Post by Jonok Coldfury on Oct 1, 2008 0:17:37 GMT -5
((The following describes as best as words can, what happens within Calana's mind during the time described in The woman in the White Hood.))
The whiteness of the place stretched on forever. She stood, looking this way and that. Nothing. It was like the emptiness of being blind, only it was white instead of black. She looked down at herself. She was wearing all the things she had been wearing. She could see, but she still felt the bandage over her eyes. She began walking, looking about for some kind of change. She walked for what could have been hours, days, weeks. She couldn’t tell. After an eternity, she stopped.
Calana was baffled. “What happened?” she thought aloud. A cruel laugh echoed through the space, a cool, feminine laugh. It was hers, only darker sounding. Movement caught her eye; her head jerked to face the figure. It was her, without the bandage, but the look in her eyes was different. Someone else was behind them. “What happened, my pet, is that old fool tried to save you. Now we are stuck here until something frees us.” Calana was speechless, this person looked and sounded like her, but was not her. “Who are you? Why do you look like me?” A sly grin spread across the impersonator’s face, “I’m not going to tell you anything… It would take the fun out of everything. But you can call me Sister.” Calana barred her teeth, “You’re not my sister!” Sister’s grin widened, “How do you know?”
“My father would have told me!”
“Would he?”
“Yes!” Sister closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, slowly letting it out in a long drawn out sigh. “Well, you can call me what you want, but I want you to call me Sister.” Sister began to walk around Calana, who’s gaze followed her all the way around. Sister stopped right in front of Calana. “I hope we can be friends!” Sister said in the sly, cool voice similar to the laugh. Calana responded by growling. “Now, now! There’s no need for that! I just want to get to know you! So, tell me something about yourself.” Calana remained silent. “Alright. Have it your way.” Sister snapped her fingers and the surroundings changed. They were in a stone room. It was the Guardian’s tower in Cornar. “Who is this fine gentleman?” She asked as she crossed the room and began rubbing his shoulders. He had been hunched over a desk writing, but when she touched him, he looked up in surprise. It was Calana’s father, Jonok. “Ah, Calana, my dear, you startled me! What is it?” “Oh nothing, Papa, I just wanted to sit with you.” Sister said with a perfect imitation of Calana’s voice. Her eyes cut around and locked with Calana’s. “I do so enjoy spending time with you.” Calana still did not speak, nor did she move. The smile on Sister’s face faded. With a wave of a hand, the scene changed. They were in the Hall of Guardians, where the portraits of past guardians hung. Sister strode past Calana to a portrait. “It’s a shame. He was such a good man…” Calana slowly turned to face Sister. A chill ran through her, from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail. It was a picture of Jonok. “It seems his daughter went crazy and he couldn’t take it. He took ill and died. It took him well over a year to pass… What a shame.” Calana slowly shook her head as she took a step toward the painting. As the pad of her foot touched the floor, Sister’s head whipped around, a sly look on her face. She snapped her fingers again and everything melted away, leaving them in the white void again.
“It’s all fake.” Calana said coldly. Sister smiled. If that makes you feel better about it then go ahead and say that, but denying it will only make it more painful in the end.”
“It isn’t true.”
“The look in poor Jonok’s eye as he laid there…”
“It isn’t true.”
“his mind slowly slipping away.”
“It isn’t true.”
“You know how hard it is on a man to lose his wife and daughter?”
“It isn’t true.”
“It can tear him apart.”
