Chapter 16
Never Smile At A Crocodile

Rain woke up groggy aware of two things: somehow he had managed to make it inside a cave in the Kuatan Jungle that he honestly had no recollection of. The second was the amount of pain he was in.

He adjusted his eyes as the sunlight beat down on him even inside the confines of the shallow, dark cave. Even on the position on his back, he could barely make out it was midday and by the severe discomfort in his stomach, he suspected he had been laying in the cave for some time. His hunger was the least of his worries.

Rain's vision was blurry and the blood that soaked in his mask felt glued on to his skin. Despite the bullet in his side, the stab wound in his shoulder, the multiple and various colored bruises he felt, his nose that was in agonizing pain, the biggest injury was the one done to his pride.

Kotal Kahn had won.

He had been so close to the throne and it had been snatched away from him yet again.

Another plan foiled and more failure. His physical injuries were pale in comparison to the intensity of rage he felt bubbling within him.

This is not over.

He would have his throne no matter how long it took him to accomplish it.

Recovering slowly, in the distance over the chatter of the jungle animals, he could make out the sound of flowing water nearby. The noise was faint and he had a suspicion it was just a delusion caused by the blinding waves of pain that rolled over his body frequently. Still, he braced his elbows against the jagged rocks of the cave and lifted himself up.

The Hydromancer let out pained grunts the more he rose to his feet; each groan more audible the more pain rushed over him. Using the rocks, he guided himself towards the exit of the cave and stumbled into the humid emerald forest.

He staggered like a drunk and hobbled like an old cripple through the jungle; barely managing to guide himself towards the sound of the rushing water.

His body began to sweat from a mixture of exertion and the sweltering jungle heat; the canopy of trees above doing little to provide shade. Rain felt disgusting enough already with the caked blood and sweat from the fight in the palace; now joining another layer of sweat to add to his already odious clothes. To look and feel so defeated was beneath him and he hated it. At least he knew the water would help with both grievances.

The water would not only wash him but also help heal him. He could hear that he was drawing closer to it with each weak and painful movement over the roots and foliage. His strength in his legs and arms were feeble and every effort was draining but still the promise of water nearby was enough to keep him moving forward.

Through his blurred eyesight, he could see the river nearby through a clearing of trees.

The water gleamed like a wide cobalt sanctuary as it flowed softly in front of him. It was inviting and he felt his body colliding into trees for brief rest.

The second he was near the water, he fell to the ground and crawled his way towards it. Dragging himself in the mud, he made his way to the shore and buried himself in the cold water. Rain let out a pleasurable moan as the water washed him in its forgiving embrace. The current by the shore was subtle but still tried to pull him into the river. Rain pushed himself towards the edge with his bottom on the sandy bottom of the riverbed and wrapped his arm around a root that was growing by the river's shore.

Like blood in his veins, he could already feel it's presence flowing within him and seeking out each wound to tend.

He leaned his head back as the day passed, the water gradually healing his wounds. The pain was still abhorrent, but it was subsiding. Rain would need to remain in the river for a day or so if he wanted to return to full strength, but he knew he could not wait that long.

Tanya was still with Kotal Kahn and he had no doubt that she would reveal their selected rendezvous location to him for leniency. The plan was his and knew she would convey it to Kotal Kahn very adamantly despite her participation in it.

They had chosen the cave outside of the village they had taken over, mainly because of how close it was to Z'unkaharah.

Rain knew better than to return to the cave and as the water healed his body, it also helped restore clarity of how he had ended up in the Kuatan Jungle. Even in his battered state, he knew better than to trust Tanya and go to the cave. The Kuatan Jungle was vast and even if she informed the Osh-Tekk that he would most likely run to it, it would be harder to find him.

He wasn't planning on turning himself into a permanent resident of the jungle. He would hide elsewhere once he was capable of travel. Rain let a small smirk cross on his face. Even though she was a fellow Edenian, her testament of where Rain was would prove inadequate in capturing him, Kotal would be frustrated and have her executed. The Hydromancer let out a small chuckle at the thought.

Your traitorous ways have finally caught up with you. Cannot say that it was hard to predict they would.

