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9/2/2025 20:57:49

roseleaf320
Creative!

Something about this beast is wrong.

As Marrow sprints across the arena, xe tracks its body in the side of xyr vision. It is still— almost impossibly so— the quills on its back raised like a hissing cat. The hunter pauses xyr breath, pulling xyr cape in to stop its flap.The beast is like a deer standing frozen after hearing a noise, deciding whether to run.

But when the beast makes its decision, the deer becomes… something else. Marrow catches the moment its eyes lock on xyr form, and it is like something dead has snapped to life, bones jerking into movement with impossible speed. Xe finds xyr own eyes snapping to the creature, abandoning the silver gleam in the sands. Its head follows the hunter’s movement with perfect smoothness, pulled by an invisible string, its pupils wide.

The hunter has only enough time to feel the liquid-hot instinct rising in xyr stomach-- to name it fear-- before the beast charges.

Electricity crackles under its visceral shriek as it runs, two limbs bounding faster than Marrow could ever hope to match. The hunter stays low to the ground and shoves Light’s gift in the berry pouch at xyr collarbone, barely missed by the beast’s earlier tear. Not yet. Each star in Night’s sky was intentional, painted tales and thoughts for the living to see. The Light’s glass surface makes it clear: Marrow has one chance to place xyrs, and it must count.

Xyr prey raises a claw as it tears towards xem, its curve almost dark in Marrow’s view, backlit by the sun’s gaze. Marrow digs the fingers of xyr right hand into the sands and pushes forwards, gritting xyr teeth as the tear on xyr shoulder stings in protest. The claw sweeps over xyr head, its movement fluttering the ends of the Paragon’s hair as xe slides under the beast’s body. Let’s see if this slows it down. Xe reaches to xyr side for a dagger, hoping to catch the beast’s ankle and bring it to a hobble. But the twist sends a surge of pain through xyr waist, its path curling across xyr stomach and up xyr side to trace the broken root beneath. Marrow lets out a yelp and skids from beneath xyr prey, xyr fingers never even making it to the dagger’s hilt. How far did your damned roots spread? Marrow curses, knowing xe may as well be yelling at a boulder.

Too far, Marrow answers for Ulvenne. How much of you is even human, and how much has turned to root?

Marrow plants a foot, spins to face xyr prey again-- and nearly chokes as the beast’s tail smashes into xyr back. Spine-root shatters as the tail's sharp tip slashes clean through it. Pain, flaming hot, courses up Marrow’s neck and down xyr tailbone, a swarm of fire ants bursting from a log as it’s peeled open. Dead wood digs into skin, deeper, deeper, and Marrow shrieks as xe is flung like a toy across the sands. Fragile. Fallible. Not enough. Xe didn’t even get a knife out of its rotten sheath. Xyr body skids to a halt in the sands, and perhaps the beast will kill xem now, as it should. Marrow closes xyr eyes and sobs in agony, for the pain and for xyr failure, for the dark, empty loneliness where Ulvenne should be. Spine and liver root fill xem like parasites, huge masses that should belong but don’t, eating and eating. They are swaths of void in Marrow’s body where xyr heartbeat just dies. Heart and neck will follow soon, the scent of their rot already consuming Marrow’s senses, withering like blighted ferns. Marrow wails, and it is as if the Earth itself wails with xem, mourning its loss. Marrow has ruined everything. Kill Ulvenne? What was xe thinking? The People of Ulve would die without him, and now Marrow gets to be first, alone and shattered by the very thing that used to caress xem, because xe has betrayed him.

“And so has favor been withdrawn from Drakesthai Morian, Paragon of Earth."

What?

The scent of rot fades, and Marrow realizes it was not from xyr roots but from Earth itself, withdrawing. Leaving its Chosen, while Night remained. With Marrow.

Darkness’ Chosen blinks away mud-stained tears to find Earth’s amidst the battlefield. The man with more metal than Ulve’s entire forest. He teeters, barely standing, against Radiance. Marrow recognizes the crimson that floods from his stomach, its glint ugly and dark in the sunlight as it rushes to take its place on the sands. And in Radiance’s hand-- barely visible through Marrow’s earthy tears and covered in that same crimson that glints ugly in the light-- is the hunter’s dagger.

He had driven Marrow’s dagger, moonsilver and goldbirch, into Earth’s Favoured-- and Earth had recoiled.

Light’s Favoured needed xyr gift. And it worked.

Marrow brings a hand to xyr Night-painted face, smudging xyr tears aside. The gift of Light, the single star of Marrow’s Night, feels warm in xyr pocket.

It’s about time xe lit it.