Movement caught Calana’s attention. Her head turned to see someone disappear behind a tree. More trees appeared. And grass and the sky. It was a forest. She heard voices, familiar voices. She turned to face Sister, but she was gone. Calana slowly and timidly started off into the woods, following the voices. The grass felt wonderful under her feet and the air was cool and crisp. It took her a few minutes, but she found the source of the voices, a camp. Three people were sitting around a fire on the banks of a river. She inched forward. A lump formed in her throat. It was Joe, Dogin… and herself. “Not this… not this.” She said softly. The three of them were laughing and talking. They were happy. “I must admit, you two had something.” Sister said, suddenly standing beside Calana. “Something special.” In a flash, the scene changed from the picturesque locale by the river to the war-torn, snow-covered battle field of the Demon War. Laying at their feet was Dogin’s limp body. Calana stood staring down at his body. “It’ such a shame…” Sister said with a sigh, shaking her head. Calana turned, her fur ruffled. The back of her hand firmly impacted the side of Sister’s face. Sister’s smile, however, remained the same as she recovered from the strike. There was a stirring at their feet. Dogin was moving. Calana fell to her knees and reached out to touch him, but her hand passed through him. Sister had fallen to her knees as well. She lifted him to a sitting position. “Oh, Dogin, I thought I’d lost you!” she said, over dramatically. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he weakly did the same. “I’ll never leave you again.” He said. Calana’s eyes were watering, but she could still see the knife in Sister’s hand. “NO!” she screamed, but it was too late, Sister had driven the blade deep into Dogin’s back. He went rigid and convulsed a few times in Sister’s arms. She dropped him and stood, calmly whipping the blood from the knife as Dogin lay in the snow, twitching. He rolled over, with a grunt of pain to face Calana. “Why didn’t you save me? I thought you loved me!”
“I do love you! With everything I have, I love you! I tried to save you!”
“To think I was going to marry you! You care nothing of me!” Dogin spat at her, his strength quickly fading. With his last breath he uttered three words, “I hate you!” Calana began to shake. Cries formed deep in the pit of her stomach, but they all became trapped in her throat., making her have to gasp for breath. Her lips formed the words “I do love you,” but like the cries of anguish, the words themselves were trapped, unable to escape. Her eyes were full of tears and squeezed shut. She felt like dying. She stayed there, shaking and weeping for a time, how long she couldn’t tell. An arm wrapped around her shoulders and hugged her close. At first it was comforting, soothing, but when Calana opened her eyes and turned to face her comforter, she jumped up and backed away. It was Sister.
“You finally done?” she asked with a bored expression. Calana simply glared, her lip still quivering. Sister smiled, “For someone that considers herself as being strong, you sure do break down easily.” Calana didn’t respond. Sister shrugged. “Better watch out,” she stated cooly as she pointed to her left. Calana glanced where she had indicated to see demon hounds closing in around her. She turned back to Sister, but she was gone. In her place was more demons. In the blink of an eye, the empty whiteness had been replaced by the field of battle from the Demon War, the field of full spectrum. Calana slowly turned to find she was surrounded, but she was relaxed. “This isn’t real. They can’t hurt me…” As though in response to her statement, one of the wraith hounds pounced on her, digging it’s teeth deep into her left shoulder. The pain shot through her, taking her breath away. Instantly, her hand went to her sword. With the fluidity and grace she had gained through relentless practice, she drew the sword and brought it’s point around into the hound’s neck. It screamed in the form of a sickening gurgle and fell to the ground. Others rushed in to be met by the razor sharp edge of Siverstorm. Calana’s skill was easily enough to defeat wraith hounds, but not in the quantities that pressed in around her. They jumped at her two at a time. Three at a time. Five at a time. Ten at a time. She could feel her strength draining from her. Then, his face came to her mind, the face that had been her driving force for weeks. Dogin. She dug deep, finding more energy and a stronger drive to fight on. But even with this new found energy, there were just too many. They began clamping onto her arms with their powerful jaws. Several began attacking her ankles. The pain was unbearable. She fell to her hands and knees, crying out. More and more weight fell on her as the hounds began to pile up on top of each other, trying to get at their prey.
In the distance, there was a soft twang, followed by a dull thud and a yip of pain. Then came more twangs and more thuds. The weight began to lift. The demon hounds were falling off of her. The last one released it’s grip and fell, limp, to the ground. Calana was covered in open wounds. The blood was running freely, staining the ground beneath her. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She slowly and painfully lifted her head to see him running at her. Again, it was Dogin, alive and well. In his hand was a bow, on his back a quiver full of arrows, and on his face was a look of concern. He went down to a knee as he reached her. “Calana, stay with me! Don’t give up!” Calana was trembling from the loss of blood, she couldn’t speak. She looked up into his eyes to see their pupils grow wide. He looked down in a stupor. Calana’s eyes followed his gaze to see an ice shard protruding from his chest. “Get away from her!” Dogin was suddenly lifted into the air and tossed violently aside. Calana now saw the source of the roar. Jonok was charging across the field. He stopped right in front of her, glaring down at her. “Get up!” he said softly. Calana started trying to pull herself to her feet, but she was too weak. “I said get up!” he roared, grabbing her by the arm, squeezing with incredible strength, and pulled her to her feet. Calana winced as he squeezed. Fresh blood oozed out of her wounds where he held her. “You are a disgrace to me! You are a disgrace to our people! Look at you! You are weak!” Calana was still shaking and panting, but she was able to utter, “This isn’t real…” Jonok cocked his head to one side, “What?” Calana could feel anger welling up inside her. “This isn’t real!” she said again, a little louder. Jonok roared in laughter. “This isn’t real!” she repeated even louder, the anger boiling over into rage. Jonok finally stopped laughing and looked Calana in the eye as he grabbed her wrist, “The only thing that isn’t real,” he wrenched the ring off her finger, “is this!” He held the ring in front of her eyes, then squeezed it in his hand. When he opened his hand again, a fine dust fell from it that drifted away in the wind.
