Chapter 11

In the past, Kingsport's harbor at night had been a sight to behold from the rooftops. The lights, the cheerful buzzing of life, the enormous and proud ships coming and leaving. Lyndon remembered spending countless hours with Edlin or his children, gazing at it, trying to guess what sorts of silly events might be happening down there, betting on which big ship will land or leave port sooner.

Now it looked depressingly dark and lifeless, yet it wasn't completely abandoned. Lyndon could still make out a few silhouettes rushing about under the weak light of one row of lanterns. The scoundrel's boots were planted firmly on the dark roof tiles of The Ruby Rose, stable as if he was on the flat ground itself. His cat-like agility had always been a great help in his messed up life. Lyndon had to wonder if it was yet another inhuman skill fate had decided to curse him with.

He felt angry. Angry with the world, with his own misfortune, with his former friends, with Rea, with Quiet. Why did the angel have to barge into his life and ruin it?! He had had everything: a group with whom he could travel safely, more money than he had seen in his life so far, a simple normal life not wrecked by crazy mutant powers—!

Lyndon stopped himself with dread. What the hell was he thinking?! Quiet had nothing to do with this whole mess. The scoundrel's life had been falling apart before they ever met, Johanna had been losing it long before that trip to the Realm of Hatred.

Not today, you son of a bitch, he sent this thought out into the ether as he bridled his emotions yet again.

He was sure the demon got his message.

Still, his sudden anger did bring up an unwanted subject in himself. Namely, these powers of his: his foresight, that sudden strength with what he had lifted Meshif up from the ground, and… and now teleportation. There, he said it. Were they a curse? A blessing? Perhaps both? The more he dwelled on them, the more he felt alone. He had lived his whole life thinking that he was normal, but that knowledge no longer held any truth. The revelation left him disoriented and afraid. What did it all mean regarding his future? Will some sort of extra responsibility be thrusted upon him, simply because he was different? Will he be able to stay among other, normal humans (if he lives that long, that is), or will he be forced out? After all, most people with unnatural powers banded in secluded groups, like the sorceresses, the druids or the necromancers. Lyndon knew he would not be able to bear that fate. He needed the buzzing of life around him, opportunities to grab and obnoxious nobles to annoy, in order to function properly.

Most importantly: was he a Nephalem as well?

Deckard Cain did mention something that with the destruction of the Worldstone (whatever the heck that was), it was now possible for Nephalem to be born, or to "rediscover" their potential.

Lyndon gazed over the harbor as something big and dark appeared over the horizon. He did not want to be a Nephalem. He did not want to be special. He just wanted to be a normal, everyday thief who helped saved the world however he could, but never was in the center of attention. The shadows were his element, not the spotlight. Especially not now, that even his womanizer ways were pretty much over.

Lyndon watched as the Albatross, battered and barely sea-worthy landed in port. People rushed about the ship, no doubt being stunned by its miserable shape. The captain had been right: it truly was a fine ship, if it was able to stay afloat after the attack.

Oh, how Lyndon wished he could go back to his old days, when nobody expected anything of him, when the most he had to worry about was keeping a low profile around city guards and some ex-girlfriends. Back when his life was simple and on track (even if not perfect), and he knew where and why he was going. Now, nothing was for certain, and he felt like everyone was expecting some sort of miracle from him. As if he could do anything that would make a difference. What a joke.

Something huge tumbled from the main deck of the ship onto the landing stage. It had an odd shape, and from the distance, Lyndon needed some time to decipher what he was seeing. Eventually, he succeeded, though.

It was the decapitated head of the sea monster.

Lyndon took a deep breath, turned away and carefully climbed off of the roof, landing on the cobblestone street. He began walking, his steps eventually growing firm, his direction certain and unwavering. He felt his anger turning into something that no doubt pissed off the demon like nothing else: determination.

He couldn't do a thing to make a difference. But damn it all to Hell if he wasn't going to try.

oooOOOooo

There was another riot deep within Kingsport. For what reason, against whom, there was no way to tell. Not that it mattered. Buildings got destroyed, people got hurt or killed, that was the whole point of it. That's why the demon sparked it in the first place.

Lyndon didn't know who or where this monster even was, or if he could do anything against it. First, he had other business to attend to. He owed Seven that much after their sacrifice.

As he marched ever forward, he felt himself get detached from everything, even though chaos ruled around him. People screamed curses at each other or into the ether, they vandalized their surroundings with no rhyme or reason. Some houses were set on fire. Groups were beginning to form, turning against each other over literally nothing. Tools, bottles and makeshift weapons were waved around or even thrown, but nothing touched Lyndon. He didn't even spare a single glance at them, merely ducked out of the way when necessary. Not once did his step waver, no matter what happened around him. People got out of his way, looking for other targets rather.

