Episode 1

Thorn watches Rutcranna carefully. He has come to know the woman's mannerisms and expressions to a degree, but the way she moves and speaks and looks now - it is different. Though her appearance is the same physically (OOC: smokeshow hot), it is as if a different person is within.

But then, Thorn sees Rutcranna look down again. Is she lost in thought? Thinking of something? She seems distracted.

But just as quickly, the moment passes. The bold fire is back in her eyes and she stares at him.

"The mind that you once knew in this vessel is gone. I am The Hierophant, Keeper of the Ulathi, the Herald of Dagan who is God of Azotus. I am the Writer of Secrets, the Sign of One."

Her voice is one of calm, speaking from a position of power, as one who holds all of the cards.

Kray, still floating in the air, makes a small movement. His body tenses. Thorn sees his hand curl in from open to close and then back. And now his hands are shaking slightly. Kray's back is to Thorn, so he cannot see his face. And the sound of grinding stone from the north hall continues, getting louder even, so Thorn cannot hear if Kray may have spoken.

But Thorn does see Rutcranna's eyes cut over to look at Kray. Her lips move, very very slightly. She is saying something, making no sound, barely mouthing words.Rhone sees Kray floating in the air, twitching. The little girl walks away from Doirind, leaving her in the hands of Boann.

Rhone walks several steps forward, stopping in front of the Throne, about 5 or 6 steps away from Rutcranna.

"I do not care who you think you are. I won't let you hurt him. Or anyone else. Let him GO!"

Bryn is snatched up like Kray by the invisible force. His bow is torn from his hand and drops to the floor on the north side of the room.

Bryn floats off of the ground about a foot or two. Quickly he is thrust around to the front of the Throne and now floats beside Kray. He grimaces in pain.

"What do you do, little mouse?", The Hierophant asks calmly to Bryn.

Bryn can hear the question, and sees The Hierophant's fanatical look, but he cannot speak to answer if he wanted to. He is feeling the squeeze.

"Mum, fight!"

Rhone yells out as she braces into a tense stance and lifts her hands in the air in a thrust.

The Hierophant's body surges and her eyes widen in shock. Her spine locks out. Briefly she falters.

But the moment is short lived. The Hierophant raises a hand at Rhone, as if to blast her with the unseen force.

Rhone moves back only briefly, but then she leans her head forward and shoves her hands forward again, aggressively. Her face is set for battle.

"Ahhhhgg!" The Hierophant lets out a small cry of stress or pain. She takes a step back, and looks to be on the brink of stumbling until she resets her feet. The expression on her face changes, to one of surprise and discovery. Her eyebrows curve in, as in shock of a revelation.

The Hierophant shifts her body, takes a step forward, waves her hand in the air softly. "Sleep then, child."

Rhone immediately drops her hands. Her head droops and her shoulders relax. "No," she says, in a groggy voice. Her eyelids are heavy, and now she is shifting down to her knees. "Mum..." she says, as she leans forward and lays down on the floor, closing her eyes.

"Rhone!" Boann yells. The other girls cry out squeals of terror, clinging to each other.

As Rhone lies down calmly, The Hierophant sits down on the Throne. She is trying to make her motions smooth, but her hands are shaking.

Boann moves quickly from Doirind to Rhone. "She's asleep!", she says looking up to Thorn. Her face is gripped in worry. She looks back across the room to Maeriks, and sets a glare of mistrust.

From the Throne, The Hierophant calls out across the room, in the direction of Maeriks. "Enlightened Adept, did you know that this girl is a Mystic?," she is still speaking Dannein. "Come quickly and speak to me. I will decide what to do with these interlopers, and these brood wives must be taken to the chambers below."

Bryn and Kray still float in the air. Neither show signs of being able to move or even speak.

On the floor, Dorind raises her head briefly to look around, tries to raise herself, but is unable to. She lays back down. Struggling to move her head, she scans the room. She makes eye contact with Ivor. He can see that she is in bad shape. Her eyes look longingly to him, as if she would speak.