Calana felt her sword in her hand and watched as it’s tip rose up into Jonok’s gut. Someone was laughing a wicked laugh. It took her a moment to realize it was she who was laughing. She pulled the blade free and let it fall to the ground. Her legs coul no longer hold her so she fell to the ground as well, and covered her face. She was still shaking. She felt as though she should be crying, but tears would not come. “It isn’t real… it isn’t real… it isn’t real…”
A hand began to gently stroke Calana’s arm. She pushed it away, but after a moment it came back. She pushed it away again. After a longer pause, the hand returned again, but this time Calana did not move. It had a calming touch. Calana began to stop shaking. Her wounds didn’t hurt anymore. The hand lifted and all was silent. Calana moved her hands. Sister was leaning over her, offering her hand. Calana stared at her for a moment, at her smile, the fire that burned in her eyes, the kindness that seemed to emanate from her. Calana took Sister’s hand and slowly got to her feet. The two of them stood, staring at one another for a moment before Sister spoke up. “Did it feel good?”
“Hmm?”
“Did it feel good? To kill him?”
Calana thought back for a moment. The way Jonok had shouted at her, laughed at her. Then she thought of the feeling the blade made against her hand as she thrust it upward. The feeling of power, the rage that flowed freely through her. She nodded, “Yes… it did.” Sister nodded, “It feels good to take from others that have taken from you, doesn’t it?” Calana nodded again, more confidently. “You know what feels even better?” Sister asked, her eyes glistening. Calana leaned closer to her. Sister smiled, “Taking from others what was taken from you.” Calana felt the same wicked smile Sister wore spread across her own face. Sister held out a hand, gesturing off to Calana’s left. She turned to see an interesting sight. A Cereashian male was tied to a large wooden pole. Across from him and facing him, was a Cereashian female, also tied to a pole. They were calling out to one another, struggling to get free. Calana casually strode over to them and slowly circled each of them. When they saw her, they both went ridged, their eyes following her every move. Calana continued circling, first one, then the other, then both of them. She finally stopped beside the male. Her hand slid along her belt to one of the knives at her back. She pulled the blade free and ran it’s flat side across the man’s fur. Her eyes followed it’s tip until it stopped. The rage was building again. She looked over her shoulder at the woman. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Calana watched her as she gave the knife a quick thrust, planting it in the man’s side. He grunted, gritting his teeth, trying not to cry out in pain. “Noo!” the woman wailed.
Calana was awed. The woman’s cries of anguish were like beautiful songs. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, as though she was breathing in the sweet smells of spring. The cries faded away. When they had gone completely, Calana opened her eyes. The fire of her rage burned brightly in her eyes. “Again!” she said to Sister who appeared in front of her. “Of course,” she replied. The two lovers appeared again, tied to their poles.
Calana found more terrible and exciting ways to bring anguish to her prey, each more cruelly creative than the last. One after the other. Days, weeks, time didn’t matter, the rage burned on and Calana gladly released it on others, burning a path of blood, death, and tears. She was a conductor, her weapons were her batons, and the cries of loss and anguish were her symphony.