- Demon eyes! – one homeless beggar hag yelled, pointing a crooked finger at him.

Lyndon flashed his gaze at her and she shied away, hissing like an exorcised specter.

A group of four pikemen came his way. They were busy with the crowd, their weapons brandished to shed blood tonight. One of them stabbed a woman to death, then turned his attention to the scoundrel and charged, shouting something about violations of curfew. Lyndon side-stepped the strike with ease, he wove his arms around the pike and yanked it out of the soldier's hands. Before the man could react, Lyndon spun the weapon around and stabbed him straight through his chest, as if his armor plate was thin air. The guard tumbled to the ground, his comrades quickly distancing themselves from the scoundrel who kept on walking as if nothing happened.

He passed by a window that hasn't been smashed in yet. In the light of a nearby burning building, he thought he saw his reflection with blazing bright green eyes. It may have been the flames playing tricks, but he somehow doubted that. Still, the sight was not enough to make him falter or even slow down.

Lyndon stubbornly hung onto his determination as he took a turn, and finally stopped before a few steps of stairs, leading up to a once proud building. He stared at the entrance, its every little crook and detail bringing back memories.

With a deep breath, Lyndon kicked in the door and stepped inside Edlin's former home.

oooOOOooo

Quiet woke.

He had dreamt with fear and doubt, once familiar voices accusing him of being foolish and blind. They had feared him, feared what he would do. Why? What did he do? Why did he deserve so much hate? Waking up brought a temporary relief from the nightmare, but it was quickly replaced by a new source of worry.

Leendonn was not there with him.

Quiet looked around, but couldn't make out the silhouette of his friend in the dark room. Instead of panicking, however, he tried to collect himself. He knew he could be strong, and he knew Leendonn was strong too. His friend probably left to do something. All Quiet had to do was find him.

He climbed out of bed, a bit reluctant to leave the comfortable warmth behind. Seeing his clothes hanging from something tall, he ordered that thing to lean down and let him take them. Remembering how he wore them, this time he easily pulled the tunic over his head and the trousers onto his legs. He liked these clothes, if he had to be honest with himself. They were practical, simple, and didn't get in the way. With the cape he struggled a bit, but eventually managed to get it right as well. Pulling the hood deep in his eyes, he looked around for an exit.

The window was ajar, perfect!

Climbing up onto the jamb with some difficulty, he pushed the wings open and stared down at the ground that was way, waaay below him. Well not for long, Quiet decided and he asked it nicely to rise in a spot and let him climb atop it. Riding that makeshift elevator to the backyard, he hoped off, closed his eyes, and tried to find Leendonn with his senses. At first, they didn't want to comply easily. Eventually, a familiar feeling reached him: huumanns, countless of them were rushing about on the streets, although their bustling now did not fill him with happiness like it did in that place with the many shiny things. Instead, he felt anger coming from them, anger that although helped sharpening his senses, also made him worry for Leendonn. Was he alright out there? Only one way to find out.

Quiet walked out of the backyard, asking the stone fence before him to move out of the way for the second. He looked around uncertainly, then took a random guess and went in that direction. The houses here were incredibly tall and close to each other, as if they wanted to cuddle together. Quiet could understand that: it did feel very nice to snuggle close to someone you trusted. His senses kept opening wider, he could now make out the many pair of legs pounding on the pavement, the shockwaves they sent through the ground. One pair of boots stood out of the crowd: their steps were orderly and rhythmical. Quiet somehow knew that was Leendonn. He was pretty far away, the angel would have to hurry to catch up to him.

There was something else: Quiet could feel, now clearer than ever, the demonic aura. It was like an ugly glowing red spider web, weaving around everything, growing thicker with each passing moment. This demon was large and powerful. Quiet was afraid of him, but his fear wasn't strong enough to stop him on his tracks. He needed to find Leendonn, together they could beat this monster if he tried anything!

Quiet hurried on his way, occasionally passing through building interiors when one got in the way and he asked its walls to let him through. Sometimes he saw glimpses of fire and a crowd of huumanns on the main street not too far from him. He frowned, asking the flames on one building to stop burning. What was the point of this? Is this how huumanns behaved when they were scared, like Leendonn had said? How did setting a building on fire help? Did they think it would scare the demon away? Quiet couldn't be really sure, but he felt like demons actually liked fire… or at least weren't afraid of it.