With his arm hooked into the root and the sun beginning to set behind the trees, he allowed himself to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

The night blanketed the jungle in darkness when he woke and felt the narrow edge of a spear tip pressed into the side of his exposed throat.

Rain hadn't even heard anyone approach him from behind. Otherwise, he would have woken up but could tell they were behind him on the bank and carrying a torch in the opposite hand; the amber glow flickered against the surface of the water like glittering carnelian stones.

"Son of Argus or not," a child-like feminine voice behind him began, her tone strangely pompous for a child. "The rivers do not belong to you and I would not linger in them for so long."

Rain felt his lip curl in annoyance. How dare a mere child threaten him - especially when she knew who he was. She should know better. He would teach her a lesson her parents should have.

He raised the hand that was submerged in the water and teleported. Despite the water healing him slightly, the effort drained him and as he emerged behind the child and spun on his heels, he found himself struck with the blunt end of the spear. The attack surprised him as much as he hated to admit it. Even though it was a blow from a child, his damaged jaw still twinged with pain.

The child was not alone, behind her, the one holding the torch was a man, and much to Rain's surprise, they were both Edenians. Something he was barely able to tell under the layer of their barbaric appearance.

The man accompanying her was Edenian for sure, despite he wore many years of living in the jungle on him. He was much older than Rain with a face that was tan and weathered by the elements.

Despite the night, the torch provided enough light for Rain to make out the burns on the right side of his face that stretched across the top of his forehead, over his bald head and stopped at the distorted shape of flesh where his ear used to be.

His mustache was long and braided; both dark ends reaching towards his collarbone. He wore a long, tan cape that was mismatched and sewed together with different hides of animals. Under the poncho, he was bare except for the red sarong around his hips. Except for torch, he also had a quiver of arrows and a dark longbow draped horizontally over his chest with the string facing towards Rain.

Rain also noticed that the outside of his arms and chest were adorned with decorative tribal scarring that resembled scales. The ones on his arms ran in a narrow line from his elbows to the top of his shoulder while the other set ran parallel over his pectoral muscles and stopped at his stomach. Rain felt his lip curl up when they instantly reminded him of that wretched Zattteran.

The child was Edenian, but the Hydromancer could sense she was also a mixture of some other lineage. Her skin was olive-toned like Tanya's, but a shade darker.

She was a perplexing little creature and far more interesting than her older male accomplice who Rain could figure out instantly he was a warrior.

Her clothing was far more intricate. The girl wore a long, sleeveless indigo colored dress decorated with white shells that were stitched in diamonds shapes. She bore none of the scars that the man wore. Most of her skin was unflawed besides the red tattoos that ran horizontally on each cheek of her face.

Besides the dress, her hair long wiry hair was braided down her back. She wore an amethyst pendant on a gold chain that caught Rain's eye for a moment. It was a rough stone; as if it was broken apart from a smoother gem and held together by strings of gold wire-wrapped around it. The girl noticed him peering at it and let out a giggle that caused him to look at her face again.

There was something unsettling about the girl, who seemed more to gaze right through Rain than at him. Her blue, cyan colored eyes were vibrant even in the darkness and held maturity for one so young. The eyes... they seemed as unnatural as her stoic demeanor and they alone sent a flicker of alertness through Rain.

She gave him an innocent smile as she walked towards him, using her spear that was far too long for her as a walking stick with each step.

"You mistake our intentions, Prince Rain. I am but a messenger," the child admitted with a peaceful tone. "You see it is Zorvul who owns this river and he shares it with no other descendant of Argus."

"You are fortunate," the older man gave a dark humored smirk. "Zorvul is particular. Though he has known the make the rare exception depending on his hunger."

Rain flashed the male with a scowl.

"Chaeomi mentioned you would be difficult to locate," he stated. "Though she knew you would seek water. Our Chajman is never wrong."

The corner of the girl's mouth lifted into a small smirk and it was not difficult for Rain to understand that he was referring to his little escort.

Rain narrowed his eyes. "And for what purpose were you searching for me?"

The man indicated to the girl with a wave of his hand. Rain found it rather irritating for some reason that this man was taking orders from something so small and weak. Nevertheless, he tossed out the thought for a moment.