“Again!” Calana shouted, as she raised her two bloody knives skyward. A man appeared before her, his hands were bound. He was on his knees. His fur was light grey, almost white, and his back was badly scarred. One of his eyes had grown shut. He look up at her with his one eye. “What is this?” Calana demanded. Sister strode up beside her. “This man would give his life for his wife and child. He loves them more than life itself and they love him the same.” The wicked smile reappeared on Calana’s face. “Ah…” She knelt down so that she was eye level with the man. Now that she was so close to his face, she seemed to recognize him. “Do you want to see your family again?” He nodded, showing no emotion. Calana nodded in response, “Stand up and turn around. I’m setting you free.” The man did as he was told, struggling to his feet and turning his back to her. “It’s wonderful that you know love,” she said as she drew her sword, “but there is something that you don’t know about it,” she cut the ropes holding his hands, “it’s a pain and can tear you apart!” With a mighty thrust, she stabbed Silverstorm into his back, all the way to the hilt. The man went ridged, then fell to the ground as Calana held her sword, letting it slid out of the wound as he fell. She closed her eyes, waiting for the music, for the cries… but they didn’t come. This only fueled the rage. “More!” Another man appeared before her, a Grogowen. He seemed more familiar than the last man had been and he, too, was bound. Calana’s eyes darted over to Sister. “This man loves his friend like a brother and was willing to risk his honor among his friends and family to travel the world with him.” Calana stood before the giant, inspecting her sword. “Love is a curse.” She thrust the blade deep into the grogowen’s chest with a dull thud. Yet again, only silence followed. A growl formed in her throat as she marched up to Sister, grabbing a fist full of her robe in one hand and holding the sword’s edge to her throat with the other. “Where is the music?!” she shouted. Sister placed a hand on Calana’s shoulder and spoke softly, “Calm down, Sister, I will find your music! Look here!” She pointed to a third man. He was much smaller. His fur was a rough shade of grey. A black bag had been pulled down over his head. He was on his hands and knees and, like the other two, his hands were bound. Calana lowered her blade and released her grip on Sister’s robes. Sister ushered her over to the man. “This man loves a woman so deeply, he would do anything to protect her, to keep her happy. And she loves him at least as much. But you must kill him quickly because she my return and save him!” Calana nodded lifting her sword high above her head. Sister ripped the bag away, revealing the man’s face. His fur had been ruffled by the bag and he squinted because of the sudden brightness of the room. Calana started to bring Silverstorm down upon him, but as she stared into his eyes, she felt her rage draining away. Sister began to fidget, “Comon, Sister! She will save him! Quickly, Sister, kill him so that you can hear his lover’s song!” Calana’s hands felt wet. She lowered the blade, looking at her free hand. It was dry. “What are you waiting for, Sister?” Sister shouted, “Kill him!” Calana continued to stare at her hands. She felt the bandage that was wrapped around her head. “Do it, Sister!” Sister shouted, taking a step back as she turned to face Calana. Calana spoke softly, but clearly, “My name isn’t Sister… it’s Calana.” Silverstorm sang through the air as it made a wide arch. It caught Sister in the side of the neck, cleaving her head from her shoulders. Her body went limp and fell to the ground. There wasn’t any blood. No sound. No vile, gut wrenching screams of loss, no cries for those who had died.
Calana slid the sword back into it’s scabbard and then reached up, slowly pulling the bandage off her face. She let it fall to the ground as she looked at her hands. They were soaked with blood. Her gaze shifted past her hands to the body at her feet. It still looked like her, but it was deformed and it’s fur was black and looked burned. A sound behind her caused her to turn. Dogin was on his feet, he had broken free of his bonds. His fur was as white as the purest snow in the dead of winter. His beautiful eyes gazed into hers. A small smile appeared at the edges of his lips. Calana started to speak, but he held up a hand. She looked at it then back to him. He nodded. She lifted her hand and pressed it against his. They interlocked their fingers. Dogin closed his eyes and dissolved into millions of tiny points of light that flowed down Calana’s arm and began to swirl around her. She could feel what she used to be. What she truly was. She breathed in the sweetness of the air, “This… is real…” she said slowly as she closed her eyes. She felt cleansed. The memories of what had happened remained, but she knew it wasn’t really her.
A cool wind began to blow past her. She slowly opened her eyes to find she was in the void again, but it was different. It was grey, not white. To her left was total darkness, to her right was almost blinding light. A man's voice echoed through the space, “Everyone has their demons, but they are not what make use evil. It is the choices we make that decide that.” Calana looked down at her feet, at the grey ground beneath them. “The choices we all have to make…” She closed her eyes again and began to hum one of the songs she had played those many weeks ago as she thought back to when she had started her journey, of all the people she had met and places she had seen. “Choices…”
The whiteness of the place stretched on forever. She stood, looking this way and that. Nothing. It was like the emptiness of being blind, only it was white instead of black. She looked down at herself. She was wearing all the things she had been wearing. She could see, but she still felt the bandage over her eyes. She began walking, looking about for some kind of change. She walked for what could have been hours, days, weeks. She couldn’t tell. After an eternity, she stopped.
