Thanks to all you reviewers! I'm really surprised how much people like Nyhl, really. Thanks for all the encouragement!

There's a link on my profile page to my DeviantArt account, where you can see more of my characters; I do understand, however, if you're scared that my artistic incompetence will ruin your established imageries associated with the characters. XD

Here goes, then. And do forgive me… one can only take so much gore-writing before one's mind becomes irreversibly tainted. I'm not ready for that yet. Or I'm just too incompetent to hack it. Whatever.

Disclaimer: Diablo is not mine. I am not commissioned for this work… I'm not commissioned for any of the stuff that takes up my "study" time and ends up as procrastination, really.


Chapter 25

Abstract Acquaintance


"You don't seem to be getting on so well with people, these days." I said to Oread as we walked from Nyhl's room.

"'These days'?" Oread exclaimed. "What makes you say that? Have I changed?"

"No, it's just that you seem a lot more… hyped up, lately." I chose my words carefully.

"I need to do that to be able to counter Natalya." Oread replied after a moment of thought.

"What about Nyhl? You're still going to beat him up after he heals?"

"He used Falcon's body, Celadon."

"I'm sure Falcon wouldn't like it if you're gonna hold a grudge against a stranger for her sake." I turned to Oread, and looked into her eyes, trying to read her. There was no anger that I could see. "Oread… you're not really gonna beat him up, are you?"

Oread shot me a look, and then looked away immediately. Too late; I already caught that glimpse of uneasiness in the slight shift of her brows, the quick dart of her eyes. "You're not." I smiled triumphantly.

"It'd be too much of a hassle anyway." Oread's words were spoken a little too quickly. "Besides, he's not like Natalya; he seemed to have understood me well enough just by words."

"So… you're friendly with him now?"

"In any case, he's still stuck in bed."

"You mean you're gonna let him join us once he's recovered."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Celadon." Oread glanced at me grumpily, but there was none of the fearsomeness that I had seen before. I smiled even more widely and Oread thwacked me softly on my head. "You've gotten cheekier, haven't you? Has Natalya rubbed off on you?"

"No, I've just gotten a lot less…" I tried to find the right words. "Scared of you, that's all."

"That sounds like a bad thing."

"Not necessarily so." I could not stop the grin that was continuously widening on my face. "You feel more like my third elder sister now; you used to feel like my eldest sister."

Oread turned to me, confusion and childlike-disappointment written across her face. "I didn't know you had siblings."

"Well, everyone in the Sisterhood call each another 'sisters', anyway." The glorious days of the Rogues loomed into my memory; it was a pleasant thought. "From what I know my mother left my three blood brothers with my father when she joined the Sisterhood. She brought my four blood sisters with her, and was pregnant with me."

"Goodness." Oread tilted her head back and said exasperatedly. "How many children did you mother have?"

"My mother was a chaste woman, Oread. There were eight of us." This was no more than a blurry acknowledgement. I had no distinct memory of my blood family… it just seemed like a petty matter amongst the big family of the Sisterhood.

"So what were your sisters like?" Oread looked at me again. She was genuinely interested; it was probably the first time I had seen her care about me in such a way. "I think I deserve to know the ones you compared me to."

"My eldest sister was a tough warrior. I heard that before the Monastery fell, she was a Captain, like Kashya." I tried hard to remember, taking care not to mix people up. "My second sister… I can't remember much about her. She was a sickly person and she passed away when I was maybe three or four."

I thought of my third sister, and a warm feeling welled up into my chest. I felt myself beam brightly. "My third sister was a scholar. She's watched over me and taught me many things since my mother and eldest sister were lost amongst the chaos of the Monastery. She only passed away three years ago… some freak accident that happened at the river. I'm not sure if she was attacked or something, but apparently she broke her neck, and that was it."

"Wow." Oread was contemplative. "And your fourth sister?"

"Me and her… we've never really gotten along, but you might have seen her around. She didn't get along with my mother either; she calls herself 'Flavie'."

"Oh yeah, I remember her. The guard near the walls bordering the wilder lands, right? She pretty much made me go into that horrid, stinking hole and clean it out."

I was shocked. "She did? She's supposed to warn you –"

"She told me to turn back before I get killed in that place. It's got such a corny name too… 'Den of the Devils' or something? Anyway, her voice and attitude pissed me off, so I went ahead and kicked the crap out of that place… It was kind of fun."

Now Oread felt like Flavie. "Well… anyhow, that's it for me." Seeing that Oread was in a good mood, I risked it as we strolled about along the boardwalks. "Is it your turn to be storyteller, Oread?"

"What?" Her eyes shifted to me, and a hint of iciness returned. I was silenced and about to dismiss the topic, but she went on before me. "I don't have your kind of memory, Celadon. I think the furthest back I can remember is… when I'm about, say… seven."

"That's… sorry, but I must say that's, um, pretty bad." I stuttered a bit in my growing discomfort; Oread was reassuming her colder self, little by little.

"Yeah; I used to think that everyone was like that, until Naiad started talking about her stories with Nereid, of when they were about four or five."

