She ran along the boards of the catwalk, running past coughing adults and looking around them or through their legs. She still couldn't find anyone she knew. After searching for hours, she finally gave up and rested against the fence overlooking the seemingly bottomless valley. She sat there for a while, trying to get some sleep.

Her throat caught a fly, and she choked on it, coughing it up. Her hand ran over her chest before it formed a fist and she beat it out of her lungs. Mucus followed, and the coughing continued long after its absence. She wondered if she was catching it...if she was, then it was too late. Already too late...

"Are you alright?" a woman's voice asked.

Fear struck her and then faded. The voice was too gentle, too kind. She looked up and saw what could only be an angel. The woman was draped in white. Light lingered over her, and she absorbed and reflected it.

"I...I was just...Milady I was'a..."

The angel's hand came out, and stroked her head.

"It's alright," said the Maiden Astraea, and wrapped her arms around the little girl. "You'll be safe."

The girl's head turned, and she saw the two imposing figures standing on either side of her. Their helmets stretched out above their heads like the fin of a monster. One was large, but the other was absolutely massive, and at his back was a hammer the same size as his entire upper body.

"Milady, the girl is dirty. She may carry more than just the plague," the smaller figure said.

"Then I will cure myself of whatever else she carries, as well," said the Lady.

Neither of the knights responded to that.

The Little girl looked up at the larger knight as Astraea held her, and asked, "what's your name?"

There was a silence.

"Answer, Garl," Maiden Astraea said.

"My name is Garl of Vinland," he said, immediately.

"Vinland? Where's that?" the girl asked.

"It's southwest of here," said Maiden Astraea. "Near the coast. They have a lot of grapes and churches."

The girl blinked excitedly, "I've never had a grape, before...can you give me a grape?"

Garl cocked his head, "I don't have one with me."

The girl turned back to Astraea and said, accusatory, "I thought you said that people from Vinland had a lot of grapes."

Astraea and Osford laughed, and even Garl joined in with a slow chuckle. The girl didn't seem to understand what was funny.

"What's your name?" Astraea asked.

"Angie!" the girl said.

"That's a beautiful name...what are you doing out here, alone?"

"I'm looking for my mam or pa," the girl said. "Or my brother. Or my friend...or someone. Anyone...I'm really lonely and I'm scared and I don't know where anyone is."

Astraea's brow bent in concern. "I'm sorry," she said. "That's very sad...I hope you find them."

"I hope I do, too...but maybe you're good luck," the girl said, smiling. Too many of her teeth were missing. "Imma keep looking."

Angie ran off, then.

After they watched her go, Osford said, "we should have taken her with us."

Astraea stood up. "No...not where we're going. She's safer here."

"That's comforting," Osford said.

Astraea said nothing else, but kept walking. Garl followed not far behind.

Osford almost had to run to keep up.

–

Ostrava ran after the man who called himself Nameless.

"Wait up!" he yelled. He moved through the darkness as quickly as his armored legs could manage. Once he finally reached him, he stopped, and panted.

Nameless turned, and watched him.

"I need you to not run ahead," Ostrava said, standing up straight. "Regardless...of what you think of my plans, we need to stick together out here."

"Is that why you left Biorr behind?" Nameless asked

Ostrava looked back, then spoke again, "Biorr can take care of himself."

"So can I."

"Yes...but...you have more experience with this. We need you," Ostrava said.

"It's a shame that I won't be helping you afterward, then."

There was a pause between them. Nameless glanced around. No demons in his immediate vision. They may be preparing more ambushes.

"So you really meant that?" Ostrava asked. "You really won't help us?"

"No," he said. "The truth is that I used to fight for others. I learned."

"Well...at least you aren't fading, anymore," Ostrava said.

Nameless cocked his head.

"I mean...your voice. It isn't ethereal like it used to be. Also, you seem to be very conscious. It's like you're waking up."

"Hmm..." Nameless looked away. "It may be slowing down. But no...I'm not waking up. I'm still losing myself, I think...just slower.

There was a short pause.