Calana was baffled. “What happened?” she thought aloud. A cruel laugh echoed through the space, a cool, feminine laugh. It was hers, only darker sounding. Movement caught her eye; her head jerked to face the figure. It was her, without the bandage, but the look in her eyes was different. Someone else was behind them. “What happened, my pet, is that old fool tried to save you. Now we are stuck here until something frees us.” Calana was speechless, this person looked and sounded like her, but was not her. “Who are you? Why do you look like me?” A sly grin spread across the impersonator’s face, “I’m not going to tell you anything… It would take the fun out of everything. But you can call me Sister.” Calana barred her teeth, “You’re not my sister!” Sister’s grin widened, “How do you know?”
“My father would have told me!”
“Would he?”
“Yes!” Sister closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, slowly letting it out in a long drawn out sigh. “Well, you can call me what you want, but I want you to call me Sister.” Sister began to walk around Calana, who’s gaze followed her all the way around. Sister stopped right in front of Calana. “I hope we can be friends!” Sister said in the sly, cool voice similar to the laugh. Calana responded by growling. “Now, now! There’s no need for that! I just want to get to know you! So, tell me something about yourself.” Calana remained silent. “Alright. Have it your way.” Sister snapped her fingers and the surroundings changed. They were in a stone room. It was the Guardian’s tower in Cornar. “Who is this fine gentleman?” She asked as she crossed the room and began rubbing his shoulders. He had been hunched over a desk writing, but when she touched him, he looked up in surprise. It was Calana’s father, Jonok. “Ah, Calana, my dear, you startled me! What is it?” “Oh nothing, Papa, I just wanted to sit with you.” Sister said with a perfect imitation of Calana’s voice. Her eyes cut around and locked with Calana’s. “I do so enjoy spending time with you.” Calana still did not speak, nor did she move. The smile on Sister’s face faded. With a wave of a hand, the scene changed. They were in the Hall of Guardians, where the portraits of past guardians hung. Sister strode past Calana to a portrait. “It’s a shame. He was such a good man…” Calana slowly turned to face Sister. A chill ran through her, from the tip of her nose to the tip of her tail. It was a picture of Jonok. “It seems his daughter went crazy and he couldn’t take it. He took ill and died. It took him well over a year to pass… What a shame.” Calana slowly shook her head as she took a step toward the painting. As the pad of her foot touched the floor, Sister’s head whipped around, a sly look on her face. She snapped her fingers again and everything melted away, leaving them in the white void again.
“It’s all fake.” Calana said coldly. Sister smiled. If that makes you feel better about it then go ahead and say that, but denying it will only make it more painful in the end.”
“It isn’t true.”
“The look in poor Jonok’s eye as he laid there…”
“It isn’t true.”
“his mind slowly slipping away.”
“It isn’t true.”
“You know how hard it is on a man to lose his wife and daughter?”
“It isn’t true.”
“It can tear him apart.”
Movement caught Calana’s attention. Her head turned to see someone disappear behind a tree. More trees appeared. And grass and the sky. It was a forest. She heard voices, familiar voices. She turned to face Sister, but she was gone. Calana slowly and timidly started off into the woods, following the voices. The grass felt wonderful under her feet and the air was cool and crisp. It took her a few minutes, but she found the source of the voices, a camp. Three people were sitting around a fire on the banks of a river. She inched forward. A lump formed in her throat. It was Joe, Dogin… and herself. “Not this… not this.” She said softly. The three of them were laughing and talking. They were happy. “I must admit, you two had something.” Sister said, suddenly standing beside Calana. “Something special.” In a flash, the scene changed from the picturesque locale by the river to the war-torn, snow-covered battle field of the Demon War. Laying at their feet was Dogin’s limp body. Calana stood staring down at his body. “It’ such a shame…” Sister said with a sigh, shaking her head. Calana turned, her fur ruffled. The back of her hand firmly impacted the side of Sister’s face. Sister’s smile, however, remained the same as she recovered from the strike. There was a stirring at their feet. Dogin was moving. Calana fell to her knees and reached out to touch him, but her hand passed through him. Sister had fallen to her knees as well. She lifted him to a sitting position. “Oh, Dogin, I thought I’d lost you!” she said, over dramatically. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he weakly did the same. “I’ll never leave you again.” He said. Calana’s eyes were watering, but she could still see the knife in Sister’s hand. “NO!” she screamed, but it was too late, Sister had driven the blade deep into Dogin’s back. He went rigid and convulsed a few times in Sister’s arms. She dropped him and stood, calmly whipping the blood from the knife as Dogin lay in the snow, twitching. He rolled over, with a grunt of pain to face Calana. “Why didn’t you save me? I thought you loved me!”
