Yes, I know, one chapter called "Harsh Truths" and another chapter called "The Truth." There's a lot of Truth-related stuff going on here.

I felt like inserting this in the beginning because I wanted the ending to speak for itself. All I mainly wanted to say was this:

In every chapter before this one, I got the Maiden In Black's verbage (IE: Lingereth versus Lingerest) wrong. I may or may not change it later, but for those who are curious: Middle English's verb suffixes are not based on plurality, as I thought. They're actually conjugations based on who is being referred to. For future reference, it is:

I speak
thou speakest
he/she speaketh
we speak
ye speak
they speak.

So that being said, my past chapters are so full of "eth" and "est" that it's embarrassing, and I may change it just on principle. Anyway, enough of these English Major Problems. Enjoy the longest chapter yet. (And so soon after the last one)

As the fog deepened, the world continued to be torn asunder. Time and space, and the boundaries that made them what they were, became inconsistent, and ghosts from slightly different worlds wandered in and out of eachother's realms. Echoes seen in the mist. In a world like this, when and where become inconsistent, and hard to place in their proper categories.

So who is to say that, when three travelers leave a valley and look out upon the swamp below, the three that came before them are not there as well, at the same time? Who is to say that Garl didn't stand next to Nameless, that Astraea didn't stand next to Ostrava? Perhaps only as ghosts, or projections of the past...but who is to say that they weren't there?

Because in both cases, the marsh stretched out before the travelers, with moist and shallow mounds of dirt that barely stood over the water at all, a rainstorm would be enough to drown them. In both cases, they stood, and watched, and in both cases, they were filled with an instinctive forboding of what was to come next. They looked down at the sickly water. They realized that it was poison, and they realized that they had to cross it.

But in Astraea's time, there were not demons. Or, at the very least, there weren't as many of them.

In the time of Nameless, however, they roamed the wet pit below. In fact, the worst part about crossing the marsh would not be the poison itself, but the fact that the water obscured all. Beneath it could be something unspeakably horrific, of which they possessed no knowledge.

"We should go," said Garl, said Biorr.

"...Can we make it?" asked Ostrava, asked Osford.

"We have to," said Garl, said Biorr.

And Astraea and Nameless remained silent, contemplating more than simply the poisoned water below.

"Do they really live here?" Astraea asked. "Can we really force them to keep this as their home?"

They watched a desperate man pull a net out of the sick water. Wrapped in it was a fish that looked like it had been dying long before it tasted air. The man put the fish over a torch, and its flesh burned. He didn't gut it, he was too hungry, he just bit off, chewed, and swallowed.

"...they drink this water," she said, in horrified wonder. "They eat from it...they don't have anything else, so they eat and drink poison."

As they walked down the cliff, they saw a mother sitting on one of the strands of dirt, cradling a child, cooing it with lullabies. Astraea smiled to see some affection in this desolate place, but the corners of her lips lowered again when she realized that the baby wasn't moving. The mother wasn't crying. She had run out of tears.

It all makes sense. Astraea thought. If the world were just, these people would not be here. If life were fair, this would not happen.

It dropped from her wrist, then, and dangled there by its chain. She looked at it as her face whitened, and allowed it to fall from her hand, into the dirt. It was true, she didn't need to look, anymore.

The object stayed there, for what could have been years, decades even, or perhaps moments, before another set of fingers wrapped around it, and pulled it up.

"What are you doing?" Ostrava asked Nameless.

Nameless just glanced at the black object he held in his hand. Some sort of idol? It made sense for people in a place like this to turn to religion, of all things. It wasn't like there was anything else for them.

He looked back up, and saw a different, but no less menacing marsh than Astraea had. Strange, jellyfish-like creatures floated through the water, their tendrils reached for anything foolish enough to approach them. Far off, in the darkness, giants like the one they had fought before wandered through the water, it barely reached their ankles.

They stood on the shore, the dead bodies of a few foolish demons behind them.

"We have to wade through it," Nameless said.

"...it's toxic, lad." Biorr murmured.

Nameless's fist closed around the dark talisman, somehow it felt comfortable in his hand. "That's not going to stop us."

In the darkness of the Nexus, Freke's experiments continued.

