Note: Hello! So sorry for the late update, I needed to get some stuff figured out before I posted this. Consider it something of a Christmas present.

Stirrings in the Night

Something that Hawkeye had prided himself on was his ability to keep calm. Even when a planned "appropriation" of someone's funds went awry, which it often did, he'd always presented a blithe, relaxed demeanor, outwardly confident that all would go smoothly while inwardly drawing up a dozen high-risk plans to make that happen. It had made him quite infamous amongst the guild, and the ladies back home always found his slick veneer and self-assured swagger to be quite alluring.

Undoubtedly, many of those same people would've gotten quite a laugh out of how uncharacteristically taken aback Hawkeye was at the sudden arrival of the young blonde woman. The young Queen of Laurent, no less. Leaving aside that this particular woman was amongst the very, very few that could leave his silver tongue in knots, it was not lost on him that, had he not been so reticent, or appalled, by the idea of Flamekhan crowning himself a king and decreeing that the road to survival was expansionism, then these people would be his enemies. Not just Riesz, but also Angela and Kevin, a Prince and Princess of kingdoms that not only would be viewed as enemies, but which would represent a dire threat to the agenda of his "kingdom". Then again, given the circumstances, he should've also been their enemy, given his own country's actions.

He'd had grave premonitions about what it meant for the Nevarl Thieves' Guild to become a "kingdom", but what had happened in Palo and Laurent was even worse than he'd expected.

Stealing not for the people, but from them. Consorting with demons. Blackmail. Assassination. Stealing one's own free will. And, he shuddered to imagine what else.

This wasn't just a game of fleecing the wealthy anymore, and it was not lost on him that, Nikkita's timely intervention notwithstanding, the others had scant reason to trust him. And yet, Riesz clearly did, despite having more reason than most to be suspicious of him. By that same token. Duran and Angela should have been enemies but were instead threatening to drive the others nuts with how they were taking so damn long to start ripping each other's clothes off and rutting like beasts. Keven and Charlotte also seemed nearly brother and sister, despite circumstances that should've seen them hate one another.

And yet, they all were here, riding together atop a sea creature's back as they labored towards a common goal.

"Oh, nothing much," Riesz answered the thief, giving him a cryptic smile that, odd though it might seem, almost looked like it belonged on someone else's face. "I was just curious as to what was going on with you," she told him, trying to keep her true intentions hidden. Granted, she had meant to speak with him regarding matters essential to the next leg of their journey, and she was concerned for his well-being. But, it was also true that she had…other motives. "So, regarding Nevarl," the young Queen began. "You said Belladonna is likely to be on the alert for us. What do you recommend we do about it?"

Hawkeye was annoyed and yet relieved at Riesz's question. He could answer it, but he had hoped for a line of questioning a bit less "official". Whether it was by design or simple happenstance that crossing her legs like that made her thighs so enticing, for instance. "Most of the coast is sheer cliffs, but there's a stretch of beach right near the capital," the violet-haired thief began. "We could perhaps cut through there," he said. "We'd have to be cautious, especially given Belladonna's forces would likely be anywhere in the city."

"You think we should stop there, then? Despite the risk of detection?"

"We'll have to. Without water and supplies, we won't last long in the desert, even in a good year. And, I'm having trouble remembering what a "good year" even is for that place. No, like it or not, we'll need to stock up there, and we'll just have to make sure we don't attract attention to ourselves."

At this point, the Amazon Queen did something…rather odd. She craned her torso forward, coiled her right arm about her left, and twisted herself away from the thief. Hawkeye was promptly left wondering why she would feel cramped after only a few minutes. Not to mention the tantalizing expanse of her back.

"True," Riesz agreed, twisting in the other direction and offering a rather interesting view of her…chest. Then she went quiet for a moment. "However, I... don't wish to discuss battle strategies," she said. "I... wish to discuss your country."

Hawkeye was puzzled by the young Queen's words. "What do you mean?"

"Your land, Nevarl," Riesz clarified, and he could swear she was leaning in closer. "I...wish to know more about it."

Hawkeye was more than a little surprised, considering the young woman had every right to hold his homeland in contempt. Besides, when the pair had compared notes about their respective homes just after they'd met, the conversation had been…less-than-cordial. But now, she sounded genuinely curious. Which, in turn, made him perplexed. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" the blonde questioned, turning to face him while crossing her legs and leaning forward, giving Hawkeye an even better view than she'd offered beforehand. "I know next to nothing about your home, aside from Belladonna and some hearsay," she said, her voice growing a little darker. But it quickly lightened. "But I suspect there's far more to it than Belladonna and her dark magic."

The tan thief nodded. "I won't lie; it's not as pretty as your home," he said. "It's also even more dangerous. Nevarl is mostly desert. The days are scorching, and the nights are freezing; even before Mana started to fail, carving out civilization there was hard. There are only two significant areas where it's sustainable for humans to live, three if you count the Fortress where the Thieves Guild was based. And, those that are at the top leech and suck those below them dry until there's nothing left."

Riesz bit her lip, not precisely expecting such a jaded answer from the usually upbeat thief. "But you still wish to fight for it, right?"

"For the people there, yes," Hawkeye answered. "For those under that witch's rule," he clenched his fists. "And to make sure Eagle gets the justice he deserves."

"He shall," Riesz assured him. "And Jessica shall be saved. All of your comrades will be."