“I do love you! With everything I have, I love you! I tried to save you!”
“To think I was going to marry you! You care nothing of me!” Dogin spat at her, his strength quickly fading. With his last breath he uttered three words, “I hate you!” Calana began to shake. Cries formed deep in the pit of her stomach, but they all became trapped in her throat., making her have to gasp for breath. Her lips formed the words “I do love you,” but like the cries of anguish, the words themselves were trapped, unable to escape. Her eyes were full of tears and squeezed shut. She felt like dying. She stayed there, shaking and weeping for a time, how long she couldn’t tell. An arm wrapped around her shoulders and hugged her close. At first it was comforting, soothing, but when Calana opened her eyes and turned to face her comforter, she jumped up and backed away. It was Sister.
“You finally done?” she asked with a bored expression. Calana simply glared, her lip still quivering. Sister smiled, “For someone that considers herself as being strong, you sure do break down easily.” Calana didn’t respond. Sister shrugged. “Better watch out,” she stated cooly as she pointed to her left. Calana glanced where she had indicated to see demon hounds closing in around her. She turned back to Sister, but she was gone. In her place was more demons. In the blink of an eye, the empty whiteness had been replaced by the field of battle from the Demon War, the field of full spectrum. Calana slowly turned to find she was surrounded, but she was relaxed. “This isn’t real. They can’t hurt me…” As though in response to her statement, one of the wraith hounds pounced on her, digging it’s teeth deep into her left shoulder. The pain shot through her, taking her breath away. Instantly, her hand went to her sword. With the fluidity and grace she had gained through relentless practice, she drew the sword and brought it’s point around into the hound’s neck. It screamed in the form of a sickening gurgle and fell to the ground. Others rushed in to be met by the razor sharp edge of Siverstorm. Calana’s skill was easily enough to defeat wraith hounds, but not in the quantities that pressed in around her. They jumped at her two at a time. Three at a time. Five at a time. Ten at a time. She could feel her strength draining from her. Then, his face came to her mind, the face that had been her driving force for weeks. Dogin. She dug deep, finding more energy and a stronger drive to fight on. But even with this new found energy, there were just too many. They began clamping onto her arms with their powerful jaws. Several began attacking her ankles. The pain was unbearable. She fell to her hands and knees, crying out. More and more weight fell on her as the hounds began to pile up on top of each other, trying to get at their prey.
In the distance, there was a soft twang, followed by a dull thud and a yip of pain. Then came more twangs and more thuds. The weight began to lift. The demon hounds were falling off of her. The last one released it’s grip and fell, limp, to the ground. Calana was covered in open wounds. The blood was running freely, staining the ground beneath her. Her breath was coming in short gasps. She slowly and painfully lifted her head to see him running at her. Again, it was Dogin, alive and well. In his hand was a bow, on his back a quiver full of arrows, and on his face was a look of concern. He went down to a knee as he reached her. “Calana, stay with me! Don’t give up!” Calana was trembling from the loss of blood, she couldn’t speak. She looked up into his eyes to see their pupils grow wide. He looked down in a stupor. Calana’s eyes followed his gaze to see an ice shard protruding from his chest. “Get away from her!” Dogin was suddenly lifted into the air and tossed violently aside. Calana now saw the source of the roar. Jonok was charging across the field. He stopped right in front of her, glaring down at her. “Get up!” he said softly. Calana started trying to pull herself to her feet, but she was too weak. “I said get up!” he roared, grabbing her by the arm, squeezing with incredible strength, and pulled her to her feet. Calana winced as he squeezed. Fresh blood oozed out of her wounds where he held her. “You are a disgrace to me! You are a disgrace to our people! Look at you! You are weak!” Calana was still shaking and panting, but she was able to utter, “This isn’t real…” Jonok cocked his head to one side, “What?” Calana could feel anger welling up inside her. “This isn’t real!” she said again, a little louder. Jonok roared in laughter. “This isn’t real!” she repeated even louder, the anger boiling over into rage. Jonok finally stopped laughing and looked Calana in the eye as he grabbed her wrist, “The only thing that isn’t real,” he wrenched the ring off her finger, “is this!” He held the ring in front of her eyes, then squeezed it in his hand. When he opened his hand again, a fine dust fell from it that drifted away in the wind.