When I give it a spark...just a spark of magic, it responds on every pathway...but that's not right. No human soul could respond like that...good lord, it isn't human, anymore. Just by taking these others into itself...just by using the soul arts, it's become interchangeable with a Demon Soul, even though it belonged to a man...there is no difference.

So why are the Demons mindless? Why do they so blindly follow the Old One? More research is needed...more...

He sensed, then, a presence behind him.

"Have I not told you-" he said as he turned, only to see someone he hadn't told anything to.

The Maiden in Black stood there.

He looked down, at the human soul that he was experimenting on, then looked back up at her, whitefaced.

"Milady," he said. "I did not expect you to wander into this place...why, there are no candles, here..."

She just stood. He remembered, then, that she was blind. It was easy to forget, with how powerful he knew she was. Of course she hadn't seen what he was doing. Praise the lord.

"What use is bothering me? Surely you must have found some other way to occupy your time, in all the years that you've been here."

Again, that blind stare, and somehow without her eyes it was all the worse. When someone looked at you, you knew what to expect. The eyes were, after all, the window to the soul. But on her face, he could see nothing recognizable. It was blank, perfectly so, and perfectly unreadable.

"A soul in pain lingereth here," she finally said. "I know it as thee knowest color."

"Milady...!" he said, instinctively covering the energy even though she couldn't see it. "Are you trying to make an accusation? Because I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Thou ist the only man here, so far as I see." she said. "What other cause wouldst thou suggest?"

Freke's mind searched desperately for some kind of excuse, "well...you see, milady...it wasn't too long ago when Yurt went on that killing spree. There are certainly souls in pain all throughout this place. After all, has anyone picked them up? They're probably lingering everywhere. I would recommend that you do that, actually, but please come here last. I'm quite busy, and I'm not prepared for interruptions at the moment."

She was silent for a moment, then said, "what ist thy business?"

"My business...uh..." he pondered longer. "Well, you see, I'm trying to research magic. In fact, this research will help a lot in the effort to slay the demons. Don't you think that your knight could benefit from stronger spells? I do...I certainly do. And unless you don't want him to have this magic, it would be unwise to interrupt me."

She stood there for a few seconds longer, then, finally, turned away. Her face moving away from his seemed delayed, as if she really were glaring at him. But perhaps he simply imagined it.

Damn her, he thought, once she was gone. She lets that psychopath Yurt run rampant, but the moment that I start experimenting, she gets worried over 'pained souls'...it's all because I'm on to her. Yes, yes, that's it. It's all because I know that she's manipulating us all. Well enough of that, then...I'm so close. And once my research is complete, I'll know what to do in order for us to have the power of the soul arts without their consequences. I'll know how to improve humanity forever. I just need to focus...I need to focus...

And with that resolve, Freke went back to experimenting on the soul of the young man who had been his apprentice.

Every footstep was heavy, weighed down by the muck beneath the surface of the water. It didn't help that they could feel the poison leaking in through their pores, feel it clinging to their skin and causing a slight itch before a numb pain started to run across their bodies.

Fights with demons were occasional, but happened. The true enemy, here, was the swamp. And the swamp was vicious. Giant mosquitos flew in steadily, hungering for blood. The jellyfish monsters were just as aggressive as they had appeared, and stretched their arms out into violent blades. Still, these monsters were of little threat...it was the poison. And the sickness.

They had reached the fourth or fifth island when Biorr raised his hand...and then placed it up against his head. When Nameless looked back, he saw beads of sweat running down the big man's face.

"Somebody tell me why I seem to be getting the brunt of this...despite the fact that I'm twice yer sizes..." Biorr murmured.

"You're older," Nameless said, bluntly. "It could be that."

Biorr looked at Nameless, and gave him a dark glare. Probably not the best choice of words for a man who was threatening your life an hour before, but what could Biorr do?

"I'm not feeling well, either," Ostrava said, honestly. "I think...I think it's just you whose fine," he said, pointing to Nameless.

"Well isn't that a coincidence," Biorr said, still glaring.

"Not really," Ostrava coughed heavily. "He got a new body after fighting the leechmonger...we've lost blood, we're already in bad shape...but he's perfectly fine."

"I know, lad. I heard how it works," said Biorr. "I just think it's funny that he's playin the fearless leader when he's got so much less to fear."

Ostrava looked between them, confused.

