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How long has it been? How long have I been lying here for? I guess it didn't matter. Everything was dark, anyway, and all I could feel was something big and weighty pressing into me, exacerbating my pain. My physical pain. In fact, I didn't feel any emotional pain whatsoever. I guess that was good, since it would have undoubtedly been horrifying otherwise. And so I lay, trapped and unable to move, in a place I wasn't even sure I was in. Perhaps I would die here, presumably of starvation, though I think I was bleeding a lot, too. Maybe the wounds healed - it was difficult to tell. I couldn't remember how I found myself trapped here, but the more I painstakingly concentrated on it, the more I recalled.

I wasn't in Midland anymore, what I considered to be my homeland. I knew that much for sure. I think I was still in Hel, the so-called demon realm, seemingly trapped. Especially with this big thing on me. It was cold, whatever it was. And a bit wet. Anyway, I had come to Hel with my mate and my lover Kai, a beautiful young panther who was far more than I ever deserved, to destroy the Crimson King, the evil ruler of this land. He, of course, was gone now - escaped with my boy and his soul. I could only imagine what the evil King was doing to my boy right now. For two years previous, Midland had been covertly overrun with his hideous Disciples, hiding in plain sight as regular furs. They were meant to pave the way for their master's return, and were released with the blood of the Sacrifice. But it was only the Sacrifice's soul that could release the wicked King from whatever power bound him to this land. In retrospect, I never should have taken Kai with me. But I played the Crimson King's game perfectly, following the trail he'd laid out for me, all the while thinking I was somehow defying him.

All of that was still perfectly clear in my mind, though. It was after the King escaped with my boy where things started to get hazy. I could remember being broken and beaten, barely able to hobble on my twisted and shattered footpaws, and I could remember the look on the Crimson King's face when he vanished in a blazing flurry. It was the sort of confident grin that said, "this was almost too easy." Then after that I remembered...the Darkness. Yes... That familiar, choking Darkness which took an extremely tight hold on me. So tight, in fact, that I, a mercenary tiger named Luca, had vanished completely. It was as if I was elsewhere and being forced to watch a black, vile monster tear through everything that came near it. An inhuman being of absolute malevolence, driven only by rage and hate, and very likely madness. It was frightening to watch, yet impossible to close my eyes or turn away. And in vague remembrance, I saw the other monsters, the Disciples, who had been attacking my wicked counterpart, running away. Trying desperately to flee, but finding no safe haven. I think they were scared, and likely feeling far more Human than I was. Feh... They didn't have a chance. Black, inky blood was flying everywhere, which only delighted the monster tiger even more. Although it was still difficult to tell, I was certain, while still stuck beneath whatever had trapped me in that spot, I still had the taste of that blood on my tongue. And the more I concentrated on the revolting taste, the more I remembered.

Remembered the monster tiger tearing off limbs with such incredible ease, despite his shattered bones and torn muscles. I then got suddenly painful images of the monster tiger holding these limbs above him and delighting in his feast of blood and gore. It was almost enough to make a trapped tiger throw up, though it wouldn't be any mystery what would come spilling from his maw. Beyond the dark encasement and the savage annihilation of my enemies, there wasn't a whole lot else to remember. There were only a few Disciples at first, which the monster tiger had felled easily and without much provocation, and if there were more they, too, had been defeated with an equal amount of ease. After mercilessly tearing apart my enemies, revelling in their pain...I couldn't remember much else. Just...falling. It was a long terrible fall, one I was certain would never end. But it did. And now I found myself trapped beneath something I couldn't move. Is this what death was like?

Suddenly, contrary to countless hours or days or even weeks before, I heard a noise. I tried to look around, not knowing if I was actually moving my head, but saw only darkness still. The voice was drawing nearer, but it seemed to encompass me. To surround me. The Crimson King would have no reason to contact me now. So who was it? Or what was it? I then saw a blinding, flickering light from what appeared to be far off. And I seemed to drift closer. Either that, or it was drifting closer to me. In my current physical state, it was very difficult to tell. Upon closer inspection of the flickering light, which my eyes had already adjusted to, I saw it was a single candle on a single small table, and when I looked down, I saw my chest and my stomach and even my sheath and balls and legs in the dim light. I wasn't cut or broken or maimed, but simply floating there in front of the table, and the candle. I then heard a deep, chilling and familiar laughter in front of me, and when I looked up, a large, vaguely tiger-like black mass was standing before me, its nondescript, glowing red eyes piercing into me. Each breath it breathed drew a quiet, rumbling growl from it, but most terrifying was its shapeless form. Although clearly taking on a tiger-esque shape, long swirling strands of its body seemed to flow off of it in all places, floating upward. It had a smoke-like quality to it, and yet they were clearly solid strands, like extensions of its purely black body. I could see its maw, even, in the flickering candlelight, a wicked, infinite void that looked like it could suck the very soul out of anyone who dared near it. I apparently didn't have a choice, though it hadn't moved much. What was this frighteningly familiar monster? We just continued to stare at each other, neither one of us making a move. Perhaps this was the Angel of Death, finally here to whisk me away. Or, perhaps, it was...Death on the Battlefield?

Before pondering that thought any further, the monster lifted its arms, pieces of its dark limbs flinging upward like ropes, and then quickly burst forward, striking my chest. Its fingers wrapped easily around my body, now spiralling down my back and across my stomach, and before long, endless black strands constricted my entire body, including my legs, arms, neck, head, and of course my sheath and balls. Luckily it wasn't being particularly sexual - all its tentacle-like pieces were moving about my body, which did happen to tickle my balls and sheath - but instead held me there for a long moment before drawing me closer. The table seemed to have disappeared, along with the candle. Oddly, the light remained. As I was pulled closer to the monster, I tried to move but couldn't. I couldn't speak, either. If the monster wanted to torture me in some way, it was certainly taking its time.

"We," it suddenly spoke, in a deep, vowel-extending voice, "are one and the same."

Hm. Well that certainly took a bit of mystery out of who this strangely familiar beast was. Did it really have to wrap me up like this to tell me, though? Still I couldn't speak, however it nodded anyway.

"I am you, and you are me. You can deny our deepest connection no longer... Submit to me and free yourself from the bonds that affix you to this dark, wretched land."

I had to admit to being tempted; I didn't have much else left in my life. But I also knew what would happen if I chose to totally submit to Nosferatu. I would cease to be Luca. I would be an uncontrollable monster devoid of any emotion, tearing through the world like it was nothing. People would try to stop me, but I would cut them down without remorse. Even the innocent ones. I don't even think I'd enjoy doing it. I would just do it and move on. It's doubtful even my dear, sweet young panther could stop me. No. I would not submit.

"You have already given yourself once to me," the inky beast spoke, caressing my body softly and warmly. So soft, in fact, it seemed to wipe the pain away like some kind of horrible crust. "Unite your soul to me and gain the power to defeat any enemy..."

Any enemy? My thoughts went straight to the Crimson King, who had more easily than I'd anticipated beaten me, and stole the love of my life, Kai. That beautiful young panther, only fourteen years old... Before I could give my boy another thought, the black limbs which held me tight began moving a bit more vigorously, but not aggressively. I felt these warm, black arms sliding up and toward my tailhole, not pushing in yet but sort of sitting there, circling the hole. And while they did that, one rose up from between my legs and firmly gripped my balls, but not painfully. As they squirmed about, a few slithered up the sides of my sheath and while I wasn't hard, they proceeded to widen my sheath and slip in. None of this was painful - unlike many previous encounters with black, tentacle-using beasts - but in fact felt quite good. Perhaps rather than trying to force me into compliance, Nosferatu knew me well enough to know that wouldn't work.

Stop, I tried to say, but it kept going. Kept feeling good, too. I didn't know if this would classify as rape, since after all I'd been through, I was probably more willing than I'd care to admit. That, and it was being far too gentle. With the black demon tiger stroking my meat from within my sheath, I was finding it harder to resist. I barely struggled, and let out a long, noiseless sigh, finding myself more relaxed than I probably should have been. Nosferatu...despite the horror this monster had inflicted upon many people - from fellow soldiers to even Kai - it was becoming increasingly more difficult to deny what it had said. After all, I had no one left in my life, and no possessions worth fighting for. In fact, I was next in the long, ancient line of depraved and wicked souls, born only to destroy the lives of the good and just, or otherwise innocent.

"No one in this world or the next is innocent," Nosferatu chuckled, pulling me closer. I had let my body go limp by this point, relaxing in its warm, sinful arms. "We will be the dark, hideous light to their shining, guiltless shadow. Only together can we put balance back into the world."

I didn't know what it was talking about, but the gist seemed to be freedom from this heavy, dark place I had found myself stuck in. Do we have to kill them? I tried saying, figuring it would hear me.

Nosferatu growled. "It is the only way...it is why I exist."

This was making no sense to me. I had learned from my brief encounter with the Crimson King that sometime, thousands upon thousands of years ago, he had conceived an evil child from which I am descended. How could this Dark Presence - Nosferatu - have a consciousness of its own? Perhaps...it was simply my subconscious? Was I going mad? Or maybe I had already gone mad. Or maybe over the millennia, the Darkness that had always dwelled within me had simply grown or evolved. But...that didn't make much sense either. The only person who could make sense of it was my good friend, an ex-Holy Knight named Keefe, and by this point he was either dead or long gone.

"In a place like this, can you truly afford to be so selfish?"

Selfish?

Nosferatu chuckled. "I have been riding in the back of your mind for far too long, rarely being released. And you would condemn yourself to Hel's darkest abyss simply to be contain me?"

I'm certain if this was any other moment, I would have been scared shitless, hearing that my Inner Darkness sensed as much as it apparently did. How was I to know this Presence had a sort of life of its own, let alone conscious thought and desire?

"If you release me from your mind and let me take control...I promise you I will conduct myself in a respectable manner. That is, until the situation calls for otherwise..."

Was it being serious? I felt like I was bargaining with a child. But how could I possibly trust this thing? I wasn't even entirely sure if it was real, anyway. I had to admit, though, I was still tempted to go through with it. By this point, however, it was clear Nosferatu couldn't control me directly, and in essence, needed my consent to be released. That became fairly evident when I'd felt the Darkness scratching and clawing madly at my gut when the Crimson King had finally taken my boy and left Hel completely; I let it take over without a second thought. Until I found myself here, that is.

"There is nothing for you here, nor anything for you there. You have only me. And together we can exact our revenge for all who you have lost. Besides...I rather enjoy my time out of your head."

This was getting too strange. And yet a part of me was feeling somewhat sympathetic, though I knew I should've have been. If Nosferatu was, in fact, a consciousness of some kind, then it was imprisoned within me, and like all things deserved to feel freedom. But...was it worth it? It's not like my Darkness would be punished for whatever evil it would surely commit. I would be forced to watch innocent people be snuffed out like they were nothing, and good soldiers be torn apart for doing their jobs. But just as I started to have those thoughts, the many black arms holding me tight began moving around again, and the one between my butt-cheeks pressed into my tailhole gently. I heard Nosferatu growl, then slowly slide in.

It was strange, but it felt incredibly good. The limb was smooth, long, and not too thick. It was just right. I guess having lived inside me my whole life, my Inner Darkness would have learned a thing or two on how to please me. I couldn't help but moan softly, despite not making a noise. Soon enough, moments before the near-arm would have pushed in too far, the small tentacle-like limbs grasping my balls moved gently, and it took almost no time at all for me to become fully erect. Of course, it was possible I was already erect and just hadn't noticed; being held in the position I was, I wasn't able to look down. Suddenly, much to my spine-tingling surprise, the ass-arm began pulling out, and in perfect harmony with the other body-massaging limbs, began pumping into me. It was slow at first, but soon quickened, and Nosferatu just chuckled away.

God damn it, I tried to say. Once again, I wasn't sure if this constituted as rape. I couldn't resist even if I wanted to, and I was fairly certain I didn't want to. The monster, whatever it may have been, was right about one thing; I had nothing left in my life. There was no point in lying in this place - presumably Hel - and as far as I knew, all my friends were dead. There would undoubtedly be no work left as a mercenary, especially with the return of the Crimson King, and I couldn't imagine there'd be many armies left looking for more soldiers. Especially soldiers as messed up as me. And yet when I heard that all-too-familiar chuckle from my dark duplicate, I was resistant. And as I resisted, I felt its arms grip tighter and move harder. I still felt no pain, but I think I was changing my mind about all this.

I can't, I silently said. I don't want this. Stop now... I won't release you, even if it means lying here for the rest of my life.

Nosferatu then growled fiercely and pulled my body up against it. Its black fur was coarse and cold, and stung a bit when it meshed with mine. "You will submit to me!" its voice boomed, then opened its mouth. I just stared into the empty void, hoping I would simply be too big to swallow, though I wasn't particularly hopeful. It roared loudly and angrily as arms squeezed incredibly tightly and its gaping maw neared my face. I was frozen where I was, plastered against this darkest of beasts. I didn't know what would happen if I fell into its empty maw, but I figured it wouldn't be good. Perhaps it was going to force its way to the surface, even if it meant risking my life. If this even was a risk to my life. I was scared shitless, so at the very least, it was at the risk of my mind. Nosferatu could thrive in an empty mind, though. In fact, that was likely preferred. An empty shell of a tiger would suit its needs far more than one with a strong mind holding it back. It wasn't until that very moment where I truly appreciated being as sane as I was. But then why didn't it do this sooner? Perhaps it had to wait until I was in an extremely weakened state.

Suddenly my head began to ache, likely caused my not-so-Inner Darkness enveloping me. I cried out noiselessly and tried to move, but of course couldn't. My head...felt like it was being torn to shreds, bit by bit as the monster swallowed me, until I heard a startlingly overbearing voice, it's words incomprehensible. Whatever it was saying, it had forced Nosferatu to stop, and even pull away. it seemed concerned, likely of its own safety.

Again I heard the voice, clearer this time. "Enough," it said, deep and powerful. It rang through my ears and all around, seeming to come from every inch of darkness. "Foul beast," it spat, which seemed to really agitate the Darkness. From behind me, though I couldn't really see it, a bright light shone, or something of the like, which repelled the inky tiger. It screamed, too, seemingly in pain. And I felt its grip on me loosen, though I still couldn't move.

"No longer shall you plague this soul with your incessant desires. You are a parasite, and though you cannot be withdrawn from his mind, you shall be contained."

I had no idea who this other voice was, but I was glad it was on my side for a change. Nosferatu continued to howl until it was eventually forced further and further away from me, presumably from this mysterious light behind me. I could only assume the voice was the light, or coming from it; that was kind of unoriginal, but I was happy for it all the same.

"Away!" the voice cried, then a large creature appeared beside me. It was impossible to make out exactly what this strange visitor was, but I wasn't about to say anything now. Just as its paw touched Nosfeartu, the Darkness hissed and howled, whipping its many smoky arms around until it finally disconnected from me. It looked as if it was reaching toward me with wicked, yet longing, eyes, but of course was forced away. Second later, I felt my body falling back until it hit something, and I just lay there, still trapped under whatever had bound me here. The figures had vanished and I was left alone once again. I was beginning to think I should have taken Nosferatu up on its offer sooner. Maybe it'd come back?

Just then, I heard another voice, but it was different. Younger sounding. "I think I found him."

Found...me?

Suddenly my eyes were blinded by a searing light, and I groaned. I even heard myself groan. But then a figure appeared, silhouetted by whatever was casting this brilliant light, and reached a paw forward. The smooth, scaly paw gently grazed my cheek, and whispered, "We'll get you out of here." How did the paw whisper?

"He's over here!" the figure suddenly boomed, and another appeared. "Help me," it said, and began to move something. Something...that was atop me. Something big, something heavy and wet. I didn't know what it was, nor did I care. I was breathing heavily, and if I wasn't in such incredible pain, I may have noticed whether or not I was crying. Finally I felt these warm, gentle paws carefully grip onto me, lifting me up. I groaned and growled in pain, but a soothing paw on my back seemed to help that. My body was plastered against it, this beast, and quickly realizing it had no fur, assumed it could only be a dragon. At this point I couldn't have cared less whose chest I was held against.

"Is he alive?" another asked.

"Barely," the one holding me said.

When my eyes finally adjusted to the light, I noticed my saviour had bright red scales, while the other was bluish, but also reddish, too. I groaned as I was moved around some more, finally resting on what I assumed was the dragon's back. It was hard and scaly, yet somewhat smooth, too. When Nosferatu had held onto me, my pain was gone. But now I felt it in full. Before closing my eyes once again, I noticed I was in a castle of some kind, made of black, lava-like rock, and apparently an enormous snake-like beast is what had trapped me there. Of course, it was difficult to tell just what manner of beast it was, seeing as how it was all cut and torn up , and I was certain there were a few others in the massive, gruesome mix. Was this all my handiwork?

"We're getting you out of here," the red dragon told me, though I had already closed my eyes. Moments later I felt his muscles moving beneath me as he walked, slowly and carefully. A foul stench hung in the hot, thick air, a smell that was very familiar to me; dead, rotting flesh. Not that I hung out in graveyards or infirmaries or anything like that, but having been around soldiers and fighters my entire life, there's several sensations that go along with it. Getting hurt or cut is another, but what I felt now went far beyond that. So many of my bones had been broken, including my ankles, in my fight with the Crimson King, and yet in my rage - my demonic rage - I used them anyway, which in retrospect only served to make the injuries worse. Another thing you get used to, along with death, is the stench of blood, whether it be your own smeared into your fur or your enemy's.

"You have found him?" I heard a third dragon ask. "And what of the boy?"

Although I was resting on the red dragon's back with my eyes closed, I was certain he shook his head. "As we suspected, the Crimson King left with the Sacrifice."

They were talking about Kai, my sweet young panther. Just remembering the softness of his lips against mine made my heart race. He was so eager to please sometimes, I would often oblige simply because of how cute it was. Of course, I would have obliged even if I didn't find it cute. My boy made me feel so happy. Just knowing he was there would always be enough to keep my spirits up, even in the darkest of times. Even in the battle with the Crimson King, it was Kai who kept me going. In fact, I think it was because of him that I managed to suppress Nosferatu for as long as I had, though obviously it hadn't done me much good. At least he didn't have to see me as a wicked, blood-thirsty monster before disappearing to wherever the King had taken him. Perhaps somewhere in Midland, or back to Asgard, where he'd met his end so many millennia ago. That was where Kai and I had made up, ending a year-long silence between us. The more I thought about my boy, I began to realize the Crimson King probably didn't kill Kai, and that he was still alive someplace. Alive and with the evil King. Which meant every second I spent in Hel was a second in Midland I was losing him more. With a muted groan, I painfully began to stir upon the dragon's back, muttering Kai's name.

"He speaks," someone said.

I tried my boy's name again, heart pounding as his image stuck in my mind. Although my body pained, my heart was ablaze. I couldn't stay here.

"He is naming the Sacrifice," that dragon said again.

"The two had shared an intimate bond," the red dragon - the one whose back I was on - informed the other. "He no doubt laments the loss of the boy." Did I know this dragon?

"Aye, I can sense a pain far greater than his physical injuries," said the other. "We must pay tribute to the fallen child."

The red dragon nodded. At least, I think he did. The rotten stench of blood and corpses finally passed but the air was still hot and foul. All around me I heard what sounded like bubbling or flowing lava and exploding plumes of something, which was probably what was producing, or helping produce, the sulphurous stink in the air. My nose burned as I breathed it in, which only added insult to injury...so to speak. After a long, bumpy dragon-ride through this foul land, the smell slowly faded, though I could still taste it in the back of my throat. Of course, it didn't help that my fur was matted with blood and God knows what else, which I smelled fairly consistently. Eventually we came to a stop.

"Shall we take flight, young Char?"

The red dragon - Char - shook his head. "Nay, not I. You two may meet the others and tell them what we have found, but I fear flight may prove too stressful for the exhausted tiger."

The others affirmed this, I assumed, since they promptly took off, knocking wind and dust all over the place. It's not like my fur could get any dirtier, anyway.

"'Tis you and I now, poor tiger. We must make our way back to camp by land now, lest I drop you from the sky." Wouldn't want that, would I.

I had said nothing to respond, though he had accepted it as if I'd spoken, which worked for me. Once again we were off, my body seeming to be soothed by the rhythmic motions of the dragon's warm, muscular back. Though the pain was ever-present, especially where bones were protruding from my fur, it was at least dulled by the ride.

"After bringing you to camp, we will start immediately on healing your broken body. There is a vast system of geysers and hot springs throughout our mountainous camp, a fortunate side-effect of the Crimson King's scorched, volcanic territory."

I hadn't ever visited a hot spring before, though I had heard many Lords and Ladies brag to one another about them in Castle Midgard, from my brief service in Midland's army. They apparently have very rejuvenating effects on people, though I hadn't ever put much stock into what those posh, arrogant nobles said. They pretend to know much of war and battles, while having never stepped foot on the battlefield. Of course, that was my job, not theirs. Their job was simply to find places for me to fight, and I would thoughtlessly obey. At the time I didn't care where my orders came from, but simply followed the High Commander's word. I never actually got them from the nobles directly - or the King, for that matter - but did whatever Commander August said. It was easier toward the end of my army career when I actually commanded a group of men myself; the Dragonkin Brutes, the best of whole Dragonkin army.

August - a huge, incredibly imposing and authoritative white lion - seemed to like me for some reason, which is how I was able to rise through the Dragonkin ranks so quickly. Shortly before I'd joined the army, and soon thereafter the Dragonkin, High Commander August had been knighted by Midland's King, which had fortified his troops at the forefront of Midland's army. My first officer, Blade - a skunk quite a few years older than myself - hated me for how quickly I rose up, and even more so when I became Captain and consequently his commanding officer. After all our fighting, however, Blade and I had become very close. In fact, he had taken my virginity from me in the back of some filthy pub in Midgard's dregs. I didn't often think of him, but when I did, I always realized just how much I missed that old skunk. Certainly, if nothing else, Blade reminded me of the good days, before dragons and demons and monsters. The days before having an actual reason to be afraid of the dark...

Of course, the only monster that existed in those times was me, and it wasn't nearly as prevalent as it was now. Before now, Nosferatu was only a nickname - though I suppose it still is - given to me by my enemies. I was an indestructible force, seemingly, unmoved and unstopped by anything. That was how I had grabbed August's attention in the beginning, after felling so many of Maldad's supposed Champions. I was hailed a Champion, myself, which is what had led to my admittance into Midland's army. But now all of that was long gone. Blade was dead - turned into cannon fodder on a less fortunate campaign - and Nosferatu was far more real than Maldad's, or even Midland's, army had ever realized. ‘A different state of mind,' indeed.

My thoughts were then interrupted by the ceasing of Char's movements. I wanted to ask him why we'd stopped, but could hardly even move my jaw. "How're you doing?" he asked me. A rhetorical question, I hope. Though, it was sweet of him to ask. "We are entering a dark forest," the red dragon informed me, "much of which remains undiscovered by my clan; we travel primarily by air."

Why was he telling me this?

"Do not be alarmed if I am forced to leave you someplace temporarily," Char said, continuing along. "I haven't an idea what creatures we will encounter." Ah, perfect. I never liked to admit being helpless, but in my current condition it seemed unlikely I'd be able to protect myself. I wasn't even sure if I'd be able to cry out for help. I had never found myself in a situation quite like this before, where I couldn't do anything for myself. My muscles were beyond strained and the rest of me, far beyond regular pain. And when I did find myself in similar situations, I'd always been carried by an Inner Darkness. But now it was all up to me, and my spirit was far too exhausted and beaten to carry my half-dead carcass anywhere. I had to depend on Char for everything now, something I think I wouldn't ever get used to.

After travelling for what felt like a long while, Char not saying much and myself occasionally groaning, the dragon suddenly stopped and looked about, concentrating heavily on something. If my eyes were open, I would most likely see a frighteningly dark and twisted forest full of creatures furs have only dreamed about. And yet through the screaming pain, I, too, heard a rustling. A big rustling. The kind of rustling you don't stand around listening to for a while... But of course, I hardly had a say in the matter. Char stood for a while longer before deciding to move again, until something inside me was alerted to something. Something dark. I think Char sensed it, too.

Seconds later, I felt my body suddenly begin to fall, and a second after that, I hit the ground with a hard thud. So, too, did Char, and right on top of me, too. I rasped a cry and the dragon quickly got up, snarling at whatever had hit him. Whatever it was, it was gone. Or, at the very least, hiding, and no doubt watching. Lying on the ground, I watched Char, standing alert on all fours, growl and whip his head about. He was breathing heavily, and plumes of smoke blew from between his teeth. "I know not what that was," he said harshly at me, while like a stupid tiger I tried to stand. When he noticed this, he growled once more and, as gently as he could, urged me back down, insisting I wasn't well enough to stand. And he was right. However, in the time it took him to check up on me, the enemy had attacked once more, slamming into Char's side and knocking him over, then bounding off. It was black, whatever it was, and vaguely dragon-like. Could it be a Black Dragon?

Not a moment after Char recovered, the monster attacked again, but this time the red dragon was ready for it. He lowered himself somewhat and rolled as the beast hit him, embedding his sharp talons deep within its flesh. It cried and thrashed about, and with the pair wrestling through the thistles and thorns, it was still difficult to make out the black monster's origins. It then scratched Char severely across the face and bound off swiftly, but Char was quick to pursue. I watched the red dragon nimbly weave between trees until he went upward, and a few moments later a fiery flash from with the foliage. Then a loud, black thump into the bushes, and the red dragon stomped down with a mighty roar, slashing the newcomer across the face. But before he could attack again, he was kicked off, then thrown back toward me. Fortunately, Char had stopped rolling just before crushing me.

When the dragon recovered, his neck was met with a fantastic jaw-snap from the inky enemy, and an even greater roar. Large blasts of fire blew from Char's maw as he angrily gasped for breath, trying to shake the monster. Although it was very much like a dragon, some part of me could see it was not. But its strength was mighty, more especially in its jaw, as it hadn't faltered once. It was at that moment when I realized I no longer possessed the Lionheart; that I must have lost it somewhere between the Crimson King taking Kai with him from Hel, and being discovered in that rotting pile of Disciples. I thought of it, of course, when I realized if I was in any other physical state, I could have easily helped the red dragon out, by, at the very least, throwing him my weapon. But neither of us seemed to have any, though I think Char was depending on his fire-breath and his claws to defend him. Whole lot of good it did him now. To my surprise, however, Char was still hanging in there.

In fact, he had summoned up enough strength to gut-punch the monster, weakening its grip, then slash at its belly. Suppose it was his tough skin which made survival more possible. Seconds later, his other paw slashed the monster's gut, then with a powerful roar, shoved the beast off, gasping desperately for air. He took in one final, large breath, and as the black monster leapt up for another attack, he let forward an incredible blaze of fire, striking the beast dead-on . The monster fell instantly, screeching and writhing in agony, and though Char had stopped breathing his flames, the beast was still alight. The red dragon stared at the wicked drake with disgust, and finally put it out of its misery. He turned back to me and approached slowly, breathing heavily. And all I could do was stare up at him.

"I must...thank you for your support."

Though it was hard for even me to tell, I think I furrowed my brow. I hope he wasn't being sarcastic.

"Aye," he said, as if confirming what he'd said. "I know I confuse you, but if I was perhaps without you, I mayn't have had the strength nor the will to fight the vile Wraith alone."

The Wraith? He wasn't exactly being clear with me.

Char lay beside me, likely resting for but a moment. His wounds hardly looked fatal. "Wraiths aren't quite wraiths in the traditional sense... They are our brothers who had let themselves be consumed by this place - by Hel. And although they are very much alive, to us Dragons, they are no longer. To us, they are simply dark apparitions, lost in this land."

I tried to nod, but it pained my neck far too much. I just groaned instead. Seemed to be just about the only thing I could do. Just then, the dragon nuzzled his face against my side, letting out a long, deep sigh. I guess if he was going to rest, he was going to make himself more comfortable. I couldn't imagine lying on rocks and thistles was particularly relaxing.

I wasn't sure how long we'd been lying there for, but I was soon stirred awake. Or rather, forced to open my eyes. Char was up again, and it appeared his bleeding had stopped. "Come," he said, scooping me up with his paw. The dragon, much to my surprise and relief, placed me gently upon his back once more. I would have objected to him ordering me to "come" in this state, but of course I hadn't the means. Soon enough, though, we were off, myself relaxing against the dragon's muscular back and Char simply walking. I think this time, he was a bit more aware of his surroundings, and as I could smell, breathing much more smoke. Perhaps this was a sign of intimidation, or something of the like.

Just as the blazing sun began to hang above the horizon, Char informed me we had finally cleared the forest, and it would be, more or less, a straight path to the camp. He also informed me it wasn't until now that he realized just how far from the Scorched Planes the camp was, and that he took his proficiency in flight for granted. Which suited me, since even in my healthy state I didn't like it. It was still quite a way until we reached the camp, however, and save flying there, we would have to stop for the night and resume at daybreak. I let out a long sigh, which hurt breathing in, and I was placed under a giant oak tree. I think it was oak, anyway; everything in Hel was twisted somehow.

"If only we had encountered a lake," said Char, removing his light, leather armour. "Then we could have at least rid your body of some of its filth."

I never bathed all that often - more often since meeting Keefe - but I was in no hurry to defend my filth. I reeked of blood and death, and could do nothing to dispose of it. It was, after all, caked thoroughly into my fur. I could only imagine how Char must have felt, being forced to carry me with him. Suppose it wouldn't have been that much of a burden, though, since his head was usually upwind from me.

"Perhaps we will come across one yet," the dragon commented.

I grunted a reply and closed my eyes. Once again the dragon shuffled closer. I glanced over at him, and he simply smiled at me. I figured I should have felt something, but I didn't. Nothing he would have liked, anyway. I did need to keep warm somehow, and save getting the dragon to light a fire, this worked just as well. I closed my eyes again and with a sharp pain, turned my head.

"You needn't worry about a thing," Char told me. I wasn't sure why, though, since I wasn't worried about anything. "I will protect you, and make for certain you regain your strength and your health."

I couldn't tell if this dragon was simply being kind-hearted and selfless, or if there was something more going on with him. I naturally assumed the latter, but having spent a very small amount of time around dragons, I couldn't judge too quickly. History had taught me the latter was far more likely, and if it was, then I had a feeling no good would come of it. Despite what the other dragon had said, I didn't feel much of anything emotionally. As far as I could tell, the greater pain was still just in my legs and arms and chest and my head. Even my fingers and toes. But again, I hadn't spent nearly enough time around them to have a sense for what they know and what they feel. Nevertheless, I felt at least a little comfort next to Char, despite not having much choice in the matter, and with the sun now quickly setting, the brilliant moon now rising, I think I managed to get at least a little sleep.

‘Little,' quite possibly meaning ‘none.' It was a dreamless, restless night, spent mostly trying to turn myself, but to no avail. I was wide awake long before the sun began to rise, and I wanted so badly to get up and wander for a bit, at least to catch a fresh breath. But I would have none of it, not even if I tried. And I did try. Char was fast asleep, and like in most cases, in any other state I could have escaped him easily. But of course, in any other state, I would not be his captive. I simply sighed deeply once more, part of me just wishing for the end. It wasn't like I was living for much now, anyway. I hadn't the means to do so myself, though, and doubtfully had the strength.

How long would it take to recover from these wounds, anyway? So many of my bones were broken, and I wasn't even sure if I had ever stopped bleeding. Besides the broken bones, it felt like every muscle in my body was in searing pain, having been used and strained and reused multiple times in my blind rage. Ironically, the one in control of my body was having the time of its life, while I could only watch. I figured my over-fatigued muscles would recover in at least a week, but probably more. It's the rest that would take a long time. Not just a long time for the pain to recede, but for the wounds to fully heal as well. I had broken bones before, but it had never been anything close to this. First off, it was only ever one or a few bones broken at a time, not dozens upon dozens. Secondly, I could easily fight through the pain, and even use it to fuel me, and it hardly hindered the healing process. Of course, as Keefe would no doubt argue, I wasn't a doctor, and I could have been doing far more damage to my body than I'd realized. That was irrelevant by this point, though. All of it was. I would heal when I'd heal, and so far as I could tell, there was no escaping this place, either. Not unless another Sacrifice came along, and even then I wouldn't know what to do with him. Besides which, if the Dragons could have found a way out, they would have no doubt taken it.

When I opened my eyes once more, having shut them some time after my attempted escape, I saw a deep red hue starting to emerge on the horizon - Hel's morning sun. I sighed again, knowing at any moment, Char would wake up and force me one more time upon his back, feeding me his irritating drivel from time to time, none of which I could respond to. I couldn't even tell him to shut it. But I suppose that was the price for rescue. It would have to be, since I'd lost the few possessions I had.

Sure enough, just as the sun poked its shining head out from behind the distant mountains, Char slowly awoke, stretching a few times before turning to me. "How did you sleep?" he asked. I just frowned, and I think he got the hint. He apologized for the stupid question and promptly dressed himself, slipping into his harness and strapping on a few pieces of armour. Once he was ready, his paw encompassed me once more and plunked me on his red-scaled back. Then we were off.

Now out of the forest, and with the sun rising, our surroundings were much brighter, if not still a little bit eerie. Swirling masses of gas or stars or something still adorned the deep purple sky, reddening more as the sun rose. It was a very beautiful sky, which I saw plenty of from my angle, least when Char's wings weren't in the way. Twisted branches of the roadside trees continuously disrupted my view, and beyond everything else, annoyed me, too. They looked like long, gangly hands, almost, like they were going to come down and grab me, then take me away. In fact, a lot of Hel was like that; like something out of a fairy tale. After all, dragons lived there. I was half expecting to see gryphons about, too, and magical fairies. Hm. Suppose given everything I'd been through, all that wasn't beyond impossible. Especially the gryphons.

After having had enough sky-seeing, I closed my eyes and tried my best to relax, which was relatively easy plastered against Char's soothing body. Every so often he would tell me something, whether it be about a nearby landmark or something that had happened in his Clan's history. None of which I cared to hear, but he told me anyway. It didn't help me sleep any, since I had gotten none at night. The sun didn't help, either. Not just because it was hot and beating down on me, but because its heat both adhered the shit into my fur even further, and it caused me to produce and even worse stench. It was hard to believe such an odour could come from one fur, but I feared it was. Char hardly stunk at all, probably because whenever he could, he'd bathe himself in fire. Maybe that's what it would take to clean my body. But I've burned people alive before - not entirely by choice - and not a single aspect of it looked even close to pleasant. Not even close to unpleasant. No, that wouldn't be the way to go.

After a bit, I managed to get a paw onto my belly, ignoring the bone sticking out. My fur felt all sticky and gross, like I'd just been covered in oil or tar. Eventually, with great pain to me, my arm fell back to my side, forcing out a hoarse groan.

"What is it?" Char asked, stopping.

I made some odd noises, and attempted to move my jaw to speak. Even my tongue hurt - perhaps at some point, I'd bitten it. Hard. I finally gave up; it was clear I was in pain, and required no more explanation. The dragon got it, anyway, and continued along.

"I believe there is a lake near here," he said, raising his head up. "My aquatic brothers had taught me much about sensing and locating water sources. Of course...it could be an underground spring, too."

I rolled my eyes. It was probably lava, anyway, or poison or something horrible. But as Char continued off the path, passing by a greater number of Hand Trees, it would seem he would find it one way or another. He manoeuvred swiftly between the trees as if drawn by something, until he let out an enthusiastic, "Ah ha!" and dipped his head to take a drink. After setting me down once more, as carefully as he could, he removed his armour and stuck a paw in.

All around us were trees, and from afar appeared to be an unassuming lake surrounded by evergreens, even with a tiny island off to the left. The trees, of course, were quite menacing up close, as the leaves looked razor sharp, and I'm certain would do something awful to you without you even knowing it. It was a fair-sized lake, though - one you could probably boat across in an hour or so - and if you didn't know you were in Hel, it would have been very idyllic. At least the water seemed normal. It was clear and glassy, and had Char left his paw out, perfectly still. After testing the water, or whatever it was he was doing, I was involuntarily lowered in by one big dragon paw on my back, while the other carefully caressed my crusty, vile fur. Not a single spot was even orange anymore.

Despite my unheard and unnoticed objection, Char's gentle cleansing did calm me. In fact, since I was just floating in the cold, placid lake, I hardly felt any pressure on my wounds which was very relieving. And I think for the first time since regaining consciousness, I smiled. Though it was possible I still wasn't. It was also nice to see a lot of the black blood melting away from me, ruining this fine lake. The dragon was onto my legs now, and even though he plainly rubbed my sheath and balls, I didn't feel he was taking advantage. Or rather, I think he was earnestly trying to clean up my body, though a ton of it refused to come out. Mostly around my wounds, but I think all around my body, embedded deeper within my fur, there was still an awful mess.

The bulk of it was gone, though, and I looked halfway to respectable. After letting me float for a short time close to the shore, I suddenly heard the dragon gasp. I sensed something, too, and tried desperately to get up, but was thankfully retrieved by Char. He gently, yet quickly, replaced me on his back and prepped for a fight; something in the water was approaching quickly. "Shark Monsters," the dragon barked. Not the most creative name for them, but suppose many of Hel's creatures didn't have any. Beneath me I felt Char take in a big breath, and moments later felt the heat from the fiery stream. Although I heard one horrifying scream, I failed to hear a second. And before pondering where the beast could have gone to, it attacked.

Char leapt back and tail-whipped forward, smacking the monster in the face. It snarled and swiped its sharp claws, which the dragon easily dodged. This beast, while incredibly deadly-looking and strong, seemed rather slow on land, especially in the sand. Char blew fire forward again, but to my amazement, the Shark Monster was fine. Its dark skin was steaming, and when it lowered his arms, gave us a wicked grin. Again it attacked, and again Char dodged, not so nimbly with me atop. He should have just put me down, but for whatever reason insisted on keeping me there.

The two continued their attack-dodge dance for a while, getting in a few hits here and there, but were mostly on par with each other. Char needed to think of something fast if he was going to win. Neither beast had a weapon, and neither were particularly dexterous, both for different reasons. Char had me on his back, and the Monster, while clearly able to survive on land, wasn't made for it. When I noticed sand flying all over the place, no doubt from their feet sinking in so far, I suddenly got an idea. I had no clue how I was to pass on the idea, nor even if it'd work. "The sand," I rasped incoherently, straining my throat and muscles. Char then grunted, as if somehow knowing what I'd said, or what I was thinking.

The dragon took in another big breath, bigger than before, and with a very long, deep, and low breath, blew out a shorter stream of what certainly felt like extremely hot fire. Hotter than before. I didn't know what he was planning, but my idea didn't involve fire. The Monster had easily avoided the fire and just snarled as if to emphasize the ease in which it'd done it. But when it went in for yet another attack, its massive jaws snapping loudly at the air, Char smacked the monster hard with his tail, then grabbed it by the head and swung it downward. I heard a loud thud and what may have been a cracking noise, then again and again like punching a mirror. Soon the high-pitched cracks turned into mushy thuds, and Char finally stopped. He was breathing heavily, smoke billowing from his maw again. He gave a final snarl and crushed the beast's head, now back at the lake's edge. Slowly and solemnly he lapped the water, and soon after addressing his wounds, he dressed himself up again and we were off.

"I apologize for that," the dragon said. "I have never encountered their kind before, nor had I heard tales." Explains the shitty name. "Your quick wit, however, saved us both. It hadn't ever occurred to me to turn the sand into glass..."

Quick wit? All I wanted him to do was throw sand it its eyes. Admittedly, though, his plan was more up my alley, and quite genius. I wouldn't even have thought of that, and if I could have told him so, I would have.

Once more on the path, Char and I continued along mostly in silence, and with the stink half out of my fur, I was able to rest at least a little bit. Hours passed uneventfully, and luckily, Char had managed to keep his mouth shut. When evening rolled around, my hunger mixing in with the rest of my pain, I began to hear noises of some kind, but they weren't alarming. In fact, even if Char hadn't excitedly shouted, "We're here," I would have certainly guessed where ‘here' was. Shortly after his proclamation, the two of us were greeted by what sounded like a few elder Dragons, all of whom got their chance to poke and prod and stare at the useless me, insisting they take me to their Shaman before taking me to the springs. I wasn't sure what a Shaman was, but if it was anything like a doctor, I wanted no part of it. Like I had a choice...

Moments later, after the excitement of my arrival had begun to die down, I found myself indoors in some way - likely a tent - and plopped carefully down on a soft table. The elders soon cleared, leaving only myself and Char.

"The others are retrieving Pike, our Shaman. We have many, but within our clan, Pike is surely the wisest. He will help heal your wounds."

Part of me was glad, while the other part, the bigger part, didn't want help. That part wanted me to heal on my own, but the smaller part, usually the more reasonable part, argued bones can't readjust themselves as much as mine needed readjusting. And of course I was going to side with the small part, the one that would lead to even more pain. Then again, there was that miniscule part of me, the optimistic part, that also said maybe the Shaman would use some sort of magic to heal me, and I really wouldn't feel anything. This part of me tends to get my hopes up, which tend to get crushed.

But like Blade used to tell me all the time, quite often before battle, "Hope for the best, and expect the worse." I guess this was one of those times.

Suddenly someone burst into the tent and strolled up to me, staring at my naked, half-clean and broken body. He looked me up and down, and tapped a few parts of me with a claw, then rubbed his chin. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked, then burst out laughing. I wasn't laughing. In fact, I was growling, and if I could punch him in the face I would have. Was it odd of me to assume their wisest Shaman would be a bit more serious?

"Seriously, though," he continued, straightening himself, "we'll get you healed up as best we can. I have a feeling this'll take a bit more than humour to fix..."

He at least had that much right. Pike then gestured toward the door and after feeling a warm paw squeeze mine, the paw left with Char. Moments later, a few more dragons began hovering around me, sticking odd-looking poles into the ground around me, then backed away. They looked like totems of some kind, like what some artisans back in Midland would carve. These ones looked far more intricate, though, and more menacing. More so when the eyes of the dragon-like heads began glowing. I didn't like this one bit.

"Calm down," Pike told me. "Just relax yourself. They're simply to restrain you, ‘cause frankly, when we start to moves those bones around, holding you will only make it worse."

My eyes briefly widened, and sweat began to absorb into the thick layer of death still in my fur. But when I tried to move, I found it completely impossible; I guess I'd let myself relax just long enough.

Pike then held some amulet dangling off his neck with his left paw and closed his eyes, muttering some incomprehensible words. When his eyes opened, the others appeared, who were probably apprentices. Pike raised both paws and hovered them above me, starting at my right footpaw. He gripped my ankle with two fingers, causing a growl and a shot of pain to run up my leg. I think this was one of the many broken bones where the bone was partly out of my body - I knew I shouldn't have tried walking on it. Now I felt both paws on my ankle, surrounding the entire wound. I was breathing heavily, waiting for the pain. And seconds later, I got just that. Pike suddenly squeezed both paws tightly while uttering words, shifting the bones back into place. I let out a loud, terrible cry as the pain in my lower leg now encompassed the whole leg and my spine. And I continued howling through the torturous pain, feeling the bones grinding and moving about inside me. When the bones finally stopped shifting, Pike held his paws there longer, which soon replaced the intense, shooting pain with an intense burning pain, which quickly dulled.

Breathing heavily, growling out, I suddenly snarled at the Shaman, as his paw had just run over another protruding bone, this one on my shin.

"It's the only way," he shrugged. "Better to get it all done with now, hm?"

"F-fuck...you," I barely managed to say, my throat feeling as if I'd swallowed a bunch of knives. I could still hardly speak, my voice beyond raspy. It also seemed I still couldn't get much out before having to stop again, which Keefe would be pleased to hear. After seeing my boy disappear with the Crimson King...well, I couldn't remember much beyond that, but there was a lot of thunderous and terrifying roars on my part. Especially when he first vanished in that flurry of fire, I cried out so horribly, even God himself had to have heard me. And I don't even believe in that shit.

"Well that's the spirit," Pike said to me, putting a paw under my calf muscle and the other atop the protruding bone. I could already feel the shooting pain, which was nothing compared to when he began to shove the bone back down. Again I cried out dreadfully, snarling and roaring - damaging my throat even further - until the bone had been positioned properly. Again it was replaced with that odd burning sensation, and I was curious to know what that was.

"I'm simply healing the tissue surrounding the bone," Pike explained, as if reading my mind. Perhaps he really was. "That's what I'm doing when I'm speaking, you see, as well as helping move the bone back into place. It's all about the proper incantations, you see, which when you've been doing it as long as I have, takes just a couple minutes. If one of these guys were healing your broken bones, you'd be there for at least an hour while they read it out of some tome, and probably messing it up. All while holding that bone back down. It's...not a pretty sight. Anyway, you're lucky to have me."

I just grunted. Good to know. A few moments later I was less shocked to feel Pike drive my left forearm bones back into place while casting his little spells, all the while roaring as he held the shattered bones back together. I had never experienced so much pain in one place before, nor in such short amount of time, I wasn't eager to try it again. With the three major bones readjusted, Pike spent a good hour or two locating and, while not quite as excruciating as the first three, painfully repairing the rest of my shattered bones. He then spent the better part of an hour healing up my other open wounds, including a few internal ones I wasn't privy to.

"I could try to fix your throat," the Shaman said with more serious eyes, "but something tells me you would prefer not. It...wasn't your fault, you know. You don't need to punish yourself any further."

I didn't know how he could have guessed, but I just turned my head. Painfully. Although most, if not all, of my wounds were healed, my muscles were still far too strained to do much moving. But it was easier now.

"I feel I should point out that while I've readjusted your bones, they'll still need a lot more time to strengthen. Anyway, beyond telling you to take it easy for a while, you're done here."

I nodded, and soon after the apprentices left, Char re-entered. He appeared worried. "How are you doing?"

"His physical wounds are more or less healed," Pike explained, "but, um...well to put it simply, I can't heal all wounds. He'll need a crutch or pole or something for a while; right ankle was practically falling off. The other one was broken pretty bad, but he should be able to walk on it in no time."

Char nodded, and thanked the Shaman.

"Oh, that's what I'm here for," Pike said, then turned to me before leaving. "Take care of yourself out there."

I just rolled my eyes. Seems no matter where you go, all doctors sound the same. Not that I'd been to one very often.

"Come," Char said with a worried smile, replacing me once again on his back. "I will take you to the hot springs."

After a short, naked trip through the dragon camp, most of them looking like warriors, Char turned into a cave and continued along until he came out on the other side, which was valley-like and very rocky. He followed a makeshift path downward and when he stopped, he slowly lowered me into an incredibly hot, steaming pool of water, which made me gasp at first. But I let my body relax, my bum gently resting against the rocky bottom and simply closed my eyes, trying not to move. Seconds later, my eyes were forced open as a few hot waves splashed my face, and saw Char had gotten in with me. The spring was big enough, anyway.

