The lives of several hundred dead men, women, and children echo through the blood. Their fear, pain, horror, and outrage imprinted into the very energy the cultists use to fuel their magic. The energy of blood sacrifice. It doesn't take much to bind the echoes together, to take the fragments of living will and weave them into a purpose. Only a single thought.

Vengeance.

The blood rages around me, shaping itself into form around my body, a golem of blood with me as it's heart. The process takes only moments, and when completed leaves me standing just a few feet taller than the flesh golem, though not as broad. It seemed confused at first, it was likely ordered to protect the blood pool not attack it. But with the pool gone...

The goelm doesn't hesitate to strike. It leaps forward and swipes at me with both of it's bone claws. I block the first with my forearm but I'm too slow on the second, and it rakes furrows through the blood forming my chest. It comes dangerously close to my true body. I retaliate by kicking at the creature's knee, hearing a crackle as dozens of bones break.

It backs away, limping. I cautiously follow it, casting an attack spell at it's other knee. It blocks with it's forearm even as it's other hand snatches something from the ground.

It's the corpse of one of the cultists.

The golem's torso folds open, revealing a maw filled with severed heads. Each one eyeless, with mouth wide. I feel shock roll through the echoes in the blood. Recognition of their own faces and faces of their loved ones. Some of them children.

Already at my limit, I lose control of my anger as it erupts into white-hote rage and hunger. The golem around me roars in hundreds of voices, a chorus of the slain, even as I scream my own rage within it. We charge the creature as it tries to consume another corpse.

I lift my granite hammer to rest on my shoulder.

"Damn these fools..." I mutter as my spell burns the destroyed body of yet another flesh golem.

How many of these abominations are left? I've destroyed seven already. Three with my hammer and four with spells.

I'm trying to conserve my mana until I get inside the temple where the cultists are hiding. Who knows what horrors they've prepared inside? It's bad enough they keep sending flesh golems out to keep me busy.

I take the opportunity to cast several spells to aid my soldiers and what's left of the city's inhabitants. Spells for healing and recovery primarily, but also a lingering mass fear spell on the Imperial soldiers.

Now, where's...oh my...that's not good.

Looking to the ritual site just before the temple I see three golems brawling. Two flesh golems, one badly damaged and on fire, the second looking fairly fresh, and a blood golem with vampiric features. It looks like a bald man with pointed ears and an angular, almost animalistic, face twisted into a fanged snarl. It's formed from blood so dark it's nearly black, and it's hands end in black claws that seem to dissolve flesh wherever they strike.

I watch as the blood construct rips an arm from the second flesh golem, unleashing a primal roar that sounds like a thousand voices screaming in rage.

Definitely not good...

I run towards the ritual site and leap over my forces. I land in the middle of the Imperial line, squishing several enemies between my toes as I press on towards the quickly ending brawl.

Little champion...please don't make me kill you. I don't think our Lady would ever forgive me.

Consciousness fading in and out, Maevin is barely aware of the strong arms draging him away from the fighting. The pain in his gut almost unbearable. He hears a familiar voice, the elf, speaking to him as they reach the back of their lines.

"Don't worry lad. I told you I'd watch your back, and old Shem's not one to break his word. I'm sorry about letting that blighter poke you in the gut, but it was that or allow the one on the left to lodge his mace in your skull..."

The dragging stopped and Maevin heard the moaning of other wounded. He looked around and saw they were lined up on both sides of a side street, around a corner from the fighting to keep a building between the enemy mages and the wounded.

"Now then, drink this lad. It's not much but it'll keep you until the Mother of Mountains has a spare moment."

Maevin felt the cool glass of a potion bottle press against his mouth. He drank slowly, careful not to choke on the precious liquid. Blinking away the 'condition stabilized' notification, he spoke to the elf, Shem.

"Thank you...who's...Mother of Mountains..."

Shem moved around to sit near his legs, making it easier to see him. He was tall, thin, and uncomfortably pretty like most male Elves, though his androgynous features were marred by several deep scars across the left side of his face. The scars pulled Shem's smile into a half grimace as he responded.