"You're right," said Nameless. "I do have less to fear. Even if the poison kills me, I'll only be sent back to the Nexus...so, I guess, if you think we should pace ourselves, let me know."

"I think we need to rest, right now," said Biorr, and sat down stubbornly.

Oddly enough, suddenly, Ostrava seemed more upset with Biorr than Nameless. "Are you going to sleep?"

"Lad, it's a poisonous swamp filled with Demons, and we don't even have bedrolls. No rational man is going to-"

"I know a rational man wouldn't," Ostrava interrupted. "I'm asking you if you're going to."

Biorr's eyes turned to Nameless, "trust me, I won't be sleeping."

Nameless just looked away, he knew what Biorr was trying to do, and he wasn't going to let it work. Besides, responding to this situation would just create more pressure, and he didn't need to deal with that, now.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that by letting Ostrava fall, and getting Biorr to hate him, he'd already committed, he had to see this though. But he also felt that the opportunity was gone, and wouldn't be back for a while. It was comfortable to think that way, relatively so at least, because he still had no interest in killing Ostrava...but there it was, that offer. Dangling there. An escape to all of this. A key to go back home, just by knowing what home was.

He sat down, and rested with them.

Perhaps because of Biorr's glaring, they remained almost entirely silent. Biorr passed around a flask. He said that the water would dillute the poison in their bodies. Nameless doubted it, but he went along with it because he needed to get as close to Biorr's good side as he could, with, of course, the understanding that he would never actually get there.

And as they sat without speaking, he looked again at the talisman that he had picked up. And he saw something in it that he had not seen before. When he did, an anxiety shot through his body, a black fear.

"Can I try something?" he asked them.

Biorr didn't seem excited, but Ostrava cut in, "yes."

"Fair enough," Nameless said, and came closer to the prince. Biorr's eyes glared at him, and Nameless could not miss his hand lingering down to the hilt of his sword.

But all that he did was reach up, and hold out the talisman. He closed his eyes, and did as Saint Urbain had taught him: he believed. He brought his faith out into the talisman, focused it there, and when he opened his eyes again he saw a light overtaking Ostrava's body.

"What did he do to you, lad?" Biorr asked, concerned.

"...I...I don't feel the poison, anymore," Osrava said. "You used a miracle, I didn't know that you could do that."

"I can," said Nameless, and looked down at the talisman again.

Faith, and miracles, are soul arts...

"Milady," said Garl, interrupting her thoughts, "are we done, here?"

"...Yes, yes..." she said, and stood up. It was getting harder to stay focused.

"We need to cross the swamp, somehow," he said.

"Garl, we're fine...I can use miracles to heal us."

Garl was confused.

Osford cut in, "but you cannot soil your dress...it's a holy gown, it would not be proper."

Astraea looked at them, her eyes sad, "...I wouldn't be concerned, anymore, about what's proper...and especially not what's holy."

And they watched her as she daintily entered the poison water, her white gown floating up around her, her arms held up. Garl ran after her to protect her, but there was nothing to protect her from, anymore. She was in it up to her knees, and saw no problem with going forward.

Garl followed without hesitation.

Osford sighed, and went along.

They crossed through the awful place, healing themselves as they went. It was dark, darker than it should have been, and even in Astraea's time, the wisps of strange fog floated by through the air. True, it was a swamp...but there was too much fog. More than there should have been. Of course, she was the only one who noticed it, and her companions were more concerned for her safety than the environment around them.

For Nameless, the swamp was black, and even after he and his companions began to walk again, the darkness would not let up.

"Does day ever come, here?" Ostrava asked.

"I think it is day..." murmured Biorr.

"I can't imagine living here," Ostrava said, as they passed by a shanty.

"No disrespect to ye, lad, but I doubt ye ever will," Biorr said.

"...Are you saying that I'm incapable of sympathizing with my own people?" Ostrava said.

"With these people, yes...son, yer a prince. Ye've had everything. These people have nothing...the difference is too much."

"Yes..." Ostrava said, as he looked at the sickly skeleton lying in the hut. Its bones had grown improperly even before its death. Malnourishment during childhood. "I guess it is."

Nameless perked up, suddenly, "what was that?"

"...what?" Ostrava said.

He hushed him.

...they came out of the water at once.