"There are many springs similar to this one scattered throughout this mountainous valley. Many of our warriors bathe here before battle, to loosen their muscles and to make them more agile and cunning. Besides that, the water here is full of minerals, which aid in healing."

If Char had continued talking, I had easily drowned him out. The Shaman, by my estimation, had worked some fairly powerful magic, as much of the pain was already gone. My bones, apparently, still needed healing, but the worst of it was over. All I needed now was rest, and a lot of it. Usually that wouldn't sit well with me at all, but given the circumstances, it probably couldn't do much harm. All that I'd left in Midland was gone now, and there seemed no hope of ever seeing my friends again. Even if we did get out of here, I'd still have to find them, and it was doubtful they'd even survived the onslaught of Disciples before I was Transcarried here. I let out a long sigh as I thought about them, more specifically Keefe. Kai I figured was still alive, but Keefe...

Him and I had become very close in the days leading up to my journey to Hel. I wouldn't go as far as to say I loved the dog - certainly not in the way I loved Kai - but he held a very special place in my heart. In fact, he had even knotted me, which if I understood correctly was an extremely evident sign of the canine's feels toward me. He, of course, had a mate as well, but there was a particular understanding between us with respect to the special bonds we all shared with one another. That night with Keefe showed me just how much he valued our friendship, and I was certainly eager to show him the same.

"What troubles you?" Char suddenly asked.

"You," I wanted to reply, but instead said nothing. Together we sat in the hot spring for the better part of an hour before the dragon emerged from the steamy bath, pacing around as if to dry himself off. Suddenly from above, I saw a few dragons fly past, then I had a thought.

With the Crimson King now gone, the Dragons were free to roam wherever they pleased, not even having to fear attacks from Disciples. So would they slowly move out of their mountain dwellings? Perhaps this camp was to be the start of a new village, or even a town or city. That, of course, raised the question of how they lived before all being teleported to Hel. Did they have cities there? If so, where were they now, and why had no one found them?

"You look puzzled," the red dragon said. I suppose something in my eyes told him that.

I furrowed my brow, turning my head away a bit, then closed my eyes. Moments later, Char lifted me from my soothing bath, and I was surprised to see a disgusting, blackish mess where I'd been sitting. More so was I surprised to see most of remaining blood in my fur had been loosened and released in the hot spring, and I could actually feel the light breeze blowing through. I was again placed on Char's back, definitely feeling the tenderness of my bones in my wrists and my ribs, but it was nowhere near as bad as before.

"I shall take you to my tent," Char said, passing through the mountain once more. "There you will rest, and a meal shall be prepared."

I grunted my reply as we cleared the mountain, and again walked through a small crowd of Dragons, all of whom just needed to see me. When we reached his modest tent near the edge of camp, he lay me gently on a bed of soft grass and left, hopefully preparing some food. I wasn't used to this sort of treatment, and I somehow doubted Char was used to giving it. I had to commend him though, despite his few irritating habits. I knew how hard it was to take care of someone else alone, having to always look over my shoulder at Kai during every battle, trying my damndest to protect him. I wasn't enough, though. Not even close. I tried so hard every time a Disciple or a monster showed up, even in that year we weren't talking, to keep him safe...but against the Crimson King, I was powerless. And I failed. Wherever he was now, he was probably scared and all alone, having no one there to comfort him. He was probably held captive by the evil King, and God only knows what he had planned for my boy. All because I wasn't strong enough; because I wasn't focused enough. He probably hates me now, too. If only...I could have done more. A tear then rolled down my cheeks and a quiet sob escaped my maw, just in time for Char to reappear. He, of course, immediately asked me what was wrong, and I, predictably, told him it was nothing. As well as I could, anyway.

Char sighed heavily and gripped my good paw between both of his. "You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened," he said. "If anything, you should celebrate your life and be glad you have another chance."

I was feeling far from optimistic.

"If it was written by Fate herself, then there was no stopping the Crimson King's escape."

I wasn't a believer in fate, either, and clearly Char didn't understand what exactly was upsetting me. My mission was to kill the Crimson King, thus vanquishing all the monsters and demons that had entered Midland, but above all else, it was to keep Kai safe. And if not safe, then alive. And as far as I knew, I had done neither. I failed as a warrior, and as a mercenary.

Char sighed again, loosening his grip on my paw. "I have brought you some food. Do...you need assistance with it?"

I think I can feed myself. I just shook my head, then he finally released my paw. With my one good paw and aching muscles, I was able to lift the food - whatever it was - to my maw and take long, painful bites. But after a distressfully long time, I finally got the first bite down, then sighed. The food didn't taste like much, which I was used to, but I hated feeling so...useless. I could barely eat on my own, and moments later I submitted to Char's assistance and pushed the plate toward him. And I think another tear rolled down my cheek, my jaw now aching horribly. I was wearing a constant frown, and turned my head, trying not to look too pathetic. Though I think it was too late for that.

Char took a small bite, considering his size, and chewed it thoroughly, then seconds later, forced my maw open and placed his lips against mine, and before I could object, he was pushing the strange food into my maw. It was awkward and extremely uncomfortable at first, but with some gentle strokes along my throat, the food was eased down. After he had repeated that several times, swallowing the mush easily now, we were done, and I was feeling adequately fed. I then painfully turned myself onto my side, facing away from the dragon, and took another long, deep sigh. I could sense Char was still watching me, then finally left, dousing a torch with his paw. It was still fairly bright, given it was mid-afternoon in Hel, but after closing my eyes, I felt my body rest.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself leaning against a tree in Castle Midgard, thinking nothing of it. The walls were all constructed, not a bit of it in ruin. Curious. When I saw a bunch of my men walking someplace, I decided to follow. I passed by a grand, reflective shield, and from the corner of my eye realized I was wearing my army gear, save my armour. Although you could wear whatever armour you wanted, there were particular elements of your so-called uniform that had to be worn, to distinguish you as a Dragonkin. Anyway, after turning the corner to follow my troops - I was captain by this point - I was suddenly halted by a slim, tough old skunk.

"What do you want?" I said easily to Blade, my second-in-command. He looked pissed.

"Well once again, you went charging off into battle, against the High Commander orders."

"I'm the captain," I replied simply. "I can do whatever the hell I want, and you can't do a thing about it." That wasn't my actual attitude, but I knew it would bother Blade.

The skunk growled. "And what if something happened? What if it was a trap? Then you'd be dead, and the Brutes would be without their Captain."

"First off, you'd become the new Captain, and second, I never knew you cared."

"I care about our troops," he said gruffly. "Not you."

"You could just kill me in my sleep, y'know. That'd solve all of your problems."

"Feh," Blade scoffed. "That's a coward's game. If I was going to kill you, I'd let you choose your battlefield."

I just shrugged. "It doesn't matter what battlefield we're on, I'd still kick your stinky ass."

Blade growled again. "Although Maldad's numbers are far greater than ours, their soldiers are weak. They're farmers and peasants, most of whom have never lifted a sword in their lives. You shouldn't feel so much pride for mowing them down like you do."

"I'm not a Champion because I mow down farmers," I growled. Unfortunately, I had a much larger ego when I was younger. "I'm a Champion because I kill soldiers a thousand times tougher than you."

"Well perhaps if you didn't charge into battle you could let someone else be a Champion. Like this insect, for instance."

I bared my teeth. "No one would ever question a first officer suddenly dying in their sleep."

Blade scoffed again. "You may have August wrapped around your finger, but you aren't fooling me. You're just a coward with a gigantic sword, nothing more."

I didn't like it when my temper got to me, but I was ready to punch Blade's face in. "I'll take you on right here," I said, grabbing the skunk by the shirt. For whatever reason, though, he had his armour on. I was forced to grab his sleeve.

Blade then pushed me away. "Forget it, tiger. You think I'm stupid enough to fight you here?"

"No, I think you're just afraid of big bad August catching you, and watching you lose."

"Fuck you," Blade snarled, now walking past me. Predictably, his shoulder bumped against mine.

"Wuss," I said quietly, under my breath. "Don't wanna stink my fur up, anyway..."

Blade then stopped. And without even saying anything, he turned quickly and punched me right in the jaw.

I was shocked, at first, figuring he'd at least say something before attacking. But at the same time, I was glad to see he had the balls to strike me, and here of all places. "Very good," I muttered, holding my jaw. When I stood up, though, I growled and swung back, missing him, then felt two hard paws strike my chin. I stumbled back, but just as Blade was going in for another attack, I took a step back and grabbed his wrist, then gut-punched him, right below his armour. I snarled as I struck him in the face, then kicked him down.

Blade was quick to recover, which was pleasing, and after regaining his breath, he went at me again. Once more I stepped back, but was surprised by a footpaw to the ribs, then an elbow to the nose. I cried out, feeling the blood pouring from my nose now, but shook it off. He came at me with a few more punches, which I managed to block, but was unable to avoid the knee-to-the-gut, then directly after, the headlock. I punched Blade in the stomach a few times, but it seemed he had me good. However, I did somehow manage to grip a part of his tail and yank, which let me breathe again. It was a low-blow, I know - a step down from simply sacking him - but what choice did I have?

"Coward!" Blade suddenly shouted, kicking me in the face. I stumbled back, but as Blade came in again, I head-butted him, which admittedly hurt me, too, and I landed a perfect blow to his maw. I saw the blood pour from his muzzle, which was payback for my bleeding nose, but I didn't stop. I punched him several more times until Blade tackled me, both of us rolling on the ground, teeth and claws out as we snarled at each other. On my back, Blade pinned me and held up his paw, and it was in that moment before he punched me when I realized the two of us had collected a crowd. Most of them were cheering, that is until Blade punched me hard in the face. But I managed to lift a paw and grip his neck, which fit comfortably within my digits, then push him up. Before giving him another head-butt, I quickly decided against it and simply shoved him onto his back, now pinning the skunk. The slippery bugger, however, had managed to escape my paw and held both against my neck. We were both growling, and all I could do was smear my paw in his face, trying to pull away.

Moments later, though, we were both immediately halted by the booming, commanding voice of our High Commander, the colossal white lion August. He pushed his way through the small crowd of his own muted troops, all of whom had been hooting and hollering not five minutes before. "Get up, both of you," he boomed, suddenly tearing me off Blade. We both stood up, quite humbled in his mighty presence.

"This is no way two of my commanders should be conducting themselves, especially here in Castle Midgard," August growled. He stood above us greatly, several heads above me, now just staring. He looked even more impressive in his armour, which for whatever reason he was wearing. Blade and I just continued standing there, heads held low. I wasn't sure about Blade, but my nose was still bleeding.

August then shook his head. "Go clean yourselves up," he finally said, and just as Blade and I turned, he stopped us. "No, not in the barracks. By the well, right over there."

There was a well in the middle of the courtyard, which until now I'd just assumed was decoration.

"Luca, you will clean Blade, and Blade, you will clean Luca. For once, you two will actually work together, and may it serve a valuable lesson. And whichever of you feel you need to watch...feel free."

Suddenly the crowd of onlookers began laughing and howling, very much anxious to see their commanders humiliated like this.

"Now go," August commanded.

Slowly Blade and I made our way to the well, and finally I brought up a bucket of water. I just held it in my paws, ears drawn back and glancing at Blade, then the crowd, then back at Blade. He was frowning, looking both pissed and humiliated as he removed his clothes and armour. His ears were back, too. When I looked up at August, he was still standing in that one spot, arms crossed and watching. He wasn't going to leave until one of us started.

"T-Turn around," I muttered to Blade, and with a quiet growl, he did so. I then gently poured the water onto Blade's back, rubbing a paw through his black and white fur to get all the dust and dirt out. It was then I noticed a big gash on his right shoulder, likely from hitting a rock, and when I splashed on another bucket of freezing water, I got in close and licked the bleeding wound, which caused Blade to gasp. Moments later, I continued with the water, until the soggy skunk was as clean as I could get him. When he turned, our eyes met briefly, and my heart jumped. What the hell was this, suddenly?

It was then my turn to gasp as the water drenched my now naked fur, freezing me instantly. But I was warmed, more so in my cheeks, as Blade gently rubbing his paws through my fur, giving me roughly the same treatment. Though he didn't lick me. The two of us ignored our men crying out in delight, many of them hooting homosexual remarks. They were right about one of us, anyway.

When we had finally cleaned ourselves, Blade simply grabbed his armour and clothes and took off, and like a dope I continued standing there naked, just watching him leave. August had already left, and when Blade was finally out of sight, I grabbed my things and took off.

I more or less hid in the barracks until nightfall, where I decided to head off to the Dregs. Officers of the Dragonkin aren't really supposed to leave Castle Midgard unless they're on official business, and drinking was certainly not official business. We especially couldn't leave Midgard, so going to my favourite pub in Concord was out of the question. But I did have one place in the city I did quite enjoy. I quickly got up and wandered around the castle until I found a drainage access, which to my surprise was already askew. I thought I was the only one who knew about this... Soon enough I lifted the heavy wood door and climbed in, leaving it up a bit like it had already been. I then took off through the dark sewers, which was fortunately lit enough by my torch. After passing the appropriate number of hatches, I reached the ninth and lifted it up, quickly emerging into the filthy streets of Midgard's poor district. No one cared about who you were or what you were doing there, and were surprisingly close-knit; people were kind and looked out for one another, in their often violent ways, mind you. Regardless of their methods, they had far more heart than the ones in Upper Midgard, all of whom wouldn't hesitate to kill you in your sleep if it meant moving an inch forward.

After wandering the streets for a short while, I found the next best pub to the Tiger's Tail, a dingy place called Lady Luck. With a happy sigh, I busted in and took a seat at the bar. I was immediately handed a huge tankard full of the shittiest -and yet the best - ale the Dregs had to offer. I downed the putrid ale quickly, then slammed the tankard down as a cue to get another. And another I did have. As I took a big swig, I took a look around, and much to my surprise - which nearly cost me a mawful of ale - I saw Blade sitting at a table by himself. Feeling adventurous, I got up and sat beside the skunk. He looked up at me, frowned, and went back to his drink.

And so we sat in silence for a long while before Blade said, "What the fuck do you want now?"

What the fuck did I want? "Just to share a drink with my first officer," I said, alcohol fresh on my breath.

"Well I don't want to share one with you," he replied bluntly.

But after finishing off the rest of my drink, I was feeling less inclined to leave. "How're your injuries?" I asked.

Blade growled. "They're fine. Go away."

"The one on your shoulder looked pretty nasty."

"The way you were treating it, I'd swear you thought it was tasty, too."

I suddenly blushed. "I just wanted it to feel better."

"A few more drinks and it'll be good as new."

" I hear that," I said as I turned, signalling for yet another drink. It came swiftly, and unlike usual, I ignored the fight that had just broken out - I was usually the one starting them. "You know," I said modestly, "if you never want someone to, uh..." I took another drink. "...to lick your wounds..."

"I can lick my own wounds just fine," Blade growled. "I don't need help from some arrogant kid. Now fuck off, unless you wanna finish what we started."

"Maybe I do," I said, though I didn't particularly want to.

Blade stood up and turned to me. "You've had three drinks already," he observed. My tankard was empty again, "of the nastiest shit in Midland. Fighting you wouldn't mean anything."

I just sighed.

"What'd you really come here for?"

"To get shit-faced," I replied.

Blade rolled his eyes. "I mean, why'd you really come to my table?"

I didn't say anything, but just stared up at him. "I know it was humiliating, but part of me..." I really couldn't finish the rest, and yet Blade kept staring. "I...I, you know...I didn't...didn't mind washing you so much."

Blade didn't move a muscle. His face didn't even flinch. He just kept giving me that hard, wicked stare. And I was instantly regretting saying that. "You're a pathetic excuse for a Captain," he told me simply, then grabbed my wrist. Curious, I followed the skunk quickly through the pub, seemingly unnoticed, and into the backroom; into the storage area. And just as we entered, I was swung around, slammed against some barrels, and suddenly Blade had his lips pressed up against mine. I was shocked at first, but after he got a paw under my shirt, I eased into the kiss. Quickly I had my shirt removed, and Blade was already working my pants, for the most part holding our kiss.

His tongue had already entered my maw, and was fighting with mine, which only became more passionate the more undressed we became. Soon I was naked, and after tearing off Blade's shirt and he removed his pants, our kiss broke. I was panting heavily, just staring into his eyes. "Turn around," he said in a deep, commanding voice. And as odd as it seemed, I obeyed. "I don't know why August made you Captain," he moaned as he ground his hot, hard sheath beneath my tail. "You'd bend over for anyone."

Although I would have normally argued that point, I found myself in very strange territory. I had only been with one guy a few times before, but had never given myself to him. It would seem, apparently from out of nowhere, Blade was intent on taking my virginity. And I wanted nothing more.

Soon enough, after he gripped my tail tightly and held it up, he plunged his ass-stretching cock deep inside me, ignoring my pained cries and getting right in there. He then growled and swung a paw around my waist, touching my tigermeat. I gasped, but he stroked it anyway. "I want you to cum for me," he insisted, finally letting go.

"B-but," I tried to argue.

"Do it!" he snarled.

And like a good kitten, I began to stroke myself, finding it difficult when I was shaking.

"What's your problem?" Blade asked.

"This is...really new to me."

Blade just laughed. "How so?"

I didn't stop stroking. "I...I've never had a guy inside me before," I finally admitted, wincing at the pain. "And it's weird having it be you."

Blade then held me a bit more loosely, though didn't pull away. It was still hurting, but I managed. "Hm. I'd just assumed," the skunk said. "Tigers like you often aren't virgins for long."

"Like me?" What did he mean by that?

"Tall," he explained, "and powerful. On the battlefield...you're some kind of monster. And even if you're covered in blood...you're still quite handsome."

I started to blush heavily. Blade would have been the last person I'd have expected to feel that way about me. And yet here he was, at least six inches inside my body and saying it. He then began to move out slowly. "We don't have to do this," he said, no doubt feeling somewhat foolish now.

"No," I said, my other paw holding onto his hip. "Please..."

Most of the way out, Blade held himself for a long while, until he uttered, "Pathetic," and drove himself back in.

I let out a long moan, as this time he went much slower, giving me more time to feel it. And it felt fantastic. I continued stroking myself as he slowly pumped in and out of my rear, each time making my heart flutter. I didn't often use words like ‘flutter' to describe how I was feeling, but I could think of no better. What was even better was listening to the sounds he made as well, pleasure clear in each one. I hadn't ever expected losing my virginity would have been anything close to like this - especially with my first officer - and yet I didn't want this moment to end.

"We're going to cum at the same time," Blade told me after a moan, his paws now taking a tighter grip. I felt his hips much more prominently now as they slapped against my rear, and it was clear he wanted to go rougher. I agreed audibly, despite having no idea if I would be able to pull that off. Despite the fact it was Blade who I was taking orders from, this felt like one mission I was likely to fail at, given I'd never done this sort of thing before. Not with someone else pounding into me, anyway.

But with Blade being more rough, I found shortly that this task probably wouldn't be as hard as I'd imagined. Whatever it was he was doing back there, he was forcing copious amounts of precum to fire onto the barrels, and I was barely even touching myself. He continued with his loud grunts, and myself moaning, until he suddenly stopped, and in a very fast, fluid motion, Blade pulled out, turned me around and shoved me up on the barrels, and with his arms hooked under my legs, quickly found my tailhole and continued with his pounding, and me with even louder groans.

When I finally opened my eyes again, paw loosely gripping my shaft, they met with Blade's, whose had a fiery glare to them. Moments later, he leaned forward and kissed me softly. His hips weren't being soft, though, and it didn't take long for his tongue to finally push its way through my teeth. I welcomed this embraced whole-heartedly, and abandoned my tigermeat so I could put my arms around him, moaning pathetically into his maw. My lower-regions were filled with such extraordinary pleasure, which was as of yet unceasing. "B-Blade," I moaned, after the kiss, holding onto him tightly. "Fu-Fuck!" Again another spurt of precum, this time striking his black-furred belly.

"You're gonna cum like a bitch," he told me with a smile, then our noses bumped. He then gave me one hard thrust, which made me yelp, and I kept my eyes tightly shut. He increased his speed, it seemed, and despite what I'd thought before, was being much more rough. That, and his lower stomach was pushing dangerously close to my balls. But I wasn't about to say anything.

Soon enough, even more squirts of precum shot out, this time up on my stomach. And, of course, I moaned like a woman. Blade was strong and unrelenting, and every moment seemed to increase the bond we were currently sharing. I had never felt closer to a fur than I did that moment, which I tried to emphasize when this time, I went in to kiss Blade. And he accepted readily.

"Okay, Luca," Blade groaned, pulling away. "I think this is it...you gonna cum for me?"

I moaned loudly, which Blade took as a yes. I wasn't sure what my real answer was, but I would try. When I put my paw on my shaft, it was quickly batted away.

"No," the skunk insisted. "I'm going to make you cum..." then cried out, groaning with every breath. I wasn't sure which of us was being noisier, though apparently the pub that night was enough to cover it up. But I kept my paws to myself - Blade's smooth, white-striped back, rather - and figured he knew what he was doing. I sure as hell didn't, though things were going extremely well so far.

All I wanted was for this moment to never end, as my bond with this skunk was so immensely strong. And somehow, I could sense he felt it, too, that we were becoming closer on level far beyond that of physical desire. Was it...love? Is this what it felt like? I had only been with Rit before this, and I couldn't remember feeling anything quite so powerful. Either way, I knew whatever this feeling was, it was fantastic. That is, until just now.

Blade cried out again and after a few more intense poundings, I felt an incredible pleasure well up in my nethers. My maw open, I gasped suddenly, and just as Blade slammed into me one last time and let out an incredible snarl, I moaned like his bitch and my muscles tensed. In that moment, just as Blade planted his musky seed deep within my body, I was overcome with such incredible, intense, and nearly intolerable pleasure, my tiger-seed exploded from my cock. I had never felt so happy before in my life.

My moans rang through my ears until I suddenly found myself lying on a bed of soft grass, panting softly and lying on my back, staring up at a darkened tent. I was sweating and trembling, and suddenly my back began to ache. "No..." I rasped painfully. "God...damn it!" I cried, slamming my bad fist down, then feeling an intense pain shoot up my arm and neck. "Fuck," I muttered, closing my eyes tightly and painfully turning back onto my side. Tears were running down my cheeks again, which was when I realized I had long ropes of fresh cum messed up in my stomach and chest fur. I ignored it, though, and continued to curse to myself. It was all just a dream; a remembrance of better days. The best days, in fact. Why...the hell was I dreaming about Blade? Why now? Why not about Kai, or Rit, or even Keefe?

I then heard a soft voice call out from behind me. "Is everything okay?" Char asked me.

I just growled.

"Was it a nightmare?"

It was far from a nightmare. The only nightmare was waking up again. My eyes were shut tight, as if trying to will myself back to that pub, and back to Blade. But it was hopeless, especially with a dragon hovering over me. I wiped my tears with my unbroken paw and sighed. Perhaps, like in the past, there was a being of some kind projecting these visions and memories into my mind. Though it was hard to imagine who. Anyone I knew who would do that wouldn't cause that sort of dream. Maybe this was still part of it, and whoever was doing this was torturing me by making me ‘wake up.' But...it was doubtful.

"You can talk to me, you know," Char insisted, sounding a lot like Keefe just then. I was almost tempted to talk, just so I could remember another nice thing. But I saved my voice and simply grunted.

"When we first met," the red dragon continued, "you were so confident and strong. You were determined to destroy the Crimson King and protect the Sacrifice with your life."

"And I did none of those!" I suddenly shouted, killing my throat. "The worst part is...I'm still alive. I have...no excuses."

"The Crimson King is far more powerful than you seem to realize, even now. The moment you entered Hel, the boy's fate was sealed. Nay...his fate was sealed the day he was born. One way or the other, Luca, the Crimson King would have his Sacrifice, and Fate, whether you believe in it or not, cannot be changed. Unexpectedly, you have been given another chance at life, and instead of wallowing on what could not have been, you should focus yourself on the situation at hand. And right now, that's recovering from wounds that probably should have killed you."

I didn't say a word in response. I didn't even grunt. Though his words weren't nearly powerful enough to make me get up and ‘start recovering,' I was forced to admit he was right. I didn't believe in Fate, and never had. And yet I couldn't seem to avoid it since meeting the boy. The Crimson King had said himself, everything leading up to that point was preordained, and that there was no avoiding it. I, of course, told him that was bullshit, but was ultimately proven wrong. Now I just sighed, a bit of whimper inadvertently escaping. I didn't know what the next step in my recovery was, but it was clear this dragon wasn't going to leave me alone until I was healthy both physically and mentally. I then closed my tired eyes once again and with Char now next to me, drifted to sleep once more.

The following few weeks were painful and monotonous, as I slowly got myself walking again. Each day was a routine of horrible exercises and even worse food. The food I was given wasn't just normal Dragon food, either. Pike had given Char a set of particular herbs and minerals and roots to feed me, which the dragon infused with the already shitty meals. I had to admit, though, after washing the wretched taste from my maw, I did feel their effects, which were fairly invigorating. After every meal, and an even worse drink, I'd have my energy back, which of course I needed for whatever workouts Char had planned, but it was more than just being alert. I'd feel stronger and lighter, and even more agile. That helped especially with my light sparring matches.

Char had a few workouts for me that I'd do every day, and some that we'd do every few days. Every morning, after a God-awful breakfast, I'd go out for a run, which would increase a small amount daily. In the first week or so, I had the option of walking - or quite often hobbling with a cane - from one end of camp from the other. Which had later become running or walking around the whole camp, then from the camp to the edge of the mountain, which was about the camp's length away. I mostly walked or hobbled for the first month or so, which Char said would be fine. But he also said he'd get me running soon. Either way, my to-the-mountain walks gradually turned into to-the-mountain-and-up-a-bit walks, and now just up-the-mountain walks. The good part about the mountain walks is I practiced a bit of climbing, too, which worked my arm and leg muscles. That, of course, was important for when I got back to swinging my sword. Quite often, though, despite it just being walking, it would prove too difficult for me and I would have to quit partway through, which didn't sit well with Char. And so if his efforts to keep me going failed, he would simply not give me my ‘treat.'

Indeed, the dragon had come up with a genius way to motivate me to the end of the trip by ‘rewarding' me, like a disobedient child. I almost felt like Valo - my Alpha; a black, Hel-born, wolf-like monster. Valo's treats were raw meat, though. Mine were...damned if I knew, but they were tasty, unlike most food here.

Anyway, after my morning workout, I'd quite often eat again, which also eased a lot of the pain and aching, then Char would take me to do my other workouts, which on the first of the few days was swimming. And like the waters in the hot springs, it was clean, safe, and monster-free. Monster-free because it was where the bulk of the Water Dragons hung out. They, of course, were adept swimmers, and many of the Hatchlings enjoyed pointing out my obvious design flaws. Like lack of fins and webbed toes, for example. Nevertheless, the young ones also enjoyed helping me out, especially when I was too far out and in pain. There were various exercises I would do in the water, which of course included swimming to particular points in the lake, usually marked by a Hatchling. If I got to them, and I needed it, they would be kind enough to swim me back to shore for rest, then another task, such as underwater swimming. This one I didn't enjoy so much, because of the few phobias I have, drowning is one of them. You'd think after all I'd been through, little would scare me. But the thing with phobias is, they're irritatingly irrational. Despite that, I managed to overcome that fear as best I could, by diving and swimming to the bottom of the lake, where I would soon join up with a Hatchling. He would then take me back to the surface, and quickly.

The following day, again after the walk in the morning, I would be taken to a curious river where Char would effectively drop objects onto me up from above, letting them flow over the edge of the waterfall. Usually logs. And what I'm expected to do is either dodge them or knock them out of the way, which in theory would help build my agility. In the beginning he would simply drop a few, then expectedly drop more and more, and they usually increased in size, too. Since the twisted trees around this area sprang up anew each and every morning, Char didn't have to worry about running out, and I didn't have to worry about losing a day. This activity would go on for several hours, and quite commonly I would be given a weapon of some kind to help knock the wood away, if I wasn't using my legs or arms. Although it was a long and steady process, I think eventually, in retrospect, I did find an improvement in myself. This, of course, was evidenced in the final day of our changing exercises; sparring.

Sparring, unlike swimming or log-dodging, changed a little bit each and every time, and not in the way that you would swim a longer distance. It wasn't predictable, and there were multitudes of techniques to practice and multitudes of ways to go about them. For instance, in the beginning I was to simply dance with the dragon. Not literally, though looking at us you wouldn't think so. Firstly, dancing with a full-grown dragon would be quite impossible even for the largest of furs, and second, contrary to how we appeared, Char had simply helped me obtain much more confident footwork and balance. And this was without a weapon. It was a matter of finding out, generally speaking, where to go and when, during a battle. Of course, all enemies are unique and many have unexpected surprises, but at the very least, I was able to regain my footing.

But after the first few weeks - my ankles took a long time to heal well enough - we did about the same thing, except I was to hold a weapon. A large stick at first, but after a while I was able to confidently go about it with steel, and after a few more weeks we started very light sparring. At first I was meant to simply dodge his slow attacks, but after a while I tried blocking, then eventually attacking back. And after only a few accidents - a few skin-cutting and bone-cracking accidents - I was feeling well enough to get more into full-on sparring. It was very light at first. In fact, when I was big enough to hold a regular sword - at age five, a regular sword was still as tall as I was - my training then was even more intense. Nevertheless, we took things slow, as clearly I had nowhere to go fast. For weeks upon weeks, our sparring became gradually more severe, though never to the point where we were nearly killing each other. I even impressed Char several times by besting him in battle, surprising him with my ferocity. Although he says that that may not always be healthy, as I tend to ignore or block out the pain, which of course indicates a problem. His biggest concern, however, was not that I tend to ignore or block out the pain, but that I was doing it now, when that's the last thing I should be doing to myself. But old habits die hard.

After sparring - and swimming and log-dodging - I again get to eat, then it's either a walk or run back to camp, or as far as I can make it, or I can go with Char to the mountain where I'd met him so long ago for specific muscle and strength building. I generally opted for the walk, but every so often I'd like to lift weights. Although I wasn't in need of more muscle mass - and I certainly wasn't the biggest tiger out there - it was, at least, a nice change of pace. And it served a purpose. At the end of my long day, though, and probably the best part of it, Char would always fly me back to camp, to the hot springs, where, until I was too tired to keep myself from drowning, I would bathe in the soothing, steamy hot water. And this same routine passed for many, many weeks, and probably even months - I couldn't keep track of time to save myself - and though I wasn't back to my old self again, I had certainly come a long way.

One morning I woke up with, as usual, tired eyes, and Char was nauseatingly bright-eyed. He came in with the usual garbage for breakfast, which I slowly ate beside him.

"What's on your mind?" he asked me.

I lowered my food. "I want to do," I rasped, "a different exercise today." Although it still hurt to talk, it was one pain Char said was good to work through. Apparently when your throat is rough and sore like that, working the muscles, or talking, often helps.

"Oh? You don't want to go for a run?"

I shook my head. "I want to do something...entirely different."

Char cocked his head curiously. "What did you have in mind?"

"I want to find my sword."

"The Lionheart? But it was nowhere to be found."

"I had it with me when the King...disappeared - I was using it as a crutch. It has to be there."

Char started at me for a moment, no doubt seeing the seriousness in my eyes. Soon enough he agreed, though he said I had to walk the entire way. I was fine with that, except I made him agree to carry me if my body began to ache too much. And he agreed again. After finishing our meals and packing some light gear, we were off to the wretched castle.

There weren't many paths in Hel, especially leading to the Scorched Planes. Our options, besides flight, was climbing the bordering mountains, or going back into that infernal forest again. Char wanted me to take the mountain route, as it was a more vigorous workout, but of course I wasn't feeling up for it. We instead compromised, and I now had to climb the mountain, then he had to fly me to the base once we reached the top. In just over an hour I reached the base of the mountain and began my ascent.

The climb was easy at first, as it was more like a big, rocky hill. But after an hour or so it started to become a bit more sheer. And thus, my rock-climbing began. Fortunately I had an extra drink this morning, and I was feeling a bit more up to it. It was warm that day, and after about fifteen minutes of climbing, I was hot and sweaty. And tired. But I wasn't in pain, which was more important. By the time I got to a flatter point, where I could rest, my legs were thoroughly exhausted, as well as my arms. Char let me rest for a moment, but not a moment too late since I was at it yet again.

Finally, three excruciating hours later, I reached the top. My pads were sore, and I probably chipped a least a few claws. My muscles were tired and I was hot, sweaty, and panting. And yet when I sat for a moment, I felt great. Breathing in Hel's mountain air, I felt alive. Figuring it was close to lunch time, Char and I ate. And after about thirty minutes, we headed off again, down the shallow valley and up the last peak. All afternoon and well into the evening was a tiring mix of intense, pawpad-killing rock climbing, and brisk, toe-stubbing hiking. And yet it all seemed worth it when we reached the final peak, just in time to watch Hel's sunset, a brilliant display of exploding nebulae and swirling star clusters, and an unbelievable array of colours. Char then easily lit a fire and we sat staring into the hypnotic blaze until my eyes became heavy. I snuggled back into Char's warm body, and together we slept.

I was sore when I woke up in the morning, but it was a healthy sore. Not a wound-reopening kind of sore. Anyway, after breakfast it slowly faded, which didn't matter for the next half-hour or so since Char flew me down the mountain. At first he flew normally, but as the ground quickly dropped, the dragon decided it'd be a good idea to scare me shitless. As we passed through a few clouds, Char suddenly let himself drop, plummeting rapidly toward the rocky earth. I dug my claws into his scaly back and clung on tight, that is until he spread his powerful wings and flew straight again, which plastered me against him. I growled deeply and scratched him, and he simply laughed. Soon we were flying over the eye-stinging, nose-burning Scorched Planes, then set down about halfway there.

"This is far enough," Char said, folding his wings. This usually meant "get off."

"But we," I coughed, "are nearly...there."

"And you haven't exercised today."

"Fuck exercise," I said.

Char shrugged, then lowered his wings a bit. "It doesn't have to be a huge workout."

"Fuck you, too." I finally got off Char's back, as the big, scaly lug wasn't going to move. And together we walked over the black, jagged rocks and terrifyingly thin bridges over lava-filled gorges, until we finally reached the King's castle. It was an eerie sight in the charred mid-afternoon sky, even more so than when I'd first arrived. Though it wasn't in ruins or anything, something about it just chilled me to the bone, even in this fire-blasted place. We slowly went in, and right away we were blown back by the horrifying stench of death.

It didn't take long until we started seeing corpses, either. Corpses of Disciples, of course, each one more decayed than the next. Their enormous bones were protruding from rancid piles of meat and flesh, and the smell was something beyond horrible. Flies and maggots, and probably dozens of other nasty things, swarmed the gigantic corpses, but some of the worst were the worm-like monsters. They didn't have any bones to preserve their structure, so many of them had simply bled and seemingly melted all over the floor, Char and I leaving our sticky pawprints behind in the mess. I had almost lost my breakfast several times from the stench alone, and it wasn't until we swung open the massive doors to the mighty throne room where I actually did. Within moments of being blasted by the hot, muggy smell, I disgorged my comparatively delicious meal all over a half-eaten skull.

"Shit," I gagged, leaning into Char. The room itself was stifling because of the broken lava flows, which I think only added to the thick, putrid air.

"Where do you want to start?" the dragon asked, covering his nostrils.

I covered my nose with my arm, though since I was still completely naked, it didn't help much. "Last I can remember, I was in the middle..." The two of us looked toward the middle, and all we saw was more of the same; huge chunks of rotting flesh and enormous bones sticking out of it. I was afraid to get close for fear of it consuming me. And yet we slowly got to work, shoving massive bones around and kicking fetid meat out of the way. It was slow going at first, and far more of a workout than I'd anticipated. At one point, I was up to my knees in Disciple Death, scooping out gore with my paws just to remove a particularly stubborn bone. It almost felt like it should have been there, for the effort, but I was left empty-pawed.

Several hours later of hard, disgusting labour, Char surprised me by giving up first. "This is hopeless," he said. "The others have scoured this place months ago, and if the sword is here, it is long gone."

"What if...one of them did find it?"

Char looked at me, puzzled.

"They may have kept it for themselves..."

"Why would any of the others want to do that?"

That I couldn't even guess. Any number of reasons, probably, but I didn't know any of the other dragons well enough to know or even guess who would want it, nor why they would want it. But it seemed clear it wasn't here. Feeling somewhat disheartened, the two of us left the miserable castle and Char flew us home, where we promptly cleaned ourselves thoroughly and ate our dinner.

Sitting next to Char with the torches out, I sighed and leaned back against him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"How long has it been," I started, "since you found me in that castle?"

"You've been slowly recovering for nearly eight months now."

Eight months? I had assumed maybe half that, tops. "Do you think...we'll ever find a way back to Midland?"

Char pondered that question for a long while. I honestly hadn't expected him to seriously consider it. But his silence was encouraging.

"Perhaps," he finally said. I sat and waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"Perhaps?" I asked.

Char nodded. "But I cannot be certain. There may be some particular dragons who wish to rebuild and activate the Transcarrier."

Suddenly I sat up, turning to Char. "Are you serious? Have...have they built it yet? Where are they?" It hurt my voice to string so many words together continuously like that, but I was anxious to know.

Char smiled. "Calm yourself, Luca. While no one truly knows what it is they do, I can tell you precisely where they dwell. They are a reclusive bunch, and care not for others. But it is a widely believed amongst the other Dragons that they, among their many projects, are working on building a Transcarrier device. Not only that, but they must also determine the correct spells to weave into the device, as well as the proper incantations when activating it. Given what we all already know about the Transcarrier, that much is fact. What we cannot know is just how far they have gotten, if anywhere at all, in carrying out those plans."

"Can you take me to them?"

The dragon hesitated, which was never a good sign. Were they really so bad?

"They are not very welcoming, not even to other Dragons, and they certainly won't take kindly to furs. Gaining access would prove to be extremely difficult."

"We're going there," I rasped assuredly, "and you're flying me."

I noticed Char open his maw to argue, but he soon shut it and nodded. "Very well," he told me, knowing full well I was going to do this. Although he looked incredibly nervous at the thought, I pushed that aside. I needed to see these dragons, and more importantly I needed to see what they were working on. And whether they liked it or not, I was getting in. With those thoughts in mind, I went to sleep, once again next to Char.

The following morning, I was stirred awake by some odd noises. Predictably, it was Char, and he was the owner of said noises. I just watched him pace around curiously, more smoke than usual pluming from his nostrils. A moment later, he exited, and I soon followed. Char was walking briskly through the camp, until he was right out of it, and still going. It was dark out yet, but I had to follow. Along the path and from tree to tree, I pursued the red dragon relentlessly, until he finally rested on a grand boulder, with a single twisted tree beside it. And there he sat, staring up at the fiery sky.

"O, mighty Hyrrokkin," he said, "will you not light my way?" Char waited as if for a response, but received none. "I have heard the call of battle," he continued, "and yet I am afraid. A Dragon lives for the fight, and yet I am hesitant. As a member of the blazing Fire Clan, and under your mighty wing...I am ashamed to admit this, and even more ashamed to feel it. Will you not grant me at least a small piece of your wisdom, and help me find my way?" Again he waited for a response, but the only one he received was from my footpaws crunching the gravel. He quickly turned to face me, and for a long moment we just stared at each other.

"Why," I started, "are you so afraid?"

Char sighed heavily, and came down from his perch. "The dragons you want to visit...they wield extremely powerful magic. Dark magic."

"They're Black Dragons...aren't they."

Char nodded. "A Black Dragon on his own is nothing I would ordinarily fear, and have met many delightful ones. Their home in the Blackened Kingdom is where a great many live, but those I spoke of, whom you wish to meet...they congregate within the rocky Badlands, directly south of the Kingdom. They were banished there by the other Dragons, as well as by their own clan. But one of the Black Clan, in particular...I hesitate to admit I am afraid of."

Although it didn't seem at all possible, I was starting to get a good idea of who this particular Black Dragon was.

"Níðhöggr..."

I knew it.

"He is the most terrible of the Black Dragons, and the most powerful of all."

"How...can he still live?"

"Through practice of his evil magic, he has prolonged his natural life indefinitely. He is a twisted deviant, and an abomination of all that Dragons stand for. He has no honour and no pride, and yet takes glory in his dreadfulness. But above all else...he is simply evil. He holds compassion for no one, and delights in slaying the helpless and weak. We will not make it far into the Badlands before he tears us from the sky and tortures us until we die - and it will take several weeks for us to die, if we are lucky."

Although Char was using his cunning use of words to weave Níðhöggr into some horrible, merciless, powerful Dragon Lord, I had my suspicions he wasn't nearly as wicked as he may have once been. I have seen prisoners in my days - during my service with Midland's army - who had been locked away in their dark, dank and disgusting cells for over half their lives, and you will never meet a more demented and pitiful soul. They are beyond mad, having lost their entire grip on reality. And yet you sense a particular sanity about them from a certain glare in their eyes, that tells you they're aware of what they've become. Although I had never met Níðhöggr, I couldn't help but pity him somewhat, locked away like a common prisoner, with only himself to talk to for as long as he planned on living. And with no natural enemies, that would be an unimaginably long time. He'd probably been there for centuries, if not longer. But I needed to see him.

Before I could speak, though, Char had already interrupted me. "I know what you're going to tell me, Luca, and I know I can't change your mind. It would be hypocritical of me to not take you there, and I will do so. But I need time to prepare myself, and perhaps you should, too. I know you don't like to meditate...but I suggest you try to connect with your gods, for these may be your final days."

I didn't have any gods, of course, but I didn't bother pointing that out. Together we walked back to camp, arriving just as the sun began to rise. Today I wouldn't be doing my workouts, least not with Char. He would no doubt spend the day in deep meditation, probably looking for guidance that wouldn't ever be there. After breakfast Char got to it, and so for a while I wandered about camp, then finally decided to go for a run. A light run, of course, since Char wasn't going to be spotting me. I ran to the edge of the mountains, but instead of climbing, I decided to instead start toward the lake. Even though I had done swimming yesterday, a strange part of me wanted to go today, too. When I arrived mid-afternoon, the Water Dragons were out and the Hatchlings greeted me warmly. Of course, they weren't really Hatchlings anymore, but that's what I called them, anyway. Besides, they keep calling me Stripe-Face, though I do still have stripes on my face. Either way, they were more than welcoming to me and my stripes, and for the afternoon we played around in the water. It wasn't my usual workout, but it was a lot more fun. The Hatchlings had a tendency to win most of the games we played, but that was okay. Later in the evening, after eating some normal food - as opposed to my "enhanced" food - I began my slow walk home. After a while my right ankle became incredibly sore, almost to the point where I could barely put any weight on it. And so I grabbed a stick and used it as a cane, which helped. Normally Char carries my cane around with him, but today I'd forgotten about it. After slowly limping back to camp, late in the evening now, I groaned and practically threw myself into one of the many hot springs, where I sat until the sun was long gone and was replaced with the fat, blue moon. The stars were out, swirling magnificently like smoke and twinkling like millions of diamonds.

Then a solemn red dragon emerged from behind me, blowing smoke over my head. "I am prepared to go on this journey with you," Char said calmly, resting his head on the rocks behind my head, holding it close to mine.

I raised a paw up out of the water and patted the side of his face, sighing with him. "How'd it go?" I asked.

Char paused before saying anything. "It went as expected."

I don't tend to take those sort of comments as particularly good things. Perhaps after all that meditation, the dragon discovered whatever gods he believed in weren't really there. That the only thing that could possibly light his way and protect him was his own fiery breath. Although I was feeling somewhat impassive about the whole thing, I also didn't want Char to have to question his beliefs because of me. The former Holy Knight Keefe was another whom I'd inadvertently caused to lose that part of him, and I didn't want there to be another. But I didn't question him any further on it.

"We'll head off tomorrow morning," he said, then slowly slipped into the pool with me. After a long, silent bath, we headed back and slept. It seemed many of our nights these past couple weeks we'd been sleeping very close together, and while I felt nothing toward the dragon, I was at least able to comfort him.

We both woke up around the same time, except this morning I found myself much closer to Char than I had been. Nothing sexual was going on, but at some point in our sleep - or maybe just my sleep - he'd put an arm around me and pulled me in close. His body was strikingly warm, and belly surprisingly soft. Looking at him you'd think it was made of stone, and yet there was I was, listening to the dragon's heartbeat.

"After breakfast we'll head out," the dragon told me.

I nodded, but was relatively immobile. How long was he going to cling on to me for? Char finally did let go, where he promptly prepared our food and we ate. After saying a quick prayer to his god, or something, we were off.

At first we started by foot, but after a while I climbed on Char's back and he worked into a steady gallop until he spread his wings and took flight. We rose quickly through the air and up toward the clouds, and when we'd reached an appropriate height, Char relaxed his muscles and let himself glide on the powerful air currents. It was sort of peaceful flying through the air, where the only noises were of the wind blowing into your ears. As part Avian, Char wasn't effected by that, but I certainly was. It was fine, though, since the dragon wasn't doing much talking anyway.

It was odd to see Hel from so high up. It looked so...normal. We couldn't see any monsters or beasts, not even any other dragons, and the vast, evil forests looked so lovely. Beautiful, even, in their horribly twisted ways. We flew for nearly two hours before Char made his descent, landing on a snowy mountaintop. The sun was shining, though, and so atop the Fire Dragon, I was able to keep warm. Warmish, anyway. He landed simply to rest his muscles, as we had many hours left to go. With his hot breath, Char carved out a small spot in the snow and ice for us to rest, myself sticking close to him. We then had a quick bite to eat and soon were off, leaping off a high cliff and getting air moments before we'd have hit the snowy ground. Sometimes I think Char enjoyed scaring me.

Anyway, the further along we went, the more gradually the earth and trees became darker and more bare. When the earth appeared black as pitch for as far as I could see, I knew we were in the Blackened Kingdom. There were forests here, but the leaves were gone and all that remained were the thousands of shrivelled, jet-black branches and trunks. It was, in its own way, quite pretty, though there wasn't much else to look at. Occasionally there would be a giant dark boulder or two, but that was about it. Weren't really many paths or roads, either, not that I expected any. Quite a while later, though, now flying below the thick, inky clouds, I saw what looked like a town below, in a grander scale than what I was used to. From so far up, it looked like a small village, though no doubt everything would be much bigger; no one else but Dragons lived in Hel who would possess the ability and brainpower to build such homes. Before I could ponder it any further, though, Char had already begun his descent.