"Why?" Rain demanded again.

"We wish to offer you sanctuary," Chaeomi announced with a soothing tone. "A fellow Edenian— a Son of Argus—is more than welcome. You are wounded. We will see that you heal properly. The servants of Ko'atal Kahn will not find you here despite what Tanya will tell him."

Rain flashed the girl with a speculative look. How did this girl know all this? The arctic colored eyes narrowed minutely at him, almost as if in a challenging manner as her head cocked to the side. She could see the distrust in him and she did not approve of it.

The Hydromancer threw them both a hot look of defiance before he turned his heel and back to them. "I am not a mere dog that can be summoned. Follow me and I will snatch the life from you both."

Rain let out a howl when something pierced his shoulder from the back and exited out the front. The Hydromancer fell to his knees and grasped his wounded shoulder; already weeping with blood.

The girl had pierced him with the spear— something unexpected. Rain growled as his hand wrapped around the spear tip; a powering dizziness beginning to overwhelm him.

Before he could retaliate, he felt the end of the spear yank him back. His torso was forced to straighten and he let out a howl of pain before the spear pushed down, and he found himself crouched over the jungle floor like a servant; he gripped the dirt with animosity. His blurry vision fixed on the girl's sandaled feet. He made a weakened swing at her that she dodged by merely turning her body to the side. The bodyguard gave the spear a twist as a warning— he cried out.

The girl glanced around at the floor before her eyes lighted up. Rain grimaced, breathing painfully through his gritted teeth in rage when he saw her pick up a rock.

"Do not think of it as a summons," Chaeomi corrected as she looked down at the round stone in her hand with indifference. Her unnatural colored eyes fixed on him and she smiled at him. With more strength than what was expected to come from her, she bashed him on the side of the head with the rock.

Rain suddenly felt hiss arms buckle and found himself face down on the jungle floor; his vision blurry and every muscle feeble. Through the bewildering fog of his dwindling consciousness, he could make out bare feet of the girl stop next to Rain's head.

"but as an invitation..." Chaeomi said. Her voice was wavered and distorted as he laid his head against the

Before The Hydromancer blacked out, he was able to make out the final words she spoke to him…

"... to your fate Son of Argus..."

The lone gunslinger stared at the mound of charcoaled bodies, his eyes fixed on a particular spot on the pile. He endured the stench, solely out of respect, but finally reached his limitations and turned his back.

Erron adamantly tried to persuade himself that it was because of the smell and not because it was Bert's body burning along with all the anonymous that bothered him. He certainly didn't want to admit that standing at the pyre reminded him of what it was like to be at a funeral. He had only been to a few and despised them. He always felt choked by an unknown guilt he couldn't place the cause of.

Black hadn't mourned the dead since he arrived in Outworld. What was the point when folks dropped dead like flies on a daily basis? There was no reason to develop any attachments to someone that would be dead within a week. It was something he grew comfortable with— something he was content leaving back in Earthrealm.

He only attended funerals in Earthrealm; a land he wanted nothing to do with. His first funeral was his mother's.

Send the departed your condolences by remembering the better times about 'em. No need to ponder on times so bitter.

Black could barely make out the memory. All he remembered was that it was night and only two people stood at her grave: Erron and at that moment, the man he refused to acknowledge as anyone other than a hated acquaintance, but would become so much more as the years passed.

They were the first words anyone had told him at a funeral and it was from someone he had mistakenly loathed. He couldn't remember how old he was when his mother passed; he never cared about keeping track and couldn't even remember the year he was born anymore.

All he knew that it was some time after all the bloody turmoil. He had only lived through one Civil War—Outworld's— and the only thing he knew about Earthrealm's was that they were still fighting even after the conclusion. All he remembered... was the wrath.

The same that had cost his mother's life and the man who killed her.

"Am I to go away now? Now that momma is dead?" he had asked.

Despite that time had washed away the clarity of what he looked like, he still remembered the green eyes under the black brim hat that looked down at him with indescribable rage—one he did his best to hide with a stoic expression but failed. The way he scratched his black and salted beard before he gave him his answer.

"No."

Erron pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a hard shake of his head.