Three giants had been lying down. Somehow, they had managed to cover their entire bodies with the water. Poisonous spray shot out and spattered all over the group's bodies as the monsters looked down at them. A few smaller demon creatures came from the water behind them, and awkwardly charged.

Biorr didn't waste any time, and charged in return, roaring. A giant came forward, and brought his massive club down. It hit the large knight's armor, and snapped against it like a twig.

What!? Nameless watched in disbelief as the upper half of the club fell to the wet ground. That weapon was the size of his entire body, at least.

He realized, then, that Biorr was not a force to be trifled with, and that if he really was watching out for Ostrava, this was going to be more difficult than he'd thought.

Biorr's swords came out, and he charged the giant, who reached out and tried to grab him with only its bare hands remaining. It caught hold of him, but he cut its wrist and it roared as it let go. Black blood sprayed into the water, Biorr fell forward, and landed against the giant's chest. Somehow, he was heavy enough on his own to turn that into a kind of tackle, and it flew to the ground, he ran up its body, and both his swords cut through its neck.

Nameless stepped forward and lopped off the head of one of the charging Dreglings. The other hesitated, stood there for a second as if it suddenly possessed an instinct of self-preservation, then charged as well. He cut it across the stomach, and it grabbed at its spilling innards, then fell.

But the giants came behind them, and before he was prepared, a massive club swung sideways and knocked him off his feet. He fell to the ground, rolled, and was vaguely aware that he was headed toward the water.

No. He thought. I can't let my face touch that poison.

And he fought through the pain to reach out and plant his fingers into the ground. Stretchmarks were left on the dirt as he skidded, but he managed to hold himself in place just on the shoreline. He felt his armor, carefully, and managed to find a large dent in its right side. That may become trouble later.

The giant, satisfied, moved on to Ostrava, who managed to duck out of the way of its club...but then the other came, and both were swinging at him. Instinctively, he put up his shield, and was sent flying backwards, the giants advanced, then, and closed the distance between them.

Biorr had just finished dispatching his giant. He looked back and saw the two on Ostrava, and started to run back, but before he could reach them he started coughing. His body suddenly felt weak. The air around him tasted bizarre, and his eyes and nose watered. He suddenly felt exhausted, and thirsty, and was sweating even though he was cold.

Standing near him was another Dregling, this one carrying a book, and raising its hand.

God damn Sorcerers. Biorr had time to think, before he collapsed on top of the giant's dead body.

Ostrava pulled himself to his feet as quickly as he could. Which, for a knight in full plate, was not fast. But he managed to get up before the giants converged on him. Biorr was down. Nameless was down. He was the only one up. Running wouldn't make a difference. He held his sword out sideways, and charged between the legs of the closest giant, cutting through its ankle. It screamed in pain. The other tried to hit him, but its partner covered him, and he kept running. The screaming giant grabbed at its leg and whimpered. The unharmed one turned, but slowly.

Ostrava ran to Nameless, who was closer, and saw that he was conscious.

"Get up," Ostrava said, and reached out his hand. "Up."

Nameless took the hand and allowed it to pull him up. He was relatively unharmed, just shaken. The giants were in front of them, and moving closer.

"I go right, you go left?" Nameless asked.

"What took out Biorr?" Ostrava asked.

"Huh?"

And before Nameless had time to realize that the big man was down, the uinjured giant was there.

Ostrava went right, and Nameless felt a twinge of annoyance but took left. It swung its club toward him, and Ostrava cut at its ankle. When it turned to attack him, Nameless cut its other ankle, and it fell to the ground.

Just like the Tower Knight.

But it was still more vicious than the tower knight had ever been. It squirmed like an overturned beetle with a giant club. It smacked the ground on one side of itself, then the other, and the second strike barely missed Nameless. Its friend caught up with it, and while he was distracted, it brought its club down onto his head.

He felt himself beaten into the ground, smashed like a bug. His armor cracked, and he sunk into the dirt. His sword flew out of his hand, and he had the familiar, uncomfortable pain of internal bleeding.

But it just raised its club again.

He reached into his belt to grab something, anything, and his fingers wrapped around the talisman. He put it out in front of himself.

Save me! He thought, and put every ounce of his will into it.

He expected another miracle, but instead, a blast of blue light flew out of the talisman, and hit the giant's head. It cut straight through, leaving a hole in the demon's cranium, that it grabbed at, desperately, as if unaware that it was supposed to die. Finally, it fell forward.