Within moments, we landed just outside of town, and cautiously Char made his way forward. I didn't really want to visit the Black Dragons, but I kept my maw shut when I saw a few approaching. They looked deadly and battle-worn, and they all carried weapons. Neither Char nor I had any, except my cane. I simply stayed on the dragon's back, though.

"Greetings," Char started, bowing his head.

"What do you want?" the one in front demanded.

"I simply wish to rest my tired wings, and wish to trouble you for supplies."

"What business you got in our Kingdom?" the Black Dragon asked.

Neither of us spoke, until finally Char stepped forward. "We're on a journey to the Badlands."

The three dragons then began to laugh. "You serious? There's lots ‘a other ways to kill you'self. Why you wanna do it that way?"

"May we enter your town," Char then asked, "so we may discuss this more appropriately?"

The others finally calmed down and let us enter, giving us food and drink.

"M'name's Sinn, and I'm in charge ‘a this bit ‘a heaven. Started it me'self centuries ago, for those who were sick ‘a Níðhöggr's bullshit, y'know? So little fella," Sinn said, turning to me, "wha' the ‘ell're you doing in this fine land?"

"I came here," I said, "to kill the Crimson King. Used the Transcarrier."

Sinn, who had dismissed the other two, looked at me surprised. "Is ‘at a fact? Didn't fare too well, eh? Gotta hand it to ye though...yer still in one piece, an' ‘at's sayin' a lot."

I just nodded my thanks. I was somewhat surprised he wasn't more curious about how I was able to get the Transcarrier working, though it was at this point irrelevant.

"So what business you got with Níðhöggr, hm?" the Black Dragon asked me. Why wasn't he asking Char?

"What makes you assume..."

"Wha' the ‘ell else there to do in the Badlands?"

I didn't know.

"Yea', ‘xactly. Lemme tell you this now: ain't no one can get into the Badlands without his precious Sanguine Opal, and you be needin' the White Dragons for that. They live in ‘da mountains where you can find them stones, and it's doubtful they'll jus' give you one fer nuthin."

"Where is this mountain?" Char asked.

Sinn glanced up at Char, and shook his head. "'Ven if ‘a told ye, it'd do ye no good. They won't let a single soul in their lit'le mine who ‘in't one ‘a them. Bu' for wha' it's worth, they in the mountains to the west ‘a here."

"Thank you," Char nodded, then accepted the food. Sinn then wished us luck and left us with a friendly pat on the back. "That went okay," the red dragon said to me, and I agreed. Shortly after eating we walked around town a bit, and after getting a few supplies - mostly more food - we were off once more.

It didn't take long until we saw the mountain, though it wasn't until an hour's flight later we realized just how massive this mountain was. Char swooped and glided along the face of the snow-capped mountain, searching for any signs of life, of which we found none. The rock, unlike the earth below the base, was almost silvery in appearance, when there wasn't snow, and the clouds surrounding it were wispy and white. Truly a White Dragon's realm. It was curious how, as Dragons, their environments often reflected their natures. I couldn't help but wonder what changes might occur if they ever moved someplace, or if perhaps they'd simply been drawn to its splendour centuries ago. Anyway, on our third go-around, we were greeted by a few White Dragons flying above us. When we all landed, they figured we could only be around for one reason, and told us they could not grant us access to their mines. Apparently opals were the only thing to mine in this grand mountain.

But, after a bit of arguing, the White Dragons were still adamant about keeping us out, though they said we could visit their societal area all we wanted. As kind an offer as that was, it wasn't what we wanted.

"Even if we stole one," Char said to me, now back in flight, "we would never have escaped with it. Besides, we cannot look around each and every dwelling in hopes someone had carelessly left one lying about. It seems clear they're protecting them from Níðhöggr specifically, who has no doubt made many attempts at retrieving an Opal. Which of course means, without exception, no one may enter their mines."

I grunted a response, meant to say "I agree," and Char continued toward the Badlands, south-east of the White Dragon mountain. Although he hadn't explicitly said that was where we were headed, it was a reasonable assumption on my part. Char seemed oddly calm about it, though, and it was nagging at me to know why. And so I asked him.

But he didn't respond right away. "Hyrrokkin," he finally said, pausing again, "came to me in my meditation. He descended on his glorious wings of fire and told me...you would protect me."

After living in Hel for eight months now, there wasn't much that could take me aback, and yet there it was. "How..?"

"I do not know," Char admitted. "But somehow you will, that much is certain."

I wasn't big on wrecking moments, but I felt I needed to say something. "But...it wasn't real," I said. "Your vision...wasn't real. I know what you do before you meditate, and frankly, it's whatever you inhaled that told you that."

"How do you know?" Char agued. "How can you possibly tell me my beliefs and practices are but a lie when you are a godless fur?"

I didn't rightfully know. "I just...don't want you to get hurt," I admitted, "because you think I can protect you. I'm not that strong..."

"You can protect me," Char growled. "You have come a long way from that helpless tiger I dragged from the fallen demons."

I didn't say anything after that, because if I said what my instincts were telling me to say, Char would have gotten even angrier. He hated when I talked like this, and I think for a while he'd believed I'd changed my mind about myself. It would seem I hadn't. One way or the other, I still couldn't see how I was supposed to protect Char, and certainly couldn't see when or why. The dragon was big, healthy and, in battle, downright nasty. And I was just a half-broken tiger without any weapons or armour. Or clothes. But like a good cat, I kept my mouth shut. We weren't far from the Badlands, anyway.

No more than an hour passed in silence when Char decided to swoop a bit lower, breaking my wandering thoughts. He flew past an enormous grey-stone mesa, and when I looked about, much of the surrounding land was the same. Rather, rocky and barren, save the few dry bushes here and there. The rocks were dark and gloomy, which matched the thundering sky. This must've been the Badlands. Though nothing was about, I couldn't shake the feeling something was out there, watching us. And if what we'd been told was even close to true, something probably was. And yet no signs of life had made themselves known.

"There is a great canyon not far from here," Char told me, swooping lower into the abysmal gorge. "It is there we will find Níðhöggr. I am certain he will make his presence known soon."

However, Níðhöggr hadn't made his presence known. In fact, we had already swooped into the so-called great canyon and were flying above the small stream that flowed through it. My eyes were pealed for a cave or opening, as well as on lookout for any surprises. And yet the only surprise was that no one attacked. I then heard Char lightly gasp, and when I looked forward, I saw why.

At the end of the canyon was surely where we would find Níðhöggr; although there was no clear opening, there appeared to be hundreds upon hundreds of upward-pointing rock stakes, each one with the long-since rotted corpse of a Disciple. And upon closer inspection, many dead Dragons lay wasted upon the stakes, both impaled and strewn about. It looked like a mass graveyard, except they hadn't been simply dumped there; they'd fallen in battle, clearly a fight they'd had no chance of winning. A big part of me wanted to turn back right now, but we'd come too far. Of course Char didn't have a reason to turn back.

"There," the red dragon said, swooping low. "I see the entrance."

Within moments we were on the ground, standing next to the flowing stream. Apparently we had to walk through it go get in, and with no hesitation on Char's end, we continued forward. The wide mouth of the cave looked as deadly as the rest of the cliff-side, with an equal amount of Dragon and Disciple bones scattered about. I almost stepped on a few skulls, too, which were difficult to see from under the murky stream. At the end of this long, spiky tunnel were a set of stairs, and it was easy to see the water flowing from beneath them. We ascended the stairs, and with the darkness closing in quickly, I grabbed onto Char's tail with a shaky paw. He knew of this fear of mine, and though he thought it was silly - like most people - he was at least appreciative of it.

Finally the stairs ended, and when the light reached my eyes I was in awe of the immensity of this inner chamber. Massive pillars of rock seemed to hold up the stalactite-covered ceiling, and greeting us in front was a pair of colossal stone dragons, both standing on their hinds and holding a bowl or plate above their heads. Between them was another big set of stairs, leading up to what was likely a platform of some kind, with small pedestals every ten steps or so, likely torches. On either side of the stone dragons this chamber went on, but it was impossible to see where or for how long, and every part of me wanted to explore.

Suddenly we heard a booming voice from somewhere inside, telling us to come forward. And we did so obediently. Slowly Char and I made our way up the stairs, observing our surroundings. Besides the impressive dragon statues, though, there was not much to look at.

Finally we reached the top of the stairs, and as I rose up onto the platform, a big Black Dragon slowly emerged, lying on a square dais. He was staring at me, specifically, with his maw open a crack. And even as Char materialized behind me, this dragon's eyes were focused entirely on me. And all I could do was stare back.

"You've come to me," the Black Dragon spoke, as if awe-struck by my presence. "At long last, my ancient eyes have gazed upon your shining fur once more."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. "Níðhöggr?" I asked modestly.

The dragon frowned. "As always, your pronunciation is all off. But yes. Do you not remember me, my tiger-love?"

That really took me aback. Char, too. "Wha..?"

"Time has been so good to you," Níðhöggr said happily, crawling toward me. "I thought I would never lay eyes on you again."

"I...I think you've got the wrong fur," Char cut in.

Níðhöggr gave Char a wicked stare, then looked back at me. He stared for a long while, scanning every inch of my body. "You lost the armour I made for you," the dragon said, frowning. "It wasn't supposed to be removable. How...did you remove it?"

I had no idea what armour he was talking about, and though I was curious, I didn't know how I was supposed to respond to that. And so I just stared at him blankly, waiting for more.

"A spell," the dragon speculated. "It...must have been. Powerful, too. Maybe some Dragons were left behind, and removed it for you..? Indeed, but how? And why would you want it removed? It was perfection!"

"I...I don't know what you mean," I said hoarsely.

"Oh," The dragon moaned, "your voice..." Níðhöggr sounded so remorseful, reaching toward me. His paw was cold upon my cheek. "How can this be? What has happened to you, dear Baldr?"

"I...I'm sorry," I told the dragon in my broken voice, gripping his large black paw. Then as I removed it, I spoke, "I don't know Baldr, nor why you have confused us. My...name is Luca."

"Luca?" Níðhöggr growled, rearing his head. "I know no Luca! You are my love, the shining and beautiful Baldr!" The dragon then snarled and slammed his fist on the floor, which caused me to jump. However, I stood my ground. "What magic has confused you so? It was the White Dragons, wasn't it. They're always trying to hurt me, even now."

I just frowned. This dragon may have been the epitome of dark power, but now he was simply mad. I looked about for any signs of a newly-built Transcarrier, but saw nothing. It was encouraging, though, to see multiple exits.

"You! Dragon," Níðhöggr suddenly said to Char. "What are you doing in my home?"

"I...I am the one who brought Luca here."

"Luca? I know no Luca!"

I growled, taking a step forward. "We came here because you're building a Transcarrier," I said angrily.

"How dare you raise your voice with me!" Níðhöggr bellowed, raising a paw. Then just as he attacked, I leaped forward, avoiding the paw.

I got up quickly and before the dragon could attack me again, I clawed his belly, which only made him growl, but was saved when Char came down, linking paws with Níðhöggr in an attempt to push him back. Enough time for me to get out from under him. As the two struggled, I went for a rusty-looking sword close by a dragon skeleton and lifted it to the Black Dragon.

Níðhöggr cried and using some unseen attack, blew Char back, forcing him down the stairs. "Fool!" he roared. "I may have been condemned to this place, but I am far more powerful than you could possibly imagine!"

Holding the enormous sword, close in size to the Lionheart, I dashed forward, its tip hovering just above the floor. As soon as I approached Níðhöggr, I swung it upward, but was easily blocked. The dragon just held my sword like a stick and pushed me down, then threw the weapon away as I lost grip. He then spat at me and continued toward Char, who had just gotten up. Flames suddenly fired up toward him, and the Black Dragon leapt up and snarled. He then hurled his paw down toward Char as if he'd thrown something, and just as he did a series of sharp, spear-like pieces of rock flew downward.

Char narrowly dodged and as he did, he swiftly took flight, blowing fire at his enemy.

Níðhöggr, however, let the flames consume him, and he simply roared as he blew the flames away. And with one mighty flap of his wings, he shot himself toward my friend.

Char flew upward, but when he turned was tackled to the floor. The pair roared and snarled as their claws and teeth whipped about, both striking each other equally. By this point, I was running down the stairs, not entirely sure what I was supposed to do.

They continued to cry out as they tumbled around the rocky room, Char suddenly slamming a fist into Níðhöggr's nose. However Níðhöggr rebounded with a powerful chomp to Char's neck, shaking his head madly. After letting go, long, thick ropes of blood trailed from the wound to Níðhöggr's teeth, and the Black Dragon was satisfied.

Moments after watching Char's body shake and tremble, I picked up yet another sword and cried out as I attacked Níðhöggr. He turned at looked at me with a grin, but as he tried to stop me, I leapt up, swinging my old weapon downward. I managed to strike the dragon across the face, then as he held his wound I instantly went for his throat. My weapon managed to catch his collarbone instead, which managed to at least cause a satisfying amount of damage. When Níðhöggr cried out, his tail suddenly whipped toward me, which I easily blocked. I snarled wickedly and after deflecting another attack, thrust my sword upward, straight into Níðhöggr's paw. He roared loudly as the blade penetrated his palm and exited the other side, and even more when he ripped it out. The Black Dragon just snarled at me, tossing the bloody weapon aside, and for a long while we both stared each other down.

Oddly, I hadn't felt or heard a bit of laughter or giggling from my Inner Darkness since starting this fight, and when I really thought about it, hadn't heard it at all since being found half-dead under a bunch of rotten Disciples. This was truly curious. Had Nosferatu somehow found a way out of my body? Had it perhaps taken someone else? Was that even possible?

"I ought to tear you apart right now!" Níðhöggr cried, still holding his paw. He sounded as if he was also in deep lamentation, but what was holding him back?

"Bring it on," I snarled.

Níðhöggr clasped his paws into fists, and that was when I noticed he was trembling. "I gave you everything you wanted and everything you needed," the Dragon growled sorrowfully. "And when we are finally reunited..." He sounded choked up; this was getting too strange.

But when I listened to him weep, I began to pity the poor dragon. And when I began to pity the poor dragon, I began to let my guard down. And that was when Níðhöggr attacked. He snarled and dashed forward, and before I could do a thing, he had taken me in one paw and tossed me behind him, and just as I came to a rolling stop, that same paw came down on me, holding me there. The dragon snarled in my face, his spit and drool pouring onto me - as well as the blood from his paw - and I got a very good view of his deadly-looking teeth. But he didn't attack. He just stared angrily at me.

Char then suddenly emerged from behind, taking a deep breath. But without taking his eyes off me, nor his paw, Níðhöggr swung his other paw backward, which caused a large chunk of rock to slam into Char's side, knocking him down and out.

"Why?" Níðhöggr asked me, his full attention on me now. "After all these centuries, why come back to me, only to attack? I never treated you like the others... You were different."

"I..." I said, struggling. "I don't know...what you mean."

"Stop saying that!" Níðhöggr cried, crushing me a bit more. But he finally eased off. "Why, Baldr, have you turned against me? Was I so cruel to you?"

"I'm not Baldr!" I shouted, hurting me throat. "My name is Luca!"

Níðhöggr growled and gave me a hard stare. He then lowered his face to mine, closing his eyes. And for a long moment he stayed like that, until his eyes slowly opened. "You...are not my Baldr," he finally said. Though it was difficult to see in his black face, there may have been tears. "But...who are you? Why do you bear his wicked scent?"

Did he mean Nosferatu? "I don't know what you mean," I said, though I may have been figuring it out. Perhaps this Baldr was one of my ancestors. As the Crimson King had revealed to me, I was one in an extraordinarily long line of furs who bore the evil King's Darkness. This Baldr was likely one of the hundreds who had existed before me.

"Deep inside you, I sense a Darkness nearly as great as my own," Níðhöggr explained. He hadn't moved his paw yet, though. "How...has this come to be?"

After a moment I explained what the Crimson King had told me, and though neither of us could have been certain, we both thought it likely that Baldr was, in fact, an ancient relative of mine. Sorrowfully, Níðhöggr lifted his paw and placed me on his back, continuing back up the stairs. As he passed by Char, he waved the boulder away and wiped his fingers across his red-scaled body, which seemed to slowly heal him. As Char confusedly rose, Níðhöggr continued up the stairs and replaced himself on his stone dais, plopping himself down with such melancholy.

"So my Baldr is dead," the dragon concluded. "How did I not know he had taken a female to carry his seed? He seemed so...genuine."

"What...happened?" Char asked, finally reaching the top of the stairs.

Níðhöggr growled. "Why did you come to me?" he asked, ignoring Char. "Did you come to steal my secrets? Have the White Dragons sent you? They're watching me, you know."

"No one else is here," I said roughly. "We came on our own accord, seeking the Transcarrier."

"What do you know of my device?" Níðhöggr asked.

"Much more than you realize," I explained. "My friends and I...used your journals to activate the one in Midland, which sent me here."

The Black Dragon scoffed. "Why would you possibly want to come to this forsaken place?"

"I had...one mission. To kill the Crimson King."

Níðhöggr just stared at me, then began to laugh uproariously. I just frowned and waited for him to stop. "You?" he said. "You're just a stupid tiger, aren't you. A worthless fur. Especially stupid if you brought his Sacrifice here with you. Feh..! What made you think you had the power to defeat him, anyway? Only Algol had that sort of power..."

I growled deeply, thinking about my long-lost Kai. Who or what was Algol? "The Lionheart...repels evil," I explained quickly. "But apparently...not well enough."

"No, not that kind of evil," Níðhöggr grinned. "It was made to defend against my kind of evil. Which is what made it so damn difficult to bring back here."

"You have the Lionheart?" Char said, surprised.

Níðhöggr just shot him a wicked look, growling, and ignored the question. "I have been working on another Transcarrier and an incantation to go along with it. But I need a damned opal from those shit-faced White Dragons, and those fools refuse to hand it over. I should tear them all apart, one by one and piece by piece..."

"Why don't you ?" I asked him.

"I...am bound to this cave until the end of days."

"Who bound you here?"

Níðhöggr growled spitefully. "The Crimson King." After a moment, he flicked his head to Char. "You! Fire Dragon. You're going to get a Sanguine Opal for me."

"Me? Why me?"

Níðhöggr rose up and spread his wings. The ground then began to shake, and all around us deadly stone spikes blew from the floor, a few nearly hitting Char. "Because you will never see the twisted light of day again unless you do as I command," he growled deeply. "Although I am bound to this cave, my control over the dark arts is as strong as ever. You will comply!"

Char was shaking, but refused to give in. He was a strong dragon, facing death so readily. However, he no doubt knew that without him, Níðhöggr would have to wait another eternity before laying eyes upon another capable Dragon.

Finally Níðhöggr sighed, and accepted reality. He growled harshly then turned. "If you want this Transcarrier to work, I need one. So go get it."

Char then looked down at me, frowning at the Black Dragon.

I approached him slowly, looking up at him. "I'm sorry," I rasped. I felt bad for putting Char into this sort of situation, but I didn't know another way to do it. "Perhaps...you can ask the other Black Dragons for help," I suggested.

Char sighed, then nuzzled into my chest. "I will do this, Luca, because I must. Not because Níðhöggr is forcing me to."

"I know," I told him. "I owe you far more than my life for all you've done for me."

Char then nodded and despite Níðhöggr glaring at him, made his way down the long set of stairs and back out of the cave.

"Thought he'd never leave," Níðhöggr said merrily. "Time for some tea, dear Baldr?"

Tea?

"You liked tea."

I kept looking up at Níðhöggr. After all this, did he still truly think I was this Baldr? "I'm not..."

"I know you're not," the Black Dragon hissed, now standing up. He slowly headed toward an exit at the far end of this enormous chamber, one across a stone bridge, placing me on his back.

"Tell me about him," I asked, rubbing my throat as I rocked back and forth from his steady movements.

"Hm?"

"Baldr..."

Níðhöggr smiled and entered the opening in the chamber. It was so dark, I was surprised he could see anything at all. "What do you want to know?"

I shrugged. "Anything you're willing to tell."

When we finally came out on the other side, I was a little surprised to see we had entered a chamber exactly like the one we were just in, except the giant dragon statues were in a different pose; these ones looked as if they were rapt with pleasure. Odd... Níðhöggr then plunked himself down on a round dais this time, in the same position as the other one, and though it looked like hard stone, it was strikingly soft. A bed, perhaps? I was curious to know what was through the entrance at the bottom of the long staircase in this chamber. Perhaps it was an enormous kitchen...

"I found Baldr," Níðhöggr said, "in a large village someplace. They were a primitive lot, and yet he had the pungent stench of evil on him. And so I took them all, but kept my eye on the young tiger."

"Took them?" I asked curiously. I was sitting on the soft stone beside Níðhöggr now.

"As slaves, stupid tiger. You furs break so easily, but you're fantastically compliant. This one, though, this tiger...he was not."

"Why take them as slaves?"

Níðhöggr scoffed. "In our war against the other clans, I found you furs at least made brilliant distractions. That tiger, though, was something else. Did you know he not only sustained incredible damage, but managed to kill nearly half a squad of White Dragons? I had never seen anything so...wicked. I could almost feel his Dark Presence pouring out of him... It was a terrific feeling." The Black Dragon sounded so different when reminiscing about Baldr.

"After about a year," he continued, "which is a long time for you furs, he was the only slave still alive that I'd captured before then, and so I crafted for him a truly magnificent suit of armour. Algol, I called it, the Demon Armour. Within every inch of the blackened steel I'd infused my darkest magic. Algol had such amazing properties, and soon after its creation, Baldr surprised me once more."

"How?" I asked.

Níðhöggr chuckled quietly; the sort of chuckle I'd heard dozens of times inside me. "When Baldr put on the armour, his abilities increased tenfold. That Darkness which he used to slay his enemies was drawn out to its fullest potential, maximizing his dreadful might. After suiting the tiger up, and testing Algol's strength on a bunch of helpless Dragons... Well, let me just say the master-slave relationship had changed somewhat between us. He was so magnificently evil...so frighteningly powerful... I had never seen anything quite like it, especially from a fur. And you, it would seem, possess that same Darkness Baldr once had..."

Indeed I did. I just nodded at the dragon, then leaned back against him. For all his wickedness and evil, Níðhöggr clearly had a soft spot, and no doubt the years of solitude had only served to bring it out further. Although he may have been the master of darkness back in those days, and more evil than evil, it seemed now his bloodlust and thirst for power had subsided greatly. But I also had to consider what would happen if he ever managed to escape this place. There was no way of knowing how much he may have changed over the centuries, or if he was simply mellowing out until that day.

"Why didn't you take Baldr with you?" I asked Níðhöggr.

The dragon chuckled. "I didn't think I needed to. I was so...ambitious back then, you know. Dreadfully so. I had all the power in the world, and there was no Dragon alive who didn't fear me. Even Lys was afraid of me... I figured if Hel truly existed, as well as the Crimson King, then I could insert myself into his world and take command of his massive army of demons. He was a fur, after all, a tiger like you, and the Father of All Darkness. Or so they said. But I assumed, with my incredible knowledge and ability, that I could easily overwhelm the King. Of course... Well...never mind what happened. I should have...never left you behind, Baldr... I would have rather you'd died with me than alone someplace with that wretched armour."

I didn't mind Níðhöggr calling me Baldr so much by this point, as it was reasonably clear why he did it. At first glance, and having not seen him for so many years, I must have looked exactly like the tiger, and no doubt brought back many memories from centuries ago. I felt sorry for Níðhöggr, knowing just as well as he did what it felt like to lose someone you love. Several, in fact. And having been trapped in this cavern with no possible exit, knowing his love would die unaware of what had happened to him, it must have driven the old Dragon mad. The fact I was sitting on plush stone was evidence of that, discounting the fact at least two of the chambers in this place were nearly identical. Níðhöggr's paw was resting near me, and slowly I reached down and gripped it firmly. The weathered Black Dragon just smiled at me, turning his paw around so our palms - despite his being so much larger than mine - sat together.

"You have a certain purity Baldr didn't," Níðhöggr said, staring into my eyes. "I can feel your Dark Presence, and though it's sealed inside you, I can somehow sense something...brighter."

"Sealed?"

Níðhöggr grinned. "Your Fire Dragon friend didn't tell you? They inscribed a seal on your Darkness, locking it inside you. It's trapped, like me, and unlike before, it won't be released."

Although it was probably for the best, I couldn't help but feel somewhat violated. "Why would they do that?"

Níðhöggr shrugged. "They could probably smell the stench of darkness and, knowing it was abnormal, sealed it away. If you were anything like my Baldr, then you could have posed an incredible threat. And given the way you fought me...I have no doubts of that."

I recalled the many times I'd relied upon my Inner Darkness - Nosferatu - to get me through the toughest of fights, and as far as victory was concerned, I was never disappointed. But when the battle was won, another sort of darkness lingered, pulling me down. I never felt quite the same after particularly rough battles, which only worsened with time. Although I liked to think I could control Nosferatu to a certain extent, there'd been many times where it had controlled me absolutely. And yet I was always able to regain control, eventually. That must have been what Níðhöggr meant about sensing something brighter.

"I often wondered," Níðhöggr said idly, "where that sort of energy came from. By this point it's abundantly clear not all Black Dragons are evil, but gain it mostly from the magic they tend to study. Frankly, it's a lost art now; the traitors. Not one of them know how to shake the earth with but a thought, or how to suck the life straight from a living soul. But...Baldr had no knowledge of such arts, and could hardly fathom such a thing. And yet his Darkness was undeniable, and far beyond anything I'd felt before. Aye, I'd only ever felt such a presence from... No. His was far too great."

I looked up at Níðhöggr, and as we shared a long glance, he seemed to read my thoughts. Through my eyes alone, I expressed to him his theory was indeed fact. And for a while, Níðhöggr couldn't believe it. He kept scanning my gaze for traces of deceit, but found none.

"He...is of the King's rotten seed?"

I nodded.

After giving that a long thought, Níðhöggr looked and snarled at me, getting up. "Then you," he hissed, "are my enemy!"

Now on my footpaws, I simply stared at the Black Dragon, taking no defensive stance.

Níðhöggr growled some more, closing his eyes tightly. He turned away and snarled, whipping his tail into a stalagmite. Seconds later, his anger resurfaced and he came at me, striking me across the face. I snarled as I fell, feeling my blood begin to pour down my cheek. But when I tried to get up, I was suddenly pinned. Inches from my face was an angry Dragon maw, breathing horribly. "Within you pumps the blood of my enemy; my most hated foe," the Black Dragon growled. "Why should you breathe a moment longer?"

"I came into Hel," I choked, Níðhöggr's paw now around my throat, "t-to kill...the Crimson King..." I choked for a long moment longer until he finally decided to let me breathe, but still kept me pinned.

"Why?" he asked me. "You two are linked by blood. Why betray him?"

When I finally regained my breath, I took a moment before speaking again. I began to explain exactly what the Crimson King had told me, about my millennia-old origins, and how the King's first child never would have known who his father was, nor was ever given any explanation as to where his deep, malevolent feelings came from. In fact, it wasn't until after meeting Kai where I slowly began to realize that so-called Nosferatu was more than just a mere second-wind or surge of adrenaline in battle.

Of course, it hadn't ever felt like a separate consciousness before either, nor had I ever seen or felt it personified. Although I'd known it wasn't usual, I had never had any idea just how unusual - or unnatural - it was until almost a few years ago. The kind of strength I'd have after having my Inner Darkness take control was beyond anything any regular fur could ever hope to achieve. But not only that, during those times I would almost be someone else, and in later events, forced to watch an out-of-control tiger decimate his enemies, unable to stop. In fact, my whole state of mind would change, myself completely unaware it had even happened. Suddenly, after being pushed so far, my mind would seem to snap, and Nosferatu would take over. I'd find myself no longer fighting for protection, but for the joy of killing. I would delight in bathing in my enemy's blood, and laugh as their horrified screams were suddenly silenced. And yet during that time - during the horrifying bloodbaths - it would all feel so normal, and I would have no idea anything was so terribly amiss. Not until I snapped out of it, anyway, which always left me feeling drained and a just a bit more void. And the last time it'd happened - after the Crimson King took my boy - it'd certainly done a number.

"So," Níðhöggr said, finally removing his paw, "you had no idea?"

I shook my head, implying I didn't.

"But why come all this way, not even certain if you'd make it, just to try to kill him? What difference did it make to you?"

The truth was, I believed I was on that mission to protect Kai, and rid the world of Disciples while I was at it. I knew Kai was the Crimson King's sacrifice, and yet I was so blinded by my devotion, I couldn't see I was being led around completely by him. I would have done anything for my boy, and this is where it had gotten me. I was just glad Char wasn't here, or he'd get angry with me for thinking like that again. I quickly explained my passionate relationship with Kai to the Black Dragon, and Kai's connection to the King, and he quickly understood.

"And so to get your boy back again, or at least to exact revenge," Níðhöggr grinned wickedly, "you need me to Carry you back to Midland."

I nodded.

Níðhöggr smiled horribly and turned away, thinking to himself. No doubt this mission was energizing him, as he, too, longed for revenge. But bound to this cave, he had been powerless to do anything, and even more so now with the Crimson King gone. Although with the Crimson King gone... Níðhöggr then looked up, surprised by something. It was as if we'd both had the same thought at the same time. With the Crimson King gone, Níðhöggr could, without a doubt, finally leave this cavern. He then turned to me. "We need to get that opal," he told me.

I hesitated, instantly remembering Char's quest. Had he made it there by now? If so, had he gotten the opal? "How far," I said painfully, "is your Transcarrier away from being completed?"

"The machine is built," the Dragon replied excitedly. "I have infused the mechanisms with the proper magic, and have the incantation well thought out."

"Do you?" I asked, pausing.

Níðhöggr gave me a hard stare, suddenly realizing what I meant. "In fact, tiger, I did intend to release all Dragons from this twisted realm. But...your arrival changes much of what I have written."

So, it would seem Níðhöggr had a softer heart for his more ‘decent' brothers than I'd assumed. I couldn't help but smile a little. "How long would that take, to change the incantation?"

Níðhöggr scoffed. "I have already begun rewriting it, simple-minded cat. Unlike you furs, I possess the ability to store great knowledge in my head, and retain it for all my years. You begin to forget even the simplest of things when half your life is lived."

I frowned at the dragon, but couldn't rightfully argue.

"Come," Níðhöggr said, dashing past me, "we must retrieve the Sanguine Opal."

"But," I hesitated, "what about Char?"

"What about him?"

"He'll get the stone..."

Níðhöggr growled, then turned to me, tail skimming over the top few stairs. "I don't see what difference it'll make, but fine. If he does not return within the hour, I will take to the White Dragons."

If for no other reason, I wanted Níðhöggr to wait so as to not take his rage out on the White Dragons, or any other for that matter. It was no doubt pent up considerably, and he was probably itching to really stretch his wings.

"So what now?" the excited Dragon asked, pushing his face closer toward mine. He wore a curious grin, one I was certain I'd seen before. I just took a step back. "I haven't felt this good in a long time," he growled, then pushed me onto my back, onto the soft stone. I barely struggled, but waited for his next move. And when I looked down past his paw and chest and belly, I saw very clearly what that was going to be.

I growled quietly and tried to pull myself out from under his paw, but he only pushed down harder.

"Don't resist, Baldr," Níðhöggr told me with a wicked grin, "or it'll hurt even more."

"S-Stop," I said, still trying to move. But given his size, it didn't seem I had that much of a choice. His whole paw encompassed my chest, fingertips and claws digging into my shoulders and ribs. The dragon growled and shifted himself, and moments later I could feel the thick, wet warmth of his bright slithering shaft, which caused me to yelp. "Oh God," I muttered, trying a bit harder to get away.

"Stop squirming," the dragon demanded, squeezing tighter. I snarled at the dragon, to which he responded with lifting me a bit and smacking me against a rock. "You used to like this," he growled, then tossed me back onto what could only be his stone bed.

When I tried to get up, he made quick work of pinning me once more, except this time I attacked, scratching his paw. The dragon flinched, giving me just enough time to escape. But before I could make it three steps, his large paw smacked me from behind, knocking me down, and instantly his whip-like tail struck my back. I cried out, and when I turned, he was hovering above me, his bright, whitish dragonflesh much closer to me than I'd have liked. But try as I might to escape, it wasn't enough, and without a weapon, it seemed even more futile. Eventually the Black Dragon had picked me up from behind and slammed me chest-first into the grimy, rocky wall, and through some use of magic, bound my paws not to, but into the rock. I struggled desperately, but it was as if my paws and half my forearms were part of the wall now.

"You like that?" Níðhöggr growled. "I had plenty of time to experiment in here, and found this particular spell very effective.

When I thought about it, finding it not terribly odd at the time, there did appear to be some large bones and skeletons - be it dragon or otherwise - sticking out of the rock closer to the entrance. I pulled on my arms again, escape seemingly impossible. Níðhöggr growled some more, both his paws taking position just above my head. His cold breath poured down my back, and seconds later, his hot, slimy dragonmeat poked my rear. The dragon was breathing heavily, lust and desire clear in every breath.

"You want it now, don't you," Níðhöggr chuckled, pushing harder. Although I had clenched my tailhole as tight as I could, part of me was considering simply going along with this, if for no other reason than to save myself a lot of pain. My nose was bleeding again, anyway. And yet I continued to resist as best I could, giving the dragon no satisfaction, though he would likely just take it. With another firm push, feeling the powerful dragon breaking my barrier, I instantly found myself begging for Char. As Níðhöggr finally pushed in, his shaft spreading my tailhole with painful ease, I cried out for the Fire Dragon. If only they hadn't sealed my Inner Darkness, I would have broken free by now. But like the battle with the Crimson King, I was useless.

The wicked Dragon delighted in my desperate cries, only serving to fuel his virility as I was spread far beyond I had ever been, the deep, unimaginable pain sharp in my throaty cries. But as I thought of Char once more, I thought only of his anger with me when I degraded myself or gave up. I could hear his voice, full of anger, sadness and disappointment. No, I would not simply submit to this evil dragon. I couldn't depend on Nosferatu to get me out of this situation, and I had to learn to fight without it. I let out a terrible growl and pushed myself back, much to Níðhöggr's surprise, and though it only tore me up further, I was able to get my footpaws on the wall.

I pushed hard with my legs, and using the pain to feed my rage, I tried my arms once more. Growling deeply, I was encouraged to hear a few cracks in the slimy stone, and though Níðhöggr was further into my body than anyone had ever been, I continued to push back. And moments later, I was finally rewarded with one free paw, my left bursting from the wall. I heard the dragon snarl and utter a few words, but before he could stick me further into the stone, I reached my paw down and with all my strength, scratched three large gashes into his dragon-meat.

Níðhöggr howled in pain and backed away, the firm bumps and spines of his flesh scraping my insides fiercely. I snarled along with the dragon, but persisted in my attacks, digging my claws as deep into his cock as they would go, as if to hold him there, and yet he still pulled away, damaging himself further. Finally I ran my claw upward, blood squirting from his slippery shaft as it finally broke free of my body, and after a bit of a stumble forward, I turned and slashed his bloody meat once more. With the dragon distracted for just a moment, I dashed away, looking about for a weapon. I took off down the stairs, finally able to satisfy my curiosity. However, after travelling through the long, dark passage for but a moment, I quickly discovered it was not, in fact, a kitchen, but a mass graveyard of sorts.

The chamber was filled with bones, most, if not all, of which were dragon bones. Most intriguing, though, were the ones made up of several skeletons, or so it appeared, as if more than one scaly beast had been combined. Was this a product of Níðhöggr's experimental magic, or had he simply been so bored he put the bones together like this? Just then, I heard a terrible cry from the tunnel, and I frantically looked around for a sword. Thankfully someone had taken a bunch and, as if for decoration, jammed them into all the walls. I quickly grabbed one and with a bit of effort, took it from the wall, just in time for Níðhöggr to arrive. He looked more than pissed, and I feared what he'd do to me. No doubt he had all the power he could ever hope for, and I wouldn't realize what he'd done until it was too late. But when he came at me, I did nothing but what I'd always done; attacked.

Níðhöggr swung a paw to strike my side, but I was quick to swing my sword to my left, slicing a sizable gash into one of his fingers. Using the sword's momentum, I spun and slashed at Níðhöggr's knee, always a good choice in battle. Although I hit his knee, I was surprised to see I hadn't done as much damage as I'd hoped, and then was struck in the chest. I flew back into the pile of bones, but quickly recovered, rolling to my side as a big black tail came whipping down. I then snarled and held my sword in front of me, instinctively knowing it would block an attack, then pushed forward. When I did, I deflected another attack with one of my own then drove my sword forward, nearly piercing the dragon's chest. Níðhöggr, however, was quick enough to jump back and knock my weapons down, then struck my face with his tail.

I refused to give in, though, and held my weapon tight. With as much strength I could muster, my right eye feeling pretty damaged, I swung the sword upward, and though Níðhöggr dodged it easily, I did manage to grip it well enough to drive it forward again. Just as the dragon looked up, having just leapt back, he was very surprised to feel my old, rusty blade slam into his shoulder and drive him back into the wall. And as he hit the wall, my weapon finally punctured his scaly skin and dug into his left pectoral. Níðhöggr howled in pain and tried to remove the weapon, but I was adamant about keeping it there. Growling deeply, I continued to push the blade forward until it could move no further.

"Damn you...Baldr," the dragon said, blood gushing from his maw. "If only you knew how much I care for you."

"Fuck you," I spat. "I'm not Baldr, you demented bastard. Baldr's dead, and you're never going to see him again."

Níðhöggr hissed at me, then after giving me long, hard stare, gave in and started to sob.

"Jesus Christ," I said, loosening my grip on the sword. Níðhöggr fell onto all fours, apparently ignoring the sword as I let go. "You're pathetic," I rasped, taking a step back.

The large, mad Black Dragon just continued to cry like a child until he rolled onto his side, where he simply sobbed for a moment. I shook my head and when I started to walk past, his paw stopped me. "Wait," Níðhöggr said. "Don't leave me alone..."

"Go to hell," I told him, now exiting the bone room. I continued back up the stairs and into the first enormous chamber Char and I had come across, and was heading toward the entrance. I was going to wait for Char there, but was stopped close to the exiting tunnel when I heard a few loud noises coming from somewhere. Just then, Níðhöggr appeared and was strapping on some fierce-looking armour, and in one paw he held the Lionheart.

Focused and determined, a vast leap from how I'd last seen him, Níðhöggr spread his wings and jumped down from the top of the stairs, slamming the Lionheart into the stone by my footpaws. "I'm going," he told me, and at first I didn't know what he meant. But I got it soon.

"Why?"

Níðhöggr growled. "I'm tired of waiting," he said simply. "I want the opal, and I'll destroy every White Dragon I see if I have to."

"Wait," I said, stopping the dragon from leaving.

"You," Níðhöggr boomed, "cannot tell me to wait. I could crush you so easily, and it's only because you remind me of my dear Baldr that I spare you. I have nothing left in this long, miserable life worth living for, so I'm taking that damned opal. Feh... The other Dragons probably won't even know what happened."

I put my paw on the Lionheart's familiar grip, feeling its warmth and light once more. I lifted the blade slowly from the rock, then looked up at Níðhöggr. "I'm coming with you," I told him, despite all that'd happened.

"Fine," he said, lowering himself. I climbed onto his back. "But if you fall off don't expect me to save you." Just then, the Black Dragon took off through the long tunnel, and after rushing out the exit, he spread his enormous wings and with a hard flap, he shot upward. Dark, brooding clouds began to swirl as Níðhöggr rose, and I could feel and hear his excitement as he spread his wings. Clinging on for dear life, the dragon finally stopped, seeming to hover in one place. He let out an excited roar several times, accented by thunderous bolts of lightning. Moments later, he was off once more, jetting through the air faster than I'd ever gone, even with Char. Each long breath was like a relieved growl, almost wicked laugher as he rose upward into the foreboding clouds, lightning bolts striking everywhere around us, but miraculously missing; I had an ominous feeling these storm clouds were created by Níðhöggr.

After stating several times he felt so alive, the Black Dragon dove down sharply, bursting through the thick black clouds like a bolt of lightning - and for all I knew, we were a bolt of lightning - snarling as he hurtled toward the earth. I clung on tight as he levelled out, just above the ground, an enormous wake of sand and rock flying behind us. "Christ," I said, claws dug unnoticeably into Níðhöggr's back.

"Once more," Níðhöggr growled to himself as we rushed past a few gigantic rocks and shrivelled trees, "the world is mine to control, mine to manipulate, and mine to destroy."

I was beginning to think he wouldn't get the Sanguine Opal peacefully. It didn't take long until the White Dragon mountain came into view, and right away I could see its light, beautiful clouds being choked by Níðhöggr, the storm worsening. All around us black funnel clouds began to form , a few having already touched down, and of course each one had its share of lightning bursting around it. "Do you see it?" Níðhöggr snarled, most likely talking about the mountain. "This is going to be fun..."

Before I could object, the Black Dragon shot up once more, as if announcing himself, and let out a frightening roar. No more than a minute later, a few White Dragons appeared, coming straight for us. After being told to hold on tight, the dragons finally intercepted. Níðhöggr rammed one and grabbed his neck, then seconds later, a heart-stopping bolt of lightning ripped through the sky and struck the White directly, killing him instantly. His charred corpse fell like a heavy sack, then moments later, as the other two approached, from out of nowhere two spear-like stones shot up and pierced the dragons with precision, and they, too, fell. Wasting no time at all, Níðhöggr took off again, this time a whole platoon of White Dragons emerging from the mountaintop.

"Shit," I said, but Níðhöggr only laughed. He was going to tear through every one of these dragons until he got what he came for, and would probably search for the stone last. "You don't have to kill them," I shouted as best I could, though it hurt to do so.

Níðhöggr evidently ignored me and took a sharp turn and a dive, avoiding the golden spears of his enemies. The Black Dragon snarled and shot upward, mortally clawing a White, then bit through his throat for good measure. Seconds later, he turned himself to grab the end of a spear, then sent another thunderous bolt of lightning coursing through another, which arched and struck yet another nearby. I continued to hang on tightly as Níðhöggr lost himself in the fight, felling every dragon that approached him with frightening ease. He, of course, enjoyed it immensely. Just then, when we seemed to be surrounded, Níðhöggr growled deeply and suddenly let out an strange burst of wind, which pushed the dragons back. Above us the storm grew, and a funnel cloud was forming right there. Laughing maniacally, Níðhöggr flew upward and around the dropping cyclone, and as he thrust his paws downward, as if directing the lightning, he struck several White Dragons until the others backed far off.

"Give me the Opal!" Níðhöggr demanded, accented by the wicked storm behind him. But when no one complied, he growled and dove down quickly, the black cyclone following with him, sweeping the other dragons up. When the Black Dragon levelled out, he aimed toward the White Dragon mountain and flew straight for it. All around more funnel clouds were forming, brilliant streaks of lighting bursting outward. "I want that stone," Níðhöggr growled, loud enough so I could hear him.

I tried to get him to stop, but after he finally stopped, he looked down at the mountain and held out his paws, growling some more. He was uttering some incoherent words, and as even more White Dragons approached, avoiding the five, if not more, cyclones roaring around us, Níðhöggr finished up whatever he was saying and clenched his paws into fists. In that moment, out from the mountain burst long, sharp rocky ropes, each one striking a dragon with deadly precision. The others flew around frantically, trying to both attack and avoid the nasty stone. When one approached, crying out the name of his White Dragon god, Níðhöggr shocked even me by turning rapidly, and with my tight grip on the Lionheart, forced me to slice open the White's belly. I just looked up at the dragon in shock and horror as his blood and guts spilled onto my arms, until he fell. The blood was bright red, and incredibly warm as it soaked into my fur. Níðhöggr just laughed and when he turned, I dropped the messy blade.

"You son of a bitch," I muttered, clinging back on, even tighter when Níðhöggr suddenly dove downward.

He was growling madly, seeing clearly no one was bringing him his stone. "I'm going to end this," the Black Dragon told me with a slight grin, though it was certainly a wicked grin. In amongst the thunderous, bloody chaos, Níðhöggr once again began to chant. He growled each word he spoke, and though I couldn't hear the words, I felt an unbelievable chill run up my spine. He held out his paws and wove them in a very particular manner, and as his chanting grew more intense, I saw an enormous crack run up one side of the mountain, then suddenly a huge blast of rock and ice explode from the surface. Seconds later, a few more bursts of rocky ice and I could almost hear a deep rumbling. In no time at all, dozens upon dozens of White Dragons came pouring from every entrance into the mountain, many of which I hadn't seen before now.

The dragons weren't warriors, either, but mostly females, elders, and hatchlings, many of them frantically bringing eggs with them, as well. "No," I said, then slammed my fists against Níðhöggr's back. "Stop this," I cried. "They did nothing to you!"

Níðhöggr just snarled and waved his paws around some more, chanting more words, and within moments a large chunk of the mountain seemed to collapse, a huge plume of ice and snow billowing upward. The dragons flying around were more desperate than ever to attack, and as I did what I could on Níðhöggr's back, he finally had enough of me. The dragon growled and bucked back, making me lose my grip. And with another buck, I had lost it altogether, and I now found myself falling away from the evil dragon.

My descent back to Hel's surface was fortunately short-lived, as I found myself held close to the body of a red-scaled Dragon. I clung on tightly to Char as he flew us a safer distance away, easily avoiding the wicked tornadoes and terrifying lightning. Just close to the outside of the nasty storm, the nice fluffy clouds having been eaten up by Níðhöggr's storm, Char turned and we simply watched. It was then I realized Char had grabbed the Lionheart at some point, and when I turned back to the mountain, it started to collapse even more.

"God damn him," I growled, watching a mass of White Dragons running and flying to avoid certain death. After watching Níðhöggr dive down, tearing through a few White's along the way, and land somewhere in the enormous pile of icy rubble, likely to retrieve one of his damned stones, Char turned and we headed back toward the Blackened Kingdom, to the Black Dragon town.

"Even if the Transcarrier is in Níðhöggr's cave, we have no use there now. He will get his precious Sanguine Opal, and no doubt activate the Transcarrier with or without us. I can only hope he will include you in his incantations."

I could only hope so, too, though I think I was fine. Níðhöggr wasn't going to leave his Baldr behind again, and even if we didn't meet right away, I had no doubt in my mind he would eventually find me.

After a long while, the sounds of bloody battle and crashing storms far behind us, Char and I - plus an enormous flock of White Dragons - finally landed in town, the name of which neither of us had learned yet. We were promptly greeted by the leader of this town, Sinn, and explained what had happened. After a bit of cursing from the friendly Black Dragon, he invited us in, and with some amount of satisfaction told the White Dragons to sleep outside, though reluctantly granted them use of their Rookery. Char and I finally got settled in a rather barren room, which looked more like an empty cave. I was sick of caves, but I didn't complain. Char made a small fire and the two of us sat next to it, myself groaning and leaning back against him. It had been such an exhausting day.

