Redmun's body told him he'd slept fine. His mind was not so generous. Thoughts dragged through his head like pulling a horse through the Marsh, yet the images and sensations of the dream kept a disgusting freshness.

Redmun sat up, discarding the itchy covers, and worked his mouth. The Evil had shown him that. How was not the problem. His jaw worked, trying to resist asking. “Why?”

You have your Rose, Redmun, the Evil said. That voice, heard in the dark, made him shiver. My sibling rages across your city spreading his filth while you drink and threaten. I thought you would want to know.

“I'm going to kill you,” Redmun said. That night under the tree, he'd tried to kill himself. The thought brought shame and sadness both. Shame that he had resorted to such drastic, emotional measures, and sadness that it hadn't worked – that it wouldn't work. He'd tried not to think about it, but the fact that his injuries meant nothing weighed on him greatly. What did his fear mean, then? What was the point of defense? Why should he not just let his body be mauled and mutilated, if it could all just come back in an instant? Now it was worse. Now he couldn't even die. Did he need to drink at all? Did he need water? Everything that made him human was called into question, because now none of it mattered. The Evil would make him live. “I'm going to kill you,” he said again, feeling the incredible strength of his fury. He nourished it, because it was better than despair.

The Evil said nothing.

“There you are.” Redmun shut his door, adjusting his fresh clothing. Rose gave him a warm smile over her cup. “Sleep well?” She sat across from the housekeeper, legs crossed, back straight, as if civilized. He passed her by without answering.

With the lanterns yet to be lit, the hall was cast in shadows, the only light streaking through slats in the ceiling. Dust danced along the sunbeams, as though the light let them float just a little bit longer through the air.

Jessa was there too, relaxing in a chair on the other side of the hall., going over a collection or reports and requests for help she'd ripped from the message wall.

“When did she get here?” he asked, sitting across from her and taking up a paper of his own. The south wall had seen an influx of centaur, roaming in from the rocky regions at the base of the Seven Mountains.

“Before I woke up. Long before you woke up,” she said, her brown eyes flashing up at him momentarily. “It's nearly noon.”

“Yeah.” He resisted the goose-bump shiver that threatened. He kept his voice low, not sure that he wanted Rose to hear. “The Evil. It showed me Gelstadt. Through his eyes. He's in Habrack, killing. It's bad.”

Jessa pressed her lips thin. “And the Possessors?”

He shook his head. “Like ants. We need to get moving. We need to stop him.”

“You need to stop him, Redmun,” Jessa said, glaring.

Redmun waved her off. “We've had this conversation before.”

“And you didn't listen, so we're having it again.”

“Yes, I did listen, Jessa. I listened, and then Lutmouth happened. You got hurt. Cielaine…” Redmun shook his head. That whole mess couldn't be put into words. “And I got pulled in. I mean, yes I got away, and that's good, but… I didn't beat him. Even half-mad with power I couldn't beat him. How far gone will I have to be? Will I even want to fight once I'm there?” Even as he spoke them he knew these were a coward's words. They sounded right, rational, and yet he felt them to be true. With all that had happened, his feelings of victory over the Light had been slipping away. Yes, he'd managed to wrench himself out of that madness, but for what? His mistake had done its work, and people were already dead because of it.

“Yours is the lesser of two Evils. You have to see that!” Jessa glanced at Rose and the housekeeper, regretting her volume. “Yes, your Evil's conniving, but it's like Marwood said. At least plotting gives you room to breathe. Better that than constantly going toe-to-toe with the other Evils all the time. At least it hasn't started besieging a city.”

“Yet,” Redmun muttered. Jessa opened her mouth to say more, but he stood. He was done talking about this. “Let's just get moving. Whatever we're going to do, we can't wait any longer.” He walked to the door, grabbing his pack and spear, leaned against the entrance. “Come on,” he said to both women, still sitting.