Why was he choosing to recall all of this? It's useless. What was in the past was irrelevant— so why was it sprouting up in his mind like a weed, now?

He felt his fist tightened; he knew exactly the reason.

The girl he didn't even know the name of.

There were so many things that she had unintentionally dug up. She had become an involuntarily grave robber and unearthed everything he had wanted to stay buried. Erron knew she wasn't intentionally trying to bring up his old business, but she had –as did Bert.

The day of the siege was the final stone that was knocked loose and sent every boulder of his old life tumbling down on him. He could no longer ignore it, even if he did hardly remember much. It was all there, slowly resurfacing and every attempt to put up the wall he spent decades building felt fruitless.

Erron knew what his first omen was— it was when he saw her get hit in the doorway.

It was an uncanny reflection of the night his mother died, the first blow the man that knocked on the door. She refused to let him in and he struck her in the same manner and sent her flying into the room while he cowered under her bed with the small pocket derringer she kept. She had given it to him when she knew she would need it more. That was when Erron knew she truly loved him and not the man he thought she did more.

The other omen, one he never even considered, was the knife; both the girl and his mother used one. The one she grabbed from her dresser before he backhanded her and sent her into the metal bedpost. Unlike the girl, she never did get to stab her attacker.

Black felt a flicker of disgust when he remembered himself crying under the bed, even though he knew he was a kid at the time and such weakness would be understandable to most people. A loaded pistol in his hands and all he could do was watch his mother being attacked.

He had been a coward. He could have saved her and didn't and always used his age as an excuse. He knew how to use a gun, his mother was his first teacher, but he was useless.

He strangled her in front of him, the only thing he could see where her feet thrashing as he sat on top of her with her hands around her throat. Even with the gun aimed at him, his hands trembling, he couldn't pull the trigger; he couldn't even aim as he cried like a welp underneath her bed.

"Whore! Cunt! You left me for this? To spread legs for any Jayhawker lookin' to spend a bit!"

Erron doubted she had heard any of it, but he did and it resonated as harshly now as it did then. His mother was none of those things despite her occupation. Black remembered him picking up the discarded knife, planting it inside her neck.

The gurgling was awful, but not as much as the silence that followed after her hands had thumped against the floorboards; the only sound he had to soak up was the haggard, angry, exhausted breathing of the man that sat on top of her looking down at her.

He spat at her corpse as he picked himself off her and it was only then he decided to do something. He crawled out from under the bed. He had not thought of the man since that night and regarded him as nothing but a monster—he wanted to kill him.

He was bulky and tall, his dark clothing was torn and tattered as his soul appeared in the blue eyes that stared at him with brief surprise before they flashed with relentless annoyance.

"You gonna shoot me, you little shit?"

Much toErron's dissatisfaction, when he recollected his opportunity to kill him, all he had managed to do was sob and lower the gun. The blonde haired man, whose hair was as wild as rouge wolf's, grabbed him by the front of his collared shirt and pulled the pistol inside of his belt and placed in into Erron's chest.

Yet another reminder of the girl and it disappointed him rather than settled the mystery that plagued him why he didn't shoot her that night. Erron finally understood why he had been so uncomfortable and had never gone through with it that night— why he thought it was wrong.

He had been in the same situation.

"Are you even mine or the bastard of another man's fuck?"

Back then, he didn't understand what he was talking about or how heavy the weight of his words were and the meaning they carried until after all of it. He had never met his father; he didn't even care that he had one. Mother had said that he never needed to meet him, anyway.

Unfortunately, Erron did and their first encounter involved his own father placing a gun on him.

He remembered the eyes mostly, and how every inch of his shook with rage. His eyes, however, there was a disturbing sorrow behind them; greeting him behind the curtain of rage. Erron wasn't sure if it was his tears that he saw or his father's.

She took every possessin— includin' what I could of had... what I been needin'

Erron had always found it how strange he went from charging into the room like a bull, destroying everything in his path, to something docile and pitiful as a whimpering dog.

He never did kill him, even though despite his sadness Erron could tell he really wanted to—they were interrupted.

He fled out the window and braved the second story drop. The other whores and the owner of the saloon found him over his mother's body, the people he thought of as family for some time.

