A/N: Thought I'd publish this considering I haven't got any stories up yet, and I figured it was only a matter of time before people started wondering whether I created this account for the sole purpose of writing troll reviews. As you do. This story will appear as a chapter in a novella I'm currently writing. Enjoy.

From Amidst the Bloodbath

Eliza gritted her teeth as the symbol glowed on her belly, slowly healing the deep gash that ran from her torso to her right shoulder, and mending the broken bones in her rib cage. She pressed her bloody palms together. They became red as the sigils on her fingertips lit up and burned. She placed both hands face down on her thighs to mend the damage to her muscles. As her stomach wound slowly healed over, she took in her unfortunate surroundings.

The church was littered with dead bodies, the last of her followers. They were sliced to ribbons, blood coating the ceiling and the walls and the floor around her. Sweat glistened on her bare skin, but she dared not cry out in pain. For all she knew, he could still be out there. She turned her head and saw the man cleaved perfectly in two. If it wasn't for him, she would surely be dead by now.

What was his name again? Mathias. Yes, that was it. A faithful servant.

She had to find the others, she had to warn her Master. Slowly, carefully, she heaved herself upright and began dragging herself across her room. He could be waiting outside for her, waiting to finish what he started, but she had to risk it. She had to get back to China.

She'd heard the tales of course. The war was over. As far as she knew, this was the last church of the faceless, the last sanctuary of her followers. Thousands had turned their backs on the Faceless Ones. Cowards, all of them. Of those that still kept true to the faith, there weren't many. That much she knew. China was one of them. She could believe that snivelling mule, Serpine, would bend the knee to those heathens the moment he realised his life hung in the balance. But not China.

The rest of the Diablerie had scattered. She was the only one her Master could rely on to ensure the faith endured, while he led the resistance away. If it wasn't for orders, she would've been with her when they came. They could have fought together, like they always had. They could have survived together. It wasn't too late. I can still save her.

As she made herself stand, pain surged up her legs. She winced. Obviously the ligaments in her thighs hadn't fully healed. Leaning herself against the wall, she breathed heavily, scanning the church for any others who may have survived. The corpses remained motionless. Sweat was dripping down her face. Her hair fell across her eyes, half blinding her.

The church doors swayed gently on their busted hinges. Outside, pitch darkness awaited her. She struggled to keep one foot in front of the other. Every step was shaky, but she gritted her teeth to forget about the pain jolting through her body. Get out. Get out now.

She made it to the door and peered out into the night. No stars blinked at her from the black sky. She looked back into the church. They were all still there, sliced open and staring blankly. Dead. A gust of wind blew the doors opened fully, threatening to tear them off completely and making the candlelight inside flicker and go out. Enveloped in darkness, Eliza crept among the shadows, one hand outstretched and resting against the church wall for support. She blinked repeatedly to make her eyes adjust, but the shapes around her still blurred against her vision. Instead, she concentrated on listening for any sign of disturbance. None. All was quiet. She was alone.

Lightly tapping the symbols carved on both her eyelids, she opened her eyes and peered out at her surroundings. Everything appeared clearly, like it was the middle of the day. From afar, she knew her eyes where glowing a deep blue, lighting up the darkness. If someone was out there, it was too late. They already knew where she was. But she couldn't afford to let that worry her.

She turned, facing the church, her eyes appearing as two blue dots on the wall in front of her. Inch by inch, she dragged herself along the wall, until she came to the rear of the church. A clearing led out to the road. She checked her phone. No signal. Swearing silently, she let her arms fall to her sides, steadying herself, and limped towards the clearing.

She could almost hear the cars now, their headlights flashing against the tree trunks as they sped past; flashing against the man with the sniper aimed at her chest. She froze. From the shadows, they converged, encircling her. Armoured men, dressed all in black. There must have been at least thirty of them, Eliza didn't bother counting. She was far too busy already calculating her escape.

The man who had aimed at her, took off his mask and smiled. Leopold Avery. Of course.

"Hello again, Eliza," he said, with that voice of his, smooth as velvet.

Without another word, he strode up and cuffed her hands behind her back, and she felt her magic dampen. She didn't bother struggling. Leopold had always been a man of few words. So unlike his brother. Everything grew dark once more, but her eyes were well adjusted by now.

"Only thirty men, Leo," she replied, mockingly. "You've grown quite careless in your old age."

She heard a small laugh behind her. "These aren't ordinary men, Eliza."

She took a closer look at the men surrounding her. They stood unnaturally still, twin sickles sticking out from behind them, strapped to their backs.

"I hardly think it'll matter."

"And why is that?"

She didn't have to say anything else. The back door of the church blasted open. Before he turned to see what was happening, it flew and hit Leopold square in the chest, and he lurched backwards, taking out a ripper who was standing behind them. Eliza dived to her side, just in time, rolling onto her back. Around her, the circle dissolved as the rippers formed up to confront the new threat. Sickles were drawn in unison. One ripper stood out from the rest. He twirled his blades around his wrists. The others stood in triangular formation behind him.

She watched as her brothers and sisters walked steadily down the steps. Their skin was pale, but the gashes across their faces and chests and legs were a deep red. Bloodless. They moved like puppets, awkwardly shuffling with their eyes rolling into their skull and then back again. It was the first time she had seen this little trick with her own eyes. The enemy had had their fair share of it in many a battle.

She watched as a headless corpse went tumbling down the stairs, a black sickle sticking out of his back as he landed. No one was paying her any attention now. She turned onto her stomach, screwing her eyes shut and grunting in pain as fractured bones shifted in her rib cage. Bringing her arms in under her, she crawled past Leopold, lying unconscious under the door, and moved across the grass on her elbows. Behind her, she heard the sound of steel against flesh, and bodies hitting the ground. No screams. It was silent carnage.

She kept crawling, not daring to look back. There were more of them now. They would all be out, at least a hundred. Enough to buy her time. She could see the road now. Almost there. Glanced back, saw a ripper's head come off, kept crawling. More sounds of limbs falling and bodies crumpling, but she didn't care now, she was on the road. She pushed herself up to a sitting position. She couldn't see Leopold anymore. Rippers were falling rapidly. She saw one slash back and forth, taking down five of her followers, before falling to the weight of a dozen. Her eyes squinted as a car drove up to the side of the road, heaved herself to her feet, arms out-stretched to balance herself.

A man walked out of the car. He was wearing a bowler hat and a frown. She waited for him to come closer, waited for him to widen his eyes in awe as he saw the dishevelled red-head, standing there, crouched and bloody; and to peer into the trees to wonder where all the commotion was coming from, before pressing her thumb against the side of his head. His body jerked, and he fell beneath her. Wincing again, she knelt to pry the phone from his fingers, flipping it open as she limped to the car.

She slumped into the driver's seat, just as Leopold came running out onto the side of the road, swaying drunkenly. He glanced at the dead body on the ground, but glanced back up too late. Restraining herself from blasting a whole through his stomach, Eliza put her foot on the accelerator and drove into the traffic. The church erupted in flames, and she saw Leopold run back into the thicket. Behind her, cars slowed down to see the heavy plume of smoke drift above the trees. One hand on the wheel, she put the phone to her ear and heard the woman pick up on the other end.

"He's back," she said. Then, "and he's not on our side anymore."