As she flew, she reached out to the skal’mo that she could feel pulsing in lurking darkness. Its movement was by no means instantaneous as it flew from shadow to shadow above her, but it served as a guide. She could feel its presence spreading out throughout the land, searching for the people that she so desperately needed to find. Revan, she thought furiously, struggling not to be torn apart as she shot through the earth. Mother, father, where are you?

She was nothing more than shreds of thoughts, bound together by force of will and Atal’s strength. Without any flesh restricting her, she was free to fly through the stone and dirt. Yet she could not escape the ravages of the earth as she traveled, the abrasive shards stripping and tearing gashes into her being. Faster and faster she pushed herself, knowing well that every moment delayed could be crucial. More and more pieces of her were flayed off, like hide being skinned from some dead animal, flying away into the wind. They were parts of her being—memories of the past, shards and pieces of a young girl running under the moonlight; they did not matter to her now. Faster, faster, she strove as she struggled not to fly apart and disperse into dust. Hurry, HURRY.

As the skal’mo spread throughout the earth around her, she could feel the metallic taste of blood soaking these soils nearby. North, the shadows told her, and she had no time to question them further. Faster and faster she pushed herself, knowing that nothing else mattered. She had already doomed herself to die in some burning hell; so long as her loved ones were safe, it would have been worth it. Her greatest fear was that she would rise out of the ground to see nothing but plains filled with corpses, like that long-held dream of hers. It would all have been for naught, that sinister voice of hers whispered bitterly. Your humanity, sacrificed for nothing.

No, she reminded herself even as more memories were torn away from her. Her essence lessened with every passing moment, her mind and soul growing ever smaller. No, I mustn't stop now. Not now, faster—even faster. The soil north was still soaked with blood, still trembling from the stomping of boots and clamors of fighting.

Stop! Faith’s voice was sudden and unbidden in her mind, a rasping series of whispers in that single word. You’ll kill yourself at this pace! There was concern in that tone—a genuine concern that startled her and almost gave her pause in surprise. Yet it was not enough to halt this endeavor; brushing the words aside, she pressed onwards through the stone. Before that eyeless gaze, she saw her past being stripped away, as if burned into a fire.

—A young girl was running through the gardens, a man’s deep voice ringing out behind her even as she laughed. She twirled through the bushes, not caring as the brambles and thorns tore and snagged at her dress. Her heart was thumping, her breath heavy as she twisted and spun, hiding in between the hedges with nervous excitement. Her eyes stared down the path, wide and expectant as she wondered if she had truly escape—

—”Gotcha!” rang out the voice from behind her even as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, carrying her out of the bushes as she kicked and struggled with tears of laughter—

The memory was torn away from her, but there were no tears as still she pressed on. A necessary price, she told herself as her childhood was taken away. They are of no use any longer, so long as the present it preserved. If this fails, those memories will be but a curse of would once was. Aye, her choice was made—was long since made. If she was to wander these lands, no longer knowing who she was, so be it as long as her family lived. The price she had already paid, any price she was still yet to pay, it would all be done to see Revan’s smile when she disappeared into dust.

The storming of footsteps was above her, the soil around her damp with coppery blood, and she rose up with a nervous conviction. So long surrounded by darkness in this fleshless form, the glaring sun upon her was like a flame being held to her skin the moment that she came out of the ground. Threads of thought and will bound her together, her image nothing more than glimmering strands of white that shimmered under the sunlight. Like spiderwebs lined with dew in the early morning, her form was a spectral beauty. A ghost, some part of her noted. Was that all that she was now, some ghost to haunt the living with a memory? No, she thought suddenly. There is more, she told herself as she felt the heartbeat of the skal’mo in the back of her mind.

Before her, she saw the chaos of a battlefield strewn with blood and corpses. A river cut straight through the land, its length clogged with armor and bodies, its clear water stained dark with the lifesblood of countless men. The Yearning, she realized dimly, the sole river that fed these parts of the Heartlands. Its banks flooded the fields of the farmers, its waters fed the peasants and noblemen alike. And now its banks had surged once more, the surging rapids flowing up past the confines of the surrounding earth.

She could make out the Florell legions as well, with their armor of gold bordered on black iron. Their number were strewn haphazardly on the banks, any semblance of order and command long since discarded. They were half sinking in the mud, borne down by the weight of the armor and equipment. Many had thrown their shields away, struggling to stride through the muck with great difficulty. Their number occupied both sides of the Yearning, what could only be the shattered remains of a bridge evident even at this distance.

