Chapter 1 - The Wyld Flower Prison Beyond Creation

Once, the Solar Exalted had marked the boundary between Creation and Chaos with vast, jade monoliths. The constructs were more than just signs, for they also denied the Wyld and protected Creation.

Then the Solar Exalted looked out into the Chaos that lay beyond these markers and chose to make the Wyld theirs. And so they pushed out the boundaries of their lands, turning chaos into order. Often the new boundaries were again indicated with the monoliths of Jade, either new crafted or moved out from the more stable places of Creation.

In time the Solars fell, and many died in that war. The Great Contagion came and 9 in 10 would die. The forces of chaos would rush into the weakened Creation at those times, taking back the lands that had once been wrested from their grasp.

Many of the monoliths were destroyed, but some remained, to protect against the chaotic influence of the Wyld.

Many were sentinel at the current edges of Creation, but some guarded lands that had long ago been reclaimed by Wyld, creating pockets of Creation in the border and middle marches of the Wyld.

Over the centuries these were discovered by the Lunar Exalted, who patrolled the Wyld, and the Lunars were all too glad to claim them and find a use for them.

The Wyld Flower Prison was a place the Lunars had constructed to hold their prisoners, though it had been centuries since the Silver Pact had seen fit to imprison anyone there.

To reach it one had to always pass through a field of always changing flowers, where pools of water flowed into the sky, and steel wolves hunted. The pollen of the flowers was a powerful soporific and an even more powerful aphrodisiac. The steel wolves would couple with any victim of the flowers before they devoured them.

Few passed safely through the flowers without powerful protection.

But those that did, once they stepped out of the flowers and onto the neat lawns around Wyld Flower Prison, were safe enough. The obelisk was three times the size of most others one might fight, and was made from red jade as well as white. The red jade would spit fire at any creature of the Wyld that dared to cross the threshold.

When the prison had been in use many of those held there were simply left to make their ways upon that lawn, for no guards were needed when stepping beyond the confines meant certain doom.

But there was a structure for those prisoners who might be resourceful enough to pass the flowers.

Hovering over the obelisk was a structure of dark grey material. The greater structure was ovoid, over five hundred feet in height. The smaller structure was shaped similar to the larger, but only a tenth the height. They were connected by a pipe two hundred feet long.

The larger was the prison, the smaller served as a gateway and administrative building.

A small staff had been left at the prison, to maintain it, to watch out for the interests of the Silver Pack, to remind the creatures of the Wyld that it was not forgotten.

It was a staff that had recently changed, younger people replacing the older, for the prison once more saw use.

A single prisoner was housed in the Wyld Flower Prison.

A Death Knight, captured by a Lunar, sent beyond the borders of Creation.

The prisoners' uniform was made of a soft, light blue material. Strong enough for regular wear, not so strong that the cloth might be used for much else than clothing. Pants, a loose, long sleeved shirt, and cloth slippers.

In the Nihilistic Courtesan's case the uniform had been altered slightly, giving her a burial cloak of black silk. Someone understood there might be issues denying a Death Knight at least a few of the trappings of death.

Courtesan was not entirely certain how long she had been there, months at least.

She knew she was somewhere in the Wyld. She did not remember the journey that had brought here there, but the sense of the chaotic energies was a weight that was always upon her.

Sitting in a chair that, like the uniform, was comfortable but lacked any real uses beyond sitting, Courtesan read a book. Her cell was comfortable enough, more a suite really, with bathing facilities and a small room where she might exercise.

She was mostly bored, occasionally angry, but for the most part she was patiently waiting and thinking. The voices of the Neverborn were faint, easily ignored, so far from Creation and surrounded by the Wyld. After being driven by those voices for so long, so hard, to be able to simply ignore them was a luxury she had never dreamed.

Escape was not completely absent from her thoughts, but it was only an occasional and not entirely welcome visitor.

A soft chime made her put the book to the side.

"What do you want to speak about today?" she asked.

A voice, female, probably, asked, "Tell me your name."

"I am called Nihilistic Courtesan," she said.

"Your real name. What they called you before you became a Death Knight."

"That name is gone," Courtesan said.

It was not the first time she and her questioners had danced around the topic, it had become more of a ritual, something to start off the interrogation.

