Neda screamed with panic as she realized where she was. The darkness- the choking cloak of the reeking, umbral depths had bereaved her of her sight once more... the pit- that long-forgotten, distant pit out in the sandy dunes. With every breath, she could feel her mouth fill with the minute specks of her oppression- the death and decay of her brother and ultimately... herself.

“Scream all you will, Neda. There are none who will listen to you- not here...” The white-haired woman’s melodious voice bounced off from every wall of the dark chamber with perfect clarity. Neda fell to her knees and saw a molded, dry piece of bread on the dirt before her- reminding her of the innumerable meals she had consumed in the dark, dreary depths- a place where living meant merely existing.

“Get me out of here! Get me out of here right now!” She screamed with all her might, only for the white-haired girl to laugh back at her from the darkness.

“This would have been your life without him... this is the life for all those you’ve left behind.” Neda grabbed the piece of bread and threw it with all the strength she could muster- hoping in vain that she would strike the bitch somewhere out in the darkness.

“This pit exists beyond the confines of the wall- inside so many of our Kin. But we can be free- he has showed me a way, Neda... I wish I could show you, too, but your mind would shatter at the sight of his Window.” The desert wildling gripped her face and screamed into her palms. Through her outrage, she heard something in the darkness alongside her... the clattering of chains grew louder as something shook the blindingly dark chamber with every slow step of its monstrous frame. She peered between her fingers to see an impossibility- a beast unlike anything she had ever heard of.

His body glowed a faint green- the same green she could see if she looked into Asrael’s eyes. It was tall- six times her height, easily. It had the legs of a goat, but the rest of it was undoubtedly a man- a green-skinned, dead, rotting man of dried flesh. In between his steps, she could see into the numerous holes in his chest, where organs squirmed around with a life of their own. As he came close enough to bore his green, glowing eyes down at her, she let loose another scream. The entire left side of its face was bared of flesh and skin- showing nothing but a grinning skeletal jaw. He leaned down to look at her and allowed her to see the two magnificent horns peering out through the sickly, green fur of his head and face. The white-haired girl’s voice continued from the walls:

“Yes- he is beautiful, is he not? He showed me things- such wonderful... terrible things. He showed me the world beyond the rifts and together; we stared into the maddening depths at the Void- the burnt side of the coin of existence-…” Neda was left staring into his unmoving, unblinking eyes as the girl went on spouting her madness:

“A single glance revealed such secrets- forbidden, maddening things that cannot ever be worded... He showed me power beyond human capabilities- he told me of his plan. A plan in which you will play a vital role, Neda...” In between the desert-dweller's blinks, the massive monstrosity disappeared and in its place; stood Lita in all her radiant glory- dispelling the oppressive darkness by merely existing. Neda was left thankful of her presence- hoping above all that the girl would not disappear and leave her back on her lonesome, before remembering... she was the one who put her there... she was whom she had come to kill for just this reason. Lita extended her hands reverently to either side of her body and spoke:

“His plan is Asrael’s plan and he must succeed... and even if it pains me- I must let you live for now... he will give me the strength to allow it...” Neda scuttled back to her feet and held the daggers out towards the girl. She could scarcely believe that a moment previous, she had felt grateful to the bitch raping her mind and forcing her to live through this Hell once more.

“But make no mistake, Neda... soon, I will trap you in here- forever. I will have Asrael and the hold you have on him will be broken when I tear you from your flesh and put you in this hell you’ve construed for yourself. Your body will be left a demented wretch- an unlovable, mindless husk left to crawl around in the darkness for an eternity while your body flesh rots away...” Her deep-blue eyes turned down to meet Neda’s trembling form and with a final blink... she was gone.

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Asrael sat at the tavern’s tired counter- pretending to sip at a glass of brown spirits with his back turned towards a pair of familiar guardsmen behind his shoulder. In the darkness, he could scarcely deny that the tavern had its charm- especially with the crackling of the fireplace to illuminate the two Inquisitors as they greedily ate their morbid meals. Atop their plates lay their fallen brethren and several of the city’s homeless in the form of a platter of steaks, sausages and meatballs- a fine meal made to make any mortal man’s mouth water. The air smelled faintly of varnish and depravity as Kester stepped out from the kitchen with what had become a near-permanent set of bagged eyes and a profound frown. Seeing the necromancer, he refused to comment on his new suit and instead mumbled a silent:

“Those guys said Berral promised ‘em free food for having bothered you... you know I’ve got mouths to feed, right?” Asrael raised a questioning eyebrow to signal his lack of understanding and shrugged.

“You’ve plenty of food in the back. If you cook it well enough, human meat should be acceptably safe for consumption... besides. With the amount of coin I am paying you from Kerras’ hoarded fortune, you should be able to offer your family something better than whatever the slop your father taught you to cook.” It was strange to the Necromancer how the tavernkeeper functioned. In so many ways, he had succeeded in breaking him in, but whenever his skills as a tavernkeeper came into question, he would still offer up a smidgen of pride. Kester stepped up next to the counter and muttered a few choice profanities before returning to scrub the countertop with his cloth.

