I promised you would get more substance, and substance you will get! So, I've been trying not to make this as dark as the original version, but it eventually ends up that way so, it seems it was a wasted effort. Grievous, at least in my mind and ignoring the dreadful lack of justice they did him in canon, is a dark character anyway, so it was bound to be reflected here eventually. I would like to thank all the school friends with whom I have have conversations about this story and all the little details therein so far! Thanks, chums!

Most everything I have written with Rahkah and Yeiro so far has been intentionally vague, and I can assure you that it will remain that way up until the end of the story. I hope that the resolution and subsequent information is worth the wait. I just don't want to give more than little nuggets of information away so early on in their plotline.

As for the "treachery" part of this chapter, it includes original ideas and a whole, heck of a lot of dialogue. I hope you all enjoy this one, as I tried to make it longer!

Chapter 13~Treachery?

Civilians struggled to disperse. Smoke was everywhere, along with the dilapidated remains of what used to be a flourishing conurbation. The innocent; crushed and dying by fallen walls, beckoned their friends and allies that couldn't hear their pleas.

Many congregated in one universal area, which they hoped was safe enough for them.

They were wrong.

They were wiped out before the militia. They were made up of those who wanted nothing to do with this controversy. They were mostly young individuals, of whom knew nothing of self defense.

The last thing some of them saw, was the menacing shape coming at them, the visible eyes telling them to die more than any word ever could.

After that, their dead, compacted carcasses were only a hindrance to the rival troops that trampled them as if they were nothing more then dirt under their feet.

The leader of this operation, lofty and threatening, came upon a straggler; a barely matured one who had a long gash on its foreleg. He laughed to himself before cutting it down. He jumped atop the deceased, and with a viciously satisfied grin watched the army advance on the fleeing, cutting them down as they did the others.

There was no escape. None of the discernable were spared. And none were allowed to get away. Soon, the mass group was reduced to a crumpled layer of lifeless remains, just as violently as all the others.

At long last, the armies were lead away, kicking a path through the bloody accumulation, and leaving all that were decimated that day to rot...

He was through. The job was finished, and at last he was contented with the slaughter he had arranged. His legions had done well, and there would be much veneration in store for them when they all arrived back home to their families. His would be pleased with him as well...

Unfortunately their admiration is not mine... He thought with a resentful scowl. The costs of war...

He sometimes wished more then anything to run. But that would be disgraceful to him and his mercenaries. He was too strong for that. Too strong to stand by, cowering in the shadows while his people suffered under the ruthless oppression of the adversaries bloody attacks.

With every breath when in battle, he reflected unambiguous suggestions as to his abilities, and constantly strived to improve little things in his customized fighting technique. He wanted to destroy as many of them as he could. The hatred for those corrupt creatures effected his concentration, and he frequently found himself pacing furiously, easily angered to the level of unlawful death if bothered. When he was home, he never spoke, he just locked himself away, immersed in happier times and incuriously, despairing and questioning his will to live. And it was a determination to end it all that drove him on when it all came down to it, as strange a motivation as it seemed.

He separated from his troops, ordering one of his guards to take charge of them. Finding a place, he stopped and waited, edgily wringing his hand behind his back. Moments later distant cries of agony reached his ears. The report had not come and his impatience was building. The messenger must have been attacked or killed, yet something inside told him that death was not the case. He had received his fair share of that torment as it was...

After not seeing home for months, he had grown to forget his own family, and no longer dwelled on sentimentality of that sort. Being a killer was enough for him. However... there were also other things, more personal reasons that had been made known to him in his dreams, and he no longer had a reason to live because of it.

He heard the footsteps before he heard the discordant voice of his most faithful. "Sir," his protector addressed, keeping his head lowered in respect, "We have wiped out the last of them."

When he didn't answer, the man moved closer, and spoke more forcefully. "What will you have us do?"

Unsettled, the he turned his head in the direction of his accomplice, his eyes burning with murderous hatred behind his masked face. "We hunt him..."

"You must not allow the crossing to be successful." Dooku ordered coldly to the unfortunate Geonosian who happened to be the one who was the most available. "I do not care what you have to do, but you can not let him get off this easy. He assumed that this mission would be easy, but I assure you, if you're fond of living, you will do as I say..."