Rose stood, and glanced back at Jessa. “You coming? You get to walk in front. Give me a nice view,” Rose said with a smile and a flick of her eyebrows.

Rose led them to the horse-hiring station at the western edge of town, and started demanding three horses for free, despite the fact that there were only two in the stable. Jessa tried to push in, smiling at the man, running her fingers through her hair. Rose shoved her aside, calling her a failure of a whore. Redmun thought he might need to step in and stop Rose's absurd form of haggling, but something coming down the road caught his eye.

At first, Redmun wasn't sure what he was looking at. Near the edge of the town, the streets were mostly empty, save for the residents scurrying between homes or returning from elsewhere. He saw only a crowd, its size obfuscated by its front ranks – approaching the town on foot. He paid it little mind, more worried about Rose's increasingly violent voice.

“Here!” she said, grabbing Redmun's purse from his belt and tossing it at the man's head. “Three horses! Pip pip!”

“But we've only the two!” the man pleaded, looking almost like he wanted to cry.

Redmun moved between them, cutting of her venom-spitting lecture mid-sentence. “Rose, leave the man alone. You know why there are so few horses here. Don't be childish.”

“Hah!” Her a laugh sudden and shocking sound, it still had that strange beauty in it that made it only uglier. “ 'Don't be childish' he says, but quick enough to follow in his father's footsteps wasn't he? And not afraid to run to mommy when there's one too many scrapes ahead!” She punctuated her yelling by trying to shove his shoulder. More childish bullying. She pointed at Jessa. “Surprised you haven't had this one give you suck, you infant.”

Long held back fury rose in Redmun's throat. The dream, the Evil, Rose – it was too much. He found his feet moving forward, pressing into Rose's space. “I'm not a child anymore, mother,” he spoke, low and quiet.

“Redmun.” Jessa's voice, worried.

“If I have to drag you to Habrack at the end of a rope tied around your wrinkled old ankles, I will. Enough of your complaining! Take the two Gods-damned horses and shut the hell up or I'll rip your arm off and beat you to death with it!”

“Redmun!”

“Hello again.” Redmun blinked at the violence in Rose's face, and turned from her. Cielaine held her hands before her, smiling. “It is good to see you again.” Only this time, she was genuinely happy, her smile shining through her uneven jaw. “How are you?”

The entire crowd was there, as well as the few onlookers pausing in the street. Immediately behind her were her two guards, and then the Liabirs.

“Cielaine?” Redmun asked. How had they caught up so quickly? But then he took another count of the people around her. At least half as few. Iona sported a haunted look, and several scrapes. Marwood's arm was in a sling. “You walked past the tree? At night?”

“I came to see you, Redmun,” she said. Her hand came up, searching for his cheek. Redmun pushed it away.

“Goodness Redmun!” Rose said, walking up to Cielaine and her cohorts. Redmun was too wrapped up in his thoughts, and didn't even think to stop Rose from approaching. While Cielaine seemed to be able to find and 'look' at Redmun's eyes, with Rose she faced the voice only vaguely. “Another one of your Mommy replacements, aye? This is the one you turned into a blind-mad prophet! My, you've certainly moved up in the world!”

“And who are you, pray tell?” Cielaine asked. The smile faded back into her old, put-on smile of saintly acceptance.

Rose looked the small Saint up and down. “Tell the pretty whore and her drooling followers to piss off, Redmun. They do so beg to hear you say it.”

In answer Redmun shoved Rose into the stables. “Take the horses. We're leaving.”

His vision blurred, and he found himself on the ground, teeth loosened.

“Don't touch me, boy,” Rose was saying, standing over him. The pain blossomed slow, but strong. Despite the fury on her face, Redmun looked to Cielaine instead. Was it happening again? “Try that again, and I'll-” The blunt end of Jessa's axe cracked against Rose's skull.

