Chapter 1: The Eye, the Heart, and the Hand
I forgot a disclaimer last time, does that make me a terrible person? I don't own any of it except for Karina and whoever else I invent. And don't worry, Karina won't become a Mary Sue as somebody so charmingly put it. Mary Sues are boring.

Dilandau padded silently through the forest, his feet making no noise on the soft grass. He was close, he was certain of that; he could practically smell his quarry in the air. An arrogant smirk crossed his face as he thought of the other Ziabach units that had been sent off in another direction, following the orders from fools who knew nothing of the intuition and instinct used to track. Nothing of hunting. Dilandau knew everything.

That was why he was here, now, finding the unknown creature that had come with the light. Maybe Strategos will let me kill it this time. Dilandau thought, his hands itching to run something through. It had been quiet the past few months, too quiet, since the end of the war and he was restless. There shouldn't be time to sit and do nothing; there should be time to hear the screams of the fallen, the piteous cries of the dying. That was what he wanted to hear.

Instead, a soft moan reached his sharp ears and his head snapped in its direction. His smile broadened into a gleeful grin. He had found it. Silently, he motioned the rest of his men forward, surrounding the being in a barrier of unbreakable skill and strength. Slowly, without making a sound, Dilandau stepped into the clearing, ducking under a branch and scanning the shadows for his prey. There was nobody there. He looked again; surely he had missed something—and his eyes alighted on a figure sprawled motionless on the ground.

Not just any figure, but a girl, a mere slip of a thing. Dilandau's grin faded abruptly. He had come out in the middle of the night, looking for a creature of amazing power or at least something he could butcher with his blade and all he had found was a stupid girl?

He stalked angrily over to her unconscious form and glared at her.

Wake up, woman. He snapped loudly, breaking the silence with his frigid voice. He wouldn't kill her, not because he had promised Folken he wouldn't, but because it would be no fun. She looked like she had absolutely no spirit, fragile, boring. Where would be the fun in killing somebody who didn't even struggle. Wake up, woman. He repeated.

Deep grey eyes opened and met his crimson ones, confusion and fear showing in their stormy depths. The young woman dragged herself slowly into a sitting position, her brilliant titian hair gleaming in the sliver of moonlight that penetrated the canopy of trees. Stand up, woman. Dilandau demanded roughly, looking down his nose at her in disgust. Why did all the people who landed on his planet have to be small, weak women? You are to come with me.

Karina stared blankly up at the stranger before her, taking in the silver-blond locks, the alabaster skin. He was talking to her, she could see his lips move, hear his voice, telling her to stand up, to come with them. He probably expected her to obey without question because he was her resquer—her head whipped around frantically. Where was the man? He had been standing over her right before, right before... she couldn't remember. Oh god, She thought silently, he didn't... But her clothes were untorn and she felt no pain. She looked back up at the boy before her. If he thought she would obey he had a surprise coming for him.

She replied evenly, none of her shattered nerves betrayed by her voice.

Dilandau arched one silver brow. His voice was so soft it was nearly inaudible, but it carried a venom that would have killed had it been tangible.

I said no. Karina repeated, less confidently this time. There was death in that voice, and as he stepped closer, she could see in the moonlight that there was death in his eyes too. Such eyes. She thought, her gaze locking onto them. Orbs the color of flame, of blood, stared back at her, measuring her up like cattle for the slaughter. They were the color of passion, love, and yet Karina knew that if she looked for a heart in that shell she would find none.

Dilandau broke the gaze first, motioning to his men as he did so. Gatti stepped forward, nodded to his commander, and in one swift motion lifted Karina and swung her over his shoulder. She shrieked as he did so, flailing and kicking and biting in her effort to break free, but the Dragonslayer's were not the elite of the Ziabach army for nothing, and Gatti's grip held firm.

Dilandau chuckled softly at her pitiful attempts to escape, and he let out a peal of loud, maniacal laughter as her head snapped up to glare at him. He didn't care if she heard him—in fact, he rather liked seeing her degraded, helpless, exactly like all his victims were.