The insect, scared out of its mind by that point, concurred rapidly and disappeared. Dooku though over the possible mistakes of this choice; to destroy a potentially good assignment. He finally decided that if the his plan worked out, the undertaking would be a complete and utter victory that he would take over gaining a world's loyalty any day...

The excellence of it all...

"Thickheaded imbeciles!" Grievous shouted, judging the ship they had promised him in a hostile manner. "Do you really expect me to believe that this is the best your mechanically advanced race can provide me with?!"

The particular Geonosian, a technologist by the looks of it, replied in perfectly fine basic, "No, sir, I do not believe that. But at this moment, this is the only craft we have on our hands. If you were to have gone to a site near the more rural area, you would have been given the best of the best, sir."

Grievous looked out into the endless wasteland, then at the ship. When compared, the two were practically the same in the way of intolerance, but the general, with patent denial, hauled himself over to the transport and inspected it carefully. When examined up close, it didn't seem in that bad of shape, but when scrutinized from afar, it was quite the disappointment. From Grievous's growing experience with things such as this, he said to waiting Geonosian, "How fast is it?"

"Sir," the pest of a lifeform answered. "She may be long-standing, but she still can elude just about any other ship on this planet. Old model, meant for speed, originally."

It didn't look that way. "In that case... Have the one you chose as pilot be ready to move out immediately. I grow tired of this place." It brings back old memories...

"Yes, sir." The Geonosian scurried off, leaving Grievous to come to terms with the calling to just forget the transportation and walk right through the three day desert, with or without his maddening underling.

He leaned his head against the hull, muttering words he wasn't even aware of.

"There are other ways..." Athela's voice had a sense of fact to it. "You could get in touch with your command ship and they could send help."

Grievous stood straight up, his impressive eight foot stature dwarfing all other organisms around him. "Contact my ship?" He growled imposingly. "Contact my ship!?"

As much as he endeavored to, he could not make her back down this time. "Yes! Yes! Your ship! You know, the one that belongs to you...?!"

Circumventing violent incites, he controlled his voice enough to rasp, "If you wish to remain unscathed during your time with us, I strongly suggest you hold your tongue."

Just when he thought that he had finally shut her up, she came back again, infuriating him even greater then she already did. It did make him wonder about her bravado... even if he wanted to asphyxiate her. He couldn't remember, but he was almost certain that he had learned enough respect towards those who were higher rank then him at a young age. Then he had rose high above them all, and hadn't had to worry about such things since, but this obviously knowledgeable fighter should have been taught exactly that from the start.

"There'll come a day when you finally figure out that no threat you make can make me revere you in the way you want, sir. Sure, I respect you as a military leader; as a General, but I am not one to be pushed around because-"

"I know! There is no need to tell me why! I already know why!"

"Oh really... How thoughtful of you to take into account the troubles of others for once in your life." Athela persisted wryly. "'Never thought you had it in you..."

There was only one way to get rid of a parasite without killing it, though Grievous found it dishonorable, he knew it would be the easiest way to avoid the voices in his head that were telling him to destroy her.

And that was to simply walk away.

She didn't follow.

Athela watched him prowl off with the fulfillment of winning. She realized she had just slighted a powerful being, but no creature who was a supremacist deserved to be treated charitably. If she was given the chance she would show him a thing or two about how off he really was...

He thinks I am weak does he? Useless, he thinks! Well he's in for a rude awakening when-

"Excuse me?" A timid question wrecked her train of thought.

She jumped back when she saw the small Geonosian standing there, looking at her with a most mystified appearance to him. "Yes...? Can I help you with something...?"

"You came with that horrid creature?" He motioned with his head in the direction the leader had gone.

Athela evaluated the insects honest novelty a moment before slowly indicating agreement. "Yes, I did. Is that a problem?"

"Only if you have a problem with all the insults my species pay him behind his back..." The Geonosian muttered. "But he does treat you badly, right?"

"Oh, you have no idea, my friend. By this point I'd rather be dead!"

"So, it is true then, what they say?"

"It depends on what that is."

"He really did spare you?" Again, Athela nodded slowly. Obviously... "Incredible! I heard about you! They told me!" He fidgeted, bobbling excitedly. "They-they told me there was no way you would survive this long! But here you are, talking to and standing right in front of me! And unhurt in any way!"

Athela's hand strayed to her neck, which still was scarred from the near death scolding she received many days back. "Um-thank... you...?" She didn't have anything else better to say at the aliens display of enthusiasm. "Tell me again why you are here? You do not seem as-uh-old as the others."