He wandered between the large houses for what seemed like hours, following Leendonn's trail. Eventually, he stumbled upon yet another stone fence. Humans really did like those things, huh? Getting past that, Quiet noted the strange place he found himself in. It was a big open area, with a strangely shaped stone building on one end, that had a tall tower with a pointy roof on its front. There were paved paths running in different directions, crisscrossing each other, but most of the ground was covered in grass. And what was up with those strangely shaped stones sticking out of the ground? They looked like slabs, but a couple of them had other forms. Quiet uncertainly wandered up to one, wishing he could read the signs on it. In the distance there were a few smaller nice buildings, surrounded by these stones as well. Some of the slabs had candles around it.

Was this a park? A garden? Weren't gardens supposed to be nice? This place was not very nice, to be honest. It looked grey and ugly… sad, even.

Quiet quickly decided he would ask Leendonn about it when he would catch up to him. He began scuttling around one of the paths, locating his friend yet again. Strange, Leendonn didn't seem to be moving right now.

- Wait… I sense something.

The deep powerful voice, coming from one of the nicer small buildings, stopped Quiet dead on his tracks. A sharp stab of fear grabbed a hold of him and he dove behind one of the bigger slabs, not even thinking. He couldn't see but heard and felt the large metal door flung open and large, wide paws pounding on the ground. Nostrils sucked in the air loudly. Muscles tensed under the skin as they made the body move around. The demonic aura suddenly grew thick, nearly choking Quiet. The little angel covered his mouth with his hands, trembling uncontrollably against the stone. Every instinct of his screamed at him to run, but he couldn't make his legs move.

The stone slab suddenly exploded into his back, sending him flying and smacking hard into a nearby tree, cutting his screech short. Quiet tumbled to the ground in a painful heap, forcing his eyes to open.

- An angel, here?

The demon stood some meters away from him, and he was absolutely hideous. He towered over Quiet like a mountain, standing on four clawed legs. His back was hunched and covered in short red fur that turned into a shaggy mane around his neck. His head was long, his mouth filled with teeth, horns sprouting from behind his pointy ears. Two wide nostrils sucked in the air with an audible snort, dead white eyes glimmered in the dark. His mane looked like there were small fires smoldering in it occasionally, and he had two long, serpentine tails, quite literally: they both had snake heads on their ends, hissing angrily.

- What in the Burning Hells are you supposed to be? – the monster stared at his foe. – Did angels become even more pathetic over the eons? I thought that was impossible.

Quiet didn't exactly understand every word, but the voice itself sent shivers down his spine. He struggled to his feet and ran, screaming in alarm.

He could feel the monster pounding after him with ease, laughing with glee.

oooOOOooo

It took quite an amount of willpower just to stand in the main hall of the house.

Lyndon couldn't find a spot to look at without being reminded of something. The dust-filled carpet was the very same one on which Maya once accidentally slipped while they were playing tag, and she ended up slamming into the railings of the stairs. Rea freaked out, but the little girl just laughed it off and kept on running, with one milk-tooth less.

The oil lantern mounted on the wall still stood a bit crooked, after Eric had tried to hang from it, playing that he was a monkey.

Edlin's city guard armor was displayed proudly against a wall.

Lyndon could almost believe he came home. Only, there was no one here now, the house was dead.

- Maya? Eric? – he called out, hoping the children would hear.

Maybe there were simply asleep… Yeah, that was it.

It's not that.

Lyndon forcefully cut that thought short. He uncertainly wandered deeper in the building, hearing nothing. He glanced into side rooms, noting how everything was covered thickly in dust and spider webs. The kitchen looked like the only place that had been used not long ago. It was still dark and damp, but there was relatively fresh meat of some kind on the counter, cut to pieces. A large pot of water was placed over the fireplace, knives, spoons, and a few bones littered everywhere. Lyndon quickly pulled out of the room, moving on, refusing to acknowledge that one of them looked like a human shin bone.

He walked by another room, which revealed an entire mountain of gold coins. Around it, leather bags were thrown around, each emptied into the pile. Lyndon stared at the treasure, heart sinking. This was the money he had sent to Edlin's family, to help them get by. But it looked like not a single dime had been touched here. A whimper called his attention and he entered the dark room, looking for its source. The last thing he expected to find was a treasure goblin chained to a wall with a collar, just out of reach from the money pile. Lyndon stared at the miserable little creature as it tried to crawl towards the treasure. He had killed many of these little wretches during his adventures with Johanna, and the amount of value they carried had always amazed him. These ugly little creeps must have had immense physical strength to drag their load with them, which might have explained the occasional runes flashing up on the collar, no doubt stopping the goblin from just yanking it out of the wall.

