I'll just say it here, this chapter is easily the most gruesome thing I've ever written, but it is also the most gruesome this story will likely be. I don't foresee anything else in this story reaching this level.

Chapter 9: The Necromancer Revived

Leselle's head was heavy. She was still dizzy from whatever they had drugged her with. Her eyes stung as torches flared to life around her. The people in the white masks were there. They were lighting more torches, placing them in evenly spaced brackets on the walls. There were four large fires in braziers set in a square around a lowered area in the floor in the center of the room.

She could hear something nearby. It sounded like crying, very close by. It made her head swim to turn, but she looked over her shoulder and felt her breath catch in her throat. There were women sitting very close by. The youngest looked even younger than Leselle, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and the oldest she could see looked to be in her forties. And there were many more beyond these, to far for her to see details of their faces.

What they all had in common was the visible bulge in their stomachs. They were each pregnant. Some looked as little as two or three months, and the older woman near Leselle looked almost eight months. Leselle looked down at her own stomach, and the round three-month bulge there. She couldn't even think of what they'd want with so many pregnant women, but already she felt a chill running down her spine, knowing it could be nothing good.

Nearby, there was the sound of steel sliding from a sheath, and she looked up to see a polished metal blade glinting in the torchlight as one of the masked men placed it on a table next to the wall.

"The last light has been lit," one of the masked men said to another, "It will soon be dawn."

"Perfect," another masked figure said, this one with a woman's voice, "I'll inform Vaati that we're ready to begin."

It was dawn in Hyrule. The queen woke when her lady-in-waiting knocked at her door. She had a great deal to do today in spite of the situation, and rose from her bed. Everything seemed normal as she splashed cold water on her face to wake herself up, and her lady helped her dress for the day, in a more formal gown than the day before.

As she slipped her arms into the sleeves and her lady laced up the back, the queen stopped, looking out the window to the first rays of the sun appearing over the mountains to the east.

"Is something wrong, your majesty?" the lady asked.

"I don't know..." the queen said, "I just had a really bad feeling all of a sudden. Something terrible is about to happen..."

Down in the courtyard, Ana was still at the training field, having nearly knocked all the straw from the dummy she had been viciously attacking with the blunted training sword. Now she stopped, panting for breath and wiped the sweat from her eyes. She had been working so hard, and sweat drenched her body, but she felt icy cold. It was something else she was feeling.

"What is that?" she whispered, the icy cold causing an awful knot in her stomach.

Far to the east, at the same time, so far east that it was nearing midnight, Link sat awake by the edge of the camp the group had made for the night, his turn on watch. There was a tingling in his spine, his instincts warning him, but he knew the camp was safe still.

Soft footsteps made him turn, and he saw Lance awake and walking toward him.

"It's not your turn yet, son," Link said softly.

"I can't sleep," Lance said, coming to a stop beside where his father sat, "I just have this strange feeling. Like an icy chill all over but I don't know why."

Link looked over to where Kilishandra sat nearby. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground with her eyes closed. A few minutes ago, she had said she felt something, and needed to focus to try to locate it. As he looked at her through the darkness, he could make out her face thanks to his dark vision. He saw her eyes clench tighter and she grimaced, then she twitched, her entire head shaking just once. A bead of sweat ran down one side of her face.

"Kili?" Link asked, "Are you okay?"

Her eyes opened and she gasped for breath, as if she'd been holding it for some time. Then she turned to Link. "I sense something, but I'm not sure what," she said, "It's far away. Much further than I should be able to feel it. It might be all the way back in Hyrule."

"Any guesses?" Link asked.

"It's evil," Kilishandra said, "I've never felt something as dark as this. Not even Cain compared."

"I'm not sensitive to magic like you, but I feel something," Link said, "Apparently Lance does too."

"Yeah," Lance said, "It feels bad."

"I wonder how many people in the world are having bad feelings right now they can't explain," Kilishandra said, standing up and walking over to them.