Calana felt her sword in her hand and watched as it’s tip rose up into Jonok’s gut. Someone was laughing a wicked laugh. It took her a moment to realize it was she who was laughing. She pulled the blade free and let it fall to the ground. Her legs coul no longer hold her so she fell to the ground as well, and covered her face. She was still shaking. She felt as though she should be crying, but tears would not come. “It isn’t real… it isn’t real… it isn’t real…”
A hand began to gently stroke Calana’s arm. She pushed it away, but after a moment it came back. She pushed it away again. After a longer pause, the hand returned again, but this time Calana did not move. It had a calming touch. Calana began to stop shaking. Her wounds didn’t hurt anymore. The hand lifted and all was silent. Calana moved her hands. Sister was leaning over her, offering her hand. Calana stared at her for a moment, at her smile, the fire that burned in her eyes, the kindness that seemed to emanate from her. Calana took Sister’s hand and slowly got to her feet. The two of them stood, staring at one another for a moment before Sister spoke up. “Did it feel good?”
“Hmm?”
“Did it feel good? To kill him?”
Calana thought back for a moment. The way Jonok had shouted at her, laughed at her. Then she thought of the feeling the blade made against her hand as she thrust it upward. The feeling of power, the rage that flowed freely through her. She nodded, “Yes… it did.” Sister nodded, “It feels good to take from others that have taken from you, doesn’t it?” Calana nodded again, more confidently. “You know what feels even better?” Sister asked, her eyes glistening. Calana leaned closer to her. Sister smiled, “Taking from others what was taken from you.” Calana felt the same wicked smile Sister wore spread across her own face. Sister held out a hand, gesturing off to Calana’s left. She turned to see an interesting sight. A Cereashian male was tied to a large wooden pole. Across from him and facing him, was a Cereashian female, also tied to a pole. They were calling out to one another, struggling to get free. Calana casually strode over to them and slowly circled each of them. When they saw her, they both went ridged, their eyes following her every move. Calana continued circling, first one, then the other, then both of them. She finally stopped beside the male. Her hand slid along her belt to one of the knives at her back. She pulled the blade free and ran it’s flat side across the man’s fur. Her eyes followed it’s tip until it stopped. The rage was building again. She looked over her shoulder at the woman. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Calana watched her as she gave the knife a quick thrust, planting it in the man’s side. He grunted, gritting his teeth, trying not to cry out in pain. “Noo!” the woman wailed.
Calana was awed. The woman’s cries of anguish were like beautiful songs. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, as though she was breathing in the sweet smells of spring. The cries faded away. When they had gone completely, Calana opened her eyes. The fire of her rage burned brightly in her eyes. “Again!” she said to Sister who appeared in front of her. “Of course,” she replied. The two lovers appeared again, tied to their poles.
Calana found more terrible and exciting ways to bring anguish to her prey, each more cruelly creative than the last. One after the other. Days, weeks, time didn’t matter, the rage burned on and Calana gladly released it on others, burning a path of blood, death, and tears. She was a conductor, her weapons were her batons, and the cries of loss and anguish were her symphony.
