AM: For a good visual of Ili's new haircut, check out Jean Grey in X-men 2. Special thanks to 'Bodies' by Drowning Pool, 'Kill Bill' etc.

Chapter Eleven

Ili quickly strode into her home, dragging the corpse of a young girl behind her. The seventeen-year-old was her latest victim. Ilivarra idly recalled her screams of agony and her cries for mercy, which Ili would never give.

The assassin opened the door to the basement and added her corpse to the growing amount. The lifeless eyes of the bodies seemed to stare at her, but Ili was not perturbed by them. Their apparent staring—and the putrid stench that their forms released—were things that Ili was well used to by then.

The assassin noted that only five of the corpses were victims that she had been specifically ordered to kill. The other bodies were innocents. All part of the plan.

Ilivarra stopped for a moment to look in the mirror. Now that her horrifying mask was gone, it was easy to see her face still quite pretty but for the scar that rested on her right cheek. Her amethyst-colored gaze held nothing short of digust. For her victims, for herself, she did not know. The assassin idly ran her fingers through her hair. She had recently cut it short, the tips reaching just past her earlobes and jutting out at the sides.

She peered down at the mask in her hands. Intricate, fearful designs covered the dark object, like gruesome bloodstains from some demonic rituals. How she despised that mask. It seemed to dominate her, much like Malice's words had when she had refused to kill children on her mission...and the lashing pain she recieved afterwards. Malice had almost killed her that time. And if Ilivarra refused even the barest of details, then she would later die for it. And Ili refused to die, not when she had left so much undone in her wretched life.

The mask provoked thoughts of rage and hatred whenever she wore it. Sometimes, it was as though she were slaughtering the images of Korve, or Guliara, rather than the innocents. But once the kill was over, despair threatened to overwhelm her at the sight of the innocents, the true victims of her bloodlust, the children she had murdered. By the pits of hell, what was wrong with her? Nothing in this life could ever call for such treatment! What few scruples she had dictated that she never kill or intentionally hurt children. Why would she break them? Was the threat of death from Malice's hands that powerful?

Some compelling force took over her when she wore the mask, something that forced her to hunt down and slaughter innocents. Something that shattered her will, her principles. Could it be that her mask had a geas placed upon it while in the care of the Red Sisters?

Ili let out a sigh. She was growing quite tired of this mission, and wanted it to be over as soon as possible.The thought remained as shewalked up the stairs and into the sitting room.

Kill.

Ili stopped in her tracks. The emotions she felt had returned, but they had remained feelings, and never words.

Stop.

Ili braced herself, deeply unnerved by this new development.

Murder! Rend their flesh! Attack! This is wrong! Stop it, Ili!

The voices grew stronger and stronger.

DESTROY THEM ALL! THEY DO NOT DESERVE TO LIVE! NO ONE DOES! NO ONE BUT YOU! NO! HATE THEM! YOU ARE BETTER THAN THAT! TEAR THEM APART! DOMINATE THEM! SHOW MERCY! FEED YOUR RAGE!

Her training as an assassin kicked in, and Ili struggled to steel herself. Slowly, her hands began to shake, and her breathing became rapid and shallow. The sheer volume of them eventually forced Ili to sink to her knees. The assassin bit her lip until she bled, but it was no use. The drow let out a bloodcurdling scream of suffering and clutched her head in pain.

"Shut up!" She shouted. "Shut the hell up!"

COMMAND THEM! USE THE FEAR YOU'VE INSTILLED TO CREATE A NEW ERA OF POWER IN YOUR NAME! ANNIHILATE THEM! THEY ARE NO WHERE NEAR AS STRONG AS YOU! THE WEAK MUST BE ABOLISHED! CARE FOR THEM! IT IS YOUR DUTY AS THE ONE WITH POWER TO PROTECT THOSE WEAKER THAN YOU! STOP THIS! IT IS WRONG! HELP THEM! BUTCHER THEM! DESIST! REJECT THIS! HATE! RIP THEM APART! ASSIST THEM! DEMOLISH! SERVE! HALT! RULE! CONTROL!

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ilivarra roared. The drow screamed, sang, spoke…anything to stop the voices. The volume of her own voice had to overpower the other voices. That seemed to be a hopeless cause.

ATTACK! AID! COMFORT! EXIT! TERMINATE! MANIPULATE! BURN THEM! SHED THEIR BLOOD! BREAK THEIR BONES! FEAST UPON THEIR BEATING HEARTS!