"That'd be our Lady Avatar, 'The Mother of Mountains' is my people's name for her. The Dwarves call her the "Stone Mother," and the Mogai call her 'Eldest.' You human folk call her many things, though Imperial maps know her as 'Death's Ridge.' It's not surprising, she is of the Seishin after all, so you 'Imperial Citizens' probably shouldn't ask her about that name. Although..." Shem leans forwards, staring into Maevin's eyes for a moment, "You might want to stay with us...you and any family you have left, after we depart. Assuming you plan to leave the city after this mess is cleaned up. It's obviously not safe inside the Empire any longer.... Ah, that's enough rest for me. Look at me, sitting here chatting while the rest are still fighting."

Shem chuckles as he stands up. Hefting his spear, he turns back towards the slowly shrinking battle, waving farewell as he joggs back to the slaughter.

Maevin spends the next hour laying on the hard ground next to the other wounded, moaning in pain and trying not to stare at his blinking health bar. It's sitting at 5%, just enough to keep him alive for about two more hours without additional help.

A young boy in a miniature soldier's uniform comes by with a bucket of clean water and a ladle. He checks the condition of the wounded as they slake their thirst. Just before they boy reaches Maevin, thousands of tiny motes of green light appear and swarm the wounded men.

Maevin panics at first, but quickly relaxes as the motes of light flow into his wound. The gentle healing warmth filling him from head to toe. It feels like each mote is a tiny drop of springtime, sinking into his body and giving life. It invigorates him, and with a full health bar, he quickly feels well enough to stand and return to the fight.

Looking to the other wounded, he sees most of them are still on the ground, sitting up but not standing. He notices a few of the wounded, both men and women, near him are smirking and others, also both men and women, are blushing while staring at him. He looks around confused for a moment before the boy with the water bucket asks him a question.

Pointing at him the boy asks, "Excuse me...are you still hurt? Do you need me to get the healer?"

Maevin follows the boys gesture to his groin and immediately realizes that his 'Mini Maevin' has also been invigorated.

Promptly sitting back down, a thoroughly embarrassed Maevin responds, "No. No, thank you. I'll be fine!"

"Ok. If you say so..." The boy responds as he continues offering water to everyone.

The formerly wounded man next to Maevin speaks to him, "Don't be too embarrassed lad. It happens to all of us, something to do with the healing magic. It's best to let it keep working until the...other effects fade. That way you know it's healed everything."

Another soldier, a woman with short brown hair only a few years older than him laughs, "Oh absolutely! You've got nothing to be embarrased about down there young buck! In fact, I might just hunt you down after this battle's over!"

A few of the others laugh, and some whistle, making Maevins cheeks burn. But the worst was a man, a Dwarf with a deep voice, farther down shouting, "Hey! I saw him first!"

The laughter lasts only a moment before they stand up and check over their equipment. Their pace becomes more frantic as they hear an inhuman roar from the battlefield.

The man next to Maevin starts calling out names, grouping the wounded into new units. Maevin finished adusting his own guardsman's equipment and was about to head straight for the battle when someone grabbed his shoulder. It was the old soldier.

"Not so fast lad. Shara's group is short a body, go with her, they need the help. She'll keep an eye on you as well, keep you alive." He said, gesturing to the short-haired woman that teased him earlier, "Don't worry about the shit she says, she's mouthy but she looks after her own."

After a moment of thought, Maevin agrees.

They turn the corner just in time to see the Lady Avatar leap over her own soldiers and crush a few dozen Imperials beneath her feet, blood and gore fountaining up almost to her knees. Like a child jumping into a puddle. Maevin hears Shara shout out, "That'll show these arse-biscuits! Quickly, to the center! Lets split the corpse-buggering shits in half!"

Arse-biscuits?

Maevin hesitates only a moment, throwing himself back into the battle with wild abandon. Knowing he was likely too late to save his sister, he could only hope that he'd get the chance to put down a few cultists himself.

Rage boiling within me, I roar alongside the echoes of the dead as I tear the second golem limb from bloody, rotten limb.

