In his five thousand years of life, Shem had rarely found enemies he despised so thoroughly as these cultists.

The Temple fell quickly. The cultists and enemy soldiers within may have had time to fortify it, but their mages personal reserves were all but empty after the failed ritual. They were not helpless, however. They continued to sacrifice the captured women and children of the city and mold their flesh and bone into hungry, nightmarish, unliving weapons to be used against the Lady Avatar and her forces.

They were things inspired by the deepest fears of the tender-hearted. One man, a young baker, killed himself after destroying a creature made from the corpse of his young wife. She had been pregnant when she was taken, and the cultists shaped both the woman and child into undead things of claws and teeth. The former infant was still tied to it's mother by an umbilical cord that pulsed with dark power. It walked before her as if a hound on a leash.

The baker screamed denial as the soldiers destroyed the corrupted creatures.

As the woman's soul was freed from undeath, she spoke, "I'm so sorry my love...I couldn't protect him..."

The young man collapsed, broken and weeping. He put his sword through his heart before anyone could stop him.

He was neither the first, nor the last, to face such pain that day.

The bodies of the women and children not transformed into weapons were instead mounted to the walls, ceilings, and decorations of the temple. Shem's mixed unit of soldiers and civilian militia lost more men to mental trauma and suicide than anything else.

The sun was rising by the time the temple was secured. It had only taken two hours to enter the temple and put down the remaining cultists and the soldiers supporting them. Shem couldn't help but admire how the Mother of Mountains made such short work of them. Her spells were empowered by the wrath of Belisama Andraste herself as the broke the cultists and their creations.

On another day he might have shuddered or recoiled in horror at the hexes and curses the Mother used to slaughter the cultists, especially as more than one was devoured from within by insects as their extremeties burned, but not today. He felt no pity for these beasts pretending to be men, and felt that allowing them death at all was a mercy.

Of the city's ten-thousand former inhabitants barely three thousand remained living. Shem doubted they'd remain in the city after today. After all, aside from the personal pains of the people, like as not the deaths here would leave a stain on the buildings and the land itself. Best to ask the Lady Avatar to bless the place before their departure, to give a little peace to the echoes of the dead.

He put the events within the temple from his mind as he walked outside to greet the first light of dawn. He breathed deeply as the warmth of it touched his face, it had felt like a century rather than a single night. He yawned and stretched his limbs.

There was a small grove of old oaks near a pond in the temple park near the plaza. Shem turned towards it, planning to bathe in the pond and sleep among the boughs for a time, while the younglings sort through the survivors. He paused for a moment, at the thought of survivors, and considered the young guardsman he fought beside earlier.

Mayhaps I should check on the lad...Martin? No, Maevin...make sure he hasn't harmed himself. There's been much of that lately, and I know not if he has any family left. I never did learn if it was a daughter or sister the boy lost...

A roar from the trapped Bloodborn seized his attention.

Shem turned to the binding circle, shocked that the creature still lived. The Bloodborn was kneeling with hands pressed to the barrier with thick bloody tears streaking it's near-black face as it stared at the rising sun. Shem knew it should be burning in the light, it's body rendered to ashes as with all Vampiric things. Instead of a screaming mask of hellfire, it's face was the image of grief, pain, and unrelenting sorrow. It roared again.

For all it's power, it was a broken thing, that roar. It was a cry of mourning, hoplessness, loss, and need. It reminded Shem of a child he once knew, the sound matched the pain in their eyes.

She was a pretty little human of eight years with brown hair and bright grey eyes, and though she was a child it was obvious she would become a beautiful woman. He had met her at a brothel.

Her parents had been farmers who died of illness in mid-spring, two weeks before Shem arrived in town. Her father had borrowed heavily to buy seed as the winter had been harsh and lingered, forcing them to survive on their stores and were left with too little for a new crop. His creditors wasted no time taking the land, and sold her as a slave as well once they realized she had no other family to protect her.

She was purchased by the matron of a pleasure house. A vicious woman she was, almost all the girls she had were slaves and the rest so indebted to her that there was no difference save the collar.

Shem sighed as he opened the bright red door of the brothel. He knew at least a handful of the employees would be slaves, with at least one or two of them elves. Shem would never have set foot in the place if there had been room at the inn.

The cost of a room for the night at the brothel was five times what he would have paid at the inn. The price covered one night, dinner, an ale, and 'company' for the night. He had just finished his dinner when women began decending the stairs.

The meal was decent and the ale less so, but the available 'company' had him gripping his belt-knife. When half the matron's whores were enslaved elves he was upset enough, but he nearly murdered the bitch on the spot when she pulled a little girl into the lineup.

The child had long brown hair and terrified blue eyes. She wore a frilly dress and stood half as tall as the matron. Shem was terrible at judging the age of humans, even after spending several centuries among them, but the child was obviously not even old enough to have a monthly cycle.

