A/N: Thanks for all the support so far! I hope you all enjoy a new chapter.

/--/-/-/-/-/--/

The Guild was lit by torches perched on the walls surrounding the main circular room of the building. There was a dim and ancient feeling to it, as if one could actually hear the voices of the Old Heroes that used to peruse up and down the halls. It had been abandoned years long since past and lost to time, until Theresa had guided Sparrow to it to reawaken its powers. Now there was a new life circulating within the walls of the Guild. Reaver could feel the wave of newness wash over him as soon as he stepped out of the portal. He looked around the room, mesmerized by the history written in the air around him.

He saw Garth and Hammer walking out of small chasms built into the walls, heading to the center of the room where he now saw Theresa waiting. Reaver looked down and realized a yellow light was emanating from the floor of the chasm he'd appeared in. Yellow represented the color of Skill, which led him to assume that Garth's light was red and Hammer's was blue. But which color represents Sparrow? I have seen her use all three abilities adeptly…

He walked forward, still carrying Sparrow in his arms, and made his way to the others. Theresa turned to him as he approached and laid her hand across Sparrow's forehead.

"Garth and Hammer, you may both go and rest in the private quarters." Theresa said without turning away from Sparrow.

The two Heroes exchanged glances with each other and then headed down a pathway that led to a different catacomb.

Reaver watched them go and then returned his attention to Theresa.

"Normal healing potions will do no good here." Theresa muttered, closing her eyes. "Little Sparrow has been dealt more damage than mere exhaustion. The affects of her lost youth have cut deep. On the inside she has the body of a seventy-year-old lady. It can not handle what she has asked of it to do."

Reaver felt the guilt weigh heavier than ever upon his shoulders as Theresa spoke. Sparrow wouldn't be in this state if it weren't for him tricking her into doing his dirty work. But still, I didn't think she'd actually sacrifice herself. She had no reason to. The people I send always let the miserable souls they find inside take the damage…and those souls aren't even human. They're ghosts that are just as conniving as I am. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Of course Sparrow hadn't realized the person she found weeping was just a trick of the eyes. Her pure heart had been so selfless and she'd done the noble thing. Curses.

"Reaver?"

He shook his thoughts away at Theresa's voice.

"What you did was low, yes. But do not blame yourself for Sparrow's choice. These effects can be erased."

"How?"

Theresa smiled. "Now is not the time. If we come out victorious from Lucien, you shall find out how."

Reaver sighed to himself. How odd it felt to actually care that he had done someone damage. He almost felt like…No. That was impossible.

"Come, Reaver."

Theresa turned and started down a path, and Reaver followed behind her anxiously. They left the main circular room behind and entered a smaller room. There were desks covered with phials and test tubes, and bookcases filled to their capacity lining the walls. A small bed was nested into the corner of the room. Theresa gestured towards it, and Reaver lay Sparrow's figure down upon the downy mattress.

"My task will no doubt consume the night." Theresa stated. "You may go rest and heal."

The woman turned away from him dismissively. Reaver took a last glance at Sparrow and then left the room for the private quarters. Garth and Hammer were talking lowly to each other when he entered the quarters. Reaver paid them no heed and found an unoccupied room, closing the door shut behind him. The room was nothing fancy, nothing at all in comparison to his mansion. There was a bed, a bookcase, and a chest. He went to the bed and lay down, sighing. Even though he had been given eternal youth, he felt all of his 200 years weighing down upon him. His hands and feet were still strong and shapely, but he felt the bones creaking as if they were wrinkled and frail. His body still had all the muscle he had acquired during youth, but he felt sore and worn. He longed to feel real youth once more. Perhaps this was but a taste of what the Shadow Judges had dealt to Sparrow. His mind getting foggy, Reaver fell into a disturbed and troubling sleep.

/-/-/-/-/-/

The cave loomed dauntingly in front of him, the door already creaking open, and the light from inside pouring out invitingly. The young man stood stock still, his sword pistol lowered beside him in his firm grip. Behind him the dead banshee began to evaporate into the moonlight. Further behind lay the small town of Oakvale, asleep at the late hour. The door to one of the small houses had been left open, and the cold air was wafting inside. The empty bed on the second floor had its sheets flung back, unused. No body was in this house, but somebody had been not very long ago.

Finally the man walked into the cave, knowing it was the only way to get what he had desired for so long. The door creaked shut, and suddenly the warm light flickered away, leaving him in a dark and lonely tunnel that left him no choice but to keep going forward. In the darkness, no sound escaped the man's ears. Not the growling of the looming stalkers, nor the low moaning that ebbed and sank throughout the tunnel. His sharp eyes could detect the shadowy shapes of the creatures lurking around him, and he held his pistol ready to use if need be. His throat constricted in the thin air that he inhaled.