“You,” she said, meaning the stableman. “Get those horses saddled and help me rope her up.” She leaned down, and pulled Redmun up. He got his feet under him, but the swaying of his head threatened to send them elsewhere.

“Fleeing again.” Not a question from the Saint, a statement. “Were you worried I would have her executed as well? Of course not. She is your mother, is she not? Perhaps I was wrong about you, Redmun. It seems you've taken penitence in your time, even if it has sent you down the wrong path.”

Redmun stood and stared at the saint as she spoke. He could feel the urge to strangle her, right there and then, flashing its way up and down his arms, his hands tensing in anticipation. The Liabirs were there, though. He couldn't find the strength to look at them. What must they think of him? Unable to defend a fellow Possessor, abandoning them to this… cult… that he'd spawned. Running away. An abomination, or the Church's messiah, neither worse than the other, at least in his reckoning. Though the fury was in him once more it battled with the shame of everything, attacking his nerves anew.

Kill her if it is what you wish, Redmun, the Evil whispered. Redmun cringed from the words. It always spoke when he least wanted to hear its whispered lies. Just know that it will take you further down the path of failure.

Redmun spoke through a snarl. “I'm not going to kill her.” He wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

“It speaks to you?” Cielaine whispered, and fell to her knees. “It whispers for my absolution.” She brought her clasped hands to her forehead and began to mutter. Others fell to their knees, too, praying. The Liabirs did not, and Redmun blessed them for it.

Lloyd caught his eye. There was a moment between them, that same fear there, but awe as well. A different awe that sent a chill up his spine.

“Come on,” Jessa shoved reins into his hands, trying to turn him away. Redmun resisted. He couldn't leave this alone. Not anymore.

Redmun placed his boot on Cielaine's shoulder and pushed her to the ground. At the same time he drew his spear, and put it to her neck. All around him gasped, Jessa calling his name, demanding that he stopped. He ignored it all. He focused only on Cielaine, her looking back up at him through the blindfold. “Your God doesn't care about you, little Saint,” he told her, wishing her all the pain she'd inflicted on him, on Dren, a thousand fold. He wanted to rip her apart, piece by piece, leaving her a faithless, ruined mess. Only he wasn't eloquent enough, wasn't calm enough. He let the words come as they wished. “It doesn't care about you in the slightest.” He glanced up. “Any of you. You're just useful idiots, following along because you've nothing better to do.” And back down to Cielaine, her neck bleeding from where the spear-tip was digging in. “But you. You're nothing. I'm going to kill it. I'm going to take everything it wants, everything it is and tear it down.” That last he sent into his mind, letting it echo in his skull.

Frail Redmun-

Redmun spun, and screamed into the open air. “Say one more word, Evil, and I swear I'll end it here! I don't care what it takes – I'll take us both down to whatever hell the Gods have laid down beneath this one! “ The entire town seemed to be watching him. He didn't care. All that anger, all the fury in him needed an outlet, and he was an inch away from throttling Cielaine to death. Better he be thought mad than finally, truly, become a murderer.

I'm sorry.

Just like that, it was gone. All the fury. All the frustration. All his hurt. Everything.

“What?”

I'm truly sorry that you hurt so much, Redmun, the Evil said, almost a whisper. As if afraid the others might overhear. Cielaine said something behind him, but Redmun did not hear. When I made this bond with you I did not understand anything. I did not know I hurt your kind. I did not know how much suffering would come of it. I truly did not mean any of it.

It was lying. It always lied. It had done things, horrible things, knowingly. Yet why did it always sound so genuine?

“Gods damn you.”

Let us be away. We should talk, elsewhere.

The ground before his eyes seemed to blur, his fingers around the spear limp, almost slipping. He felt empty.

Redmun shook his head. “I don't want to talk to you.”

He got atop his horse, deaf to the Saint's cries and wailing, blind to the Liabirs. He just wanted to keep moving. Rose across his saddle, Jessa by his side, he kicked the beast into motion down the road. North.