"Perhaps you could tell me where you were born?"

It was a new question, and new questions always made Courtesan pay attention. She paused, seeking that familiar yet uncomfortable feeling that would tell her if the Lunar was present. She did not find it.

Her next thought was whether to answer the question. In the past failure to answer had made them leave her alone for days of boredom. She saw no real harm in what they asked and she hated the boredom.

"There was a town, about a days ride from Great Forks. It was called 'Wayfarer's Rest', but it was destroyed more than a year ago. That is where I was born."

"Are there any servants of the Walker in Darkness operating out of there?"

"I don't think so," she said, thought of course she did not know. She knew little of the Walker's true military strength and disposition of forces, though she had hold her questioners what she knew, suspecting it would not harm Walker in the slightest.

There were more questions, most she had heard before in one form or another, and she knew they were making sure her story stayed consistent.

They wanted to know about the Death Lords, the Never Born, about any other Death Knights she might know. She really knew so little, but she shared what information she did have.

There were no other new questions that day, and eventually the interrogation ended. They thanked her and that was all.

She left her seat, and the book she had been reading. She climbed onto her bed and pulled the cloak around her. When would they send someone in to interrogate her directly? There would be much to learn if they were face to face with her.

And that would give her a chance to take a hostage and escape; or at the very least tell her more about her captors.

That was probably why they handled the interrogations remotely, why she had not seen a single person since she had woken up in this cell.

Really, she just wanted to see another person. Loneliness was beginning to tell on her.

It was almost enough to make her miss the whispers.

The Fair Folk had always taken an interest in the pocket of Creation and the prison on it. It was a respectful interest, for the flowers and steel wolves were just as dangerous to the inhabitants of the Wyld as they were to visitors from Creation. And the lands protected by the jade obelisk were dangerous to all but the most powerful fair folk.

The fae creature that wandered the periphery of the flowers was not among the most powerful. It was a cataphract, a warrior caste fair folk, and it had made the patrol many times.

It paused, turning towards a new comer. "Well hello," it said, drawing a lengthy sword from across its back. "Shall we do battle this..."

The axe swung out, taking its head from its shoulders.

Garen served the Silver Pact, as his father and grandfather had. His great grandfather was a Lunar, and that bloodline allowed him access to some charms, and had awakened his essence. That bloodline also gave him goat like teeth and body hair that was more fur than hair.

He patrolled the lawn of the prison, sometimes looking out over the flowers. He was not tempted by them, for he had been told how dangerous they were, but he always looked to see if something was coming. He had not thought that his service to the Silver Pact would be as a prison guard.

A patch of silver amongst the pinks and reds of a particular field of flowers caught his eyes. He stepped closer, mindful of the boundary between the lawn and the flowers. Was he looking at one of the wolves? He took a collapsible spy glass from his long coat and snapped it open, then brought it to his eye.

It was a one of the steel wolves, or it had been. Something had cut its head off.

He was turning back towards the prison when the butt of an axe took him in his right side, snapping a few of his lower ribs.

A heavy weight fell on him.

"I have some questions I will need you to answer," his attacker said. "You will answer them."

The administrative section of the prison was reached, by most, by the lift system. The car rose up along a pole, opening on a short walkway. There should have been several guards there, both to stop possible escapes, and to examine anyone who might want to enter the prison.

It had been so long since the prison had been used that proper procedures had been forgotten.

No one stopped the figure in black who stepped from the lift and crossed the walkway to enter the prison.

Courtesan sat up on her bed, wondering if she had heard a scream. Turning her head she listened, wishing she had the essence to sharpen her senses. She could not be sure, there might have been an echo of the sound, but it was so faint.

Several minutes later she heard a louder sound. A loud click and metal sliding on metal. Then a section of wall she had suspected might hide a door opened up, confirming her suspicions.

A tall, middled aged man stepped into the room, pulled the door closed behind him, juggling a cloth bundle in his hands as he did so. "Here," he said after he had closed the door, and tossed the bundle towards Courtesan.

Curious, and a little off balance, she caught the bundle as she examined the man. Thick, curly brown hair, greying slightly, bushy beard, small brown eyes, pale skin; he might have been from almost anywhere in Creation, but for this wolf like ears and large teeth. He wore a black buff jacket and a long sword sheathed at his side.