"Assuming Belladona has kept her word and she's even still alive." the young man muttered.

Truthfully, he had no idea why his mood was so grim. Perhaps it was the fact that they were drawing closer and closer to his homeland, which he had been forced to flee when the life he had known had crumbled in the space of one terrible evening. Or, it might've been because he had left with so many questions left unanswered. Were Jessica or Flamekhan even still alive? Did they discover the truth? Even if everyone in the party knew of Hawkeye's situation, and had chosen to stand by him, there was still the danger of what might happen should he speak directly of the cursed necklace.

"Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions just yet," the blonde suddenly stated, almost as if she had sensed his train of thought. "Jessica is alive."

"How are you so certain?" Hawkeye inquired, hating how uncertain he felt.

"It's somewhat selfish of me, I admit," Riesz told him, surprising them both when she placed a hand on his shoulder. "But I trust that she's alive because wherever she is," she paused, looking up at the darkening sky, the stars winking down upon them from the heavens. "Elliot is there too."

Nevarl

"AHHHH!"

The scream cut through the tense silence that fell over the entire village of Diin; every night, in fact, since people started going missing from the remote settlement. Goremand watched, his boredom becoming delight, as everyone outside immediately fled to their homes, terrified of the faceless menace that visited their village night after night.

"He's back," Sarafina whispered, not daring to risk attracting the nocturnal fiend's attention. Then, suddenly, Heath stood up and made his way toward the door. "W-Wait! Where are you going?!" she questioned, her fear and unspoken vow to stay silent briefly forgotten.

"Stay here," Heath told her firmly. "Stay with your son and lock the door after I leave."

The priest exited the woman's home and scanned the area, his senses already alerting him that something dark and hideous had come to this place. And it was a different presence than that of Goremand. Another scream, slightly weaker than before, was heard, and the young man ran toward the direction of the noise.

The scene he beheld was one born of nightmares.

A short distance outside the village's borders, a young woman had apparently been gathering fruit from the few trees hardy enough to survive in the harsh climate of the desert, only to be waylaid by a creature which was an anathema to the natural order of life and death. The creature in question was a pale-faced, shadowy figure that held the limp form of his victim in a firm but gentle grip, the woman's form too drained to even keep itself upright anymore.

The screams she had uttered moments before were now little more than feeble croaking.

"Stop right there!" Heath shouted, gaining the attention of the figure. "Drop the girl," he commanded, sounding more authoritative than his pacifistic nature would have others believe. "Now."

The shadowy humanoid smirked, the action exposing his elongated canines, red with blood. "There's little point in saving her now," he said, voice surprisingly smooth and enticing. "She doesn't have much time left."

Seeing those eyes, Heath found himself drawn in for a moment. Something in those gleaming orbs reached beneath his weary flesh and brushed against his sagging spirit. He could feel a soothing calm, of the sort he could barely remember from those half-forgotten days before his abduction, before his doubts had started creeping in, before his talks with the Priest of Light became more and more adversarial. It urged him to surrender to the beautiful, red orbs, and he almost did, before he noticed something else. Behind the sweet allure was something ancient, something cold, and something outside the bounds of this world. It was strange, yet compelling. And, it was familiar.

It was similar - not the same, but terribly similar - to that of the Jester's Master.

Whoever, or whatever, this being was, he and Heath's captor were cut from the same cloth. Both were unnatural, both were deadly, and both were ievil/i. Torpidity becoming lucid revulsion, he wrested back control over himself. "Nevertheless, her life is not yours to take," the priest responded. "Especially to satiate a craving as vile as that." he punctuated the point by leveling a condemning finger at the rivulets of blood running down the creature's chin.

The figure was unaffected by the young man's words. At least, outwardly. Beneath his characteristically calm facade, however, Malocchio was quite startled. He had supped upon the blood of the pious before. Quite often, actually. And, as yet, the only difference between them and the faithless was that the former occasionally put up more of a fight.

They usually tasted better, too.

But, someone so strong in his faith and so pious as to shrug off his allure so easily? That was a thing unheard-of! …and, he realized as lucidity returned, that wasn't what had happened. At least, not entirely. This young man had a stench about him that had nothing in common with holy water and incense.

It was a scent similar to that of Malocchio's own kind. Similar, close, but different.

Whoever this young man was, he was not what he appeared. And, whatever hand was behind him was a dangerous one.

"Here, she's yours," and, with sickening casualness, he simply let his captive go, her limp form collapsing to the sandy ground in a heap. "Do with her as you will. I have what I came for."

Heath was racing toward the fallen woman before she was halfway through her fall. He had half expected the dark creature to lash out at him as he neared, and was halfway through the incantation for Lucent Beam, but the creature did not stand and fight. Instead, it transformed into a splotch of shadow, racing along the sand and was soon out of sight. "Miss," the young man said, racing over to the poor maiden that the foul being had felled. "Miss, are you all right?" From what he could see, there were no outward signs of injury, yet he felt her life slipping away from her at an alarmingly rapid rate. But, he also felt another presence looming behind him. But, this one was much more familiar, even if it was no more welcome. He turned to see Goremand standing over him, that damned smirk on his face as if he found some perverted amusement in what might well be an innocent woman's final moments. "No," Heath firmly stated. "This soul is not for you to consume."

The nigh-skeletal jester shrugged. "I don't want her anyway," he said dismissively, which only disgusted Heath all the more. "Besides, I can't consume her soul. It belongs to her Master now."