"You know," Ostrava said. "You're right about one thing: it isn't fair what happened to you."

You think? Thought Nameless, who said nothing.

"Do you remember anything...about before, I mean? Before you came here?"

Nameless glanced down, "I want to say bits and pieces...because that was how it was for a long time...but...those bits and pieces all vanished long ago. There's nothing left of them. Nothing."

"And you're losing more by the day," Ostrava murmured.

"No. By the hour."

"...Really?"

Nameless nodded. "I can feel it, even here. It's like I'm a tower of sand, and tiny pieces of me are constantly blown off by the wind. Every second, something fades that won't be replaced...there's a lot, I guess. More left inside of me than I knew...but it's only a matter of time. That's all it is."

Ostrava shook his head, "that's horrible."

"It is," he said.

"Was there anything you found here that was worth it? I mean...even for a moment."

He thought of Yuria's bleeding body.

"...Once."

"But that's gone?"

"Like everything else."

There was a long silence. Ostrava walked over to the edge of the catwalk and looked over it, into the unfathomable darkness. He removed his helmet, turned, and gave Nameless a glare that captured even him.

"I promise you," he said. "I promise you I'll do whatever it takes to help you. You've suffered enough."

"That's a nice sentiment. There's nothing you can do."

"Then that makes it an easy promise, now doesn't it?" Ostrava said. "But I will find something. I will find anything. You have been fighting this battle long before us, and I have nothing but respect for you, and will do nothing but aid you...so long as you keep fighting it."

"It's too late for that," Nameless said. "Didn't you hear? I already stopped."

"But you're here," Ostrava said.

"...Not for the same reason."

"Does that matter?"

Nameless looked up. Ostrava's eyes seemed too strong to refuse.

An unmistakable, rhythmic clanking could be heard then, and became louder as it approached.

"We'll discuss this later," said Ostrava, and put on his helmet.

Biorr ran out of the black fog, and into their vision.

"If you keep running like that, you'll bring the entire swamp down on us," Nameless said.

"Then don't make me run just to keep up, lad!" Biorr yelled out as he reached them. "Whatever happened to stickin together, eh? Ye'd both get cuffed over the head in basic training."

"Basic training?" Nameless said. "What did the Knight Academy teach you about demons?"

Biorr scratched his head, "Uh...well, nothin I can think of?"

"Right. So do as I do."

They climbed over ladders and catwalks and rickety rope bridges. Every once in a while, they would encounter demons. Mostly, they were no more trouble than normal Dreglings, though their movements were more unpredictable. The biggest threat was the valley itself, as the rotting wood they walked over always seemed prepared to break.

"This isn't too hard," Ostrava said, as he pulled his sword from a Dregling.

"Which means it's going to get worse," Nameless said.

"What?"

"They have the upper hand, here. The fact that we've gotten as far as we have without trouble is inexcusable...they're hoping we'll get cocky."

"Are ye saying that they're sacrificing themselves just to make us complacent?" Biorr said. "That's insane."

"It is...for humans."

They came out into a narrow platform with a rope bridge on both sides. A few narrow planks ot wood connected it to another platform far below, but mostly it was almost suspended in the middle of the valley, and a fall from it would be to the death.

Then they saw the fire.

"Oh no," Nameless said.

"What are you-...oh." Ostrava gulped.

Far ahead, a long column of Dreglings carrying flaming spears was charging forward. The one in back lit the rope of the bridge behind it.

"Go back," Nameless said. "We'll find another way."

"Don't think we can do that..." Biorr murmured.

The others turned and saw what he was looking at. A few of the Dreglings they thought that they had killed stood up, then charged down the opposite bridge.

"Damn it," Ostrava said, and drew his weapon.

"You and Biorr handle the ones in front. I'll take the back by myself," Nameless said.

"By yerself...?"

"You have to deal with fire. I don't."
Biorr nodded with that, it was true. He drew his massive swords, and prepared.

"What about the bridge?" Ostrava asked. "Shouldn't we try to stop the fire?"

"Too late for that," said Nameless, who then saw that a Dregling on his end was cutting the rope bridge, too. "Oh, damn it!"