With my eyes closed, I sighed heavily. "Have you ever heard of Algol?"

"Not beyond what Níðhöggr mentioned. Why?"

"He said it's a suit of armour he crafted himself...and I think if I want to defeat the Crimson King, I'll need to find it. But...I have no idea where to look."

Char shook his head. "You would trust a suit of armour made by that monster?"

I had to think about that for a moment. "I trust in its power," I finally said.

"But you have no idea what will happen to you if you put it on," the Fire Dragon argued.

"I don't have a choice," I growled, now holding my throat. It was starting to hurt again.

"Not even Níðhöggr was able to defeat the Crimson King," Char continued. "Will a suit of armour truly grant you the power that not even the most powerful dragon possessed?"

"I...don't know," I admitted. "But an armourless tiger with an ancient sword wasn't enough, either, and won't be again."

"He will kill you, you know," Char said with a bit of distress. "If you go with the intent of killing him, he will not spare you a second time."

"I have to go."

"Why?"

I looked up at Char. "What do you mean?"

"Why does that duty fall on you? Why not another? Why have you made it your personal mission to kill this all-powerful being?"

"Because," I started, but couldn't seem to continue.

"Is it for Kai? Or revenge?"

I then felt my heart sink. I had been so long since I last seriously thought of Kai. After all this time, how much would he have changed? Perhaps the Crimson King was able to show him a life he had never known, and has since forgotten about me. I had been thinking so long about how I was going to kill the Crimson King, I'd almost forgotten why I'd started on that journey to begin with. It was to save my boy and let him live in peace. But...he may have had peace now, living with the powerful King. It was impossible to know just how different Midland was by this point, given his return. Was it enveloped in darkness and chaos, or was its former beauty restored once more? Maybe there wasn't even anything left to return to, besides charred fields and devastated forests. The cities and towns could be in ruin, and the Crimson King long gone. Or, perhaps...

Char's tail suddenly interrupted my thoughts by brushing against me. "Well?" he asked.

All I could think to do was shake my head and sigh. By this point, I suppose I was no longer doing this for Kai. Such a hollow goal.

Char then rubbed my back. "Worry not," he said. "One way or the other, the Crimson King must die. His evil knows no bounds, and in one way or another, his true nature will come out."

The dragon seemed to suggest that despite the Crimson King's return to the mortal realm - to Midland - he could very well have taken over and served as a wise and just ruler. Perhaps he was the end of all strife, unifying Midland's surrounding countries under his dark banner with a facade of light. In the guise of unity, though, the Crimson King may very well have usurped those thrones without the people ever realizing it. Feh... He could certainly act good, if nothing else.

"We will stop him," Char said, as if he knew there was something to stop. I had to consider the fact that despite his ill will, the Crimson King may have been doing the world some good. Perhaps it wasn't even ill will at all.

"I know," I simply said, stoking the fire idly. "What do you think...will happen once he's gone?"

For a long moment, Char didn't say a word. "I do not know. Suppose his demon horde will be flushed from your world."

"No, that's not what I mean. What am I going to do, or you for that matter, when this is all over? Can I really lay down my sword? I mean...it's the only life I've ever known."

"Only you can decide that," Char said simply. Not quite as helpful as I was hoping, but he had a point.

"What if there aren't any more fights to be won?"

Char just laughed. "If you furs are anything like I've heard, there will always be a war. Maybe not right away, but it is in your nature to fight. You are savage people..."

"Like you're one to talk," I frowned. "First off, I make my living off other peoples battles, so for furs like me, it's necessary. Maybe not good, but necessary all the same. Besides which, all you dragons were at war before getting transported here. You're just as savage as us."

Char shrugged. "I never meant to suggest otherwise, though I have no admit there has been no major quarrels between any of us for centuries."

"Yeah, well maybe when the Crimson King finishes with Midland, we'll all feel the same way, too."

Char shrugged again. "Maybe so."

The only thing I could think to do now was sigh, and I did so heavily. Char snuggled closer, and all I could do was snuggle back. His paw then reached around to my belly and held on firmly, until he began to rub a bit. I smiled momentarily, then looked over at him. What was this all about, anyway? Through his red-scaled face, I think he may have even been blushing.

"Wha..?"

Char smiled warmly. "You are a very special tiger," he told me. "And not because you've been able to survive in Hel without being consumed by it."

"Consumed by it..?"

Char nodded. "When the Crimson King and his army were put here, this evil land is what turned them into the so-called Disciples. We Dragons had enough will to resist, but only you and the wretched King were the only furs to also resist." Considering where my Inner Darkness came from, that didn't come as a shock.

"I see," I replied. Char then growled quietly and reached his head around, closer to mine. He was grinning still, and probably still blushing. I then watched as his curious forked tongue slipped from his maw and licked up the side of my face. I think I was blushing now, too, and my heart began to race. "Ch-Char..."

"Forgive me," said the dragon. "I...could not resist."

"It's okay," I said, breathing heavily. "It was just kinda unexpected. You can, um..."

The dragon kept staring at me, head tilted a bit.

"You can do it again...if you want." My throat was incredibly sore, but I continued talking anyway. Seconds later, I felt that smooth, slithering tongue run up my cheek again this time starting at my neck. His tenderness was even enough to make me forget about Níðhöggr, and within moments, I was on my back beside the fire, Char on all fours and above me.

At first the warm Fire Dragon simply licked me some more, gradually working his way downward. I groaned hoarsely and writhed a little bit the further down he went, and soon his tongue had wrapped around my balls and slithered up along my sheath, lapping upward at around my bellybutton. I reached a paw up which prompted Char to move his head toward it, and I patted him gently. Eyes half-closed and wearing a dopey grin, I rubbed his muzzle a bit before he moved away, now nuzzling my balls some more. Once again, I was graced by his tongue's presence, and a cold shiver ran up my spine. It had been far too long since I was last turned on like this. I wonder what had prompted this behaviour, anyway.

"I have resisted this for a long time," Char told me. I wonder why he was telling me this now. "But I dared not distract you from your recovery. Both you and I have come a long way since finding you, but you, Luca...are an inspiration. I cherish our relationship far more than any before this."

Char did nothing to slow my heart rate. I just kept blushing more, and I think he did, too. Perhaps since our mission was basically over, for better or for worse, the dragon felt we could now relax, and since he'd apparently been resisting for so long, the temptation had finally boiled over. I wasn't exactly denying him, either. I hadn't felt anything more than a mere fondness for the dragon, but it became pleasurably clear his feelings for me had grown greatly. Although it felt physically wonderful, I had no particular desire to continue, nor did I still have any more or less feelings for the dragon. But I was kind enough to let him continue.

The dragon once again licked around my crotch, his warm, strong tongue doing things a normal fur couldn't imagine. It was unusual at first, feeling the wet muscle slither and glide around my body, but I soon became accustomed to it, and learned quickly to enjoy it. In no time at all, my spiny cock poked out of its sheath and within moments, spurted precum from Char's tongue. "I must warn you," he said, "we Fire Dragons have a tendency to blow fire on ourselves during...particular activities."

That was oddly unsettling.

"Fear not, though, for I have much greater control than some of my brothers."

Well that was a relief. Still, I trusted Char enough not to burn me to death during what I could only assume meant sex. I was also assuming that was where this was leading, as history had taught me.

"I...have never done this before, with a fur," the apparently nervous dragon pointed out. Why on earth would he be nervous? "I do not want to hurt you."

"Don't worry about me," I rasped, rubbing his face again. "We don't have to do this, anyway."

Char nodded. "I know, Luca, but...I want to. I already feel we share an intimate bond, but a large part of me would like to solidify that bond, much in the way you did with some of your friends. We may be entire different species, but some things are always the same."

After my last fight with Níðhöggr, I wasn't sure I was ready for full-on dragon-sex, though it was probably a safe bet Char would go a lot easier on me. And not try to force anything, for that matter.

"Then take me," I said, not sure where exactly that had come from.

Char growled throatily and spread his back legs, his front paws taking position on either side of my shoulders. He didn't pin me or hold me in any way, except to move me a little, and when I looked down, a smooth, brilliant purple dragon-cock was dangling before me. Nowhere near as intimidating as Níðhöggr's, I simply murred unexpectedly as the hot, dripping shaft rubbed against my leg, slowly making its way toward my tailhole. I could hear Char's breathing, each warm, growly breath blowing smoke around us. It was a sort of intoxicating scent, and it lingered. It was either that, or the ever-growing thick musk radiating from the Fire Dragon's penis. Second later, after a very guttural growl from the usually soft dragon, I felt a surprisingly hot piece of flesh press into my tender body, and though having not yet penetrated, I certainly felt his spear-like tip.

"Are you ready?" Char asked nervously.

My paws instantly attached to Char's forearms, rubbing softly. I nodded, and as soon as he pressed his hips forward, my eyes slivered. I opened my maw to gasp as after just a few or more inches I felt totally stretched, and yet not a noise sounded. I heard the dragon grunt, and a moment later, push harder. I growled deeply and clung to his arms, and with my eyes closed tight, felt a greater pain. Was this worth satisfying the dragon?

"You okay?" Char asked, leaving his intensely hot cock inside me.

When I finally took my claws out of Char's arms, I finally opened my eyes. I felt full already. "I...think so," I said, relaxing as much as I could. After a while, it didn't feel so bad, more so when Char pumped for a couple minutes, making the stretch easier. It was my idea, anyway, so I couldn't complain. And so this deep, strong thrusting continued for at least a half hour, both of us groaning, grunting and growling nearly the entire time, save the few rest periods we took. About half way in, I felt extraordinarily full and incredibly good, and we both reached the conclusion he had pushed as far into my body as he could before ripping my insides. Char held me in that position for a long while, using one paw to scoop me up and smear me against his soft underbelly, which was very, very warm. I clung to the dragon tightly, murring as he simply held me there, an estimated twelve or so inches inside me. Given his girth, it was difficult to tell.

Our room was thick with the smell of precum and smoke, and when Char finally began to pull himself out, the sensation of which sent pleasurable shivers shooting through my body, my stomach began to stir. I ignored it long enough for Char to push back in, a huge amount of pre smearing against his belly, until I groaned a bit differently.

"Is something wrong?" the dragon asked me.

"I d-don't know. I just...feel a bit queasy. I'm sure it's n-nothing." It wasn't easy to talk with Char spearing me like that.

"If you want to..." Char suddenly froze, then closed his eyes. He couldn't possibly be finished already; a cock that big, I'd have surely felt it. "I think...I feel it, too." That, apparently, didn't stop the horny dragon as he bucked me a few more times, myself snarling my appreciation. It was incredible to feel his thick, smooth shaft glide effortlessly yet very effectively through my body, touching every inch of my insides, and most notably, my prostate. Every time he moved, I moaned - or groaned - with pleasure, and despite my strange-feeling stomach, I had to admit to loving it. More so with time, though I think the thickest part of his meat had already gotten in.

"Your body is very warm," Char said with delight, apparently ignoring his queasiness as well. He bucked me several more times, to which I responded with very long, loud groans, until he snarled, I think a sign he was edging closer to orgasm. Though with all the sensations involved, it was hard to tell. I did suddenly get a good whiff of his sexual, scaly scent, though, which seemed like a fairly obvious indication. "Ooh, Luca," the dragon moaned, now unceasing with his powerful thrusts. I would have responded, except I was busy growling with such intense pleasure. Not even Rit could have done anything like this to me.

"F-fuck!" I managed, clinging tight. I had a feeling Char couldn't even feel my claws, which was good for him. With more billows of smoke filling the room, one of a few clear signs Char was breathing heavier, I felt the dragon begin pounding me faster and harder. Though he may have been a bit overzealous by this point, I wasn't about to say anything - it was certainly worth the bit of discomfort, having over half his dragonmeat inside me now. Although the painful ecstasy running throughout my body was certainly overpowering, somewhere in there I still felt that odd queasiness, which seemed to be spreading further. By this point, though, it was easy to push aside.

Just then, I felt Char's big paw gripped a bit tighter at my back, pushing my chest into his, then an incredible, intense heat against my shoulders and head. It took a moment, but I realized that in his rapture, the Red Dragon was inadvertently spitting fire, hissing as it flew from his maw. I think he was trying to apologize, and all I could think to do was scratch his scaly underbelly to let him know it was fine. I think this, more than anything, was telling me just how close he was.

Barely giving that another thought, Char suddenly let out another burst of fire and cried out, pushing very hard into my body. I groaned loudly as his spear-like shaft pushed and pushed, and seconds later, an amazingly hot feeling exploded into my bowels, and with each buck the heat grew further. Char roared and hissed and finally stopped pushing, his noise now deep, throaty growls. I think his steamy seed may have reached up into my stomach, though I wasn't sure. I did, however, feel a lot of it flowing down my rear and down my tail, then the noise of it splotching on the floor.

"L-Luca," Char moaned, holding me tight. I think he was very satisfied, and so far made no attempts at removing himself. He was breathing more controllably now, and still held onto me firmly, as if savouring this moment.

Just then, I felt a very, very odd feeling in my lower back, then my keen sense of hearing picked up a more subtle splat of smaller drops of dragon cum above the tail-mess. "Wh-what the..?"

"Hm?"

"I think...something's dripping out of my back..?"

Curious, though clearly sceptical, Char moved to the side. "Oh my," he said, and when I turned my head, I noticed from the corner of my eye the smaller pile, too, and clearly two separate paths of where they were still dripping. Char then groaned, and finally decided to pull himself out, slowly but surely. I groaned with him, though likely for different reasons, until his cock popped out, spewing an even bigger mess onto the floor - and my tail. Nevertheless, he carefully put me down to investigate, though clearly there wasn't much left to see.

It was then I began feeling more tingly all over, and very much like I wanted to throw up. Char appeared the same way. This was oddly familiar, though I hadn't felt anything moving through my body like this. "Ugh, Char..."

"I know, I feel it, too. This is not natural..."

When I opened my eyes again, the room seemed filled with a sort of glowing haze, not caused by Char's smoky breath. It was then I knew what this was. "I think...it's Níðhöggr. He's activated the Transcarrier."

Char just stared at me for a long moment, then came in close, nuzzling my chest. He growled deeply and gave me another fond lick. I held onto the dragon softly, then let out a long sigh. If this was, indeed, what was happening, then it was likely Char and I would be separated. Although that was based on nothing, it was also possible we would be Carried together, though Char's reaction suggested otherwise. As the intensity inside grew, I felt myself becoming lighter, and soon the glow around us brightened. Char and I held onto each other tightly, neither of us saying a word, until suddenly all I could see was light. Many sounds came rushing in, mixing together like flying through the air near some crashing waves, though I felt weightless.

Moments later, complete darkness and a thunderous crash, as if something was breaking and shattering all around me. Slowly I began to feel again, starting with a cold, gentle breeze brushing through my fur. I felt weight upon my back, and lots of it, and then began with the pain. It was tolerable, though, and when I finally took a breath, I smelled charred wood. I slowly tried to lift myself, finding it a bit harder than anticipated. However, I persisted long enough to hear and feel large, broken pieces of wood and possibly some stone slide off my back, and moments later, I managed to regain my composure and stand up straight. Everything was dark still, but soon my eyes adjusted, and I noticed I was standing in the middle of a ruined building. When I looked around some more, careful not to step on anything sharp - like a nail or a knife - I noticed a peculiar glow coming from under a large pile of bricks. When I hobbled over, I saw the ornate etching of a lion on a piece of shining metal; the Lionheart. I guess Char had somehow put it close enough to me, or something, so it was Carried with me, and not him. I began to dig it out carefully, and as I pulled it out of the rubble and turned, upon the broken rock I noticed a shattered mirror. Lit only by the half-moon above, I saw a frightening reflection.

Although the image staring back at me was undoubtedly me, it was somehow off. I seemed...older. Much older. My face looked beaten and weathered, and I think there was more white fur than before. My stripes, thankfully, still seemed the same, and my lip-scar of course still remained. My eyes looked heavy and tired, and had a certain emptiness to them. One thing I was glad of: Kai wasn't here to see me. He'd have been revolted at the sorry sight. With a paw, I messed up my fur a bit and poked and prodded around my face, as if waiting for it to change. I sighed heavily and stood up, kicking the shards of glass away.

Slowly I stumbled through the wreckage and onto the front pathway, dragging the Lionheart behind me. I wasn't sure where I was going, but every time I felt the wind blow, I'd look around for a dragon. Of course, I found none. Was I even in Midland? This area didn't look familiar, but the overbearing trees on either side of the road I was now on certainly was. More so the fear I began to feel when the moon hid behind the clouds. And yet it wasn't nearly as striking as it used to be, despite how quickly I was moving. I was shivering, too, since apparently Hel was an all-around warmer place than this. It was in that very moment I realized I hadn't been wearing any clothes for the past eight or so months, and if I was, in fact, in Midland, then I would need some soon. But I didn't focus on that at the moment. I simply wanted to reach some form of civilized life, instead of jumping at every noise I heard in the forest surrounding me.

After a long, frightening while, I cleared the forest and continued along still, this time passing through soft, rolling hills, illuminated by the inconsistent moon. The grinding sound of the Lionheart dragging along the dirt road behind me somehow put me at ease, and I listened to it for at least an hour before seeing a light in the distance. I strayed off the main road and made a beeline for the light, hoping it was a lantern or something. Less than an hour later, my suspicions were confirmed. I wasn't sure what sort of place this was, but it felt familiar. Or rather, it felt like the sort of place I'd been to before. As I approached the door, something slammed into it and everyone in side was in an uproar. I frowned and opened the door just as I heard another crashing, this time on the floor, but I was ignored. Apparently there was a fight going on, and judging by the stench hanging in the air, a drunken one at that. I noticed a young barmaid suddenly yelp and leap back, these two clearly having no regard for her presence. I growled and stepped in further, grabbing a drunk, dirty wolf by the scruff of his neck and pulling him up.

The wolf snarled and turned quickly to strike at me, but I simply moved my head to the right and swung my much bigger arm upward, striking him square in the jaw. Before he fell back, I grabbed his shirt and promptly tossed him out of this seedy-looking pub, snarling as his liquor-soaked body flew through the air. I turned quickly and crying out, slammed my fist straight into the other's face, knocking him out cold. They clearly didn't care who they fought. When I finally looked up, the others, all of whom looked basically the same - filthy and drunk - just stared at me, more especially the barmaid. She seemed grateful, and quickly picked up a table. After giving the rest of the people a quick, threatening glance, I took a seat. Everybody just murmured and went back to their drinks.

"So what can I get you?" the barmaid asked meekly. She was wearing a typical barmaid's outfit, despite not filling it out all that well. She was clearly quite young. She looked surprisingly clean, though, considering where she worked, and had long, amazingly nice head-fur, if not somewhat messy. It was white at the top - from the stripe on her head, starting by her nose - and travelled down past her ears, stopping right around her cheeks. The rest of her hair, which fell down past her shoulders to around her mid-back, was black like the rest of her fur.

"I don't have any money," I said hoarsely, rubbing my throat.

"Or clothes," she said with a surprisingly bright smile, her gentle paw pulling some hair out of her face. "But don'cha worry ‘bout that. Big tough guy like you doesn't hafta pay for drinks, ‘long as they're cheap."

She seemed awfully chipper. I wonder what they were fighting about, anyway. Finally I nodded, then lowered my head. I could hear the others whispering. They were talking about me, wondering who the hell I was and how the hell I got here, and where the hell I got my sword. And why the hell I was nude. But they were cautious; obviously not drunk enough to try fighting me, if they felt so inclined. Finally the skunk returned with a couple drinks, placing one in front of me and one, apparently, for herself. Just after she told some drunkard off, she placed a soft paw on my shoulder.

"You okay, hun?" she asked. "You're just staring into that table like you expect it to say something."

"I'm fine," I growled, taking a drink. I downed the whole mug of shitty ale in one go, resisting the urge to slam it down like I used to.

"You know, you remind me of my friend Cy."

"Why's that?"

"Well, for one he's a cat - a cheetah, but not as big as you - and plus he doesn't like to wear clothes, either."

I just scoffed. "It's not that...ah, forget it." I didn't feel like explaining to this girl the whole reason I was nude, anyway. "If you have any clothes I can have..."

The young skunk just stared at me with a sly grin. "You sure you want my clothes?"

I sighed.

"You're not one for jokes, huh?"

I used to be. "No," I simply said.

"So what brings you all the way out here? I thought only Count Durham's men came here to drink, and frankly, you're way too clean to be one of his."

That name wasn't familiar to me at all, not even from my Midgard days. "Who's Durham?"

Now it was her turn to scoff. "You serious?"

"Just tell me, skunk."

"First off, my name's Ashley, and if you're anything like these guys, you probably won't use it anyway. Second, you don't have to be so rude. Count Durham's sorta the one in charge around here, y'know?"

I just stared at the barmaid blankly. I never had a stomach for this nobility crap, though I did have some understanding of it. And having never heard of a Count Durham before, it was likely I had been Carried to a whole other country. Damn Black Dragon. But if that was the case, then which country was I in? Perhaps it was one I'd be familiar with, if I knew its name, and be able to find my way back to Midland.

"No," Ashley said with a frown. "You don't know." She pulled her hair from her face again, it generally covering her right eye, though strands did cover the left, too.

"Sorry," I rasped. "I'm...not really sure where I am.

"Uh...did you hit your head or something?" She then began to look around for wounds, but found none. At least, none on my head. "Hm. Well anyway, you're in Highland County, ruled, of course, by the ‘Honourable' Count Durham."

"So...this isn't Midland?"

That seemed to make the skunk laugh. "Oh my, no. All the money in world wouldn't get me to Midland. This is Essex, by the way."

"What do you mean?"

Ashley made a face suggesting my questions were either weird, or just plain stupid. I ignored them. "I mean we're in Essex. Now. As in this country..?"

I growled deeply. "That's not what I meant. Why wouldn't you go to Midland? What's happened?"

"Well, a lot, actually. That country hasn't been the same since the fall of Midgard. You...know about that, right?"

I growled again.

"Okay, okay. Sheesh... Anyway, since then, the place has become darker, and colder, and quite frankly, kinda scary. Everyone says monsters roam the land, and once lovely forests were turned into twisted, horrible gnarls. Last I heard, though, some king came along an-"

Ashley was suddenly interrupted by a flying glass, which made her scream as it nearly hit her. I stood up and growled and as another one flew, these bunch of these lowlifes crying out for more drinks, and I swung my arm to knock it away. The glass shattered on my forearm, but I was fine. When I took a step forward, Ashley held onto my arm and pulled, begging me to stop.

"Don't," she said. "Those ones are Count Durham's men. If you beat them up, Durham'll kill you personally."

"Feh," I spat. "I've been through worse."

"Ashley!" I suddenly heard. "The fuck's goin' on out here?"

"N-Nothing, sir," the young skunk said to a big, fat otter who'd appeared from somewhere behind the bar. If you can think of the filthiest, most disgusting and uneducated person to ever serve you a drink, this was probably him. His shirt was stained, torn, and I think his pants may have been soiled. The rag he held was even grosser, which I could only assume he'd use to clean glasses with, coupled with his spit. "I was about to serve more drinks, sir."

"Bullshit'cha were," cried the otter. "You fill ‘em up then get your smelly ass back here."

When I looked back down at Ashley, she sighed and looked at me, and in those eyes I saw something painfully familiar. I had seen those eyes someplace before, and I wasn't just referring to their empty hopelessness. I'd seen them before...

"Yes, sir," Ashley said submissively, and quickly filled some mugs. As she served them, they needlessly grabbed at her, groping her whenever they could and delighting in hearing her timid shrieks. Some of them, whose glasses were only half empty, poured the rest onto the floor just so they could have another, and of course forced the young skunk to clean it up, which they all enjoyed watching. I just sat there in near-silence, growling quietly to myself, fists clenched. Ashley was clearly displeased, and yet she handled it well. She didn't cry or sob, but continued until all the drinks were served and the stone floor was as clean as things could get in here. Finally, the disgusted skunk made her way toward the back with a big sigh and a hollow look on her face. She no doubt went through this often.

"Don't go back there," I told her, reaching for her sleeve.

"It's okay," Ashely sighed, pulling her arm away. Then with an eerie smile, "If I close my eyes, it's like I'm elsewhere."

"Don't go," I barked, but she quickly disappeared. I just growled quietly and watched the bar for a moment until I decided to sit back down. The crowd was noisy and enjoying their drinks, but after a while they began craving more. I wasn't about to serve them, but they seemed to be focused on me now. I just kept my head down and started on Ashley's drink, since apparently she wasn't going to finish it. I could hear noises coming from the room behind the bar, but with all the noise in here, it was hard to tell what sort of noises. It churned my stomach, though, and I felt awful for the poor girl. Whatever punishment she was receiving, it was no doubt undeserved.

Suddenly, a couple furs approached me, neither looking particularly balanced. "What're you doing in our pub?" one asked, slurring almost every word.

"What the hell's it look like?" I replied.

The hyena chuckled. "Do you...do you know who we are?" he asked me. A few others got up from their seats, and a couple more joined.

I shook my head. "Should I?"

"We're Count Durham's soldiers," he proclaimed, and the others joined in a cheer. They seemed very proud of that fact. I just took another swig.

"And..?"

"We don't like you," the hyena, probably the higher rank, growled. "We don't like strangers in Lord Durham's pub, an' we ‘specially don't like seeing ‘em naked."

"Or any men," another chimed in, sounding very unintelligent.

I quickly finished the rest of my putrid drink and slowly stood up, quite a bit taller than most of them. "Do I really look like the sort of tiger you want to fuck with?" I asked calmly, staring the hyena straight in the eye. I could tell I intimidated him, but I could also tell he was the sort who had to finish what he started, especially in front of his fellow soldiers; I was like that once. I wasn't sure what a Count would need with a platoon of soldiers - perhaps to overcompensate for some other inadequacies - but they seemed all too eager to pick a fight. Apparently the naked male form offended them.

"Y'look like the sort ‘a tiger who'd better jus' leave now..."

Although I had nothing binding me here, I felt an odd compulsion to take the young barmaid with me. But why? What was in those eyes that I craved? Not...no, it couldn't have been sexual desire. It was something else. "No," I said. "Not until you apologize to the barmaid for how you were treating her." Never in my life had I said anything more corny or more righteous, and yet I felt it necessary to say. What was my sudden attachment to her? She'd clearly been doing this for many, many years, and probably putting up with this kind of shit for even longer. Although not particularly developed physically, the young skunk showed incredible maturity.

The others were laughing uproariously at my remark, slapping each other on the back and smacking the table. I growled again.

"That's her job," the hyena spat. "No one's keepin' her here."

"'Cept for Lord Durham," another added, which caused another bout of laughter.

"Aye," the hyena confirmed. "So ain't nothin' you can do ‘bout it, so you best be off..."

I shook my head again. "I refuse."

Now the hyena growled. "You sure you wanna be pickin' a fight here, tiger?"

I gave the hyena a hard look, and after moment, he finished off his drink and went to hit me across the face with it.

I quickly blocked his arm and head-butted the soldier, growling as I forced him back. When he hit the floor like a stone, the others cried out and came toward me. The first one to replace the hyena I kicked hard in the gut, then to my left blocked another attack, punching him in the gut then elbowing his face. I continued to spin and back-handed yet another drunken soldier, stunning him long enough to knee him in the stomach then slam his head into a table. Then from behind, I threw my right elbow back, breaking another's nose and quickly punching him in the side of the face.

I was then forced to pick up a chair to block a downward-swinging sword, kicking the attacker in the stomach to knock him back, then slamming the wood chair down on his head. I grabbed his sword and narrowly blocked another attack, watching the sparks fly through the air. It was a refreshing sound, that harsh metal-on-metal grind, and I began to feel alive. I pushed the small soldier back and suddenly spun around, slicing off the paw of yet another attacker. He cried out and held his wrist as blood squirted from his wound, which made me growl in delight. Although I hadn't used a weapon so comparatively tiny in ages, it was far easier to wield indoors than the Lionheart. With my blood pumping, I spun and suddenly sliced open one fur's chest - not fatally - and knocked him out with the hilt.

Just as another came at me, I thrust my sword forward, stabbing the soldier in his right shoulder, then when I pulled the blade out, slammed his head into my knee. I turned once more, this time to block an attack. He was one of the bigger men, and so there was a bit of struggle to push the other back, small sparks flying from where our swords clashed. Just then, I saw that filthy otter appear from behind the bar again, and behind him, a very abused Ashley, who looked like she had scrambled to put on some clothes. I growled fiercely and gave a strong push, knocking the fur back, then slicing open his stomach. I turned around again, too fast to be caught off guard by these drunken louts, catching yet another blade with mine.

"What the fuck's going on out here?" the fat otter shouted angrily, reaching for something. Probably a crossbow.

I pushed the soldier back quickly, into the wall, and slammed his head back hard, then reached for his knife as he fell. With the knife unsheathed from his falling body, I snarled and swung my arm hard around, whipping the small blade toward the otter. Just as he aimed the crossbow, the knife struck him square between the eyes, and he fell with a delightful thud. I just smiled at my precision.

A frightened skunk then emerged from the bar, making sure the otter was truly dead. "Y-You killed him," she said, clearing the hair from her face. "And Count Durham's men!"

"Most of them aren't dead," I said, though it hardly comforted her.

"You have to go!" she barked.

Why was she so concerned?

"I have to clean up this mess," she continued frantically, pulling on the otter's arm. "If the Count sees this... Oh, God, he's gonna kill me. This is his pub, you know, and you just killed his cousin..."

"He had it coming."

"This isn't funny!" Ashley snapped. I think she was about to start crying.

"Come with me," I said.

The skunk dropped the otter's arm. "What?"

"You have no reason to stay. So come with me."

"But..."

I just shrugged and grabbed the Lionheart, now making my way toward the door. As expected, Ashley stopped me.

"Wait. Just...let me grab some things...then we'll go."

I nodded, with a smile, and watched as the young skunk searched each and every body lying on the floor, pulling out coin purses. I watched her curiously until it suddenly struck me I still had no clothes. The only fur here I could take from would either be the otter, or the big Doberman whose stomach I'd sliced open. Ashley then pulled up a rather sizable purse and combined them all. She looked up at me and shrugged. "Waste not, want not."

With a bit of help, the skunk helped me relieve the Doberman of his clothes - his pants, anyway, which weren't too bloodied - and despite the filth, they fit me surprisingly well. All things considered, though, they could've been dirtier. "You ready to go?" I asked.

Ashley took the Doberman's sword and strapped it to her waist, then looked around one final time. "Yup," she answered, and we were off. The moment we left the pub, Ashley looked around cautiously, and when it seemed clear to go, we took off. The skunk led me away from the main path, saying that's where Count Durham's men would come from, and together, under the moon, we walked along the cliff's edge, which I had to admit made for beautiful scenery. To our left was a long drop with a wide running river below, and almost right up on the shore was a thick forest that seemed to go on forever, at least until the far off mountains on the horizon. There weren't many trees where we were, upon the cliff, which was curious.

"This used to be a battlefield," Ashley explained, no doubt more confident we weren't going to get caught. "That was before Count Durham came along, so a long time ago."

"Tell me more about Midland," I said. She had started to tell me earlier, but got interrupted.

"Sure, but first you gotta tell me your name."

"My name?"

"Yeah. We never got to that part. I'm Ashley, and you're..?"

"Luca."

"Well," she said, clinging to my arm suddenly, "it's a pleasure, Luca. So, what do you wanna know about Midland?"

"The last time I was there, there were no rulers. Only a bunch of aristocrats trying to figure out what to do."

"Oh... Well, a lot's happened in the last year or so. Maldad tried to annex Midland, and I think they had for a while, but I heard they were stomped out by this strange new king. No one knows where he came from, just that he has a huge, indestructible army. They started building a tower or a castle or something over the ruins of Midgard, which seems kinda messed up to me."

"Who is he? Who is this king?"

"No one knows, really, but some people think he's the Crimson King incarnate. Can you believe that?" Ashley laughed. "You know, from the old stories... Anyway, those people think he's come back to start his invasion again, starting with Midland. Not a bad place to start, if you ask me..."

That didn't seem like an unlikely plan, and given most people's attitudes toward the Old Gods, they could easily be wiped out. But of course, he could be planning anything, though I couldn't imagine he'd be content with ruling a dying country.

"Midland's bordering countries have been eyeing Midland for the last few years, you know, especially Maldad. But even Essex and Portland have had their interest. Of course, with this new king, their little plans and plots have sorta been put on hold. It's too bad none of these people can work together, otherwise they might actually have a chance."

I grunted a response and we continued along slowly, mostly in silence. Since I had grown up all over Midland, and served its army for half my life, I wasn't as aware as most were of our surrounding countries, since the main focus was on Maldad to the west; the enemy. The names were somewhat familiar, but I probably couldn't get to them on my own, nor even point them out on a map. That aside, it seemed the Crimson King was back, not surprisingly, and took up residence in Midland. If he was planning to continue his campaign from all those millennia ago, like the stories say, then by this point it seemed he hadn't yet begun. Was he planning, or just biding his time? With an army of near-invincible demons, I couldn't see what plans he'd be coming up with. He would turn any battlefield into a bloodbath easily, and probably kill the opposing king himself, again with ease. All he had to do was march his troops into battle. And so if he was simply biding his time, what was he waiting for? Perhaps his castle was still being built, or perhaps he still had to round up some of his Disciples; they were fairly spread out. Either way, I had no way of knowing, and only one way to find out for sure.

"How do we get to Midland from here?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Ashley had to think about that for a moment. "Probably the fastest way would be by boat, taking it out through the Fairfax Sea, which of course is right on Fairfax."

I'd heard that name before. "The giant port-city, right?"

"Yup."

"How're we supposed to find a ship?"

"Oh, I have my ways," the skunk said suggestively, waving her hips at me. When I didn't laugh or smile, she continued. "Seriously, though, remember my friend Cy? He told me he owns a ship, and I'm sure he'll take us. Of course, Midland doesn't have any coastal cities, on account of them having no coastline. At least, no good coastline. If you wanna climb some sheer cliffs, then Cy can take you straight to Midland. Otherwise, we gotta port in Innsmouth. The place is creepy though."

These places were all new to me. The furthest I'd ever been from Midland's mainland was down south to the McCree Mansion - belonging to Keefe's father - which was just south of the foothills, over the mountains. Their mansion, in fact, overlooked a dangerously choppy bay from the top of extremely high cliffs; part of the coastline Ashley had mentioned. I had no idea where Innsmouth was, nor what country it was in. Maybe Portland, which, when I thought about it, probably bordered Midland's south-east. But maybe not. And where was Essex in all of this? Did it border Portland? None of this really mattered, anyway, since Ashley seemed to know where she was going. And if she didn't, she at least faked it real well.

"What're you thinking?" the skunk suddenly asked me, her paw wiping hair from her eye again.

I looked down at her. "Nothing," I said quietly.

"Didn't it bother you killing those men? The ones you did kill?"

I paused before answering. "No...it didn't."

"I've been with Mr. Dunbar - the otter you killed - since I was fifteen, and I've seen and experienced some pretty rotten things. But that's the first time I've ever seen a corpse. I mean, a fresh corpse, that'd died right in front of me. You're pretty brutal, y'know that?"

"Yeah...I know."

Ashley just sighed quietly, but it wasn't a particularly unhappy sigh. It was more of a tired sigh. "Where do you think we can rest?" she asked me.

I shook my head. "You tell me."

"Maybe by that group of shrubs, there...though it's awfully close to the cliff."

I didn't respond, but only stopped when we neared the large entanglement of bushes. "We'll be fine," I said, resting the Lionheart against a large rock. After gathering a bunch dead branches, the tired skunk helped in making a modest fire, and together we sat near it. So many nights like this were spent with Char, and it wasn't until I looked up at the moonlit sky where I began to miss that dragon. I sighed quietly, then looked up at Ashley. She was holding her paws out to the fire, then our eyes met. Why did they feel so familiar?

Ashley blushed slightly, then took back her paws. Her right eye was covered again with hair, and most of her left. She had a very cute smile, I had to admit. "Thank you," she said, wiping the hair from her right eye once more. Part of it fell back.

I just looked at her curiously.

"For saving me," she clarified. "I'd almost gotten used to that life, which is sorta scary."

I paused for a long moment as her hair gradually fell back into her face. Slowly I got up, and from the Lionheart's long grip, I tore a piece of the cloth and kneeled behind the skunk.

"What're you..?"

Without saying a word, I combed her hair with my claws a bit, pulling her hair back - and feeling more womanly than I'd care to admit. I could almost feel her blushing, and to ease the tension, I tried to make conversation. "So how'd you end up with those guys, anyway?"

Ashley laughed through her nose. "At the time, I'd have told you they saved me. My mother died when I was fifteen, and Count Durham took me in. I didn't realize it at the time, but my mother's death was pretty convenient for him; he was probably the one who killed her, though I was told it was suicide. Anyway, our cabin was south of that pub, sorta in the forest there with just a beaten path leading to it. Nice and out of the way. Perfect place, in fact, to build a grandiose summer home..."

I growled quietly, still fixing up the skunk's messy hair as best I could. "He killed your mother for that?"

Ashley nodded. "She had a lot of problems, so no one suspected anything more or less than suicide, but I'm certain it was him. Either way, Durham was ‘kind' enough to let me stay with him, under the condition that I served him. The other servants were nice to me, though, and helped me get through it. Then I guess one day something happened with the old barmaid, and he sent me to work with Mr. Dunbar, which of course meant I had to live there, too. It wasn't any better..."

Finally, when I'd combed the skunk's hair as best I could, I gently pulled it back once more and tied it with the torn cloth, at about neck's length, only a few shorter strands back her face. With a quick pat on her head, I got up and took my seat across from her, and I noticed she was blushing, and in the warm glow of the fire, smiled cutely once more.

"You didn't have to do that for me," Ashley said modestly. "You've done enough already..."

Together, Ashley and I sat close by the fire, the air quite cool. Neither of us said much, and with the moon continuously disappearing behind clouds, now quite low on the horizon, it would seem we were finally going to get some sleep. However, that was cut short by the faint sound of approaching furs. It sounded like they were armed, too, and I hurriedly woke Ashley.

"I think they found us," I said, which seemed to get her attention. Before I could grab hold of the Lionheart, however, I felt a very sharp and very sudden pain in my right shoulder, which caused me to snarl wickedly. When I looked up, a fur in dark armour stood aiming a crossbow, and I held the metal bolt with my paw. On either of his sides were two more men, both armour-clad, but it was clear the one in the centre was in charge. In this darkness and his garb, it was difficult to say what manner of fur he was, but he was certainly commanding. I just tore the bolt from my shoulder.

"That was a warning," the deep-voiced archer told me. "Tell me who you are, tiger."

"Ashley, get behind me." The skunk was scared, and uncertain what to do. I think she was already standing behind me, though I think she also had her paw on her sword. "Who's asking?"

"By the order of my lord, Count Durham, you are to be apprehended and killed."

I just growled. I didn't have to deal with this. But when I reached for my sword, one of the others shot at my paw, hitting the pommel instead; it may have been deliberate.

"You have been charged with the murder of four of Lord Durham's personal guard, as well as his cousin, Dunbar."

"I told you, you shouldn't have fought them," I heard whispered from behind me, but chose to ignore it.

"Come with us now, or you will face the consequences immediately."

After a long, hard stare, I quickly reached for my sword again, this time ignoring the intense pain shooting up my forearm, then charged the small group. I cried out as I swung my sword, feeling two more bolts strike my chest and one close to my stomach. Just as the men began to move, I pushed the sword down hard, slicing one screaming fur nearly in half and another mortally wounded. I felt another bolt strike my back, but I managed to swing my sword to the left, using every muscle in my body to lift the massive blade. It flew through the air forcefully, striking a third archer. I gripped the blade hard and as it peaked above my head, I took a step forward and began to pull it downward. Whoever was on the ground had less than a second to say his last words, since he was now two bloody halves. I cried out madly as a bolt sliced through my leg, nearly hitting me, and then another sunk deep into my calf. Unhindered, however, I turned and twisted my body, pulling the Lionheart along with me. I ran quickly toward my last two enemies, sword trailing behind me. I then swung it upward, catching one fur off guard. My blade struck him square in the side of his head, I think denting his helmet straight into his skull. One way or the other, he was down and out. Now for the leader.

I turned to my left, only to see a crossbow aimed straight at my face. I could do nothing but growl.

"I assumed your story was greatly exaggerated," said the dark soldier, "but it would seem you're far tougher than I gave you credit. Perhaps it was you, after all, who demolished Lord Durham's summer home."

If his summer home was where I thought it was, then it wasn't my fault. Níðhöggr was to blame. But I had a funny feeling - besides the dizziness - this fur wouldn't believe me. Just then, I noticed Ashley sneaking up behind the soldier, slowly and carefully with her sword drawn. But before she could attack, the soldier spun quickly, knocking Ashley down with his weapon, but giving me time to attack. This close to him, the Lionheart wouldn't have gained nearly enough momentum to do much damage, but I lunged forward anyway, knocking him down. That, of course, proved to be a mistake, as I suddenly found myself with a great pain in my side. I don't think it had struck anything vital, but I know most of my weight was now pushing down on a dagger. I growled and quivered until I was suddenly pushed off, lying on my back with a dagger in my right side. It had fortunately missed my gut, otherwise the pain would have been unbearable.

"I don't know where you came from," the soldier said, "but in the short time you've been here, you have caused my master considerable anguish."

Despite the pain, I had to get up. Ordinarily, my Inner Darkness would have been laughing maniacally, begging for release. And this weakened state of mine would have opened the doors in an instant. But instead my Darkness lay dormant inside me, sealed away by magic I could sparsely comprehend. And it wasn't until that point where I realized that in my entire career, military and otherwise, I hadn't ever fought a group of archers before. Then again, I hadn't ever fought without Nosferatu before, either. Finally on my footpaws, as stable as I could get, I think I impressed the soldier.

"Impressive," he said. Guess I was right. "But it's not enough to save you."

I just growled and stumbled forward, but tried to make it look more like a deliberate lunge. Much to my surprise, though, I scratched the dark soldier across the face, mostly hearing scraping metal. He just snarled and punched me back, and when he went to attack again, I gripped his forearm with both paws and went for a head butt, which ended up being an incredible mistake. I stumbled back as I groaned, and though I think I'd at least done something to the soldier, it was clear he wasn't nearly as stunned as I was. He then tore his knife from my side and incised my chest, then stabbed me in the left ribs, under my arm. I roared with pain, somehow managing to knee the soldier in the gut. Just then, from my right, a blurry figure in a dress appeared, crying out as a sword came down on the dark soldier's head, sparks and a loud clang sounding. I don't think that killed him, but he wasn't gonna be getting up any time soon. I then saw the sword drop, and a skunk in a dress appear in front of me. I stumbled back some more, and I felt the skunk pulling on me. I think I was too close to the cliff's edge. However, just as I started to feel myself drift forward, toward Ashley, the earth beneath me shook and crumbled, and suddenly I found myself clinging to the edge desperately.

I cried out, everything still very fuzzy, and try as she might, Ashley just wasn't enough to pull me from certain death. I felt myself beginning to fall, and though my claws were plenty sharp, they weren't enough to cling to jagged rock. I then hit a bush, or something, which seemed to fling or roll me away from the face of the cliff, and it was just a freefall toward the river now. Within moments, I felt a hard slam, the wind knocked straight out of me, and the world went dark. And wet. But mostly dark.

I then began to see horrifying images of death and decay in my mind, and an incredibly dark figure looming over burning cities. I heard a constant chuckling and I felt hot, my mind spinning. These images weren't going away, something seeming to hold me in place, as if forcing me to watch. I could see an evil tiger tearing people apart, looking more demonic than ever. Was that me? Was that what I look like when I fight? They were frightening imagines, particularly ones of the tiger. But what really made me scream were of my friends, Keefe, Rin, Rit...even Char. They were all dead, and of course above them stood a more-than-satisfied tiger, fur coated in their blood. What was this? Was it Nosferatu, expressing itself having been trapped inside me for so long? Did it even work like that? I cried out, hearing that terrible noise and wanting it to end, and yet that incessant laughter nearly drowned it out. I begged for this to end, but the images only became more gruesome and more terrifying.

A short while later, when I thought I could bear no more, I finally woke with a pounding headache, which seemed to null the rest of the pain. Or at least subdue it. I was breathing somewhat heavily, and a weight was pressing down on me. I had to stop waking up like this. I could faintly hear the sound of running water, and when I opened my eyes, I saw light close by. I think I was in a cave or shelter of some sort. I groaned and strained my neck to look up, seeing Ashley's head resting on my chest. I think she was lying on top of me...naked? Finally she stirred awake.

"L-Luca?" she asked.

I just groaned.

"Are you okay?"

When I looked around some more, I saw a pile of clothes, mostly female clothes, but also a pair of pants. My pants. Was Ashley...lying on me nude?

"You were shivering," the skunk explained, no doubt seeing the question in my eyes. "I wasn't sure what to do, but I thought I should keep you warm. I, um...removed our clothes, ‘cause they were soaked. Thought that'd help, too."

"How," I started, stopping because it hurt too much. I put a paw on Ashley's back and tried again. "How did you get me here?"

"Well, it wasn't easy... I dove after you, which was a big mistake fully clothed, plus I didn't know hitting the water would hurt so much. But once I got my mind focused, I got to you and managed to at least pull you to shore. Then I took your sword, which is just as heavy as you, by the way, and slipped it under you, and used it as a sled..."

Clever skunk. I just sighed and relaxed a little, letting my paw fall to my side again. Although I may have fallen asleep again, the next thing I knew, I opened my eyes to see no skunk, though I saw a small pile of bloody bolts and my wounds were tied up with some green cloth. Where'd Ashley gone to? Her clothes were still there. Just then, I saw her appear at the entrance of this shelter, just her head at first, as if checking up on me.

"Oh, I heard rustling," the skunk said, stepping in now. And I was very surprised to see this young skunk not only had a male-looking chest, but also had male-looking bits. I stared curiously at the skunk, trying to figure it out. I think I made him blush.

"You're..." I started.

"A boy?" he said cheerfully.

I nodded.

"Thank you for noticing," he said, sitting down next to me, and helping me sit up.

"So...why do you still wear those clothes?"

Ashley sighed. "Believe it or not, Luca, I enjoy dressing that way..."