Heath gently set the woman down before he rose to meet Goremand's gaze. "Master? What do you mean?" he questioned. "Do you mean the one you serve?"

"Oh no, not MY Master," the jester clarified. "HER Master is the one that just sucked her life away," he said. Then, he produced his scythe. "Just like she's about to suck away yours."

Startled and confused, Heath turned around and, to his stupefaction, saw that the woman, who was near death moments before, had risen. Yet, her features had changed: her skin, once tan and vibrant, even in the moonlight, had dulled and turned corpse gray. What's more, her eyes had taken on an unnatural red hue. But the most startling transformation was that, just like her attacker, she now bore long, sharpened canines. These were bared and, with unnatural speed, now drew within inches of sinking into the priest's throat. Fortunately, such an event never happened, yet Heath's survival didn't come without a price. Grabbing Heath and throwing him to the side, Goremand raised his weapon and sliced through the reanimated corpse; the woman's body fell away, cleanly cut in two. He spilled no blood or organs, but her form began to disintegrate and fade away until it became indistinguishable from the grains of sand that blanketed this harsh land. Even harsher now than in times past, evidently.

"You killed her!" Heath shouted as he whirled on his unwanted companion, appalled and sickened by what he had just seen.

"Yeah, because she was going to kill you," Goremand pointed out, leveling a gloved finger in the priest's face. "I'm not a fan, but the Master, MY Master, told me to watch out for you while you're getting some air outside our home. Besides," he then looked at where the woman once lay. "She was as good as dead the second you got here. There was nothing human left in her."

Heath was stunned to hear this. "What do you mean?"

Goremand smirked. "The bite of that creature you just saw is a curse," he explained. "It sucks the life force out of anything that creature sinks its teeth into, and it brings them back as what you saw just now," Heath was left in stunned silence as Goremand continued. "Neither dead nor alive, but forever cold and hungry. The warmth of blood is the one thing that satiates them," his smile then grew wider. "You may now have someone you revile even more than me," then, he noticed that Heath had begun walking away from him. "Hey! Where are you going?!"

Heath looked back. Good, he thought, now he had the jester's attention. "Don't you realize that there's a terrible threat to the people of this village?" he questioned Goremand. "Not that you would care, yet it is my duty as a holy man to banish any evil plaguing them."

"Uh, no, it isn't," the jester argued. "You're only allowed to be here because the Master has permitted it. He didn't permit you to get killed while chasing some phantom."

"Indeed," Heath answered. Then, to Goremand's surprise, the young priest smiled. "Isn't that what you're here for?"

Atop of Vuscav

"That's right, your brother," Hawkeye said. "Well, yeah, you're right. And, if they're together, I know he'll protect Jessica. From what you've told me, he sounds like a brave kid."

Riesz was a little stunned to hear that. "Truthfully, I always thought Elliot was...unprepared for the world," she confessed. "I see what you mean, but I can't help but worry."

As Vuscav continued to swim onward and the moon rose in the sky, silence fell between the two once more, neither entirely sure how to continue the conversation. The thief and amazon had, despite their rather thorny positions and considerable emotional baggage, found themselves becoming more comfortable with one another during their journey. They found they didn't want to stop talking. Still, what they had discussed so far was dire and grim. It was reality, yet both young people found that they wanted to talk about less weighty matters. Finally, after long moment of ineffectually groping for a way to break the ice, Hawkeye struck upon something which he knew Riesz would be delighted to discuss.

"Unlike mine, your land's beautiful."

The young Queen found herself disbelieving her own ears for a moment. "Pardon?"

"I said, your land is beautiful," Hawkeye told her. "True, it takes a great deal of climbing to get anywhere," he acknowledged. "But your country's mountains and skies are gorgeous and clean, and they seem a fine place to feel like you're far away from the troubles of the world."

Riesz gave a light chuckle. "They used to be. Then, the troubles came knocking."

"The sea provides you with whatever you need, and the people there aren't reduced to scavenging for whatever they can find to survive," Hawkeye continued. "I'm still not a fan of the monarchy system, but you," he smiled at her. "You take care of your people."

Riesz's blue eyes widened, a flush of pink coming to her cheeks. "Although," the thief then said. "Your land isn't the only thing beautiful about Laurent." His honey-colored eyes met hers, and the young woman immediately understood what he meant.

"Y-Yes, well…thank you." Riesz sputtered, her cheeks growing even hotter when she saw the thief's smile grow.

Goddess, was it only now that she realized how his hair looked under the moon? No, she had always known. Truthfully, Riesz had always seen and understood this and more regarding the thief. She'd had no reason to trust him at first, yes. Not after a horde of his friends had ransacked her home, killed her father, and abducted her brother. But, even then, she couldn't deny he was attractive. But until they'd reclaimed her home, the young woman never had a moment with him until the jubilee after they took the kingdom back.

Then, she found it increasingly difficult to control herself around him. Even now, she was unsure what to do or say; his presence stirred up emotions she had never experienced before, but she knew well what they were. And it both excited and concerned her deeply. True, she was pleased to have gained Hawkeye as an ally, but she would be lying if she didn't say there was something else at work. Something beyond her control.

And, Angela's lessons in the "Fine Art of Flirting" (her words, not Riesz's) had fallen far short of preparing her when she did, in fact, snare herself a man.

Wait, WHAT?! she mused, inwardly panicked at her own choice of words.

