For the next five months, I lived, loved, and died by that sword-- I lived with it at my side, spent every spare minute learning to use it. Olorun and I practiced together every second we could. Time together was rare, since she was only a few months away from her Ordeal, and spent all her time preparing. And as time went on I didn't like spending time with her as much. She snapped at me for little mistakes, and refused to apologize. I didn't mind, too much. That was how she handled her stress, the way she had since we were little; I was used to it. And she angered so rarely, it was easier to endure, knowing she would be the sweet, loving woman she usally was in just a few months.



I still obsessed over Jerin. How could I not? Young, handsome, smart, a childhood friend, he was everything I thought I could ever want. And over that time, I managed to convince myself that he was in love with me as well. But it ran darker than that; he was my answer. Slowly, in my dreams, just before I drifted off to sleep, I could tell myself that he would save me from this fate before it became real. I pretended it was a nightmare, and he, shining like the sun itself, would swoop into the darkness and drive the monsters away. I could build him to an illusion of a god, and since I never saw him, there was nothing to condradict it.



But I could not pretend this life was a dream for long. The crops grew strong and thick off my people's blood that summer. The immortals, those weird, nightmarish creatures previously unknown to the world, were still there, and their numbers were growing rapidly. Tribe leaders from the north saw them as being sent by their enemies' mages to destroy them, and attacked them unceasingly. The prophets saw them as a sign the gods were failing us. The priests saw them as a punishment for the prophet's blasphemy. Skirmishes abounded.



The bloodshed climaxed on Lughnasadh, in a small village along the already weakened Eastern River. A group of wandering prophets were given shelter from a funnel-storm in the town. A nearby temple of Mithran priests heard about it, and rebuked the village for their hospitality towards the "chaos demons." The villagers started throwing rocks at them, and killed one of the priests. A local lord heard of the heresy, and put the entire village-- man, woman, and child-- to the sword.



I heard about it at dinner one day, in hushed whispers that circled the tables like the tiny wind before a storm. The senior priestesses at the high table acted as though they knew nothing about it, except for the pained looks on their faces. Uyne had guard duty and wouldn't get in till halfway through dinner, so I was sitting with a group of girls I barely knew. A woman from the next table leaned over to whisper in my neighbor's ear. Her face slowly grew paler, and then she started murmering quickly to the girl on her other side.



I glanced at the head table, then whispered, "What is it?"



She relayed the story to me in undertones, the pain in her face clearly visible. As she spoke, a growing lump of fear found its way to my chest. "What village?" I asked as she finished.



"Dier's Run" was her quiet response.



I closed my eyes slowly. Uyne's family ran a tavern there. The only tavern, as it were. There was no chance they had gotten out alive. I said a silent prayer for my friend's family as the talk around the room slowly died. I looked up from my plate to see what was happening. Uyne walked in the doorway, smiling, laughing at some joke a fellow priestess had told her. The silence was so loud, it hurt my ears. Who would break the quiet and the news?



Uyne's eyes scanned the room, frowning, undoubtably wondering about the odd behavior. "Wha--?" The question had barely formed on her lips when one of the head priestesses took her arm and lead her from the room. We waited tensely for a minute, then heard the haunting, undying wail of one who had lost all that mattered to her.



I couldn't bear it, the look of fake sympathy on the face of the girl next to me, the uncanny hush of the room, the screaming, above all, that banshee sound.....



I left.



There was no peace anywhere in the Temple. The walls were already saturated with pain-- with the prayers of women with nothing to gain and everything to lose, the cloud of death that had settled over my people, that sound, above all, resonating through the halls. It pressed down on me, the weight of it shattering my heart, breaking my sanity.



And this only the pain of one woman. There were thousands of others. The Black God's realm was crowded with innocent souls. And those left behind were worse than dead. Every day there were stories, of a young bride who took her life when her husband died, of a child that starved waiting for his mother to wake up when she was sleeping in Hell, friends who died together in defense of a useless cause.



Uyne's sobbing took my breath away. Even this day it haunts me. And as years, battles, and lives came and went, I discovered that nothing--not death, not hatred, *nothing*-- scared me as much as that desperate weeping.



I ran into the herb garden behind the temple, where the priestesses grew the herbs for incense and the kitchen. "Goddess!" I screamed into the empty air. "Come to me, now!"



"It is unseemly for mortals to command us Great Ones, daughter," a hissing voice said to my left. "You would do well to remember that."



I spun to face her, rage soaking my skin. "Why are you doing this to us? You gods can do whatever you want, and you're choosing to punish us! *What have we done wrong?*"



She moved out of the shadows, and I could see the change that had come over her. She was garbed in the beautiful robe of a Southern queen, but her hair--dark and shining the last time I saw her, writhing like snakes-- was dull and hung lank around her shoulders, like rough, black rope. Her face was haggard and drawn, and the shine had left her eyes. Her lips, though, were still red, now the crimson of blood.



She must have seen the shock in my eyes. "Fighting Chaos leaves us broken," was all she said, as though that were the explaination.



"Now, daughter, what is it you want of me?"

My temporary pity was gone instantly. "Why are you doing this? To Uyne, of all people! She's one of your most faithful!" Angry tears fell down my cheeks, the salt burning my skin, terrorizing tender flesh. "Why are you doing this to us? Why are you making my people suffer?"

"Don't you *dare* believe that we are the ones doing this to you, mortal." The Goddess's voice was full of rage. "It is not our fault that our sister is trying to destroy us all. And before you say anything else, know that many of your people are aiding her!" Her voice quieted. "Those blood traitors shall suffer in the worst depths of the Black God's realm when this is done."

My people? Helping this monstress? *How?*



It was silent for several minutes. The full moon shone overhead with a calm, serene light. The night breeze rustled the tree's leaves, as crickets sang a symphony to the stars. Beauty and peace surrounded me.



Irony runs rampant in the world.



Minutes, hours, who knew how much time passed as this betrayel sank into my mind?



*My people are doing this.*



*They helped this happen.*

*They cause this pain.*

*They are helping this creature destroy the world. They will kill us all.*



And at that moment, hatred for them overwhelmed my idiotic, self-righteous hatred of murder.



*I will kill them.*



*Destroy lest we be destroyed.*



Any thought of what I might give up-- my innocence, my joy in living, my life itself--didn't cross my mind.



I dried my tears, straightened my shoulders, and turned to meet my fate with open arms. And thus I died.

*Fallen angels at my feet

Whispered voices at my ear

Death before my eyes,

Lying next to me I fear

She beckons me shall I give in

Upon my end shall I begin

Forsaking all I've fallen for

I rise to meet the end*

A/N: Hey, I'm back. Sorry it's so short. It is, however, pivotal to the plot. I might add to it later. Lyrics from Whisper by Evanesence, off the Fallen CD.