He came to a large open room, with columns rising up to the ceiling but not touching it. Rusted chains dangled from the columns, clinking as he walked slowly into the room. One by one the shadowy balvarines jumped down from their perches and landed on either side of the man. He held out his pistol, aiming at the nearest one. His finger rested on the trigger, untrusting. The balvarines stayed where it was, hissing and growling, but coming no further. The protection that had been granted to the man was true to its speaker's words. He kept going slowly through the room, the balvarines still jumping down all around him. They left him a path to walk through their masses, but he still kept his finger poised on the trigger as he moved through them. His eyes were hard and determined; he would kill the creatures if they dared come too close, and they sensed it. After what seemed like an eternity of wading through the balvarines, the man saw the next door and sighed in relief when it swung open to permit his entrance. The balvarines stayed in their room, hissing as he departed.

Finally the man came to room where everything would happen. He knelt on one knee before the three statues as they twisted to life, smiling cruelly at him.

"So you have thought over our offer?" The shadow in the middle and the one right before him asked in a rasping voice that sounded more dead than alive.

"I have."

"And what is your answer?"

There was a long moment loaded with anticipation from the three shadows, as the man thought through his choice one last time.

"I will accept your offer."

"Excellent…." The middle shadow rasped. "You must remember to keep up your part of the deal on time when it comes to be the right time, or else the deal is nullified and you will have to return to make a new bargain, or give us your soul. Now be gone while our feast begins…" As the shadow finished, the cave began shaking violently, and the three shadows twisted together to form one large cloud of blackness, and then soared upwards into the never-ending ceiling of the cave.

The man felt himself being consumed in fire, and his insides seemed to be ripping apart. His body lifted from the ground as a swarm of darkness circled around him with a deadly speed. The man cried out in pain, as it seemed like all his organs were being torn from inside him, and being replaced by hard and heavy ones. Finally the swarm left him to follow the shadows up to the ceiling. The man's body fell to the ground with a loud thud. He felt a pain from the impact, but when he looked at the skin that had hit, he saw no bruise forming. He held out his hand and pulled out his dagger with the other, and then sliced his hand. He felt a burning sensation where the blade bit, but no blood seeped out of the wound. In an instant the burning was gone and the cut disappeared, leaving no sign behind at all that it had ever been. Extraordinary…

Suddenly the cave resumed its shaking and the man dashed for the exit to his left. He saw the door open already, and he sprinted out into the night air. The door shut itself, and the man gathered himself calmly.

A gut-wrenching scream rent the silence around him. The man's blood went cold as more screams followed the first. Screams from voices he recognized. He looked and saw the town of Oakvale being flooded by the shadowy balvarines that had left him alone in the cave. Three larger shadows floated in the air above the town like dragons ready to scorch a helpless village. Even from the distance, he could see people running through the streets desperately trying to escape. Sadly, he realized none of them would. Because of me…

Horror ripped through the man's heart and the full impact of his decision finally hit home. How selfish he had been. What could be worth all the lives of the people he had grown up with? Had he really thought that he could accept the offer and then come back home happy as ever? Everyone was going to die. Everyone except him…Oakvale would be reduced to nothing but a deserted ghost town overridden with banshees and hobbes. And what did he get in return for this? Infinite time to wallow in self-repulsion at what he had done.

Not able to bear hearing those heart-wrenching screams any longer, the man began to run. His heart pounded and his head ached horribly as he dashed through fields of peaceful flowers and forested woods, with no idea where he was headed. He'd go anywhere to escape those screams…

/-/-/-/-/-/

"No!"

Reaver woke with a start and sat up in the bed. He'd had the nightmare again. He shook his head to be rid of the drowsiness that always followed sleep and got up. He hated having that nightmare. He hadn't had it in a long time. I left that man behind long ago. He told himself, shaking away the nightmare's after effects.

Suddenly he wondered if Sparrow was better yet. Leaving his room, he made his way through the private quarters and back to the room he'd left Theresa in with Sparrow. He peered into the room before entering and saw that Theresa was gone. Sparrow was still lying on the bed, and still had her eyes closed. Reaver sighed. She did exactly the opposite of what I did…Reaver realized that this woman was more than just an alluring adventurer that had needed his help when she first came to him. She was what his answer should have been. She was whom he could have become if only he'd had to selflessness needed to refuse greed.

All at once he harbored a great hatred for her, and also a seed of love. He hated her for doing what he could not, but he found that he could love her more than this hatred, if he let himself. Perhaps after the whole saving the world business, she might be interested in saving him. Reaver sighed. Without even trying to, Sparrow had already begun to peel away the shell he'd placed around himself to keep all others out of his way, and to keep his unbearable memories away.

It's worth a try…