"Riesz?"

"Hm? Oh, yes," the amazon cleared her throat, trying not to sound like she'd just finished a double shift patrolling some peaks back home with especially rarefied air. "Well, thank you for your kind words," she said. Then, a short period of silence followed. "Although," she began, after determinedly groping for what to say next. "It is shameful on my part not to consider your land's hardships," she told the thief. "Nor those of its people."

Hawkeye shook his head. "You're busy in your own country. How could you think of a land hundreds of miles away?"

"I've always known Nevarl was a...less-than-prosperous place," Riesz answered Hawkeye, trying to choose her words carefully so as to not insult the thief's home. "They have suffered under countless wars, both from outside forces and within."

"The Peddan War was what turned the country into a pariah, not to mention so many of its people into beggars…or corpses," Hawkeye recalled, his tone hardening. "Flamekhan told me the only reason he sided with them during the conflict was their promise of helping his people. That made their offer even more alluring than that they looked like they'd win. But, unfortunately, the King of Pedda was more interested in ruling the world than actually making life better for his future "subjects"."

Indeed, the young Queen thought. But she was trying to find a positive quality about Nevarl, difficult as it was. Aside from Hawkeye himself, her interactions with the land's inhabitants were few, far between, and nearly ended in disaster. And the sight of her people under Belladonna's heel in Palo still boiled her blood. Damnable witch, she mentally hissed. But the red-haired woman wasn't her concern right now. Though both she and Hawkeye had scores to settle with the witch, not to mention loved ones to rescue from her, Belladonna yet lay beyond their reach. For now. Instead, she needed to guide this conversation towards calmer waters. Moreover, the sight of Hawkeye's usually bright features being overtaken by somberness didn't sit well with the amazon.

But then she remembered the night in Palo, where they had to sneak through the occupied town in disguise. It was a small detail to note, especially considering everything else that took place that night, but it was something. Something embarrassing, from Riesz's perspective, but she was willing to dredge up her bad memories to remind Hawkeye of his good ones. "The attire of your nation's women," Riesz said to Hawkeye. "It's rather...striking."

The violet-haired youth cocked a brow. "Oh, really?"

The blonde nodded, trying not to feel like she'd just stepped into a snare. Or overthink the way he was eyeing her. "I'll admit, they can be a little...low-cut in some areas," Riesz felt herself growing hot again. Even now, she still couldn't believe she had danced for a crowd of bar patrons while clad in little more than nearly-transparent silk. "Yet, there is a certain exotic beauty to them," she then thought back to that night when she and Angela entertained the occupying Nevarlans. Tried to, anyway. "Angela seemed to take quite a liking to her outfit."

"And you didn't?" The young man asked.

"Oh no, it's not like that," Riesz said. "I liked my clothes; they were just a little more…revealing than I expected."

Her plan seemed to have worked. Hawkeye was back. "They suited you perfectly." He told her, his voice soft.

Though she would insist that it was because the night was getting colder, Riesz's cheeks grew warm. Still, she returned his statement with a shy smile. The one Angela had suggested felt awkward to her anyway. From the other side of Vuscav's shell, the four other party members observed the thief and Queen talking.

"So, you think they hit it off?" Kevin whispered, sounding as awkward as he felt. "If that's what it's called?"

Charlotte giggled. And here, everyone else thought she was the naive one. "I don't know about that," she told the young Beastman. "But I think he's getting thewe."

"Matters like these are extremely delicate and must be handled with care," Angela added. "A woman's heart, no matter how hard her exterior, is always sensitive. And, yeah, her smile looks better on her than mine does. Mine's too specialized."

Duran's eyes were fixed on the Altenan Princess, her pale skin reflecting the moon's soft glow. Faerie said nothing, but she could see her host's thoughts. Not all of them were…knightly, So, do you plan on telling her soon?

Duran didn't speak aloud, but his body immediately grew tense. Tell her what?/

Faerie scoffed. You know what, the winged woman told him. I can feel it; you're dying to say something to her.

Am not! Duran retorted.

You're also still mad that you two didn't get to finish back on Beucca Island.

Quiet, you!

"Duran? Are you okay?" The wild-haired soldier was brought back to reality at the sound of Kevin's inquiry. "Your face is all red."

"Huh?" Duran tried to simmer down, even if he was still quite flustered. "N-No, it's not."

"No, he's right," Angela said. "Your face is about as red as one of those Tomato Men." The mention of the island people reminded her of the seeds given to them. But, unfortunately, she didn't believe Altena was a suitable climate for growing normal vegetables, much less sentient ones. And thus, she needed to figure out if Nevarl was better. If not, maybe they could swing by Valsena, and perhaps see if King Richard would permit them to plant the seeds in his realm.

Between his surprising willingness to hear Angela out and trust her despite her being the daughter of the same woman who'd betrayed him, and his determination to quash the slave trade in Beiser despite having far more immediate problems, she figured the Tomato Men would find the Hero King to be a good neighbor. And, a good friend.

Charlotte smirked, her eyes curious but playful. "I don't suppose YOU have anything you want to shawe?" She asked. "Anything pawticuwar on youw mind?" She grinned, the expression almost predatory. "We're all fwends here, wight?"

Duran vehemently shook his head. "No way! I'm just…wondering what we're going to do when we get to Nevarl," he said. "After all, we need to find the Firestone, and fast." He glanced at Angela, a small flash of pain coming over her features. No one needed to ask why.

