Jax-Mon needn't know where exactly the psionic gateway was – nature signposted it's location clearly.

When the Elders came with their technology and the horrible machinations of biological-mechanical infusions; they not only gated the people of Earth into a way of living dependant on them and their advancements, but also terraformed the world into a psionically-irradiated hellscape of mutated ecosystems and spreading blight.

Not only had the Chryssalids single-handedly made short work of every natural species on Earth sans for those that bred faster than they could hunt – but the psionic fallout from the Elders' experiments and wanton use in their systems latched into the flora. What was once sprawling meadows or rolling green hills were now corrupting rot, bent on decay. The consumption of which had also been the fatal mistake of many, now-extinct species.

Naturally, such things were expected by-products and the Elders never forecast their stay on Earth to be permanent. They would strip mine the planet for every useable material – genetic or otherwise – complete their goal and abandon it for the next. It had been the fate of several planets before it and the human's quaint little home was no exception.

The Assassin knelt down where the blight intersected with the light, yellowy-green grass. Her gloved hand gently pressed down at the patch. The decomposed plant matter scattered like ash in the wind; lacking any nutrients to nurture the soil. What few alien flowers that sprung and thrived in such conditions were content to stretch outwards to the natural patch of grass; unseen roots slowly sapping away, slowly spreading. Content to feast.

A pang of sympathy rung throughout her chest, though she found the feeling hollow and aimless. For whom did she pity? The grass – the ground? Even without the presence of the Elders ever setting foot on the planet, everything decayed in the end. But, perhaps, her pensive sorrow was for the humans. Feelings she was never supposed to have empathized the helplessness they must feel; observing the world die by means they had no way to control, or even understand.

The latent psionic energy laced within the Earth itself and the presence of the gateway miles ahead set a palpable stone in her stomach. If she closed her eyes, she could feasibly envision her former masters looming above. It did not make for companionable thoughts. Gathering her own energy, she cast it around herself in a concealing shroud; letting her hand rest familiarly on the hilt of her katana as she ventured forth.

Her steps were ethereally light, meaning not even the underside of her boot brushed and disturbed the dead matter underfoot. More importantly, to her senses, beneath the ground, she heard the heartbeat of thousands. The sickly scratching of burrowing claws rending earth and dirt to dig a burrow. Chryssalids teemed the area; naturally resistant to the psionic radiation that hung in the air. Whilst they were prone to burrow around sustainable sources of food; many flocked to the gateway from the network of underground tunnels as it provided solitary sanctuary.

The oppressive energy clung to her shroud like tar, making the otherwise imperceptible, silken feeling now weighty and heavy around her shoulders and chest. She would have to rely on rudimentary means of concealment if she wanted to navigate the treacherous land unhindered.

Reluctantly, Jax-Mon allowed her shroud to dissipate, and she gravitated towards the outcrops surrounding the area. Her purple skin and blackish-armour gave her an excellent camouflage within the environment, but even a psionic creature such as herself found the continued exposure to the land.. unsavoury.

By the time she reached the crag further up ahead; soft, ancient chatter forced her to press herself hidden against the shadow of the rocks; the targets residing above.

Jax-Mon needn't look to know who it was that spoke. It seemed the Archon King and what was left of his flock had retreated to one place they assumed was safe from the eyes and ears of XCOM and ADVENT alike. Among the chatter; she heard the faint hiss of flame licking metal. She could only assume, without risking revealing herself, they were recuperating from their battle before moving ahead.

She was inclined to leave them to their business and focus on her mission, however she recalled the conversation held with the King. How she had advocated for her former masters – and if not them, then a stance of non-partisan. Grimacing, she knew her word would mean even less in the eyes of him and his court if she returned to speak with him as a disgraced saint. A mortal.

But.. she had made a mistake with him. Potentially offered him ideas that were not in his best interest. If he took defeat at XCOM's hands as a sign to join ADVENT out of futility, then she would have played a hand in that and Jax-Mon refused to allow her mistakes to fester. She would be granted audience with him, title or not.