Xyr crossbow lies heavy in the sand, only a few paces away. Perhaps luck had brought xem towards it. But as sunlight ripples off the sands, Marrow can almost feel the roots of the forest beneath xem, controlling every little shift. In Ulve, it was never just luck.

Marrow drags xyr body slowly toward the weapon, desperately hoping the beast will not notice xem. Each pull sends waves of agony across xyr broken roots, forcing Marrow to hold down a retch. As silently as xe can, the hunter reaches into the pocket by xyr collar.

The beast sees Marrow. Its eyes lock, just as before, an unsettling, unmoving pinpoint aim. It barrels towards xem like a rockslide; but this time, Marrow is faster.

Just a single spark.
A fraction of their power.

That’s all the hunter needs to light a blaze.

A flick of xyr wrist sends Light’s gift flying from its pouch into the air. Fingers lock around xyr crossbow and heft it towards the gift as xyr freed hand grasps frantically at a dagger. The beast’s hot breath fills the hunter’s nose with the stench of lightning. But instead of flinching, Marrow does the first thing xe teaches velvets not to. Marrow closes xyr eyes.

Glass shatters into broken, discordant notes. Dark’s Paragon watches xyr own thin veins backlit through xyr eyelids as the world fills with light. Xe reaches xyr arm out blindly, goldbirch and fingers like a single limb, and slashes down with the fierceness of a cornered animal. And as the Night’s Chosen attacks, shoulder and spine burning, xe holds xyr breath for xyr star’s verdict.

What could I do with just a little bit of god power?

Anything.

Flesh parts under the hunter’s blade, the scream of Energy’s beast rumbling under its skin before it reaches xyr ears. Marrow’s eyes open to a burst of bright red, blood streaming down the beast’s thigh onto Marrow’s fingers. Triumph surges through xem and xe twists, pulls, and rips the knife from the beast. Humans are fallible, but in this moment, Marrow is not human, xe is Night’s Favoured, Ulvenne’s beloved, Light’s gifted, and a killer. The Paragon feels it surging through xem, numbing xyr wounds, heightening xyr senses. It raises Marrow’s injured arm, dagger pointed towards xyr prey’s exposed throat. As a searing burn drills through xyr shoulderblade, it keeps xyr grip solid, xyr footing stable, and turns the worst of the pain into a numb prickling buzz. The Paragon lowers xyr arm and turns xyr head towards this new assailant. And when xe sees Radiance, battered and lying prone on the sands, the power pulls xyr first thoughts from hatred to laughter.

What, was I taking your god’s glory away from you?

“Can’t let me get the kill myself, Radiance?” Xe calls, voice lilting like an injured bird. Xe can barely even hear xemself over the beast as it howls-- I’ll cut your vocal cords, next, fiend-- and the buzzing that blazes in xyr ears from within.

God-power. Marrow doesn’t need the Lords to kill Ulvenne, or the cursed wolves that plague xyr clan. Xe just needs enough power to do it xemself.

Post #: 26

9/3/2025 21:26:27

Starflame13
Moderator

The acrid tang of ozone, of the breath of sharp stillness preceding a storm, subsumed the air of the Arena. Hair stood on end as sparks danced across glass, the Pillar of Energy coming alive with static. Smooth, lacquered surface glowed as the lightning at the woman's temples crawled downwards, curling itself around her like a rippling cloak. Her head tilted back to let lose a roar, the beast-like call splitting a spider web of fissures just beneath the surface of her form. It held for a single moment - then lightning split the sky to crash into her extended hand, pieces of class shattering and cascading downwards in a cacophony to accompany the resounding echoes of thunderous boom and furious cry alike.

“And so has favor been withdrawn from Zephyra, Paragon of Energy.” Their voices rumbled low and deep, reminiscent of a squall observed from far away. “The Pillar of Energy has shattered - and we now bear witness to her choice, and to her Lord's rage.” Alone intact, bone-white fangs plunged to bite deep into the crimson sands below, surrounded by shards and fragments now sparkling against the Arena sands.

< Message edited by Starflame13 -- 9/5/2025 22:27:25 >

AQW

Post #: 27

9/4/2025 13:17:21

kavyraya
Member

As the bass leaves my throat, the world still remains beyond white. The flash peeled the world out of my skull and left nothing behind. Just heat. Just ringing.

I’m crouched, twitching, tasting my own blood in my life as the buzz trickles out of my serpentine body. My claws scrabble for meaning. My leg is wet and hot with pain. My eyes are useless.

But the air?

The air sings.

The current shifts – small tremors across my spine, too soft to hear, but loud to me. He’s moving slower, maybe not even moving at all from the sands. Wounded. Trying to be quiet. My maw twists into an ugly grin.