“Again!” Calana shouted, as she raised her two bloody knives skyward. A man appeared before her, his hands were bound. He was on his knees. His fur was light grey, almost white, and his back was badly scarred. One of his eyes had grown shut. He look up at her with his one eye. “What is this?” Calana demanded. Sister strode up beside her. “This man would give his life for his wife and child. He loves them more than life itself and they love him the same.” The wicked smile reappeared on Calana’s face. “Ah…” She knelt down so that she was eye level with the man. Now that she was so close to his face, she seemed to recognize him. “Do you want to see your family again?” He nodded, showing no emotion. Calana nodded in response, “Stand up and turn around. I’m setting you free.” The man did as he was told, struggling to his feet and turning his back to her. “It’s wonderful that you know love,” she said as she drew her sword, “but there is something that you don’t know about it,” she cut the ropes holding his hands, “it’s a pain and can tear you apart!” With a mighty thrust, she stabbed Silverstorm into his back, all the way to the hilt. The man went ridged, then fell to the ground as Calana held her sword, letting it slid out of the wound as he fell. She closed her eyes, waiting for the music, for the cries… but they didn’t come. This only fueled the rage. “More!” Another man appeared before her, a Grogowen. He seemed more familiar than the last man had been and he, too, was bound. Calana’s eyes darted over to Sister. “This man loves his friend like a brother and was willing to risk his honor among his friends and family to travel the world with him.” Calana stood before the giant, inspecting her sword. “Love is a curse.” She thrust the blade deep into the grogowen’s chest with a dull thud. Yet again, only silence followed. A growl formed in her throat as she marched up to Sister, grabbing a fist full of her robe in one hand and holding the sword’s edge to her throat with the other. “Where is the music?!” she shouted. Sister placed a hand on Calana’s shoulder and spoke softly, “Calm down, Sister, I will find your music! Look here!” She pointed to a third man. He was much smaller. His fur was a rough shade of grey. A black bag had been pulled down over his head. He was on his hands and knees and, like the other two, his hands were bound. Calana lowered her blade and released her grip on Sister’s robes. Sister ushered her over to the man. “This man loves a woman so deeply, he would do anything to protect her, to keep her happy. And she loves him at least as much. But you must kill him quickly because she my return and save him!” Calana nodded lifting her sword high above her head. Sister ripped the bag away, revealing the man’s face. His fur had been ruffled by the bag and he squinted because of the sudden brightness of the room. Calana started to bring Silverstorm down upon him, but as she stared into his eyes, she felt her rage draining away. Sister began to fidget, “Comon, Sister! She will save him! Quickly, Sister, kill him so that you can hear his lover’s song!” Calana’s hands felt wet. She lowered the blade, looking at her free hand. It was dry. “What are you waiting for, Sister?” Sister shouted, “Kill him!” Calana continued to stare at her hands. She felt the bandage that was wrapped around her head. “Do it, Sister!” Sister shouted, taking a step back as she turned to face Calana. Calana spoke softly, but clearly, “My name isn’t Sister… it’s Calana.” Silverstorm sang through the air as it made a wide arch. It caught Sister in the side of the neck, cleaving her head from her shoulders. Her body went limp and fell to the ground. There wasn’t any blood. No sound. No vile, gut wrenching screams of loss, no cries for those who had died.
Calana slid the sword back into it’s scabbard and then reached up, slowly pulling the bandage off her face. She let it fall to the ground as she looked at her hands. They were soaked with blood. Her gaze shifted past her hands to the body at her feet. It still looked like her, but it was deformed and it’s fur was black and looked burned. A sound behind her caused her to turn. Dogin was on his feet, he had broken free of his bonds. His fur was as white as the purest snow in the dead of winter. His beautiful eyes gazed into hers. A small smile appeared at the edges of his lips. Calana started to speak, but he held up a hand. She looked at it then back to him. He nodded. She lifted her hand and pressed it against his. They interlocked their fingers. Dogin closed his eyes and dissolved into millions of tiny points of light that flowed down Calana’s arm and began to swirl around her. She could feel what she used to be. What she truly was. She breathed in the sweetness of the air, “This… is real…” she said slowly as she closed her eyes. She felt cleansed. The memories of what had happened remained, but she knew it wasn’t really her.
A cool wind began to blow past her. She slowly opened her eyes to find she was in the void again, but it was different. It was grey, not white. To her left was total darkness, to her right was almost blinding light. A man's voice echoed through the space, “Everyone has their demons, but they are not what make use evil. It is the choices we make that decide that.” Calana looked down at her feet, at the grey ground beneath them. “The choices we all have to make…” She closed her eyes again and began to hum one of the songs she had played those many weeks ago as she thought back to when she had started her journey, of all the people she had met and places she had seen. “Choices…”