The palace still shook occasionally as the earth rumbled in memory, groaned as if it would deny what had happened. Bars of sunlight cast through rents in the walls made motes of dust glitter where they yet hung in the air. Scorch-marks marred the walls, the floors, the ceilings. Broad black smears crossed the blistered paints and gilt of once-bright murals, soot overlaying crumbling friezes of men and animals which seemed to have attempted to walk before the madness grew quiet. The dead lay quiet, men, women, and children, struck down in attempted flight by the black lightnings that had flashed down every corridor, or seized by the fire that had stalked them, or sunken into stone of the tower, the stones that had flowed and sought, almost alive, before stillness came again. In odd counterpoint, colorful tapestires and painting, masterworkds all, hung undisturbed except where bulging walls had pushed them awry. Finely carved furnishings, inlaid with ivory and gold, stood untouched except where rippling floors had toppled them. The mind-twisting had struck at the core, ignoring peripheral things.
Raven wandered the palace, deftly keeping her balance when the earth heaved. "Hringer! My friend, where are you?" The edge of her white cloak trailed through blood as she stepped over the body of an elf, his handsome features marred by the horror of his last moments, his still-open eyes frozen in disbelief. "Where are you Hringer? Where is everyone hiding?" Her eyes gave the impression of seeing too much. Raven began to laugh suddenly.

"Hringer, come to me. You should see this." Behind her, the air rippled, shimmered, solidified into a man who looked around, his mouth twisting with distaste. He was much taller than Raven, clad in black with skin of crimson red. He stepped without care to the bodies on the ground. The floor trembled, but his attention was focased on the unaware Raven.
"Lady of the Morning," he said, "I have come for you." Raven's laughter cut off as if it'd never been, and she turned, seemingly unsurprized. "Bringer, Bringer, where are you?"

The red-skinned man's eyes narrowed, darting to the body of the elf, then back to Raven. "Perhaps, my trap for your memory was too much."

Raven shuddered. "You are too dangerous."

"So you do remember that much at least. What else do you remember? Remember, light-loving fool! Remember!"

For a moment Raven stared at his raised hand, fascinated by the patterns of grime. Then she spoke. "What do you want? Who are you?"

The demon drew himself up arrogantly. "I am Trigon"
"Betrayer of Hope." It was a whisper from Raven.
Memory stirred but she turned her head, shying away from it.

"You do remember some things. Yes, Betrayer of Hope is what mortals call me, just as they call you Slayer, but unlike you I will embrace my name. They gave me the name to revile me, but I will make them worship it! What will you do with yours? After this day, the title Slayer will be spoken with greater hatred. What will you do with that?"

Raven frowned down the ruined hall. "Bringer should be here," she murmered absently, then raised her voice. "Bringer, where are you?" The floor shook. The elf's body moved, as if to answer her call. Her eyes did not see him.

Trigon scornfully said, "Once you were mighty, now you are a pitiful, shattered wench."

"Bringer..." It was the only word she could think of.
Trigon's sudden smile was cruel. "I think it is now that your sanity should be returned." He extended his hand and the light dimmed, as if a shadow had been laid across the sun. Pain blazed in Raven, and she screamed, a scream that came from her depths, a scream she could not stop. She toppled backward, crashing to the marble floor; her head struck stone, and rebounded. Her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest, and every pulse gushed a new flame. Helplessly, she convulsed, her skull a sphere of pure agony on the point of bursting. Her hoarse screams reverberated through the palace.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain receded. The outflow seemed to take a thousand years before she could shakily push herself onto her hands and knees. Her eyes fell on the elf, and the screamed ripped out of her dwarfed any noise she'd made before. Tottering, almost falling, she scarambled brokenly across the floor. It took every bit of strength to pull him into a sitting position in her lap. Her hands shook as she looked at his staring face.
"Light, help me." Her body curved around his protectivly, her sobs just barely controlled.

"Slayer, you can have him back if you serve me."

Raven raised her head, and Trigon took an involuntary step back from that gaze. "Ten years, Betrayer," Raven said softly, the soft sound of a sword being drawn. "Ten years you have wracked the earth and now this. I will-"

"Ten years! You pitiful fool! The war has not lasted ten years, but since the beginning of time! You and I have fought many battles, and we will continue to feud, but in the end I will be triumphant!" He finished in a shout, with a raised fist, and it was Raven's turn to pull back, breath catching at the glow in Trigon's eyes.
Carefully Raven laid Bringer's fingers down. Tears blurred her vision, but her voice was iced iron. "For what you have done, there can be no forgiveness, Trigon, and I will destroy you beyond anything you can"
"Remember, you fool! Remember your attack on me before and remember my counter stroke! Remember! What hand slew Bringer, Slayer? Not mine. What hand struck down everyone who loved you, everyone you loved? Not mine. Not mine, remember? Know the price of opposing me"

Raven's howl beat at the walls, the howl of one who discovered her soul damned by her own hands, and she tore at her face as if to forget. Everywhere she looked, she found the dead. Torn they were, or consumed by fire, or lightning, or half-consumed by stone.

Everywhere lay the lifeless faces she knew. Old servants, old friends or her childhood, faithful companions, and solidors sprawled like broken dolls, play stilled forever. All slain by her hand. Her friend's faces accused her, blank eyes asking why, and her tears were no answer. Trigon's laughter flogged her, drowned out the howl. She could not bear the faces, the pain. She could not bear to remain any longer.

The land around her grew thicker as encased by her engery. A river flowed full of it. Tears glistened on her cheeck as she turned her face upward. "Forgive me!" She did not think it could come, forgivness. Not for what she had done, but she shouted to the ones she'd killed anyway, begged for what she did not beleive she could recieve. Her aura tainted the world. The very air found itself thick with it. The blackness made the world thrash and quiver like a living thing in agony, and it thrust itself skyward while Raven sobbed.

At last, the earth stilled to trembling mutters. Of Raven, no sign remained. Where she had stood a mountain rose into the sky, molten lave still gushing from its peak. The broad river had split to surround the mountain, to form an island. On the island Trigon laughed. "It is not done between us Slayer. It will not be done until the end of time."

And then he was gone. And the mountain and the island stood waiting.


(A/N: Another Raven and Trigon ficcie, yes, yes. Well, it's already all written, so all I have to do for this one is type it out, then post it! ha-ha. Please R&R! I live on comments!)