He learned how to count from the bartender. How to swear from the other doves, the country's history from the man the owned the Livery that came in sometimes. However, as soon as his mother was gone, he was a burden they had to get rid of. Ship off on the first available stagecoach out.

Erron remembered even as they were talking about what to do, the doves crying over their madam, he still thought his mother looked beautiful even lying dead. She truly was. Blonde haired, blue eye version of some Greek deity herself.

What was her name?

He wasn't sure if it was fate, but the only driver in town happened to be the only man his mother had ever loved more than him. Actually, he hated him for it for the longest time and thought his mother lowly because of it.

The only reason he knew about them, despite his mother's lies that she was going to the tailor, was every time that damn coach pulled into town and unloaded passengers, she left. He followed her one night and found them in the midst of their session in the parked coach. The shades on the carriage were drawn, but he knew the sounds—he had heard them a million times from the other whores—and it was enough for Erron to understand what they were doing.

He had confronted him before he left for the trail the next day. Erron let a small smile creep onto his face at the memory. He had called him a 'cocksucker' and to 'stay away from his ma.'

Abraham hadn't even batted an eye at him.

He didn't want to remember him, but he did. As much as Erron fought it, he could still see Abe's green eyes vividly in his mind. The same ones that always held a vast vault of tacit knowledge that always bothered Erron for as long as he knew him. They always knew something that he never shared, always calculating, always correct in all assumptions. Always studying. Always… haunted.

"Between me and your ma'— it ain't what you think and you be better off from preaching the vocabulary of the whores. Unless you want unpleasantness to come lookin' for you. " was all he had told him before he left that day.

The stupid, hot-headed kid thought he was putting him down, but truly he was just offering advice. Advice he abstained and ended up with a black eye when he muttered something along the same lines to Abraham. Erron couldn't remember who hit him, some saloon resident long dead by now.

Abraham didn't deserve what he called him, nor Erron's misplaced animosity for the simple crime of being the only man his mother loved truly.

Erron knew, Abraham had felt the same.

Even at that young age, Erron could see the darkness that had entered him at her death. Abraham was never more frightening than he was that night. His green eyes had darkened into coals that blazed with a muted promise of vengeance. He wanted nefarious and satisfactory revenge to quell the heat within him, even if it meant damning his own soul.

There was only one other person he could recall he had seen the same look from...

"You are sorry? Do you want to know what the problem with your apology is? It is just not good enough!"

He finally remembered it. His mother's name.

Minerva.

"Let's guarantee your pa' pays his condolences, as well."

Erron understood and she was right. He of all people knew what a proper apology was and what it entailed. Both women earned it even though one only received it.

"I never did get your name."

"And you never will."

Turns out she was right all along. He never had.

"Men— no— things like you are incapable of feeling anything like penance for your actions!"

She was wrong about that.

He did.

Erron had become the thing he cowered under the bed from all those years ago. The thing he hunted down and thought he had destroyed. Erased with the promise of never becoming a mirror of his father. This was not what Abraham wanted of him.

"Do you see what you are?! Nothing but an arrogant, ungrateful, son of a whore!"

"...you came into my life and destroyed EVERYTHING... I have NOTHING because of you and not ONCE were you ever SORRY!"

He was and did all those things. He knew what all those things felt like. He had become the architect of someone else's misery—and he wasn't even are aware of her name nor would have the chance to make up for it. The simplest of human recommendations for knowing someone for so long, especially doing business with them at one point.

Because of him.

"Black!"

Erron smelled Reptile before he even approached him; he may have been trapped in his thoughts but still alert to the world around him. The Zatteran threw his head in the direction behind him.

"Ko'atal wishes to see us. We have much to discuss," was all he said. He turned on his heel with Black following behind him. Even with the distraction that was welcomed, he couldn't help but continue to dwell internally with his self-loathing.

"Human. Are you anymore?"

When was it when he truly stopped?

Norah wasn't quite sure what had been more uncomfortable: the hole in the abandoned building she slept in before coming to the palace, or the cell she was trapped in now. They both had unbearable qualities that were mirror images. The cell and the burrow were both hot and stole every breath. However in the hole, she had sand to lay on and the blunt bricks in her dungeon she slept on dug irritably into every curve. Also, she hadn't been stabbed.

