Revision note: Lengthened and enriched considerably. Raziel seemed really weak here; I wanted her to more of a fiery she-demon instead of a war-weary elf. So I changed the conversation between her and Sarevok. She's a lot meaner, a lot more confrontational and a lot more pissed off. Her attitude later in the story reflects that a bit more, and in my mind Raziel was never one to take anything lying down, so I completely redid her dialogue in this chapter, and some of Sarevok's. Something tells me he wouldn't be pitying her, not yet anyway. And, as I was informed that elves aren't affected by sleep spells, which I had completely forgotten, so I changed that around also. Sooooo……. Enjoy! Enjoy!

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In the morning, the wreckage of the temple still burned. There were quite a few injuries from burns and glass cuts, but no casualties, and no fatal wounds. No, the wounds were not those of the flesh, but those of the soul.

Sarevok looked over the priests and followers of Tarquinn, huddled in makeshift tents and looking completely devastated. Many were disheartened that the temple of their God could be destroyed on the very night of their God's ascension. The completely destruction of Tarquinn's temple had certainly created a lack of faith in some. Some were whispering that this was the work of a wrathful rival God, or perhaps even Bhaal himself, somehow returned from the dead. Many wondered if a God who could not protect his own temples could protect his followers as well.

This was most likely the effect the attacker was aiming for.

Imoen had only told Kelsey, Jaheira, and himself about the perpetrator being Liaedra. Sarevok found it slightly amusing that it was his brother's old lover who was causing so much trouble. He remembered that she had been devastated when Quinn had ascended. They had been extremely close; so much so that even Sarevok had been shocked by the fact that he had left her. She had been silent as the remainder of Quinn's group had traveled home. Imoen and Jaheira had been very worried, practically having to force her to eat and drink. She barely slept, most likely haunted by dreams of her former lover. They had all been sure she would pine herself away.

Then, one night, she had simply disappeared. The others had been frantic, and even Sarevok himself had been worried. But they had found no traces of her. For the five years afterwards Imoen still held hope that her friend was alive, as did Kelsey, but Jaheira and Sarevok took a more realistic view. Both believe that Liaedra had either been killed herself, or had allowed herself to be killed. The elf had been a powerful fighter, and it was unlikely anyone or anything could have killed her unless she had wanted it to.

Thusly, they were both finding it hard to believe that the arsonist had been Liaedra. It was hard to believe that she had survived all these years without them knowing. Not only that, but Liaedra had always been a kind, compassionate soul. Sarevok's armies had destroyed her life and yet she had been kind to him when he was resurrected. It seemed so unlikely that that was the same person who had burned down a whole temple over a little grudge.

It was clear that this had not been the attacker's first strike. This temple had been the last of Tarquinn's; all the others had been destroyed by various means, but all of them involved fire. Most thought that there was a group doing this, perhaps the disciples of one of Tarquinn's rival Gods, but perhaps it was a single person, looking for revenge against the man/God that had abandoned her…..

Sarevok wondered what could have happened to the Elven girl to make her into the hateful person she was now. One betrayal, no matter how badly it had stung, would not have transformed Liaedra into a criminal. Imoen's mention of scars only further incited his interest. Obviously, she had been through a lot of pain wince she disappeared. If she had done this, Sarevok was curios as to what had happened in these past five years. She was a puzzle…

His eyes turned to the bluff that had been her vantage point. He wondered if her trail had gone cold yet, or if she could still be followed……..

She was a puzzle he would solve.

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Raziel leaned against a tree, tired as hell. She had been running since shortly before daybreak, not wanting to be found by anyone, especially her friends.

The sight of her old friends had shaken Raziel's usually cool resolve. She had not realized how much she missed them and how much her heart yearned for human companionship. For the majority of the past four years she had been alone. Perhaps it had taken a toll on her after all.

When she had begun this vendetta, she had told herself that death would be welcome. She had accepted it, and she no longer feared it….. or so she had thought. After seeing her friends, she had fled for her life. Was it because she did not want to die at their hands?

Or that they reminded her that she still had people who cared for her, something worth living for?

Raziel smiled. It wasn't as if she needed a reminder that she was not completely sane, but not she was sure of it. Now all I need is to hear little voices in my head and I can be declared officially insane! She thought. Of course, I'm talking to myself, so that probably means I've already lost it.

Her train of thought stopped as she heard the crackle of leaves behind her. So one of the priests or followers from the temple had followed her. She had to give them credit for being able to follow her; se was an ex-ranger and an elf. She had experience that made the most skillful tracker hard-pressed to find her.

She closed her eyes. "Whoever you are, I am not in the mood to be stalked. So leave if you value your life."

"So loathe to kill? I would have thought more of a temple-burner such as yourself. Raziel's eyes opened at the sound of the familiar voice.

Sarevok? Why would he follow…. But he didn't say my name. Perhaps Imoen did not tell him, or he didn't believe her. No matter… I won't be confessing my past or my identity any time soon….

"I have a purpose. I am no random murderer," she said, not turning to face him.

"I never said you were, Liaedra," he said, his voice filled with amusement.

She turned to see him smirking at her. Her smile widened when he saw her face and his suspicions were confirmed.

"Tell me, do you have some odd fetish for pissing others off? Cause it sure as hell seems so!" she shouted angrily.

He blinked. "Well, Imoen was right. You have changed. Instead of an obnoxiously joyful elf, you're a depressed raging one. Fighting for the side of darkness now, are we?"

"Speaks the great turncoat himself. I'm not any anybody's side, Sarevok. I'm on my own side, against your bastard of a brother," she spat.

He smirked. "And here I thought you were in love. Weren't you betrothed?"

"It's kind of hard to marry a man who abandons you to godhood," she growled.