Thorn notices. A line of blood runs from The Hierophant's nose; she quickly wipes it away.

The sound of heavy grinding stone gets louder.

NOTE UNLOCKED.

Kray can't believe what he is seeing. It can't be real. They died years ago. Anger welled up from deep within... more like a decade old chained fury that had been waiting to be unleashed. And then he saw his daughter's face. And heard Mayenel's voice. The most beautiful voice he had ever heard. Even before he could speak a single word of Gaerimundi her voice was like a song to him. Soothing. It put him at ease, enough to put a stop to the incessant calculations in his mind.

When he heard Mayenel, now, in what he could only assume is a vision of some kind, he also heard his daughter's name. Like the most beautiful song. He felt an unfamiliar feeling filling his chest... one he hadn't felt in what seemed like a lifetime. Was it pride? Joy?

He answered Mayenel. "Cera is a perfect name, my love."

His daughter... a candle of hope flickering in the haunting and tireless winds of Ithaqua all these years? It couldn't be. It wasn't possible. They had died... Mayenel in labor and Cera two days later, sick. Despite the unreal nature of the vision, Kray somehow had hope they were alive.

The pride and joy was gone. In it's place rose welcome friends Kray had known all his life. Fury. Hatred. Vengeance.

And then it was over. The joy, pride, fury, hatred, and vengeance were gone. The sick, black, hollow void had returned where moments earlier had been feeling. It was, without a doubt, the Dark Abyss that Kray had become since his time in Mozamyah.

The methodical machine like calculating resumed. He spoke wordlessly, his pace deliberate and measured.

"You. Showing me the vision. I would know more. If there is any hope my family is alive..."

The machine mind seethed with variables and possible outcomes, almost grinding. Kray knew better than to say what came next. Uncle Rison had schooled him to never say what came next. His own mind screamed warnings at him.

Mayenel and Cera.....

He didn't care.

"Name your price."

NOTE UNLOCKED.

Tears began streaming from Kray's eyes. Then he spoke, in a voice none had ever heard, not even Thorn who he had known for two years. It was a voice full of compassion, warm and generous. Loving. Tender.

"Cera is a perfect name, my love."

Then Kray's hands curled into fists as his arms began to shake, visibly trembling and pushing against some unseen force, as if he was trying to break free. And then it stops. Kray, eyes open and locked with the witch on the throne, is suddenly at ease. Calm. Gazing directly into Rutcranna's eyes.

"Cera", Rutcranna says to Mayenel. "Your husband Lucreides Mercon says that the name you chose for your daughter is the perfect name for her. And you are still his love...and Cera as well."

Mayenel smiles. Tears of joy pour out from the corner of her eyes. She laughs lightly, she whispers to Cera in her arms. The little girl wakes up. Her eyes are bright. She is weak, but she stands. Her mother steadies her before the woman on the Throne.

"Can we see him? Speak with him?" Mayenel asks.

Rutcranna answers, in a soft voice. "No. Not now. I am sorry. I do not have that power. You may see him at the end - I believe so at least."

Mayenel seems to accept the ruling. Understandingly. She is still filled with joy.

A roar. The sound of the wind. Mayenel and Cera look back. Rutcranna shifts her eyes forward, and then back down to Mayenel and Cera.

"You must go. Through the hall behind me. The journey is short now. May you both find a place to rest."

"But,... the Monster?" Mayenel asks.

"Do not worry. The monster will not reach you before you are safe. I assure you of that."

Mayenel takes Cera by the hand. "What about you?," she asks, looking up at Rutcranna.

"Me?," Rutcranna asks in return, maybe a bit surprised. She answers slowly, "My journey comes to an end soon too."

A roar. A cold wind blows through the chamber.

"Go. Do not delay and do not return." Rutcranna says.

"Thank you." Mayenel says. With that she moves forward with purpose, towards the back of the room and the tunnel of light.