The sand betrays every little motion here.

And I feel the buzz of his nervous system. The weak static that lives inside him. It skips, broken– shoulder click, breath hitch, foot drag.

I don’t need to see. I know him. And I’m done waiting.

OVERRIDE.

The word isn’t spoken. It’s carved into the base of my skull, burned into muscle memory. It hits like pulling a trigger buried in my spine. It’s not a feeling– it’s a detonation.

My spine flares, sending a surge down my limbs. My quills stiffen. The armored plates hiss and lock tight against my spine.

My whole body snaps forward – push– lunge. I feel it deep in my spine. The click.

Muscles coil, then fire. Joints click smoother than they ever have.

Pain? Slows.
Noise Gone.
Time? Stretches.

I move.

Not like before– this isn’t instinct alone now. This is pure precision, pure speed, like lightning finding the shortest path to the ground. My wounded leg screams but it obeys. Everything obeys.

For two– maybe three heartbeats, I’m not thinking. I’m just fast enough.

I can hear his heartbeat now.

I can feel it jump as he senses me coming.

And I am already there. I pounce before he can turn or move away. The pads of my hindclaws hit him hard. This old man flattens further into the sand. His weapon swings uselessly against my snout– but I’m too charged up to care; I’m the one over them, they’re the one under me. Pain spikes through my wounded leg, but I don’t stop. I won’t stop. I feel the panic through his nervous system.

I dig my claws in– not to tear, just to hold. To be close. Close enough.

”You will activate the burst only on command–” “Again, Zephyra. You just burned the wall. Try it again.” “You don’t get rest until you learn to discharge and recover on your own. And I know you can understand me. Get up!”

I remember.

The lab. The screams. The seizures. ”Again, Zephyra.”

I remembered how the lights overhead burned cold. The floor always smelled like metal and antiseptic and blood that had dried too long. ”You fired too soon. You wasted it.” I was on my side, twitching. Electricity still in my bones. My lungs wouldn’t fill right. My claws wouldn’t close. “You’re supposed to shock on target, not the wall behind it. You were two meters off.” I hissed. I think I growled. Maybe whimpered. They didn’t care. I remember my spine overheating, the pain like acid under my skin. I’d shocked the wrong target– again– and collapsed. They didn’t come to help me. They just watched. ”Recovery window is still too long. You want to lie there like a broken fuse while they put a bullet through your skull?”

I didn’t understand all the words. But I knew what failure felt like. I knew what came after failure. Cold pads. Straps. More needles. I remember being scared of the sound my spine made when I discharged wrong. The high whine that came before the heat. The static that lingered like poison.

I remember not wanting to scream, but screaming again. And the way they always said, ”Good. Now again." I remember the way they shocked me until I got it right–

The sounds of the arena flood back into my hearing. I breathe hard. Chest rising, falling. The world seemed to shake with my pulse– sharp, bright, wrong. Everything hurts.

The weight of my body pins the old man below me, but my body seems to quiet. Too still. My remaining claw twitches, spent. Smoke curls from the vents along my back, tinged with the scent of hot metal and blood and burning sand. My muscles tremble.

No more overdrive. No more override. No more anything.

I am empty.

The air changes. Shivers crawl along my hide. The taste of the storm comes– ozone. Power. But not mine.

I lift my head, slow. My eyes catch movement– not prey, not foe– something that happened to the other pillars. It is alive, glowing like heat-glass just before it cracks. The woman with the fangs on her neck. I smell the stone and the currents. Electricity rides her shape like a second skin, and when the scream comes, I flinch.

That sound.

The roar splits the air like talons through flesh. The ground trembles. My quills bristle as light splits the already-bright sky, crashes down, and strikes her. It blinds. Deafens. Glass rains down around her like broken stars, hissing against the sand. Then–

”And so has favor been withdrawn from Zephyra, Paragon of Energy.”

I freeze.

I don’t understand the words– not all. But I know my name. Zephyra. It booms through my skull like a million speaker-boxes crackling all at once.

”The Pillar of Energy has shattered–”

I don’t know what that means.

–and we now bear witness to her choice, and to her Lord’s rage.”

A sharp sound tears from my throat. Half snarl, half cry, head lowering down to the old man and gnashing my teeth so close to their sagging flesh.

But I look to the sky. There is no Lord there. Only clouds, scorched and twisted, weeping broken lightning across the arena in response of the pillar cracking to a thousand pieces. The sand glows golden mockingly beneath me.

Am I bad?