"I observe my hivemates work and will be designated a profession of my own when I reach maturity." The Geonosian stated proudly, straitening up. "It will not be long now. I hear working in our factories is exceptionally rewarding..."

"Factories? You mean modernized production plants? Do you get in trouble if you make one little error?" Athela had quickly become interested in what went on outside her small world, and asked questions as often as she could. The general would rarely be in a "question\answer" type of mood, and he offered little in the informational category. She planned on asking most of her inquiries to Count Dooku, but for now, this insect looked as if he had the patience to answer what she had to ask. "What do you manufacture?"

"Yes. Yes. And yes." He answered the first three questions rather rapidly, anxious to move on to the last. "We create the droids that fight for the Separatists. We turn them out by the thousands every day and they get sent to various Confederacy bases all over the galaxy. Most, though, go to that waste of perfectly good metal for inspection. He quick looks them over and usually obliterates half of the group because he simply doesn't like them."

"What is with him and droids?"

"That..." The Geonosian paused. "I can't say. I do not know. I have very little knowledge of him. All I know is that there were a lot of my older acquaintances killed the day he awoke from his little alteration. Other then that..."

Athela, wanting to get off the subject, input quickly, "So, why doesn't this area have access to the technology that the bordering one does?"

"We don't necessarily lack the equipment of our richer neighbors... but I am the wrong one to ask. They never fill me in on those details."

"Ah. Yes. I am sorry. I guess that would be a problem."

"Come, come!" There was a renewed anticipation in his voice. "I will introduce you to my friends. They have been wondering about you ever since they heard."

This made Athela worried about what terrible things had been going around about her. The last thing she wanted were ill-mannered rumors about the situation, and she at once knew that it would be no easy ride from here. As she followed the insectoid, she became apprehensive of what kind of people she would meet; what they conjured up in their minds, from the stares she got. These Geonosians knew who she was, and who she had come with. Back at them, she offered a small, quirky smile, and kept moving. Her guide talked on continuously, but she only remotely heard him, for she was lost in the great architecture of the lofty, suddenly greatly spacious area. The red rock had been completely carved out until it was large enough to construct different levels and flights of stairs in. Pillars rose to the ceiling, preventing cave-ins and adding to the already spectacular array of objects.

The Geonosian noticed her gawking half way through, and interposed, "Such works of art my ancestors created. We have only to append what already exists. Do you have any such things on your world?" He wasn't trying to be smug about anything, and Athela reacted completely in awe.

"We-have little as grand as this... The only structures of worth are our great temples. There are also ruins, but none know of what they once were or how they got there. I personally assume they were from when those offworlders came centuries ago. But this... I have never seen anything like it..."

The sound of the Geonosian language filled her ears, her head snapping down to see three other young ones-much like her friend-standing together in front of her. They pointed and made animated gestures towards her, chattering away in their tongue. One reached out and poked at her shoulder, gasping and jumping back, its wings twitching and eyes wide. Its two companions laughed, and said something to her guide. He nodded and translated. "They thought you were a figment."

"Can they understand what I am saying?"

"Yes."

Athela stepped up to them. "Your friend here tells me you wonder why I am alive."

They agreed, the one who had poked her joked with the one nearest to it, the two then breaking out into a fresh round of amusement. Athela glared at the basic speaking one, who stood off to the side so she wouldn't get confused about who was who.

"He claims that-" The Geonosian stopped when the other repeated his joke, tense. "Wait. No... never mind. You probably don't want to know."

She frowned in disgust, holding back a presumably equal insult. "And these are the vaunted friends that were so excited that I lived? I think you have your cohorts mixed up..."

"Well I-" He was interrupted again while one that hadn't talked yet piped up. "Oh, all right. He wants me to tell you that he saw the general, and that he was looking for you... He also said some other things, but I figured I would leave those out for your own-"

Before he could finish, Athela had started back the way she came from, with her guide following close behind, shouting something back at his fellow aliens in his language. She heard him say something choked off as she hustled back through the tunnels to the landing area.

When she arrived back, she found the cyborg barking orders at who she knew to be their pilot. As much as she tried to stay out of sight, it was like he had eyes in the back of his head, and he saw he before she even had a chance. "And where have you been?" He demanded impatiently, not bothering to acknowledge the Geonosian. "Off loitering no doubt... Never mind that. We are leaving."