Charlotte and Kevin nodded in agreement. "And there's that girl to rescue, Jessica," Kevin added.

"Awong with Wiesz's bwothew, Ewwiot."

Then, a thought came to Angela, but she didn't utter a word about it. The possibility was there, but it was one she didn't wish to consider. And yet, even though she decided to keep it to herself, she couldn't help but wonder, given Jose's tragic fate. What of Jessica and Elliot's fates, though? What role would they play in all of this?

Would they serve the same horrible purpose Jose did?

Thieves' Fortress

Upon seeing the fortress, Heath was forced to admit that he was impressed. Not only did the sheer time and effort it must've taken to carve such a compound into the cliffs, especially in this inhospitable climate, boggle the mind but, from even just a few meters away, it could've easily been mistaken for another pile of wind-scoured rock. Standing before the front entrance, Heath and Goremand succeeded in doing what many an angry resident of Sihrtan had failed to do: they entered the lair of the Nevarl Thieves' Guild. And, through the front door, no less. The guards were taken care of, leaving no opposition. Still, Goremand nonetheless grumbled about his unwanted companion's choice of methods.

"You should've just let me eat their souls," the jester told the priest. "Then you wouldn't have had to put every one of them to sleep."

Heath shook his head. "They're not for you to consume," he told the foul creature, not liking his company either. "And they're already under enchantment, so they're innocent."

"Even though they attacked you?" Goremand questioned, scoffing. "Well, you're going to have to kill eventually," he said, producing his scythe. "This place is not somewhere any mortal should go."

Heath didn't wish to give the jester anything he could use against the priest, but Heath couldn't deny the devourer of souls was correct. As he and Goremand drew closer to the fortress, following the dark shadow trailing along the sand, the young man could sense a slew of dark and terrible forces which had coalesced within these walls. And upon entering the place, the presence of foul creatures became even more powerful. So, what lay within these walls to produce such a sickening twisting in his gut? Better yet, what caused this to happen?

Only one thing was clear: whatever it was, it was at least as dangerous as Goremand's "Master".

"Yoo-hoo!" Goremand whispered in the priest's ear. "Look sharp!" Suddenly, both could see shadows traveling along the walls. "We've got company."

From lurking behind corners to seemingly manifesting from the very darkness, several humanoid shapes emerged, but they were anything but human. Their limbs were unnaturally long but toned, and their hands and feet sported claws that looked like they could tear flesh from bone. Curved horns adorned their heads, and their eyes lacked a pupil or iris; only a blank white stare regarded the priest and jester, the former of whom found the effect strangely chilling. They had varying skin colors, ranging from red to blue and even green and purple, but they all possessed a snout with a mouth full of dagger-like teeth. A pair of wings, much like those of a bat, spread from their broad shoulders and, upon seeing the two intruders, they all presented an "inviting" toothy grin; only the creatures' teeth were designed to rip and tear.

"Demons?!" the priest exclaimed in shock. "Here?!"

"Looks like it," Goremand said. "Pity these things already belong to darkness," he mused, disappointed. "They've got no souls to dine on."

"I think you've had enough for a few lifetimes," Heath told the jester. Even if he was the priest's "bodyguard", the jester's unholy hunger for the souls of the living disgusted him. "But still, how would these creatures be here? They should not be able to enter this world…unless they were summoned."

This statement appeared to catch Goremand's attention, causing a scowl to form on his usual sickly jovial face. The priest was little more than some pet that his Master doted on, and he'd never tell the young man why, but bringing him here caused the jester to do something very ironic: agree with Heath. If Demons were being summoned, and his Master wasn't summoning them, the jester realized that perhaps the Beastmen of Ferolia weren't the only forces to be wary of. The Master would need to know of this development…

…assuming either of them would get back to the Master.

Atop Vuscav

"I'll admit, I was a little disappointed you didn't dance at your kingdom's celebration," Hawkeye told Riesz. "You looked radiant at the bar."

"I'm no dancer," the amazon said. Still, hearing him say that felt nice. "Angela was the one that put on the light show." she couldn't be sure, but she was beginning to suspect the thief was reveling in seeing her blush.

"I speak the truth," Hawkeye said. His smile was pleasant, yet it wasn't just a pretty face. Instead, Riesz saw a genuineness in his expression. "I...have always found you beautiful."

Riesz felt her heart beating, pulsing in her chest like a war drum as her entire body began to feel hot. Yet, despite the heat, she didn't try to shove it to some dark corner of her mind to be forgotten. It felt lovely. "Well," she began, voice soft. "You..." she gulped. Was she going to say this? "You're...not bad looking yourself."

That seemed to catch Hawkeye off guard. "What?"

Goddess, are you going to make me repeat it? I can't take much more of this! The young Queen inwardly mused. Still, she didn't brush the feeling away. It was too late for that now. She was in too deep, whether she liked it or not, and none of Angela's less-than-solicited lessons on "Playing Hard to Get" would extricate her now. "I said," she cleared her throat. "You're not bad looking yourself."

Riesz couldn't believe it at first, but she swore she saw the tan skin of the young man's cheeks redden. "Well, I mean, yeah, I like to think so," Hawkeye said, trying to regain his customary composure. But, unfortunately, he found his usual charms unable to hide the truth; his words caught in his throat as the amazon's words repeated in his mind. "Still...thanks," he said, inwardly kicking himself for sounding so lame.