I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did wrong. My claws curl into the old man’s feeble body, just gripping, not scraping, holding– while I feel the electricity within me hush down to a discordant whine, almost leaving nothing left but a tiny spark that makes my heart race. It hurts inside– not just the tiredness now. Not just the pain in my legs, my back, the sparks sputtering uselessly from my spine.

It hurts in the place where I feel.

Why did they say my name? Why did they take it away?

I make a sound: high, keening. I don’t mean to. It just happens. My jaws tremble, still stained with the heat of the battle. The vents on my back hiss softly as the last of my power fades. My tail thumps once against the grit.

A shadow falls across me, long and jagged, cast by the shattered figure in the center of the storm.

I was good. I tried to be good.

Didn’t I?

I step off the old man. My muscles twitch again, spasming with the last echoes of overdrive. Smoke curls from the vents along my back. My claws, remaining three, dig into the sands unsteady. I shake my head, trying to clear it. Sparks flicker one last time across my spine, faint. Weak. I don’t want to fight anymore.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

Blurred shapes dance within my vision… But it is returning. It goes wide, narrow, wide again. The light is different. Maybe I’m more hurt than I realize, I think. Why is the light softer? Something in the air changes. Not danger, not anger. Something else.

Then– I hear it.

Not a growl. Not commands barked from handlers, sharp and cold. Not the roar of storm or steel. A voice. A voice that feels like a small, strong hand against all my wounds.

”You can go home now, little reptile.”

My head snaps towards the sound, beyond the jagged pieces of pillar left. No one moves. I couldn’t even hear the shouts anymore. But the voice is there– in me. Little words I understand, more so feelings. Warm. Safe. Calling.

I stare. Where the pillar stood, now broken and crackling with fading light, something new has opened. A gate. Not made of bars or shock-grids. Not the heavy slam of the containment walls. This one is … different.

It looks like a cave. Dark. Curved. Stone and shadow and safety.

A memory claws up from somewhere deep.

I remember curling in tight spaces. Cool, damp walls pressing around me like a shell. No lights. No voices. Only the low hum of the world and the gentle flicker of electricity rolling off my back, my tail curled around until my snout. I remember hiding there after long days. Days of drills. Days of pain. Of shock-collars and noise and anger I didn’t understand.

Caves were quiet.

Caves were mine.

My foot lifts, uncertain. My claws twitch. I look back at the arena, at the cool, calculated faces of Brown Cloak and old man. Sands. Blood. Smoke. Judgment.

Then forward– to the cave. To the dark. To the voice that said home.

I step.

My muscles tense– waiting for the buzz of a shock baton, the sting of punishment.

But nothing comes.

I step again.

And again.

And something inside me changes. The confusion doesn’t vanish– but it melts, just a little. A tremble shakes my chest. My lips pull back– not in a snarl. In something… something else. My claws gallop faster now, kicking up sand. My tail twitches behind me even if I’m still trying to balance my three remaining limbs.

A sound bubbles up from my throat, high and strange.

Joy.

I’m sprinting now. I don’t look back. I don’t care who watches. I don’t care if they understand.

Because I understand.

The cool shadow is a balm against my aching wounds as I fly into the darkness. I am going home.

Post #: 28

9/7/2025 20:04:20

Chewy905

Chromatic ArchKnight of RP

This may be Lumira’s final Song.

Radiance has no way of knowing if mortality shall strip her of her magic. It would be a cruelty. To deny the world this gift, to deny all sound its most beautiful tone. To deny Her such a precious talent. But he must. To keep her alive, to keep them together, to adventure through life’s past and present and future as one. So he must enjoy this final encore to its fullest.

He drinks in the light, the music, both twining into the brightest of blessings upon his senses. His sharp eyes watch the raptor’s claw melts away before its perfection. His sharp ears hear the pain and awestruck terror that echoes straight from the beast’s soul into their bellowing roar. The hunter shouts something Radiance’s way, but xyr voice is swallowed by Zephyra’s fury and Lumira’s curtain call. Still, the look on Marrow’s face speaks volumes; a giddy smile, unfit for the circumstances, dark eyes lit up like fireworks. Adrenaline alone fuels the hunter’s fire, driving xem to chaos. Radiance’s eyes flick anxiously between hunter and prey. The hunter needs to focus! Xe must slay the beast, before-

Sharp claws grip tight upon his shoulders. His form presses deep into the sands, a cloud of crimson rising up from the raptor’s sudden, explosive arrival. He desperately turns his face aside, trying to keep his mouth above the grains as the beast above forces him even harder into the earth. A tired arm swings Song blindly upwards, only managing to elicit a small clang as the rifle strikes futilely against scale and steel. The claws grip tighter. He scrambles at his side, but can’t reach Grace, can’t reach Marrow’s knife. Ozone slips bitter onto his lips. A new tune bears down upon the arena: the crackles of dancing air and flickering storms. It twists, bends, curls. It will snap, soon. He knows it. And once it does, Lumira’s future will snap with it. Every muscle in his body shall dance to its tune until exhaustion bids them dance no more.