Eerily silent, Jax-Mon lifted herself to the incline, peeking over to spy on the targets. The Archon King's back was facing her, with one of his royal guards directly behind him, tending to the injury he sustained on his shoulder and side. There was another of the guards who had the most chance of spotting her, but his focus was solely on his liege; speaking gently to whatever the King had posited earlier.

Exhaling a breath of tension, the Assassin hauled herself up; preparing herself mentally to defend at any costs and spoke plain and clearly; "– Archon King."

Her voice broke to an immediate flurry of activity. The King whipped around, abandoned gold staff on the floor retrieved and brandished in an instant. The other two guards sprung into action; the feather-like jets on their ornate, gilded wing set risen like hackles and the flames burning a frenzied red. A burst of fuel propelled the King forward; stave flourished and jabbed forward; intending to pierce straight into her gut.

Her katana sliced through the air and met his staff in a harmonious clash of singing metal. Jax-Mon dug her heels into the ground, pushed almost perilously to the edge at the force of the King's momentum. His visage twisted into a fierce snarl and she met it with a determinable cool that could flash freeze the very stars.

"How dare you address me! Come here to gloat, have you, Elders' Saint?" Her gaze flashed a raw fury – and using her thumb, she popped open the hilt of her katana, letting her small dagger fall into her awaiting hand. The King noticed; adjusting his grip on his stave too late. Her swing was backed with vitriol and anger; lodging her dagger and it's longer sister into the space around the staff and disarming him shortly.

Discarding his weapon off the side of the cliff; his royal guards mobilized into action – only forced to pause as Jax-Mon pressed the tip of her katana into the Archon King's neck. Their liege's snarl dropped to a snarl; claws twitching in anticipation. She had bested him in such short work; helped because of his already weakened state. Metal was easily repairable, but his internal organs hadn't taken the shock of Feng's Ionic Storm well.

"I am beholden to the Elders no longer." she sternly told. It was impossible to discern the Archon's body language; but she noticed the jets flutter lightly, as well as the distinct impression of a gaze pinning her with a flat look. Jax-Mon held her head up high. "I … saw through their lies. I found and embraced the truth. Not only what they had done to me, but countless others under them – your kind included."

"The sentiment is too little, too late, Wraithmaiden." the King spat. "What of the thousands slain by your blade for your masters, hm? How will you tell them that now you no longer shroud yourself in wilful ignorance? Do you expect us to see you as kin?"

Although she expected resistance, her grip on her katana tightened and her eyes narrowed into thin slits, until eventually, her sword drops from his throat. He wasn't sure how to take the action, but at the very least, he waved off his wary guards. If Jax-Mon intended to kill him, she had ample opportunity and now forsaken it.

"No. Nor do I expect anyone's forgiveness. I care not of how the world perceives of me. As I have found, I vehemently loathe what they do." The sainthood would always leave a sour taste in her mouth. Coppery and tart. Her eyes briefly closed, before they opened to regard the King. "– But it is foolish to cast aside or even turn against one another in times such as these. There may be little point of asking for an alliance with you.. but I propose; instead, a ceasefire. A momentary peace to focus on the true threat."

The King paused and for a solid minute, she thought he was truly considering her proposal. But it was dashed the moment he scoffed. "Naivete does not become you, Wraithmaiden. Do you truly think we can – what? Cast aside our differences? Your masters –"

"Why must I burden the guilt of masters I no longer answer to?" she interjects harshly; scowl displaying both rows of sharpened teeth. "I agree, what they have done to your kind is nothing less than a tragic atrocity. Do you fault your indoctrinated brethren for killing in the Elders name, too? For playing their part as heraldic icons of their glory?"

