Sleep of the Just

Prologue: Demon in an Angel's Clothing

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Deep in the deserted, god-forsaken outreaches of the war-torn Elemental Plane, a lone woman stood in the desert, abandoned for her crimes, set to die in the punishing sun; she screamed out her anguish and wrath. "How could they do this to me?!" She buried her head in her hands, hating the feeling of dirt cramming itself into every seam of her torn, once very beautiful clothing, and tiny rocks scratching up the soles of her bare feet. "Curse my ancestors' Ethera blood! Curse them for giving those stupid fools the gifts they denied me, their last descendant!" She curled into a tight ball on the ground, swallowing her own saliva to ease her parched throat. She panted for breath, the air she was inhaling was at least fifty degrees too hot, and much, much too thick. The sun was high in the desert now, and her skin was burning, blistering in the unbearable heat. She sifted the sand around her through her fingers as she sat, too exhausted to move. Her hand clenched into a tight fist, piercing her hand with sand grains as she remembered why she was in this hellish place.

I was a conquerer! I brought the Plane to its knees, only to be defeated in the end. Now I'm here, the Badlands, waiting for the desert to swallow me whole. They think this merciful, ha! It's easy for them to journey in the desert, pulling water from the ground and making mountains for shade. All I wanted was for them to die. Is that too much to ask? She tilted her head up, glaring at the sky, keeping her eyes open no matter how much it hurt to do so. "Is it too much?! Can't I see their cities crumble?! Why can't they die knowing that they were defeated by the one person without the damned gift?! Why won't the Elementals die?! They've left me, deserted in every sense of the word, and now I- can't- see- them- die!" She punctuated each of the last four words with her fist slamming into the burning sand. She slammed her head down onto the ground, burying her forehead in the sand. "No," she muttered. "I won't let them be the ones that kill me. If I can't kill them; then they won't be able to say that they're my murderers!"

She stuck a hand in into her shirt, feeling around for the hidden pocket sewn into her shirt. Her fumbling fingers finally closed around a small, glass vial filled to the brim with a deadly powder. She was always prepared to slip a little something extra into the meal of a closemouthed prisoner of war, or a subordinate who had failed her for the first and last time. Now, it seemed that poison would be her undoing as well. She uncorked the vial, and raised it seemingly in a toast to the desert around her. "Here's to you, Elementals! Long live your Plane!" She gave a harsh bark of a laugh, and poured the reddish, powdered poison underneath her tongue. Almost instantaneously, her muscles began to spasm, and her vision became speckled with tiny, white dots. She coughed twice, and then the coughs turned to hacking from deep in her lungs. The powder that had slithered down her throat now began to boil the contents of her stomach, creating unbearable cramps and nausea. She bit her tongue, trying to keep her infamous icy demeanor, and then her life was gone, like a gentle puff of air on an already flickering candle. She felt a rising up from within her. It felt almost fizzy, little tiny bubbles effervescing in every nerve. Her vision changed, and the world took a dull, monochromatic state, everything rendered in shades of grey. She saw her own body before her; it was a chilling site, her eyes wide open and her mouth tilted open slightly. She reached out to touch her body, but her ghostly fingers melted through her leaden-hued cheek. Suddenly, the world was ripped out from under her, becoming a desolate, black vortex. Wind whipped around her new, ghost form, and actually buffeted her instead of passing through her, as it should. She could see others, though they seemed hundreds of miles away. They were wailing and screaming as the wind ripped them to shreds, then put them together again so that the cycle could continue itself. She refused to join their pathetic cries for mercy, and instead dropped to her knees; keeping her head bowed low, so that the wind could not reach it.

"What is this place!?" she screamed, although she was certain that the wind snatched the words right out of her mouth, effectively rendering her mute.

"The end of the line, for you," spoke another voice. The voice was soft and melodic, like the rain, before the lightning comes and strikes a person dead for being foolish enough to gaze up into the stormclouds. As soon as the words were spoken, the wind stopped, and the other, likewise ill-fated souls, melted away in a rush of cool air, leaving a fetid musk of scent in their wake. " But I have different plans for you, if you are willing to hear them."