Snap.

Radiance shuts his eyes and screams his throat hoarse in defiance of the sky’s judgement. Yet no lightning strikes his form. The criers rumble like thunder in the distance; a storm rolling out to sea.

“And so has favor been withdrawn from Zephyra, Paragon of Energy. The Pillar of Energy has shattered, and we now bear witness to her choice, and her Lord’s rage.”

Zephyra bolts up straight like a disciplined pet. Her head turns as if answering a call unspoken. Radiance sits still, muscles blessedly obeying the command to not move an inch. The raptor must make her choice, and he wishes it not to be driven by instinct or fear. She steps off him once, then again, and then she’s gone, as swiftly as she arrived. A breath Radiance didn’t know he was holding escapes from tired, aching lungs. He rolls to one side and tries to rise. His muscles refuse, content to stay grounded. He plants Song into the sand and leans upon it, imagining it to be Lumira at his side, pulling her battered partner from the sands. Her love pulls him to his feet, but still he clings too tightly, as if he could pull her down right now, drag her into his arms and curl into slumber together.

Later, Radiance. Slay the Dark.

He hobbles forwards, an old man and his cane leaving three prints in the sands. He can see the benefit in such a tool; his unsteady steps have molded to certain strides, his trembling mind sharpened to sheer focus. But he will need no such prop when this is over; he shall stride with the hunter’s youth, and when that fades Lumira shall be all the support he needs.

And you, Hers, Radiance. Until Time takes you both.

Marrow stands before him, crossbow armed yet aimed at the earth below. Xyr voice cuts through the silence as xe gestures at Radiance with one hand.

“If my own silver finds my flesh, Radiance, I will ensure you never see even the dimmest light again.”

Radiance glances at the knife in his hand, stained with crimson and gold alike. A small smile plays across his face as his hand re-enacts the twisting of the blade into Earth’s chest. He will visit a smithy after this. Lumira would certainly love to learn with him; the rush of a marred blade. He calls back to Dark’s Paragon.

“Ah but of course. I’m no Reaper, and even he wished not to keep this steel.”

He tosses it into the sands between, trying to imitate the way Marrow had struck it tip-first deep into the grains. Yet it is still too light, and fits not the mold of his hand as it leaves: its handle hits the ground first and it topples and skids to an inelegant stop. Marrow kneels down and rescues the blade from its failure. He can see the tremble in xyr legs, the hitch in xyr breath. Both hunter and hero are breaking, bit by bit. Radiance sighs and leans heavy on Song, slipping his final Luster from his belt and rolling the small orb between his fingers.

“It bit deep, a fine gift indeed. I trust my Love’s Light guided you equally true?” The praise brings his Luster to a glow as he holds it to the sun, admiring the light that plays through the glass.

“Something like that.” The hunter tilts xyr head, a frown playing on xyr lips. “You love them, then?”

Love. He’s spoken that word to Her more times than any other.

“I would pluck divinity itself from the heavens, for her sake.” The Reaper’s own steely tone slips into Radiance’s voice, surprising himself.

The hunter’s night-shrouded eyes squint in response, as if digging into the hero for an answer xe cannot find. When xe speaks xyr voice rests on each word, tasting them out one by one. “You’d need a boon for that.”

Indeed. Radiance smirks, sweeping one arm out, gesturing to the sands, the sun, the fallen pillars and the final two monuments of Light and Dark. “And thus comes our dilemma.”

Marrow shifts, turning the dagger about xyr hand. Night-blessed eyes harden, and conviction breaks from xem like a shattering stone. “Sounds like we’re both trying to defy the gods.”

Bitter doubt bites down upon Radiance’s heart. Before he can dismiss it, Marrow’s hand flicks out like a lashing serpent. Xyr silvered gift cuts through the air, eager to return to the hero. He shifts slightly, even that simple motion straining his muscles. It’s enough; the blade stings against his neck and carves through the remnants of his scarf, but sails onwards uninhibited.

“My boon shall be no defiance.” He spits out his reply, vitriol seeping in despite his efforts to keep it buried. The words must be true. There can be no future where Lumira refuses the answer he’s found. To believe such a fate is possible would be to let Dark’s silver pierce his throat.