Riesz chuckled. "And apparently, Duran's Aunt thinks so too." Hawkeye's face then turned beet red, much to Riesz's satisfaction. "At least I know you're honest by that alone," she pointed to his hot face. "But still...I'm...not playing with you," the thief waited for her to finish with bated breath. "I...do like you."

Thieves' Fortress

With a great roar, the red Demon conjured a Dark Force spell and hurled it in the priest's direction, the black mass of pulsing energy seeming to leech the very light from the room. A Holy Bolt pierced the dark sphere and dissipated it, the beam also shooting through the Demon's body. The light from the blast spread throughout until the beast was consumed by light. Finally, it turned black, as if burned nearly to ash, before fading away in a puff of sulfurous air. Whether that meant it had been killed outright or sent back to its own hellish realm, the priest could not say. "I...I think that's the last of them," Heath said, having dispatched what he hoped was the last of the foul monsters. "Still, Demons..."

"Someone's been very naughty," Goremand chuckled. "Summoning the denizens of hell. Don't they know that Demons serve no one but themselves?"

"Then you would count as one of them, wouldn't you?" Heath retorted, sickened by the jester's delight in destruction and murder.

"If you see me as a Demon, priesty, then I don't mind," Goremand responded with a smile. "I'll try to maintain that perception," Heath just turned away from him. "Anyway, whoever's brought those guys into this world has been experimenting with terribly dark magic," he paused. "Or…"

"Or, what?" Heath questioned, his eyes narrowing.

"Or, they're serving a power even higher than themselves," the jester noticed the priest's confusion. "Think about it: why haven't they killed any of the guards? Or anyone else that lives here, for that matter? This fortress could house hundreds, so why aren't we seeing the aftereffects of a…shall we say, feeding frenzy? No, they're here for a purpose."

Despite his disdain for the undead fiend, Heath couldn't deny that Goremand's assumptions were most likely correct. Demonic forces differed from the Malvole, for while they were shaped differently than the human race, they were not inherently evil. Instead, Demons were creatures of base, malevolent instinct that actively sought the ruin of the world, the torture and debasement of all living things, even monsters. But then, he remembered a detail he had missed before. "Wait a moment," Heath turned back to face the jester. ""Anyone else"? Are there other people here?"

Goremand shook his head. "Oh no, no, you're not saving them," he said. "You're going to stay here and...wha?!" While the jester was in mid-sentence, Heath ran off, deciding to seek out the humans presumably trapped in this fortress. "H-Hey! Don't you dare get yourself killed!" the jester shouted, running after him. "The Master would never let me hear the end of it!"


"Huh?" Elliot stood up, alerting Jessica, who was half-asleep. "What's that?"

Listening as well, Jessica heard footsteps. Turning, she saw that, to her amazement, a figure was racing up to stand before her and Elliot's cell. "Who are you?" she questioned. The young man's skin was relatively light compared to hers, so it was apparent he wasn't a native to Nevarl. "How did you get in here?"

Heath opened his mouth to give an answer, but then it occurred to him that the midst of a fortress infested by demons was NOT a good place for long-winded explanations. Especially not if Goremand became impatient. And…peckish.

"I am a priest of Wendel," he began, deciding to offer what he could in the scant time they likely had. "I was attending to wounded in Diin and heard tell of a creature attacking women there. I followed the creature here."

The two captives blinked back at him, guarded hope creeping into their wary, fearful expressions.

"Does that mean you're here to help us?" Jessica finally asked after long moments of trepidation.

"If that's what you need, then I am here to serve," Heath told them. He then began testing the strength of the bars, finding that they were quite solid and well beyond his strength to break. "But first, to get you out of here."

"You're going to need my help for that," Heath turned to see Goremand had reemerged, Elliot and Jessica shrinking back from the sight of the jester brandishing an impressively long scythe. "Don't run off on me again," he hissed in Heath's direction. "I hate you just as much as you hate me, and then some. But, until we get back, you're my responsibility."

"And, as of now, they are mine," Heath said, gesturing to the two young people behind the bars. "Release them."

"What is that thing?!" Elliot cried, obviously terrified, but he nonetheless stood before Jessica, shielding her from the nightmarish-looking being.

"It's all right," Heath assured the boy, idly wondering if claiming such constituted bearing false witness. "I won't let him hurt you," he then directed his attention back to Goremand. "Free them, but their souls remain in their bodies!"

"Ugh, fine," the jester groaned. "Stand back, kid!" Goremand then raised his scythe. "Then again, your soul does look like it'd be as sweet as that spunky girl's," he smirked at Heath. "I think you know who I mean."

The priest said nothing in response. Still, the mention of her conjured up intense worry. Charlotte…

With one swing, the jester cleaved through the bars of Elliot and Jessica's cell, the iron rods clattering to the floor with a series of loud clangs. "Well, now they know you're here," he told Heath. "So, we gotta get out of here!"

"Wait!" Jessica called out. "What about my father?!"

Goremand rolled his eyes. "Do you have to?" he questioned Heath, even though he already knew the answer.

Heath guided Elliot and Jessica over to the stairs, making sure they avoided tripping on the bars still littering the floor. Though both captives were hesitant to trust this stranger, neither could suppress a quiet feeling of elation. After all this time, both of them were finally free. But neither was out of danger yet. "We should hurry," Jessica pointed out. "As your…companion said, Belladonna's forces surely know you're here."