The woman turned around, trying to identify the speaker. Standing before her was a woman that could be described as angelic. She had long, light brown hair, and soft, almost white, blue eyes. She was very tall, and was wearing a plain black dress that slid across the floor as she moved. In her hands she was holding a circular glass pendant, with gold arcs bouncing around within it. The woman looked on at the 'angel' with satisfaction. "I know what you are. You are those beings the humans describe as 'angels' yes? I knew this could not be the end; you are here to escort me to the Above."

The 'angel' frowned. What a presumptuous thing.Though, I haven't been called an angel for a long time; not since my Fall. But if I obtain her soul and her body as a host, she may call me whatever she pleases. "Hardly, Yaharé," the demoness responded. "Besides, what use would you have for an angel? They may be charitable, but I doubt they would want to tarnish their pretty white wings with the likes of you."

Yaharé glared at the woman. "Well what are you and what is your business here? So far, you have done nothing but insult me, which is quite an unwise thing to do."

"Of course, I should be fearful of you, shouldn't I Yaharé?" Her voice sounded frightened, but it was obvious that she was anything but. "You know, you speak with much authority, at least, for one who has just had their world, and their power pulled out from under them. But that's all in the past, of course, nothing to trouble the dead with. Perhaps I should introduce myself now." She bowed, although the action was quick and almost mocking. Ah, foolish prey. I think I'll keep this one for awhile yet. "I am Verrine, Soul Reaver and High Lieutenant to the Dark Prince himself. But I grow weary of the politics of hell, so I have come to you, in the hopes that a deal- a partnership, if you will- is to be arranged between us."

Yaharé crossed her arms defiantly at the demon, and looked at her impetuously. "Your rank with the Prince of Hell means little to one such as me, for I care not for religion. If you wish to imbue someone with awe or fear, go to Earth, where they are much more superstitious. Now what do you want? I haven't all my time to waste on you."

Verrine laughed. "On the contrary. You have all of eternity to spend in here, because of your deeds. I wish Hell could have had you, but you just had to commit suicide, didn't you? Foolish woman, no mortal who takes their own life has any chance of going to Heaven, Hell, or anywhere in between! The Black is the place for you, where the wind can keep your tempest-tossed spirit in eternal torment. Now isn't that lovely?"

Yaharé thought about it. "Actually, it puts quite a damper on the end of Pyramus and Thisbe."

Verrine smiled at the woman's little touch of black humor. Perhaps she is a fitting match indeed. She is ruthless, cunning, and her already formed plans of revenge suit my purposes nicely. "Indeed. Now, as you can see, this place is quite dull, unworthy for one such as you to spend your eternity. I have a means to remedy that, to give you another chance at making your Plane falter and crumble."

Yaharé grinned wolfishly. "I am quite interested. Tell me, does it involve blood? Does it involve the wretched Elementals losing their highborne pride?"

"As much blood as you desire, Yaharé," Verrine replied. "But it will take time, copious amounts of time. But I assure you, the results will be quite worthwhile." Verrine was quite pleased with herself. She could tell that already Yaharé thought her as nothing more than a pawn. How wrong of you. When you succeed, I will leave your body, let you crumble into dust. Keep your soul to augment my strength. But for now at least, I can simper and be polite, and give you pretty trinkets and powers to play with.

"I offer you, Yaharé, a renewed body, an immortal shell of power to sheath your soul. I would bind to your service and will, and give you the power to resurrect dead life and hold souls to your cause. I also, can give you the chance to wield powers that should have been an undeniable birthright, if you are interested."

Yaharé felt a mix of emotions, from elation to bloodlust to suspicion, which could be summed up into one word, one question. "How?"

"With these." Verrine pulled, seemingly out of thin air, a golden staff, with a thick black spearhead on top, which stood ready in her fist. She also lifted a hand, and traced her finger idly through the air, creating a blue silk ribbon. She snatched it up, and tied it to the glass pendant in her hand, creating a necklace. "I crafted this spear from the wickedest of magicks. It will hold true to its bearer, and it is capable of sapping the Elementals' beloved gifts right from their feeble bodies."

Yaharé's eyes lit up. "For my use?"