He lacks the swiftness to charge the hunter, so instead Radiance shifts his stance back and braces for xyr approach. Marrow leaps towards him like a wounded animal. Xyr eyes lock onto Radiance’s side, crossbow poised like a cudgel. The hunter’s youth grants xem swiftness and strength the elder lacks. Nay; he possesses them, they’re merely locked behind the light in his grasp. His tired hand cannot break the Luster’s seal…

But Marrow’s can.

He throws an arm wildly at the oncoming crossbow, palm out, his Love’s last Luster presented like the finest of treasures. The dark wood of the weapon greets glass and bone, shattering both with a sickening crack. The world before his eyes erupts into beauteous white, while every sense within him explodes into red hot agony. His hand shatters in the wrong direction, fingers splaying out like disobedient pets on leashes, each desperate to run its own way. Hunter and hero curse together, words slung for burnt eyes and broken bones. Lightning pain shoots through his soul, its companion glow dragging the final lingering drop of youth into his remaining limbs. His eyes sharpen to find the flickering shape of the hunter through the suffocating fog of pain and fatigue. Cane-Song swings out from a stubborn arm, dipping low to crack against Marrow’s leg.

With his support lost, Radiance stumbles forwards. He grits his teeth and turns his body aside, forcing all his strength into his legs as he kicks off the ground to turn his stumble into a slam. His shoulder collides with the hunter—he knows not if it struck chin, throat, or collar— and his weight lurches onwards. Song falls to the ground as Radiance draws Grace with his only working hand. His momentum seizes at once, his whole body supported by a heavy weight pressed sharply against his gut. Grace thrusts out, its barrel ceasing against something tougher than cloth and harder than flesh.

The two stop, nothing but breath and heartbeat pounding in Radiance’s ears. He can barely see Marrow’s crossbow at xyr side, bolt nocked, tip pressed to a Reaper-cut breach in his armor. He can faintly see his trembling arm extended, Grace primed, barrel pressed to an odd bulk beneath Marrow’s shirt. Whatever it is, it won’t matter. This devotion, built by mortal hands, blessed by divine Light, and reforged by the thinning line between the two, shall pierce through it. And when Radiance next meets Lumira, they shall be mortal together. Ah, no fate could be more divine.

His hand shakes.

Let this be the final time, Radiance.

Click.

Post #: 29

9/7/2025 20:14:46

roseleaf320
Creative!

Night’s Favoured stills as the beast’s scaled snout whips towards its new assailant. The creature shrieks again-- its always shrieking-- and lightning crackles in its vocal cords, stinging Marrow’s eardrums. Xyr fingers are wrapped firmly around xyr blood-bathed dagger, but xe simply watches as the beast dashes towards its foe, a trail of blood dripping in its wake. Radiance had interrupted the Night-Chosen’s hunt. If that drew the beast’s attention, it is Radiance’s mistake.

The negligence is, truthfully, less out of spite and more from the numbness that is quickly taking hold of Marrow’s limbs. Even wiping the blade on xyr pantleg takes an uncomfortable amount of effort, the twist of xyr wrist sending a crackling line down xyr shoulderblade. Marrow grits xyr teeth and ignores it, breath still racing, eyes locked onto xyr prey as it pounces on the elder. Try all you want, fiend, the hunter’s voice snarls in xyr thoughts, echoing through the caverns of xyr mind like Ulvenne’s does. You are an animal, Favour or not, and you will die like one. The Paragon of Darkness raises xyr crossbow to xyr shoulder, knuckles white with xyr grip. It takes all xyr strength to draw the string back, limbs shaking as xe forces the lever down before xe hears it click. Marrow is Favoured twice over. This should be simple. This shot is simple. Xe grabs a bolt from xyr quiver and slips it into place, eyes locked onto the beast’s spine, where neck gives way to armored back. The spot xe missed with xyr dagger.

Let this creature’s death be writ in silver and Darkness.

Marrow forces xyr breathing to a ragged slow; inhales-- pauses. Xyr lungs fill with the scent of a storm; of air the breath before lightning strikes. A roar radiates through the arena-- not xyr prey’s, but close-- and Marrow tears xyr eyes from xyr prey in time to watch the blinding flash of lightning that shatters Energy’s Pillar. Marrow feels its clap in xyr roots, in xyr bones as xe stands, breath hitched, frozen. Energy has withdrawn.

What next, little beast, now that your god has hollowed you?

Is an animal even capable of feeling such things? Rose-gold stares unblinking at its forelimbs, each muscle startled into silence by the thunderclap. The criers voices do not deter xyr crossbow, still trained on the beast’s back. Waiting for it to attack or run. Xe watches as the beast takes one step-- two-- testing, assessing, a deer listening for the whispers of a predator. And then, just like a deer, it bolts.