I stared, then shook my head. "Sorry… who?" Oread must be in a reminiscing trance or something. I was somewhat confused.

"My younger sister, Naiad." She seemed to chant the words, while looking blankly ahead.

It clicked; she was the one Oread associated me with. It all fell into place then. This journey, all the suffering she had gone through, she had done so with her sister in her mind. I remembered the difficult trip to Lut Gholein, the way she uttered the name in her feverish nightmares.

"– Nereid was her childhood friend; she was Alseid's little sister. You remember Alseid?" Oread paid no heed to my silence; that or she was trying to move the conversation elsewhere. "The one we saw at the Monastery Cathedral?"

"Oh, oh! Yes." I was snapped back to the present. "Yes, I remember her."

Then there was a long moment of awkwardness. I opened my mouth several times, wanting to know more about my master's history; but the time for that had passed. Oread was sealed up again, in a thick, dark chill that engulfed her being, like the usual deep-indigo aura of hers.

Then there was the crimson aura, the terribly beautiful power that I sensed from my master in those few incidences. A stark contrast – this energy seared and burned like red-hot iron on the skin, releasing thick metallic fumes that seeped through every pore of her.

I was still scared of Oread. I would for a long time to come.


On the trip upon which we found the brain of Khalim, we also came across a shipwreck that seemed to have been forced ashore violently. That was after we found the bodies.

There were bloody remains that were clearly human scattered all across the shores that bordered what was known as the Flayer Jungle. The bloodstains revealed that they were only a few days old. How many perished we could not tell, for the bodies were ripped up and the entrails scattered throughout the shoreline as monsters feasted upon them.

I thought I had gotten used to the gore by now, but the humid and hot weather, with the stuffy atmosphere of the place, and the painful wounds from battling the local monsters added up and made me gag quite a few times as Oread tried to find objects of value on the dismembered cadavers. When she nudged some bloody dark-grey mass with the toe of her boot, the thin film on its surface fell apart and dark blood poured out with some brownish-yellow lumps. The smells of vicious decay and vomit wafted about.

That was beyond my limit and I threw up over it, emptying my stomach of my breakfast, and from the way my insides ached, it felt like my intestines had given up on my dinner from the previous night as well. Tears stung my eyes as nausea washed over me, and my legs grew numb.

"Whoa, Celadon!" Oread's hand fastened around my upper arm. "You okay?"

"This is disgusting." I spat out the foul mixture of stomach acid and bile from my mouth.

"Human guts just has a different… aroma to demons' ones, don't you think?" Oread grinned; obviously I was embarrassing myself.

I groaned. "You're not helping." I shook my head and my eyes cleared a little. "So you think these were Nyhl's companions?"

"Well, he couldn't have made it from much further than here, the way he's torn up." We had walked back to the shipwreck, and Oread picked up a blood-stained and torn parchment. "Necromanic language." She pointed at a few runes.

"How'd you know that?"

Oread shrugged. "I've seen it before."

A moment of the burning crimson jolted, but it was soon gone.

"We should bring this stuff back." Oread tried to heave a few packs out of the shattered remains of the ship, but she grunted softly as her battle-beaten body suggested otherwise "Let's go and get someone – oh, what have we here?"

She picked up something half-buried in the blood-darkened sand that glinted as it caught the sunlight. She dusted it off, stared at it for a second, then turned to me with a devious grin.

"You've seen through me – I'm not gonna beat him up; but do you think these are his?"

I looked between her eyes, her smirk and her hand a good few times, and then it occurred to me.

"Master Oread, you are so mean."


"Please give them to me, Oread." Nyhl commanded sternly.

"These aren't for reading, are they?" Oread giggled.

Yes. My master. Giggled.

I had, up to that point, never heard her giggle like that. She sounded so childishly amused; it was simply absurd to hear that sound coming from someone like her.

Nyhl had gone through the load that we brought back, and had elected all the gold pieces, some clothes, a sword, a dagger, an ornamental-looking jewelled skull, and something that he had quickly slipped into his pocket. After that he looked at loss; he looked so miserable that I told him about Oread's mischief.

He then insisted that I get him out and after Oread, who was with Asheara, waiting at the Iron Wolves' residency, where tables and chairs and a small bar were provided for social functions, for Leaf to finish her daily tuition with Cain.

"I was born near-sighted." Nyhl's tone was low and admonitory, but he lacked substantial volume. Not that I blamed him; he had exerted himself from getting here.

"From the way these look to me, you must be blind." Oread stated with feigned thoughtfulness. Nyhl dropped his head onto the wooden table with a rather solid impact that must be painful. Some of his long hair draped onto the table – his raven-black hair was parted on the right with bangs long enough to cover his brows, and longer chin-length ones at the sides. The rest of his hair reached the middle of his back. I did not notice how long it was until then; he had it tied back in a low ponytail when we found him.

He seemed defeated by Oread's humour, but he kept his left arm out, palm up, in the hope that her amusement may cease.

"All right, Oread; don't you think you've tormented him enough?" Said Asheara, fulfilling her position as the voice of reason – though she wore a grin all through the teasing.