Nameless cursed, and scurried out of the way, but it fell on top of its wriggling friend, who accidentally hit it with his club, but did not stop its descent.

Ostrava ran over to the crippled, and now tackled giant, and cut its throat. Blood sprayed all over his armor and he stepped backward, unprepared for the grotesque fountain.

Nameless started to stand, and for a moment, almost thought that they were done. Then he heard the sound of pages turning.

He looked back, and saw a Dregling with a book running his fingers from page to page, and moving through them as quickly as possible. By the time it looked up to spot its enemies again, he was there, in front of it.

It didn't manage to squeal.

"Biorr...!" Ostrava called out.

But there was no response.

"Biorr!" Ostrava yelled again.

They found him lying on top of the giant, fading in and out of consciousness.

"I've healed him, but he's lost a lot of energy. We need to give him time to rest," Nameless said.

"I can't believe that he was hit with the Plague," Ostrava said. "I can't believe that magic can do that."

Magic can do a lot of things. Nameless thought, glancing down at his talisman.

They propped Biorr up on a bed made a driftwood, and sat, with their weapons drawn and their armor, other than their helmets, still on. If anything wanted to attack, they would be ready.

A voice in the back of his mind spoke: Do it. Do it now, while Biorr is unconscious.

But he hesitated. He hadn't made it through that fight alone. He didn't know if he could make it the rest of the way alone. Like it or not, for now, he needed Ostrava, and he needed Biorr.

"...While we're resting, I have a question," Ostrava asked.

"Yes?"

"You've seemed more coherent for some time now. I can't tell how long, it's impossible to chart the flow of time in this place, but...since shortly after we've came here, you've seemed to be able to hold yourself together. That wasn't how you were when we found you, to say the very least."

"...No, it wasn't."

"Do you have any idea why that might be?"

"No."

"Oh," Ostrava said. "...Do you think it might be...because you have a goal?"

"Could be."

Ostrava stared at him. With both their helmets removed, the subtlety of his expressions were once again visible. He turned away.

"Why don't you care about this?" Ostrava asked.

"I do."

"Then why aren't you thinking about it, trying to figure it out?"

"Because I don't want to think about it."

"There might be a solution...some way to-"

"-there isn't."

"Are you sure? Because we can at least try, that's better than-"

"There isn't."

The topic was closed. Around them, the darkness seemed stifling.

Ostrava waited carefully before asking his next question.

"You didn't want to come earlier...but then you changed your mind. Why?"

Nameless scratched at the dirt with his finger.

"Do you know?"

He looked up, and Ostrava saw the blankness in his eyes and face, that strange darkness present even when he had a body. "I do...it's just...it's hard to word."

"Can you try?"

Nameless looked away again, and seemed to be thinking for a moment, then said, "it was when you talked about Maiden Astraea, and Garl of Vinland."

"What about them?"

"I'm curious."

"...What?"

"I'm curious about them," Nameless said. "I want to talk to them."

Ostrava blinked. "We're here to kill them."

"I know...and if you did it without me, I'd never get the chance."

"What on Earth would you talk to them about?"

"I don't know. I'm still thinking about that. I'll probably know when I get there."

Ostrava tried to understand. He tried to scan the face of the man he was talking to for something he could grab onto. He was reminded, harshly, that he was speaking to half a man, one whose thoughts a dreams and even identity had been ripped from him.

"Maybe one of the things that I'll talk with them about...is the truth."

"The truth?"

"Maybe they know something about this. About all of this."

"...The Old One came, and brought demons with it. What else is there to know?"

And then, for the first time, Ostrava's attention was drawn to the talisman in Nameless's hand.

"Trust me," he said. "You would rather not know the truth."

"If it's true, I want to know it," said Ostrava.

Nameless glanced down at his talisman again.

Osford coughed once, and then twice, and then three times. Finally, he burst into a coughing fit, but still Astraea kept walking. She didn't even slow down.

Through his coughs, Osford managed to voice, "...St-Stop...slow down, at the very least...I...I can't do this, anymore." He pulled out his sword, and threw it blade first into the ground...then coughed again, and fell forward onto it.

Both Astraea and Garl turned.