Shut the fuck up, you albino man-whore! Karina's mouth snapped shut as soon as she spoke the words, and she knew from the look in the man's eyes that she had screwed up big time. Shit, shit, shit! She cursed herself mentally. She hadn't thought about the consequences, or at all as a matter of fact, just like she always did, letting her temper getting the better of her when she would be far better off shutting up.

What did you just call me? He whispered softly, walking slowly over to her. Between his long fingers he idly twirled a small dagger, the brilliant silver of the blade glimmering in the moonlight. Karina didn't answer, her vocal chords paralyzed with fear. Answer me, He commanded roughly, his patience (what little there ever was of it) diminishing by the second. Still, Karina did not speak and he growled low in his throat, far angrier at the fact that he could not kill her for her insolence than at what she had actually said.

Karina gasped but did not cry out when the back of his gloved fist hit her in the face, nor did she cry when the pain actually registered and the blood trickled down the inside of her mouth. Instead she lay silently over Gatti's shoulder as the other men began walking, following a little ways behind their leader. But though she may have lain silent, her mind was working, thinking, trying to find a way to get away from the psycho and his followers that had abducted her. Her gaze drifted down to the hilt of a small dagger tucked into the soldier's belt, only inches away from her dangling hand, and an idea formed in her mind. Not a very good one, she had to admit, but an idea none the less.

Karina inched her hand slowly to the dagger, trying to look relaxed and docile in case anybody else should chance to look at her. What a dumb place to keep a knife with a captive on your back. She thought to herself, not without amusement, as her nimble fingers continued to make their way toward it. Her fingers closed around the hilt gently, feeling victory in their grasp, and she quickly snuck a peek at the other soldiers. None of them were watching her; she smirked as she realized none of them thought it necessary.

Her grip tightened and she slid the blade out of its sheath, grimacing at the hiss of steel it made as she freed it of its restraint.

Gatti's head whipped around only a moment after Dilandau's did, but they were both too late. The confused soldier began, but before he could finish Karina had gotten behind him and a sharp point was being pressed against his throat.

Come one step closer and I will kill him. She threatened softly, locking eyes with Dilandau. She knew there were other soldiers there, knew that there were others that could kill her too, but the one she was most worried about was right in front of her. And he was worried. Not panicked, but certainly not as comfortable as he had been before. Maybe he actually believed that she would kill him. Not that she would. She couldn't. She could barely stand the feel of his heartbeat pounding against the blade, the heat of the blood in his neck.

Dilandau glared at her for a moment, his eyes pinning her where she stood, and then his face softened and his mouth curved up into his usual smirk. You won't kill him. He taunted her softly, not even bothering to take the knife from her grasp, though he knew he could. You've never killed before and you're not going to start now. It wasn't a question; he knew she wouldn't. If there was one thing he could do it was judge a person's character, and hers didn't have the will in it to kill, or the desire to.

It took all Karina's will power to press the point of the blade farther into the young man's flesh, and she heard his sharp intake of breath as a tiny line of crimson ran down his throat. She said softly, her voice unsteady to say the least. I will.

Dilandau's blood red eyes narrowed, and in one swift movement he had wrenched the knife from her grasp and knocked her out. He didn't catch her as she fell to the ground; he would not lower himself so and actually touch her. Not one of his slayers showed any emotion as to what they thought of the incident, and Gatti lifted his burden once more, ignoring the slight bleeding from his neck, and proceeded to walk toward their guymelefs and the Vione.

Lord Dilandau, Gatti said quietly as they neared their destination. What would you like me to do with the girl? Just as long as he didn't have to kill her. Normally he didn't have a problem with killing innocents, especially not if they were in his way, but she hadn't been in the way, or in anybody's way as far as he could see.

Dilandau didn't even glance over to look at the unconscious girl, and merely shrugged. Throw her in the dungeon. He said nonchalantly; he was bored again. The girl had put up a reasonable fight, but it hadn't been enough to excite him, to stir his blood. And Gatti, He added, as an afterthought. Don't put her near any other prisoners. She needs some alone time. And a small smile crossed his face as his second in command went to do his bidding.