Verrine grinned. I have her now. "For its own use, Yaharé. It grows more powerful with every kill, imbuing itself with the power of the slain." She smiled. "But, I thought that you might want to wield power yourself, so you can augment the spear with four, rather specific Elemental relics. Perhaps you know what I am referring to?"

"Of course," Yaharé breathed. "How could I not?" She swallowed, processing the idea of such power in her mind. How she could use it to achieve their deaths, once and for all. "And the necklace?"

"A repository for every soul from every body slain. It is my own as a Soul Reaver, for my vast energies are only as strong as the number of souls I can obtain. But if you let me join with you, I will let you have access to its power. While you wear it, the soul of every body that dies in your presence goes to the pendant. You can choose to let me keep the soul to use it as energy, or to bring the soul to life again, and have the body be bound to you forever." She slipped her grip on the ribbon ever so slightly, letting the pendant fall a bit before she tightened her hold on the necklace once again. Yaharé's eyes followed it, making sure it was not dashed to the ground and broken. Verrine noticed this. Oh, she is mine, wholly, completely! "It just so happens that I have been watching you for quite some time, long enough to witness your death myself. As a show of good will, I will give you back your body, but the immortality and all else is forbidden to you unless you accept. And this time, there is no poison to escape with." She let the words hang in the air for a moment, before she started to murmur an intricate chant quietly under her breath, her gaze on Yaharé never faltering. Then the chant became a yell, and she hurled the pendant into the air as it started to glow gold. It spun and spun...

...And fell, right back into Verrine's outstretched palm. Yaharé gasped, unable to control the impulse. She was back in the desert, back in her body. "I'm back," she whispered. She clasped a handful of sand in her hand, and threw it in the air. "I'm back!" She whipped her head around to face Verrine, who was still holding the spear and the necklace. "I accept," she said. "We are joined together." She held out a hand for Verrine to shake. "Your fealty?"

Verrine laughed and clasped Yaharé's hand eagerly. "You have it!"

A jolt of electricity lumped into Yaharé's palm, spreading inside her entire body. Verrine melted away, the spear and necklace suddenly finding themselves in Yaharé's hands. Yaharé writhed, eyes wide in pain and horror. Verrine had entered her body; Verrine was trying to possess her!

"What is this treachery?! You swore me fealty, foul demon!" Yaharé's voice cried out, but this time it was from within her own head, instead of out of her mouth.

"My fealty you have, Yaharé," Verrine spoke back, through Yaharé's mouth. She was quiet and calm, like a contented cat who had made its first kill of the day. "But it is only this way that your goals can be attained. I need your body to properly serve you. I will let you speak and act as you normally would, when permissible. I must control your body, however, and keep your soul. This way, I have a body, and you have my immortality and all of my various powers. You still win, Yaharé, only the human side of us can use my powers now." It was no small lie, but Verrine felt it would keep Yaharé in check.

"Very well. Let us leave this desert then. Now, I do not have to worry about the heat or the thirst, do I? We- I- march on the Plane in due time. The Relics will soon be mine, thanks to you, Verrine. When do we go?"

"When we are ready. I have many milleniums' worth of power for you to learn. It may take a few thousand years but the results will be most worthwhile."

Yaharé stood, now confident and cool in the desert sun. The older, weaker, Yaharé was gone now, as was Verrine. They could now be seen as equal halves of a greater being, a new Yaharé. One who could be seen as half-human and half-demon, but was, quite undeniably, all powerful.

END

Author's notes: Alright, you're back! Well, there it is, the eagerly anticipated ( at least, I hope) first chapter. It may not seem like much, but I feel it accomplishes quite a bit. Plus, this is just a warmup, because the next, official chapter will hopefully be twenty times as long (I'm writing it as I type this). So, keep reading, and please, review, for I always love to know your opinions and suggestions. My gratitude for everyone who has already read and reviewed Artemis, and was willing to pick this up as well. For those of you who started reading this before Artemis, and are wondering what the heck just happened, please read Artemis first. It explains it all. I'll say goodbye now, I hope to see you again in about a week, when Chapter One: Bittersweet Sixteen is unleashed on the unsuspecting populace of FF. net.