He originally planned to choose one of the elven women and let her sleep through the night instead of bedding him, then in the morning ask if she or any others had family he should contact. He might even have been able to free them if it was only a few. Now, he may need to protect the child instead.

The other patrons began calling out their choices for the evening. Shem watched as the women flirted with the men through dead eyes as they journey upstairs, barely hiding his disgust.

Fools. Those women want nothing more in life at this moment than to rip your cocks off and feed them to you. If they were free women doing this of their own will, it would be different...but this...this is evil itself and should be stopped. Hmm...I can't kill all the men and burn the building with the bitch inside... not at the moment... I'd like to sleep indoors tonight and it's not as if I can break this many collars easily...one or two tonight? Yes. Ten? Perhaps. Twenty? No, not before being caught stealing slaves...I need more time...

That man is paying quite a bit of attention to the child. Glancing between her and one of my people, are you? Well...I'll make the decision for you, then.

Shem waved, catching the matron's attention and pointed to the child. The vile woman looked a little surprised at first, but quickly gave him a false smile that turned vicious as she whispered instructions and threats to the girl. The indecisive man at the table next to Shem looked like he was about to argue. Shem cleared his throat loud enough to gain the man's attention, met his eyes, fondled his knife, and showed his teeth in a feral smile. He could feel the scars on the left half of his face pull the expression into a snarl. The man paled in fear at first but regained himself quickly, then reddened in anger before picking an elf slave with the same hair and eye color as Shem before offering a cruel smile of his own.

Shem's knife was halfway out of it's sheath when the girl arrived at his table. She said something Shem couldn't understand and extended her hand. It was likely a greeting and parroted attempt at flirtation, but she stuttered so badly it was impossible to interpret. Resheathing his knife, he took her hand and allowed her to guide him through the tables to the stairs behind the line of enslaved women.

As they passed by the elf the other man chose, he whispered to her in the language of their people. Speaking low enough that the humans wouldn't hear.

"Forgive me sister, that man will be cruel. I chose the child to spare her his attention."

He saw her relax slightly as she passed by, whispering, "All is forgiven."

Once in the room, the trembling child tried and failed to undress herself. Before Shem could stop her she had tangled her hands in the laces of her bodice with her shaking. It took the better part of an hour for him to untangle the mess without breaking her fingers. Stuttered apologies tumbling from her the entire time. When he was done, he met her terrified gaze and tried to reassure her.

"It's alright little one, you don't need to apologize. My name is Shem, what is yours?"

"M-M-Margaret..."

"Glad to meet you Margaret, may I call you Maggie?"

"M-M-M-My d-d-dad-dy u-used t-t-to ca-call m-me that..."

"Ah, well...if calling you 'Maggie' reminds you of sad things, I'll use your full name..."

"O-o-k-kay..."

"Now then, Margaret, instead of doing...other things...I'd rather just talk tonight... Will you tell me about yourself?"

"I-if that's w-what you w-want..."

It took hours for Shem to hear her short tale, mostly because the more upset she became from the memories the worse her stuttering was. Her parents died while in debt, therefore all their property seized and all their children sold. The pretty young girl was purchased by a brothel and immediately forced into plying her 'trade'.

The Matron told the child she was quite pleased when Margaret's maidenhood was bought for thirteen gold. It was three gold more than what she paid for the child in the first place. As a reward the vile bitch gave the girl a salve for her bruises.

Overall, her story was all too common. There were no free orphans in the Empire. Too many in the land were all too willing to trade a child, either their own or another's, for a few coins. Let alone the windfall of gold that could be gained from selling the 'pretty' children.

It was all too common, but even so...Shem couldn't let it stand. Not now, not ever. Not after meeting her or any other slave. He listened quietly, calmly as she told him of her kind, desperate parents. But as her story continued, the actions of the Matron and the few sadistic clients the girl had been forced to bed brought Shem to absolute stillness. A self-enforced calm lest he act too hastily. He'd need to plan, prepare, and wait for the 'customers' to spend themselves with their revelry.

After all, it's always easier to kill the slavers in their sleep. It was how he himself escaped after all... patience... and a talent for breaking enchantments. It was his only real magical skill. A useless ability for most as it requires a few solid moments of physical contact.

Remembering his own captivity, Shem looked into the girl's eyes. Their depths were full of innocence overwhelmed and withered from constant pain, constant fear, helpless sorrow...and an aching need for hope, for kindness. He knew that gaze...it was his own once...long ago...but never forgotten.

Shem offered the girl a kind half-smile, "Margaret...would you like to see some magic?"

The Elf's reccollection ended as a wave of power shattered the barrier containing the Bloodborn. He watched as the outer creature broke into thousands of night-black birds he didn't recognize. Their cries sharp and unlike anything he had heard before. Once the Bloodborn's golem dissappeared the the strange birds seemed to rise from the very ground itself, the numerous corpses around the plaza vanishing in a could of feathers.