The hunter lets out a huff, relaxing xyr crossbow a half-width. A touch of disappointment arcs across xyr pursed lips. Xe had thought the beast unnatural, as if built from the same unknown curse as Ulve’s new werewolves. But in the end, it was just a beast. Better to let it flee than to become distracted from the real fight.

Its absence leaves only one foe remaining.

Marrow’s gaze locks onto Radiance, lying prone in the sands perhaps thirty feet away. The last Favoured left unemptied. The hunter raises xyr crossbow and points it at the man’s skull. An easy shot; a quick kill. Then the last prey between Marrow and enough power to slay god and wolf alike would be gone.

If you had that power… what kind of god would you be?

The voice rises unbidden in Marrow’s mind, childlike, a past echo xe does not remember. Ulvenne’s? Or a discussion Marrow had had as a child and forgotten? Or… just a thought, worming its way through the Paragon’s fraying adrenaline. It gives xem pause, rests xyr unmoving finger on the trigger as Light’s Chosen tries to stand. If Marrow wins this, receives the unrestricted power xe wants… what would stop xem from hungering for more?

The memory of Ulvenne’s quiet, sly voice curls Marrow’s nose. I am killer, protector, creator. You need nothing else.

The thought needs time, at least. Marrow knows it would cause more worry were xe more intact, but xe can feel the stutter of xyr breath, the pulsing ache flooding xyr muscles where numbness has faded. Xe is too hollow for even worry, now.

But xe knows, at least, that xe is a hunter; not a vulture. And an elder deserves a great deal more respect than a beast. So the hunter lowers xyr crossbow, xyr eyes not leaving Radiance’s hands as he rises. His movements are shaky, his feet unsteady, as he presses the longest of his weapons into the sands for stability. Marrow’s grandfather walked like that. His Ironwood cane had been one of his proudest carvings.

My people. My duty is to save my people.

The elder steps towards xem, his pace steadying as he finds his balance. Silver hair shifts as Marrow tilts xyr head, gaze falling to the weapon still dripping crimson in Radiance’s hand. Ruin’s voice echoes again in Marrow’s mind. I knew then it was meant for you.

Marrow lifts a hand from xyr crossbow and opens xyr palm towards the knife. Xyr voice comes out harsh, almost scathing, though xe hadn’t felt the emotion rise. “If my own silver finds my flesh, Radiance, I will ensure you never see even the dimmest light again.” To never lay eyes on your god, even from afar, even in death. In the moment, it is the worst threat the Paragon can think of.

The shattered roots within xem pang, and a bit of Marrow shrivels.

The elder looks down at the knife as if he hadn’t even realized he was still holding it. He smiles like Marrow remembers all the elders smiling after successful hunts; like each is a novelty, a small pocket of joy, even though they’d done the same a thousand times before. Why did this man have to be so much like Marrow’s?

“Ah but of course. I’m no Reaper, and even he wished not to keep this steel.” Radiance tosses it towards xem, and it flops into the sands and skids, landing a pace or two in front of xem. Good try. Marrow nods and drops to xyr knees to pick up the weapon, fingers wrapping around drying blood xe did not draw. Even keeping xyr back straight as xe can, xyr spine strains from the movement, the root-filled void seeming to grow larger with every pulse of Marrow’s heart. “It bit deep, a fine gift indeed. I trust my Love’s Light guided you equally true?”

“Something like that,” Marrow responds to Light’s Favoured, the shift of xyr head bearing a hint of dissatisfaction. The gift had helped xem find the beast’s leg, that much was true. It had filled xem with such clarity, such triumph, such power. Xyr thoughts echo back to xem, bearing the pitch of Marrow and the booming power of Ulvenne. Anything.

Anything feels further away with each haggard breath. Xe hears the same fatigue in Light’s Chosen as he leans heavy on his cane, gaze considering another bottle of light. Neither of them will last much longer.

Xe should quit stalling; a fight is no time to talk. But… this might be the last time Marrow meets someone else god-blessed. And as Radiance’s words repeat themselves in the Chosen’s mind, Marrow realizes something.

My Love’s.

So he is like Marrow.

Marrow asked, only once, what would happen if xe wanted children. Being Favoured changed xyr pronouns and titles, xyr sense of self, but it did not change xyr biology, and such wants should theoretically be possible. Ulvenne had responded with the pattering of small feet on the dirt, the laughter of young velvets as they tumbled on the grass. All of Ulve’s children are ours.

It hadn’t been what Marrow meant, but xe didn’t ask again. Ulvenne was always enough.

“You love them, then?” The words lift from the Favoured’s lips reluctantly. Xe doesn’t need the confirmation; Radiance had just said as much. But Marrow is hoping xe’ll see…

Loneliness. Loving the god of Ulve’s roots had been so full, and so lonely.