Another similarity was the starvation. Norah hadn't eaten for two days now. The only reason she knew because the sensation was nothing new.

Though she was hurting, imprisoned and at the lowest she had felt emotionally, she was actually thankful for the reprieve. Only because it gave her permission to bury herself in her own loneliness in her cell without eyes to watch.

She had gotten so close to freedom and miserably failed. Norah hadn't kill the gunslinger, nor did she retrieve her contract from Tama.

For the longest time, she thought she actually believed she could be content with her situation despite the nefarious way she had be tricked into it. Carver, Bert, and Bao had been her anchors for her thoughts to stray into darker corners of how worthless she actually felt. No longer did she have that belief.

There was nothing good to make of her situation. No silver lining, that Carver had mentioned. Any restoration that had been done to try and manipulate her into thinking that her current predicament could become the norm vanished.

She hated this place. This illusion of amenity living within the guarded palace walls; safe from nomads, disease, and starvation— she would welcome all the macabre terrors if it meant her emancipation from her Hell.

Once she was released from this cell— whenever Tama felt ready to— she would do everything possible to escape the palace. The threat of execution or not. She had not forgotten her promise and had tried desperately to save up enough money at the docks to buy passage to Sun Do until Erron Black prevented it. The threat of death looming over her head with Tama holding the executioners ax almost made her forgo it entirely; that it was a fantasy that she would never fulfill.

Not anymore.

I will leave no matter what. I will walk through the Kuatan Jungle. Do whatever is necessary— as I should have done earlier but was too frightened to.

Norah traced the outline of a brick on the floor; the stone scratching against her forefinger like coarse sand. She felt a pang of guilt for accepting the job at the docks to gain extra money, trying to be smart about getting to Sun Do. If she had known Erron Black would be coming after her, she would have ran without a moment's hesitation.

Her biggest mistake was allowing herself to become foolishly content with the palace. With the people around her and her dough to numb any ideas of running away. She had been stupid.

Not anymore.

Now that she recalled each loaf she had made during her confinement, it only burrowed and ripped her apart inside even more like a malicious parasite. Her mother— the woman she considered her real mother— she continued to make her wait for her and she knew with every fiber that she still was.

"It might be the rainy days, it might be the stars that I look at every day. Or the moments I sit in silence, alone, the times that I turn and look behind me. I still remember our days well, they're still clear in my heart. I can remember the same sound of your voice well, every word, and it'll never fade away."

Even after years away from Sun Do, when her father and mother forced her to move to this dreadful capitol, her mother was always in Sun Do; the same one that had told her that song.

"When you are ready—and when you feel they will be ok on their own—you are always welcome to come back. Every day you are gone, I promise to always wait for you."

"I will get out of here, " Norah whispered. "As soon as I can get out, I will get to Sun Do. I will not stall. I will not keep you waiting, Lành."

"Are you done talking to yourself, yet? Please do try and be considerate to others in adjoining cells around you," came a sardonic female voice from across the hall.

Norah lifted her head at the new voice, groaning slightly from the discomfort in her shoulder and looked towards the door. She hadn't even been aware that there was someone else. It had been so quiet since she had been here.

"I must say I thought you would have tried to interrogate me by now, instead of keeping up with your pitiful performance as a helpless despondent prisoner."

Norah's eyes narrowed and she rolled on her uninjured side with her back to the door. Whoever the other woman was, she honestly wanted nothing to do with her. Her sarcasm was offensive and perplexing.

"It's very heartfelt what you keep repeating to yourself. Is it a song? Cannot say I have heard it before nor wish to again," the female mocked.

Norah didn't answer, instead let out a heavy agitated exhale.

"What's the matter?" she came again, her tone annoyingly bitter. "You were talking so much before. You don't want to speak to me? Isn't that what you are here for anyway?"

Norah furrowed her eyebrows at the accusation; unsure what exactly her neighbor was referring to.

"You can inform Ko'atal that I will not negotiate Rain's location without something in return," she said, her words a snide dance in Norah' direction.