I didn't have much of a choice but to believe him. I'd just assumed, once finding out he's actually a boy, he was forced to wear those clothes. But I held out a paw and rubbed his shoulder to comfort him; it was clear he wasn't always comfortable talking about it. "Well it didn't stop you from wielding a sword, so it's all good to me."

Ashley smiled that adorable smile and looked up at me, once again through his hair. I guess somewhere along the line, he'd either taken the cloth out or it'd fallen out. I was never all that good at knot-tying, so the latter was more likely. When I retrieved my paw, Ashley got up and took his clothes in his arms, and with an almost erotic brush of his big, furry tail, left our little shelter. Moments later, after taking a few deep breaths, I got up to see what he was doing.

The skunk was hanging our clothes on branches, no doubt to let them dry. As he reached up to fold a skirt over a thick bough, I got a fairly good view of his smooth, slender body. It was, without a doubt, a young man's body, and yet very delicate, too. Ashley had very fine curves, and when he turned, it was all the more accentuated by two white stripes running down his back. Plus he had a cute rear.

When he finally finished putting up the clothes, he glanced over at me, suddenly realizing I'd been staring. I suddenly realized it, too, and we both looked away.

"This is silly," Ashley said after a moment, head still turned. "It's nothing either of us haven't seen before."

"That's true," I nodded, glancing over. He was glancing at me, too. We both then sighed, and Ashley giggled. "So tell me," I asked, slowly making my way toward the river, "what were things like before living with Durham?"

Ashley followed along. "Well...things were a lot different. Count Durham was actually a nice guy, relatively speaking, even when I moved in with him. He was strict, yeah, but fair. It wasn't until...hm...maybe a few years ago where he got even worse. He was beyond strict. In fact, it was around that time I moved into his pub. But anyway, before that, I lived with my mother in our secret little home. I never really knew my father, since he was off fighting in the war."

"Essex was involved in the Century War?" I asked, taking a seat on the riverbank. Ashley sat next to me, relatively close.

"Sorta, but we didn't do much fighting. My mother told me we used to live in Midland, though, when I was just a kit, and my father was part of their army. But her and I moved away from Midgard when I was nine, because I think it was too stressful for her. Also, I think...my father may have been having an affair on her, and she couldn't handle that thought anymore."

I only knew one skunk in the Midland army, and he was relatively high-ranking, part of the Dragonkin. But there could've been many others. "What did he do in the war?" I asked nervously.

"My mother didn't really like talking about it, since it sorta made her crazy, but he was a soldier, I knew that much. But she mentioned a very tall, and very handsome white lion who he fought under. August, I think."

Suddenly my heart sunk, and without raising suspicion, I wanted to find out more. "How did she know he was having an affair?" With me.

"Because, after a battle or a campaign, he would always come back very stressed and sorta angry, generally complaining about things that went wrong or things that could've gone better. Usually he was angry at his men, though, the ones he had to work with. But of course, my mother would always help relieve that stress...if you catch my meaning. Anyway, eventually he started coming home feeling, well, good, and he rarely complained about the other soldiers. And she told me he wouldn't make love to her in the same way - I'm sure she had a better idea of what that meant - and he'd apparently smell different, or sound different, or feel different; stuff like that. He'd also not come home days later than expected, and he wouldn't spend as much time with her. Or me, for that matter. Mother was often paranoid, though, so it's sorta hard for me to say for sure what went on. Plus I was so young."

"And what do you think about him?" I asked.

Ashley shrugged and sighed. "I don't know, really. I was too young to remember him, and when I did get to see him, it would be for a very short while. The army kept him very busy, which of course put even more strain on my mother."

"You look just like him, you know," I said quietly. "Your eyes, especially... I recognized them the moment I saw you."

"You...knew my father?"

"Yeah," I said with a fond smile. "I did. I was Captain of the Brutes, and he was my second-in-command. Blade was a fine warrior. I'm sure he used to complain about me a lot."

Ashley leaned into me, holding onto my arm. "I wish I'd known him," he said. "He could have taught me so much. Mother didn't know how to hold a sword, much less wield one. Sometimes, though, I wondered if, you know...if it was my fault. I was sorta difficult to raise, especially for my mother, and maybe...he just didn't like the way I was."

I didn't know what to say to that. Up until this point, I had no idea Blade had a wife, let alone a child. He never even hinted at it. "He loved you very much," I said, trying to sound sincere. "And your mother, too."

Ashley seemed unimpressed with that. "He didn't mention us, did he."

I paused for a long while before sighing. "No," I finally admitted. "He didn't. He was a very serious fur, which I think is why he was so stressed all the time. He didn't like that I'd been made Captain of the Brutes, which tended to make things worse. On our days off, he would drink a lot at the pubs. Perhaps, um...that was the affair." Despite all my strength, I could not find it within myself to tell Ashley everything.

"I see," he finally said, lowering his head. "We moved out of Midgard shortly after my father died, ‘cause my mother couldn't take that city anymore, nor that whole country. But, um...she never told me how he died."

I paused for a moment, and when Ashley looked up at me, I sighed. "He was killed by unexpected cannon-fire during the battle to recapture Fort Bane from Maldad control. It caught us all by surprise, and we lost a lot of good men. Um...I don't expect telling you we won would be any consolation."

Ashley smiled briefly. "Not really. Though I suppose that's better than being killed in his sleep, or something. Um...thanks."

We sat for a long while soaking our footpaws in the rushing water, which was calmer toward the edge. Neither of us said much, and as the water lapped up around my calves, I was reminded of the Water Dragon lake, and the excited hatchlings who enjoyed pointing out my aquatic flaws. I began to wonder where all the Dragons had been Carried to, or if I'd see any along my travels. It was hard to believe Níðhöggr would only Carry himself and me back to this world, though I wouldn't put anything past the monster. Which, oddly enough, reminded me of Algol, the suit of armour he'd crafted ages ago, and wondered where it could possibly be. Maybe Tiberius had it, or knew where to look. I'd have to remember to see him when we got back to Midland.

"Can I ask you something?" Ashley began. I started to get nervous again. I hope it wasn't about Blade. "Why were you naked? And how come you didn't know where you were? And how about that sword? Why're you carrying that thing around?"

I shook my head quietly. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Oh yeah?" the skunk said, turning to me. He looked focused. "Try me."

I just sighed heavily, and for a while, didn't say a word, but instead watched the water flow by. Finally I decided there wasn't any harm in telling him, and at the very least, he'd enjoy an interesting story. I started off explaining what really happened in Midgard, and how I got tied into everything, neglecting a few intimate details on my relationship with Kai. I then went into detail about the Dragons and Níðhöggr's Seven Black Books, plus Tiberius and how I got the Lionheart, as well as how I got into Hel, further explaining my brutal defeat by the Crimson King. Ashley was just staring at me as I explained this, making it difficult to discern whether or not he believed any of it. He'd already implied he thought the Crimson King wasn't real, but he so far showed no sign of doubt. I then told him about my long, painful recovery with the Fire Dragon Char, which helped explain why I wasn't wearing any clothes, and then I told him how I met Níðhöggr and came back from Hel, explaining my disorientation.

"Uh huh..." is all Ashley said, looking as if he was really concentrating on what I'd said. "You know," he started, poking my arm, "if you didn't want to tell me, you coulda just said so."

I just frowned, then splashed water up on Ashley, which made him yelp. But before he could get me back, I'd already jumped up and dashed away, soon regretting it when I felt my rib-wound reopen. I growled and held the spot, which was poorly bandaged, and as expected, the young skunk rushed over.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I growled. "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding again!" Ashley exclaimed, suddenly noticing the wound.

"Don't worry about it."

"C'mon, you gotta sit down."

I just rested back against a tree and took long, deep breaths. "I'll be fine."

"Luca..." Ashley begged, and I think seeing Blade in his eyes, I felt compelled obey.

"Fine," I said, taking a seat on a rock close to the river. I then lifted my arm to let the skunk bandage the wound up yet again, feeling no different. "Satisfied?"

Ashley frowned. "Not really, but I guess that'll do."

I frowned with him, then glanced over at our clothes, as if I'd be able to see whether or not they're dry. I couldn't tell, but I figured since Ashley was in no hurry to clothe himself, they were still damp. The two of us eventually found ourselves by the river once more, sitting in the same spots we had before, both of us leaning back on our paws. I sighed quietly, more taking in a breath of the cool, fresh air than anything. I then turned to the skunk.

"Have you ever heard of Algol?" I asked him.

Ashley shook his head, pulling the hair away from his right eye to look at me. "What is it?"

"Well...now take it for what it's worth, but it's a suit of armour crafted by Níðhöggr hundreds and hundreds of years ago, for a tiger much like me."

"Uh huh. What's so special about this armour?"

"Um. Well nothing, really," I lied, "but I want to find it. Thought you may have heard of it."

"Have you tried a collector?"

"No," I frowned, knowing damn well why I hadn't done that. Of course, it was useless to argue if Ashley didn't believe a word of my story. "I know a friend who may have an idea. A Midland Lord named Tiberius."

"As in...Tiberius Iollan McCree the Third?"

"Uh...yeah. You know him?"

"Yeah," Ashley laughed. "He came by Count Durham's castle maybe five years ago - when I was still living there, anyway - looking for some ancient helmet of some kind. Dunno why he thought Lord Durham would have it, but the two didn't get along. Probably because they were so different. Lord Durham was very stiff, strict, and proper, and Lord McCree was, well, the complete opposite. He wore expensive clothes like Durham, ‘cept he'd wear them looser like he'd just rushed out of bed, and he swore a lot, too, which was improper. The funniest thing was when I was serving dinner, Lord McCree belched right in front of Count Durham and a few other Essex Lords, without even excusing himself. He was the only one laughing, though, only ‘cause I had to restrain myself."

I couldn't help but smile. I'd expect no less from the canine.

"I wish he'd taken me in," Ashley smiled. "I never laughed so hard as when he was around."

"Did he ever get the helmet?"

"Nah, I don't think so. Not from us, anyway. But he stole one from a guard just to make his trip worthwhile."

I made a noise that may have resembled a laugh, but it was quiet. I just sighed through my nose, wondering what had happened to Tiberius, as well as Keefe and Rin. Last I saw, they were being overrun by a horde of Disciples, and one resembling Demon Rit had joined in, though it was hard to tell, plus he could very well have been against them. Either way, victory seemed slim, and chances were very good they were all dead. And yet, having not seen their corpses myself, I had this strange glimmer of hope inside me. I didn't get that feeling very often, especially nowadays. Just then, I felt Ashley inch closer to me, putting a paw up onto my stomach, rubbing his fingers through my fur softly. I looked over at him.

"I wanna thank you," he said, "for, y'know...saving me. If it wasn't for you, I'd probably still be working for Mr. Dunbar, and he'd probably be, um...doing things...to me. Anyway, I'm forever grateful to you, Luca, and no matter what, I'm never gonna let any harm come to you. I promise you that."

I continued to stare at the young skunk for a very long moment before he rolled over a bit and gave me a big hug. "Th-This isn't necessary," I told him. "Those men were asking for trouble, and I gave it to them."

"But most men would have turned away, or left, especially knowing whose pub that was. But not you. You're much too brave for that."

Finally Ashley let go of me, plopping himself down beside me, though left his paw on my belly. "If there's anything you want," he said, "anything at all...just let me know."

"Thank you..."

"I've been told I give good, uh..." the skunk blushed, his eyes darting down toward my sheath and balls. "Probably the only nice thing Mr. Dunbar's said to me, though the circumstances weren't all that nice."

I sighed and held Ashley's paw. "I appreciate the gesture, I truly do, but you don't have to do that for me."

The skunk almost looked disappointed, but he soon smiled. I think he was blushing more, too. "Then...how about a kiss?"

I smiled, and seconds later the young skunk leaned forward and gave me a cute kiss on the side of the muzzle, then giggled. Once again, the two of us sat in silence, until Ashley finally decided to get up and see if our clothes were dry, and for no particular reason, I followed.

"They seem okay," he said, feeling his white, shoulderless top, then handed me my pants. I slipped into the cold, dampish garments , then turned to watch Ashley slip into his. It wasn't an astonishing sight, or anything, but it was interesting to see just how quickly and how easily he did up his clothes, no doubt from the years and years of practice. After gathering our few things, Ashley and I were off once again.

Every so often, going along the riverside, we would encounter a rather large root, or a similar obstacle, which Ashley seemed to enjoy helping me around, over, or under, despite my adept ability to help myself. Perhaps he felt it was partially his fault for causing my injuries, or perhaps he felt so indebted to me, he wanted to help in any way he could. Either way, this continued for a long while, but as I constantly saw Blade in both his eyes and his subtle actions and mannerisms, it was difficult to get angry. Although Blade and I had often fought - sometimes physically - ever since the night he'd taken my virginity, we'd gotten long quite well, relatively speaking. We'd still argue, but the end results would be much...different.

Regardless of how much we fought, I found tolerating Ashley, above anyone else I'd ever met, surprisingly easy. Which was likely due, in part, to Blade's death, or rather, how much his death really made me miss him. Ask anyone who remembers, they'll say the Brutes were ambushed and surprised by heavy cannon-fire, and I suppose that's what'd happened. But I'd always blamed myself for Blade's death, and for a long time could not forgive myself. It was a pain that did eventually fade, but hidden in my subconscious the guilt remained. I never blamed myself because I was Captain of the Brutes, though, but because I had led my men straight into a trap. On purpose, too, having ignored the advice from a captured Maldad soldier. He'd been coerced, despite my objections, into giving us that information, which completely contradicted our battle plans. But I was arrogant in those days, my attitude hardly humbled by my second-in-command - especially on the battlefield. Not wanting to admit my plans had been rendered useless, I'd gone with them anyway, and like clockwork, our frontlines were blown away by cannon-fire. Both Blade and I were in the frontlines, and though I'd tried to get close enough to protect him, it was already too late. The horror-struck look on his face moments before his lower half had been blown apart was burned into my mind, even now... I'd held the skunk in my arms for longer than I should have, and when he was thoroughly gone, I, like so many times before, lost it.

Instantly, I was stricken with grief and rage, angry mostly at myself. Nevertheless, it was more than enough to bring Nosferatu out onto the battlefield, which of course helped win the battle. Although it'd been a great victory for the Midland Army, High Commander August was far from pleased. The Brutes disbanded, and while my men joined the rest of the Dragonkin, I'd been discharged from Midland's Army altogether, forced back into Mercenary work. Although the pain of my loss did fade away, the guilt had never left the back of my mind, however buried. But...seeing so much of Blade in Ashley brought a particular happiness to whatever was left of my soul, and it made me smile.

"You okay?" Ashely suddenly stopped and asked me. Despite wearing a two-layer skirt, he was quite nimble tearing through these woods. "You're moving kinda slow..."

"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine. I was just thinking of something."

"What were you thinking about?" the skunk asked, holding my arm as I stepped over a large root.

"Just...the past."

"Oh. What about the past?"

Curious bugger. "Your father," I said, finally getting over the root.

"Oh?"

"I miss him very much," I admitted. "Him and I were very close in the Brutes, but during the battle at Fort Bane, I just... I wasn't able to protect him, and seeing him in you...it brings back both fond and painful memories." I couldn't bring myself to reveal much more than that.

Ashley then turned and gave me a big hug, wrapping his arms around my waist. I just looked down at him, not quite hugging back, no doubt with a sort of dumbfounded look on my face. What was this all about?

"There's no reason to be sad," Ashley said, giving me a squeeze. "At least you knew my father. You knew what he was like, and you have wonderful memories of him. I'd only met him a pawful of times in my life before he died, so I don't even have that. The closest thing I ever had to a father was Count Durham, and I don't have any fond memories of him. You're lucky, Luca, to have been able to know him as well as you did."

I thought about that for a while, and finally put my arms around Ashley. Although I had to live with the shame and guilt of that day, some of my fondest memories of my Army days were with Blade, and considering he was my first, it was certainly something to cherish. Which of course was that much easier with Ashley. He even sounded like his father, save the gruff voice.

"So how long will it take to get to Fairfax?" I asked, changing the subject. We finally released each other, our paws connected for just a moment before we continued along.

"Beats me," Ashley shrugged. "I've never been. Especially not by foot."

"Are there any towns along the way?"

"Yeah, I think there's a few small ones here and there. Little settlements, y'know? Probably a buncha farmers and so forth. Why?"

"Because unless you stole food from those men, we're going to need to eat eventually."

Ashley then stopped and felt his belly. "You know, I didn't notice anything until you mentioned it."

I smiled. "How're we supposed to get out of here, anyway?"

"The Valley? I dunno. There'll probably be a gradual hill at some point. There'd have to be."

This time I frowned. "I thought you knew your way around this place."

"Count Durham didn't exactly give me a lot of leisure time, and at home, most my time was spent looking after my mother. Only place I'd ever really travelled to was Marr, a farming town where I'd get food for us once a week. Didn't really have time to go any further than that. Besides, it's not like I can go everywhere. I've never been to the Valley before. I hear monsters come out at night, though, and it's like a totally different place."

Given what I'd seen, I didn't doubt it. "What kind of monsters?" I asked hoarsely, resisting the urge to continuously rub my throat. That never helped, anyway.

"I dunno. Scary ones, I guess. I heard Lord Durham's men talking about it, though I think they were just trying to frighten me. Plus they were drunk. I, um...I sometimes get scared easily, which they enjoyed exploiting... But anyway, they said something about big black wolf-like creatures, ‘cept they run around on all fours, and they're really vicious. Plus they said there's these great big flying monsters of some kind, and swoop down with a horrible cry and scoop people up, taking them away to their lair to eat them. It sounds pretty crazy to me, but still...can't help but wonder."

"You don't need to worry about anything like that," I told the young skunk, though it was probably a lie. I had no idea just how far the Crimson King's reach extended, even before he'd arrived. Monsters and Disciples roamed Midland, but it hadn't occurred to me that they may have gone even farther than Midland's borders.

"Why? Because once they finish up with you, I'll be quick work?"

"Uh...no. Because I won't let them come close to you."

"Hey, I'm supposed to be protecting you. Remember how I knocked out Captain Raile? He was gonna kill you, you know."

The skunk had a point, even though sneaking up behind a distracted guard was far different than fighting a pack of Alphas, or even just one. Which of course reminded me of Valo, the last of a small pack of Alphas whose leader, Fenrir, I'd killed, which made them loyal to me. They'd all been killed by a Demon Rit, save one who'd only lost a hind leg. I called him Valo, and he was with Keefe, Rin, and Tiberius before I was sent to Hel. I wondered if he'd managed to survive, even if the others didn't. I guess it didn't matter much, since chances were good - though admittedly, not totally out of the question - I wouldn't see any of them again.

But with no signs of monsters so far, our trip through the Valley was long, more arduous than I cared to admit, and tiring. It wasn't anything I wasn't used to, but for just over eight months, I didn't have to lug around the Lionheart either. Besides which, I had Char to do most of my heavy lifting, since the sword I was given was made for Dragons anyway. It was selfish reasons like this which made me miss Char more so. I just let out a sigh and looked up at the sky, between trees, kind of missing the colourful and dynamic skies of Hel. It was then, of course, I realized just how dark it'd gotten, the sun no doubt hovering just above the horizon. And yet Ashley was still going on like he'd just started, constantly looking back at me to make sure I was okay. And I was, mostly, despite the multiple holes in my body that were slowly healing. After a bit more of a hike, finding it increasingly more difficult to see where I was going, the skunk and I both decided it was time to rest for the night.

"This should be good," Ashley said, finding an enormous tree with enormous roots, which made a perfect shelter. He seemed so motherly - or what I assumed mothers were like - when patting down leaves or brushing away dirt, as if tidying up. "You can sleep here," he said, "and I'll just sleep right there," pointing at a small alcove formed by smaller roots.

A chill wind blew through our makeshift shelter, and after placing the Lionheart aside, I huddled in my little corner. When I looked up at Ashley, he'd already taken off his outer skirt - the blue one - then I delighted in watching him remove the torn green one, his big fluffy tail springing up and revealing a very cute bum. He then removed his purple bodice, which took a while because he'd tied it tight. But when all was said and done, the skunk shyly made his way under the gigantic tree wearing only his loose, white top, his shoulders of course bare. I just kept my arms crossed, sitting against a wall of dirty roots pretending like I didn't notice the half-naked skunk.

"It's a bit chilly," he said modestly, taking a seat close to me. He sat cross-legged, clearly not ready for sleep. He wasn't even in his little alcove.

"Mhmm," I commented, closing my eyes. Just then, I felt two gentle paws slowly begin to wrap around my left arm, as if caressing my biceps. But when I felt Ashley's body snuggle up to mine and his head rest against my shoulder, paws with a firm grip on my arm, I knew it was a bit more than simple groping. With my maw open a bit, I opened one eye and observed the skunk, whose eyes were closed and he simply rested with me, the sound of a quiet murr barely audible over the crickets and rushing water nearby. I let both my arms rest, and after placing a paw onto Ashley's, together we slept.

My eyes then suddenly shot open, Ashley still in his place resting peacefully, and myself with an odd feeling. It wasn't quite the chuckle of Nosferatu, but I felt a peculiar chill, not caused by the cool air. I whispered to Ashley, but he hardly stirred. After scratching the back of my neck, where Nosferatu's seal was inscribed into me, I slowly got up, being sure not to wake Ashley. I took a step from our little shelter, and when I put my paw on the Lionheart, looked at the sleeping skunk. He looked so peaceful and happy, but why I was feeling such dread? What was coming..? Seconds later, my head snapped to the left, to the sound of a breaking twig, then to the right, hearing another. Something was out there, and it didn't sound too pleased. Quiet, yet fierce, growls drew closer, and after pulling the Lionheart up on my shoulder, I slowly inched away from the gigantic tree. I stopped just short of it vanishing into the pitch dark, wanting to be close enough in case I hear a helpless, girly cry.

And just as I heard a fast, rhythmic thumping behind me, I turned, swinging my sword. Timing ever-perfect, I slashed open a leaping Alpha, satisfied to hear its heavy body smack into a rock and it's gurgled moans slowly fade. I hadn't much time to enjoy the sounds, however, when another flew at me, this time just barely touching my blade as I desperately countered. Hardly injured, the snarling Alpha dashed away, and I stood ready for more. Several pairs of glowing red eyes appeared in the pitch blackness between trees, which would have surely frightened pre-Hel Luca. But post-Hel Luca was amazingly calm, if not alone without the quiet whisperings and dark cues of Nosferatu. But having survived thus far proved, or at least evidenced, I could fight alone.

Suddenly, a snarl behind me, and I turned rapidly. Straining my poor, injured muscles, I heaved the Lionheart upward, over my shoulder, and down onto an Alpha. But as the dust and dirt flew about, blood splattered on either side of the Hel-hound, another jumped up, sinking its teeth into my right shoulder. I cried out and unfortunately released my weapon, gripping onto its inky fur and trying to tear it from my body. And I did so painfully, though it felt like it'd torn off my whole arm. Which of course was impossible, since I was holding it with both paws. It snapped and snarled at my face, and before I could be attacked again, I threw the thrashing Alpha toward another, lucky enough to slow it down. After a bit of a stumble, though, it was back up, and rather than try to counter its attack, I dove to my left, toward our shelter. Which proved, after all, to be a good decision, since I heard a predictably girlish scream and some loud snarling.

I bolted toward the tree, roaring as I leapt up, slamming my fists down into an Alpha. It snarled and easily shook me off, flinging me back. It turned, snorting at Ashley as if to say "you'll be next," then lunged at my throat. Both paws whipped up instinctively and caught both parts of its maw, trying desperately to keep them from snapping shut on my neck. But suddenly its body weakened, and so too did its jaws. It cried out and whined pathetically, and when I pushed it aside, I noticed a half-naked skunk standing above me panting, teeth bared and gripping an invisible sword. We shared a glance, myself very surprised at his apparent bravery in the presence of more obvious monsters than myself. After getting up, we stood together, watching more eyes emerge.

"What are those things?" Ashley asked.

Slowly they approached, but not yet attacked. No doubt seeing a few of their dead was making them think twice about simply attacking. They had to consider their enemies.

"Alphas," I rasped. One approached my sword, head held low and growling. It was intentionally standing on it. "Natives of Hel."

"Wh-What? So...it's real? No way."

I ignored the skunk's doubt. Suddenly, a couple attacked, both aiming straight toward me. I jumped out of the way, giving Ashley a quick shove, too, making damn sure he didn't get mauled. But before I could rebound, I felt sharp claws or teeth, or something dig into my back, causing me to roar. I then felt something sharp poke into my neck, but before it could do any more damage, I let myself fall back into a tree, then again until it let go. I suddenly ducked out of the way of another, reaching up and grabbing its back paw, then slammed it down onto the ground. I snarled wickedly as my footpaw came down on its head, giving off a rewarding snap and a sharp whine. After eyeing down the sword-coveting Alpha, I snarled and burst forward, grabbing a stick as I ran. It couldn't hurt, anyway.

I took a swing, smacking the Alpha, but it retaliated much harder. The beast came at me and clawed at my gut, and just as my paw came against the wound, I heard Ashley call something out, then a sharp pain in my leg. This time I cried out and fell to one knee, and moments later, I was knocked onto my side by a force strong enough to crack a rib or two - or so it felt. I felt teeth sink into my neck, but my paws were fortunately just fast enough to catch the jaws and keep them from doing anything permanently fatal. This seemed to be a favourite tactic amongst Alphas, probably used for capturing bigger prey, or possibly even Dragons, and more latched onto my body, trying to weaken me. I'd been in situations like this before, but always aided by Nosferatu's relentless desire to live. In this case I was alone, which became all the more clear when I heard Ashley crying out, as if trying to get to me. Was he being held back, saved for later? Or were they making him watch? Of course, I had no time to consider these questions, since the Alphas' tactics were working. With my fingers bleeding, as well as parts of my legs, arms and stomach, it would seem I hadn't much time to consider anything.

However, after hearing a terrified scream, I heard a much more wicked snarl than that of any of these monsters, and suddenly the group atop me began to lighten up. Or rather, something was tearing them off me. But even with my legs and arms free, the one atop me was certainly more dedicated to killing me than the others. I could hear a chaotic scuffling all around me, snarling, yelping and blood splashing, clearly the newcomer trying to fend off the others. A brilliant tactic, really, distracting my only saviour. But just as I felt my arms begin to give in, a few quick yelps and a rather nasty sounding growl later, the one biting at my throat eased up, until I spread his jaws wide enough for it to be tossed aside easily. The moment it hit the ground, I turned, ignoring the pain and the bleeding, and slammed my fist down onto the side of its head, then kicked another at my footpaws. Slowly I got up, and when I looked around for my saviour, all I saw was a group of dead or whimpering Alphas. Ashley was huddled by a group of bushes, and when I heard one final yelp, I saw who'd saved me.

Limping efficiently from between a couple dark trees, I saw a familiar face. His eyes glowing, having no doubt consumed some fresh flesh, my old pal Valo came up to me panting, ears flattened as he looked to see if I was all right. Ashley came over, shakily, wary of the three-legged Alpha, but I think when he saw me drop to my knees and hug my loyal friend, it eased his nerves.

"How the hell did you find me?" I asked the inky hound. Since slaying his old master Fenrir, and after the rest of his pack had been killed, Valo and I shared a fascinating, indescribable bond, whereby we had some sort of non-verbal way of communicating. Just by looking into his evil, blood-red eyes, he somehow conveyed to me how he came to be here. Had he followed my scent? No, that wouldn't be possible. But apparently, my faithful, black companion narrowly escaped death from the old Dragon Cathedral, unearthing himself with no one left but himself and a ton of books and debris. He'd sniffed around the totalled Transcarrier, but soon set out to find me. It would seem after months of aimless searching, he'd been drawn to this place, to Essex, or possibly to this Valley.

Above us flew a group of flying, bat-winged monsters, deep red eyes staring at us. They made horrible screeching noises, I think suggesting they wanted to eat. Other less opposing creatures slowly began to materialize in the darkness, as if to see what fate had fallen upon the poor Alphas. None approached, but only watched, seeing what we'd do next. Ashley came up to me, sticking close.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked with a shaky voice.

"These are the creatures," I explained with a rough throat, and with Valo licking my neck, "you don't see in the light. Our world has been morphed by their presence, and by the presence of monsters far worse, and far more terrifying than these Alphas. Monsters like the Crimson King and his Disciples."

"S-So it's true..." he said, still with a hint of skepticism. It was hard for me to understand his doubt; I hadn't ever really heard the stories of the Crimson King when I was a kid - nor when I got older - since most of them were fairy tales. "Do we have to be around them?" a nervous Ashley asked.

I shook my head. "These ones are mostly harmless," I said. "But we can go if you'd like."

Ashley held onto my arm tightly, and after giving Valo a nice pat on the head and retrieving my sword, we went back to our shelter. As Ashley put his clothes back on, fumbling with the leather cord on his top, the monstrous bird-like creatures suddenly swooped in and tore into the dead Alphas, the other animals making a modest approach. Feeling somewhat calm, despite my injuries, I helped Ashley lace up, which seemed to make him blush, and after strapping on his sword, we were off once more.

A short time later, the sun began to rise, and my wounds had finally stopped bleeding. Most of our trip that day was spent in silence, save the occasional question about Hel and about Valo, asked of course by Ashley. With Valo's help, we managed to scrounge up some food, Ashley and I feeling quite content when we came across several large bushes of wild berries. After resting far more peacefully that night, we were up again before sunrise and an hour or so before sunset again, it seemed we were nearing the end of the Valley. Of course, that hardly meant our trip was nearing an end, but it was good to get out of the thick forest again.

We rested for a while by a waterfall, which of course reminded me of my training with Char, putting me into a short state of remembrance. Ashley asked what was wrong, and Valo just rubbed his head on my leg. I explained, after a refreshing drink of water, my recovery with the Fire Dragon, which seemed to amaze the skunk. But again we were off, after convincing Ashley there was, in fact, no secret cave hidden behind the cascading water, which naturally concluded with a cold and soggy tiger. But I shook it off, quite literally, and we scaled a steep hill out of the valley, the trees slowly disbursing as we rose. Of course, there was still tons around us, but it wasn't nearly as thick and dark as the Valley forest had been.

We took rest for the night in this normal-looking woods, staying warm by the campfire and by each other. It pleased me to see Ashley finally warming up to Valo, though he still preferred lying next to me. Although we were both naked, it never once felt awkward to be with him. A few times, though, Ashley and I found ourselves cuddling very close, but we never moved beyond that. We both kept our paws mostly to ourselves, and were quite content to leave it that way.

When morning broke, the cool, damp air nipping at my nose, both Ashley and I were resistant to getting up, however with a bit of coaxing from Valo, we groggily got dressed and continued along. About mid-afternoon the forest began to thin, and we were out in a grassy field, the sun warming our fur and a gentle breeze cooling us off just enough. After long, we got onto what looked like a road, hopefully heading toward a town of some sort, hopefully to eat real food and sleep in a real bed. At least for a night. When the moon began to rise, we finally reached a small town called Kent where we settled for the night, finding a charming pub named the Black Lion Inn. The fat bartender and his crude jokes was charming, as was the puke stains on the walls and floor, and of course the charming grime in our mugs. Despite its charm, it was certainly not the worst pub we'd been in. In fact, Durham Arms - the Count's pub - made this place look classy.

But soon after drinking our stale beer and revolting, yet warm, food, we went to bed. Surprisingly, the Black Lion's beds were as clean as things could get in here, and of course Ashley and I kept each other warm. In the morning, soon after the town began to stir awake, Ashley dragged me around the various shops just to look around - mostly for a shirt for me - and with his stolen money, also bought some fresh-baked treats from the baker. The skunk told me on rare and special occasions, Count Durham would allow his servants to share whatever was leftover of his desserts, which the Count apparently enjoyed quite often. Ashley delighted in not giving me some, and I had to admit, it had been a very long time since I'd had a sweet pastry. Not even at my brief visit with Keefe's parents had I gotten a chance to have some, but only once at a celebration at Castle Midgard, having scored a major victory.

Ashley and I were on our way once more, Valo trailing close by. After sharing some gossip with a couple local farmers, regarding the Count's ruined summer home and his dead or otherwise incapacitated Guard, we were back on the road. According to one of the farmers, all of whom were hanging out outside of town, he saw an enormous mass of black clouds form from out of nowhere, and in the middle of it a large scar seemed to rip it apart. And with the incredible, swirling wind that'd picked up, bending the surrounding trees at forty-five degree angles, a mighty bolt of lightning hammered down, smashing the summer home to pieces, with the wind finishing off the rest. Said he saw it, or rather, "seen it," with his own eyes. The others assumed he'd exaggerated, but couldn't offer any reasonable explanation as to why the mansion was torn to bits. And not one of them could explain who killed Durham's men, either, nor why. But they called him a "bloody fool," and "one with a death-wish." Ashley just laughed nervously, and I didn't even grin. But once we were off, we quickly forgot about the farmers, and, with a surprising, barely noticeable bounce to my step, continued along the beaten bath.

The tedium of the proceeding couple days was enough to suck whatever energy we had left in us straight out, which explained our road-side campouts. Fortunately the few creatures, both furry and Hel-ish alike, who had noticed us and sauntered over to investigate were frightened off by a very intimidating Valo. A few days later, though, of our humdrum hike, and we reached yet another small town before Fairfax. In fact, we could see the port city before us; about a two or three hour walk, and a lovely view of the Fairfax Sea. We looked around this seaside town, finding nothing terribly interesting, but sat to eat. Interestingly, there wasn't any seafood on the menu. But we had a surprisingly enjoyable meal, a good drink, and set off toward the big city.

"So where are we gonna find your friend in this place?" I asked with a rough throat.

Ashley shrugged, his white top falling lower on his arms. "Guess we could try by the wharfs, though they're pretty big..."

"Where does Cy dock his ship?"

"I dunno."

I frowned. "Well how do you know he'll even be there?"

"I don't," Ashley said defensively. "I just said he owns a ship. He might not even still have it anymore."

Fighting to conceal a growl, I continued. "He'd damn well better... How on earth did you two meet, anyway?"

"He's run a few special shipments and stuff for Lord Durham. You know, the real quiet, hush-hush type ‘a thing. Cy doesn't care what his cargo is, so long as he gets paid, and he does get paid. Quite well, he's told me, too. But, anyway, he's hung around the castle a few times before, and we'd sneak out to have a bit of fun... The other servants would always cover for me if they needed to. It was so nice to get out of the castle once and a while, even though we wouldn't go that far; to a farming village close to Castle Durham...there's a lotta those villages around. Anyway, we'd get drinks, usually, and um..." Ashley started to blush, and I had a fairly good idea what he was going to say.

"Well anyway," he continued, "he used to tell me he'd take me away on his ship one day, but of course that never happened. Maybe that was why I was forced to work for Mr. Dunbar..."

Although I didn't say it, I did hope we'd meet Cy, if for no other reason than so he and Ashley could meet again. But perhaps more selfishly, I hoped we'd meet him so we could have a ship. If I understand the geography, Fairfax Sea runs about east-northeast, cutting the countries Essex and Portland in two, in sort of a long, narrow-shaped sea, which of course connects to the Ocean. If I'm not mistaken, McCree Manor and its frightening cliffs overlook the Ocean, too. The point is, though, it would take a much, much longer time to go around Fairfax Sea than through, so finding a ship seemed like somewhat of a priority. Though with the way things were going, it would seem we'd be begging someone else to take us.

"So what're you gonna do when we get to Fairfax?" the skunk asked me, adjusting his skirt. "Are we gonna stay the night?"

"No," I said bluntly. "There's no need."

Ashley then made a strange noise like I'd just told him he can't have a treat, and slumped his shoulders forward, frowning. "Midland's not going anywhere," he argued, no doubt forgetting the real reason why I wanted to go there. He probably still had doubts the Crimson King was real. "Besides, my pawpads are sore and my legs are tired..."

Despite his whining, I wasn't about to give in. "I don't care," I simply said. "Mine are sore, too, but you don't hear me bitching about it."

"Yeah, well I guess that's the difference between you and I."

A startling revelation. In fact, there were a lot of differences between Ashley and myself, the amount we complain being somewhere closer to the bottom of the list. Among the top: our choices in attire. I'd more than likely be wearing armour now, except it had been torn apart in Hel, and of course left there, and with no replacement. I wasn't too worried about finding armour at the moment, though, especially if I managed to locate Algol. If it's any bit as powerful as Níðhöggr said it was, then it'd be all the armour I'd ever need. It was doubtful, though, that anyone will have heard of it nowadays, let alone know where it is. I'd have to make a point of seeing Moira and Tiberius, the latter of whom is more than likely dead. And if he is, then Moira would, hopefully, be able to point me in the right direction, if even by giving me his journal or logs. But of course, we needed to get to Midland first.

After a couple hours of near-silence, we finally reached the walls of Fairfax, which were tall and overbearing. A lot of people were hanging out outside the walls, close to the entrance, and the guards seemed to ignore us. Not that they had any reason to be alarmed. Upon entering the city, Ashley, Valo and I both looked up at the tall homes, all of which were connected, people all around making themselves busy. One female fox had just dumped a disgusting bucket of, undoubtedly, furry waste onto the street, which wasn't uncommon, while another fur was sweeping in front of her front door. Luckily, the waste bucket it didn't come anywhere near us, but Ashley screamed nonetheless. The noises of a busy city were all around us, whether it be shouting, laughing, or the rhythmic hammering of either a blacksmith or a carpenter, and the young skunk stuck very close to me, all of this quite new to him. I, of course, was quite used to it, having spent most of my time in even worse parts than this in Midgard. Suddenly, I heard Ashley gasp horribly, and when I turned alerted, he was yanking on my sleeve and making all sorts of nonsensical, whiney noises.

"Ooh," he said as he pulled, really extending the word. "Look at that," the skunk whined, finally dragging me over to the window of some expensive-looking shop, and pressing his paw against the expensive-looking glass, aimed it straight toward some expensive-looking dress. "That's SO pretty," he gushed, and I just growled and reclaimed my arm. "Can we buy it?"

Now I frowned. "We can't afford something like that," I started. "Besides which, what's wrong with what you're wearing?"

Ashley scowled at me. "This," he said, wrinkling his nose as he said it, "is not pretty. This is something pub wenches wear, and this was given to me by the last pub wench, who probably died in it. This, Luca, is ugly and filthy, and I deserve a new one."

I just rolled my eyes. "You're being ridiculous," I argued. "Even if we could afford it, it isn't practical in the slightest. Those kinds of dresses aren't made for walking long distances, and they're especially not made for fighting in. And all that aside, this one isn't even that attractive."

The skunk gasped once more like I'd just insulted his mother, but didn't say anything for a moment. "What do you know, anyway?"

"I know no one in Midgard would ever wear a dress like that, especially not at a royal event."

"Oh," he replied cynically, "and how many of those have you been to?"

"Well," I shrugged, "just one, but I've been around enough of those types to know that this dress isn't that fashionable."

Ashley crossed his arms and pouted. "Well I like it."

"Why don't you buy something useful, like armour? Or, you know, boys clothes."

"I don't like boys clothes," the skunk insisted. I didn't care that Ashley had a clear affinity for skirts and dresses, but from my point of view, it just didn't make much sense. What he was wearing now was at least good for walking or hiking, but I had a very hard time picturing him fighting in it, though he hadn't had much trouble so far. "Besides...they don't make pretty armour. It's all for boorish guys like you."

I never thought I was boorish. But I ignored that comment and continued. "Armour isn't meant to be pretty," I said, taking a few steps away from the expensive-looking shop. Ashley reluctantly followed. "It's meant to protect you from your enemies, and if you're going to be travelling with me, that means you'll have a lot of enemies."

Ashley was still frowning, but he at least uncrossed his arms. "Well, where's your armour?"

I sighed. "Not that you'll believe it, but it was torn apart in my fight against the Crimson King."

"Uh huh. But you had armour?"

I nodded. "It was different than regular armour; built by my friend Wayland, it was made twice as thick as normal armour, and was much plainer, too, but a lot simpler. Best of all, the armour was dull and black; perfect way to freak the enemy out."

"Doesn't sound so freaky," Ashley commented, which I chose to ignore.

We continued through the busy, maze-like city, which only became busier the closer to the Docks we got, which took forever to get directions to; everyone was far too busy to help. The docks, as we found out, was also closer to the Fairfax Market, accounting for the busy, bustling noise of the enormous city. Everybody seemed to be shouting, each one trying to be louder than the next. But with Ashley bravely holding onto my arm, we managed to push through the crowd, passing by a wide variety of stalls. Most of them were fishermen and butchers, but a few cheap jewellers also thrust products into our faces. The latter, especially, appealed to Ashley, though the majority he said were cheap and ugly. The frightening thing was, there was always a crowd around their stalls, which meant that kind of garbage appealed to someone. Nevertheless, we pushed our way past a bunch of fruit and vegetable vendors, and another selling pottery. I had to admit to purposely slowing down to check out the blacksmith's weapons and armour, but none of it seemed particularly remarkable, or quality for that matter. Eventually, though, Ashley and I, Valo having no doubt found a different way around, left the Market, as evidenced by the slimming of crowds, heading toward the Docks.

A lot of sailors were hanging around, all of whom looked drunk and had probably been kicked out of the pub, and then all the other pubs they'd try afterwards. And yet somehow they managed to get their paws on some booze, and made no attempts to hide that fact. Having never been all that close to the sea before, I was quite impressed at the sheer size of some of these ships; probably the warships. There were many other ships about, the biggest ones further off from where we were; this seemed like the more commercial part of Fairfax, which of course meant a ton of fishing boats and cargo ships, and I couldn't imagine what else. I was looking around for a cheetah - a presumably naked cheetah - but saw only a bunch of drunk dogs by this pub, a few more drunk dogs by that pub, and a whole lot of other drunken or otherwise unstable furs. They didn't look particularly clean, either, but I hadn't heard many stories about clean sailors before, nor filthy ones for that matter. Heard a lot of stories and jokes about seamen in the army, though. As I recounted a few of those jokes, I rolled my eyes to myself.

"I dunno where to find him," Ashley suddenly said, bringing me back to reality. He stopped and scratched his head, then wiped the hair out of his eyes. With a bit of a frown, I tore a piece off my already-torn pants and once again began to comb the skunk's long, unruly hair with my claws, pulling it back. He just giggled. "I told you, you don't hafta do that for me..."

I ignored him for the time being, finally tying his hair back. I wasn't sure why I felt so compelled to fix that for him. "I know," I finally responded, "but it looks nicer."

Ashley giggled, then turned and gave me a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. But as soon as he did, we heard a bunch of gruff furs commenting, telling us how sweet we were. When the two of us turned, a group of seven furs were approaching, each one looking more dirty and rough than the last. Ashley then frowned, backing away from them.

"I think they're pirates," Ashley said to me, quiet enough so they didn't hear. "Just look at them... Betcha they've got a ton of gold stashed away somewhere."

I put my paw on the Lionheart, which was resting on a hook on a leather belt strapped over my shoulder and around my chest. It seemed these men - these pirates - were itching for a fight, and as always, I would be more than happy to indulge. A few of them already had their weapons drawn, the rest getting there.

"C'mon," one of them said, "we jus' wanna play wif your little girlie friend there. Then you can ‘ave her back when we're done...

I growled, and was surprised to hear Ashley growl, too. I heard him unsheathe his sword, stepping out from behind me a bit.

"Ooh," a few commented, very much delighted to see Ashley had some fight in him. "This one's gonna be a LOT of fun..." then giggled.

"Back off," I rasped, taking a step forward. I felt the Lionheart unhook, and for now I rested it on my shoulder.

"Yeah, back off," Ashley repeated needlessly. While I had no effect on them, Ashley only seemed to encourage them further. Finally they came up the stone steps leading to the ships, mostly surrounding us, either laughing or taunting us in some way. Each one had their weapons drawn now, and the closer they got, the stronger their stench. It wasn't the worst smell I'd ever experienced, given I didn't mind the smell of alcohol - of which they were drenched - but there was something else mixed in that could bring a tear to a more sensitive eye. Ashley just stood ready for a fight, no doubt realizing it was him they were after, while I simply eyed them down. They weren't intimidated in the slightest - not yet, anyway - and when one suddenly lunged toward the skunk, I was quick to act.

My right footpaw suddenly flew out in front of me, striking the pirate in his left ribs, knocking him over the ledge toward the docks. I heard another growl and come after me this time, but I turned quickly, swinging the Lionheart off my shoulder and completely obliterating his pelvis, the wolf now just twitching in his own bloody mess toward the buildings. The others just stopped and stared, until one lost a paw by Ashley's sword. As I turned, I watched the skunk kick that fur down then swung his sword to block an attack, but just as one came up behind him, paws of course reaching around to his front, I snarled forward. Almost immediately, hearing Ashley scream, I slammed into the pirate, knocking him back, but grabbed him before he fell over the ledge, which we were dangerously close to. With the hyena in my paw, I pulled him toward me and kneed his gut, then let him drop. I then took a step back and with a firm grip on the Lionheart, used the pommel to quickly jab a coyote in the gut, then slam his head down into my knee. Only two left now, and neither one looked particularly interested in Ashley. Like the cowards they were, the remaining two pirates just threatened us and took off.

Ashley threatened back, and finally sheathed his sword, myself replacing the Lionheart on my back. The skunk smiled up at me, satisfied at a job well done. "I hate guys like that," he said. "Especially since most of the time, they don't really want a boy. But they'd have taken one anyway..."

I rubbed Ashley's back, which seemed to perk him up a bit.

"You haven't changed one bit," I suddenly heard from behind me. It was a familiar voice, the type of voice that would have no doubt agitated my Inner Darkness. But of course the Dragons put a fine stop to that, at least for now. I wonder if this seal could wear off? When I turned to see who this familiar voice belonged to, I saw only a bunch of writhing pirates, until a hooded figure suddenly appeared, having jumped down from somewhere. He approached slowly, and I'm certain I would have heard a very wicked chuckling from Nosferatu. "And I was beginning to think you'd never come back."

I growled, then Ashley put a paw on my back. "Who's he?" the skunk asked.

"Loki," I said, mostly to tell the arctic fox I knew who he was, but also answering Ashley's question. "Get away," I told the skunk. "Now!"

Ashley gasped, but no doubt feeling the tension, then soon took off. "I'll find Cy!" he cried as he ran. When I looked down at Valo, he whined, but soon ran after Ashley to make sure he stayed safe.