In their place was a child in fine, if plain, clothes. The child was sitting limply on the ground with golden hair and eyes that blazed with the light of the sun, glinting off their tears as they stared at the blazing dawn. Though the child wore trousers, Shem couldn't tell if it was male or female. Though it looked decidedly non-vampiric.

The child blinked after a moment and looked off to the side, seeming to stare at something Shem couldn't see before reaching up to touch empty air with one hand. Light flashed, and a tiny black animal fell into the youngling's lap. As Shem approached he saw the small creature, a kitten, bite the child's finger. Cursing, the child seemed to speak to the tiny animal and collapsing after saying a word that echoed with meaning in Shem's mind, "Rebirth."

He checked the child's pulse as he kept it's head from hitting the ground. The slow, steady pulse reassured him. The kitten mewled and Shem saw it too fall unconcious against the child's hand.

"So much for getting a little shuteye," he sighed.

I find myself standing in a barren grey landscape. The ground is just cracked stones with a little dust and gravel, all depressing and grey. There's sporadic blackened dead trees scattered about, barely visible through thick white fog that seems to glow slightly as the only source of light. The air is still and cold enough that my breath fogs, and I have the cloying sense that the mist is watching...waiting... Not only that, but I have a niggling sense of familiarity with it.

In other words, it's stereotypical, yet effective, creepy shit with and undercurrent of "wait-have-I-been-here-before?"

"Ah, fucking fuckitty fuck fuckedness! Just...shitfuck! Am I really remembering something now? In the middle of a battlefield with who knows how many crazy, necrophiliac cultists running around? Seriously, self? Something GOOD just happened to me! Yea, it was just watching a sunrise, but goddamnit! No, GODS-damnit goddamnit! Wait-NO-FUCK! AGH! I'm not even conciously consenting to this right now!"

"Are you okay?"

I look behind me when I hear the voice and find a familiar looking little girl. Her face has that look kid's get when they're pretty sure the adult in front of them has lost their mind, but don't have enough life experience to really call them out on it.

Sigh, great...

"I'm fine, I was yelling because I'm frustrated with getting dragged here. How did you get here? I'm pretty sure this is inside my mind or soul..."

The kid moved closer to me as she responded, pretty ruby eyes taking in the landscape, "I don't know...I was talking to you but...it got dark again...I thought..."

She stopped talking then, but she didn't need to say it for me to understand. I saw the life fade from her body after all... and I could feel her emotions through the mana flowing between us. She thought she was dying...again... and no child should ever feel that. Ever. She didn't say it, but she needed a hug. Badly.

I knelt down and held my arms out, trying to project safety and comfort through the soul-bond. She was hesitant until I stopped 'projecting' and just...showed her what I actually felt at that moment. The guilt over not being able to actually save her. The eho of my own heartache from all the death and killing in the city. And above all else, the honest concern and desire to help her as much as I can no matter what happens to me.

She was watching me, wary, until she sensed my honest emotions. Then she ran to me and squeezed with all her tiny might, sobbing the way only a broken child can. I held her as tightly as I could without hurting her, letting her sense my desire for her to feel safe. In return, I felt every bit of her screaming emotions.

Damn, kid...Damn.

It was a while before she started calming down. Long enough that I was sure I'd walk with a limp for a while. My knees were screaming.

"Vera?"

Her voice was muffled a little since her face was buried in my shirt, "Y-hic-ea?"

"I won't let anyone else hurt you, especially not here, and when we get out I WILL help you find your family. Okay?"

She choked and nodded as I felt my words hit home. I squeezed her and stroked her hair for a moment as she gathered herself again.

"Vera, I'll hold you as long as you want, ok? Just let me know when you're ready."

Another nod. I could feel the dampness on my chest. She'd cried through three layers of clothes, one water-resistant.

Well...Looks like I adopted a kid...though...I suppose she adopted me, really. Wierd that this is all happening in my head. It doesn't matter though, your reality is shaped by what you experience... Huh...now that she's calming down there's not as much emotional transfer happening. It must be an adaptive rate, the flow of mana adjusting dependant on need... thats... like a powerful familiar bond. Shit...I should...

Nope. No. Not worrying about it now, too much other shit to do.

She let go after a few more minutes, mumbling an apology.

"There's nothing here you should be sorry about. Everyone needs a hug like that sometimes, even me."

Nodding again, staring at the ground this time, was her only response.

"Alright then, c'mon V, lets get walking."

Offering my hand got her to look up, eyes vulnerable.

"C'mon, it's alright, we're just going for a walk."

We walked for about an hour, the waist-high child holding my hand with both of hers, before Vera broke the silence.

"Why are you bigger here?"

"I don't know, it's always like that. Do I look different?"