As she passes the Throne, hand in hand with her mom, little Cera. Blue eyes. Thick dark hair. Leans towards the Throne and waves up at Rutcranna, "Thank you, Queen of the Stars. Tell my father that I love him."

Rutcranna watches as they pass. She smiles to Cera, "He knows this child. But he hears your voice more now than you would ever know."

Mayenel and Cera make it to the tunnel, and stop briefly. Mayenel bends down to say something to Cera. The girl listens and understands.

Both of them turn around and look all around them, and then settle on a place to focus their attention.

They both send a hand signal, a flowing series of turns and lifts with both hands. It is very graceful and beautiful - the movements. It is like a song. It has been so long since Kray has seen this.

It is a complex gesture of farewell among the Matlalihuitl tribe, given between loved ones who are leaving one another.

Kray knows that there are no Yuoric words that capture the meaning entirely, but if he were to write a translation, it would be this: I am leaving now, but you are with me when I go. You are away from me, but I long for the Day of Reunion. I will travel, but my soul is at home with you.

Both his wife and his daughter are facing directly at him. They complete the sign, turn, and depart down the hall.

Into the light.NOTE UNLOCKED

Now Kray stands in front of the Throne. Rutcranna is there, but no one else. She is standing beside him, on the ground level. She takes his hand so that he can feel that this place is real. It is somewhere else, but it is real.

Kray's family just left, safe in the hall.

There is a wind at his back. Biting cold. He can hear Ithaqua behind him. Scraping, roaring. He can smell the stench of death.

"You could not be here to speak with them. She was too weak and it would have made her falter."

She looks back down the hall towards the monster, over Kray's shoulder.

"He killed them long ago. Killed them to hurt you. Killed them to enjoy the hunt of you more, see you wounded. He had you Marked, but you had gotten away and he could not find you before the wind changed."

She looks at him sincerely and continues, "He wanted to devour their souls, as he did Lysander's. That would have driven you to insanity, and you would have been a great feast for him then."

"But Mayenel has great strength and guile. She took Cera and fled into The Barrens, called Emperor's End, the Realm of Isetnofret. A place of nightmares."

"And there she has lingered every day since, always running. Evading. Enduring. Hiding. I barely was able to find her. What she did for you is legend."

"They have gone to the Final Rest now. You will not see them again, not in this life."

Another roar and cold wind.

"You are still Marked, but I will break that line. His hate for you will still be great, but he will have no claim on you from that day in Mozamyah long ago. You will have freedom, as long as you keep it."

"Mum, fight!" a little voice breaks into the scene, echoing through the chamber. It is Sorcha Rhone's voice. Unmistakable. Rutcranna looks up to the air, and then back to Kray.

"I traveled a great way to save your family, Lucreides Mercon. Yet I cannot save my own. I can only ask that you will."

Rutcranna turns from Kray, takes the single step up, and walks to the Throne. She turns and takes the seat. She looks fitting there.

"She is yours now, Kray."

Rutcranna grips the handles of the Throne tightly, and then releases them. She takes a deep breath. "And Maeriks will want to help her as well. He can help you too. If he needs reminding, let him know that The Heirophant will rarely deny requests from the Adept."

She smiles.

"Keep your head on your shoulders, Mercon."

Kray feels himself fading away. Leaving this place.

As he drifts back, he sees Rutcranna glare down the hallway, towards Ithaqua, The Windwalker.

"Come along then, Wind Fawn," says Rutcranna, brazen, contemptuous. "Come and see that you are the next in a long line of Old Beasts who have been foiled by a Daughter of Eilmay Brogh."

Ithaqua barrels in. The wind rages through. The giant abomination crashes both bone claws onto the Throne.

But Rutcranna has already jumped away. With the grace of a cat, she lands on her feet nearby in a low crouch. She pulls a dagger out from an unseen holster in the small of her back, runs forward, and springs at the towering Monster. With a gleam in her eye.