Pieces of broken wood floated in the rapids, accompanied by struggling soldiers whose bobbing heads slowly ceased to surface. It became clear, then, that the bridge had collapsed even as the legion had been forced to retreat, and now half their number was unable to cross. Spears littered the ground, many having missed any marks, too many succeeding. Bodies lay in all manner of positions, unmoving with bent shafts protruding from limbs and chest alike. Of the legionaries remaining, they were without Swords or Shields to give command, all semblance of discipline long since shattered. Many were injured, some with bent spearheads buried in stomachs and limbs, sure to bleed to death from such wounds. It was a rout, without the slightest of doubt. And as yet another volley of spears rained down from the sky above, more of those panicked men fell to the ground, the dirt around them growing dark with crimson.

To the east marched another legion, of heavy red bordered on stark white. House Savos, some dim part of the her past reminded her, even as she watched that legion slowly march forth in cadence like some encroaching wall. She could see their hardened eyes between the gaps of their shields, could see their boots striking the ground in unison. She knew with certainty that Florell’s rabble, then ,had no hope of living.

Too late? Was she truly too late, in spite of all that she had paid? No, she refused to accept it, even as the back ranks readied yet another volley of spears. She felt the skal’mo lurking in the shadows of the battlefield, its heartbeat calm in spite of the carnage. It was waiting, she realized, waiting patiently. Waiting for her command.

Five and three curses, damned arbiter, halt! Faith once more spoke in her mind, the rasping urgent. Halt, before your haste dooms us all! Confusion filled her then, even as she saw more men succumb to their wounds and collapse in the mud. Doom them all?

Faith hurried to explain, that ever-calm and collected voice now almost desperate to her ears. Our god’s blessing is not without cost, just as all strength must know bounds. The power given to you, was his, and it is his to lose as well. Should you fall, should you find yourself slain as your counterpart in these lands was as well, that strength will be stolen from him as well.

The whisperings continued, ever fervent even as more men died before her. A god is not immortal, not even our god. Should you die here, his strength will have been greatly weakened, perhaps even beyond recovery. Already, he has paid the price to make you an arbiter, so soon after losing one. He cannot afford to lose you.

Faith’s words stunned her, making her pause even as she saw the legions stop, the Swords calling out for the back ranks to ready their spears. If she was to die, she might drag this dark god down to mortality as well? Yet her heart grew callous at the thought, her determination only ever firmer as she scoffed at Faith. And why should I give a damn about your god?

My goals have not changed, despite your incessant ramblings. I died for my own ends, not to serve your god. It matters not to me if he has his corpse strewn across the lands, so long as my family is saved first. It matters not to me if he is slain so long as the demons are first. She tensed with concentration, feeling the skal’mo surge at her command. The shadows of the corpses and the soldiers squirmed and flickered, smoking ever softly under the sunlight.

As if in one final, desperate attempt to sway her, Faith spoke out once more. Should our god die, we shall as well! Immortality! Eternity! Snuffed out for a imprudent, rash decision! Everlasting life, denied for the sake of an old man and a brash lover, is that not regretful? Think of what you are losing!

At this, she smirked dimly. I know exactly what I am losing. It pales in comparison to what I have already lost. It trembles in comparison to what I will lose. And you, and your god, can rot in twelve heathen hells if that is what it will be. And if I must join you, then I do so gladly.

With a sudden crackling rush of energy, the shadows throughout the battlefield suddenly surged upwards into the air. Billowing black, writhing darkness, they melded together into a single, terrifyingly human form. Like some massive specter, like some looming shade, it towered over the earth with utter silence.

The eyes of Florell and Savos alike widened in shock and terror, the Spears suddenly shouting, “Fire!” in a blind panic. The volley of spears that flew through the air met nothing but formless shadow before them, vanishing into that bottomless surface. She saw their faces grow white with fear at the nameless, formless thing that stood before them, like billowing smoke given flesh. Shields fell to the dirt, arms becoming slack. Knees grew weak, their strength of unity disappearing like water under a hot sun. In that brief moment before blind panic set in, she reveled in the strength she wielded, that stunned an army.

And as that faceless head gazed down at the Savos legion, she felt a prideful confidence surge through her.

Go, my servant, she commanded the skal’mo, its smoking arm drawing back in an all-too-human gesture. Smite them, that I might see this god’s power. And as its arm struck the earth, the screams of the legionaries could not be heard, the splatter of their blood could not be seen. And as that ghastly hand withdrew, their corpses did not litter the ground. The furrows that had been cleaved into the earth did not bear any remnants of those that had stood there not a heartbeat ago. Their shattered armor did not fall to the dirt. Their broken swords did not clatter to the ground. In that briefest of instants, they were gone—claimed by the skal’mo. They simply were.

And now they were not.