A thousand images churn through my mind as I beat it into pase with it's own parts.

Lilly's frantic flight through the forest in the dead of winter as a child, nearly getting raped by slavers. Henry's family's pointless murder, leaving barely enough of their remains for a single casket. Simon, magically bound to the wall of his childhood home forced to watch his screaming mother raped, bruitilized, and torn apart. The hundreds of cruel deaths used to fuel the cultists magic. Mother's forced to watch as their children are sacrificed, and children their mother's.

It's too much. The horror and pain is too much. The incandescent rage burns through my mind, shattering every thought except the desire to repay the pain tenfold, a thousandfold. To burn and destroy until the rage fades, until Vengeance is satisfied.

I hear a whisper, something deep within me, something small, lonely, afraid, and filled with sorrow. I can't understand it. The emotions are just beyond my reach, and the hate thunders through me too strongly.

Setting fire to the pulped mass that remains of the flesh golem, I sense movement to my right. I turn just as a giant woman tackles me, driving me to the ground. I roar again as we grapple. She's more skilled than I am and within moments my face is being drivin into the stone with her atop my back.

She makes noise, sound, language, but I can't understand it, and I wouldn't care even if I could. The rage is all-consuming. I thrash and roar in an attempt to dislodge her. When it doesn't work I change the shape of the blood, transforming myself so that we lie face-to-face on the ground. She anticipated my reaction and still had my arms pinned, but I lunge at her with my fangs.

She head-buts me, causing my head to crack the stone beneath us. I continue to thrash and struggle, throwing raw, primal, rage-fuelled, fire magic all around us. She continues to speak, shouting at me. Eventually, I hear several hundred voices roar in triumph. The stone woman starts shouting at someone else, and then falls silent.

My thrashing grows more intense, more desperate as the rage burns through me without an outlet. I don't know how long she holds me pinned, but eventually she leaps from me. I surge to my feet and lunge at her only to meet a barrier. I roar and pound at it with claws, fangs, and primal flames, not recognizing the runs carved into the stone at my feet. The woman looks at me sadly for a moment, before turning away towards the temple and the screams still coming from within it.

The Imperial soldiers began to retreat not long after the Lady Avatar nearly split their lines herself. They maintained an orderly retreat until the Lady's former wounded returned to the battle, pressing their weakened center. The added pressure on their lines made the Imperials more desperate and their orderly retreat almost became a rout. Almost.

The Lady, pinning some demonic looking creature to the ground ordered her soldiers to secure the temple entrances and her mages to carve a containment circle, a powerful one, into the stone around her and the monster. It was around that time Maevin found her.

Vera.

His sister, laying dead on an altar in the temple plaza, body untouched by the fighting.

Maevin's world stops the moment he sees her. Her eyes are closed, her face peaceful. He would almost think she were asleep if she wasn't so quiet, she snores like a tiny bear when she sleeps. Snored. Dozens of memories play through his mind.

Her bright red eyes shining as she begs to ride his shoulders.

Her pitiful begging and absolute joy every time she brought home a new kitten and was allowed to keep it.

The half-dozen cats following her everywhere around town, looking for cuddles and snacks.

Her gigling, innocent excitement every time he told her he brought her a present.

Every time she cried herself to sleep after other kids teased her because of her eyes.

All the times he told her to bother someone else because he was busy.

The summer nights when it rained and she wanted to sleep with him because the thunder scared her, but he wouldn't let her because it was too hot.

That time he yelled at her when she knocked over their mother's urn and she cried. She didn't talk to him for three days because she though he hated her.

I'm sorry...I should have been a better brother...

Maevin finally notices the tears runing down his face.

He reaches to Vera, touching her neck, trying to check for a pulse beneath her cold, waxy skin.

He doesn't find one, he knew he wouldn't. She's not there, her presence is gone. A gift from their grandmother, they could always find each other, no matter how crowded the streets were.

"Lad?" a familiar voice calls to Maevin, approaching from behind.

Shem sees the body as he reaches Maevin. Stopping mid-step he says, "Oh lad...I'm so sorry...is there anything I can do? Do you need help moving her someplace?"