NOTE UNLOCKED

As Maeriks speaks, some of the Deep Ones, the Ulathi, walk forward. They are the ones who had captured the women. They seem fascinated with Maeriks. They seem ... enthusiastic. And proud.

The Hierophant looks over at Maeriks. She raises a curious eyebrow, and scans him up and down. She looks around as if his words are confusing, but still she listens. Thinking.

"Bring the other women forward. Assemble all of the brood wives here." She points at the area ahead of the Throne, where everyone is grouped up within the circle. "There, put them there. Near The Adept. Listen to him talk."

The great wheel door at the south entrance makes a rumble. It is rolling back! An opening is made at the south entrance, through which everyone friend and foe alike have entered the Throne Room so far.

The wheel barrier stops after a short movement, but allows a spacing big enough for human and Ulathi to move through, perhaps three or four men shoulder to shoulder in width.

"All of them!", the Hierophant shouts. "All of the women. Bring them here I say!" She is interrupting Maeriks. She is looking at him strangely. Then at the women. Does she look confused?

Through the door comes more Ulathi, stepping to it. With them, they carry the other women. Derry, Naohm, and Isibeal are in their arms. These girls are bleeding with injury. It is unclear of whether they are alive or dead. Like Aisling, who is already in the center of the room, Isibeal is visibly pregnant, though again she is not moving and bloody from wounds.

Jilleen and Elva come through the door too. They are walking on their own, but a Deep One grips each of their arms.

Jilleen yells out frantically when she sees the others, "Help! Help me! Please!"

Elva walks silently, looking at the floor. Her hand is lightly on the side of her pregnant belly.

All of the women are brought in to the center.

Sorcha Rhone is on the ground too, with Doirind at her side. These are closer to the Throne, with only Maeriks ahead of them.

Bryn and Kray still float in the air, side by side.

Maeriks is trying to speak. The Deep Ones are eyeing him, and eyeing Doirind all the while.

The Heirophant still seems distracted intermittently. She stares at Kray, as if trying to figure him out.

The grinding sound in the back is louder than ever now. The tone of the sound changes. The Great Stone Cube just emerged, out of the hall, now protruding into the circular room.

It is a great 20' x 20' x 20' perfect cube masterpiece cut block.

It stops just at the edge of the wall, it's back edges married perfectly against the threshold of the hallway. There is still no space to go around it into the hallway. The way is still sealed, and the cube stops moving. Silence. If only the great stone cube door could move only a few more feet forward...or a few feet to one side or another along the inner wall...

Doirind, lays on the ground. Still on her back. She is bleeding from the back of her head. She makes eye contact with Ivor. Her hand points out to her drusus, in a concealed motion. The weapon is laying just out of her reach. With a look, Doirind begs Ivor to come to her. He knows what she is saying even without a word, "Give me a sword. Some killing is about to begin, and I want to be armed."

Boann stares at Maeriks. Her face has a completely frozen expression. She is like a statue, listening to his words. She carefully places Sorcha Rhone's head onto the ground.

Still staring at Maeriks.

Boann walks away from Rhone. She looks at Maeriks, and then at the three Ulathi who have come up closer, the ones who Maeriks called forth as caretakers of the women.

Muirne is standing nearby. "Maybe he is right," she says. "We need to get out of here. Get back to Driftwood. Things are different now, but we can go back."

Boann, looks at Muirne, but does not say anything. Her face is solemn.

Now she is looking at the Deep Ones, walking up close to them. These are the ones that Maeriks the Norach said that she must marry. In all time, often the Norach and the other elders have decided who women should marry. Sometimes it is to make peace among families. Sometimes it is to repay a family for a loss or to right a grievance. Is it not the right and duty of the leadership of the clan to direct the clan women in a way that leads to the flourish of the clan? Is it not even more important to manage marriages if the clan's survival is what is at stake?

Boann walks down the line. Looking at the fish men. Their bulging eyes. Their webbed hands. They wear no shirts, and their rugged, partially-scaled skin is exposed.