Jax-Mon further seized her point as the King's silence allowed her; though her tone softened considerably. She was not intending to inspire him to sympathize with her, rather to see the truth of her nature and her words. " – I was created to serve and obey, without question or regret. When I confronted them with both; they deemed me nothing more than unfit reject. I was never given a choice. I want to be able to offer you, at the very least, a choice, Archon King."

The prevailing silence encompassed them a little longer. The King's head was tilted away, his gaze following suit as he deliberated over Jax-Mon's words. Respectfully, she gave him the time to do so. She watched the feathers aligning the wing piece on his back droop; the red-hot fire simmering out to it's normal, warm glow of orange hues. At the very least, he was calmed, but she did not expect his co-operation.

"Why are you here, Wraithmaiden?" he finally questions, head tilting back up, floating just that little bit higher as he'd descended slightly from his raging assault. Jax-Mon regarded this a minor success and ultimately progress. Perhaps she may not make amends, but she was laying the foundation for the diplomacy she once intended – now used for better things than service in the name of the Elders.

"That is a question I have wondered myself in regards to you and your kind, your majesty. This is not a place one accidentally escapes to, even in the heat of battle." she murmurs. His lips purse – and she was quick to answer truthfully. "I seek the psi-gate at the end of this blight's trail. XCOM has plans of taking this area, but they are ill-equipped to deal with the psionic horrors that await them. I will cleanse this place the only way I know how to and leave it for the their taking."

"Hm. I had taken my flock here to use the gateway for ourselves. I found myself reflecting back on your initial advice before I engaged in combat with them – and thus, I will take what is left of my kingdom back to my home world." The lack of confidence in his voice with that plan was easily detectable and something Jax-Mon capitalized on.

" – You lack the psionics to even power the psi-gate." she tells. "I do not wish to be the courier of deathly news; but your planet, as many others touched by the Elders, have been rendered into nothing more than a strip mining operation to fuel their resource machine. There is no planet to worth returning to."

The King was aware of this, but faced with the information so bluntly; he shook his head in denial.

"What other choice do we have? We have no jurisdiction here, on Earth. We were never meant to be here." His voice was noticeably more quiet; bordering a reluctant sorrow. "The most we can do is return and see the damage for ourselves. Remove the Elders influence from our world and work towards restoration."

"A hopeful goal, but a foolish one." There was an undercurrent of derision in her tone, born mostly out of an impatience beginning to settle. "You are better off establishing a regency here."

" – And I still do not take your opinion as though you are my vizier!"

Sensing their conversation spiraling towards a dead-end, Jax-Mon reigned it back in; inclining her head gently and softening her tone. "If you must return to your home, then it is a goal better left pursued after the Elders have been dealt with. Seek XCOM's Commander at the end of this war. I am sure she would be more than willing to allow any aliens to return from whence they came."

Jax-Mon straightened and finally sheathed her katana, turning her attention to the vastness of blight spread out before them. Her scowl eased into a thin, neutral line. It would be several miles yet until she reached the gate – and the aura of psi-energy was only going to get thicker and more oppressive as she went on.

As she was about to descend, a call from the Archon King had her pause; back turned to him.

" – Heracles." he said simply. "For all that I have said against you, Wraithmaiden, you've held yourself into an admirable standard. Your attempts at negotiation has not gone unnoticed to me or my kind. Thus, it is only fitting you know my name. At least, the one you can pronounce in your language."

Jax-Mon angled her head to look over her shoulder. Her mask – a perfected void of emotion – shattered a little to show her face softening just enough.

"Thank you, King Heracles." She pauses; lingers perhaps a touch more than necessary with the question on the tip of her tongue. Exhaling gently, she voices it. "Though you may not take my advise, my destination is to the gate. You may see for yourself what it is – and what it requires, for preparation of when you wish to return home. You needn't simply take my word for it."

"On this occasion," he demurred. "That is one suggestion I find palatable."