Athela glanced once at her guide, nodded a farewell, and quickly boarded the ship before she ended up being thrust into it. The inside of it was almost exactly like that of the newer variety they had disembarked from, except painfully smaller.

Three days stuck in here huh...? Great...

Rahkah walked unaccompanied through the dark trees, adrift in thought. Something was about to happen; his dreams over the past few days told it all.

From time to time he would wonder why he was still living. He surely didn't have providence on his side, and had not only disgraced his name in the past, but had also disgraced the names of so many others. One needed only to ask about his upbringing to know that...

Rahkah wasn't one to talk about his depressing childhood. It had all started out fine-with the normal family unit and many siblings to grow up with. His mother had left when he was very small, leaving him in the care of his father, who was a brutal and heartless man. Rahkah was raised under the teachings that if life was ruthless to him, he should be ruthless back; destroying to get what he wanted. By the age of seven, he had already eradicated some of his brothers to get his hands on a plaything or a sort of domesticated creature. He killed his way through life after that, and he became bitter. The only thing he could do to temporarily be rid himself of the anger in his heart was to go out hunting. As a young teenager, he continued to search for a meaning in life, and eventually fled his home when his father threatened him severely. He reached the age of sixteen the to enlist in the armies, where he met the leader of the seven at that time, who had been considerably younger back then. For the first time, he felt accepted, and saw a light at the end of the dark tunnel of his existence. Some could say things started looking up for Rahkah from there, yet Rahkah himself still wanted more.

A substantiality came to him when he discovered a young man, who had a father with such a reputation that only the gods overshadowed it. The boy was thirteen at the time Rahkah was twenty five, and a strong, mentoring bond had formed after that. Then, Rahkah had fallen into black, and took on a very different lifestyle than his growing friend showed signs of having. Rahkah was converted into a disreputable personage, proceeding to forget completely about the war and everything he stood for over the course of eight long, agonizing years until he rejoined his fellow warriors on the battlefield once more. He stole from his old home, stopping short of assassinating his corrupt father, but only because he was caught by guards and had to make a hasty getaway to save his own neck. He had a family of his own by that point, but never had time for more then a quick pat on the head for his children and a wordless goodbye for his wives. Up until his alleged death, his life had been secretive and explicitly deranged. Many times he would find himself gazing up at the sky, uttering silent prayers to his ancestors in a sad endeavor to clean up his ways... but it never seemed to work, and he had given up trying to change his ways now-fraudulent and miserable.

He couldn't even begin to count the days when he had to put on a fake disposition; when he had to pretend to be what he wasn't. Then... well, then, everything deteriorated. It was all the fault of his fellow commander and friend; the thirteen year old who had then been twenty four. In watching him, Rahkah's eyes were opened to what he really was missing. The incompleteness that became clear to him developed into something so merciless that Rahkah couldn't control it. He grew to be an entirely different person, and for another three years after that, he stayed in hiding; watching from the shadows far too many times. People had begun to fear him, and would shy away if they even caught sight of him at a distance. His own family was alarmed if he arrived home unexpectedly, yet through it all, they were the only ones out of the military that didn't truly fear his affects on individuals.

Yes, he had made terrible mistakes, and had dark secrets that only the gods knew, but he was remorseful about it all, and would change it if he could. Which he couldn't... Dealings had occurred for the worst before the rebellion, and it had seemed as if the whole planet had divided over loyalty. Some had remained faithful to the remaining four, while the other two amassed most of the populace to them. Rahkah only watched-feeling appallingly guilty for previous actions...

Things were rather a blur after that, and all he could-and wanted to-remember was the night he almost lost his life. He remembered what the fight was about, quite clearly, and he knew that he shouldn't have said some things, or confessed some things either. Rahkah's agitator spirit had caused him to spread trouble among the ranks, and he had created unrest for many months. Nevertheless, he hoped that all was forgiven by this point, or he would be more doomed than he already was.

And he most surely was.

"Oh, no sir you unquestionably are right, I am not much of a people person and prefer to remain by myself, thank you very much. I come from very far away and never get the opportunity to meet such a notorious persona. My name is Athela Erihdiy. Pleased to make your acquaintance, I have heard so much about you."

"I'm flattered, it is not every day that I meet an admirer of mine... May I ask how you know of me?"