He charged.

The first Dregling came, holding up its spear like it was jousting. He easily swerved to the side and cut it through the chest. His sword slowed briefly, but pulled through, and severed the tender flesh. The next Dregling lost its massive nose, and was stabbed through the eye. A third had its spear swept aside so hard that a fourth tripped over it and fell from the bridge. The spear carrier looked down, stunned, and had its head lopped off as a reward.

Biorr wasn't even touched by the spears, his swords took on the shape of a heavy steel whirlwind, and one Dregling after another crumpled, its body in pieces. At one point, he saw that one of the flaming spears was sticking out of his body. He hadn't felt it.

Ostrava played backup, and took out anyone who got too close to Biorr. Two Dreglings went down, a third actually managed to stick its spear into the giant knight, but was stunned when there was no result. Ostrava threw it off of the platform.

Finally, Nameless reached the end, where the Dregling was hacking at the rope bridge. He swung his sword, but surprisingly the Dregling put up its spear at just the right moment. The blade was turned away, and hit the rope that the demon had been cutting through.

There was a moment of stunned silence as the bridge creaked...and then it collapsed.

Ostrava turned just in time to see Nameless and a handful of Dreglings grabbing a thin air as the rope bridge they stood on fell apart into scattered wooden boards. They dropped into the darkness. The Dreglings screamed, but Nameless just fell, with the silence of a man who has already died a thousand times.

Meanwhile, Biorr was still holding off Dreglings, but the bridge on his side was burning.

"Biorr!" Ostrava yelled.

"Uh...yeah?" Biorr yelled as his sword severed a head in two.

"The bridge behind us is gone, we have to cross here!"

"Uh..." Biorr said, looking at the flaming rope bridge in front of them.

"Cross!" Ostrava yelled, with every ounce of Kingly charisma that he could muster.

"Ah, hell," Biorr said, and ran forward. Ostrava charged after him.

A few Dreglings, still on the flaming wreck, readied their spears against Biorr. They hit. It didn't make a difference. The wooden shafts may as well have been put against a steel ox. First they snapped under Biorr's weight, then their owners. He didn't even bother using his swords. Ostrava sprinted after him, and felt the bridge breaking beneath him.

Finally, Biorr reached the end, and turned instinctively. Sure enough, the bridge was collapsing, it broke apart into ash and cinder, and Ostrava, for one moment, was flying through the air. Biorr dropped his swords and caught him by his fingertips

"Umbasa, lad. Yer heavy," the big man grunted, getting a better grip.

"I'm wearing steel platemail," said Ostrava. "I'm surprised you can even hold me."

"Yah, well...Soul Arts, boy," Biorr said, and as if proving his point, yanked Ostrava up onto the platform.

Biorr then glanced side to side.

"Where's the other one?"

Ostrava turned, and looked down into the Valley.

"Really..." Biorr murmured.

"He can't die," Ostrava said. "Let's just...look at it that way, I guess. But we're going the rest of the way alone."

Biorr nodded, then said, "True...I'm not worried about him, though. I'm worried about us."

They moved on. There was no other choice.

–

Nameless hit a lower platform. If he could feel pain, he assumed that it would have hurt. As it was, he was oddly neutral on the prospect of surviving a potential fall to his death. It shouldn't have surprised him. There were too many webs of wooden platforms for him to keep falling for long.

Most of the Dreglings hadn't been so lucky. One of them landed on the same platform that he did, and stood up. He laid there, and played dead just as it and its companions had done before. When it got close, he kicked its feet out from under it, stabbed it, then rolled its body off the platform, into the valley below.

These things really weren't much of a challenge.

He stood up, and found that no part of his body was particularly injured. Just in case, he ingested some moon grass. As he was eating, however, he heard the soft patter of footsteps on wood.

He waited, eating, as it got closer. Then, after he swallowed the last of the moon grass, he said. "You're sneaky...but you do realize: I'm utterly silent. I can hear you because I make no sound."