As the King, his guards and the Assassin advanced further into the psionic wasteland; the afflicted forests surrounding them seemed to change. Gone was the dead bark and crippled branches that overhung the pathway, shadowing the stretch of blighted rot ahead; replaced with the illumination of psionic light brightening the hollowed husk.

To Jax-Mon's senses, the psionic overcast like thick smog. She believed herself to be resistant against it; but now she contemplated if perhaps she should have brought her mask. It may have been rendered useless from her pursuit of the Viper King and his unnecessary death; but broken things could be fixed and a slight modification to help her breath easily with the excess psi-energy.

She settled for drawing in her own psionic signature around herself; tightening like a mesh to form a thick, imperceptible shield around herself. It helped enough that it eased the tension in her muscles and it did not take much focus to support the minor psionic ability. Her gaze slid to the side to observe the King, though either or not he seemed effected by the atmosphere, he persevered, nonetheless.

But, what she did notice was how obnoxiously loud the ventilation of his engines whirred. To her God-gifted senses, she heard every hiss of the heat's circulation; every gentle mechanism's hum or click as the internal support structure kept his organs pumping. Not to mention as well; the ever-burning fire scorched the very top of the ruined ground. It did not sear or set the alien fauna alight in a blaze; but merely blackened it and disturbed the soil beneath.

The faint, distant, underground chattering of clacking mandibles grew a touch louder. The squealing whine of hundreds of huddled, burrowed aliens clawing and scratching against one another to barrel through the burrows and address the site of the disturbance. Before, Jax-Mon's soundless arrival and maneuver appeased their sensitive hearing.

The Archons, however..

Her hand slowly, ever so slowly reached for her katana, her other arm casting out and halting her entourage. She felt Heracles' gaze and that of his flock burn questioningly into her, her psionic sense stretched deep below them to track the rising, impending threat. Every breath; heard. Every whistle of the wind. Every stab of pincers sifting through the dirt…

The purpleback Chryssalid burst right underneath her feet – the Assassin leaping from the spot just in time to avoid it's irradiated, sickly spines stabbing upwards into the air. She twisted herself, spinning with her katana to deflect it's barbarous spines as it shot out like poisonous quills. The Archons similarly deflected it; though Heracles knew it could not pierce through the alloy of his chassis. It bound harmlessly off him, and he surged forth with his staff.

As he presented himself as the more imminent threat; the Chryssalid scrambled out of it's burrow and let loose an ear-bleeding screech; loud enough that Jax-Mon fumbled her landing, crashing to the blighted ground and clutching her head in agony; her psionic sense ringing and echoing that banshee wail deep into her eardrums.

Heracles made a clean cut with the jagged prong of the staff; cutting the fleshy thorax of the Chryssalid; nose wrinkling as it bled a sickly amalgamation of pink and green. Globules of it's blood splattered below; proving that it was just as acidic as it's brethren. He was sure to make swift work of it; putting the creature out of it's misery with a decisive blow.

Whilst that Chryssalid had fell; it had awoken the hive. Beneath the surface; Jax-Mon could hear the riled gathering below angrily buzz like a disturbed hornet's nest. The multitudes of whines and terrible, deafening screeches was enough for her to pull back her psionics and force it to instead cancel out the noise.

"The Chryssalids have been alerted to our presence now. This area may as well have been littered with thousands of biological landmines!" she hissed urgently. "Unless we plan to mow through them, we must stick to the high ground and wait for their ire to settle."

Heracles opened his mouth to respond; wincing slightly as he watched Jax-Mon tightly plug her hands against her ears, grip on her katana loose and eyes screwed shut when another vicious howl mounted the tension. He was no expert on Chryssalids, but the deep tenor of that particular baying indicated they may have stumbled upon a denmother. Though they primarily focused on breeding; they were no less vicious than their spawn.

With a short command in his native tongue to his guards; Heracles holstered the staff safely against his wings and tucked his arms under Jax-Mon's own. She was in no position to try and navigate the aforementioned minefield; so he simply lifted her towards the crags and enveloping trees. She did not protest to this – and he found that she was as light, if not lighter than a feather.