Lyndon truly hated these things since they were always a nightmare to chase down and kill before they could escape through their unique golden portal. But right there and then, as he saw that miserable little welp chained down against his will, clearly beaten, and without a single dime to call his own, he just couldn't bring himself to look at it with disdain. With a loud sigh, he walked up to the creature that screeched in alarm and tried to scuttle away from him, into the wall. From up close Lyndon noticed that its horn was white instead of the usual bluish tone, and this white spot also ran down on the whole length of its nose, making it look like it wore some kind of war paint.

- Hey, it is alright – Lyndon crouched down before the trembling goblin.

He flashed the dagger and shattered the chain. The treasure goblin cried in terror, curling up into a ball, no doubt awaiting the finishing blow. When that did not come, it slowly realized that it was free. Lyndon stood up and backed away from the creature, sheathing his dagger.

- Go now. Take it – he gestured at the money pile. – Wherever you may take it, it will be used for more than here.

The goblin blinked at the treasure. Then at Lyndon. He took an uncertain step towards the money pile, keeping one eye on the scoundrel to see if he would attack. But Lyndon was already walking out of the room.

- Get out of here – he called over his shoulder, stepping over the doorstep.

He could hear the well-known, excited shout from behind him.

Gulping, he moved on, choosing not to question his own unpredictable decision-making as of late. It couldn't have been a good sign, but he just simply didn't have the energy to worry about that.

- She's here – came the deep and malevolent tone from a room ahead.

Lyndon stopped and listened, one hand resting on the dagger in his belt.

- And you wish my help.

Rea.

- I took you up, gave you strength. You are bound to me.

- Of course.

- I shall lure her to the main streets with the most humans. They will help our cause. Go there and prepare yourself. This will be a hard battle.

- You give her too much credit.

- You give her too little, blind mortal. Now—Wait… I sense something.

The talking stopped and steps sounded up in their place. Lyndon remained where he was, not moving to hide somewhere. A few meters beyond, at the end of the corridor, a door opened, and out stepped…

- Lyndon – Rea cooed, not even looking remotely surprised. – So you came back. I wasn't expecting you.

The scoundrel remained silent. The… thing before him had Rea's face and voice, her raven black hair just as perfect as it had ever been. Her skin was still white and fair like porcelain, and her cheeks held a soft blush at all times. Her lips bright red, her eyes the same light blue, almost white, as always.

But beyond her neck, it was not Rea. She wore one of her tattered, torn blue dresses. Her arms both grotesquely huge, the skin turning greyish-blue and scaly on them, the palms as wide as her torso, fingers ending in long iron nails. From under the skirt, her legs were twisted into the clawed paws of some kind of beast, covered in blue scales as well.

- Where are the children? – Lyndon finally found his voice, locking eyes with the monster.

- Do I not even get a proper greeting? – Rea asked innocently, opening her demonic arms into a hug.

Her waist became visible. She wore a dark belt, that had two strange lobes of something sewn onto, one on each side of her hip. Lyndon stared at the rags.

No… no, they weren't rags…

- Rea, where are Maya and Eric?! – he demanded again, pulling out the dagger from his belt. – Where are they?!

- Why, they are right here. Why are you so worried? – Rea answered, grabbing the two rags and stretching them out like wings.

They were dried human skin.

The haze of denial finally shattering, Lyndon lunged forward, weapon held high.


Damn, that's deep shit right there.

Smaller trivia: I based Rea's "monster form" on the folklore of Black Annis/Agnes. It's a British witch, who is most notable for having long iron nails and a taste for human flesh, especially children. She was used to scare kids into obedience, of course. I have poured over many possible female folklore monsters, even considered my favorite hag, Baba Yaga (Slavic folklore) for a brief time, but eventually I felt Black Annis was better for the "occasion".

Anyway, that's all for today's folklore lesson, cupcakes! I actually am planning to use more mythological and folklore references in the future, when the opportunity shall arise. And I shall be happy to drop some more knowledge on ya! See you around, and keep being awesome!

P.S. We do not know how many children Edlin had (only that there are more of them), what their genders or names are. So everything you read here about them is simply my addition and not at all canon. Just to make that clear.

REVIEW ANSWERS:

Guest: I'm both surprised and honored by your opinion. ^^ I personally haven't really intented this story to be heart-warming, but I am so glad it turned out that way (I am a sucker for those stories as well). I know I probably wrecked that opinion with this chapter, and I'm sorry for that, but there will be lots of ups and downs throughout the whole journey, I can promise that much. Thank you for reviewing and I hope I'll see you down the line again. ^^