Boann's hands are shaking. She takes a deep breath, and even that is a shudder.

"I ...." she begins.

She looks at Maeriks and Rutcranna.

She gulps and continues. "The Norach asks me....all of us... to choose a husband..."

"They used smoke," Doirind says.

Ivor looks at her with a questioning stare. He is crouched down to the wounded warrior woman, helping her to sit up. All of the others are talking, debating, and making proclamations near the Throne.

Thorn keeps a careful watch over Ivor as he attends to Doirind. Thorn is close enough to listen. And Dorind makes eye contact with him. Though she speaks quietly, she is submitting to the fact that Thorn is hearing this too.

"Smoke. That is what they used. It was kala weed, plus boiled lotus. Soaked into it and then dried again, put other fish oils with it. Gorolach burned it and breathed something like it all the time, but this burn was different. They would put it in small urns in our bed chambers, after we were asleep. When we woke up, we had no memory of anything that had happened."

She gets her bearings and sits up on her own now. There is blood in her hair, and a large split in the skin on the back of her head, from the hit she took when she was lifted high in the air and thrown to the floor by the unseen force. The axe wounds she suffered at the hands of her husband Donnchad are matted with blood. Some of it is crusting over, but Thorn sees that one wound on her side, in her rib cage, is grievous. It is still oozing blood. She has labored breathing.

"But we started to know. Especially when Koya bled and died. Berra knew first probably, so I think that is why she did it. And she was right in that choice I see now. A strong girl."

These details are unclear, but Doirind does not expect Ivor to talk much or ask for explanation beyond what he knows she wants to give.

"Most of them said it was not true. They did not want it to be true. WE did not want it to be true. And Gorolach was still taking all of the girls almost every day too," She looks up at Ivor, briefly to Thorn. "But we knew, whether we admitted it or not. There were signs. .."

"It was them." She looks out, tilts her head slowly in the direction of an Ulathi, a grotesque fish-man. With a fat, bumpy skin belly, this particular Deep One is standing 15-20' away. His bulging black oily eyes are locked on Maeriks. The man creature is captivated by the speech it is hearing. Its down-curved mouth is hanging partially open. It's serrated knife is only loosely held in it's hand hanging down at it's side.

"They used the smoke, to dull our senses, put us into a sleep like death, and crawl on top of us while we laid like corpses," her voice is filled with anger, contempt, shame, disgust. She is still quiet, careful to not draw attention away from the oration and activity at the Throne, but the way she speaks carries a roaring rage that sounds in Ivor and Thorn's ears.

"And they put foul creatures inside of us! Shamed us like no women have ever been shamed! When we were already broken and wretches before!," she is quaking with fury. Her entire body trembling in barely bridled tension. Her face is clenched into a mask of pure hate.

She looks at Ivor. And pulls up the drusus that he moved up and slid to her earlier. She shifts it smoothly from the floor to her lap.

"They will not let us leave. Maybe they will you, but not us," Doirind says, looking Ivor directly in the eye. "They will use their fish oils to heal these wounds. If I open my veins, they will use the fish oils to close them again before I can reach the sleep of death. They will tie me to a bed and nurse me back to health. Keeping me alive until..." She trails off, not being able to even finish the thought, but she looks down at her stomach. The closes her eyes, overcome with disgust and shame.

When she opens her eyes again, she takes a long look at the blade in her lap and puts her hand on the hilt before looking back to Ivor. "Yet here am I : bleeding and broken. Donnchad and Rutcranna have killed me. Too dead to fight like a real warrior, too alive to rest like a real corpse."

She coughs blood, pauses briefly, but continues without much attention to it. "I am shamed, but would die for even a shred of honor. I failed my children, but have done all I can to avenge them." She looks over at the body of Donnchad the Bear, decapitated and mutilated on the floor several strides away, laying on the floor forgotten among the gathering Ulathi.

"I would have a clean death... one way or another," she says to Ivor, with finality. "I will follow you to show me which way it will come."