Heath's jaw tightened. Indeed, while he didn't want to give Goremand any credit, he should have thought this through more. Still, this "Belladonna" gave him pause. "Who is that?" he asked. "Is she the one who summoned the evil forces in this place?"

"That's not even half the extent of her crimes," Jessica growled, feeling the tightness of the choker around her neck. "But we can discuss that later. For now, please," she grabbed onto his garments. "Take Elliot to safety first, but please save my father from that witch."

Heath pondered this, realizing the situation he had put himself in. True, the darkness permeating this country needed investigating, yet now he was tasked with caring for two recently rescued prisoners. And he knew better than to think Goremand could be trusted with either of them, so having him whisk one off to safety wasn't an option. Knowing him, he would either steal their soul or bring them back to his Master. And while the jester's Lord had been surprisingly lenient towards the priest, it didn't change the fact that he was still a hostage.

Indeed, this was quite a dilemma.

Atop Vuscav

"Oooh! She said it!" Charlotte whispered giddily. "She said she wikes him!"

"It's still just "like' though,'' Angela added. "It's a step in the right direction, but the finish line's a long way off."

The four went quiet again and continued to listen in on Hawkeye and Riesz. And so far, the thief was stunned by what he had just heard. "You...you like me?" he questioned. "Like, as in...I mean...really?"

Riesz bit her lip. She wondered if she had spoken too soon, but it was too late to be dishonest now. "Well, yes," she answered. "I...admit, I'm still a little unsure of what to think, but from what I've seen so far, despite some of your...quirks," she said, trying to word her statement in a way where it didn't sound insulting.

"Good or bad?" the thief questioned.

"Well...they make you...you," Riesz responded. "But you are someone of great character, despite your…career choice," she smiled. "And, I will admit, you have made me question many things."

Hawkeye could not help some strong curiosity at what she meant. "In a good or bad way?"

Riesz had to think about that. Indeed, her view of Hawkeye was vastly more positive than when they had initially met. So much had occurred between them, and the others too, she found that there were too many events to decide which were for the better and which for the worse. Nevertheless, it had given her much to ponder. "I think, in the end," she finally found her words, even if they weren't the most eloquent. "They're things that will significantly benefit my people," she smiled. "And yours."

Eventually, the conversation died down, and the two fell silent again, gazing out at the ocean, eyes peeled for any sign of land.

"Aw," Charlotte groaned. "We didn't get any action."

"Is there supposed to be?" Kevin questioned. He still needed to be made aware of the customs of humans regarding courtship. And, the examples before him were certainly…unique.

"Well, how do Beastmen tell someone they like them?" Angela questioned.

"Easy," the young Prince answered. "Food."

The magician supposed should've expected such an answer. She then noticed Duran; his expression conflicted. "Hey, what's with you?" she asked.

"Oh, it's nothing," the soldier told her. "I guess I'm just apprehensive about what's ahead."

"True," Angela agreed. "Still," she held up her wand. "We've got Undine with us now, so if it gets too hot in the desert, I can whip up some ice water," she then paused. "Assuming there's any nearby oases where we're going."

Duran nodded curtly, unable to suppress the feeling that, as deadly as thirst could be, it'd be the least of their problems.

Tell her, you blockhead! Fairy shouted between his ears.

Case in point, Duran mused frustratedly

Nevarl Fortress

The violet-skinned denizen of the underworld was slain by the priest's Holy Bolt, allowing him, Jessica, and Elliot to continue. "Where are your father's chambers?" he asked the blue-haired young woman.

Having found no trace of the girl's father in the dungeons, Jessica had been frantic with worry for his well-being. And, despite Goremand's insistence that they'd lingered too long, Heath kept on rebuking the jester despite having even less knowledge of where "King" Flamekhan might be.

The idea that he might be imprisoned in his own chambers was a desperate gamble, and he had no idea how to proceed if he was proven wrong.

"This way," she said, pointing to the left. "Ever since Belladonna came, he converted it to house her as well," she informed Heath. The thought of that woman taking advantage of her father in however many ways (some of which she hoped were not true) made her skin crawl and her blood boil.

"Where is that creepy clown?" Elliot asked, gamely keeping up as Jessica tugged him along by the wrist.

"Oh, he's around somewhere," Heath answered. "But he won't bother you. I won't let him," they all ran down the long stone corridor, alert for any perils lurking in the shadows cast by the flickering torches. "How long has this been going on?" he questioned Jessica.

"Belladonna came here a few years ago, but none of this happened until recently," Jessica told him. "It all started when women began disappearing from Diin and Sirhtan," she bit her lip. "I wasn't sure if any of it was true until girls from around here started going missing too."

Heath paled upon hearing that, thinking back to the woman earlier. The one Goremand had slain. Or rather, the corrupted husk that was left behind after that creature of the night had drained her dry. "These disappearances," he began. "Did you see anyone or anything that might point to who was responsible?"

"I didn't need to; I've met the perpetrator myself," the young woman told the priest, causing his eyes to pulse wide. "He always looks at me with those hungry eyes. Every time he passes by, he makes sure I know he wants me," she shuddered. "But recently, he seems to have lost interest. As if he's found something else he finds even more enticing." her expression grew grim. Or someone else.

Then, Heath stopped before a doorway. "Is this it?" he questioned.

"Yes," Jessica said. "Although, I don't know what you'll find."