I then turned back to Loki, thinking now would be an excellent time to stretch Nosferatu's black wings. But with a paw on the Lionheart, Loki and I continued to stare each other down. He looked angry, and almost seemed to quiver with rage. It was curious, though, since he hadn't shown so much anger toward me before. Although the last time him and I had fought, Nosferatu gave him a very thorough and very humiliating defeat, which prompted the similarly-faced fox to bring dozens upon dozens of Disciples to the Dragon Cathedral, in a last-ditch effort to keep me from reaching Hel. Of course, Loki's bruises and cuts had healed up by then, and even the arm I'd severed. Was he still angry over that? I wouldn't blame him if he was, but up until then, he'd always had a sort of smug confidence over me. Finally the fox pulled back his hood, and for the first time since meeting him, I watched him draw a sword. Loki held the blade properly, now in a stance ready for attack. I just unhooked the Lionheart and swung it around, holding it in a similar position. The two of us continued our staring contest, the hatred clear in Loki's eyes. But was he going to attack?

Seconds later, as if on cue, the arctic fox came running at me, swinging his sword. I threw mine upward, deflecting his attack easily, but when I came down to attack back, he'd easily parried and struck me in the back. Unhindered, I snarled and swung my sword around behind me, knocking Loki back. I turned swiftly and charged at him, but the fox deflected and leapt away. He then cried out desperately as he thrust his blade forward, but I was quick to evade. Regaining my balance, I swung the Lionheart upward, hitting Loki's block with incredible force, pushing him back. Straining my muscles, I growled ferociously and slashed downward, which he blocked, and continued hammering his smaller sword, gradually pushing him back toward the wall. The drunken onlookers jumped away from our duel, but hung around close enough to watch.

Loki, probably feeling desperate as he was backed into the wall, cried out as he lunged forward, narrowly dodging my blade and managing to slash my side, right where he'd gotten me before. I snarled once more, but this time was forced to hold my wound. Blood was pouring out, but I couldn't let that stop me. Loki came at me again, but with one paw tightly gripping my blade, I spun around, giving it one hard swing. The Lionheart smashed into Loki's sword, knocking him back and rolling to a stop. He struggled to get up, which gave me ample time to charge at him. Much to my surprise, as I took long, painful strides toward the fox, he hadn't yet gotten up. What was he waiting for? He would have ordinarily leapt up by now and thrown something at me. Suddenly the fox looked up and gasped, apparently surprised I was coming at him. Just as the Lionheart started to swing downward, he gave me a hard look, as if conceding to Death. He didn't even try to block my attack, and if I'd waited a second longer, I'd have sliced him in two, but I managed to drive my blade into the cobblestone beside him.

After a long moment, Loki staring up at me with shock and hatred, he tried for an attack, but I stomped on his blade, pinning it there. He snarled fiercely and lunged at me, swiping his modest claws at me and I simply backed away, easily blocking his feeble attacks. Although the Lionheart was thoroughly embedded into the stone, I hardly needed it. Something was definitely off here, but I continued to block and avoid Loki's attacks. Finally I grabbed his left wrist and growled and I lifted him off his feet, and before he could kick me in the chin, I turned and tossed him away, the fox uncharacteristically landing with a thump; he would have ordinarily done a few swift and artful leaps backward, but instead staggered to his footpaws. As I approached, he growled and came at me again, this time leaping into the air. But before he could kick me in the face, moving way slower than he used to, I blocked his footpaw and took hold of his ankle, swinging him around like a sword and letting go, watching his body fly through the air until he thudded against an unconscious pirate. Again he was slow to his footpaws, even as I charged at him once more.

To my relative surprise, though, Loki did dodge just as I tried to kick him in the ribs, and he turned quickly and punched me right in my bloody incision. I growled, but as Loki tried for another attack, I grabbed his wrist again, this time kneeing him in the gut, then kicking him onto his back. He writhed around a bit, holding his belly, growling wickedly as he tried to catch a breath. None of this made any sense. I put my footpaw down on his chest and held him there, giving him a hard stare. But as I looked into his eyes, through the hatred I saw something else. Something...sad and pitiful.

"I hate you!" the arctic fox snarled, gripping my lower leg. He punched at it hard, which admittedly hurt a little, but it was far from weakening. He struggled and struggled, until he finally gave up, letting his body go limp. And if I didn't know any better, I'd have sworn I saw tears in his eyes. This had to be some trick.

"Why should I let you live?" I growled, fully aware I had neither my nor Loki's sword with me. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to die!" the fox shouted, animating his body a bit, like ants had just crawled into his shirt.

"How did you find me?" I asked, pressing down.

"I followed your stench," he snorted.

"You're pathetic," I said.

Loki now just stared up at me, squeezing his face into as much of a frown as he could, lips quivering.

Finally I took my footpaw off him and went back to my sword. But before I could pick it up, I somehow sensed the fox behind me, with his sword, and I turned and snarled, batting the sword away and gripping his little neck tightly in one paw, giving a very tight squeeze and growling deeply as he choked for breath. I snarled at him and gave him a very good view of my wicked canines, squeezing harder. He'd dropped his sword and both paws hammered at my forearm, but I maintained my grip.

"I don't know what you're planning," I growled, "but I promise you, you will not succeed." I then threw Loki down once more, grunting as he fell to his rear, then turned and successfully retrieved my sword, reattaching it to my back. And though I felt certain Loki would have stayed down, the persistent arctic fox was up and growling. He went to stab me with his sword, but once more I easily avoided him, and as I turned I knocked the sword from his paws and kicked him back.

Loki recovered quickly and came at me, swinging punches much quicker than he had, but not so quick I couldn't either dodge or avoid them. He snarled with every attack, until he went for one hard punch, which unfortunately missed. I grabbed his arm and assisted in turning him around, then grabbed the fox in a tight headlock.

"I'm getting tired of this," I growled. Loki struggled fruitlessly, and though I couldn't figure out exactly what he was after, I couldn't quite shake the feeling something very strange was going on. He wasn't nearly as strong as he used to be, not nearly as nimble, and clearly had no one to help him.

"Damn you," Loki growled quietly, barely struggling now. "You took everything away from me," he whined, and though I never thought I'd see the day, I think a tear trickled down his cheek.

I gave a slight squeeze, though it may not have been necessary. "What do you mean? How?"

Loki was quivering once more. "You...just wouldn't die," he said. "You wouldn't listen, and you wouldn't do what I said."

When I loosened my grip, Loki fell through my arms and onto his knees, head down low. "The Crimson King," he continued, "was everything to me. And you... You had to ruin that."

I didn't know what he was talking about, but he sounded sincere.

Loki then got up and slammed his fist into my chest, then again. "You ruined everything!" he cried dramatically, hitting me some more. I just shook my head and held both his wrists, pulling him closer. For some reason, I felt bad for the fox, despite not fully understanding his situation. The small arctic fox resisted, tears pouring down his face. "I hate you!" he cried again and again like a child, trying to get away. "I'll never forgive you!"

"Forgive what..?"

Loki then stopped, face buried in his shoulder, apparently unable to look enough away. "When the Crimson King came back," the fox cried, "he...punished me, for not stopping you."

That wasn't the least bit surprising.

"But he didn't stop at the physical pain. When he got bored...torturing me...he took from me all the powers I'd been granted by him, and cast me out!" The small, fragile arctic fox began trembling again, and seemed as if he could barely stand, apparently just by remembering this. "He told me he never wanted to see my face again, and struck me hard."

Despite everything that'd happened, I couldn't stop myself from feeling a bit of pity on the fox. Finally I let go of his wrists, but instead of letting him drop, I just held the fox in my arms, feeling ridiculous for doing so. Apparently Loki thought so, too, since he growled and slipped out from under my arms and pushed me back. "Fuck you!" he spat.

Seeing just how pathetic and fragile Loki had become made me hate the Crimson King even more. When we'd met, the King spoke so fondly of his arctic fox, and was filled with such genuine anger when I'd insulted him. He spoke of Loki like he was his own child, even to the point where Loki's extremely overzealous and dangerous behaviour seemed more like a cute eccentricity. And yet he'd so easily beaten, tortured, and thrown away one of the closest things he'd had to a son, and no doubt enjoyed doing it. Knowing the amount of pain and suffering the Crimson King was capable of inflicting upon a single soul without feeling a shred of remorse made it far too easy to sympathise with Loki. But the little fox was filled with so much rage and sorrow, he couldn't realize just how much I truly empathised.

"I'm not going to kill you," I finally said, which seemed to surprise the fox.

"What?"

I shook my head. "You love the Crimson King with every fibre of your being," I stated hoarsely. Loki just scowled at me, yet through his angry eyes, he told me it was true. "What he did to you is unforgiveable, and even though you blame me, I can understand the pain and the loss."

Although he continued to give me a hard stare, I think it was starting to sink in.

"You know as well as anyone what Kai meant to me, and what he still means to me. And you must know how much pleasure the Crimson King got when he took my boy away from me." My throat was sore and it hurt to talk, but seeing Loki calm down, I had to continue. "The love we shared was far beyond anything I'd felt before, especially with such Darkness inside me. And now you know the pain of that kind of loss...don't you."

For a long moment, Loki didn't say a word, but the rage which seemed to blind him appeared dimmer. I think he was starting to understand that despite everything him and I had been through - through the threats, torturous dreams and battles - we both shared a particular, undeniable pain.

"Because of my Inner Darkness," I said, picking up Loki's sword, handing it to him hilt-first, "I couldn't really feel the pain of my loss. I felt...nothing. No fear, no sorrow, no anger or grief...and of course not the slightest bit of joy. But I also had the help of others to get me through every step."

Loki took back his sword, still frowning at me.

"But you weren't so lucky," I finally stated. "You don't..." I wasn't sure if I was able to finish that statement. Fortunately, I was cut off by a loud uproar coming from further down the street. I then continued, "...have to do this...alone..?" When I turned back around, Loki had vanished, an ability he evidently hadn't yet lost. When I turned back around, I noticed a sizable group of uniformed soldiers being led by a short Chocolate Lab, who was dressed very regally.

As I watched him approach, I quickly realized he wasn't just some Lord stomping through the city like he owns the place, but he was directing himself -and his small army - toward me. I was starting to get the feeling I didn't need to kneel to him, either. But with at least twenty soldiers following behind him, I felt readying for battle was perhaps a bit premature, at least for now. I suppose I could hear him out, since I didn't even know who this guy was. As he approached, I noticed the sky darkening.

Finally the Lab stopped about ten feet away from me, and searched me up and down. "So, it's true after all," he stated, probably thinking I knew what he meant. "You know, I was sort of hoping I would get this chance, but being stuck all the way out here, I was never given many opportunities."

That didn't help clarify things at all. But I stood patiently, waiting for him to continue, or at least introduce himself.

"I am," the canine started, as if reading my mind, "Count Thaddeus Durham, and I believe you ruined my summer home and killed some of my men."

"And I'm prepared to kill even more," I said, "if I have to."

Durham laughed obnoxiously. But as he laughed, I thought I felt a slight tingling of some sort within me, and the faintest sound of chuckling. I couldn't confirm what it was, since some of his men were still laughing, too, but I was sort of hoping it was the seal wearing off. Not that I needed Nosferatu to take care of a bunch of soldiers. Finally Durham spoke up again. "For your crimes," he said with a sigh, like it was unfortunate he had to do this, "I must be forced to take legal action, and toss you into the Dungeon where you will receive the harshest of punishments."

I growled quietly, glancing up at the unusually black clouds that'd formed overhead. I had a terrible feeling in my gut. "But after that, I can go, right?"

Again with the obnoxious laughter. "Oh my, no." Then without saying another word, the Count took a few steps backward as his men stepped forward, seeming to melt into the darkly-uniformed crowd.

Now I held the Lionheart tightly, taking a defensive stance. "Come with us," one said, but I ignored him. I gave him, and the rest, a glance that said ‘if you move any closer, you're certain die,' but it didn't slow them down. Finally, as one got too close, I kicked him in the stomach and backed off, unhooking my sword just as the others drew theirs. They were quick to start surrounding me, and the crowds of drunk sailors and loose women stood around to watch, eager to see even more blood. As I heard one approaching from behind, his armour making ample noise, I growled and spun my sword around, happy to see I floored both him and another. Then the soldiers all cried out and a bunch attacked at once. But I turned back around and cried out, straining myself to turn my sword around as fast as I could, and just as a blade came thrusting toward me, mine came down on a soldier, plus the one behind and beside him. Their painful cries was like music to my ears, reminding me instantly of days on the chaotic battlefield. Days were the roar of battle rang through my head and steel clashed together all around me. The ground would tremble beneath me as hundreds upon hundreds of men fought viciously, crying out madly as they struck down another enemy, or was struck down themselves. With five down already, the bloody roar of battle was all around me, filling me with something I could have called joy.

Just then, a sword struck my leg, which ordinarily would have meant nothing, but I hadn't a single piece of armour. I snarled but ignored the pain, knocking back the one who did it with the Lionheart's pommel, then, with incredible strength, kept my sword level and thrust it forward, knocking back a soldier with near-deadly force. I then swung the sword up high, it peaking somewhere above my head, and as it hung surreally over the crowd, I spun my paws and my body, slamming it down into my last attacker. He didn't even get a chance to scream. It was an attack and a bloody mess that left the others momentarily stunned. More than enough time to turn and slam my blade down into a couple others, their flailing bodies smearing into the cobblestone. With my sword resting for a moment, I lifted my head and roared fiercely at the ten-or-so others, a deafening War Cry that shook the earth and the souls of everybody watching. Nobody wanted to fuck with me, and frankly, I couldn't blame them. And though I didn't feel the fierce fangs of Nosferatu, I craved more. I let out another booming, feral roar, begging for more, but these men felt disinclined. As they backed away, their Lord Durham stepped forward, clapping slowly.

"Impressive," he laughed, though I'm not sure he was particularly amused. He stepped over one of his dead men, pushing past another. "I wasn't too sure what to expect, but this... This was far more than expected. Truly commendable."

"You don't seem too upset," I rasped, "over the loss of your men."

"Oh, them? Feh. They're worthless, anyway."

I growled. "What do you want from me?"

"I told you, I want to bring you to justice. Will you continue to evade the law?"

I just shook my head. "Unless you plan to stop me yourself, then yeah. I think I will."

Durham chuckled quietly - a familiar sound - accented by a sudden crack of lightning. "In fact, Luca, I do plan to stop you myself."

"How do you know my name?" I asked. I had never seen nor heard of Count Durham before today, and yet he seemed to know a lot about me. Enough, anyway, to unsettle me.

He chuckled again. "Indeed, how do I know your name?"

I growled. This was getting tiresome.

Durham then pulled back his expensive-looking cloak, revealing the hilts of what were probably two very nice swords. He pulled out both immediately and took a step toward me, apparently ready for a fight. Like usual, we stared each other down for a long moment, Durham seeming very calm and confident. I was going to wipe that confidence right off his smug face, and enjoy it, too. Finally, he attacked, and I deflected his right blade easily. However, the nimble Lab took advantage of the two gashes Loki had given me by slicing in further. I cried out and thrust my sword downward, which Durham easily dodged. It would seem I'd have to be a lot faster than this.

Just then, Durham attacked again. Once again straining my arm muscles, I hurriedly blocked on attack, and just barely managed to block another, but the third which followed got me in the left leg, which the other soldiers enjoyed seeing. The crowd around us had certainly grown; it's not every day a nobleman gets in a fight with a commoner. Just as the Count attacked once more, I leapt back, then twisted myself to block, then once more. Rather than trying to block an attack in the traditional way - by moving my sword - I found because of its size, it was far easier to move myself around and keep the Lionheart relatively stationary. The only drawback here was that I was in no position to counter, plus it was an enormous strain on my wrists. Finally, though, I found an opening. Just as Durham's blade deflected off mine, the sparks acting like a cue, I lowered my arms and began to turn my body mightily, swinging the massive blade around and gaining incredible momentum. I cried out as I swung my sword down toward Durham, and though he'd blocked it with both blades, I heard an ear-pleasing snap, a painful cry, and a Count fall to one knee. One broken knee, I'd imagine, and I'm sure the force did a number on his wrists, too.

As I stopped my blade from forcing me off my balance, I let it swing around to my back and up over my head. The Lionheart hung in the air for a moment, and I could feel the gaze of every person by the wharfs who wanted to see this momentous occasion. They all gasped at once, and for that brief moment, time stood still. But I finally began to hurtle my blade downward, and in the second before it cleaved the Count in two, he'd lifted both swords and, astonishingly, blocked the attack. I could almost feel the pulse of wind that blew from my weapon's sudden halt, but I most certainly heard the deafening snap and pop of Durham's shoulders, which he voiced very heartily. And yet amazingly, he was still holding back my sword, holding his position. He was growling fiercely as the sweat of the pain poured down his face. And though I could see him trembling, he wasn't enough to overpower me.

"No," the Count growled deeply, eyes closed tight. "You can't...defeat me so easily..."

I wasn't sure where he had gotten that information from, but I was sure to defy it. But just as I began to push down harder, Durham growled and started to push me back. And soon enough, I found myself almost face-to-face with the Count, surprised at his sudden strength, not to mention his glowing eyes. And just as he pushed me back, almost making me fall over, I let my blade rest and everything became strikingly clear. Count Durham, who was still making a hell of a noise with his growling, was slowly growing. Very soon, his clothes became too tight and slowly began to tear. All the people were about ready to run, but still stayed to watch. As he rose, everything about his navel stayed relatively the same, save his extra long and muscular arms, while the rest of him twisted and ground around with a horrible noise, his legs soon vanishing somewhere under his snake-like belly. When he let out a terrifying scream, his whole chest seemed to burst open, exposing a vertical, sphincter-like mouth running from his chest down to his navel, complete with deadly-sharp teeth and a vile tongue. And where his eyes once were, out popped long, slithering stalks with the balls in front; small and beady. His lower portion just continued to grow, his tail having split multiple times, just slithering and whipping about behind him. Remarkably, his upper body kept most it's fur, besides around his new mouth, while on his snake-like body it ran mostly along the back, some long, twisted and randomly-sized spikes protruding all over the place, all the way to his tail tips.

Durham let out another horrible scream and slammed his huge, long paw - if you could still call it that - into the cobblestone, having missed me. Dirt and rock flew around, and I had to take another leap back. It shouldn't have surprised me Durham was a Disciple, though in my defence, I hadn't seen one in over eight months, much less fought one. He seemed like a fairly simple Disciple; big, angry, and strong.

"It has been too long since I last stretched these limbs," the Count spoke in a loud, booming voice. He stood high above the closest buildings, no doubt proclaiming this to the whole city, or so it seemed. It was odd hearing him talk, since his regular mouth seemed sewn shut and the gaping one in his chest hardly moved, except to lash his tongue out randomly.

Suddenly, Durham took another swing at me, which I blocked with my sword. Unfortunately I had only two legs to keep me up, rather than a seven-foot thick, snake-like body, so I flew back with decisive ease. Without my armour, I felt an intense pain surge through my back as I came down hard on my shoulder blade and continued to skid along the cobblestone street. I groaned and shook my head, but when I heard the Count scream and charge forward, I was quick to my feet. I instantly bolted to the right, toward the buildings, tumbling down when he slammed his fist down, shaking the ground. People were running around desperately, many of them unable to even comprehend what they were seeing, which made avoiding attack much trickier. Finally, though, I took a stand and when Durham went in for an attack, I swung my blade as hard as I could upward, slicing a good hole in the Lord's fine paw. He howled and held his paw, screeching wickedly and thrashing about like I'd just jammed my sword through that pretty mouth of his. Which wasn't a bad idea. But of course, this only enraged the Disciple.

He slammed a paw down where I'd been standing, and again where I'd been lying, and when I ducked between buildings, running away from the docks, he simply smashed the two houses to bits, screaming he slithered forward, demolishing everything in his way. Very quickly I realized this was a bad idea, since there were already corpses lying about. Finally I stopped, and as his fist came down, I dove forward, rolled to my feet and continued on, growling then crying out as my sword-turned-spear flew toward Durham's body. And like clockwork, the Lionheart pierced the Count's skin with ease, causing him to scream out in pain, thrashing about even more than before. Unfortunately, despite his ear-piercing theatrics, he grabbed onto me and threw me hard through a broken wall and into the rubble of a broken building. I groaned and growled and tried to get up, but found in extraordinarily difficult. When I looked back, the hideous Disciple had torn the Lionheart from what could have been its gut and aimed it toward me. But as Durham went to attack, I was shocked to see a fast, dark-clothed arctic fox running up along his back, sword in paw. Seconds later, Loki shoved his sword straight through Durham's chest, causing a great uproar from the beast.

Durham thrashed about screaming, Loki having been knocked off no doubt by being slammed into the side of a building, and I hurried toward my sword. When I grabbed the Lionheart, I took a deep breath to collect myself. When Durham's focus was back on me, I quickly bolted back toward the docks, but soon discovered the mistake in that. Though Durham's long body stretched far, part of it was draped over the edge of the road, down onto the actual dock, and his multitudes of tails were dangerously close to me. One quickly whipped at me, as if having a mind of its own, which I barely blocked. Fortunately it didn't carry much force, but would have undoubtedly broken an arm, at least, had it struck me directly. But as another came whipping at me, I was extremely fortunate enough to have dodged, then I heaved my blade diagonally upward, slicing the tail clean off. The deafening roar of thunder and fire filled my ears. I heard Durham cry out, a sound very familiar to me now, and he simply crushed the buildings under him to get to me, spreading the flames further. But I was growing very tired of this fight, and so dashed forward. I nimbly dodged to the right as I ran, digging my claws into the cobblestone as I hurried to a halt. With his paw still in the ground, I let out a deep, fierce growl and twisted my body around, pulling the Lionheart with me. I struck Durham's arm with amazing force, slicing straight through his horrid flesh and hard bone, and I was once again graced by the Count's screaming melody. I didn't stop there, though, and as a tail came hurling toward me, I happily cut it in two useless halves, then turned and went once more for Durham's snake-like body. Running hard, I drove the Lionheart deep inside the Count, yanking the blade forward with all my might, stretching the massive wound wide open. Blood gushed from his massive wound, drenching my pants and everything they were covering. But when I looked up, the Count had twisted his body around - ignoring Loki now - and down came his other hard paw, myself trying desperately to free my sword from his body.

Just as the sword came free, though, bringing out more hot, slick blood, the Count smashed his fist straight into me. I flew back with amazing speed, and within seconds I found myself rolling along the back of his snaky body, collecting spikes as I did, until I finally hit a big one and halted painfully. I could hear the Count chuckling and felt his body moving as he positioned himself to look at me better, no doubt enjoying this. He reached his paw down toward me and picked me up, my sword having fallen somewhere. Holding me by my right leg, the monster held me up to somewhere around his face, where his bulging stalk-eyes could stare at me and he chuckled some more. And all I could offer as a reply was a painful groan.

Much to my surprise, though, and the Count's, Valo suddenly appeared from nowhere, carmine eyes glowing fiercely, and with a wicked growl chomped down on one of the eyes, causing the monster to howl in pain and thrash about madly, and of course dropping me. I watched him flail about as I fell, smashing more buildings as he flung his head around, trying to shake my Alpha. Finally he gripped the hound, but before I could see his fate, something hard struck me from the side, and after a bit of confusing and disorienting leaps, found myself down on the lower part of the docks, a hooded arctic fox now giving me back my arm. He was frowning still, but after our eyes met, he bound away, sword in paw. I groaned for a moment longer, not yet fully realizing what'd just happened. I slowly got up, and after hearing a few more horrid screams and cries from the booming voice of the Count, I continued toward the stairs. There was about twenty stone steps - though it felt like more - and when I reached the top, I noticed a very fast fox running along Durham's back and leaping up just before being attacked, striking his ribs. The Count's snake-like portion was slithering and whipping madly as he fought both Loki and Valo, apparently finding it very hard to strike either one.

I then noticed a shiny glint from the corner of my eye, seeing the Lionheart, I think reflecting the blaze of the city behind it. Though it was constantly being shifted around from the Count's unpredictable movements, I growled and made a dash for it. I ran quickly and suddenly went down, avoiding his body, sliding along the cobblestone. Luckily for me, the stone was slick with blood, and I slid right under his body, seconds before it slammed back down again. With a hearty growl, I swiftly got up to my footpaws with the Lionheart, immediately turning and slamming my blade down into the Count, slicing his snaky body nearly in two. I heard him cry out once more, his butt-end flailing like crazy. I then blocked a tail-attack and ran toward his main body, roaring as I swung my sword powerfully, carving an incredibly deep wound in his stomach, once again getting another warm coating of blackish blood. The Count of course screamed, then suddenly started toward the city, demolishing buildings as he went and sweeping away the city guards. They were too horror-stuck to be any use, anyway.

I quickly grabbed onto one of his tail spines, and seconds later, saw Loki running past me, then Valo. However painful, I managed to pull myself up onto Durham's back and with a fierce growl, after Loki and Valo had distracted the Count enough to make him stop, I slammed the Lionheart downward. I pierced the Disciple's body easily, and as he cried out and went to attack - which was fortunately stopped by Loki - I swung around so I was facing Durham's main body and yanked hard on my sword's handle. A horrible crackling and mushy noise filled my ears as his body was slowly torn in two, using all my strength to cleave the monster, black blood gushing upward. It was a complicated motion of both pulling, pushing, and digging downward, until I gave one final hack through bone and the rest tore off easily. Both halves flailed about madly and soaked the street in blood, Durham screaming horribly.

"I'll rip you apart," the Count boomed, managing to take Loki in his paw and slam him down into the ground, then easily batted Valo away. Despite missing most of his snaky body, he was still quite mobile. Durham turned and slammed his fist down into the stone, barely missing me, but as I recovered, attacked again.

I surprised even myself with my swiftness, though, having thrown up my blade and stabbed the Demon through his paw, and after that brief moment where I had to process what'd just happened, I let out a fierce roar and with burning muscles, lifted my blade upward, slashing his forearm until the Lionheart came free. Not wasting a second, I dashed toward Durham's main body and gave another powerful slash where I had done so earlier, cutting him even deeper. Of course he cried out angrily, but as his good paw went to swat me, I shook my head and turned, snarling as I swung my blade around, slicing his paw nearly in two. I then turned once again, back toward his body, and with one paw on the Lionheart's pommel, rammed my weapon straight into his gut, taking a tight grip and forcing the blade upward. Durham screamed and staggered about, pulling away, but I was quick to attack once more. His cut and messy paw tried to knock me away, and simply tended to his gushing wounds as he groaned and growled in terrible pain.

I then had a sudden urge to look behind me, and when I did, I saw Loki charging toward me, sword in paw. Our eyes met for the briefest of moments, somehow conveying a message. I held my sword toward him, the end resting on the ground, and as he approached, he put one footpaw on it and a paw on my shoulder, then I swung my blade upward with all my might, sending the fox flying toward Durham. Not waiting around to see what he was going to do, I ran and got in behind the seemingly distracted Disciple, roaring as I let my blade fly, coming down on his back. Although he stood taller than the buildings - when they were standing - it seemed Loki and I were going to bring him down. This became all the more clear when I noticed one of his stalk-eyes dangling off his face, despite grabbing Loki seconds later with his left paw - the one nearly cut in two - and slamming him into the ground once more, this time smashing his fist into him a few more times. I was amazed Loki was still breathing, though I think barely. But I just growled and stabbed my sword once more into Durham's back, slicing sideways and before he could fling me off, I took a solid stance and used every bit of strength I had left in me to swing my blade diagonally upward, cutting through enough of his horrid flesh to make the Count fall forward. I'd mostly severed the last snake-like portion of his body, making the rotten Disciple immobile.

I jumped off the dead back of the Count and dragged the Lionheart toward his face. Like so many times before, the Disciple was afraid and amazed. Never in a thousand years would he have thought defeat possible, and yet here I was, with merely a faint whisper from my Inner Darkness standing above his twisted, frightened face.

"Impossible..." the Count said. "Y-You cannot defeat..."

"A Disciple, I know."

Durham growled, and before he could swing an arm to knock me back, I raised the Lionheart and severed his right arm, in synch with a lighting strike, then shoved him onto his back. I very much enjoyed hearing him squeal, more so when I took my blade and heaved it down into his large, toothy mouth, pinning him there like an insect. The smell of blood and ash filled my lungs, thunder roaring above me in the blackened sky. I took in a deep, glorious breath, pressing my footpaw down into Durham's neck. He squealed, and I simply smirked, breathing slow, deep breaths. I glanced over at a limping arctic fox, and seconds later, he tossed me his sword. I aimed the blade downward, right against Durham's bloody, mashed up face.

"Please," the monster begged, "spare me..."

This time I smiled my teeth at him, chuckling like Nosferatu. And with a satisfied grin, I slowly pushed the sword down, growling as the Count cried in pain. "I have devoted the last years of my life," I said hoarsely, "destroying monsters like you. You deserve no mercy."

Count Durham groaned as I twisted the blade into his cheekbone, then let up. "You," the Disciple spoke, "are...a monster." Then laughed.

I would ordinarily feel inclined to disagree, but by this point, I think Durham may have hit it right on the mark. "Maybe I am," I rasped, jabbing the sword into his face elsewhere. "Maybe I'm not. But one thing's for sure, as long as I still breathe, pieces of shit like you will continue to fall."

I then moved the sword and poked it between the Disciple's limp eyes, twisting it downward once more, laughing at his pained cries. His body shook and growled, unable to stop me, though he certainly tried. Loki was standing beside me now, looking down at Durham's face with disgust. I glanced over at him, and he simply spat, "Kill him." And when I looked back to the Count, I bared my teeth and pushed the sword down into his skull, Durham groaning and hissing as his life slowly faded.

I just stared at the dying Disciple for a long while, feeling the pain of the fight rush back into my body, and with a quiet, dark chuckle, I fell to my knees and closed my eyes. I had overexerted myself once again, and though I had barely the influence of Nosferatu helping me in battle, I still felt drained and lifeless. And thoroughly broken. Admittedly, though, I didn't feel any more lifeless than before, but instead the same cold, emptiness I had felt since my battle with the Crimson King. Suppose I couldn't fall any lower than this. After a moment of pondering, I finally began to feel myself slipping into that familiar, icy darkness I always had. I would wake up soon, somewhere unknown to me, but undeniably safe. But would I feel more empty than this? It seemed doubtful.

When I finally did open my eyes, I was not met with the warm sense of security usually provided for me, but instead with a frigid shiver up my spine and someone breathing heavily next to me. Their breath was warm...hot, even, and stank of bloody death. I'd smelt that breath before, though, and could only belong to my loyal Alpha, Valo. When I shifted painfully, I confirmed that fact, then tried to sit up. A bunch of my ribs were probably broken, but it wasn't enough to stop me from making a chair out of the smelly straw beneath me. I just groaned and leaned my head back against the cool, damp brick, then looked around. Everything was very dark, and only a few broken boxes and empty barrels lay on this equally cool, dirt floor, chunks of the walls and ceiling scattered about. It would appear I was in a cellar of some kind, and a rather large, derelict one at that. In front of me was a huge, thick pillar between two wide archways, holding up the ceiling, which looked like it was going to crush me at any moment. And yet Valo was perfectly calm, and so should I remain. Suddenly I saw a slight movement, and from the shadows of the second half of the room, divided by the pillar and archways, emerged a hooded arctic fox. He stood above me, just staring.

"I could kill you right now," he said, sword apparently drawn.

"Which wouldn't mean a thing," I grunted.

Loki just growled and stabbed his sword into the dirt, then took a seat on a large stone in front of me; probably a part of the crumbling ceiling. We both just sat in silence for a long time, nary a sound between us. Valo made a few of his normal random noises, but it didn't do much to break the tension.

"Why bring me here?" I decided to ask. I idly rubbed my side waiting for a response, quickly realizing I was still covered in blood. My fur was sticky and damp, and felt very uncomfortable. Then I realized I hadn't even noticed my clothes getting torn throughout the battle; I guess I'd gotten so used to being naked in Hel, it didn't feel much different.

"I thought I'd save you prosecution by the City Guard. They'd need someone to blame, you know." This was interesting behaviour from Loki.

But I grunted, then rested once more. It was a long while before somebody spoke again. It was Loki again. "Did you mean what you said..?"

I perked my ears and opened my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"About..." The fox was quivering slightly. "About me not having to do this alone?"

So I guess he'd heard me after all. But I nodded. "Yeah, I did."

Loki sighed heavily. It was nice to see he found this as awkward as I did. "I'm," then another long, long pause. "Fuck," the fox spat.

"It's okay," I said.

Loki sighed again, then looked up at me. In that moment we shared a glance, we both saw each other's pain, both caused by the Crimson King. We both saw how empty and hollow we'd become at the paws of that Evil King, which I think was the only thing keeping us from beating each other senseless.

"I'm sorry," Loki suddenly said, turning his head into his shoulder, "for all the things I did to you...for my master."

I felt I should point out just how terrible those things had been, but I decided against it. It didn't seem necessary at this point. I wasn't sure if I could forgive the fox, though when I thought about it, every one of his attempts to kill me or take Kai had failed, which only helped fuel his anger. Loki would often appear to me in dreams and torture me, trying to force me into compliance, though it never worked. Although he'd turned my best friend - the lion named Rit - into one of those horrible Disciples, somehow I felt he was still alive, and not completely evil; I'd nearly forgotten about my transport into Hel, where I'd heard his familiar roar and possibly seen his monstrous body. Could I forgive this fox? The hardest thing he'd ever have to do was apologize to me, if he was anything like myself, and it felt sincere.

"God damn it," Loki growled, unable to hide his face enough.

I then leaned forward, ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs, and held Loki's paw. He was surprisingly warm. Loki just gasped slightly and turned, and after a long second, pulled his paw away and scowled at me.

"Go to hell!" he snarled, rubbing the part of his paw I'd touched.

"Have you ever been close to another fur before?" I asked him calmly.

Loki tried to scowl even more, nose wrinkled and teeth showing, but finally gave up. "I was close to the Crimson King, asshole."

I frowned. "I mean...physically close."

Loki then did this odd thing with his head, twitching it back quickly like a bug had just flown into his face. "Why? Why would I do that?"

I held out a paw. "C'mere," I said, hopefully to show him why, and for a while Loki just glared at me, then gave me a shaky paw. This was extremely awkward for him, as well as for myself, and yet I seemed compelled to continue. Slowly I pulled Loki close to me, and though he offered a bit of resistance, I got him turned around and put my arms around him, holding the fox close against my chest. He squirmed and growled, but was soon able to relax. I could feel his rapid heartbeat, and practically see the tension rising up. But I think as our bodies warmed up, he was starting to feel what I felt: warmth and comfort.

Loki growled some more, no doubt entirely new to such sensations.

"It's okay," I said quietly. "Just relax..."

"I...I can't!" the arctic fox shouted, trying harder now to get away, and I didn't try to stop him. "God damn you!" he cried, backing into the pillar. He was shivering, arms crossed over his chest. He then sat back against the pillar, looking angry and cold.

I just sighed quietly, letting myself relax. I put a paw on Valo's head, petting him gently, glancing back at Loki every so often. I think he was contemplating to himself what had just happened, though his angry face hadn't changed. He'd sometimes look back at me, but look away immediately after. How long did he intend for us to stay down here, anyway? With that thought in mind, I figured I'd try to stand, and though my body ached, I slowly and shakily got up, which apparently made Loki get up, too.

"What're you doing?" he asked me.

"Seeing if I can move. Not sure about you, but I don't really want to spend any more time down here than I have to."

"I sent your friend to find you some clothes," Loki suddenly told me, as if wanting me to stay. "And some water to clean you with."

There was probably enough water tricking down the walls to do that. Just had to scrape it off. But I decided to stay anyway, figuring the city was probably still in an uproar over recent monster-related events. I instead paced around the cellar, realizing now just how low the ceiling was. I didn't need to crouch down, but I certainly couldn't lift my arms above my head. I was luckily feeling well enough to walk, despite several pains in my sides, back, and legs, but hopefully I was still able to lift the Lionheart. It was currently leaning against the wall near where Valo had been lying, and if I had enough room, I'd have swung it around a few times just to see. But for now I stood with my paws on the ceiling, trying to stretch as best I could. I just groaned and grunted as I worked the soreness and the stiffness out of my muscles and bones, and for a second it felt good, before coming back again. But I let my stretched muscles relax, sighing and letting my arms drop to my sides. When I glanced over at Loki, he was just staring at me.

"What?" he frowned.

"You were staring at me," I said, frowning back.

Loki paused, but told me to fuck off, anyway. He was acting very oddly. I think he wanted to get close to me, but couldn't bring himself to do it. And I had to admit, I kind of wanted to get close to him, too, if for no other reason than to keep warm, of course.

After another long, awkward pause, Loki started up again. "You were pretty good in battle," he said, no doubt referring to my fight with Count Durham, and not himself. "A real beast," the fox emphasized.

"Thanks," I said insincerely. "I've had a lot of practice, especially against lower Disciples like Durham. But, uh..." This whole situation still felt incredibly strange, but I continued anyway. "I couldn't have done it without your help. With or without your power, you're a fine warrior."

Loki nodded, something like his version of a smile or a thanks. He did, I noticed, turn his head slightly, as if resisting the urge to once again bury his face his shoulder. Was I embarrassing the arctic fox? Or was he just unused to such compliments?

Finally I sat down again, groaning as my body came to rest. Loki sat close to me. "So," I started huskily, "tell me about yourself."

Loki looked up suddenly, extremely surprised. "Wh-What? Why?"

"I'm just curious about you. I've learned a little along the way."

"Like...what?"

"Like when you were a kit, Níðhöggr forced you through to Hel to test his machine, and how you met the Crimson King."

Loki nodded quickly, as if not knowing what to think about this. His eyes then met with mine. "Yeah," he confirmed. "And..?"

"And...that's about it."

"Oh." The fox sounded disappointed.

"So, how did you end up with Níðhöggr?"

He stared into a rock beside me for a long, long while, probably trying to recount those days. It had probably been a very long time since he'd last thought about it. "That was so long ago," Loki started quietly. "I lived in this small village near a forest, sort of hidden from the rest of the world. Everybody had their tasks to do, myself included; I made bracelets for the others; no big deal, but I was just a kit. Anyway, back in those days, everybody feared the Dragons, but especially the Black Dragons. Most clans warred against one another, but only if provoked, but the Black Dragons...they hated everybody. Or so it seemed, anyway. Níðhöggr was of course their leader, and to help him in his campaigns against the other clans, he enlisted the help of furs. Course, they never had a choice, and were treated like slaves. We were slaves... One day, I'd just made a, um...a special bracelet for someone, when the Black Dragons attacked. They were swift and deadly, killing the ones they couldn't use. They were going to kill me since I was so young, but I think they appreciated my lip."

"Your lip?"

Loki nodded. "I was always the one in our village getting in trouble for swearing or threatening someone."

No surprises there.

"After that, we were all taken back to Níðhöggr and the others immediately suited up. We were forced to live in our armour, even if we were doing regular tasks for the Dragons, like cleaning weapons or farming our own crops. The only meat we got was Dragon meat, which tasted terrible, or our own meat. You know...from the dead slaves. I was never given a suit of armour, though, I think because none of it fit me. I was a little surprised, in retrospect, they didn't just force me into battle anyway."

"So what did you do?"

"For a while I just worked in the crop fields, which hardly grew anything anyway. But, um..." Loki began breathing rapidly, and I offered him a paw. Given his reaction to ‘but, um,' I was starting to get an idea for what it was. Loki just stared at my paw, and somewhat reluctantly held on, inching closer toward me. "When...the Dragons decided I wasn't good enough to grow crops... Níðhöggr decided to pass me around the camp. He told them my ‘services' were open to anyone who wanted them, and when I resisted...I was chained to a rock all day. And rock or no rock...that became my new job for the other slaves. I was...their slave."

Loki was gripping my paw tightly and he looked up to me, both sadness and hatred in his eyes. "The only thing that kept me going was that bracelet I'd made for a friend. For Heimdall..."

"Heimdall?" I asked.

"He was from the village on the other side of the forest, who were our enemies. Heimdall was blind, but we would play in the forest together anyway, and, um...I... The bracelet was...it was my gift for him, telling him...how I felt."

Now this was a surprise. "But you never gave it to him?"

Loki gripped my paw tightly again, this time trembling somewhat. He probably hadn't thought about Heimdall for aeons. "No," he finally said. "I was going to on the day the Dragons attacked. And I never saw him again."

It was somewhat alarming to see tears forming in Loki's eyes, much less running down his face. And yet there they were. Not surprisingly, Loki tried desperately to hide his face, though made no attempts at reclaiming his paw. I held out my other paw and with the back of my fingers, gently stroked the fox's right cheek, wiping a stream of tears away. He looked up at me stunned, but I just stared at him with sympathetic eyes. Slowly and awkwardly, the arctic fox inched closer toward my body until he was leaning against my chest, curled up in front of me. "Fuck," Loki spat. "I'm pathetic..."

I put my arms around the fox, sighing quietly. He was very warm, which surprised me. I no doubt felt warm to him, too. "So why did Níðhöggr choose you? To go into Hel, I mean."

Loki scoffed. "He was fond of only one fur; some tiger named Baldr - one of your ancestors. Everyone else meant nothing to him, especially those as useless as I was. Níðhöggr valued strength and power above all else, and I couldn't even fight for him. And so I was the most obvious choice for his experiment. I was Carried to Hel the next morning, after finishing up a session with five of his slaves... When I got there, I was almost immediately attacked by wild beasts I'd never seen before, and though I'd somehow managed to kill one, a large pack of others were there to replace him. And so I ran. I ran, and I didn't stop until my legs could carry me no further. They said no mortal could survive Hel, and yet somehow I'd survived. Long enough, anyway, to happen upon the Scorched Planes where I collapsed. The Crimson King took me in, and he seemed so...kind. So generous and warm. Probably because I was the only fur he'd seen in hundreds of years... He taught me how to use his magic, and how to protect myself from turning into a Demon... He even taught me how to prolong my life indefinitely, like himself, though it took me years to learn. Those...were some of the best years of my life. "

Loki and I shared a long moment in silence, slowly becoming more comfortable with this situation. The fox had stopped trembling, and his little movements didn't feel so forced or awkward. It was clear why the Crimson King had effected Loki so much when he'd kicked him out, having become so protective and paternal to him. And yet he'd shown such an indescribable coldness to the fox that he had likely never thought possible from the King, let alone experience himself. Neither of us moved much, until we both sighed in unison, which caused Loki to stir.

"You okay?" I asked.

Loki grunted, then put a paw on my chest, pushing himself away. "I'm not used to this," he admitted. "This is so strange to me. The only time I'd ever really been close to a fur like this, was when I was Níðhöggr's slave. And most of them had no interest in keeping me warm. Do you know how old I was? Do you?"

Loki paused, but interrupted before I could say anything. "I was eight," he growled, gripping my chest fur a bit. "That piece of shit dragon fed me to those filthy, vile slaves when I was eight! I didn't even know what to do with my own fucking penis at that age." Loki then pushed himself further away, fists clenched and baring his teeth. He stared hard at me, or through me, as if reliving those days. He growled deeply and snarled, slamming his fist into my chest, eyes closed tight. "God damn it," he growled, shaking quietly, and I simply held his clenched paw tightly. "Things weren't supposed to be like this," he said.

I didn't know what to say to the fox, so I continued to do what I was doing; holding his paw. It had finally loosened, then turned and his palm pressed against my chest. I could feel his fingers moving slightly, as if trying to stop himself from scritching me. He was still staring into the wall behind my head.

"I was still a god damn kit," he whispered, then stayed silent for a long time. Only the sound of his heavy breathing filled the dank air. Finally his eyes focused and our gazes met. And for a while we just stared at each other. "How can you be so kind?" the fox asked me, lowering his head, soon finding its rightful place buried in his shoulder. "After all I've done to you, and your kid, and to...the lion."

That was a very curious question. How could I be so kind to him? Although I'd taught him an extremely harsh lesson back in a ruined Castle Midgard - with the help of Nosferatu, of course - I didn't feel much ill will toward the arctic fox. I knew there was a point in time where I wouldn't have hesitated for a moment to snap his neck, and yet here I was trying to comfort him. Had I gone that soft? Or was I simply that far gone? I knew since waking up after my fight with the Crimson King, I hadn't felt the same. But I had over eight months to recover, and I didn't feel the same emptiness I had before. Had the fox's story gotten to me?

"I guess...you aren't the same," he finally concluded. The same as who? Loki then shook his head slowly. "I hated you so much," Loki told me. "And now look at me..." The fox seemed ashamed of himself, or disgusted, then finally reclaimed his paw. He was down on his knees, bum against his heels, between my legs and staring at my stomach. Valo made some noise, but we both ignored it, until he made another and I looked over. Something had gotten his attention, then we heard a banging at some kind of door.

Light then poured into our dark, dank surroundings, and down some creaky steps walked a skunk and a lantern, and behind him, a half-naked cheetah. The cheetah was wearing pants - torn and ragged - but no shirt and just a bandana on his head, ears poking out from under. He seemed rather cheerful, despite carrying two buckets of water on his shoulders.

"I found you some..." Ashley then stopped and stared at Loki and I for a moment. "What's going on?"

Loki frowned, then got up. "Nothing," he said, then nabbed the lantern from the skunk.

Ashley frowned back, then turned back to me. "We got you some clothes, and some water to get that blood out..."

Slowly and painfully I got up, thanking the skunk. I then noticed the cheetah ogling me, which made frown as well.

"Uh...I'm not really sure how to go about this," Ashley said.

"Just drench him," Loki said from afar, still holding the lantern.

"I have a sponge?" the cheetah offered, still holding the heavy buckets. When he put them down, I noticed two sheathed swords on his back, attached to what appeared to be a leather harness around his chest. Interesting.

But after short deliberation, and discovering this was Ashley's friend Cy, I began to get as much of the mess out of my fur as I could, with much help from the other two. Loki just leaned back against the pillar and watched with his hood up, and I continued to get annoyed at all the busy paws. But soon enough I was as clean as I could get, and after a vain attempt at drying my fur, I slipped into my clothes. They were a bit big, but manageable. I then retrieved the Lionheart, and satisfied we hadn't forgotten anything, the four of us, plus Valo, made our way back onto the city streets. Valo cleverly took another way, not wanting to draw any more attention to us.

It was night time over Fairfax now, fires still burning and the skies as black as pitch. There wasn't a star to be seen, either. But we navigated the streets slowly and quietly, Loki trailing behind. Ashely and Cy were ahead of me, Cy happily leading the way. They were carrying on some conversation, both clearly enjoying each other's company, while I slowed down to join Loki. He just looked up at me with his usual expressionless face, then sunk under his hood once more.

"Yeah?" he asked me.