Oread made a pout and held out the pair of spectacles. "Here you go." She dangled them in front of Nyhl, who turned his face up and, using his working left hand, snatched them from Oread.

He still had his head on the table in a lethargic posture. "Thanks." He muttered, and tucked his hand with the spectacles away from view as he somewhat huddled up a little. "What?" He asked in a disgruntled tone when he realised that Oread was still gawking at him and had not sat back.

"Put them on." Oread suggested, beaming with anticipation. "I wiped them clean for you. Go on."

Nyhl sighed. Sitting up a little, he flipped the arms of the spectacles open and with a swift, practiced movement, slipped the spectacles into precise position.

Oread stared, then she snorted, and then she burst into giggles again.

This was beginning to freak me out. Nyhl did look somewhat less boyish now, his eyes having been a little reduced in size by the lenses, but I did not understand why Oread was so hysterical about it. Nyhl just sighed again, and put his head onto the table.

"Go easy on him, Oread." Asheara's amusement in her tone had died down a bit. "It's only been two days since he woke."

"Why are we here, anyway?" Nyhl asked, turning his head a little to look at me. "Apart from Oread's fun on my behalf, that is."

"We're waiting for Leaf." I answered before Oread could. "We thought it'd be interesting for you to meet her."

Just then, the door was pushed open softly. "And here she is!" Asheara beamed and walked up to the small child, holding the door open for her as she struggled with a large tome and a small file of parchments in her hands. She was dressed in a plain dark-blue robe today, accentuating the redness of her maroon eyes and the golden strands amongst the straight dark brown hair of hers, worn out as usual.

Nyhl's head was off the table, and his eyes were wide and fixated upon the girl. Leaf, in turn, looked straight at Nyhl, her young face expressionless.

"She's mute and deaf, but she can lip-read very well." Oread seemed glad to see such a scene, and she spoke the words with pride. "You can just speak to her normally."

"Come here." I smiled and gestured for Leaf to come over. She smiled back and strode over quickly, put the heavy tome onto the table and sat onto my lap after seeking permission with her eyes – there were only fours chairs at the table. I faced her. "Leaf, this is Nyhl."

Leaf turned to Nyhl and stared for a bit before nodding in greeting, accompanying that with a smile.

"Uh… Nice to meet you." Nyhl took his eyes off the girl and stared at the embellished cover of the tome instead, and then they shifted back to Leaf. "Where did you come from?"

Leaf opened the file that she was holding and revealed a tiny jar of ink and a small quill. She shuffled the parchments, found a piece with scratched-out scribbles, turned it over and wrote:

Flaw of the Jewel.

Nyhl looked confused, and I took up the position of interpreter. "We found her in the Harems of Lut Gholein's Palace. That place had been overtaken by demons." I was somewhat shocked myself; I did not expect Leaf to write in such a manner… like riddles.

May I return the inquiry? Wrote Leaf.

"I'm from the southern marshlands." Nyhl was feigning ease. "My people had lived there for centuries –"

Why are you here, apart from you kin, Master Necromancer?

"I'm on an assignment… apparently." His last word dropped off a little. "Wait – you knew I'm a Necromancer?"

Spirit blued by the aroma of souls. Such is exposed to the eye.

Nyhl was visibly shocked. By the lack of response from the other two, so were they.

"Wow, passive Inner Sight." Oread whistled. "I didn't know you could do that, Leaf!"

Leaf turned towards Oread, her eyes boring right through my master, then she returned to her parchment; her hand moved more quickly over the parchment this time.

Nyhl Blue from souls
Celadon Jade by fidelity
Falcon Gold with pride
Oread Crimson of impurity

I must have panicked and clenched my hands that were about Leaf's waist; she flinched and her hand rubbed over the parchment as she reached for my hand, smudging the still-wet ink that had newly formed the words.

"Sorry, Leaf!" I apologised with genuine sincerity as the child looked at me, pouting begrudgingly. "I guess we should get something to eat now and let Nyhl head back. You're exhausted, aren't you?"

"Yes, quite so." Nyhl replied absently. Asheara had stood up briskly and gone off, probably to find some dinner that we can take with us so she could get rid of this awkward situation as quickly as possible. Oread cocked her head a little, but did not say anything.

Oread was sitting to my right, and Leaf wrote with her right hand, so Oread might not have read the words. I did not know how well Nyhl could read upside-down, but from the contemplative, cloudy look in his eyes, he read well enough.

Suddenly I forgot the times that I had held her tight in her sleep to heal her trauma, the times that I had taken her to the markets to show her the wonderful scopes of colours and music, the times that I had let her show me the legends she heard from Cain with enthusiasm and animation.

She was an entrancing terror born from the union of Earth and Hell. Her colourless aura allows her to see others' ever more clearly, ever more perceptively.

I helped Nyhl back to his room while Oread went ahead to our own room with Leaf. Nyhl was silent on the way. He thanked me politely before I left. I got out, closed the door and leaned back on it – I needed time to settle down, and to think about how I could get myself to behave normally around Leaf again.

From within the room, there was a low murmur –

"Crimson…"