"No, I am afraid I cannot disclose that information to you. I know many things that are not fit to be discussed in such uncivilized places."

"May I ask why you are here in this unsophisticated locality then, Miss?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could provide some enlightenment for me, since you appear to know so much. I am searching for someone; an old... friend of my family. Perhaps you would know them?"

The recurring conversation faded before Grievous could learn more, and he was sure that it had to be true. He did know Athela. Now, all he needed to pinpoint, was where, and how... Under what circumstances had they met? What exactly was the basis of their correlation?

As if it would somehow aid his contemplation, he withdrew the pendant he had taken from her many days earlier. He studied it even closer, looking for anything that would ignite a memory. There was nothing. It was a perfect object-not a scratch on the thing!

Grievous looked over to Athela, who seemed startlingly lost...

He tilted his head, optically scanning her face. In the back of his mind, he had this strange feeling that there should have been a long, winding scar running from her jaw, up through her right eye to her forehead, but that could have been anyone. It could have been his own mother who had that feature and he wouldn't commit to memory! But... No... It should have been-

"Tell me," to his own revelation, he heard himself talking; felt himself standing. Athela stared at him as if he had just discovered benevolence, and gaped as he walked towards her. "Did you once have a scar on your face?"

"I-I'm sorry...? A-a scar-on-on my face?" She blinked. "Why do you want to know?"

"Curiosity, purely. Did you or did you not once have a minor disfigurement right," he paused to roughly place a finger on her forehead, causing her to yelp from the force he could not prevent. "Here," replacing his index finger on her jaw he attempted to picture it, "to here?"

She prolonged her gaping, and Grievous withdrew while she formulated a decent reply that astonishingly didn't involve derision on his part. "N-no sir... I-I-" she shook her head, confused. "I don't think I've ever had a scar there... sir."

"Never?"

"I don't think so..."

"A relative of yours?"

"'Don't have any. They are all dead."

"Good for them." Grievous said dryly, taking his seat again.

"Um-not to sound offensive or anything, but why do you care?"

Athela wanted to know why did she? He didn't have an answer for her that wouldn't give anything about himself away, so he replied simply: "That is not for you to know."

"Yeah... never mind... I shouldn't have asked."

No disagreement there... "You are right. You should not have. My motives are my own."

That was no lie. Grievous never revealed his purposes to anyone, even when mortal.

"What value is it to you?"

His attention, momentarily centered on the floor, flicked back to her. "What? Can I not have a reason to keep some things to myself!?" Only then, did she point at her pendant, which he still held in one hand. "A bit meddlesome are we?"

"Well... yes, considering that you stole it from me!" Athela stifled what she really wanted to say and struggled to control her voice. "You really don't understand how important it is to me! It belonged to-"

"I do not care who it belonged to! You-"

He was interrupted by the clicking of the Geonosian pilot. Not knowing what to make of it, he rose quickly and entered the cockpit. The vermin was landing the ship!

"Just what do you think you are doing?!" Grievous snarled, but it was useless. By not being acquainted with the Geonosian tongue, he couldn't know what was wrong. "Is there something wrong with this craft?" It was the only valid reason. The pilot wagged his head up and down energetically, making hand motions towards the controls and blathering on.

Wrenching the poor creature from his chair, Grievous quickly sat down and ran a series of checks on the current condition of the ship. What he saw infuriated him.

"What is this!?" He shouted at the insect, gesturing at the screen in front of him. "WHAT IS THIS!?"

The Geonosian was crushed against the viewport before he could say more.

Now what...?

"Is there something wrong?" Athela appeared in the doorway, gazing across the desert. "What happened? Why did we land?" She cringed when she saw the dead alien lying compacted on the floor. "And why is he dead?"

Grievous ignored her, talking mainly to himself. "So they really are traitors after all. They did this to kill me... to get reimbursed for my failure... Unless... This could have been planned beforehand, so I would have to go out of the way... Could this possibly be why Dooku asked me about-" He swerved to Athela. "Prepare yourself. From here, we walk." He released the exit ramp.

"Wait! Hold on a minute! Can't you fix this thing?"

"Why would I try?" He snapped. "It would be more convenient for me to simply purchase a whole new ship! Repair it..." Grievous scoffed. "I do not make it a point to waste time on things I can others to do just as well for me!" He sighed and headed to the way out, pausing only just. "If you can not keep up with me-go rot and save me the trouble of disposing of you."