Norah immediately felt her blood boil at the mention of Rain's name— the Edenian bastard. Her fist clenched as her upper lip flickered with hatred. Unfortunately, the mention of his name caught her attention which she knew was the obnoxious woman's intention.

"And what is it exactly that you want?" Norah snarled, her eyes flickered towards the door despite not rolling over to view it.

"My head still attached to my shoulders, mostly," she replied simply. "I doubt Ko'atal would be willing to let me go free even if I did let him know where Rain might hide. I'll make do with what I can get. Food would also be nice."

Norah rolled her eyes and choose not to comment. Instead, her mind tried to piece together what association the woman would have to Rain and why Kotal Kahn would have her imprisoned.

She scoffed when she reached her answer that it was no doubt an Edenian loyalist that had raided the palace. Considering her interaction with Edenians— Hulin and the False Prince— she couldn't say that she wanted to have a discussion with her no matter how bad Norah's bouts of boredom became.

"Is that all you are going to ask me? I have to say this is by far the briefest interrogation I have ever experienced. You must be new at this," was her derisive remark.

"I am not here to interrogate you," Norah fired back, growing impatient.

"Then why else would you be here?" she challenged.

"My concern and not yours," Norah snapped.

"What did you do? Anything worth listening to?" she chided.

The side of Norah's mouth tugged up in agitation. This woman wouldn't stop. "No."

As much as she wanted to ignore her, the mention of Rain couldn't help but bring out her curiosity. "How is it that you know where Rain is?"

"I thought you were not here to interrogate me," she pointed out with a mocking tone.

"I am not," Norah agreed. She sucked in a shaky breath. "He murdered my friend. I want him dead."

He heard her chuckle slightly, "Something we can both agree that we have in common. Don't worry he'll die— but by my word only."

The dark, ominous statement caused Norah to actually turn her head over her shoulder slightly to face the door. "What did he do to you?"

There was a slight pause. "Let's just say that nobody betrays me. I suppose technically in a way he didn't. I actually expected this of him therefore if there is anyone who deserves the title, it is me."

"You sound abnormally proud to call yourself a traitor," Norah criticized with a flat tone.

"Why not? Everybody else does..."

Norah immediately frowned with extreme unease, the realization who was in the next cell was blatantly obvious without having to look through the prison door.

Tanya.

"Of course you would work with him," Norah whispered to herself, disdain for the woman in the next cell dripping with each word.

"What was that?" Tanya asked. "Was it something rude? I'm pretty good at name calling as well, although I don't resort to it like a child."

Norah's eyes flashed with anger and she was about to retort until she heard the main door to the dungeon open; creaking harshly on the hinges. Norah sat up, using her better arm as a pillar as she twisted her body towards the door.

Her eyes squinted against the little light the torches on the wall provided and through the bars she could barely make out Hulin's face. Quietly, she rose to her feet and made her way over to the door; eavesdropping mainly out of slight interest what he wanted.

"I had heard rumors that it was you and Rain that attempted to kill Kotal Kahn," she heard Hulin deride through the heavy wooden door. "Any peddling impersonator of a soothsayer could have told you how it would have ended— or just anyone in general."

Norah heard movement and slight grunt of pain before Tanya replied sourly but confidently: "Is your torture to talk to me to death because you are succeeding."

"Actually, he has granted me permission to use any method," Hulin stated with a deep and foreboding tone. "Do not be so quick to annoy me, Tanya, or it will go slower."

Tanya let out a mocking chortle of laughter at the palace torturer. "You will not touch me."

"Is that so?" Hulin questioned with blasé tone.

"If your knife so much as cuts a chunk of my hair, Ko'atal will have nothing," Tanya warned. Her voice bordering on arrogant and infuriated.

"Are you that willing to die for the one that betrayed you?" Hulin prodded with disbelief. "Are you two lovers?"

Tanya snorted with disgust. "Do not be absurd. Run and tell your Emperor that 'I would rather die satisfied knowing that Rain will continue to be a vexation or he can grant me what I want.' I would rather be loyal to a citizen of Edenia than let a false king win that does not honor my heritage—unless there was something he could provide me with in return."