The bundle he had given her was a light grey buff jacket and long knife, almost a short sword. "Someone has come for me," she said, and then pulled the buff jacket on.

"They are here for someone, and I can't see it being anyone else but you," he told her. His large teeth did not fit well in his mouth, and gave his voice a strange, flat tone.

"Did you see who it was?" She belted the knife around her waist, pulling at the blade to make sure it would easily slide free of the sheath. A bow would have made her feel better.

"No, not directly, but I heard whoever it is was dressed in all black armour, and carried a huge axe."

That might be anyone, Courtesan thought, but she only nodded.

"Follow me," the man said, crossing the room to another section of wall she had also been suspicious of. He did something with a small box, there was another click and again the sound of metal sliding on metal. He had opened another of the hidden doors.

She stepped out, he followed, closing the door behind them. They were in a long corridor, doors, like the one she had just exited, spaced along it in uneven intervals. The beastman went ahead, moving quickly, his long strides forcing her to run.

It had been so long since she had been near someone living she fancied she could smell his blood, and the essence it contained. However she was not certain that she might best him in the conflict it would require to get his blood. And at the moment she was fairly certain she needed his help.

They reached an intersection here the man paused, and Courtesan managed to catch up. He held up a hand to forestall any questions. He was listening, Courtesan realized, and she took a similar pose.

She saw him stiffen, and she thought she might have heard a scream.

"We're cut off," he said.

Courtesan looked around, licked her lips. "We have three different directions."

He shook his head. "All dead ends, or..." he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. "Go to the left, follow the corridor until it comes to an end. There will be a door there. Use this," he held the box out, "press the green and then the brown switches, that will open it."

She took the box, looking it over, taking note of the coloured switches and the small, coloured, gem like protrusions.

"When you open the door, look at the box. If the yellow gem is flashing don't continue into the room. It's a choke point, the room, and if the defences are active it will tear you apart."

"And if they are not active?"

"Cross the room, exit through the door directly opposite to the way you enter. Outside of the room, on the door frame, there is an indentation that will fit that box. Put it in and press the red and black switches. That will arm the room. Anyone following you will be the one torn apart, or at least slowed."

"What about you? What will you do?"

"I am going to continue straight, maybe lead them off, give you time."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

He smiled at her, showing his too many and too large teeth. "I swore to serve the Silver Pact's interests, even unto death. We were told to keep you contained, and to keep you safe." He turned and started away from her.

"Wait, what's your name?"

He looked back. "Mattou. If I don't make it, remember it will you? I don't plan to become a ghost, and it will be nice to know someone might think well of me." Then he turned away from her and continued on, lengthening his pace.

Courtesan watched him for a moment, then turned and ran down the corridor he had indicated, following it until she reached the door. The device she carried opened it, and the yellow gem remained dark.

Beyond the door was a large room, with several other doors leading into it. A choke point, she thought. In case of a mass escape, force the prisoners into one place to deal with them. Clever, she decided.

The far door opened for her, and outside the room, in a curving corridor, she found the indentation, followed the instructions she had been given.

Taking a few steps back brought her against the wall. She leaned against it, the box clutched tightly in her hands. Who had come for her, she wondered. Was the Faded Maiden chasing her once more, or had Walker sent someone else? Or was it the servant of some other Deathlord, perhaps the followers of the Mask of Winters, seeking some sort of revenge for her trespass on his lands?

Not enough information, she decided, and looked to her left and right, at the curving corridor that limited her visibility. After a moment she turned to her left and set off at a quick walk.

The corridor continued on with its gentle curve, and she wondered if it would eventually lead her back to where she had started. Before she might have that question answered Courtesan came upon a set of stairs, leading up and down. She paused for a moment, then chose to go up.

For perhaps an hour she wandered the prison, continuing upwards when she found stairs, sometimes opening doors to pass through cross corridors. It was a huge prison, with floors of suite like cells, similar to where she had been interned, and in other places the cells were simply single small rooms.

In a room that looked like a hospital she paused to look through storage cupboards. The medical supplies within looked old; bandages in paper covers that had grown brittle, bottles holding gummy liquids and various pastes and unguents that were almost powder.