Gently, he lowered the Assassin onto the risen hill, careful to angle his jets away as he pulled back. She had all but collapsed to her knees, nursing and cradling her head in her hands; riding out the waves of white noise that insidiously droned in her ears. She could hear the King speak; but it was drowned under the high-pitched frequency. She watched his mouth move; and a surprisingly concerned hand extended to rest on her shoulder.

" – Wraithmaiden?" The tide stemmed; and slowly, Jax-Mon's senses eased out. Her hands slowly drop to her side, though not before wiping the wetness that gathered in the corner of her eyes out of the sheer stress. She lacked her usual grace when she rose; but steadily; she regained her composure.

"I will be fine." she answered. "It was unlucky that the Chryssalid decided to howl whilst my psionic sense was active. Let.. let us proceed from here. You will have no issues navigating through the foliage of the trees, yes?"

A mistake, in any other words. Something about witnessing the Assassin making one humbled Heracles; though respectfully, he brought no special attention to it.

"The thicket is brittle enough that we should be able to pass right through it. The strange psionic poisoning in the trees makes it oddly resistant to fire – so there is no risk of one breaking out because of our wings." Heracles affirmed.

Katana sheathed, Jax-Mon strode forward; resuming to lead the King and his guards onward towards the psionic gateway. It was closer than she initially believed, if they had heard the distant call of a Chryssalid denmother, though there were still a good miles yet of their journey. From the top of the hill, she easily propelled herself forward to land on the branch of the trees.

Her weightlessness meant that only the wind that carried her jump rustled the psi-infused brittle bark and that was not enough to break it from under her. With each leap, she began clearing a good chunk of distance – and the raised hackles of the Chryssalid's angry chittering below began to dissipate.

Soon enough, there were no further trees for her to leap to. She let herself fall to the floor; landing perfectly on the soles of her feet; knees bent and hand splayed just to retain her balance as it touched the ground. The threat had subsided; though she gestured Heracles and the Archons above to remain as they were. She would not entice a frenzy.

They remained in sight only to her far peripheral vision, her gaze solely dedicated in front of her. She resumed her psionic shielding the further they advanced forth; making sure her own, sensitive senses were covered as not to risk a repeat of that mistake. Had the alien life overtaking Earth's natural one not implicated such devastation and destruction of ecosystems – the sight could have been beautiful.

Her musings did not last for long as even through her shielded senses she heard the crunch and stomp of heavy footfall. It took her a moment to identify the gait as a Berserker – though not a particularly healthy one. There was no other explanation why it's gait was so uneven, supplemented with two steps being four steps as it's hands helped it to walk. How strange –

As Jax-Mon was far too focused on actually listening to the creature, she blinked in mild surprise as what she was expected turned out to be something that skimmed just under her nose. She had been correct in that it was a Berserker, but it certainly wasn't an adult. She slipped into an easy squat, peering at the runt that had galloped up to her. She was a curiosity; and the baby seemed to investigate her.

How odd. An infant Berserker? What was it doing here, of all places? The sight of such a creature, in a place so bizarre, struck her absurdly enough that she did not even consider the obvious possibility. She lacked her older's skill of prediction, and it showed in spades in this very second.

The moment Jax-Mon dared to pick up the infant and place it safely off the infested pathway; she had sealed her fate.

Outside of Jax-Mon's field of vision, the Berserker Queen rounded the corner of the raised hill, one meaty fist clutching the rock in support as she inspected over it, trying to find the runt that wandered off. Unlike the Viper King and Heracles; she had long since ripped off the 'gifts' bestowed upon them by their mutually hated creator. The tubes, now empty, still dangled on her back as she was unable to fully rend the rigged system that felt surgically implanted into her.

