I pace back and forth in front of the bed that holds Tafia... or, what remains of Tafia.

I don't hear her beast's voice anymore. The cloud of grief surrounding Tafia is gone. She is still as death, even as her chest rises and falls and her heart beats. There is nothing else. No life, no movement beyond the very basic necessity.

I have made a terrible mistake. A week after I sliced apart her mate bond Tafia fell asleep and now, two weeks later, she still hasn't woken. Her cat is missing. She's left her vigil at the wall and disappeared.

While I was in the desert a female from the Fourth House, one of the higher-rank Tasuri, was attacked. The Recondites investigating the slaying are looking for a shifter. Her face... the rumors say it was shredded apart, as if by tooth and claw. A cat, to be more specific. She may still die of her horrific injuries.

I wept when I heard. Yes, maybe she deserved a punishment, but this is my fault. I set the cat free from Tafia. I hurt that female as if with my own hands. I have no idea what happened between Tafia and her Fated and that female, but it's not my place to judge them, to disfigure someone.

"Lady Mara? The Recondites are here to escort you home," the quiet preistess of the mother gives me a wan smile. I don't reply. I can see the hint of fear in her eyes. No one understands what demon I fought three weeks ago, but they know that I was there, that something happened between Tafia and I. I am becoming more and more of a freak everyday.

I don't look the Recondites in the eyes. For once I am grateful for the viel that hides my face and eyes. The two males are unrecognizable to me. I haven't seen any of the familiar faces of the Shadow Warriors since our return from the desert... since their Captain, Lier, died.

My viel is gone by the time I get back to the temple. It looks like mice have eaten through it. Filled with holes.

I race into the temple, tearing at my ruined viel. It snags on my hair and I scream a little as I yank it off. How could my father do this to me? What did he think this would accomplish? A maimed female, Tafia is unconscious, her cat missing, a dead Recondite in the desert. Why?

"Why?" I scream it out as soon as I enter the temple. My anguished question hovers in the air. "Why do this? I'm a murderess! You... I did this! And... and... the male, the Captain of the Recondites, Lier, why did you- I don't understand! I am supposed to... supposed to help shifters!" Ugly sobs are ripped from my throat, the crying overtaking my ability to speak.

"Why?" I whisper.

Daughter... My daughter

I lie down next to the pool, my body heaving with the force of my own misery. "It's not fair... what did I do? What did they do to deserve this?"

They are part of the Sacrifice

"What kind of sacrifice? Who is a sacrifice?" I'm completely bewildered by my father's simple answer that carries so much wieght.

War

"So it's true? What Priestess Deanna said? Are you in a war? Why?" I ask through numb lips. I stroke the stone slab I am lying on. My tears are pink, glistening in the light. My hands are stained pink from the copious amount of velvety tears I keep wiping away.

For your Fate

I sit up. The elderly nomad in the desert... her story. A lesson, she said, from the Mother goddess. Fate... I will choose my Fate... my strands... it's my choice, not my father's. I won't have a war fought over my fate!

"You have no right to choose that for me," I snap.

I hear the derision from him without him saying a word. A fiery anger swells up in me. "I am not your puppet, father! I have choices and... and I can decide-"

I am your father

Before I can think it through, before my mind has caught up with my body, my fingers move into the sacred pool and I flick water right into my father's statue's face. Silence descends over the chambers. Even the stone seems to inhale, to hold its breath in shock at the disrespect. A heartbeat later, my body slips off of the stone I am sitting on and I fall into the pool, completely drenching myself as I fall under the water.

Tafia holds hands with a strong-looking female, a warrior. The other female kisses her cheek, squeezes her hand.

"I have to go now, Taff. My family is expecting me home."

Tafia's pretty face frowns. "Because they want you to dine with that male," she spits derisively.

The other female rolls her eyes. "Yes, Taff. We've talked about this."

"I'm your Fated, Sera, not him," Tafia grinds out. Her ears flicker, pointed and slightly fuzzy.

"I know, and I love you, but my family-"

"Just tell them!" Tafia explodes angrily. A yowl of an angry cat mixes with her words.

"Enough, Tafia! What do you think they'll do if they discover that my Fated is a female?" Tears spring into Sera's reddened eyes. "They'll kill you. You know how they are."

"It's worth the risk," Tafia whispers. "We are worth the risk."

"No, it's not. I would rather you live, Taff. That's not a choice, not for me. I need you to live."

"I won't be here, anymore, Sera. I won't watch you bond to another shifter. You need to choose."