Heath nodded in agreement. He wondered what his next step should be, considering that his two charges had no means of defending themselves. Granted, if the priest hadn't taken them with him, they would've been kept prisoner, and any jailer who would consort with demons was one he'd not wish on the worst of humanity. But, the problem remained: taking them along as he ventured deeper into this Belladonna's lair put them at greater risk. And, it didn't help that the alternatives were even worse. Sending them to the exit alone would mean recapture at best and death at worst, and he dared not leave them in the "care" of Goremand.

Unless Heath was there to coerce the jester into compliance, it was likely he would either abandon his charges or, worse, consume their souls.

Left with only the least unpalatable amongst a list of terrible options, he could only pray to the Goddess that he would not fail…and hope that She would be inclined to answer his prayers despite the recent…unbecoming company he had kept, and his considerable doubts beforehand.

Scanning the area, he saw no Demons or any other hellspawn creatures, yet he suspected that such foul things always waited to strike when one least suspected it. "Young Prince," he addressed Elliot. "We may be heading somewhere dangerous," he told him. "So, if I cannot do so, I need you to protect Jessica. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure!" the boy answered, and with surprising determination. "I've been protecting her since I got here!"

"Indeed, he has," Jessica confirmed, her words warm. Heath smiled but then grew serious. He parted the curtain that served as the "door" and saw an older man chained to a chair, clearly exhausted and only half-conscious. "Father!" the young woman cried out, rushing over to the bearded elder, gently shaking his shoulder to try and rouse him.

Thankfully, this appeared to work as Flamekhan came back to his senses. "J-Jessica?" he strained, unsure whether she was real.

"Yes, it's me. Me, not whatever trick that witch might've been torturing you with," Jessica told her father. She wasn't sure whether or not Belladonna could conjure illusions, but she wouldn't put it past the red-haired woman. "Oh, what has she done to you?"

"Nothing worse than what lays in store for you."

All four of the humans froze, the two Nevarlan natives recognizing the voice all too well. Heath immediately felt two foul energies coalesce behind them, preparing himself to strike when necessary. Then, turning around, everyone saw Belladonna and Malocchio had entered the room, a horde of fearsome Demons arrayed behind the pair.

"Time to go," an all too familiar voice whispered in Heath's ear before he felt an arm seize his collar and drag him back. Craning his neck, Heath saw that Goremand, who'd appeared seemingly (or, perhaps, quite literally) from nowhere and had grabbed him from behind. Realizing his "caretaker's" intent, Heath struggled but was inexorably pulled towards the northern wall, a portal opening before him. "C'mon! There's nothing more for us here!"

"We can't just leave these people!" Heath protested, struggling against the jester's grip. But, unfortunately, despite his thin limbs, Goremand had impressive strength. "Let go of me!"

"Fat chance!" the jester responded, nearing the portal. "See ya, toots! I'll be sure to tell the Master all about you!" he grinned, then leaped into the swirling vortex of darkness, dragging Heath with him. Then, they both disappeared.

Once the priest and jester were gone, Belladonna gazed upon the three humans left, hopelessly outnumbered by her hellspawn. She then raised her hand, a red glow suffusing her fingers. Then, before anyone could react, she shot out a beam at the restrained Flamekhan, the blast splitting apart in what looked to be flower petals. Was it some magic? Elliot and Jessica wondered. Then, before their eyes, the older man fell unconscious, the flower petals disappearing into nothingness.

"Father!" Jessica cried out, but this time her father did not even stir. She turned to glare at Belladonna, yet the woman flicked a single finger in her direction before she could speak.

The young woman flinched, expecting the worst, but instead, she felt the choker around her neck begin to loosen. Then, to her surprise, it broke! Down the center, it split, falling off her neck and to the ground. The once beautiful but deadly piece of jewelry began to rust, and the jewel grew dull and cracked. It soon, and rather fittingly, resembled a hideous, twisted thing that no one would wear. Despite this unexpected turn of events, neither Jessica nor Elliot doubted that Belladonna was not happy that they'd tried to escape, nor was she thrilled about the intruder who had infiltrated her domain and then slipped her grasp.

"Malocchio," Belladonna said, the vampire's eyes centered on Jessica. "She's all yours."

Elliot, his eyes widening with horrified realization, nonetheless tried to step in. But, he couldn't have hoped to have been fast enough. As soon as the woman spoke, the undead fiend flew forward and seized Jessica, the young woman writhing frantically in his grasp, all too aware of his intent and desperate to escape. It was then that she realized why Belladonna had freed her from the curse of the choker.

It was because her usefulness had ended.

That grim realization was confirmed when she felt the creature's fangs pierce her throat.

"JESSICA!" Elliot cried out, running over to the vampire feeding on his still struggling victim, but her writhing and flailing blows grew weaker and weaker as she was drained of blood. "Leave her alone!"

He began pounding his fists on the legs of the taller being but was brushed away, landing hard on his back. Then, he became aware that Belladonna was standing over him. Jessica had gone limp in Malocchio's grasp and, grinning like a cream-sated tabby, he then carried the young woman out of the room, leaving Elliot alone with Belladonna and her Demons.

"As for you," she said, her tone quite irritated. Then, she reached out to grab the unfortunate Prince by the hair. "You're coming with me."

Note: Special thanks to Falchion1984 for co-writing and editing! I hope to hear from you all soon!