She was stockier than the common, genetically made Berserkers, with green hues at the top of her back before her natural, muscle-like calluses bled into rustic browns. As fitting for her title, she reigned supreme above the others of her kind, secured by her burly strength and surprising intellect that went past simply smashing stuff. Survival was important and she was equipped with the instincts to make her tribe flourish.

The Queen had, at the very least, managed to stop the production of the adrenaline-inducing chemicals that cycled indefinitely into her. It had made her into an unstoppable killing machine at the cost of free-thinking. Had it not been for her initial escape of Vahlen's lab damaging the armour enough for her to miss a cycle, she may not have been able to save herself from her grisly fate.

As like the Viper King, she had returned to the remnants of her tribe, gathering her battle-sisters and consorts alike to restore what she was able to. The Mutons provided asylum into her tribe informed her of the psi-gate, and thus, the Berserker Queen believed she may be able to find sanctuary in the area deemed fit for only the Chryssalids.

She spotted Jax-Mon lift her child and in those few seconds, all sensibility and control was lost. Uprooting the rock from it's position, a ferocious howl tore from her throat as she threw it towards her. The Assassin had little time to counter and grunted; skating a few inches back as the shock absorbed from the impact radiated through her body. These brief, precious seconds was all the Queen needed to close the distance in one heroic leap; grabbing Jax-Mon in a crushing grip.

Her paw was big enough to have her arms squeezed to her sides and breathing made beyond restrictive. Her Elder-forged armour was the only saving grace of not having all of her bones ground into fine powder, though she is not so sure it will remain intact after the Queen's grievous assault. Desperately trying to find some wiggle room in her grip; her kicks were ineffectual as she was lifted just a few inches above the ground.

The Beserker Queen's fist sailed through the air and connected with a meaty crunch against Jax-Mon's jaw. But before she could be sent flying from such a blow; she shot forward and grabbed the Assassin's leg, making her hit the floor in an unceremonious heap; a trail of orange, meld-infused blood beginning to form. Jax-Mon wheezed a choking gasp; trying to form the words to calm the Queen, to no avail.

Wasting no time, the Queen, making sure to keep ahold of the Assassin's leg, threw her over her head, hitting the ground beside her. She followed that up with slamming her into the rocky cliff-face. The jagged rocks that cut into her face and left scrapes and cuts that were nothing to the utter ache and screaming pain of her bones and muscles. A patch of blood left stained on the rocks as the Queen brought her back in to be cracked over her knee.

" – Rhea!" Heracles, evidently, had finally returned to see why the Assassin had stalled – and was aghast to find her speedily heading to her death as the Berserker Queen beat her down. He flew in fast and low, hand raised forth in a placating gesture. "Stop, you will kill her!"

Having lost momentum, Jax-Mon's spine was safe as she merely was draped over her knee, her psionics slowly peeking out to begin steadily regenerating her severe injuries. Unfortunately, the brief respite was simply that. Brief. The Queen growled something furiously at Heracles; her paw moving from Jax-Mon's leg to her back as she was lifted and tossed with abandon to the pathway, discarded like trash.

She looked like she might have been preparing to rush over and stomp on her had it not been for Heracles moving in front of her and interrupting her once more. " – Yes, I understand what she had done to the Viper King, but you have to listen to me, Rhea – "

With the threat of death looming over her, Jax-Mon's breathing shallowed. Everything was radiating pain in some form or manner and she was aware that this life was her last. If Heracles did not convince Rhea to stand down, that was it. Her existence, made nothing.

Between only partially keeping track of their one-sided conversation and her focus shifting to the rapid beating of her heart; her vision blurred a little bit. She didn't know if she had been concussed by Rhea's attack, but everything felt as if it was spinning. The world was moving around her and she was remaining exactly where she was. For the first time, Jax-Mon felt nauseated.

Yet, even despite this, she could hear the click-clack of hungering, salivating mandibles. She thought of dismissing the noise as there were a horde of Chryssalids right beneath them, but the whimpering whine of underdeveloped vocal chords snapped her focus into perfect clarity.