She took a deep breath andbegan to speak. "One. Nothing wrong with me. Two. Nothing wrong with me."

CONQUER! FREEZE! ERADICATE! TEND!

"Three. Nothing wrong with me."

MAIM. DEFEND. END. DEFEAT.

"Four! Nothing wrong with me!"

Create. Massacre. Mother. Defy.

"FIVE! NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!" Ilivarra bellowed.

You're going to get what you deserve.

That was the last phrase the voices said. Ilivarra crawled towards the corner of the room and sat for sometime. All her training was gone as she shivered and shook, desperately trying to regain her composure.

It was then that all of the anxiety set in. Anxiety alone, not fear. She hadn't felt fear in a good decade. Was she doing the right thing? Was her vengeance worth all this bloodshed? Would she even be powerful enough to defeat Korve?

Yes, Ili thought stubbornly. It is worth it. This will only make me stronger. Strong enough to avenge.

Ili suddenly started laughing. The laughter was soon followed by crying. Of course, she was not shedding tears. Only dry hacking noises came out. The drow's nerves were in such a state of turmoil that she found herself incapable of doing anything but howling with laughter and dry sobs.

Eventually, Ili calmed down enough to check her mental shields. They were in good condition.

This was not the first time she had suffered such a breakdown. For the first two weeks after her escape from the coffin, Ili had spent most of her time holding onto her last shred of sanity. Korve's torture had destroyed her mental shields, and had left her in a state that was more primal than anything else.

Ili found herself unable stop the memories from flooding back.

Ili approached the inn. Anxiety grew in her at the thought of entering. It had been several days since she killed the svirfs, and her energy was returning, but it was accompanied by something else. Indescribable chaos. Every emotion Ili felt was amplified. Simple happiness, sadness, anger, and worry became the greatest joy, the deepest sorrow, all-consuming rage, and severe panic. She could barely control herself, and had lost all of her discipline and ability to repress. The natural chaos that inhibited the drow had been set free, and Ili was fighting a losing battle to regain control.

Terror set in on the drow as she walked inside. The inn was not very crowded, but every cell in her body was alert and screaming with suspicion. They all would hurt her. Just as Korve had. None of them could be trusted. All were potential enemies.

The bartender looked at her, raising his brows at her too-small clothes and wretched appearance but saying nothing. "What can I get you?"

"A room. Now!" Ili replied hastily, her eyes darting wildly about the room.

"Alright. Alright. Keep your pants on."

Rage boiled in Ilivarra's veins. How could he, no, how DARE he say such a thing to her after all she had been through. Blood pounded in her ears and she could feel her heart beating rapidly. He would pay.

Ilivarra snarled before reaching across the bar and snapping his neck. Though the action had been performed with the speed of a lightning bolt, it had seemed like slow motion to the bartender. The last thing he remembered was the drow's eyes. They were a beautiful purple, with the deep, black pupils the only sign of infravision. Those pupils had suddenly turned deep crimson—encircled by the still amethyst iris—as she broke his neck.

The customers stared at Ilivarra in horror. They immediately stood up and pulled out weapons, advancing towards her.

Ilivarra growled a spell on impulse. Violet light poured from her fingers, and the customers screamed as their hearts exploded in their chests.

Exhaustion swept over the drow like a tsunami. Joy at her returned magic followed the drowsiness. She had her magic back, and with it, would be able to take her vengeance faster.

Ilivarra frowned when she thought of her magic. Regaining it was excellent, but without her mental shields, she had much difficulty controlling it.

Ilivarra lay on the floor of the inn room, curled around a pillow. She had managed to keep control this time and receive a room. It had been three days, and she found herself incapable of doing anything but attempting to regain control and occasionally slip money under the door to the inquiring innkeeper.

Ili ran her fingers through her disheveled hair. It was now clean, as she had found the strength to bathe earlier that day, but did not possess the sense of order to comb it. Her hands traveled back to the pillow and she began whispering in different languages, her voice cracking with laughter, rage, and dry crying.

"Usstan orn elgg ukta. I will kill him. Voy a matarle." The wizard let out a moan. "Oh gods, I'm cracking up." She had been tortured before many times. But none of it had lasted for six weeks, and it was not the same as when Korve tortured her. Ili was disgusted with herself, with her lack of control. She was a drow, and was supposed to be stronger. But she couldn't help it. Every emotion she had repressed for those weeks had spilled out, and now she was forced to come to terms with them. She couldn't be strong all the time, no matter how desperately she wanted to.