Link glanced over at the sleeping forms of the rest of the group. They were stirring, shifting, not sleeping peacefully. Even they were having bad dreams, likely from this feeling.

"It can't be coincidence," he said, looking back at Kilishandra, "Walpurgis Night is only a few months away."

"I would understand this feeling on that night," she replied, "But not this early before it."

"You mean that day-long eclipse every few years?" Lance asked.

"Every few years, the lines between worlds become thin," Kilishandra said with a nod, "It's like the tides shifting, but on a cosmic scale. Typically only wizards and sorcerers such as myself concern ourselves with it. But that night is when the lines are at their thinnest. We typically see an increase in undead around the date as a result. Spirits and ghosts find it easier to maintain their form, and even weaker spirits can become visible and affect the world of the living. But it is that night that certain rules of magic can be bent or even broken."

"Problem is this early, anyone trying to do something that even I can feel, they're not benefiting from it," Link said, "Which means they're either fools..."

"Or they're preparing for something much bigger," Kilishandra finished.

"The princess," Link said, "Her abduction was a ruse. The entire point was to get us away from Hyrule."

"I think you're right," Kilishandra said.

"Then what is their actual goal?" Lance asked.

"Something that they'd want Hyrule's most powerful spell caster out of the way for," Link said.

"Not to mention the only man who could rally the people possibly even more effectively than the queen," Kilishandra added.

"Point is whether they actually know who we are or believe the exaggerated stories, like the one about my fight with Ganondorf adding extra miles to the great ravine," Link went on, "but either way, they're afraid of us."

"I think it's time we call Sheila," Kilishandra said.

"Who's Sheila?" Lance asked.

"The Sage of Light," Link said, "Old friend of ours. But as a Sage, she can't interfere in the battles of men. She can't help us unless this is something truly a threat to the world at large. And even then, we don't have means to contact her directly out here. Which unfortunately means we have to wait this out for now."

"I see," Lance said, his momentarily raised hopes knocked back down, thinking again about the feeling running down his spine.

Innocent people were going to die this night.

Leselle's heart raced as more of the masked figures entered the chamber. There were so many, their shadows casting ominously on the walls as they circled the room. In a matter of moments, the masks were all around them, the figures wearing loose white robes concealing their figures.

The only one that stood out from the others was the size of a child, less than four feet in height, and yet, the way he moved to the center of the room, near the lowered area in the floor. Now that her vision was clearing, Leselle could see it was shaped like a bowl, and there was a strange liquid in it. Green in color, but there were small things floating in it, and she thought she might be glad she didn't know what they were.

The smaller figure spoke, and his voice was not that of a child, but nor would she call it a man either. In fact, his voice had a strange tone to it which made her question if it was even human, but she couldn't describe exactly what it was.

"My brothers and sisters, I am so proud of all of you," the small figure said, raising his arms to his sides as he slowly turned around the room, "In the past months, you have had to give up much of your former lives. Your families, your homes, your wealth, but you have taken the final step to prove your faith. And now, this dawn, I share with you my commitment."

Leselle couldn't take her eyes from him, and with shock realized the blue color of his hands were not gloves, but his actual skin.

"This ritual we perform this dawn will bring another into our midst," the figure went on, "This messiah will guide us as the holy night approaches, and show us the path to true salvation. By his hands, our Lord will enter this world to reward we faithful, and devour the wicked."

He continued, but among the masked figures, Six's mind wandered. She didn't know how Vaati kept it up, the whole preacher thing. But he'd somehow managed to turn these people into what were basically slaves. He'd told her of it once. The common people, they didn't want to think for themselves. Those that do would climb the ladders of business, military, art, or other means to raise their status, and then they'd no longer be among the commoners. People with real ambition did not stay common for long. They were dangerous to attempt to influence, because for most, their first and only loyalty was to themselves, and they would carefully weigh everything presented to them for the sake of themselves.