Before Asrael could continue criticizing his favored tavernkeeper, the door slammed open to reveal a sweating, heaving mess of a woman in a white dress. Neda’s red eyes were wide with panic- her eyelids were puffy and her grimace tremored as she scanned the bar and finally lay her eyes on Asrael. The necromancer was as frightened at the sight of her as the two startled Inquisitors eyeing her with disbelief. She covered the length of the tavern with two skips and launched herself forward to wrap her arms around Asrael’s chest and neck, where she devolved to screams and sniffles. Kester and Asrael’s eyes met midway and a silent conversation ensued in which the consensus was that Kester would continue tending to his visitors as Asrael took the wildling back into the kitchen.

Ellie sat in the corner of the dimly lit basement- crouched over a book on the cold, damp floor. Hidden below cobwebs and beyond boxes, she felt strangely at ease for the first time in weeks... or at least, as eased as she could feel after having suffered through the horrors of Gerathar’s mansion. The leatherbound journal in her hand had empowered her- given her hope that something existed beyond the scars of her mind. Her comfort shattered as a series of struggles sounded from up the stairs. A moment later, the hatch slammed open and down came Asrael’s displeased form- fighting to free himself from the wildling whose legs and arms remained tightly locked around him as she continued to scream bloody murder into his shoulder.

“Get the hatch!” Asrael ordered the girl hiding beneath the stairs and, as always, she was quick to comply. When he had finally reached the bench by the desk, he forced the girl down unto the bench and demanded: “Unhand me, you fiendish seductress! I have already told you- I will not fall victim to your feminine powers!” Had he still relied on breathing, he might’ve fealt a measure of panic as she grabbed hold of his dark, greasy hair and shoved his face down in between her breaths to scream:

“T-that b-b-bitch! S-s-she's messed up! It was horrible- she fucked with my head! S-she p-put me back in-…" She spoke between her tears. Asrael grabbed hold of her face and pried himself out of her cleavage to shout; “What!? You met the girl!? You actually did something useful!?”

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Ellie knew pain. She knew violation and she knew the power of a friendly touch. Neda soon calmed down enough to speak after having shed a jug’s worth of tears into Ellie’s shoulder and after having had her hair stroked by her female friend’s gentle hand for well over half an hour. Asrael had remained at a respectable distance, listening as she made her disturbing report. He was left in the sniffling silence pondering what the message meant- fore what else could it be but just that? A message for him...

“More psychomancer insanity, undoubtedly...” He muttered. Ellie continued stroking Neda’s hair, but looked up at her pale Master’s thoughtful frown to question:

“W-… what is a psychomancer?” The question seemed to catch him unaware, but still; he offered her an answer:

“There are many theories. My favorite amongst them is that they, like Gerathar, have electricity-affined magics that they use to influence the minds of another. In the old world- my world, the greatest feat of psychomancy was correctly guessing the cards of another, but that may also have been a fluke... it would not be statistically impossible- just very unlikely...” Asrael continued pacing about as he explained:

“Psychomancers cannot express their magic- as is common for all of them. Not in the same manner we may. We can all divert our magic from our cores and manipulate them at our will- more or less...”

Ellie nodded, but naturally questioned: “Core?” He nodded. “The center of your being- your magical heart, if you will.” She knew, as Neda did, what Asrael spoke of. Inside their bodies- just above the navel, both had felt the source of their power- from where they would draw it when needed, but neither had ever thought to name it.

Asrael continued: “The girl... she knows something about Azazeel and ever since she raped my mind, the sound of those blasted chains have been absent. I should thank her for it, but...” He came to a halt to glare at Neda and say: “She forced herself into me. She is unlike anything I have ever encountered- even my mind was powerless to resist her. We must either avoid her or kill her, but as we know precious little of her capabilities, she is a danger to us all-… no, for now, we must avoid.”

Neda sniffled and wiped her cheeks with an understanding nod. “I d-don't like her... she said she was gonna kill me-” He waved her off and answered: “Yes, yes, spare me your self-absorbed musings. For now: we’ve work to do and as soon as Kester drags his fingers out of his rectum, we may continue... Can you handle the inscriptions without me, girl? I must see Barhtolomew. His initiative might have given us an opportunity I cannot let slip- I must know more.”

Ellie nodded and raised her hand to her left breast in a misguided salute. “I can, Master.” Neda’s chest stung for several reasons. For one, she had once been ‘girl’... now; it was Ellie? It had only taken a couple of days for her to be misplaced- thrown down from her throne as Asrael’s main ‘girl’... but mostly, she dreaded the thought of him going there.

“Y-you can’t go. She’s after you- she'll... she’ll take you!” Asrael raised a questioning eyebrow at her and spoke;

“Did you not hear what she said? Her misguided plan relies on me and she has made it clear that she, alike you, craves me flesh. I believe myself safe from her, which is more than I can say of you, you harlot.” The sting in her chest grew warm as she heard that word again- that special word he had reserved for her. Her cheeks flushed warmly- a warmth that made her avert her gaze down unto the floor, where she saw-…

“H-hey... h-have you been... taking my underwear?” It took him a moment that the lusty harlot spoke to him and not her fellow student. Asrael glanced down at the floor, where, as expected: Neda’s panties lay on the cold stones. Ellie leaned close to Neda to whisper; “You shouldn’t be leaving it around like that. He almost sniffed it.” Neda’s lips split apart in a joyous grin as she heard it.

“R-really? He did? D-did he... did he like it?” The Necromancer had heard enough- his name had been tarnished enough for a lifetime in the span of a single day. He departed from the chamber to slam the hatch in his wake and stomp his way past the struggling tavernkeeper dragging the unconscious man through the tavern and escaped through the well-worn door- out into the street.