I just shook my head, and we continued along. Neither of us spoke, nor made any sort of affectionate gestures, but we felt oddly comfortable together. The tension between us was more or less gone, though I think something still remained. It was hard to hate somebody for so long then be forced into such a situation. And yet I also gained comfort knowing Loki was going through the same, if not worse. After all, he blamed me for the Crimson King's actions against him. Of course, I blamed him for turning one of my best friends into a monster, which he couldn't argue if he tried. But if Loki was able to look past what I had inadvertently done to him, then I should be able to, too. We both suffered considerable loss by the other's hands, and by the Crimson King's, which in its own twisted way, connected us. Hell, we'd both put up with Níðhöggr's bullshit at one point, too. Which reminded me of something I wanted to ask the fox.

"Loki," I rasped, "did you ever meet my ancestor? Baldr?"

Loki spat. "Yeah, I met him. He's nothing like you."

I wasn't sure how to take that. "How so?"

"He was an animal with no self-control. Níðhöggr let him get that way. Every so often I'd be called on to service him. I hated that tiger about as much as I hate you."

That was comforting. "What about his armour?"

The fox growled almost inaudibly. "What about it?"

"Did he ever take it off?"

"Feh! He was the only one who ever got to, though he'd usually wear most of it all the time, anyway."

"Most of it?"

"Yeah. I can remember a battle where Níðhöggr had used him, and it wasn't until he put on every last piece of his black armour where he became truly terrifying. Algol it was called; he became a demon in every sense of the word, tearing apart everything in his path, be it Black Dragon, White Dragon, or even other slaves. He hardly even seemed like a fur with that armour on, eyes glowing a deep, carmine red, snarling like a wild beast. He was...a lot like you, actually, back in Castle Midgard." I could feel Loki restraining himself, no doubt recounting every moment. It was a horrifying moment in time, even for myself; I'd beaten Loki almost beyond recognition, fucking him as I did. Of course, one could easily argue Luca wasn't anywhere near that tiger, but simply watching from afar as a monster tore into the arctic fox. Not knowing how to respond to that, I continued.

"Do you know what happened to Baldr? And to Algol?"

Loki paused for a moment as we turned a busy corner. People were talking about what'd happened earlier with Count Durham. "After a while, knowing Níðhöggr wasn't coming back, he went off on his own, abandoning the other slaves. They, of course, carried on, eventually forming a village. But I think Baldr was searching for Níðhöggr, and after being confronted by some officials, claiming he was mad, he'd donned his fierce, dragon-like helmet and slaughtered the lot of them. What Baldr didn't realize, though, was that he needed Níðhöggr to remove his helmet, or his magic anyway, and though he tried to fight it, he eventually did go mad. He went on for months without food, more or less an empty, dead shell toting around this wicked armour, until one day he was overwhelmed and thrown into Miskatonic Keep. He probably died there."

"Miskatonic Keep?" I asked. Such an unsettling name. "Where is it?"

Before Loki could answer, we rounded a corner and were suddenly halted by a mass of people by the docks checking out the bulk of the damage and the rotting corpse of Count Durham. The four of us, Valo off somewhere, wormed our way through the gawking crowds of drunk and excited people, down toward the dock. Cy was leading us, hopefully to his ship. I was still very curious, though, about this so-called Miskatonic Keep. Was it some sort of prison? Or a dungeon? Moreover, and more importantly, where was it? Was it in Midland? As I pushed past a few sailors, I was trying to recall some of the big dungeons in Midland, and the only I could come up with was the one at Midgard. And it certainly wasn't called Miskatonic Keep. In fact, I'd only ever heard it referred to as The Dungeon. After travelling for what felt like an eternity, Cy stopped in front of a fair-sized ship at what wasn't even the end of the docks yet, but far from the sinking and burning ships we'd passed before. The words Swift Kitty were etched messily onto the side, while clearly another more professionally-made name had been crudely scratched out.

"Well," he said, turning and throwing his arms up in the air, "this is it!" We all just stood there watching the young cheetah expectantly, his arms still up and paws waving around frantically. After a while, Cy finally lowered his arms and turned, waving his paw at us in a long sweeping motion, telling us to follow. And we did so obediently. Much to my amazement, Valo was already onboard, and Cy didn't seem alarmed in the least bit. In fact, he even rubbed his head before opening up the door to the cabin.

"Now," Cy explained, "my crew is off looking at the city, and probably getting drunk if they aren't already, but you guys can make yourselves at home. Umm. You'll have to sleep with them in the quarters since I don't have any of the fancy-schmancy warships that Fairfax does... But there's plenty of beds to go around. Questions?"

I raised my paw, immediately feeling stupid for doing so. I continued anyway. "How come your ship only has two masts?"

Cy frowned. "Because. Anyone else?" No one answered. "Perfect! Well, I planned to get hammered tonight alone with my rum, but since you guys are here now, I guess I should show you around or something..." Cy then lead us around his ship, showing us where we'd be sleeping, ending with a view of the Brig - the ship's prison. No one was in the cells, but there were quite a few crates of booze and probably some preserved meat. After that, he said he was going to his private room to rejoin his rum, and so Ashley, Loki and I were left to explore on our own.

"C'mon, Luca," Ashley said, pulling on my arm. "We'd better go find the good beds before Cy's crew returns."

"I think they're all the same," I said, pushing open the trap door into the quarters. The deck above us, if I remembered correctly, was the main deck, but through the other set of stairs at the farthest end led to the cabin, a big room which led to both here and the Captain's Quarters, where Cy was headed. There were a few crates and barrels in the main cabin, but not much else. I was feeling somewhat weary, then more queasy when I heard the ship creek noisily and rock heavily for a moment.

"This is pretty cool, eh, Luca? I've never been on a ship before."

I smiled at the skunk, who was holding onto my paw, pulling me along. Each hammock they called "beds" did, in fact, look the same, though upon closer inspection, many were torn. This didn't bother me, though, since I'd learned a long time ago to sleep anywhere I could stop. I finally came to rest back up in the cabin, close to the door leading out, sitting next to a crate on the floor, letting out a long, deep sigh.

"What's the matter?" Ashley asked, kneeling in front of me. Loki was hanging out on the other side of the cabin, hood still up and keeping silent.

I shook my head. "It's nothing," I said.

This time Ashley sighed, slumping down, which caused his shirt to slide down his shoulders further. A piece of loose hair was dangling in front of his left eye, which he seemed to ignore. At least he kept the rest of it still tied back. "I saw you fighting," Ashley finally said. "I mean...with Count Durham..."

Unfortunately I didn't have a reply. I just stared into his bright eyes, trying not to show him the monster I was. But I think it was too late for that. Ashley was still holding onto my big, weathered paw with his small, delicate black paws. He held it tightly.

"You are...something else," he said, though I think he was trying not to offend me. "Don't get me wrong, you did the world a favour. But..."

How many times had I heard that inevitable "but" before?

"But...you just seemed..." I think the skunk was trying to find the right words, but it would seem I'd have to help him along.

"Monstrous?"

"No!" Ashley cried, squeezing my paw tighter. "You're not a monster, you're just..."

"He's a freak," Loki suddenly spat, and I glared at him.

"He isn't that either," Ashley frowned. "You're just...you're..."

A long, horrible silence crashed through the room like the waves against the Swift Kitty. Ashley was upset, and of course Loki wasn't helping.

"You were frightening," the skunk finally said, brushing the hair from his eyes with his paw. It quickly reattached to mine, taking a firm hold once more. "At first I thought I was just seeing things - with that huge monster and everything - but when you finally killed it...I saw something far scarier than Durham was."

I knew I was supposed to be feeling guilty, but of course I felt nothing. I just kept staring at the skunk, unable to find a single word.

"That's how he's always been," Loki said, taking a step forward. "He's got a Darkness inside of him that sometimes he just can't control. Most of the lives he's taken were under the influence of this Darkness, guiding his blade at every moment. He becomes like another fur, completely malevolent and unrelenting, often to the point where he begins to enjoy the bloodshed, and even craves it. Do you want to know why Luca is so frightening? So...monstrous?"

Ashley was just staring up at Loki, who'd sauntered over slowly. He shook his head.

"Because he is a monster."

No one spoke for a long while, and Ashley was clearly bothered by this. He turned back to me, I think hoping I would deny everything. But I couldn't.

"I...can't deny what Loki said," I uttered quietly. "When I was in Hel, the Dragons sealed the Darkness away, inhibiting it. For once, I could act and fight as a regular fur. That's why I didn't kill all of Durham's men in the pub, nor his soldiers on the field. That's also why I fell over the cliff. But the seal, I think, is beginning to wear off. Those pirates were easy, and Loki..." The arctic fox and I shared a glance, and I didn't bother saying how easily I beat him, too. "Anyway, I usually hear or feel something deep within me when another monster is nearby, and I didn't even feel a twinge when Durham approached me. Which means for now, the Darkness is still sealed away, but...I wouldn't have been able to defeat a Disciple without its assistance, if even a tiny bit."

Ashley continued to just stare at me, both frightened and concerned, still squeezing my paw. "But Loki and Valo were helping you!" he cried. I think he was waiting for the silver lining, and I wasn't sure there was one.

"Ashley," a voice suddenly said from the Captain's Quarters. Cy was poking his head out the door, looking surprisingly sombre. He then glared at me. "Will you come in here, please?"

"What for?"

"I need you for something, hon. C'mon."

Ashley then sighed heavily, giving me one last, very troubled look, then released my paw. He slowly stood, lifting his dress a bit to walk over my right leg, and joined Cy in the Captain's Quarters. Cy smiled warmly at the handsome skunk, then glared at me again. Seconds later, he shut the door.

This time I sighed heavily.

"Forget it," Loki said.

I just frowned and stood up, passing the Lionheart as I left the cabin. Feeling the odd desire for fresh air, I turned and went up to the back of the ship, leaning on the ledge and taking in a huge breath. That, of course, hurt to do with my broken ribs, but I didn't let it stop me from trying again. I wasn't feeling particularly interested in watching the commotion in Fairfax, so I simply stared out into the Sea instead. Predictably, Loki joined me shortly, taking a spot next to me at the ledge. I then began to wonder if I'd ever make it back to Midland, then remembered asking the fox a question he hadn't yet answered. "You never told me how you knew all that stuff about Baldr," I stated, thinking it was fairly obvious what I expected to hear from Loki.

Loki just laughed through his nose. "If you thought about it hard enough, you'd figure it out yourself."

That didn't help at all. But before I could tell him, or threaten him, to just tell me, he continued.

"The Crimson King knew he was going to be a father, but also knew while trapped in Hel, he could never be a part of his son's life, nor any of their sons. He said for a while, he just tried to forget about it, but found himself constantly plagued by those thoughts. And so he was content to simply sit and watch them grow, for a while by simply feeling their presence, or rather, the presence of their Inner Darkness. A dozen generations had passed before the Crimson King craved more, wanting to see his children and their children, and so on. And so after a great deal of studying and meditation, he learned to sort of possess, or influence a mortal fur. After eventually finding a soul to grapple onto that was close to the Darkness he sensed, he was able to close his eyes and effectively see what that mortal saw. He's watched every generation grow up, yourself included. In fact, it was from watching Baldr that he was so easily able to defeat Níðhöggr, though he probably could have done so anyway."

"And the mortal he'd chosen to follow Baldr...how could he have stayed alive for so long?" I glanced over at Loki, who was apparently smiling. I guess despite everything, he was still fond of his King.

"Well, he would often have to find a new soul to manipulate after the first one is killed, or otherwise unable to follow any further, which was often very difficult. Sometimes the fur would have a greater will than he'd have thought, and essentially wouldn't do what the Crimson King suggested, or they would sometimes be so far away, locating his Child would be almost impossible."

A thought suddenly occurred to me, something that made my heart race uncontrollably. I felt hot and sweaty and my maw was dry. The sound of the choppy waves below seemed to blast though my ears, and I had to scrape a claw on the wood to make sure I could still hear. "So," I finally started, my voice sounding miles away, "does that mean...you know my parents?"

Loki glanced up at me, and I stared hard at him. He nodded slowly, which for a moment made my stomach turn with anxious anticipation. "But not to the emotional extent the Crimson King does."

I didn't really care how attached to them Loki was. "What were their names?" I asked excitedly, my tail flicking back and forth.

Loki shrugged, then looked out into the black sea. "Your father was named Dorian, and your mother, whom the Crimson King despised, was named Lucia."

I pondered those names for along moment, extracting nothing from them, but simply said the names over and over in my head. "What happened to them?"

"Your mother died giving birth to you, murdered by the Crimson King's minion. Of course Dorian made the fur suffer a long time for it, feeding his dark urges."

"Why?" I suddenly growled, turning my head and interrupting the fox.

"The Crimson King liked to manipulate the females he'd sent to his Children, making sure his legacy would carry on, but for reasons he could scarcely comprehend, Lucia was remarkably resistant to the King's dark influence. She didn't know it, of course; both her and Dorian were totally unaware this intense hatred had grown within the King, and frankly, never believed he existed. The Crimson King suspected direct influence from the Old Gods was to blame for Lucia's resistance, but regardless, she was the unmistakable Light to Dorian's Darkness, which enraged the Crimson King even further. But he could sense Dorian's absolute devotion to Lucia, and knew while his seed had not yet been sown, Lucia would have to live, lest his Dark Legacy end there. And so the Crimson King sat and waited, unable to do anything about their infuriating lack of child-bearing for countless years. Until one fateful night, after a long battle during the Century War - your father having fought for Maldad - Dorian and Lucia met in Concord and finally consummated their love for each other in an empty building. The Crimson King was delighted, waiting feverishly for your birth. And less than nine months later, both you and the Tiger Tail Pub were born, the owner having been close friends with Dorian. Lucia didn't last much longer after that."

Loki had such a delicate way with words.

"After Dorian dealt with the King's minion, never truly learning why he'd attacked your mother, he took you from your birthplace in the soon-to-be opened pub, and sought out his friend and rival Pennar, the otter who once led a small group of mercenaries. After much deliberation, he left you with him, having only a vague understanding of his Inner Darkness and fearing what would become of you without Lucia. A couple months later, much to the Crimson King's dismay, Dorian threw himself off the cliffs of southern Midland, into the jagged rocks below, knowing any other means of suicide would not be allowed by his Darkness. Though the Crimson King couldn't ever be certain, he presumed your father didn't want you to search for him, nor more importantly find him. I think Dorian believed he could better protect you if he was dead, his only Light having been extinguished from the world."

A gentle sea breeze blew through my fur, and I took in a deep, salty breath, sighing through my nose. I continued to stare out into the sea, unable to find any words, but kept my calm, stoic face. It was odd hearing my parents' history explained so simply. Their lives should have taken volumes to explain, and yet Loki had done it in just a few short minutes. Of course, I had to consider the Crimson King couldn't have kept an eye on my father at every moment, and the days before meeting my mother would not have been particularly important. Not as far as my parents' story goes.

"What else can you tell me about my father? Before he met my mother."

Loki shrugged. "Only what the Crimson King's told me, which I have to admit isn't a whole lot. I know he fought for Maldad most his life, for starters. He frequented Concord, and even met Lucia there; she was from Midland. He said when the War was over, he and his close friend Dex would open and run a pub together in Concord, but since there seemed to be no end to the War, Dex went ahead with it anyway. Like I said, your birth marked the official opening of his pub, naming it the Tiger Tail after you. But before all of that...your father maintained a very mundane life, for a soldier, anyway. Like you, he was born with a sword in his paw and swung it mercilessly. He travelled a lot in his youth, gaining more and more renown from every battle he fought, which frankly bored the Crimson King. I wish there was more to tell you about your father, but that's about it. He was a fierce warrior in battle, which earned him more lucrative jobs in Maldad, whether it be fending off the enemy, assassinations, or simply hammering down tough targets. Unlike you, he never came to understand his Inner Darkness, but knew he wasn't like the other soldiers, and I think sensed the evil within himself."

I was honestly expecting a story far more interesting and impressive, but I guess I couldn't have been too surprised; there were hundreds of stories just like that, from any soldier you'd meet. If I hadn't gotten involved with Kai and the late King of Midland, I probably would have ended up following much the same path. Interestingly, it would seem the Crimson King's legacy would have ended with me had things turned out differently, as far as my sexuality goes, but then again, perhaps that was why I was the one to bring about his release. After all, if I hadn't felt that initial attraction to Kai, he probably would have gone back to Concord with his brother and none of this would have happened. Then again, I may not have set out on the quest to save the children to begin with, which would have released the King. So perhaps there was something to this whole idea of Fate after all. I just shook my head at the thought, then sighed again. It was kind of amusing to think one of my most frequented pubs was, after all, named after me, despite always despising the name of the place. It then occurred to me that the owner of the Tiger Tail would have undoubtedly known my father, and my mother, probably a lot more intimately than the Crimson King did. Unless it was a different owner. Perhaps we could stop off in Concord before seeking the Crimson King, and hopefully find Algol before that. Which of course instantly reminded me of an unfinished conversation Loki and I had started.

"Do you know where this Miskatonic Keep is?" I asked the fox, turning to him.

Loki yawned. "Not exactly, no. When the Crimson King managed to influence the closest fur to Baldr, he'd already been taken to the Keep and thrown into its darkest pit."

I growled quietly. "Damn it..."

"Why? You're not...looking for Algol, are you?"

I didn't answer the arctic fox.

Loki shook his head. "It takes some powerful black magic to release you from its grip, and I wouldn't count on Níðhöggr tearing the helmet from your skull. Besides which, I can't imagine why you'd want to put on that armour, given all you've been through. Most of your ancestors enjoyed the emergence of their Inner Darkness, despite how it made them feel when they snapped out of it. But you don't. Your father didn't really either, but he'd hardly begun to realize exactly what it was before he killed himself."

Char had warned me about Algol's power, too, but I hadn't really considered it. But if Loki was warning me about it - though he had good reason to - then perhaps there was a reason to reconsider. But I had been beaten so easily by the Crimson King, if I wanted to stand any sort of chance, I needed something more. I needed Nosferatu, though I hated to admit it. But...considering what had happened to Baldr, I could easily suffer much the same fate. I hated Nosferatu passionately, and yet my only plan to defeat the King was wearing an armour which would bring it out to its fullest extent. This contradiction irritated me, but more so was my admission to needing that which I hated most. But there wasn't any other way, none that I could think of. Was there...perhaps a way to control Algol? I would no doubt need Níðhöggr for that, but finding him could be harder than finding the armour. Would another Dragon possess the wisdom to control such an evil power? I just growled quietly, then sighed. Finding Algol would of course be the first trick, and if I did, I could just as easily neglect to wear a piece. If what Loki had said was true, I could simply avoid wearing the helmet and still be my normal self. I never really wore helmets, anyway.

Suddenly Loki leaned up and pushed himself away from the ship's ledge. "Well," he said as he turned, "I'm going to get a drink."

"Wait," I said, holding out a paw. "Um... Thanks. For telling me about my parents, and for warning me about Algol. I, uh...appreciate it."

Loki did that little nod again, implying a smile and "no problem," then we paused for a long moment. "Care to join me?" the fox finally asked, and I nodded more excitedly than I meant to. But I followed him into the cabin and in to the bunkhouse, seeing no signs of Ashley. I guess he was still talking to Cy, probably being calmed down. We continued along, Loki leading me into the brig, where he cracked open a crate full of booze and tossed me a bottle. We probably weren't supposed to breaking into these boxes, but no one was around. And before I could open my bottle, Loki had already started his, taking a seat on a barrel in one of the cells. He let out a long sigh and leaned back, bottle hanging from his paw. The ship groaned noisily as the cork sprang from my bottle, and soon found myself sitting on the floor, next to Loki's seat, drinking in much the same fashion as he.

"Usually when I drink," I said as clearly as I could manage, already through half the bottle; this was quality stuff, "there's a buncha other furs around...and they all wanna fight."

Loki glanced down, but didn't say anything. He took another swig and said, "Do you want me to fight you?"

I laughed, even though it wasn't very funny, then shook my head. I wasn't usually such a lightweight when it came to drinking, but on an empty stomach, it doesn't take me long. I had to concentrate for a moment, trying to get the cell to stop spinning. "Nah," I said, pouring more vile alcohol down my throat, warming my gut instantly. I then sighed contently and leaned my head back into the steel cage, bottle dangling from a single digit jammed into the top. The stench of alcohol quickly filled our little cage, and probably the whole brig, as my empty rolled toward another cage and another full bottle of booze replaced it. It wasn't long before I found Loki had somehow melted off his barrel and was sitting messily beside me, myself jammed into the corner of the cage. I didn't seem to mind, and neither did he. Neither one of us spoke, but would every so often give each other these increasingly less awkward glances, turning away instantly. And with every large mawful of this mind-numbing nectar, our comfort levels grew considerably.

"You know," Loki said, his words far more slurred than that, "I'm...sorta glad this worked out. You know...this, here." In retrospect, it was odd seeing him like that.

I turned my head to the fox, my mind - or this room - spinning out of control, taking a seemingly long time to focus. When I finally locked on to his white-furred face, I just stared at him with barely a word to say. I think I was wearing a dumb-founded sort of face, maw agape with the slightest smile. My eyes were only half open. I was glad, too, I thought to myself, and without speaking, I found my paw moving up toward Loki, landing on his left thigh, the leg half draped over mine. He just stared at me, possibly blushing, and I stared at him. Was I...really doing this?

Loki then turned away, his paw on mine. Was I blushing, too? My face was already warm from the alcohol, and probably bright red from it, too. Although his hood was up, he didn't do a very good job of hiding his smile. I giggled stupidly when he turned back to me, and though it may have more than likely been the alcohol, leaned in and pressed my lips against his. The fox struggled momentarily, but soon our fingers clasped and we melted into drunken bliss. I heard both our bottles crash against the wood floor, and a sudden whiff of the spilling booze. Though it could've also been my breath. In the moment our lips mashed together, our tongues took no time to find one another, both of us tiling our heads. I closed my eyes, and if Loki was anywhere as close to the same condition I was in, it would help stop our heads from spinning. The fox was an amazingly good kisser, if you could even call this booze-soaked mess a kiss, and I seemed to forget exactly who he was. I knew he was Loki, the arctic fox no longer able to wield his powerful magic, but all the horrible things he'd done seemed so insignificant. When our lips finally parted, my heart was pounding, and I think his was, too.

Our eyes met, and though we could barely keep them open, we both saw something I don't think we ever thought would be possible. It wasn't anything close to what you would call "love," mind you, but it was something far more than a reluctance to work together. Our noses then bumped together, and with far more control than before, we kissed again, making less of a mockery of it. As the fox and I kissed, the alcohol strong on his breath, and no doubt mine as well, Loki found his way onto my lap, straddling both my legs. His paws were on my chest, gripping at my shirt and a bit of chest fur beneath, hips seeming to grind into nothing. Nothing yet, anyway. And still we exchanged intoxicating breaths, our obvious drunkenness not doing a thing to slow us down. We pulled apart once more, sharing a drunk, amorous gaze. With Loki's paws now flat on my chest, he lowered his head and moved one down, getting a good feel for my muscular body.

When both his paws fell around my waist, the arctic fox was quick to slip his paws under my shirt and feel upward, up along my abs and back over my chest, now suggesting for me to lift my arms, and I did so obediently. I laughed stupidly as my shirt flew through my arms and landed someplace, and then Loki pulled back his hood and removed his own shirt and cloak. Both my paws ran up his slim sides, then up his chest and attaching to his shoulders, pulling the small fox down and into a third kiss, which felt perfectly natural by this point. The two of us giggled incoherently as we pulled apart, bumping heads and paws all over each other's chests. Loki had, at some point, picked up a half-drained bottle of alcohol and took yet another big swig, then held it above my head and began to pour, and I was amazingly coherent enough to catch it in my maw and swallow, though not enough to keep going for very long. Eventually I choked and it came pouring down my chin and chest. Loki laughed uproariously then tossed the empty bottle aside and murred loudly, head bumping against mine again. I then noticed both his paws down at my drawstrings, and within moments his paws were down there, the fox groaning with the ship as I quickly became erect.

I just giggled as he forced my pants down further, purring quietly, myself shifting awkwardly to help him along. I now wore my pants somewhere below my rear, crotch perfectly exposed. Never one to be slowed down, I raised my paws and performed a similar act upon Loki's pants, and he did this very sensual grind forward, lifting himself in such a way that I could remove his pants completely, but have him somehow still stay close to me. It was probably a far less interesting act than I could recall, that much alcohol on an empty stomach mostly serving to decrease my capacity to remember simple things. But I found moments later, Loki had somehow removed my pants completely. Again, I'm certain it was no mystery, but I could hardly remember how such an act was performed. Nevertheless, Loki and I sat together in this tiny metal cell, both more than content to be so close.

"I really appreciate," the fox said unintelligibly, and if I wasn't so drunk I probably wouldn't have understood a word, "you bein' so...good to me...even though I was so bad to you."

Not wanting to hear much more of this, I kissed the fox. He moaned loudly, and with my paws on his hips, I easily guided him until his small tailhole hovered above my spiny tigermeat. But Loki seemed about as intoxicated with my tongue as he was with the booze, and didn't even notice when I began to push him downward. But I noticed. It felt surprisingly good, his warm, tight insides slowly enveloping my precum-covered shaft. I never would have expected this from the fox, much less being in this situation to begin with. But after a couple inches, Loki finally noticed, and broke our kiss with at first a loud gasp, then a long, pleasured moan, his paws finding a new home on my shoulders. He threw back his head in what I assumed was drunken ecstasy, until I found his bottom pressed against my body. He gripped tightly at my shoulders, murring loudly and giggling like a drunk. I was giggling, too.

"Like that?" I teased, but soon Loki had wrapped his arms around me, holding on close and moving his hips up and down slowly. He was whining in my ear, whimpering as his bum began to slide back down. He now groaned into my ear, bum planted firmly against my hips once more.

"Oooh," he moaned, "Luca..." The small arctic fox then rose up once more, continuing in such a motion slowly, arms still wrapped around my shoulders and the side of his face mashed against mine, as well as our chests.

My paws now rested at the small of Loki's back, sort of guiding him along, though he hardly needed it. I moaned along with the fox, and giggled, his small tailhole feeling oddly familiar. I couldn't place the familiarity in my inebriated state, but it felt amazing, both physically and emotionally; it was more difficult to place the emotional feeling. Regardless, I showed my appreciation with a few subtle bucks, Loki still whimpering in my ear, as well as nibbling on it. He slid his body quite slowly still, up and down my shaft as if preserving the moment. He held onto me so tight, so...lovingly. Even in my drunken state, I could sense it was a different kind of "lovingly," one that wasn't being directed entirely toward me. It seemed almost as if he'd been in this exact position before, or one very similar, and was reliving that memory. Of course, I had no idea where this feeling came from. But Loki was so completely into this, in a much different way than I was. But given I was so drunk, I couldn't begin to pinpoint exactly how into it he was. It was just...different.

But that, of course, changed when he leaned back and stared into my eyes, and I simply stared back. Now, I hadn't known alcohol to be much of an aphrodisiac, but despite being all way inside the little arctic fox, I was far more aroused now than I had been. I leaned forward and kissed Loki once again, very passionately, this time not stopping there. I leaned forward enough so the fox began to lean back, and somehow in my stupor, I'd managed to get the fox down upon his back, myself hanging above him. My paws rested on either side of his head, and his legs seemed to have been wrapped around my waist, footpaws no doubt locked somewhere above my tail. After the brig stopped spinning, and after catching a generous whiff of alcohol and male scent, I began to pump forward. Loki moaned loudly, raising both paws until they clasped behind my neck, using that bit of leverage to pull his body down into my hips, which were dutifully pounding into his body.

"Ooh, God!" the fox cried, which made me laugh for some reason, eyes closed tight yet clearly enjoying this. If I had even one more sip of alcohol, I would have no doubt been crying out to the heavens, too, but I managed to restrain myself that much. I could feel Loki's strong legs moving, trying to push into me harder, and I obliged. The foul stench of booze hung in the air thicker than the metal slats of our cell, blending with our masculine musk, creating a very familiar scene. I continued to pound the fox relentlessly, now breathing very heavily and barely able to contain my drool. I grunted and groaned like a drunk, until suddenly I felt that twinge, that subtle feeling that tells you your climax is fast approaching. Of course, with innards as tight as this, I was surprised I was able to contain myself this long. Loki still clung to me tightly, moaning and calling out my name every so often, however slurred, very visibly in complete rapture.

Suddenly I snarled, that little warning becoming stronger. My precum was lubricating Loki's bowels more than necessary, which made my spines less of a concern, which of course made it easier to speed up. And after a short while, that warning was rendered moot; a powerful orgasm suddenly slammed into my nethers, causing me both to roar and to crash forward. I held myself tight against Loki's body, snarling as the intense pleasure rushed through my body, firing my cum deep within the fox's belly. Loki, too, let out a booming moan, head grinding back with total bliss. A couple more powerful thrusts later, and I was totally empty. Loki and I held our positions, panting heavily and giggling messily. Evidently, the fox had climaxed all over his belly, though I could have easily been mistaken. Either way, after a long moment, I finally pulled out, Loki's body melting off me and onto the floor. With the faint afterglow washing over us, we giggled some more and I simply sat back against the cage, tigermeat making its sloppy way back into its sheath. Loki quivered as he sat up, crawling toward me with blush in his cheeks and a smile on his face. He crawled between my legs and turned himself, snuggling comfortably into my chest, and I simply wrapped my arms around him and closed my tired eyes, licking the back of his head then resting my chin against between his ears. Loki was murring quietly, myself purring as I held the fox. I felt very calm and very happy holding Loki in my arms, which would have probably seemed more strange had I not been under the influence.

Loki scritched at my chest gently as we both shifted and became more comfortable, neither of us having a care in the world. With a long, satisfied sigh, I closed my eyes. At that moment I felt very accomplished, despite how short I'd lasted, which was typical. But happy with that, the fox and I slowly fell asleep together, murring and purring respectively. This was the first peaceful rest I'd gotten in a long time.

As always, my eyes opened with a surprise, but this time they also opened with a splitting headache. I groaned horribly and shifted around, quickly noticing Loki was still within my arms. I made another strange groan, suggestive of "what the hell?" Apparently that was enough to stir the arctic fox awake, and he gave similar groans to me, then looked up at me.

Loki was blushing intensely as our gazes caught, neither of us able to move.

"Um..." I started, but couldn't get much further than that.

Loki just planted his face into his shoulder, and after a moment, pried himself from my arms and looked about awkwardly for our clothes. But the moment the fox found his shirt, we were both alerted by a noise at the cell's entrance.

A naked cheetah stood before us, looking less than amused, paws on his hips. I had never seen a frown more definite than his. Finally Cy spoke. "Firstly, you owe me for all the booze you two drank. Secondly, Luca, be glad I came down here tonight looking for more wine, or you'd have a very upset skunk on your paws."

I could barely comprehend the words Cy was saying, given the massive headache pounding away at my skull. He then took an empty bottle and bashed it against the cage for a horribly long time, causing me to groan painfully. Loki just growled.

"Poor Ashley has the greatest respect for you," Cy told me, "though it's hard to see why."

I growled quietly.

Cy then turned. "We're launching in less than an hour, and if you want me to take you anywhere, I expect you to pull your weight around here." The cheetah then left Loki and I alone in the brig.

The two of us just stared at the trapdoor for a long time before finally continuing our search for clothes, finally putting them on with nary a word spoken. Despite my headache, I felt...odd about our situation. I hadn't ever expected to get along with Loki long enough to travel together, much less have sex with. And yet as I slipped my shirt on, that reality was becoming more and more clear. I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, leaning against the outside of the cage while Loki put on his cloak, trying to concentrate. How did it even happen? When I looked about, I saw at least ten empty bottles of booze littered about, though I could only recall drinking a couple. I groaned again, rubbing my head. When Loki approached, I looked over at him. "You okay?" I asked.

Loki just grunted, wearing his typical scowl. Part of me assumed that was caused by his headache, though a greater part assumed it was his intense disdain for what we'd done. I felt somewhat queasy from it, too, though like most of my problems this morning, it was likely just the alcohol. I could remember most of what happened, at least the important bits, but could not for the life of me recall just how we'd gotten into that situation. We'd bonded, for sure, after fighting Count Durham, but this was a connection on a whole other level. A connection that would last a long, long time, whether we wanted it to or not. When I glanced over at the arctic fox, who was resting for a moment and holding his head, it was hard to picture us doing what we did, and yet here we were. I didn't feel particularly dirty about it, but by the same token, I didn't feel all that great about it either. I didn't feel anything about it, really. I could remember feeling extremely happy when we were doing it, ecstatic even, physically of course, but emotionally as well. His small, slim, white-furred body aroused me way more than I care to admit, and his insides...warm, smooth, and surprisingly tight; perfection. When I glanced over to Loki again, he shot me his famous scowl. Yes, at the time, I had no worries, so long as we were together. But now...my typical emptiness. Loki didn't seem particularly happy about it, either.

"Um..." I said again, the talented wordsmith I was.

Loki was still shooting that rotten look at me, but it soon melted. He sighed, then paced toward me, head down low. Moments later, somewhat surprisingly, the fox pressed his body against mine, paws gripping somewhere around my shoulders. I just put an arm around his back, patting gently. "What did we do?" the fox said. I was reasonably sure I wasn't supposed to answer.

I just shook my head. "Nothing that we can take back now."

"God damn it," Loki said, grinding his head into my chest. "I didn't think we'd ever become so...attached."

"Me either," I spoke, hoping he was talking only about the sex. If he was developing feelings for me, he was probably going to hate me even more.

"Why the fuck did we have to drink together?" he groaned, looking up at me. I just gave him a cold stare. "You don't...feel a thing, do you."

I debated whether or not I should lie, but I think I could only get into trouble that way. "No," I finally admitted. But I felt I needed to add more.

Loki sighed. "I figured as much. So...what was it we did? I mean..."

"It wasn't really anything. It was two furs - two drunk furs - who needed companionship, and above all odds, somehow came together."

The arctic fox stared into my chest, seeming to contemplate those words. His eyes were darting around, I think trying to piece things together. "Yeah," he finally said, eyes still flitting around. "I guess you're right." Loki then pulled away from me slowly, paws sliding down my chest until they simply dangled at his sides, head held low.

Feeling an odd pang of what could have been guilt, I held his head up with my paw on his chin, leaning forward. "You aren't so bad," I managed to say. It wasn't the greatest compliment, but it seemed to make the fox blush and smile all the same. "I know it's strange, but all things considered, you're a great guy. You're a strong fighter, a passionate lover, and personally, I think you're, um...kinda sexy." Then I shrugged.

This really made Loki blush, and I could see he was trying to turn away, but stopped himself. I think I'd gotten used to seeing a little hue on his white-furred face, since it just made me smile. I then leaned in further a bit more, apparently unable to control myself, and kissed the fox. It wasn't a very long kiss, but it was gentle and very sweet. When we finally pulled apart, the fox gave my stomach a gentle rub and we left to join the others.

I met up with a happy skunk and he, Loki and I left the ship briefly to eat. And to get cheap ale to cure of us our headaches. Ashley asked what Loki and I did the previous night, since he'd spent it catching up with Cy, and I regretfully told him everything besides the sex. I didn't know how Ashley would handle that bit of news, whether he'd be offended, jealous, or just plain disgusted. But after a decent breakfast of meat and ale, the three of us rejoined a naked Cy on his ship - naked all except for a red bandana around his head, calling orders to his men who were surprisingly sober. Sober enough, anyway, to get the ship going and away from the docks. I just stood around like a moron, watching the others tie and pull on ropes, and probably a lot of other things I'd be essentially useless at.

Much to my surprise, Cy was in a better mood than when he'd seen me less than an hour ago, and after a while, was irritatingly joyful. This, apparently, wasn't unusual, and most sea captains found his demeanour ‘disturbing and unseemly.' But after leaving the port and heading into more open waters, I found I had come to tolerate it much easier. He mostly stayed on the upper part of the ship, footpaw up on the railing and overlooking his busy crew, barking orders flamboyantly. I'd joined Loki and Ashley on the upper part of the deck with him, though we were hanging out mostly at the stern of the ship. Stern, of course, was a term I'd learned recently. It was a little refreshing to feel the cool, salty breeze of the open sea blowing through my fur, and I couldn't help but smile.

"I can't believe I'm on a ship!" Ashley suddenly cried, holding onto my arm and thoroughly enjoying the experience. Cy then approached, not glaring at me for a change.

"Hey, guys," he said, extending the vowels obnoxiously. "How do you like my ship?" he asked Ashley enthusiastically, and the skunk answered excitedly. "Oh, good," Cy responded. "'Cause we're gonna be sailing for a few days, if not more."

Something then occurred to me. "Have you heard of Miskatonic Keep?" I asked the travelling cheetah suddenly, and he just stared blankly at me for a moment.

"Yeah," he answered suspiciously, "why?"

"Do you know where it is?"

"Why, do you wanna go there?" Ashley then asked apprehensively.

"Place is haunted, y'know," Cy added. "They say the ghosts of a thousand furs live there, each one more horrible and murderous than the next."

"Ghosts aren't real," I argued.

"Just like the Crimson King," the skunk pointed out, giving me a sly grin.

I opened my maw, but shut it immediately. That seemed to stop me from arguing further. I just frowned.

"What about Crimson King?" the naked cheetah asked.

"Nothing," Ashley replied. "Just an inside joke."

"Ooh, I love jokes!" Cy suddenly yelped, smacking his paws together.

"I'll tell you later," Ashley said, patting his friend on the shoulder. "Do you want to go there?" the skunk then asked, turning back to me.

I nodded hesitantly. "Yeah...I do. That's where we'll find Algol."

"The Dragon Armour?" Cy asked, surprised.

I nodded again.

"Feh, you know what I heard? I heard that armour'll make you crazy. They say it's cursed."

I wasn't sure who They is, but They sure seemed to know a lot.

"I just want to check the place out," I lied, and when I glanced over to Ashley, he was giving me a worried look. The skunk hadn't struck me as the superstitious sort, but it seemed he easily believed anything Cy said, including the Keep was haunted and the armour was cursed. Of course, one could easily argue the latter, but neither of them knew that for sure. Not like Loki and I, anyway. When I turned to Loki, it seemed he'd gone off somewhere in the middle of this conversation, and when Cy glanced upward with just his eyes, I saw the solitary fox standing lookout above the crow's nest, balancing expertly on his paws and footpaws at the very tip of the mast; apparently standing IN the crow's nest just wasn't enough.

"Well I'd love to take you there," Cy said with his arms crossed, "but there's a few problems with that. One, no one's been there in decades, maybe even centuries, which means if they have any sort of dock left, it'll be with the fishes now. And, uh...we don't really have a raft." I frowned at the latter point. "But also," the cheetah continued, "and I think more importantly, I have no idea where it is."

This time I frowned harder. But the fact he pointed out a dock implied it was along a coastline somewhere, which would narrow down my search considerably. But the fact he had no idea where it was implied it was either further away than he'd ever travelled, or it was a very hidden location. Or he was just scared and lying to me. But perhaps it was further inland, in a dense forest, even, and the prisoners would have to walk or hike to it from the dock. Of course, having a few rafts would eliminate that problem easily, but apparently when Cy was stealing this ship, he neglected to save them. But there was no point in brooding about it when I didn't even know where the place was. The only person I could rely on for that information, of course, was Keefe's father Tiberius, and we had to get back to Midland for that.

When I idly looked back up at Loki, I noticed from far up he was staring down at me. When I could actually focus my eyes, the salty wind blasting them endlessly, I saw a puzzled look on his face, but also inquisitive. I was trying to read his eyes or his face as best I could from way down here, but it was difficult. I think he was trying to tell me something, but I stared back, both Cy and Ashley wondering what our problems were. Suddenly Loki fell from his perch, expertly grabbing ropes as he acrobatically swung back down to the main deck. He approached me calmly, then gave me that look again.

"What is it?" Ashley asked.

"You don't sense it?" Loki asked me.

"Sense...what?"

Loki lifted his nose a bit, ears perked like he was listening for something. "That particular chill in the air? That certain sense of urgency you get whenever they're around?"

I just furrowed my brow, staring at the arctic fox.

"Disciples," Loki growled, frowning at me.

"You mean one of those monsters like Count Durham?" Ashley asked excitedly. He stood ready for something, despite the relative calmness of everything. Hell, the sun was even shining.

Loki quickly nodded.

"Well it's not one of my men," Cy insisted with a look of seriousness. "I would know if it was one of my men."

"Then maybe it's you."

"Hey," Ashley frowned, stepping forward. "Cy's not a monster. None of us are..." The skunk drifted off with his last few words, then slowly glanced up at me, then the other two, and I just frowned. There was a long, uncomfortable pause before Loki started up again.

"I don't think it is one of your men, or I'd have sensed it already. So would Valo."

Valo, who was standing nearby, just made a noise when his name was mentioned.

"Plus he'd have taken one look at Luca and tried to kill him," Ashley added eagerly.

"Maybe, unless he was turned off by the sight of Durham's mutilated body. Nevertheless, I can feel something now, and it isn't going away."

"What should we do?" Cy asked.

Loki shrugged. "Nothing we can do, really, except wait for it to reveal itself."

"You mean when it's smashing my ship apart?"

The arctic fox frowned. We all just stood around for a moment longer, until Cy was distracted by one of his men and went to snap a few colourful orders.

"Do you think it'll attack?" Ashley asked me.

"I don't know," I said, rubbing his back. It was then I realized he was wearing an expensive white-gold chain around his neck, and when I followed it along, noticed it had a small jewelled trinket hanging just below his collar bone. "What's this?" I asked him.

Ashley held the jewel with both paws and blushed. "Something Cy gave me last night. I was admiring it one day a long time ago, and Cy said he'd get me one just like it. Well...he stole it from Count Durham the last time he left, and held onto it all these years ‘cause he said he knew someday he'd get the chance to give it to me. Oh, Luca," the skunk said, holding onto my paw now, "you have no idea how sweet-"

We were suddenly interrupted by a disturbing crash at the side of the ship, and when we finally got our senses together, looked over the side. An enormous shadow within the sea just vanished, and I felt a tingling at the back of my neck - Nosferatu, perhaps? Moments later, a crash at the other side of the ship, and suddenly Cy's men were in a panic.

Cy looked back at us, then again to his men. "Get us out of here!" he snarled, holding a rope but still at his place above the rest.

Within moments, an enormous sail unravelled itself along the centre mast, and I could feel the _Kitty_f quickly becoming more swift. I, and I think the rest of the crew, suddenly froze when we heard an extremely loud, yet distant, scream come from somewhere. Crashing through the waves, most of us stood paralysed, I think waiting for something to happen. But we just heard a few more horrible cries then suddenly, an attack at the back of the ship. When I turned, I thought I saw a tentacle of some kind suddenly disappear back into the water, but when I ran over to look, all I saw was the ship's crashing wake. But I didn't need Nosferatu to tell me I should probably arm myself. I suddenly took off, ignoring the others' questions, and burst into the cabin, nabbing my sword from the floor. When I reappeared, Ashley was looking at me very concerned.

"Go get your sword," I told the young skunk.

"And mine, too, sweetheart!" Cy called from above. Ashley frowned at his naked friend, but ran into the Captain's Quarters and retrieved the weapons, tossing Cy's up to him. The thin feline quickly strapped on the sword-bearing harness, in just enough time to get chilled from another terrifying scream and knocked over by a boat-rocking attack. Ashley rushed up and helped his friend up, Loki doing the same for me.

"What the hell is this?" I asked the fox, shouting over the whipping winds and the crashing water. The sky had begun to darken, too. The crew were all shouting to one another, too, working feverishly to keep the ship going.

"An aquatic Disciple?" Loki said, not sounding too sure of himself. "Fuck if I know..."

Suddenly I saw Valo appear, and though he frightened some of the crew, they figured out quickly he was no threat to them. The black hound was growling ferociously, eyes glowing a deep red. He knew something was up, too, something unnatural. Again the Swift Kitty was attacked, this time from what felt like below. Again we were shaken, but had no choice but to stand around to see what happens.

Cy then growled, and stood up on his railing. "Load the cannons!" he bellowed, pointing at one group of busy furs. "We'll blow this thing clean outta the water if we have to."

Both Loki and I knew that would be useless, but figured it wasn't our place to say.

"At the first sign of it," the cheetah said, "blow it the fuck away!"

"Aye!" his crew replied in unison, then got busy with the four cannons on deck. But just as the last cannon was prepped, the ship began to rumble ominously, and a terrifying screech came from all around us, the water bubbling and hammering up against the sides. We all just tried to keep our balance, then seconds later, the explosive sound of cannon fire blasted through my ears. Water sprayed wildly, then suddenly something shot out from the surface. It hung beside the ship for just a moment before crashing down, the long, thick tentacle crushing a cannon.

But rather than stand there and stare at it like the others, while a couple other arms rose up out of the water, I growled and leapt off the banister Cy had his footpaw on, crying out as I heaved my sword downward, slicing the arm in two. I heard a terrifying scream and all arms flailed about, then suddenly the Kitty sped up. It would seem this monster had attached itself to the hull of the ship, which explained why its arms could move at the exact same speed. But it soon recovered and was trailing behind, making no time at all in catching up. A few of its arms hooked onto the back of the ship, and began to pull itself up. Loki and Cy attacked it immediately, though had to jump back when a couple more arms attacked. The arms had what looked like fins on it, and hard spines every metre or so probably to keep them rigid and taut, obviously useful for swimming. But I hurriedly attacked again, snarling as my blade sliced through its slick flesh easily, then swung up to block an attack. It was difficult, though, to keep my balance when I was on a slippery, sloping surface, despite the use of my claws. And just as the deck became more unstable, I noticed between a couple arms gripping the stern the monster's face, which looked somewhat shark-like, except above its nasty, pointy mouth was multitudes of red, beady eyes sticking out from dozens and dozens of foot-long stalks, and a wicked red tongue sloshing about in its maw. But as it tried to pull itself up onto the ship even further, I growled and got up, lunging toward it. I used gravity, as well as my own strength, to thrust the Lionheart downward, jamming the massive blade straight into the centre of all its eyes, keeping my footpaws on the back railing to keep myself from falling in.

And as expected, the monster cried out horribly and thrashed about, finally slamming one of its thick arms into me and knocking me back, fortunately with the Lionheart. But as soon as I got up, it began to attack the ship much more vigorously, pounding the sides relentlessly. It roared noisily as it attacked, and all around me I could hear Ashley and Cy shouting out, as well the rest of the crew, and couldn't even see where Loki was. The water was crashing about violently, almost deafening, and though for now all I could do was defend myself, it took some time before I noticed how dark the sky had become. I was then forced to lift the Lionheart above my head, protecting myself from falling chunks of ship, growling as I pushed it off me. Though the Swift Kitty was clearly designed to take a beating, likely built extra thick, if this kept up we'd have no masts, no sails, and certainly no ship. Again and again the cannons roared, serving only to irritate the massive beast further, but did nothing to slow it down. Even cutting through its arm seemed useless, though it did far more damage.