There was a pause, then a woman's voice, dark and heavy, came from the shadows. "So it's true. You really are just a soul...a being made of ectoplasm and nothing else."

"In my current state: yes," he said. "Now show yourself. I have bad experiences with people hiding in the shadows."

"I'd imagine you do," the voice said. "Yet I have bad experiences with being seen."

"I guess that puts us at a stalemate," he said. "Because I won't talk to you until I see who you are."

"You assume I'm here to talk?" She asked.

"For your sake, I pray you are," he said.

She chuckled, low, and he saw a shifting in the darkness. There was a silhouette, there, something sitting on top of a log. It took him a few seconds to be sure that it was female, because there were hardly any distinguishing marks.

"This must be new to you, threatening people," she said. "Because it sounds like it is."

He froze.

"You're more used to trying to get along with others, aren't you?...You're used to playing nice. But you've finally realized that that doesn't work. So you're trying something new."

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Mephistopheles. And I have been watching you. Since the beginning."

"The beginning...?" he asked.

The shape nodded.

"Since I first came to Boletaria?"

"Before that," the shape said.

"...Before?"

"Yes," said Mephistopheles. "I know who you are."

He took a step toward her, "tell me."

All at once, she was standing on top of the log, her arms crossed. He hadn't seen her move.

"Patience," she said. "Information is not free, and there are many things I would have you do."

"You're really going to hold my identity hostage!?" He cried out.

"Oh come. It's more reasonable than that," she said. "Think of it this way: I have something you want. You are in a position to do something for me. You can't expect me to give away such commodities for free, given the circumstances."

"I could attack you," he said.

Again, she chuckled, and he heard now the cruelty behind the laugh. "You would murder your only chance at finding yourself again. No. Your only option is to say yes, or no."

"To what?"

And then her voice took on a droll, serious tone. "I need you to kill Prince Ariona Allant. You may know him as Ostrava."

"...Really?"

"You won't get this information any other way."

He opened his mouth to object. To curse at her, but could think of nothing to say. He realized that he wanted to be angrier than he was. Instead, he was struck with exuberance at the possibility of remembering. He couldn't feel anything else.

She wants you to kill for her, he tried to remind himself. But it was taken away by a deeper, stronger voice: If I know who I am, I can leave. If I know who I am, I can be that, again. I can turn around, and leave Boletaria behind forever, and rejoin whatever my life was before. This is it. This is my freedom.

"Think of it this way," she said. "The boy is going to die. He won't survive this kingdom in its current state...not with his skills. Not with his attitude. The only difference is that you will be doing it yourself."

"I'll...think about it," he said.

"Good. Unfortunately, I'm relying on you."

"That seems risky."

"Yes, well...you killed my only servant who was a sure thing."

And she slipped away. Gone before he could ask anymore questions.

He stood there for a few seconds, considering, then noticed that there was a ramp up ahead. If he went up it, he'd probably be able to catch Ostrava and Biorr.

Ostrava

He had a lot to consider.

–

"What are you doing?" Garl asked.

Osford turned, and saw him standing there. He looked down at the mule, adorned with his portion of their supplies.

"What does it look like?" spouted Osford.

Garl glared at him, and this time with no helmet to hide it.

"The Maiden is leading us to our deaths," Osford said, turning away, shaking. "Wherever we're going is more dangerous than where we are now? That sounds like madness. That sounds like suicide."

"Desertion of a lord or lady is treason," said Garl.

"And that's your only motivation for being here?" Osford asked.

Garl said nothing. Osford didn't look to see his expression. He knew that if he looked, he might not have the courage to continue.

"I see the way you look at her. Your helmet hides your face...but I can see. I can see how every look that you give her lingers. You think that my actions are forbidden? What about your thoughts, Garl? Astraea is a Saint sworn to purity. To even consider her in that way-"

"-Do you think I chose it?" Garl interrupted.

Osford stopped, but it was too late.

"Do you think that I woke up in the morning, and chose to love her? Do you honestly believe that was how it happened?"

He turned, then, and saw that Garl was sitting down, one of his hands covering his face.