There were also among the commoners the ones that were perfectly satisfied with their lives as farmers and workers. All they wanted was a peaceful life to do their jobs, raise their children, and this was enough for them. These people wanted to be led, but they had their loyalties. These were the men and women that rallied to the call of their nation and queen when threatened. They wanted to be led, not to lead themselves, but when their lives were disrupted, they would nearly always choose the familiar over the new. Attempting to influence them was a fool's errand, even more so than the previous group.

The third type of commoners were the ones Vaati could easily influence and gain the loyalty of. They were the bitter ones. The hateful. The lazy. The ones who looked at those wealthier and stronger than themselves and despised it. The ones who saw the hardworking self-made rich as thieves and the born wealthy nobles as undeserving spoiled brats. These were the people who made no effort to improve their lives, and sought only a reason to blame others for their misfortunes. Like the second type, they wanted to be led, and would gladly march against those they already despised. Whether by wealth or religion, the mere promise of dragging their betters down to their level was usually enough to inspire them to action, like a swarm of ants bringing down a proud stag through their sheer overwhelming number.

There were always exceptions to these rules, Vaati had told Six, but most peasants one met would fall into one of these three categories. The second was by far the most numerous of the three, so in the early days they'd had to move carefully, seeking their recruits one at a time, but as their numbers slowly grew, they could bring in more and more. The young who were not yet set into their lives were especially vulnerable to conversion at this point. It didn't matter if they were actually poor or not, so long as they could be made to believe that the wealthy were the enemy of the common man, they could be turned.

Adding a religious flavor only helped the process. In fact, Vaati had told her that having an actual god to reference was not even necessary. Any dogma that people believed in to the point they'd ignore evidence presented by their foes was a religion in its own right.

He had done this before, Six had remarked at the time. In response, Vaati had chuckled, saying that he was very old at this point. It had taken many attempts at starting such a religion before he found success, and he had repeated the process several times, and at this point, he had it down to an art. Including recognizing those who would be immune to his efforts to convert them.

But the single greatest danger, and one they must always be on guard against, was what typically undid cult leaders and corrupt politicians both. That was when such people started to believe their own lies. When you are manipulating the common people to think they are working toward a goal, the last thing you wanted to do was start believing in that goal yourself.

So now she stood there patiently, just a few steps behind him, waiting for him to finish. The speech was for the others' sake, because they still needed them, at least for now. She kept her mouth shut.

"...and so with this dark act, we begin the final steps to bring light to this cruel world," Vaati said, lowering his hands, "We take this dark path so that others do have to. We honor the sacrifice of these women so that others not need take their place. Find your eternal paradise in heaven for this, and fear not for the end of your mortal lives."

This cause cries of fear and wails from the kidnapped women. One was not far along in her pregnancy managed to get to her feet even with her hands bound behind her back and ran for the front entrance of the room. In a flash, Six was on her, having crossed the entire room with a single leap, grabbing her by one wrist and dragging her back. The woman's struggles meant nothing to Six's far superior strength.

"I see we have the first volunteer," Vaati said as Six brought the woman to the edge of the bowl in the center of the room. Then he raised one hand, "Brothers and sisters, line the others up. You know what must be done."

There were more cries as the masked figures descended upon the women, pulling them to their feet. Some required two to hold them still as they struggled, while others were quiet, seeming that they had accepted their fate, or were so incredulous to what was happening that they had just stopped reacting.

One of the masked figures retrieved the blade from the table on the far wall, walking to the front of the line where the woman still struggled in Six's grip. She screamed, fighting harder as she saw the blade, light glinting from the metal as the figure held it up in front of her.

"Sister, we thank you for your sacrifice," Vaati said.

The next scream rang in the ears of all gathered as he plunged the knife into her pregnant belly, cutting a wide slash directly into her abdomen. Blood poured out, falling into the bowl and mixing with the strange green liquid there. To the horror of the other women, with his free hand, the figure reached into the still screaming woman's stomach as he pulled the cut open wider with the side of the blade. Her entrails were falling out as he fished about, searching for his intended prize, and reached in again with the blade to free it.