"...What did you say?" Garl said, with an unmistakably intimidating tone in his voice.

"I can't..." Osford gasped. "I can't go any further. Not without knowing why we're doing this. The poison is seeping into my veins, and I don't care how many times you are going to heal me, Milady. It's poison. If I'm going to keep walking, then you're going to tell me what in the Lord's name we are trying to accomplish. I...I have a family, and I will not risk death down here without knowing what it's for."

"You border on heresy!" Garl roared.

But Astraea silenced him. "No. It's alright, Garl...I understand."

She walked toward Osford, and kneeled down, then took his head into her hands.

"I know...I'm sorry. I've been selfish."

Garl's stance became awkward, but he did not argue.

"I kept it to myself...because I thought that it was too great a burden, I thought that no one else would want to know. In truth...I even wanted to leave on my own. But I must bring at least two bodyguards with me, as is written in the laws of the church, and so I did. But...I informed you of nothing, and I should have. I'm sorry."

"What is there to inform us of?" Osford asked.

Even Garl seemed curious now.

"Are you sure that you want to know? Once you do, there will be no turning back. You will be forced to follow me, because even possessing this knowledge is akin to heresy of the worse kind."

Osford hesitated then.

And it was Garl who spoke.

"Milady. I would not have you carry this alone."

"Even if it destroys you, Garl? Even if it destroys everything that you have made of yourself?" She said.

"...Yes," he said, quietly. And then louder. "Yes, I would share your burden, even if it meant losing everything else."

She looked down, and saw Osford still sitting there, "And you?"

He was quiet for a long time. Then, he nodded silently.

She breathed in deeply, and then told them the truth.

"Are you sure?" Nameless said, playing with the talisman.

"I doubt it's so horrible," Ostrava said.

But then, he saw his companion's face. It was.

I knew it.

Not only the souls of mortal men responded to miracles, but the souls of mortal men who had used the soul arts, who, in turn, were no different than demons. Furthermore, the soul reacted exactly as it had to magic, with no difference whatsoever.

Finally, Freke had grabbed the souls that Urbain had taken from the boy...no one had touched them with the man dead, it wasn't exactly stealing...and had experimented with them, as well. Not only did they respond to miracles, but they were in themselves sources of miracles. That meant that the Miracles weren't gifts from god at all.

They were gifts from demons. The same as the magic that Yuria had used.

Freke knew, now, that there was only one kind of magic, miracles included. It either came from demons, or it came from humans who had used the Soul Arts, who were no different than demons.

It only led to one larger implication.

And Freke embraced the truth. He voiced it to himself, out loud, just to test how it felt on his tongue, and it felt right. Horrifyingly right.

"Once I tell you this, there is no going back," Nameless said.

Ostrava nodded.

"You're sure."

"Yes."

"...Fine," Nameless said, and continued:

"From what I understand, the Church teaches that there are two divine beings. Lord Umbasa, creator of the world and all that is holy, and the living incarnation of creation and protection...and The Old One, a being too awful to be named, the incarnation of destruction, and corruption. Umbasa was born along with his own universe...But the Old One existed in the blackness before the universe, and The Old One will be there after it is gone."

"That's true," Ostrava said.

Nameless blinked harshly when he said 'true,' but went on. "Both had a hand in creating mortal man, with Umbasa, or God, creating his pure white soul, and The Old One creating a twin black soul, the two of which man will constantly sway between. From God's soul came Miracles, from Man's soul came Magic, and from the Old One's soul came the Demon Magic of witches...which is why..."

Nameless hesitated here for a moment, and Ostrava wasn't sure why.

"...Which is why we kill witches, as they are the corrupted servants of The Old One."

"I know all of this," Ostrava said.

"Yes...well...it isn't true."

"...What?"

"A man I knew, Sage Freke...he had a theory, maybe a hypothesis, I don't know. It sounded insane to me at the time...but then I came here. And I found this."

He held up the Talisman.

"...What is it?"

"It's a Talisman that casts both Miracles and Magic...and it's in the shape of the Old One...and it's more powerful than any Talisman or Catalyst I've ever seen."

"But...why would God's Miracles be channeled through the Old One? Why would God allow that?"

"Because Miracles are just a Soul Art, like any other." Nameless said, and then told him the truth.

"There is no God. There is only The Old One."