Then she found the instruments. Several scalpels, their blades still honed razor sharp, as well as some spike like probes. From the back of one cupboard she found a wicked looking bone saw with a solid heft.

Her investigation was interrupted by a sound from outside the room; a soft, bumping sound. As it did not seem to be the sound of metal boots on the floor she crept to the door and opened it.

She found herself face to face with a zombie.

Courtesan had seen zombies before, but none so freshly dead, and none that attacked her. She leaped back, swinging the bone saw out, catching it across the skull, the blade crunching deep into bone. The zombie stumbled to the side yanking the bone saw from her hand.

Ducking to avoid its attempt to grab her, she ran out of the room, breathing heavily. No essence, and close up fights were not what she had been trained for. The safe distance of the bow was her preferred way of fighting.

Ahead of her another of the undead stumbled from a corridor, turning a ruined face towards her. She continued towards it, then dropped, sliding along the floor, under its graceless attempt to grab her, then rolled to her feet, running once more.

Two more zombies ahead of her forced her to double back, then climb a set of stairs to get clear.

She stopped for a moment, breathing heavily. The zombies must have been the prison's staff, now raised from the dead and set to hunt her.

Or herd her.

No time to dwell on that. She fled down another of the curved corridors, hoping to find another set of stairs. Ahead of her, coming around the the curve, she saw another group of zombies.

How were they moving so fast? There could not have been that many people to be raised.

As the dead were still some distance from her she paused for a moment, looking at them. She recognized Mattou, from his thick beard, thought it was covered in blood. She might have felt bad for the man, except she was too concerned with staying alive.

There was a door close by. Threading the interior corridors would take more time, but she could not go forward and did not want to go back. She unlocked the door, crossed the threshold and then locked the door behind her.

A moment later she was running again, along the corridors, seeking another door that would lead her to the outer corridor.

She opened a door, gently pushing it open, peeking through.

The door was suddenly yanked open, pulling her forward. She might have screamed, but a hand grasped her across the mouth, silencing her. She was pulled up straight, handled roughly, but her attacker was no zombie, nor figure in black armour. It was the Lunar who had captured her.

"Do not scream," she said softly.

Courtesan looked into dark eyes that held no sympathy. She nodded.

"Are you hurt." The hand came away from her mouth.

"No," Courtesan said.

"Then let's go." She took Courtesan's arm around the wrist and led her into a hallway, towards a blank wall.

With a box similar to the one that Courtesan herself carried she revealed a hidden door. Lightning directed Courtesan through the door, into a small room beyond. As soon as they were in the door closed and she felt the room begin to move.

"A lift?" she asked Lightning.

"People mover." Lightning released her hold. "Moves horizontally as well."

It might explain how the zombies kept up with her.

"Where are we going?"

"Out. We're leaving the prison."

The Lunar did not seemed to want to look at her anymore than she had to.

"How is it you are here, at this time?"

Her gaze shifted, she looked at Courtesan for a moment before looking elsewhere. "I heard some rumours of a Death Knight in the area. If they were true it was likely you were the target. Was almost too late I suppose."

Courtesan did not reply to that, not sure how to feel about her rescue.

The people mover shifted a few times, both up and down as well as sideways. The Lunar did not seem to be doing anything. Courtesan supposed she had set it when they had entered.

It stopped and the door opened. "Hold it," she said, looking at Courtesan.

Courtesan looked back. "What?"

"You are in no shape for this." She took a small knife from her belt and with a quick motion cut the skin between her wrist and elbow. "You need essence."

Courtesan leaned in towards the wound, the blood and the essence within. Her lips just touched the wound, the salty, coppery scent rich in her nose, when she pressed the blade of the knife against her neck. "Don't drink too much," she warned.

With a blade at her throat she put her lips around the wound and began to drink, feeling essence flow into her, feeling stronger for it. She wanted to drink so much, but she pulled her face away from the arm, wiped away at the blood around her lips. "Thank you."

The Lunar wiped at the blood on her arm, streaking it along her skin, the wound already closed. "Don't get used to the idea," she said, grabbed Courtesan around the wrist, and pulled her along.