Then it was there in his hand. The blood-covered, undeveloped fetus from her womb. With one final slash of the blade, he cut the umbilical cord and tossed the fetus into the green liquid. Where it landed, the liquid began to bubble around it, and the fetus rapidly dissolved, turning the green liquid red.

The woman's struggles had ceased. She'd passed out, and blood loss would ensure she never woke again. Six pulled her unconscious form aside, dropping her to the stone floor out of the way. The next struggling and screaming woman was pulled to the side of the bowl. Vaati repeated his line, and the process itself was repeated.

It was a bloody, horrific affair, and took over an hour to work through all the kidnapped women, even though it took only minutes with each. Six returned to her place just behind Vaati, on the other side of the bowl, and watched through it all.

With each unborn child added to the bowl, they were rapidly dissolved by the strange liquid, which was rising and filling more of the bowl, and the bubbling did not cease.

Vaati had told Six some of what the liquid was. It was a combination of rather unusual ingredients. Something tied closer to what he called the Black Arts than true magic. Six knew little of what these Black Arts were, only that the truest practitioners of them were the witches, not sorcerers. And he'd also told her that without a necromancer's knowledge that had been gifted to Vaati for this very purpose, this ritual would do little more than make a disgusting melt of flesh and acid.

As she watched, some of the masked figures raised hands to their faces, lifting their masks just enough to hold their noses. Six was rather pleased at that moment to have no sense of smell. The bubbling of the liquid was growing more intense with each addition made to the bowl. The original green color of the liquid had vanished, being turned entirely red by the blood.

The liquid rose to nearly the rim of the bowl as the final pregnant woman was moved to the edge. She was not screaming, but her eyes showed her abject terror at what she had witnessed, and she knew was coming for her. But Vaati suddenly raised his hand. "Stop!" he said, halting the blade and causing the others to turn toward him.

"That is enough," he said, reaching into his robe for an inside pocket, "Now witness the power of God."

From his pocket, he brought a small gem, purple in color, with a visible white light within its facets. He tossed it into the bubbling liquid. What was bubbling instantly became a froth, shooting into the air, then falling again. This caused many oohs and awes among the masked figures gathered, all instinctively backing up to not be splashed.

The liquid settled into the bowl, the bubbling ceasing altogether, and then something else moved. Something just beneath the surface, then it rose and the liquid fell across it. It was a human skull, the size of an adult. Six didn't know what she was looking at. There had been no such bones in the liquid when it began.

The level of the liquid began to fall as the skull rose higher. It was startling to see, as the skull floated up over the surface, then from the liquid, a spine rose and with a loud crack connected to the back of the skull. Next to float up was the jaw, which snapped into place, then opened wide, as if screaming with no voice. More bones followed, as ribs attached to the spine and arms snapped into shoulders, the skeleton rising to stand on freshly made legs and feet. The liquid then rolled up, climbing over the bones like a sentient slime.

Six watched as it rose into the skull and changed color. She then realized the horrific stew was becoming flesh. Eyes appeared in the skull's sockets, and the slime rolled up over the skull and became the red color of muscle, then another layer rose over and changed into pale human skin.

The process was affecting the entire skeleton, as she saw the slime transform into internal organs. Heart and lungs formed before her eyes, and more, then were covered by the red layer of muscle, for skin to follow afterward. As slow as the sacrifices had been, this seemed incredibly fast in comparison, though it took over ten minutes to finish.

Then the bowl was empty, the red liquid completely vanished, and a man stood in its center. So completely had the red liquid become his body that he wasn't even wet. He had no body hair to speak of, even his head being completely bald, but perhaps there had been no material to spare, but Six could see his distinctive features in the light. His chin came to a sharp point, and he had a hook nose, and when he opened his eyes, they were narrow and sharp, and dark brown, nearly black.

He was thin, but did not appear starved. Six wondered if that was how he appeared before, or a result of the ritual and amount of material it had created.

Slowly, he took a breath, filling his lungs with his first, and held it for a moment before exhaling.