"Yea, you look like a grown up."

"Thought so since you're shorter...say...do I look like a boy or a girl to you?"

I'd like to check, but I'm not digging in my pants with you around...

"I don't know...kinda like a boy but also pretty...some girls wear pants too so I can't tell. Which one is it?"

Uh...shit. Well...ah, fuck it.

Sigh, "Neither. I haven't figured it out yet."

"You don't know? Did you check?"

Thoroughly. With help.

"Yes. I wasn't born this time around... See, when we die our souls leave our bodies and go somewhere else. Then, when the time is right for us, we're born all over again. When that happens we don't remember anything, so we get to start all over. Sometimes things are better and sometimes they're worse, but dieing doesn't last forever. Most of the time.

I'm...a little different. I died, and then used magic to make myself a new body like you did. But, because of the way I did it, and because I remember more than just one life, I don't have boy or girl parts. So now I have to pick, but I want to get it right. Or at least try to."

Great going Me. Talking about genitals with an eight year old I just met today. One who's been emotionally traumatized in a thorough and brutal way. Seriously self? If I heard about this conversation from someone else I would have serious issues with it and that's a GINORMOUS red flag. Like...just...fuck me with a cactus, where else was the damn conversation going to go after that question? Think ahead next time!

"So, Vera, do you mind if I call you 'V' sometimes?"

"It's ok, my brother calls me that... Can I call you something else? 'Rebirth' is a weird name."

"Sure, what do you want to call me?"

"Uhn...Hmm...Reebee?"

"Uh, can you thing of something else?"

"Aw...maybe just Bee?"

"No...sorry...thats the name of a bug in another language I know..."

"Ew, NO! You're too pretty to be named after a bug!"

Pretty...huh...I don't know if I like that complement...it's embarrassing. Is it because I want to be manly or is because I'm self concious over how much Magic kept calling me "cute" when I first incarnated? She also kept trying to put me in dresses...

"Hmm...how about 'Altan' Reebee?"

"Are you really going to be calling me 'Reebee'?"

"Maaaybe~! So, what do you think about being called 'Altan' Altan?"

"Ugh...It sounds alright, but where did you get the name?"

Sounds like a male name...

"It's from a story my brother used to tell me. It means 'red sky' or something..."

Huh, not bad. Not bad at all... Go Vera!

"Huh, well that's fine then, at least it doesn't mean something gross like 'bug eater'!"

"Eew! Hey, what's that over there?"

"That is called bullshit, Vera. A great steaming pile of it."

"No it's not! Stop being gross! Do...do you think there's anyone over there?"

Vera moved behind me as she spoke, hiding from the heap of bullshit I was glaring at. It was a throne made from great slabs of black granite, roughly decorated with beaten gold and patterns of polished, uncut gemstones. Oh, and bones. Lots of bones, skulls, ribs, femurs, a few vertebra. It was sitting there, empty and creepy. About what I expected from the landscape really...

"Well, lets get this over with. Don't let go of my hand, ok?"

"Don't worry, I'll protect you Vera..."

"Geallúintí a leithéid mo thighearna! An bhfuil tú eagla nach iad a choinneáil?"

The voice seemed to come from the mist itself, overbearing and all-encompassing.

"Oh shit."

Psycho AI is in my mind...not good.

"Reebee, there's a lady..."

Sure enough there was a woman sitting on the throne. Her body hidden by shadows and mist save for her legs, which were crossed and bare to the thigh.

Woo! Damn! Well, that settles another question. I'm either male or a lesbian this go-round...

"An maith leat an comhlacht ar mo thighearna?"

"Yea...I still have no idea what language that is. Care to try another?"

"Ag lobhadh bod capall! Will this foul language suffice?"

"Sure, whichever one that is. I hear everything in English except whatever that other language was."

The woman sighed, recrossed her legs, and chuckled when she caught me looking.

"Well my Lord, to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"

"I have no idea, I thought you brought me here. Where is this anyway? Also, who are you? I'm assuming you're my AI because of the language thing."

"Oh? You must have regained your concept then my Lord. As for who and where, I am all that is left of Morrigan, Goddess of Death, and this is the withered corpse of my demense. The question you will next ask is, 'Why do you call me 'Lord' and 'Master'? The answer is, 'Because you killed me.' But you don't remember do you my love, my master, my enemy, my murderer?"

Oh shit.

"Do not fear, I cannot harm you, and now that you are here I have a proposition...well...two propositions..."

I swear I could see a seductive smile in those shadows.

Down boy! No assumptions.

"Do you desire power master?"

Damn...well...it's not like I have the right equipment for the other thing...

"Power always has a price Morrigan."

"Even when it is already yours?"

"...Explain."

"Reebee, no! She's scary!"

"It'll be alright Vera, I'm only listening to her offer. Odds are I'll refuse."

"Don't be so certain my love..."