They had not gone far before their way was blocked by several zombies; behind them stood a figure in black armour surrounded by the black flames of an Abyssal anima.

Even hidden as she was in the armour, Courtesan knew Faded Maiden of the Tomb.

"Damnable things." The Lunar released her hold on Courtesan and drew her daiklaive.

Across from them the Faded Maiden lifted her grimcleaver.

The two moved at each other, blades intersecting with a peel of steel on steel. The Faded Maiden leaned into her attack, trying to drive the daikliave down. The Lunar's body shifted, her form growing more muscular, and she lifted her blade, knocking the axe up high, sending the Faded Maiden back a few steps.

The zombies came at the Lunar, trying to grab her, to bite her. Sweeping her blade around her finished off a number of the dead, but slowed her, giving the Faded Maiden a moment to regain her footing. When she came at the Lunar again she did not attack with brute strength, but speed, her blade making fast, graceful sweeps, several of which contacted, leaving shallow gashes across the Lunar's skin.

She was forced to fall back as she blocked the axe blows, turning the blade, countering, her moonsilver daiklaive clanging against the armour as often as not. It was not slowing the Faded Maiden.

"Bugger this," she growled, as her form grew, scales flashing across her skin, fingers thickening, nails becoming claws. She was nearly three feet taller, and much heavier. It was the Lunar's warform, some strange amalgam of clawstrider and human. It was terrifying.

A heavily muscled arm lashed out with the daiklaive, scattering zombies and knocking the Faded Maiden into a wall. She grabbed Courtesan with the opposite clawed hand and charged forward, crushing the few zombies that tried to get in her way.

"Courtesan, you shall die, your ghost shall she stretched out before the Walker in Darkness and flayed for all its secrets!"

The shout had a force of will and essence behind it, bringing with it child winds that numbed Courtesan, leaving her frostbitten as if she had been out in a blizzard for days.

The Lunar picked up her pace, soon leaving the Faded Maiden behind, her voice fading.

She shifted back to her human form, pulling Courtesan along as she turned a corner into a long, straight corridor.

"Why didn't you kill her?" Courtesan asked. She was trembling from the cold that the Faded Maiden's attack had summoned.

"I didn't have time," she said as she held up her key box. Behind them a door closed off the corridor. "And she was more interested in killing you. Probably would have thrown her life away if she thought she could take you. I don't fight that kind of a crazy."

"What?"

"She wants you dead. Staying to fight was a stupid move."

For a moment she was too surprised to say anything. She could not quite understand the Faded Maiden being willing to die just to kill her. "The Walker in Darkness must have really worked her over."

Behind them they heard a sound, metal screeching on metal.

"She's going to cut her way through," she said, moving faster, pulling Courtesan roughly along.

The corridor exited into a large room, there were lockers there, and desks. "What is this?" Courtesan asked.

"Administrative section," she explained, releasing her hold on Courtesan as she turned her attention to the lockers.

Courtesan looked around, found a great deal of blood staining the floor. She supposed that the Faded Maiden had already passed through there.

She heard one of the lockers open, turned to find the Lunar holding out her soulsteel bow and a quiver of arrows. "Keep them in the main prison section. Don't let them get close."

Courtesan reached out and took the bow. It had been a long time since she had held it, but it was familiar to her, and as soon as she fed her essence into the weapon it was once more part of her. "What are you going to do?" She slung the quiver over her shoulder.

"Emergency protocol," she said brusquely, turning away from Courtesan.

Courtesan watched for a moment as she stopped before a closed door, using her key box to open it, stepping through.

She would have gone and looked in, but the screeching of the far off door being hacked through claimed her attention.

Drawing an arrow from the quiver she took a few steps, placing herself at the end of the corridor, looking down towards the far end. There were many rents in the door, it would not be long before it was breached.

She put the arrow to the string, drew back and released. The shaft zipped across the intervening space and slid through one of the rents.

Hard to say if she had hit anything, but the cutting stopped for a few seconds.

Then the door exploded forward, a number of zombies leading the way, the Faded Maiden in their wake.

Courtesan put several arrows down the hall in a matter of heartbeats, trying to hit the Faded Maiden, but with the zombies in the way she only managed glancing hits. Heavily armoured, the Faded Maiden continued moving forward, unhindered.