"The first breath I've taken over eight thousand years," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Those gathered around looked to Vaati, unsure how to react. Vaati did not take his eyes from the man, who now lifted up his left hand, looking down at it as he flexed his fingers. Then, rather suddenly, he brought his right hand up to his left wrist and dug his fingernail viciously into his own flesh. A second later, a red line of blood could be seen on his left forearm.

"I live. I truly live," he said, then raised his voice into a laugh that echoed in the room, throwing his head back and raising both arms into the air as he screamed, "Flesh and blood and bone! I am alive!"

He laughed again, maniacal but also elated. Finally, he lowered his arms, turning directly to Vaati. "You have fulfilled your end," he said, "I will keep mine."

"We have a room prepared for you," Vaati said, "There will be clothing and equipment there for you. Let me know if you require anything else."

"Food and drink," the man said, "There's nothing I want or need more right now."

"This is the necromancer?" Six asked as she walked behind Vaati.

"Yes," Vaati said, "A truly disgusting art, but effective. I am glad this is the last time I'll have to taint my hands with this vile work."

It was about half an hour later as they approached the chamber that had been set aside for their new addition. No guard had been left at the door, but it wasn't as if the cultists could have stopped him if he turned hostile. Vaati was certain he could handle him, but better if it didn't come to that.

He knocked at the door once, and a voice from within said to enter.

Six opened the door, allowing Vaati to enter first. The necromancer was seating at a small table, a plate in front of him with a collection of food, mainly fruits of different varieties, but also a loaf of bread and dried meat, and next to it a bottle of wine.

"Sorry, I expected you to be finished by now," Vaati said.

"Don't be, you just don't understand," the necromancer said, and took a bite from an apple, the crispy crunch audible to all. The necromancer closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, his head turning nearly completely sideways and trembling as he savored the flavor, and only then started chewing.

It was nearly a full minute of chewing that single bite before he swallowed it, then looked over to them.

"I haven't eaten in eight millennia," he said, "If I tried, it all tasted like ash. Real flavor, this is like heaven for me."

He had dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, and white bandages were wrapped around his left forearm where he had cut himself with his nail.

"To be frank, I didn't know if the ritual would actually work," Vaati said, pulling out the spare seat and sitting himself across the table from the necromancer.

"I didn't either before I died," the necromancer said, "But the afterlife is a wealth of knowledge for one such as I. Necromancy is the magic of death, and with my knowledge, I did not have to face my final judgment. I instead remained in Limbo, learning all I could. It was a theory that I know all too well is true: Necromancers never truly die. We just wait until we can step back across the line."

"Everything I've ever learned said that there is no magic that can resurrect the dead," Vaati said, "Interesting to know that's wrong."

"It's not wrong, as I have not been resurrected," the necromancer said, "I have been reincarnated. Rather than being returned to my original body, my soul now inhabits an entirely new one. In fact, I wasn't altogether certain it would work. But I believed strongly enough that it would, and I trusted you enough to let you capture my soul in that gem."

"So your soul was here the whole time..." Six whispered, but not quietly enough for him to not hear.

"Indeed," the necromancer said, "Vaati and I concocted this plan long before you came into existence, and we already crossed the hurdle of bringing my soul back from Limbo decades ago."

"At a great cost that many would not be willing to pay," Vaati said.

The necromancer smiled and took another bite of the apple, then said around it, "There's a reason most civilizations outlaw necromancy. But for those with looser morals, it is power like you've never dreamed. The women were all farmers, peasants, you said it yourself. In this," he paused, looking down at his own hand and clenching his fingers tight as though still testing that they worked, "they've and their children have contributed far more to this world's future than they would have otherwise."

"So what should I call you now?" Vaati asked, "Unless Necromancer is good enough?"

"I've used a few different names over the ages, but I think the one this world knows me best as will suffice," he replied, "Call me Tharkus."

"The name this world knows you as?" Six said, "Doesn't seem bright if you want to lay low."