He took a deep breath, and stepped out into the blazing sun.

Yeiro wondered where Rahkah had gone, until he discovered the man standing completely still in the middle of a small clearing in the trees. The warrior had his head inclined back, staring up at the sky with the sun bearing down hard on his back. He looked to be unaware of his surroundings, but as soon as Yeiro got close enough, he turned around, a smile spreading across his face.

"Yeiro," he said, almost weakly. "'Get some much wanted sleep?"

"Yes, thank you; I did. I've been looking for you for a while though... Have you been here this whole time?" Yeiro watched Rahkah nod slowly. "Are you okay, sir?"

Rahkah shook it off. "Yes! Of course! But, please, kill the "sir". To quote an old friend of mine, "formalities such as the term "sir" are fit for only those who are hardhearted to consent to other titles". Call me Rahkah, its what all my friends used to call me."

"Okay-Rahkah. That thing you said, it sounded familiar..."

"Ah..." Rahkah closed his eyes for a second. "The young man wants to know. No fear. All pain. Just like what once was. I can see why he-" There was a pause. "Yeiro, if I tried to describe them, I would probably insult them, you understand?"

"Yes, but you hold so many secrets! I am surprised you can stand it!"

"Trust me, kid. I can't. I dread I never will..."

Yeiro began to get scared. "Why?" He asked breathlessly, anticipating something terrible.

A long silence followed, and Yeiro noticed that Rahkah was struggling with something mentally. Finally, he asked, "Does the name Kummar hold any meaning to you?"

Yeiro knew the name, but there was no connotation to it at all. "I have heard it used on the odd occasion-the name of a deity isn't it?" Rahkah nodded. "I'm afraid I do not have much information though. I was only told so much by my mother, who knew very little and kept most of what she knew to herself."

Rahkah gave a short laugh. "Then she was a better person then I first had the impression of... No one was bold enough to even say the name after everything happened." His eyes had a distant look in them as he spoke. "I remember it all like it was yesterday. The aggression... There were so many dead opposers among our own people that I feared a complete revolt... all concerning one who is now no more then a memory to those who saw the dark times. Weird how it all fell apart, huh?"

"Wait. I'm confused... You're saying you knew this..." Yeiro made a spherical motion in the air searching for a innocuous word. "Person, who it now dead and has no relevance to the society?"

"Relevance to the- Of course she had relevance! 'One of them filthy half-breed gods she was. No doubt possessed somehow, 'cause she had an effect on all of us. Do not even begin to assume that everything was what it seemed, my young learner. There was much silence between all of us after our group of six became seven-"

Yeiro stopped him. "So that is it then! You didn't want to tell me before, yet... you do now. May I ask again: why?"

"Things... happened; have been happening to me. I don't sleep anymore. I have no inner virtue as I did before I met you. But the truly frightening thing is, Yeiro, I know why."

It had been a long, wearing day of roving without rest for Athela. She had been forced to walk unsteadily after the general ever since they left the safety of that trashy ship.

She felt like collapsing, and aside from the fact that it would be precarious to do so, she didn't want to die. And she knew that she would get left behind if she so much as stopped for one moment.

The heat was fading with the light, becoming quite cold, and Athela now wished that she'd stayed back with the Geonosians. At least they would notice her struggling.

Surely he can't be that ignorant...

But she was too tired to say anything.

Grievous pressed on, determined.

Dusk had almost passed, with the miniscule fragment of the sun to his back. He had gone over the numerous possibilities on how he could make this go by quicker, and eventually gave up, knowing that all of them had their likely cons. And to top it off, he had a mortal on his tail! He couldn't afford that, clearly, and began to hope that she would just give up; go off on her own; rid him of her incompetence.

One less life to worry about taking...

Why did he continue to deceive himself? He wouldn't harm someone he knew could tell him the unknown. But what if the unknown was meant to stay unknown? Then that would really confound him...

His mortal brain was telling his robotic body that he needed to stop, but he paid it no heed.

He didn't care.

He no longer was a slave to mortality, and so his mind.

When he happened to take a quick look back at Athela, he saw only a disorientated creature. She had her head lowered, and was shaking uncontrollably. As he continued to watch with great fascination, to his amazement, she stumbled, and fell. And she didn't get back up...

Gasp...!