"That's not how it was. Not how it is," Garl said. "It poisoned me. It came like a disease. All that had to happen was for me to acknowledge it...once, for one fleeting instant, and once I realized that it was there the floodgates were opened. There was no caging it again. No hiding it away. And now, all I can pray for is that she won't notice it. That I can hide it better from her than I can from you."

Osford got the feeling that he'd just stumbled into something that he did not want to get involved in. "I'm sorry," he said. "I...I didn't know it was that serious.

"It's fine...but listen," said Garl. "You cannot leave. We are Astraea's only guardians, now, and a Saint cannot embark on any leave without at least two bodyguards. If you go, this entire venture will be delegitimized. We can't afford that."

Osford paused, then looked at the mule again.

"This is your duty," Garl said. "You swore by this."

Osford sighed. "Fine. Just help me unpack."

–

Biorr and Ostrava wandered through the darkness, alone.

"Keep an eye in front of us, I'll watch the back," Ostrava said.

"Uh...lad?" Biorr said, as soon as Ostrava turned.

"What is it, Biorr?"

"We might need to both focus on the front."

Then Ostrava heard the thumping, and felt the wood shaking.

He turned as well, and saw it.

It looked just the same as the Dreglings, but its body was massive, as large as one of the giants of the sixth gate, or perhaps larger. Instead of a knife or a spear, it carried a giant club. As it reached them, it raised it.

"Move!" Ostrava shouted.

And they both did, in opposite directions.

The club came down, and smashed through the rotting wood between them. They looked at eachother.

"I go right and you go left?" Ostrava asked.

"Do we have a choice?" Biorr said.

The monster prepared to swing again.

They charged.

Biorr tried to hit it in the knee, but just as he was about to swing, its club hit him in the side. He was sent flying to the left, and hit the edge of the valley hard. Ostrava managed to hit the other leg, but his sword didn't seem to leave a mark. The giant turned and raised its club again.

Just then, a shape charged out of the darkness and hit the giant's leg full on. The monster tripped, tried to catch itself, but instead toppled, falling onto its back. Ostrava looked up just in time to see that the shape was familiar: Nameless. He jumped onto the creature's body, and ran quickly along its chest. It swung at him, and he dodged under the blow, then brought his sword forward and stabbed it in the face. It spasmed, and then collapsed, its arms falling to its sides.

"You're alive," Ostrava said.

Nameless turned. "You're surprised?"

"I guess I am," he said.

Nameless started to clean off his sword.

"Bloody 'ell. That hit harder than Vallarfax's left hook..." Biorr shambled over toward them.

"Are you alright, Biorr?" Ostrava asked.

Biorr looked at him, blinked, and then laughed hard.

"Have I ever not been alright? I'm more surprised about him," he turned to Nameless. "How'd ye survive?"

"There was a platform beneath us," Nameless said. "I fell to it."

"Alrighty. Well I'm not one for questioning blessings." Biorr said. "Let's get a move on."

Nameless nodded, and stepped off the giant. But then, he stood still and allowed Ostrava to take the lead.

"I thought you said you were more experienced with demons," Ostrava said.

"Oh don't worry, I'll guide you," said Nameless. "But I figure nobility should go first."

Ostrava looked back, and though he couldn't see his expression, he would imagine it to be confused. He then turned, and kept walking. Biorr followed.

Nameless watched them move on, and considered again. He had seen Ostrava in the fight. He'd seen how easy it would be...

Biorr. He thought. Even if I wanted to, Biorr.

But did he want to?

Of course I do. I need my identity. I need-

And then he remembered: "I promise you. I'll do whatever it takes to help you...you've sacrificed enough."

He looked down at his sword.

It had tasted human blood before. It had killed.

He took a deep breath, and allowed himself to realize something: Ostrava was just another human. He was a better one than Yurt, he didn't deserve it as much, but that was all he was. When he looked up again, his companions had already disappeared into the darkness, and he walked quickly to keep up.

Just one more kill. He thought, as he tightened his grip on his sword. If I do this...one more.

Thanks for reading.

Mephistopheles always did know how to cut a deal.