"Quite the contrary," Tharkus said, "I don't want to lay low. There are people still alive who know me. And when I come for them, I want them to know its me as I look into their eyes and rip their still beating hearts from their chests."

"Well, the first thing you can do is take whatever leash you have in my head and get rid of it," Six said, pointing one finger to her own face.

Tharkus looked up at her, taking another bite of the apple, pointedly chewing for a moment before swallowing and speaking, "That will take time. I am still weak and need rest to build up my strength before I attempt anything."

She took a step toward him, about to shout when he added, "Unless you want to risk dying in the process."

Six growled, but Vaati looked to her. "Let it be for now," he said.

"In the meantime, you should continue the plan for Hyrule," Tharkus said, "I will deal with Link and Kilishandra, though I will need your assistance to get me there."

"Necromancy doesn't cover travel spells?" Six said in a sarcastic tone as she stepped back.

"No, shockingly it doesn't," Tharkus said, "I will also need to take stock and see how I can lure them to where I want them. They are formidable opponents and you have wasted the element of surprise."

"Yet if we were to put Six on the throne, as planned, they could be formidable allies," Vaati said.

"I doubt they would fall for it, especially since the real princess is still alive," Tharkus said, "If they haven't found her yet, they likely will soon."

"Speaking of that, why didn't you let me kill her?" Six asked.

"As soon as that man appeared, you had no chance of doing so," Tharkus said, "I don't know how he's alive… I could have sworn..."

He trailed off, not finishing the thought, and looking away as his mind wandered down that line of thought.

"Who is he?" Vaati asked.

Tharkus looked back to him. "Why, he's none other than Ganondorf, the King of Darkness himself. And as dangerous as Link and Kilishandra are, for him, combine them together and multiply it by a hundred."

"Then he has the Triforce of Power?" Vaati said, "Like in the legend?"

"No," Tharkus said, "I know he sacrificed that to kill Shaklator twenty years ago. I suppose his eternal youth must be permanent. I had actually thought that losing the Triforce would cause him to rapidly age and die. Or perhaps he only started aging again after giving it up.

"In any case," Tharkus went on, "We cannot move on him until we are absolutely sure he cannot win. Even if he is weaker without the Triforce, that man's deadliest weapon is his intellect. The entire time I've known him, he was always thinking much further ahead than anyone else. And not just one step ahead, but closer to ten. Nothing ever surprised that man and everything I tried against him last time failed utterly. I don't care what he's doing, but no one goes near him until I say."

"So long as you remember the deal," Vaati said.

"I told you I'd help you get the Triforce, and I shall do so," Tharkus said, "But I don't want to see my efforts wasted because your people can't follow orders."

"Let me worry about that," Vaati said, "So will we have to find passage to the Sacred Realm?"

"No," Tharkus said, "To all knowledge I posses, the Triforce did not reappear there when it vanished last. So the most likely answer is that all three pieces will re-manifest in persons it deems worthy, just as the pieces of Wisdom and Courage appeared in new generations over the centuries."

"All three of them?" Vaati asked.

"A likely candidate would be the son of Link and Kilishandra," Tharkus said, "But this will require research, and time to find all three."

"If one piece can grant eternal youth, then one is all I need," Vaati said.

"So be it," Tharkus said, "Then for the time, proceed as planned."

"Agreed," Vaati said, turning to climb out of his seat, "Will there be anything else you need before I retire for the night?"

Tharkus glanced over at the bed in the corner of the room. "Something else I haven't had for eight millennia," he said, looking back to Vaati, "Are there any women among those followers who would be willing to join me in bed?"

Vaati almost laughed. "They'll do anything I tell them to. Do you have a preference?"

Tharkus did laugh. "After this dry spell, the only thing I care about is that she be female."

"I'll send one here after you're finished eating, then," Vaati said, walking toward the door.

"No, don't wait for that," Tharkus said, "I can do two things at once."

Vaati returned to his chamber after giving the needed commands. "Close the door," he said to Six as she entered behind him.