Her vision regained long enough to confirm that a Chryssalid, attracted by the noise of the Queen, had poked out of it's burrow. It wouldn't dare assault someone clearly too strong for it to kill, so it's hunt was turned to a lesser creature. Namely, the Queen's runt.

With great pain; Jax-Mon's hand shakily withdrew her katana and used the little strength she had left to lunge forward, cleanly stabbing the reared Chryssalid into the back. It shrieked; it's pincers swiping the air harmlessly rather than piercing into the infant. With both hands gripping the handle, she swung the Chryssalid away from the child, twisted her blade, and sliced it in half. The corrosive blood poured into the floor rather than on her or the kid.

Jax-Mon openly cringed when a dark shadow loomed over her. Weakly, she thrust her blade into the ground, using it as a point of grip for her to drag herself up to her knees, turning so that she may face her death with dignity.

No such fatality was to befall her. The Queen – Rhea, as Heracles called her – had seen her actions. She huffed and panted, clearly having never been interrupted in a frenzied assault before, but she was willing to make the exception, especially when the runt waddled back to her, oblivious, and climbed to hang safely on her back.

Rhea's hands moved, large fingers scuffing the ground as guttural; yet different growls reverberated in her throat. Hopeless to understand her, Jax-Mon's eyes drifted to Heracles, whom looked vaguely worried for her state of health.

"– Rhea thanks you for saving her young, but she believes her judgement to be true." he translated, paraphrasing. "You killed Takshaka, the Viper King. What reason could you possibly give her to not return the same unto you? He acted as we, the Rulers have – in our natural instinct. Would you slay us all for our nature?"

"I d-deeply," Jax-Mon paused to hack a cough, splattering blood into her gloved hand. She gingerly wiped it clean on her thigh, devoting some of her focus to her psionics to heal her faster. " – Apologize for my actions that day. The death of the Viper King could have been prevented, but I felt as though I had no choice to gain my brother's approval. If it was not by my hands, respectfully, I can assure you he would have taken the task eventually. I do not wish to fight any longer."

The Assassin flinched as Rhea lurched forward; her growl sounding much, much more angrier.

Heracles stalled for a moment, before decidedly omitting some of the more colourful word choices as he relayed the message. "Is that your excuse? That his death was an inevitability and at least he would have dignity?"

"I m-make no excuses for what I've done, merely explain myself. It was senseless butchery, and I gladly accept any atonement you wish to bestow upon me." The Assassin slumped against the cliff-face, letting it support her. "The only plead that I make is that any punishment comes after this war. We cannot afford to turn against each other. Perhaps you have no wish to make amends, but consider this, Queen Rhea."

Jax-Mon felt relief sweep over her when it seemed the Berserker was listening to her, and letting her continue. " – If I truly have any ill intentions against you, then why would I have saved your child? I promise, for what that is worth, I do not wish to slay you or your kind."

Rhea considered her words for a moment; canine-like head turning towards Heracles and a soft rumble emitting from deep within her chest. He responded softly, though to the Assassin's ears, she could pick up the quiet whispers; " – Yes, I believe her. I would not exactly call this an alliance, but we all have an unsurprising common enemy. … We are heading towards the psi-gate. Do you …?"

After a long moment of their hushed conversation, Heracles spoke up and addressed Jax-Mon. "As you are in no state to continue alone, Rhea will join us. If anything, she believes it will repay the debt she owes you for saving her child. She tells me she is watching you, Wraithmaiden, but she can comprehend honesty when it is given."

Jax-Mon tensed up when the Berserker Queen tucked a hand underneath her and lifted her; only to relax cautiously when she was laid gently upon the Queen's back. She sheathed her katana, and found an easy grip in between the plates of her natural body armour. By the time they arrived at the gate, she figured her psionics would have patched her up by then, but she appreciated the sentiment.

"Then let us continue." the Assassin murmured softly. Exhausted; but alive.