This was ridiculous. Xe couldn’t kill Ulvenne.

Marrow feels a small bud of hope die within xem as Radiance answers. The Paragon of Light’s voice betrays no loneliness; only a determination chiseled stronger by his years. Xe is alone even among Favoured. "I would pluck divinity itself from the heavens, for her sake."

Pluck… divinity… itself?

Marrow furrows xyr brows, confusion inking out xyr sadness. Could Radiance… do that? Take godhood from a god?

Ah. That’s why he’s here.

“You’d need a boon for that.” Marrow squints, xyr mind feeling like a sluggish frog in the mud, pain and fatigue rendering most thought inaccessible.

Radiance gestures to the sands around them, empty save for themselves, their Pillars, and the remnants of the rest. “And thus comes our dilemma.”

There’s the thought. It flickers just behind xyr eyes, a gentle tickle that threatens to flee if left to wait. Marrow reaches out and grasps it, like catching a leaf from the winds, and xyr heart soars and drops in time. It is a stupid thought, for there are far simpler answers, far better ways to save xyr people, but in this one, xe might not feel so empty.

Get a little bit of extra power-- just enough to take care of the cursed werewolves-- and bind Ulvenne to xem. To xyr control. It would be xyr power, xyr whispers in the minds of xyr people. No more tricks for power, no more begging for faith where it is not due, no more tying xyr people to root like a leash. It’s not perfect-- there are so many things Marrow still doesn't understand-- but it could work.

The fire that lights within Marrow’s heart is not a blaze, like before; not the numbness of adrenaline that will putter out and leave xem bereft. But it is steady, and fed by root. The Paragon nods to Radiance and shifts xyr grip on xyr dagger ever so slightly; so it may be thrown.

“Sounds like we’re both trying to defy the gods.”

With a flick, Marrow sends the gift flying towards Radiance, aimed high. His center of mass is too well-guarded, and the rips in his armor reveal roots of gold Marrow suspects would not be scathed. So the dagger’s tip instead points towards his neck, where thick armor gives way to the tattered remains of a thin cloth scarf. The elder shifts sideways, so the blade soars behind him into the sands. His voice practically spits as it leaves his lips, calm stalwartness replaced with thinly-veiled venom. "My boon shall be no defiance." The intonation betrays no wound, no hint to whether Night’s Chosen found vein. But Marrow heard the rip of cloth, saw the shimmer of golden blood on the knife’s silver as it flew. Radiance is slow.

Marrow leaps towards the elder, spine screaming in protest, and hefts xyr still-loaded crossbow in xyr right hand. Xe lets xyr left fall limp at xyr waist, burn and claw surrounding the shoulder in a sear that grows more excruciating with each heartbeat. With a grunt, xe swings the crossbow like a tree trunk at Radiance’s waist. Xe only needs one good bash to get the elder to his knees. Marrow feels the crossbow connect, hears bones breaking under its strength. No, something else, too, that familiar chime of glass--

Marrow tries to turn aside, to shut xyr eyes. Xe’s not fast enough. The Light bottle shatters, and the noonday sun seems like a faint star in comparison to the brilliance that bursts forth from its remains. “Rot!” The curse slips from Marrow’s lips alongside a deeper growl as Radiance’s voice echoes something similar. Xe’d seen Radiance holding that bottle earlier: xe should have been ready for this. If xe could control even the Night on xyr face xe could’ve shielded xyr vision with Night’s shroud. Marrow reaches for a dagger, rapidly trying to blink the light away from xyr vision, when something snaps into xyr lower leg. Xe steps back, pain cracking up xyr bone as xyr foot slams into the sands. Xe barely takes a breath before the man’s entire weight crashes into xyr chest, and Marrow lets out a choking cough. Xyr feet scramble on sand, so far from the dirt of Ulve, as the Paragon desperately tries to keep xemself from toppling into it again. Xe points xyr crossbow in front of xem like a prod, and for a moment, the weight on xyr chest lifts, held at bay by xyr weapon. The spots across xyr vision fade just enough to reveal Radiance’s eyes, gold as the roots across his chest, like pinprick, colored stars amidst a pure white night. Xyr crossbow is firmly wedged into his gut, its body pressed against Marrow’s waist for support, steady and smooth. No splinters. Marrow feels the press of Light’s weapon against xyr heart; feels the slightest hint of movement against it, as if the root beneath it is squirming.

Please, Darkness. Give me Ulve’s Night and Root. A single year-- that’s all I need. To untangle my people. To save my love. Then take the power back.

I don’t want to become like him.

Marrow pulls the trigger.

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