He waited until he heard the latch. Then with a roar of anger, he turned, flipping the dining table over, dumping the books and waiting plate of food onto the floor. With a kick, he sent one of the chairs onto its back, then grabbed the other by its back-rest and threw it into the wall, where it fell to the floor with a crash.

"Necromancers..." he growled in an angry whisper, "Disgusting, vile creatures..."

He turned around, seeing Six with a confused expression, he remembered himself. He took a deep breath, standing up as tall as his small frame allowed and smoothed his hair back into place with one hand.

"Forgive me," he said, "I should not act that way in front of even you."

"He gives me the creeps too," Six said, "Was this deal you made really worth it?"

"I question that each time I have to perform one of his rituals," Vaati said, "First to open Limbo and capture his soul, then to bring you into existence, and now to bring him to life. I have lived for longer than he can comprehend and never dirtied my hands like this before.

"Slavery, if required, I can do. But willing servants are always more productive than slaves. But necromancy is vile in every sense. It's his knowledge of this world I require. If not for my limited time, I would have sought aid elsewhere, but I have so little left."

"Do we really need him?" Six asked.

"Don't worry," Vaati said, "I've already made up my mind. As soon as I have the Triforce, I'll send him right back to hell where he belongs. Then you will also receive everything I promised you."

"But in the meantime, I need to-" Six stopped, turning a the sound of a knock at the door.

Vaati quickly composed himself, straightening his robe and trying to brush his hair back into place again, then nodded and Six opened the door.

One of the masked cultists stood outside, and he bowed deeply before speaking. "Great speaker, forgive me for interrupting," he said.

"It's not an issue," Vaati said, "Has something happened?"

"It's just the matter of the girl you ordered spared, my lord," the man said.

"That's right, I did do that," Vaati whispered, then louder said, "Take me to her."

Leselle couldn't take her eyes from the bowl in the floor of the room. No trace of the horrific liquid remained in the bottom now. Her heart had finally slowed down, and she felt she had no more tears to shed. To be faced with such a nightmare only to be pulled away seconds from death was no experience for anyone, and this poor girl still trembled, her mind a blank, unable to even think to escape.

After the man who had risen from the gore had been taken away, as well as the small figure and the masked woman departed, the masked figures had begun dragging the mutilated corpses of the other women away. The trail of blood and small bits Leselle dared not identify was still visible, a thick red line in front of the far wall, all the way to one of the side passages.

They seemed to ignore her, until white robes appeared in front of her, blocking her view of the bowl and causing her to look up. It was the small figure and the masked woman who had leaped across the room in one bound.

"Reaction," the small figure said, "She's not completely broken, then. Can you hear me?"

"Why..." Leselle whispered.

"I'm afraid if I took the time to explain why we did this, it would be beyond your comprehension," he said, "But your life is in no danger now. In fact, I've got an idea now that requires you live."

"Why me?" she asked, suddenly desperate to know why she would live while so many others would not.

"Pure luck on your part," the small figure said, "We didn't need another sacrifice. But now you can be useful in another way."

As if to make sure there was no doubt, he knelt down and placed his hand on her round, pregnant belly, causing her to gasp, first at the unwanted touch, then when she was able to see through the eyes of his mask and saw the dim yellow glow beyond.

"No harm will come to you or your child," he said, "I promise you this."

"Then let me go," she said.

"That I cannot do," he said, "You could reveal us before we are ready, and decades of work will be lost."

Something deep in Leselle's heart found its strength again, and she grit her teeth, glaring at him. "My father's going to find you," she said, "And when he does, he's going to kill every last one of you."

"Really?" the masked figure asked with amusement as he slowly stood up, "And just who would your father be?"

Still far from them, in the imperial lands, a lone figure moved tirelessly through the countryside. Zero had found what he was looking for, and picked up the trail leading west. The masked figures had taken their prize and fled quickly for the border.

Little did they know what pursued them. Zero required no food, no rest, and would never stop.