"Quite a shame, isn't it?"

"Shut up, you arrogant ass!" she shouted. She turned and slammed her fist into a tree, ignoring the pain caused by the tree bark splitting her flesh.

She was filled with rage. Raziel had spent a long time sealing up old wounds and carefully crafting the mask that now hid her emotions. Yet with a few words and a grin Sarevok was able to tear her cool façade down, leaving her an angry child. She heard a low chuckle come from him and realized she was amusing him. The bastard found this funny!

She knew, had she been born a Bhaalspawn, the Slayer would have been making an appearance right about now…..

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Sarevok was highly amused. How the mighty had fallen! The calm, collected elf maid who had helped kill him so many years ago was now emotional, raging, and unbalanced. Sarevok gloated shamelessly, though his amusement faded slightly as she turned to face him.

Imoen had been right about Raziel's face. Before shed had been clouded in shadows, but now, as she stepped into the light, he could see her damaged visage. Scars ran across her left eye, her right cheek, and her lips. She seemed much older now; she shouldn't have, since Elves rarely aged that much that quick. Yet weariness hung about her like a shroud, one seldom seen on one as young (by elven reckoning, at least) as she.

And her eyes were…… dead. It was the only way he could describe them. No longer lit, they were a dull grey. So unlike the last time he had seen her. They had always burned with such a fire…..

"You do not understand anything, Sarevok," she said whispered dangerously, her face demonstrating the short leash she had on her rage. "You know nothing of me. Do you think something as simple as a broken heart would have Liaedra change into what I am now? It was much, much more, and even if you could understand, I wouldn't waste my time explaining to you."

"Oh, of course I couldn't understand," he said, just as dangerously. The nerve of this girl……. She was enraging him, though he didn't like to admit it. Her attitude of hopelessness, her disregard for herself and others, and the sheer arrogance radiating off her annoyed him.

And though he would never admit it, part of him realized how very alike she had become….. to himself.

"You know what I think?" he continued. "I think you are just making excuses for yourself. You say that endured torments and tortures beyond belief, but in reality that's just a lie you're hiding behind."

Her rage intensified. "Shut up, you stupid bastard!" she shouted.

He grinned slightly. "You just don't want to hear the truth. That it isn't him. It's you. You're just a selfish, cowardly little girl who can't except that her love abandoned her."

"Shut up!" she screamed, and lunged at him, attacking with short sword. Sarevok had had the sense to bring his two-handed sword with him, and drew it quickly, blocking her attack. She simply attacked again, and though he was able to keep up with her, the sheer rage channeled through her sword fighting was impressive, to say the least.

The elf had never been a fantastic swordfighter. Oh, she was good, to be sure, and could defend and attack easily. Her agility made her particularly capable of fighting. But the few times she sparred with Sarevok, he had always won. His experience and sheer strength had always given him the upper hand.

Now though, they were on an equal playing field. He had improved over the past few years, but she had, too, even more so. Add that to the anger that gave her incredible strength, and you had one hell of a sword fight between the elf and the man.

After crossing swords a multitude of times, the two found themselves a few feet apart, both panting heavily. Sarevok was glaring at his opponent, while Raziel seemed to be unfocused, as if she was in a haze of some sort. He smirked; he couldn't resist prodding her temper one more time.

"Is that all?" he asked, his chest still heaving slightly. "I would have expected ore from an elf on a path of revenge. Or did your goddess suck away your talent as well as her blessing?"

He smirked, realizing this would it hard. Raziel had always worn the pendant of Mielikki (sp?) openly, showing the pride she had as a ranger. She wore it no longer and Sarevok guessed that if she had been burning temples, the goddess had most like rescinded her blessing, making the elf a fallen ranger.

He waited for her scathing reply. Her answer, however, was not what he expected.

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Raziel breathed heavily, her mind blinded by the sheer hatred she felt towards her former companion. Sarevok's insults had hit home and burned, causing her to attack in a fit of rage. He was still as impressive a fighter as always, and she found herself tired and she panted, staring blankly at the ground.

Dammit, she thought. Why can't you leave me alone? That's all I really want…..

She felt her eyes burn with a wet heat, and she realized, detachedly, that they were tears. Raziel hadn't cried for thee or so years, and the fact that Sarevok had been able to so easily pull such a reaction from her made her rage increase. Hot tears curved paths down her face, running over the scars hat marked her once beautiful face. She kept looking down, still unable to wrap her mind around the reality of what was happening.

"Is that all?" he asked, his words caring a path through the cloud of her mind. "I would have expected ore from an elf on a path of revenge. Or did your goddess suck away your talent as well as her blessing?"

The insult burned, and Raziel looked up at him. In the back of her mind, Raziel was slightly pleased at the slight look of shock that crossed his face.

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She was crying. He had made her cry. Sarevok, were he a normal man, would have been angry at himself or feeling sorry for her, but all he could feel was shock, and perhaps a slight bit of amusement. He felt a sadistic bit of thrill at being able to manipulate her emotions so well.

Her eyes had gained back their fire, though. But instead of burning with joy or a love of life, as they had before, they radiated anger and loathing. Sarevok was sure that, had they been able to, her eyes would have glown red.

She looked about to say something, but unfortunately, was cut short. A figure came forth from behind the tree. The person brought a staff down on Raziel's head, and she crumbled to the ground. She did not get up.

Jaheira walked out from the shadows. "Well, that was unexpected," she said, looking down at Raziel. "So it is her."

Sarevok merely grunted and turned away.

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Okay, Chapter two. Nothing like a bunch of moody scenes to help a story along. Yeah I realize Sarevok's roll in this is highly unlikely, but lets just pretend for the sake of Dae Elen's sanity, shall we? Can we all tell something is going on here? He he he he R&R accordingly.