"Since when did loyalty start to become such a persuasive trait to you?" Hulin huffed. "What is it you want the Emperor to grant you?"

Norah heard Tanya let out a thoughtful and playful sigh. "I am no fool. Tell Ko'atal I want leniency or he will never find Rain."

The baker heard Hulin let out a cynical laugh. "I will relay your message and know that I look forward to torturing you."

"When do you not look forward to torturing anyone?" the female Edenian derided. "I have to ask because I have always been curious to know if I'm right. Do you lay with them before or after they are dead? Mileena and I were always disagreeing about which one you did first."

Norah's eyes shifted at the statement as her mouth opened and closed with trepidation. She wasn't stupid; he knew exactly what Tanya meant by the question and whether it was true or not Norah swallowed back the bile the wanted to creep up her throat.

She flinched when she heard a heavy fist pound on the door; an angry and stern warning that earned a snicker out of Tanya. "Perhaps you will find out."

"I doubt it," Tanya bit back calmly. "Run along messenger boy and if it's not too much trouble, could I have something to eat and some better company to talk to? The one in the cell across from me is not so talkative."

The cup-bearer panicked when she heard footsteps come across to her cell. Immediately, she rose to her feet and backed away from the bars. She saw Hulin peer through the bars of the window's door. At first, he looked confused to see her there, but then smiled his counterfeit friendly smile at her.

"Norah. How did you ever get in a cell, my dear?" he asked.

She lifted her chin, her mouth pressed tightly in a show of false bravado as she felt her skin crawl under his gaze. "Tama and I had a disagreement."

"Oh? Of what kind?" he smirked lightly.

She gulped slightly but did her best not to falter. "I thought I should be free and she disagreed."

Norah looked at him warily, especially when he looked down at something in his hand and heard the jingling of metal against each other. Norah frowned heavily when the door opened and Hulin stepped through.

Trepidation and suspicion coursed through her with each step he took towards her. He glanced at her shoulder, tilting his head slightly like he was inspecting an object at a vendor's stall. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You are injured. That will get infected the longer you stay in here," Hulin said to her, his words serious but his eyes glinting like a predator behind his innocent veil. He offered her his hand and Norah looked at it like a murderous fisherman's lure.

"I am sure Tama would not mind if I at least dressed your wound properly so you did not get sick."

Norah knew better than to trust anything that Tanya said; each word that sprung out of her mouth was a fabrication birthed from manipulation. However, the more Hulin looked at her, and the Pyromancer's words ran through her head, she had no choice but to believe that the traitor was telling the truth. She had always felt there was something wrong about the dungeon torturer, now she understood what he was.

A predator- and a disgusting one. There were many in Outworld and it was not hard to assume he was one of them.

"With all due respect, I will remain in my cell," Norah told him. Each word careful and toneless to not offend him. "Tama would be displeased if I left. She has seen my shoulder and I am sure she will not let her investment die in a cell."

Hulin's mouth tugged with indignation slightly, almost unnoticeable and revealing to Norah all she needed to confirm she was right about his intention. However, he lowered his hand and gave a smile with an indifferent sigh.

"If that is your wish," was all he said before he turned around and left. Locking the cell door with Norah's cautious eyes watching every move. She let out the breath she was holding in and wiped the hair sticking from her sweaty forehead. Her eyes happened to look through the bars briefly before she saw Tanya looking at her from behind her own set of bars; her wrists manacled in irons with the cuffs imbedded with a blue crystal that swirled likes ocean waves. She draped both of her wrists through the door in a lazy and pompous posture.

At least, Norah did not look as badly injured as she was. Her face was an assortment of different colored bruises that blended together and made it almost impossible to decipher what color they were in the low lighting.

Her dark raven hair was as mangled and caked in blood as Norah's was and she saw the corner of her mouth tug up in a smug understanding smile.

"You can learn a lot by eavesdropping," she commented. "Especially that there are worst things then being a traitor."

Norah flashed her with an neutral expression, but both women knew that she absorbed the truthfulness of Tanya's words.

Tanya turned away from the bar, her face twitching with slight discomfort as she watched her hobble up and down; her leg possibly injured. Her amber eyes gave Norah one last belittling look before she said: "By the way, nice necklace."