"We need to get the hell out of here!" Cy cried to no one in particular, then dashed to his left to avoid a downward-slamming arm. And just as he landed, I felt it was necessary to crush the arm beneath my blade, snarling as its blood splashed onto the deck.

"Pin it to the ship," someone suddenly snarled, and when I looked up, I saw Loki standing with a huge bottle of booze in his paw. I figured he probably wasn't drunk, though couldn't imagine what he was planning. But it had to be something.

I gave Cy a nod, and he told his men to go along with it, and so when the monster tried once more to climb up the side of the ship, as if trying to capsize us, I snarled as I thrust the Lionheart down into one of its arms, and I felt the blade strike wood. It, of course, cried out, trashing around but unable to remove its arm. The others were unsuccessful in their attempt, though I did see Ashley on the other side of the tentacle, looking frighteningly fierce as he rammed his sword into the arm, helping me keep it there. Cy did the same with both of his, and when I looked up, I saw Loki light a rag sticking into the bottle of alcohol. And before I could truly contemplate his plan, he'd thrown it downward, and within seconds, a huge fireball erupted in the monster's face, spreading quickly down its body and other arms. It screamed viciously, trying desperately to pull away, even tearing its own flesh from our swords. And just as another bottle exploded onto its face, the monster gave one hard pull on its arm beneath me, cleaving it in two halves and retreating into the water. It continued to make horrible moaning, screeching sounds until it faded.

Shortly after recovery, Cy urged us once more to get the hell out of there, though the main mast had been badly damaged. So badly, in fact, it created enormous drag in the water - more so than the monster had - and after a short while, we drifted on without it.

"Fuck!" Cy snarled, holding his head. Ashley was close behind him, rubbing his shoulder, while Loki and I sat on the stairs leading down to the main deck. "We have to dock for repairs," he said angrily, "but I have no idea where the hell we are now."

The skies were still dark and menacing, and the winds howled chillingly through our fur. And still Cy's remaining crew worked hard to keep us going, visibly tired and stressed. Before today, they'd undoubtedly seen nothing even close to this before, and would probably have nightmares for weeks. But we continued to tote along through the black, choppy waves, unnerved by the thickening clouds. Just as the ship got going in a steady, albeit slow, pace, we were petrified by a slight rumbling. After a long moment, we finally got our weapons, not wanting to fight this thing again, or another one just like it. And so we stood breathless, ready for a fight. But when we heard a deafening scream and what sounded like an explosion in the water behind us, we felt far less inclined to fight; the monster was back, or perhaps its mother, more than twice the size than what we'd seen and far more fierce. It was catching up fast, and before we could react, had already clung to the ship, swiping its arms across and demolishing the remaining mast, as well as sweeping several more men off the side.

I attacked its arm feverishly, then another, and before slicing into a third, it slammed an arm down on me, then suddenly jammed two arms into the sides of the ship, or so it felt, pulling us down easily. But when I opened my eyes, Ashley was attacking it ferociously, surprisingly nimble for wearing a skirt. Both he and Cy were working together brilliantly as Loki helped me up. But all of us were back down on our rears once more as one of its enormous arms slammed into the side of the ship, turning it easily and shoving us back, like pushing a drunkard into a wall. Except there was no wall to stop us. The ship was battered relentlessly, and for now, all we could do was hold on. When it backed off for a moment, we stood for just long enough to see it hurtling toward us, going to ram it. But I was quick to pull up a wayward sword and quickly turn, launching the blade toward the beast's face. Though I'd struck it dead-on, it barely faltered and still rammed the side of the ship, nearly causing us to capsize. Just as the ship rebalanced itself, the giant monster vanished once more, only this time it attacked us from below. It struck the ship in tune with a sudden crack of thunder, and I could feel us rise somewhat out of the water. The ship was creaking and cracking and breaking loudly, and as soon as we sunk back down, we seemed to drift in one direction. And this happened once more until a thunderous crash rang through our ears, and the Kitty was immediately halted, sending us flying forward; everything suddenly went dark. The thunder and lightning exploded and lit up the blackened sky, crashing loudly with the waves and the wind.

When we finally came to our senses, we looked about, noticing huge pieces of ship missing and huge, jutting rocks piercing the hull. When we looked back out at sea, the huge monster was screaming and swimming about anxiously, as if waiting for us to dive after it. But we stood there for a long moment, catching our breath and our sanity, uncertain of our next move.

"Who the fuck put this island here?" Cy said feverishly, holding his head. He wasn't his usual energetic and flamboyant self.

"Captain!" we suddenly heard through the whipping winds. It would seem a few of Cy's crew had also survived on another part of the ship, also embedded within these jagged rocks. "I think there's a way onto the island," he shouted, and Cy suddenly shot up.

"How?" he called back.

"We'll hafta scale somma' the rocks, but I think they're crowded enough to make it onto land..."

Cy turned back to us, asking us with his eyes what we thought.

Ashley seemed the most worried, and he just looked at me. I think he was concerned about his ability to climb dangerous rocks in a dress; apparently traipsing through dense forest is his limitation.

"You can hang onto me," I said as I slowly stood up. "Either that or remove your dress entirely."

The skunk frowned at me, then glanced up at the rocks. It was clear in his eyes he didn't want to go, and I couldn't blame him. Even if we made it onto the island, it was dark and foreboding enough to keep anyone away. Even I was having my doubts, but since it was either that or try to fight the monster in the water, or just stay here and starve to death, I'd take my chances on the island. After gathering up the little gear we had left - mostly just our weapons - we slowly and carefully made our way toward the front of the ship, which had been completely separated from the stern. After meeting up with the two remaining crewmen, they filled us in on our dangerous path and we got started, making no attempts to hurry.

The cold, dark water below splashed mercilessly at our legs as we scaled the jagged spires, moving inch by inch very cautiously, myself with the added burden of a frightened skunk, as well as the Lionheart. But after what felt like hours of hard, torturous work, and after climbing what seemed like a sheer cliff face, one by one each of us made it onto land, breathing heavily and getting well-deserved rest by some trees. Thunder cracked and roared, highlighting the twisted and decaying woods around us, which only got thicker further in. When I looked back out over the sea, Cy's ship and the jagged rocks seeming so far away now, I noticed several creatures lurking in the water, as if plotting how to get us down. I then turned back to the others, thankful that was over. Of course, the next step was to figure out how to get off this island, and how to get off without being attacked. But no one looked particularly thoughtful, so I, too, just kept my maw shut, looking about as we rested.

The forest in front of us looked familiar, or rather, like I'd visited a place just like it once before. The trees looked withered and dead, and yet still teeming with life. I could see small creatures dashing from thorny bush to bush, eyeing us, not too sure yet what to make of these newcomers. If this was an island, and I had every reason to believe it was, then it was very probable that it was entirely enveloped by Hel, and these creatures have never seen a fur before. I could see their deep red eyes staring, trying to decide whether they should attack us, or just stay in the shadows. So far, they stuck to their hiding places.

"Do you know where we are?" Cy then asked one of his crew.

"No, sir, not exactly. It's gotta be an island, otherwise we'd ‘a see it coming. An' it can't be all that big, either, but who's to know."

Cy just growled, then sighed, resting his head on his knees.

"So what do we do now?" Ashley asked, sitting closely to Cy. He was looking at me for answers.

I just thought about our situation for a moment, and despite how hopeless it seemed, all I could say was, "I don't know," which was hardly satisfying. We all knew the situation, and save building a boat, there wasn't much we could do.

"Maybe we could start a fire," Ashley suggested hopefully. "Someone'll see it and come help!"

Loki shook his head. "Do you really think if anyone actually saw our signal, they'd be able to make it here alive?"

"We did," Ashley argued.

"We also crashed into the rocks."

"Well I'm just trying to help!" Ashley suddenly barked.

I just continued to ignore the group all arguing with themselves, trying to come up with a better idea, petting a happy Valo. He, of course, had no trouble at all getting up here, jumping from rock to rock with the agility and grace of a mountain goat. Finally I decided to get up, much to everyone's surprise, taking up the Lionheart.

"I'm going to look around," I growled. "No use standing about." Then I walked off, and apparently that seemed like an okay idea, since the rest soon followed. We continued through the dense, dark forest, pushing away branches and stepping over large rocks and roots, seeming to move downhill somewhat. But after a while everything began to look the same, the noises of the black, demonic wildlife quickly becoming background noise, much like the chilling wind and wicked lightning. Soon enough, though, we noticed a bit of a clearing close by, and with every crash of lightning we saw it get closer. After what felt like an hour of traipsing through thick, thorny forest, we came onto what looked like a beach.

"No way," Ashley said, the sand no doubt feeling good on everyone's footpaws. "I've never been to the beach!"

Admittedly, neither had I. Midland doesn't own much coastline, save the impressive cliffs to the south, and I'd never ventured too far out of the country before now. The sand forming between my toes was an interesting sensation, and certainly much softer. Though after a while of marching along the coastline, further away from the shore than I normally would, my legs were quickly becoming fatigued - though the sand was nicer on the pawpads, it was a lot more work to trudge through. After a couple more hours of this, though, all of us thoroughly tired now, Cy suddenly spotted something that was very encouraging: a dock. And while it wasn't a very visible dock, nor very well-kept, it was something fur-made. Which meant either people lived here, or used to. It became all the more clear this island was, in fact, entirely taken by Hel, and if furs had lived here, it was possible they'd all have already been slaughtered. Perhaps there were even Alphas here someplace, which Valo could easily handle, if not the rest of us.

The closer toward this dock we got, the more excited we became. Ashley was running at one point, though soon stopped, and shortly enough the beach turned into harder ground and we were standing before the ruined dock of whatever island we were on. And for a long while we just stared like it was some kind of light beacon, though it was actually still very dark. The waves were beating the poor dock senseless, and though I couldn't be certain, I thought I saw a fin or two of our monster friends still stalking the seas, or the group of us.

"So what now?" someone asked, but I had my eyes trained on the sea. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw that movement. It couldn't have been a wave. Was it...closer? The others grumbled to themselves and to each other about what the next step was, and though someone suggested following this path leading away from the dock, no one yet made a move. They must've been waiting for me. Suddenly, I saw the movement again, more confident now it wasn't just the wild waves. It was definitely something, and it was definitely moving closer. Someone then brushed against my arm; it was Loki.

"You saw it, too?" he asked, staring out as well. But it wasn't until Valo began to growl that everyone started paying more attention.

"What is it?" Ashley asked, far more familiar with Valo's nuances than Cy or his two remaining crewmen.

I stared for a moment longer until we all saw that massive fin dip out of the water between waves, clearly heading toward us. And in the second before I yelled, "Run!" we stood paralysed. But none of us wanted to risk standing about with the chance of it hopping up on land. And so we promptly ran up the old, overgrown pathway, up toward more forest. Luckily, the path was still very clear, much more clear, anyway, than the path we'd carved out ourselves. As we ran, the dock far behind us now, the familiar cries of an angry sea monster - likely not a Disciple after all - rang overhead, and I could practically feel the tension thicken. In the brief glances into the thick forest on either side of us, the Hel-ish wildlife had clearly evacuated the area, something I was starting to wish we'd done sooner.

Suddenly, after a few more audible screams, I felt a faint thumping emanating from the trees and the ground, like the monster was quickly galloping toward us. Someone cried, "Fuck!" but didn't slow down; I think it was Cy. I think he was also asking how the fuck the sea monster could move on land, but the rest of us opted to save our breath for running. Then a very loud crash sounded behind us, over and over like the monster was simply plowing through the trees, roaring and screaming like we'd stolen its money. Finally, though, before my heart exploded, we spotted a structure of some kind at the end of this path, and though it looked ancient, not to mention dark, scary and foreboding - especially given our current surroundings - we tore on through the shitty metal gate and through the thick, surprisingly well-preserved wooden doors, slamming them shut just as Valo burst in. Seconds later, the crewmen and I holding the door closed, the others found an enormous length of wood and jammed it into the barricades, and just as soon as the monster screamed and slammed into the door, they found another and jammed it in as well. It didn't occur to me until after the monster had given up - at least for now - that before us was an extremely well-fortified door to a very old stone building that was nearly pitch black. Fortunately, though, there were a few torches about, as well as holes in the ceiling, large enough to shed light but small enough to keep out giant monsters. Of course, they were also large enough to see them clamber by, grunting as they took a peak.

Finally someone lit a torch, then a couple others with that one, and we began our look around. We were in a fairly large chamber, symmetrical, with big stone pillars on either side, holding up the ancient ceiling. Everything was extremely dusty, and looked like little creatures were perhaps living in here, had they not been scared away by a certain sea beast. But closer to the centre of the chamber was what looked like a stone table or desk of some sort, and a bunch of old, destroyed chairs and furniture strewn about.

"Creepy," Ashley commented, one of the torch-bearers. Cy and I were the other two. Part of our exploration of this spooky castle also including locating more torches, but I think we lucked out with the ones we had. "What do you think this place was?"

"Who knows," I answered, "but it looks old. And clearly abandoned, probably for longer than these Hel creatures have been here."

"I knew it," Loki suddenly said, who was looking about at the desk. Behind him, and this desk, were multiple doorways, each with a dusty, illegible sign etched into the stone beside them. They, too, looked as fortified as the one we'd just come in from.

"What?" I asked, approaching him.

"This is it, it has to be."

"What?" I frowned.

"Miskatonic Keep."

At first I just stared at the fox, trying to decide just how certain he was. And his stone-cold eyes told me no lie. "How...do you know?" I was suddenly excited and nervous, and also somewhat apprehensive.

"It's these symbols," he said, pushing a paw over some extremely dusty etchings. Beneath each one was a small hook with large metal and stone keys off dangling off them, looking awfully fragile. Loki then suggested toward the doors, showing us how the symbols match. Made sense to label the keys, though I'd imagine they were easy to switch around. The keys were very stylized, though, and looked pretty heavy. They were longer than my paws were, and about as thick as a finger.

"Weird," I commented.

"They're Dragon Runes," Loki then began to explain. "Furs often times used them for listing or numbering things, usually with a severe lack of understanding. In this case, they're labelling the doors from least to most amount of security, and all aspects that implied. But I noticed some runes when we ran past the gate, and though I'd only caught a glimpse and the translation is rough, I'm certain it said Miskatonic Keep."

"What do you mean?" Ashley asked, looking a bit confused.

Loki frowned. It was just as well, since I didn't really get it, either. "Dragon Runes are a series of symbols, each one generally having a particular meaning and an affiliation with one of their gods. Of course, when furs used them, their limited knowledge on Dragon lore and religion generally hindered the runes' meaning. This first one, for example, roughly translates into Torment, so it was likely where they'd take furs to be tortured until death; one of the harsher punishments. The rune is affiliated with one of the Ancient Ones, though, particularly the Goddess of Compassion, so it's clear they ignored that fact completely. This one is a rune for Captivity - referring in this case to the god of the Heavenly Afterlife, bidding one to hold onto your Eternal Soul, especially on the battlefield - which is probably the cells. And this third one, in the middle... It's probably the most accurate usage; it means Void, affiliated with the Crimson King. It has to be solitary confinement, no doubt a long, spiralling staircase leading to many chambers much like the Ritual Chamber deep beneath Castle Midgard. That's where we'll find Baldr."

Cy was staring at us with no clue what we were talking about, but thankfully kept the questions to himself, likely hoping to figure it out along the way. Of course, I barely knew what Loki was talking about, but I at least got the important bits. In good time, too, since the sea monster made its reappearance at the entrance of this dark, dusty place, trying as hard as ever to break through. The problem was, however, it was starting to succeed.

Before anyone could say anymore, I nabbed the middle key and took toward the big, black, spike-covered door and ignoring Loki and the others, jammed the key into the hole and turned. I pulled on the door, finding it much heavier than I'd thought it'd be, and with a bit of help, managed to crack it open enough to fit in, which meant everyone else could fit in, too. And it sounded like we'd slammed the door behind us just as the monster broke through the barricade, screaming and howling as it tore through the chamber. As predicted, it bashed into the door behind us, hopefully hurting itself on the spikes. The group of us hurried away from the door, led by the small arctic fox.

We ran through the wide corridor to yet another thick, thorny door, this one having already been opened a crack. I simply kicked it in, watching as it fell into a deep, dark, seemingly endless pit.

"Shit," Cy commented, peering over the edge of the relatively wide staircase, which as usual spiralled downward along the cylindrical wall. We passed by many doors, the banging and crying becoming fainter and fainter, Loki apparently knowing exactly which door to go in. Either that, or he'd know it when we got there. My money was on the last door.

"The stories of this place have been greatly exaggerated," Cy pointed out, waving his torch about. "Save that freakish fish, this place is about as haunted as my mother's ale."

I didn't really understand that last part, and I had to admit, I was surprised and relieved to see there weren't any murderous ghosts lurking about. Of course, that wooden door wouldn't hold that fish thing forever, and its already proven to be extremely versatile on land. But we ignored the bangs and the roars as best we could, Ashley sticking close to me. Loki was still ahead, glancing at each symbol by each door as we passed it. This was an incredibly long staircase, but in amazingly good condition; there were few cracks and even fewer chunks missing, which one might expect from a castle so old. It was a dizzying descent to the final door, but we finally made it. I almost expected to see a whole bunch of corpses or skeletons lying on the floor of people who'd fallen off the stairs, but saw only stone and filth. Loki then ran his fingers over the rune of the final door, seeming certain this was the one.

But when he examined the door closer, the door of course being locked, we heard a staggering crash from high above. A few moments later, dozens of clattering rock fell from above, as well as a huge wooden door crashing against the stairs behind us, then of course it smashing into dozens of pieces and splinters as it hit the floor.

"Get in!" Ashley cried, plastered against the wall beside the door, though Loki was already trying. He cried even louder after hearing a deafening scream, then several others at different pitches; though we could see nothing, it sounded like there were a few of them, and they were descending quickly.

I then shoved Loki aside, ignoring his growl, and bashed myself against the door, trying brute strength instead. As the monster quickly drew closer, my heart began pumping faster, and each attempt to open the door forced a louder and rougher snarl out of me, until suddenly the giant beast appeared behind us. I glanced at it for just a moment, staring into its many beady red eyes, then turned and smashed at the door frantically with my fists, drawing upon the strength of my incredible adrenaline to finally crack it. I could feel someone pulling on me, telling me to run, but I had to try again. Just as I heard one more horrible screech, no doubt the creature readying to attack as its friends arrived, I fired my fist forward and roared loudly, finally breaking the wood enough to hammer it with my shoulder and bust it down. As I fell into the dark, dusty corridor, I heard screaming and crying and footpaws rushing past my head, then a series of loud, wall-shaking bangs at the walls and floor behind me, and of course that nasty scream. Many paws were pulling on my arms, including something at my footpaws, but after hearing a loud cry then a louder screech, the thing let go of my footpaw and I was hurriedly pulled further into the more narrow corridor. When I finally looked back, Loki had shut the door, though the monster hardly let itself be locked out. Too big to fit through, it extended its arms in as far as they'd go, just barely able to reach us, then insisted on smashing the walls to pieces to make the corridor bigger.

I finally got to my footpaws and we plastered ourselves against the furthest end, discovering yet another heavy door.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," I heard Ashley say over and over, gripping his bloody sword tightly. It would seem he'd attacked it when it attached itself to my footpaw, and probably feared its vengeance. I would have told him it probably wasn't personal, though this hardly seemed like the time nor the place. Of course, the fact it'd pulled itself out of its home in the water and chased us throughout the Keep contradicted that theory... Either way, this was sadly not the subject to concentrate on at that moment.

Finally I put my paw on the Lionheart, readying for attack, until I suddenly felt the door swing open behind me, and though the monster was still smashing its way toward us, we quickly piled inside. Ashley and Cy slammed the door shut and turned to look for something to barricade the door with. Instead, we were all extremely startled by the sight of something far more disturbing; a wicked black suit of armour, hanging uselessly from dozens and dozens of thick lengths of what appeared to be steel chains, footpaws dangling lifelessly on the dark, dank stone floor. The dead body of Baldr was in the centre of four huge stone pillars, each one lined with steel rings, holding the chains, as well as many on the walls, ceiling and floor. But it seemed before being chained in place, he had simply been thrown into this deepest of chambers, as evidenced by the hundreds upon hundreds of long, short, shallow and deep claw marks in every part of the chamber. It was frightening to imagine what that must have felt like for Baldr, trapped in this blackish room with seemingly no way out. How long had he held on for, thinking his master and lover Níðhöggr would return?

I then approached the black armour, staring at the top of the helmet, shaped like a dragon's head. Two large horns protruded backward from behind the eyes, and still looked very sharp, as well as the rest of it. I ran my paw over the shoulder piece, between three large, no doubt ornamental spikes, getting a certain chill up my spine. This armour was thousands of years old, and powerful or not, all it could do now was hold together this poor tiger's bones. Baldr, my ancestor, was long dead and gone, and yet I felt such an odd, cold presence in the moment I removed my paw. Perhaps somehow, his spirit still remained? I was never a believer in the afterlife nor in souls and so forth, but as I'd seen just over eight months ago, the Crimson King had taken Kai's; could Baldr's soul still be trapped down here? Or perhaps even in this armour? In the past two years, I'd seen so much I would have never thought possible, and even now I'd barely begun to comprehend it all. Could a part of the dark magic infused within the armour have somehow bound Baldr's soul to it? I ran my paw across the top of the helmet now, lifting it a bit. This was the sort of thing Keefe would know, or at least guess at. But as I heard the screaming and smashing slowly growing louder outside the door, my mind was drawn back to reality.

"Help me with this," I barked, and everyone turned to me.

"You're going to wear that?" Cy asked, apparently astounded by the notion. He was holding both swords tightly now. "That thing's cursed, for one thing, and for another...there's a dead body in there." The naked cheetah then shivered, doubtfully because he was cold.

"Think of him more as a coat rack," Loki said bluntly, and Cy just frowned.

"I'm not messing with corpses," the cheetah simply replied, shaking his head. When I looked at a worried Ashley, he simply stepped back. The two crewmen followed their Captain, and only Loki seemed willing. Valo was around, and I was sure he'd have helped if he knew what was going, but all he could focus on was growling at the door.

Finally I just shook my head, lifting the helmet. As I peered into the hollow eyes of a dead, ancient tiger, I was suddenly frozen. Something was holding me there, something ominous and obscure. I felt an extreme chill run up my body, as these dead eyes seemed to stare back at me. I was suddenly very cold, and yet was compelled to continue holding the helmet. Was this some sort of sign, or warning? Perhaps Baldr's soul was still trapped down here after all, telling me to forget about the armour, that it was far too evil and far too powerful to unearth. And for a moment, it seemed reasonable. I'd defeated a Disciple, after all, without any assistance from my Inner Darkness; surely I could defeat these enormous monsters. And yet hearing its desperate, wicked screams, as well as several horrified screams from Ashley, I felt compelled to put it on. But as the black helmet peeled away from the corpse of my ancestor, I was stopped once again. It was that ominous feeling again, something I could hardly begin to describe, but I certainly felt. I couldn't decipher this feeling, but it left me uneasy. If there was any hope in defeating the Crimson King at all, it lay in this armour. If I wasn't going to don the armour now, I still couldn't leave without it.

Suddenly, the room seemed to shake, dust and rock crumbling down. The giant fish-beast was getting closer, showing an almost admirable amount of determination. If this was the mother of the monster I'd cut, it would fill in this room quickly with its large, powerful arms, and probably crush us all with ease. I growled, and finally pulled the helmet off, Baldr's rotted head now dangling from the armour. I stood for just a moment, then moved a paw forward, onto the shoulder. "Forgive me," I whispered, which made Loki frown. He then held out his paws, offering to hold the helmet for me, and I quickly obliged.

The fox set the helmet down carefully and began working away at releasing the shackles, which were practically crumbling by that point; the armour had stood the test of time remarkably well. When he'd finally released each one, hundreds of feet of chains now covering the floor beneath us, I separated each part of the armour, removing it from Baldr's lifeless bones. I felt somewhat guilty, and admittedly kinda grossed out, about treating his body like this, but given the door and wall were moments away from crashing down, I didn't have time to apologize again. Ashley's face suggested I hurry, him standing in front of me - behind the armour - with sword in paw, while Cy looked worried the corpse was going to spring to life and kill us before the monster did. But Baldr stayed down, and as I leaned against a thick, rumbling pillar, I had to debate whether or not to keep my regular clothes on. There was also an equally black set of chainmail armour beneath all the thick plating, and when I considered past experiences, I was quick to slip into the chainmail with the clothes.

And as the frigid metal slid over my head and down my arms and chest, the mail snug against my body, an even colder chill ran up my spine. It may have been the one that just ran up Cy's spine, too, but I couldn't stop here. Everyone just watched as Loki stepped over a pile of armour and chains, handing me the bottom half. Trying my best to ignore everyone, I slid them on, the freezing armour not helping that eerie chill. And once the bottom half was strapped firmly to the first, Loki handed me the left leg piece, which I slid on over the mail and strapped tightly into place, then the sharp plating for my footpaw. Every piece of this armour made me feel colder and colder, but with both legs half done, I'd gone too far to remove it. I then stood up straight, placing the thigh-armour in place, Loki helping strap me in.

I was suddenly reminded of my dear Kai, delighting in helping me get into my old armour. He would feel me up at every chance he got, only blushing and giving me that cheeky grin as a response. My boy loved to help me strap in, seeming almost aroused by the thought. He loved my armour, and more than that, loved me in it. Or, perhaps, me getting out of it. He'd longed for a suit of armour like my own, and was so happy when he'd finally received it. Of course, despite having his own, he still very much enjoyed the apparent naughtiness he felt when strapping me in. But those days were gone now, stolen from me by the Crimson King. And he would pay for what he'd done to me.

Finally Loki, with a bit of effort, lifted the bulk of the armour; the heavily-plated chest pieces, which seemed to cover the whole torso like dragon scales. It came in two halves, and when I held out my arms, my tail flicked with nervous and cold excitement. The two parts came together easily, fitting tightly around my body, then even more so as both parts were strapped together. I could feel a sort of odd, slithering movement down around my nethers, as if the armour was positioning itself firmly around my bits and my rear, conforming to my shape. With a shiver, Loki slid on the upper-arm pieces, the mass of it covering the outer sides. I was then helped into the incredibly dangerous shoulder pieces, the three big spikes very menacing, and finally the gauntlets. They fit easily over my forearms, strapped into place, looking quite threatening with the sharp elbow bits, as well as their jagged, dragon-like appearance. I then wiggled my fingers about, getting a feel for the armour around my paws, which by now looked more like black, frightening Claws of Death. I just stood for a moment taking in deep breaths, moving my arms and my legs, and as the monster crashed against the door, my head whipped toward the helmet.

Loki was holding onto it, looking very much like he wasn't going to give it up. I held out my paw, not surprised when the arctic fox kept it. "No," he said, shaking his head. Suddenly, another crash at the door, and despite Ashley's cries, they were ready for a battle. "Try without the helmet first," Loki insisted, holding tighter. I just growled, hearing stone and wood crackle and burst.

"Did you see the size of that thing?" I shouted. "It'll tear us apart!"

The fox shook his head again, and I was starting to get irritated. "It wasn't the big one that came tearing through that corridor," he told me. But before I could argue any further, I turned with enough time to see the wall suddenly come crumbling down, and of course the door obliterated. Loki was right, as it turns out, but I knew it was out there somewhere.

Almost immediately after the monster burst through, I was deflecting and dodging both attacks and flying rocks. It screamed horribly as it threw a crewman across the room, splattering him against the furthest wall, and I suddenly dove forward to avoid an attack and grab the Lionheart. When I looked up, hearing it screeching, I was delighted to see Valo quite literally in its face, tearing off some of its eyes with fierce delight.

Sword now firmly within my paws, I took a hard swing upward, slicing one of its arms in two, then I burst forward. Though it may have been the adrenaline and not the armour, I felt extremely invigorated. With still no clear sighs of Nosferatu, I swung my sword across my chest, beating way another arm, then with my right paw on the pommel, heaved the blade straight into the monster's face, Valo leaping out of the way just in time. It screamed horribly and before it could smack me away, I tore out the Lionheart and sliced open its arm, then swung it upward to strike in its lower mandible. And I did so with incredible force, the sword slicing straight through. The monster cried and flailed its arms about wildly, trying desperately to back out of the chamber. I snarled fiercely and slammed my blade into an arm, which in turn slammed the arm into the crumbling wall, and then thrust my paw forward.

Using the deadly claws to my advantage, as well as the narrow - albeit widened - corridor, I drove my paw into the middle of its slithering eyes, but it quickly pulled away and chomped down on my arm. I was very much surprised to find it hadn't pierced the armour, and I think it was surprised, too. When I retrieved my arm quickly, I broke a bunch of its sharp teeth with it, of course causing the poor beast to howl in pain, and without skipping a beat, I turned, grabbed the Lionheart and continued to spin, building up momentum. Upon facing the beast once more, I cried out and sliced straight down onto its head, flooring it instantly and breaking open its skull. As it slowly died, I lifted the blade once more and heaved it into the extremely large laceration, killing it instantly.

I then backed away slowly, growling with contempt, noting the pungent stench of the monster's dead, fishy body, finally turning to the others. For a moment they seemed relieved, but their faces quickly turned to that of fear, and when I turned, it was clear why. At the end of the heavily damaged corridor was a face of a sea monster which seemed to encompass the whole entrance. Suddenly it burst out a deafening scream, then before I knew it, I'd been struck hard in the chest and smashed through a pillar, now pinned to the one behind it. I struggled and gasped for breath, and I could hear my friends crying out, and probably trying to rescue me. But undoubtedly, their swords could scarcely injure the massive monster arm, at least not enough for it to stop crushing me.

I cried out desperately, I think hearing my own bones crack, though it also could've been the pillar. Just then, my eyes shot open at the sound of a familiar dark laughter. When I looked up, Loki was standing on the arm, bent down to face me and holding the helmet - the final piece of Algol - just above my head, my ears catching the sides. He stared into my eyes harshly, as if telling me he didn't want to do it.

Just as the small arctic fox's paws twitched, Nosferatu begging for release, he leaned in close. "Just come back to me," Loki whispered sincerely, then gently forced the armour onto my head.

In that instant, I felt an intense burning on the back of my neck and a darkness spreading its mighty wings across the entire room. I roared loudly at the monster pinning me to the pillar, suddenly digging my claws into it. I held on tight and gave a powerful squeeze, surprising myself at how easily I tore through its hard, scaly flesh, dropping quickly. I stood on one knee for a moment, eyes closed tight and trying to focus. There was something screaming inside me, surrounding me and breaking my concentration. I then began to growl deeper than I'd ever heard, my paws trembling as they held my head. Such black and violent chaos roared through my head, I could barely stand it. I felt myself stumbling around, I think everybody watching me with concern. I could feel their presence, but I couldn't see them.

Something was surrounding me, choking me. I growled to keep it back, but it insisted on drawing close. I think my eyes were still slammed shut, but I saw this thing clearly. It was suffocating me, laughing as it quickly squeezed my body, holding me tight; holding me safe. I cried out, but it only chuckled and laughed louder, crying back. This thing, this Darkness, would not let go of me, but instead caressed my sore, beaten body, soothing away any pain and any injury. As I was embraced by Nosferatu and, indeed, Algol, the chaos in my mind slowly simmered. I opened my eyes slowly, letting out a long, steamy breath as my paw reached for the Lionheart. But before I grabbed on, I quickly dodged to the left, feeling a long, powerful fish-arm blast through a pillar, then another come straight for me. I just turned and let out a horrible cry, punching the arm dead-on. I felt the incredible force shake the whole room, the chains rattling vigorously beneath me. I just chuckled, then looked at the beast. Its arms were an usual white, but like my armour, its veins and blood were black as night. When I looked about the chamber, my friends all appeared in the same manner, and each beating, ebony heart I wanted so badly.

I growled and held my head, somehow knowing this wasn't right. These small, weak little furs...I wasn't supposed to want their hearts, nor their blood. And yet I was drawn to them, compelled to tear them out, extinguish their tiny flames. The room around me was this dull, nearly monochrome grey, very dull and very bleak, but within the snowy bodies of my friends and the monster, their blood and lifeforce shone like the void. And though it was oddly beautiful, I wanted to stomp out the brightness of their black blood, leaving only my lifeless surroundings. I snarled loudly at the furs, stepping forward; they backed away like cowards, only the smallest remaining - some weak fox, I think called Loki. But didn't I know this Loki?

Unfortunately, before I could tear off his head, the thought of which excited me greatly, I was forced to defend myself from the idling sea monster, who'd decided to attack. I turned once more, holding out both paws and stopping it immediately, except this time I dug my claws in and roared intensely as I threw my arms apart, tearing into the arm. The monster cried, and I only laughed, it's warm, soothing blood splashing into my face. With a greater swiftness than I'd ever thought possible, I threw the arm aside and dashed around, firing toward its face at the end of the broken corridor. Within a few moments, after dodging a couple futile attacks, I leapt up with a powerful war cry, slamming my fist down into its enormous jaw, tearing through its muscle and flesh and it's bone and teeth. Blood and bone spewed onto the floor, and the monster backed into the wall behind it, though it nearly took up the whole length of this circular staircase-chamber. I roared again, spraying saliva and blood all over the place, then quickly dashed forward, seeing nothing else but my enemy. I punched a massive arm away, then sprung upward, leaping off another, this time vaulting myself toward its hideous face.

However, I was somewhat surprised to find I'd been struck in the side before getting close enough to attack. I felt my body roll across the dusty floor, and before I could get up, something slammed down into me. Blood spewed from my maw, and for a second I saw a flash of carmine red streak across my face, but soon the Darkness reclaimed control. Again it pounded on me, and I saw those tiny furs gather close to where I'd fallen, attempting, it seemed, to lure its attacks away from me; the fools would get themselves killed, and I could not have that. No, not at the hands of this monster. But just as it swung an arm at them, I ran forward once more, growling as I jumped and dodged, finally getting close enough to attack. And I savoured the too-brief moment before my fist sunk deep into the monster's jaw, admiring its ferocity as it went after the others. But soon my forearm had smashed through its mouth, shattering more bone and tooth, except this time grabbing hold of one of the razor-like teeth and quickly slicing a huge gash through its dozens of eyes, then sinking it deep within. The monster screamed horribly and flailed about amusingly, trying its best to strike me down, but I easily clawed and tore its arms away. I would have none of it. At every attempt, I snarled and slashed open an arm, or tore out some eyes, until it was calm enough where I could get in close and with a horrifying roar, slam my fists down again and again at what could have been its cranium, finally cracking its skull and breaking through, getting immense pleasure from its hot blood and what may have been its brains splashing onto me, dripping off my ebony armour. I then hopped down off the dying beast, chuckling in the drowning noise of its pathetic, gurgling cries. I calmly walked back toward it, and could somehow feel its eyes upon me, and though it begged me to stop, I bared my teeth with delight and sunk my forearm into its skull once more, grabbing something within and silenced the beast at once. I then turned to the others, staring at their petrified bodies. They needed to die.

Like the sea monster, the group all appeared the same, despite being different sizes; I saw their dark, inky blood coursing through their frightened, fragile bodies, faces distinguishable but unknown to me. I then roared at them bestially, causing them to flinch, slowly stomping forward. I could hear myself breathing heavily, growling wickedly with every breath - it hardly even sounded normal. I looked about, the chamber dark and dull, the only light coming from their darkened bodies. I then shook my head, snarling as I felt a distraction. Such an odd feeling. But again I focused on the small group, growling horribly at them. Blood was pouring down my armour and from my maw, and though I couldn't see myself, I could feel their fright; their cowardice. The smallest creature - the fox named Loki - was holding a sword many times larger than himself, and much to my surprise, the sword, too, had a peculiar sheen to it. When I took another step forward, something seemed to fly in front of me, or rather, in front of my mind. The chaos I'd experienced after receiving the helmet seemed to be returning, but in random spurts. I stopped and stood steady, a paw on my head. Just then, eyes closed tight, I felt intense pain and that muddling chaos returned, and I saw something very, very dark battling something bright. It was a powerful image, yet so completely vague. I snarled and roared, stumbling about like a drunkard, trying desperately to make it stop, and yet I seemed to have no control over myself. What...was this? I sensed a battle as intense as any I'd ever been in, except it was so...futile. I - or Nosferatu - was always the winner, but here the victor was neither. Was it...Algol? Or perhaps my Darkness? And what was this light? I growled as I tried to comprehend, but felt only pain. Did Baldr have this much trouble with the armour, or was it something to get used to, or control? Was the light...the Lionheart? I cried out again, except my mind was suddenly and rapidly drawn back to reality as something physical flashed in front of me, striking my chest.

I flew back with incredible force, smashing into the wall. When I opened my eyes, I saw things as I normally did, with intense flashes of that battle, stopping only long enough to watch this mysterious newcomer strike me again. This time it was a hard punch to my gut, causing me to disgorge my bloody stomach again, but then its paw - or whatever it was - attached to my head, causing extraordinary pain. I screamed loudly, doing nothing to soothe my already damaged throat, then was tossed across the room. I heard this new monster snarl as it threw me, the sound very familiar. Except this time I landed on my feet, skidding back and using my front claws to stop me. I looked at this large, winged beast, seeing both in regular colour but somehow sensing exactly where every blood vessel and vain was, like some strange mix of both visions. I shook my head and charged forward, ignoring the furs. They could wait; they could always wait. I snarled and attacked the beast, but it spread its mighty wings and flew upward. I swiped my claws anyway, just in case, but was unfortunately blindsided by what felt like a boulder. I stumbled back up to my feet, blinded with rage. I whipped my head about, roaring at my attacker, not even sure where it was anymore. In fact, I couldn't see much of anything. That is, until I was attacked from behind, rolling to a stop near the furs - was there more of them now? When I got up, I saw that shimmering blade start to slide across the floor and attack at me, but I easily knocked the bearer away. I picked up the blade and immediately cried out, paws in searing pain. But as always, I used that pain to fuel my attack, putting every bit of hatred into swinging it around. And with what may have been good luck, I struck the flying beast across the face.

Just as it fell, holding its face, I rose the massive blade high above my head, letting it drop with amazing speed and force. However, the monster had surprised me by flapping its enormous wings, backing itself into the wall. But I wouldn't let it get away, not this time. I dashed forward quickly, charging forward until the sword sunk deep into the monsters' body, and into the wall behind it. I snarled and cried out, and as it waved its paw around and muttered something, I simply jammed the sword in further. But it continued to chant, however pained, and still I pushed forward, enjoying the sound of its horrified cries. I could feel its life fading, and I wanted nothing more than to snuff it out completely. But before I'd been given that chance, it clasped onto my head tightly. I then felt that incredible pain once more, like my scalp was being torn straight off. I cried out, unable to move the sword any more, but instead grabbed onto the monster's forearm. It was snarling its enchantment now, gripping even tighter as it pulled, but I pulled back. There was no way I was going to let it take Nosferatu away from me, not now, not again. It'd been trapped for so long, and felt so liberating and so relieving to let it stretch its dark wings and kill once again. My paws then began to crush the monster's arm, until he shouted one final command, pulling hard. I cried out in pain, but heard an even louder scream coming from somewhere within my head. I could see a swirling mass darker than the void, thrashing and crashing about insanely, crying horribly as the pain increased within my head. Suddenly, a blinding white light burned into my eyes, and the mass of darkness screamed and writhed like a dying monster, sinking back into whatever hole it'd emerged from. My body was now light as air, and slowly I drifted down onto the floor, eyes barely open. I did, however, notice an old, Black Dragon holding Algol's helmet and watching me fall back, pinned to the wall by the Lionheart. And when I finally hit the floor, I could hear him whispering. It was faint at first, but soon became clearer.

"You were as frightening as ever, dear Baldr," the dragon said to me, paw finally falling beside him, the helmet rolling away. He was smiling at me, a big, warm smile, despite his life quickly fading. "Find...m-my brothers..." Níðhöggr said, clinging to life desperately. The others slowly approached me, and I groaned as I sat up. I think Níðhöggr was chanting something new, no doubt trying to save himself; and for some reason I found myself encouraging him. If anybody could do it, having suffered the injuries he had, this Dragon could. I then saw Loki appear before the dragon, one footpaw up on his chest; I tried to object, but found no voice.

For now, Loki just stared down at Níðhöggr, one paw on the Lionheart, breathing calmly, but heavily. Níðhöggr stopped chanting for a moment, the pair sharing a long, deadly silence together; the fox was holding his own sword, too. "Don't," I tried to say as Loki moved the blade to Níðhöggr's neck, and though I couldn't see his face, I was certain it was a look of pure contempt. The others made no attempt to stop him, and I struggled to move. But before I could do anything, Loki wrinkled his nose and growled fiercely. "You piece of shit," he cried, lifting the blade high and snarling as he suddenly slashed the Black Dragon's throat, then some more as he slashed and stabbed again and again at Níðhöggr's neck and chest, until the Dragon was thoroughly dead. Loki then threw down his bloody weapon and spat on Níðhöggr's corpse, giving me a hard look before walking past me.

I then groaned within the dead silence of this chamber, letting myself go limp as I closed my eyes. Surely I would wake up again someplace safe.

And when I finally did open my eyes again, I was in what appeared to be a wood cabin, surrounded by relatively nice things, including an actual bed. The sound of waves crashing around me was a familiar sound, and oddly soothing. I then turned my sore head, unhappy the pain had come back. I was, however, delighted to see all my friends; I'd gotten used to waking up like this long ago, though I still despised lying here uselessly. I think I was still wearing the armour, though the helmet was nowhere to be seen. Not yet, at least. I'm sure someone was keeping it safely stowed away from my dark paws.

"You okay?" I heard, a familiar voice. I turned my head to Keefe, who I was overjoyed to see. I hardly showed it though, unintentionally.

"Kai..?" I found myself uttering, looking about. "Where is..?"

Keefe looked worried. "Kai isn't with us," he told me softly. "He isn't with any of us. Do you...not remember?"

I tried to think, seeing only images of my beloved black panther. "Kai..." I said again, for no particular reason. I saw him so vividly, laughing and playing, and being sweet and tender. I could feel his warm paws gently caressing my body, my black and orange fur flicking through his small, adorable fingers. Oh, my sweet young boy... What happened to you? Before giving that much more thought, though, I quickly saw a darkness - a familiar darkness - envelop and consume my boy, taking him away. And now only saw twisted images of the Crimson King, laughing at me. I just growled quietly, giving Keefe a hard stare. Yeah, I remembered.

Keefe then nodded.

"Well? Does he remember?" I then heard, and it was a voice...a deep voice, very familiar to me. Too familiar.

"Yes," Keefe frowned, turning to the voice. When I looked over, I saw a big, roughed-up lion looking down at me, and I stared in disbelief.

"R-Rit..?" I said suspiciously, as if he was perhaps some illusion or trick. But when he nodded and rubbed my leg - my un-armoured leg, as it turns out - I knew this was no trick. "But...how? How is this possible? We...left you down in that library; you were a monster."

Rit just smiled in that way he always did, when something was serious but he pretended it was nothing. "I wasn't really myself," he simply said, like it was no big deal. Typical. "That little shit-face Loki was pretty much calling the shots, just like with the rest of those Disciples, tellin' ‘em what do to and where to go. Even sent me to kill you at that big Cathedral, remember? Y'know, where that machine is. But when the Crimson King came back, he took away Loki's power an'-."

I suddenly closed my eyes tightly, cutting the lion off, groaning in pain. It was my head again. Both Keefe and Rit leaned in close, but only Rit remained. After giving Keefe an odd look, he rubbed his big paw over my head, talking quietly into my ear. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, sighing heavily. "This is just...too much right now. You were all...supposed to be dead. Especially you...Rit."

Rit then backed off a bit, letting me breathe. Not one of them seemed to know what to say. Both Ashley and Cy were in the room with me as well, Cy holding onto the frightened skunk tightly. As was once typical with Kai, I wasn't quite sure whether Ashley was afraid for me, or of me.

"Where's Loki?" I then asked, searching around the room. "And Valo?"

"Valo's with Loki," Keefe said, holding a leather canteen with water. He handed to me, our fingertips brushing together for just a moment, then we shared a peculiar glance. "And Loki's outside with a dragon named Char - the one who lead us to you - I think getting some air. Loki and Rit, uh... They don't really get along, and I'm certain you know why. Frankly, I'm surprised you didn't kill him the moment you saw him. It would've been easy for you."

So he knew Loki was powerless, too? I just rolled my head to the side, neglecting to the tell the group about our drunken night together. So much was going on in my head at that moment, I simply dropped the canteen on the floor, letting my paw and arm go limp, and closed my eyes. I let out a long, stressful sigh, now relaxing my full body, head sinking deeper into the soft, feathery pillow. I ignored the tense voices all around me, begging for me to speak, or to move, or to do anything besides lie there lifelessly. But they would get no satisfaction, at least not yet. Not for a couple more days, at least.

I'd felt such intense darkness wash over me while wearing that full suit of black armour, which emerged much faster and much stronger than I'd ever felt before. Hell, I'd probably be out for days longer; it was common to black out after dealing with Nosferatu, though this was a whole new experience. I'm usually outside of my body when my Darkness takes control, forced to watch as I tear through my enemies, begging it to stop. But not this time. I was very much whole, and without a doubt in control of every movement. The difference here was the total elimination of every emotion; fear, anger, happiness. All of them. And without them, Algol pulled Nosferatu out completely, or at least further than I'd ever experienced, essentially changing my view. My Inner Darkness wanted to destroy every living being it could get its cold, black claws on, and I was in a state to let it happen. And I wanted it to happen. Craved it, even. The often friendly, tough tiger known to some as Luca...that tiger was gone, nonexistent, nowhere near close enough to watch, but was instead replaced by another Luca. An identical Luca, who shared every thought and every memory of the other, but wanted to do things differently. While the old Luca wanted to preserve life, generally, the new Luca wanted only to destroy it. All of it. And with Algol, I certainly possessed the ability and power - and the mindset - to do so.

But for now, the old Luca needed to rest his weary body and mind, and if he had one, his soul. His mind was consumed by thoughts of his newly-born friends, more especially the lion, and somewhere in that mix was, as always, thoughts of his lovely lost love, Kai. And unfortunately, so, too, were thoughts of the Crimson King. In my seemingly debilitated state, those thoughts grew. The next step in my journey was at the gates of his twisted, reborn castle, and it was going to be a big one. And so many paths and side-paths lead to that step, not one of which I was in a state to consider. All I could see now was my shining sword cleaving the King in two and taking back my boy. And for now, that would have to do.