It takes a moment for Maevin to speak, his voice choked and rough with grief, "N-no. I'll...I'll handle it."

"Alright lad...if you need anything, you come find me you hear?"

Maevin nods in response, unable to speak again.

"Alright..."

Shem turns back, hesitating only a moment, and heads towards the temple.

I watch, clawing at the barrier of my prison, as the white woman smashes the massive temple doors with her stone hammer. The soldiers follow her inside, some singing war-chants. Seeing them enter while I remain trapped here causes the echoes in the blood to become more frantic. I throw myself at the barrier time and again.

I don't know how long I remained bound, but as the sky grows lighter something changes. An energy thrums in the air, like static, or the feeling just before a lightning strike. I roar and claw at the air, trying to find the source of the sensation.

The feeling grows ever more powerful, resonating with the tiny whisper within me. The whisper I can't understand. It grows in strenght as the sky grows brighter. I feel something from the east, the sky is brighter in that direction. I turn to face it, feeling something welling up from within me. Resonating with the growing energy.

As the first glimpse of the sun peeks over the horizon a wave of power thunders across the world. The same power surges from the core of my being, struggling to connect with the greater force. It hammers at the barrier around me and within moments the outside energy does as well, breaking across the barrier as waves upon a rocky shore.

The energy touches me as the barrier falls, burning away the hate and rage. Scattering the fear and pain. It's the first cry of every newborn babe, the first blooming flower of spring, the first echo of love in a young heart. It's a thing of new beginnings, new life, Hope. It pours into me and I embrace it fully, desperately, with all the craving of a starving man at a feast. It completes something inside of me, touching every life within my soul and connecting them together.

I share the power with the echoes, changing them with the energy. Acting purely on instinct, I transform them in their thousands, making them into creatures of renewal rather than destruction. On black feathers they scatter in every direction, leaving me alone in the circle.

As I sit there on the ground, I open my senses fully. Staring at the dawn in all it's glory. I watch the renewing power of life pouring across the earth and sky in a tidal wave of love and hope, tears streaming down my face.

I feel something approach me, a cluster of mana. After a moment I recognize the soul of the little girl I couldn't save. The energy of the new day seems to be interacting with her, pushing her towards completing her incarnation. She's resisting it for some reason, and reaching out to me.

I try to speak with her but she doesn't respond, instead reaching out more desperately. She seems almost...afraid, and I can't help but think that she wants to hold my hand. That she's scared of what's happening, and doesn't want to be alone.

I reach out to her with my mana, and she latches onto it even as the power of the sun forces her to incarnate. A flash of light and an odd yet familiar power blind me for a moment. I feel something plop into my lap and start squirming.

Blinking a few times to restore my sight, I look down to see what she became.

I look down to see a ball of black fluff, wiggling. It takes a few moments, but the ball of fluff eventually stands up on wobbly legs. Looking up at me with bright red eyes, it meows.

The kitten meows again and this time I oddly seem to understand it's intentions, if it were a human it'd be saying, "Hey, are you listening?"

I focus my senses on myself and the kitten, finding something odd.

There's a small stream of mana flowing between us in both directions. It ties us together like a small, infinite thread. I push a little more mana through the connection, hoping it'll make it easier to communicate. I also see a second, different thread stretching from me out of creation and into the Abyss.

The second thread doesn't freak me out, the day's been too emotionally draining for that. Instead, I just accept that I'm probably well-fucked and move on to more important things, like petting a magical reincarnated kitten. Er...attempting to pet a magical reincarnated kitten.

"Hey! Don't bite me! That hurts you little shit. What's your name, anyway kid?"

The kitten meows again, and this time I hear her voice in my mind instead of just vauge intentions.

The voice says, "Vera. Who are you?"

Distracted by her fluffiness, I reply without thinking.

"Rebirth."

I freeze, the name echoes through my mind, my soul, the understanding bringing changes along with it.

"That's a wierd name. Hey, can you help me find my dad and brother? ...Hey are you listening?"