Ili winced as violet light poured from her fingers, setting the pillow on fire but soon dying out. One of her hands turned into an ankheg claw, but soon returned to normal. All throughout the ordeal Ili's eyes rapidly switched back and forth from black to red. She was aware of these changes, but dismissed them as a hallucination, or a side affect of her returning magic.

A cruel laugh echoed throughout the room.

Ili turned around, and saw herself looking at the mercenary she hated so much.

Korve smirked. "I fucked you up pretty well, didn't I, little cunt?" He idly twirled one of his sickles. "You look pretty damn good though. Pretty as a fuckin' picture, even with those scars."

Ili froze.

"Yeah, I left a lot of scars. On your face, your arms, your legs, your ass...yeah, especially your ass. Was it good for you too?"

Ili narrowed her eyes. She shouted a spell and aimed it at Korve, grinning with savage, manic delight as it sped towards him. To her horror he disappeared, the mercenary proving to be only a delusion of her unstable and unbalanced mind.

However, the hole that formed in the wall was not a figment of her imagination. Nor was the innkeeper that swung open the door and screamed, "What the hell happened?"

Ilivarra's fight or flight instincts kicked in, and she fled through the hole. The innkeeper watched in amazement at the agility of the drow as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop, a purple aura of magic crackling about her. Within seconds, she was out of sight, leaving him to ponder the odd guest and the damage she had inflicted.

Ilivarra grit her teeth as she hid in the alley. The aura had left, and with it muchof her terror."I am a pathetic coward." she angrily declared to herself.

It took two weeks for Ilivarra to truly regain some stability.

Ilivarra sat in the corner of the newest inn, shaking all over much like a scared animal. She no longer cried or laughed, only quivered. And even that only happened occasionally. It had been two weeks, and she had slowly been recovering. The process was lengthy, but it seemed to get easier every day. Seconds of control became minutes, and minutes became hours. However, Ili did not trust herself to retain the stability to a satisfying degree. Her emotions had returned to normal as well, but she was subconsciously still frightened by the knowledge that she was not as strong as she always believed she was. Korve had defeated her despite her power as a mage, she was not able to control her impulses, and to top it all off she couldn't stop shaking. But she would fight to take back her strength and courage, no matter how agonizing. After all, what did she have to lose besides her sanity?

Suddenly, she stopped quivering. Ili frowned and looked at her hands, seeing that they were perfectly still and calm. She silently whispered a spell. The ends of her fingers were lit on fire, precisely what she had wanted.

Ili stood up. She knew then that the stability of mind had returned, all due to her stubborn battle to hang onto her sanity. The fear was gone, but Ili would have accepted it if it had stayed. Fear was a necessary part of acquiring courage. She'd known that since she was a child, and had rarely allowed fear to dominate her. Never allowing it to dominate her completely in any matter. Her emotions had changed as well. All she felt was cool collected calm. Her rage, her sorrow, every emotion had become cold, encasing her heart in ice and giving her the strength she wanted. She embraced the cold, knowing that emotions would only impair her goals, but would repair her shields. The drow had finally won, and her mental shield was nearly all repaired.

She put on a confident smile. A smile which reached her amethyst eyes, not a single bit of bright red covering her pupils. "Time to work, Ilivarra."

Ili remembered that when she regained her control, she had started taking drugs and drinking alcohol. Anything to numb her mind and calm her down as she worked on permanently regaining control.

The toll on her emotions was great, but she saw it as a benefit. She no longer felt fear, only cold and hot anger. Sorrow and remorse did not exist. Compassion and empathy were dead.

Control was deeply important to her. Ever since she was a child, she had worked on developing the mental shields she needed to control her power. The last thing she needed was to succumb to the power that ran in the Barrindar family. The psionic power that had corrupted Guliara and some of Ili's sisters.

Ili clenched her teeth. Now was not the time to be reflecting on such matters. My emotional weakness is positively foul, she thought. I have work to do. I will never allow that to happen to me again. I am in charge of my own mind. Not those voices. I am stronger than them. I am in control. I am sane.

Ilivarra stood up, steeling her mind to continue her work. She gritted her teeth and walked towards the door, repressing any of her emotions and thoughts. However, one thought could not be repressed.

You're going to get what you deserve.

All of the voices had joined in that final line, their tone sinister and foreboding. It would not be until years later that Ili realized all four of the voices were warped, twisted versions of her own voice.