"Then... you know what my choice is, Taff. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I inhale the water, choking and gasping because I can't stop crying. Tafia's Fated... she loved her. They loved each other. I destroyed that bond? Why? Everything is just that much worse, now. The weight of what I did is too heavy to bear.

"You can't just shove me around!" I sob to my father.

I am dunked under again, as if my body can't obey my commands anymore. I swallow some more of the water, choking and spitting in rage and sorrow, but unable to speak as I catch my breath. It takes my grief. My father's pool takes the grief from me, but I deserve to feel horrible...

My head pops out of the water as if it's repelling me back to the surface.

We are Death

My father's voice thunders through the room. The entire room shifts, quakes on its foundation. Stone dust falls to the ground, cracks forming right before my eyes. The howls of souls makes me grasp my chest in agony. Then it ends and just my father's voice fills the void.

All things end but death

We alone do not wither

We are Death

And... Daughter...

You are PUNISHED

Silence. There is nothing for a long moment until Harku breaks the muted fog by chattering furiously. A rag in one hand, he scampers up the statue of my father and furiously rubs at the water I splashed on it. His tone is clearing scolding me.

Weeping, I climb out of the pool, ignoring Harku when he screeches in indignation at the puddles I am leaving behind.

In shock, I stumble out of the temple and into one of the private gardens.

It is raining. The wastes of winter have ended and the floods have begun. The scent of the desert is washing away with the rain, the city is cleansing itself of the stench of shifters and being replaced with the smell of earth and water. Our river will rise and flood the fields just outside the city walls. The rich, dark mud will bring life back to us.

It's a cycle. Not final. Not like death. The crops will be planted in the soil and fed from the river. They will grow until the harvest. Then the city eats and prepares for winter again.

Am I... am I part of that cycle? Or, am I just the end, as father says, all things end, but death.

Sniffling, I walk back to my rooms.

Alnue is standing in the middle of my bed, hands on his hips, wings fully extended. Imperiously, he points at a clean, dry set of robes laid out on the bed. I change, still crying. The fight with my father has drained energy from me. I feel defeated and foolish.

And sick. A sacrifice. Tafia and that female, Sera, they are Fated. Tafia's cat attacked her own Fated. I just know it.

Alnue takes my hand, chattering. He tugs me out of my rooms, my feet stumbling over and over as he walks to a section of the temple complex I have barely ever entered.

We have a library. Despite how heartsore I am, I blink in astonishment and look around, gaping. How did I not know we have this? Scrolls, tablets, everything neatly organized and tucked away. The room holds the feeling of emptiness, but it's not dusty. I walk further into the room, to a table at the back that is worn in the center. A chair behind it is covered in a dark red cushion.

My breath catches. Patriarch Rimon had several cushions just like this one.

I brush my fingertips on the tabletop. He must have spent a good deal of time in here, at this very table. Nateos, how I wish he were still here with me.

A loud slam grabs my attention. Alnue is stacking scrolls up on the table's surface. With a haughty scowl, he points his finger. "Maarraa."

I wrinkle my nose. "You want me to read this?"

He hisses a word, just one, "Nateos." Coming from his mouth it sounds like the worshipful curse it is.

Is this my punishment? I settle in Patriarch Rimon's chair. I have to study?

---

I stand, pushing up from the sandy ground with just one arm, my other is twisted under me. Blinking, I look around. I'm in the ruins of a city. Something... there is something familiar about it all. It's the wrong color, red-brown bricks tumbled all over the place, half-buried in sand in many places. Shouldn't it be darker?

Maybe I've been here before, at night. That would explain it. I feel an odd tingling in the soles of my feet. I look down, seeing the ripped pant legs and bare feet. My hands, they are gloveless. Do I usually wear gloves? I turn them over, looking at the calloused palms, from weapons, I know that, and the backs of hands... covered in tattoos. Interesting, I inked my scales on my skin, with symbols in the center of the design... snake heads. Pit vipers.

I take a step and feel my legs wobble, as if they're unused to movement. Not good. I have to be fast, the fastest, the strongest, the best. Too bad I have no idea why I need to be those things.

"Fuck me," I rumble, feeling my chest expand with my shifting demon. He's scratching at his wings as if he's never seen the damn things before.

I take another step, shaky as a newborn. I stop to reassess. Maybe I was knocked on the head? I rub my hair. It's longer on top, covered in sand, of course, tied tightly in the back with shaved sides. I can't feel any lumps or swelling.

I pat my chest, finding my leathers, weapons that I can't remember but are as familiar as my snake-head hands. A necklace, aw, isn't that fucking pretty of me? I bring it up off my chest and take a look. A sword, piercing the eye socket of a skull wearing a crown of lightening. Not so pretty, then.