There as an alarm, but it was cut off in a moment, and she heard the Lunar yell something that might have been 'almost'.

Drawing on her dwindling essence Courtesan drew back, lined up her arrow, and released. On her forehead her caste mark bled down her face, as black flames danced around the head of the arrow. It punched straight through the head of one of the zombies, continued straight, and slammed in to the Faded Maiden's helm.

The wood of the shaft flexed, snapped, and the Faded Maiden stumbled backwards.

Courtesan knew she had missed the eye slot in the helm, even before the Faded Maiden straightened. However, she did not continue forward at such speed, and lifted her axe, holding it before her as if it were a shield.

Something banged loudly as metal rung out on metal, and the corridor moved.

The Lunar grabbed Courtesan from behind as the corridor fell away, and then spun, so fast that she only had a moment to see the Faded Maiden thrown up against the wall.

Then the huge form of the prison spun the corridor completely away, and she suddenly realized how huge her prison had been. Just as that was dawning on her the structure shot away from, moving faster and faster, dwindling in the distance. She could picture of the force of the acceleration tossing the Faded Maiden down the corridor and back into prison proper.

"What happened?"

"Emergency Protocol," she told her, slipping the quiver of arrows off of Courtesan's shoulder. "In case of mass prison break. It won't stop until it is several Way Points away."

"Way Points?" Courtesan looked at her.

"Hard to explain," the Lunar said, turning away and walking towards the exit. "It will be some time before she can catch up. She'll probably survive, unless something big decides to take interest in her."

Courtesan followed after her, looking at the bow that she had been left holding. The soul steel was solid, she might be able to hit her hard enough to knock her down, perhaps grab the quiver in the struggle. The bow string could even be used as a garrotte.

Their fight while falling from the Mask of Winters' citadel flashed through her mind. They had then fought pretty much to a draw, but the Lunar had enjoyed the support of that tiger and the child Solar. Now it would just be the two of them.

She had options. Not good ones. The Lunar's vast war form would likely render any attack she might make pointless. And Courtesan was almost depleted of essence.

And at the moment the Lunar seemed to be willing to protect Courtesan.

"What's your name?" She put the bow over her shoulder.

"You can call me Lightning," she said, not looking back.

A name that made sense, but probably not the one she had been born with.

Not that Courtesan was in the position to judge.

They exited to a small walkway that ended in a lift. Courtesan looked out a lawn, surrounded by a field of flowers.

"It looks beautiful," she said.

Lightning had stopped in the lift. She turned and offered her hand to Courtesan.

Courtesan, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest, reached out and took the offered hand.

Lightning clapped a manacle over Courtesan's wrist, turned her and locked her other hand in the matching manacle, securing both her hands behind her back.

Before she could say anything she felt a ball forced into her mouth, and then straps pulled tight around her head, gagging her.

As Lightning led her, tight hand on Courtesan's upper arm, Courtesan supposed it was sensible enough. She did bite after all.

The prison had come to a stop on a ridge made of porcelain plates and cups. Hundreds of thousands had been shattered by the impact, shards of sharp glass sliding down the ridge like water.

The Faded Maiden climbed from the corridor, looking out on an insane landscape of dinnerware. Below her at the base of the ridge a silver river of flatware flowed. There was, in the distance, a city, surrounded by a haze that made her suspect she would discover it made from tea pots.

She jumped down, glass crunching under her boots as she slid down the ridge.

"Courtesan," she hissed.

Notes About the Exalted World

The Topography of Creation and the Wyld

You can look at Creation as being a snow globe which floats within a sea of infinite possibility. The snow globe description is apt as Creation is a flat base covered by a dome of diamond to protect it from the Wyld. If is possible to leave Creation and enter the Wyld, but not advised. Close to the borders of Creation the Wyld has some pattern forced upon it, but the farther you go, the less the laws of Creation hold any sway. Eventually you would reach pure chaos, which is not an environment conducive to living. The Powerful Exalts and some gods can travel out into pure chaos, but not much else.

The Primordials who created Creation came from the Wyld. And there are other entities in that Chaos.

Music

White Lightning by Danny Michelle might describe how Lightning feels about Courtesan