I drop the amulet. It's starting to heat up, the heat of the desert is dangerous during the day. I stumble again, toward one of the ancient buildings. Inside, out of the sun, I keep searching my pockets. Weapons, a bit of food, dried snake, yum. I pop a piece in my mouth and start to chew. Needs salt.

I search and find the bladder filled with water. Looks like I'll need to refill as soon as I orient myself.

A small leather purse. I have quite a bit of coin in here. No other jewelry but the necklace. I take off my jacket, turning out the interior pockets, only to find a bit more food and weapons. A very nice set of brass knuckles. Some twine.

I strip off my pants, my shirt. Under everything I have a worn leather belt with two holsters for daggers. Two intricately carved copper scabbards are tightly tucked into the belt. I carefully remove the blades. They are identical, with black ebony hilts wrapped tightly in light grey cloth and tucked inside the scabbards. Ceremonial, I determine, looking at the sharp, polished blades. Not hard enough to be used everyday. The designs on the hilts show more pit vipers.

I carefully place the daggers down to examine the scabbards more closely. A shrouded female figure holding a skull much like the one on my amulet is carved onto one side. I trace her form. She must be a goddess; her robes wrap her body, clinging to her feminine curves. She is too perfect to be real. The other scabbard show an army advancing onto city walls. Not as beautiful as the female.

Encasing the scabbards at the opening are thick braided ropes of solid gold with a dark pink gemstone in each. I touch one of them, surprised when it pops off in my hand. The other comes off, too, with a little more effort. I turn them over, examining the exquisite craftsmanship. They look like armbands, but are far too small to wrap around my own biceps. I put them back on the scabbards and sheath the daggers. Clearly these are worth a fortune.

I look at my bare chest, my thighs, my arms. I have more tattoos, black and red, swirling ink covering quite a bit of my body. An open maw of a demon on my chest, fangs dripping. On either bicep unfurl scales turning to fur with slitted eyes on each inner elbow. Other demons cover my thighs, parts of my torso.

They are all dying, eyes glowing. Some are of fire, of water, of earth, of flesh. Each has a dagger plunged into some vital part of it, head, mouth, eye, heart, all of them defeated in battle.

The tattoos line my skin of scars, hiding the lines and ridges of my own battles. Battles that I can't remember.

The demons... them I know, I have perfect memory of each. The Gano lizard is my favorite. I flex my left shoulder. He took a chunk out of it, but he made a fabulous pair of boots. Waterproof, hard scales... I look down at my bare feet... and missing. Fuck. The Gano's tattooed image over my left bicep is dying of a sword through his thick maw, right down his throat into his gullet. The only way to kill the bastard.

I pull my clothes back on. That's all I can see, anyway. I imagine that I have more that I can't see without a mirror. Now that I have inspected myself and my belongings I need to work on how to get out of here.

I re-emerge into the daylight and feel the hair on the back of my neck rising. I'm being watched.

Spinning on one foot, I thank the gods that my legs are finally cooperating. The knife comes flying at me from the shadows of another building, but I can see the flash of metal, the glint of green eyes.

Snarling, I go on the offensive. No sense in retreating and trapping myself in one of these abandoned buildings.

"Who the fuck are you?" I snarl at the male I have in my claws a heartbeat later.

He blinks those odd cat-eyes at me. "I am Belen. Who the fuck are you?" No fear shines in his eyes. I can respect that.

I drop him to the ground and straighten back up. "I don't know."

"You... don't know?" he looks at me oddly. His eyes travel to my hands, the snakedemons hissing on my flesh, the open collar of my shirt with gods-know-what tattooed under my chin, the necklace with the skull. His eyes fix on that amulet. Slowly he reaches up and takes it, flipping it over and over, rubbing at the dulled surface.

"What is your name?" he murmurs quietly.

He's an odd male. "I told you, I don't know. I will remember."

"All right. Well, you may as well return with me. I am visiting my nan. We... there is some turmoil in our ranks right now," his green eyes flash with sorrow

"Your ranks?"

"The Recondites," he says proudly, but his mouth still betrays his uneasiness, twitching at the corners.

"Who are they?"

He blinks at me in offended astonishment. "The Shadow Warriors? Defenders of the gods? Recondites? The best of the warriors in all of Tmari?"

"I am the best," I say instantly, the words tripping off my tongue automatically as my bastard of a demon snickers at me.

"Sure you are," Belen says, "you don't even remember your name."

"I am still the best."

"Right, well, c'mon, 'the best,' you'll appreciate my nan," he smirks.

I follow him. I have nothing to lose. At least, I don't think I do.