Phoenix Rising

By Timothy Ray

Tristan and Willow set out for Forlorn with Excalibur finally within their grasp. But is it too late for the Elven King of Forlorn? Merlin and his group head north to scout for the enemy's position, but are attacked by Dark Elves while traveling east to the Elves. On the run, they are saved by an unlikely alliance of Humans and Orcs, and together rush to Forlorn's aid for the battle ahead. With the combined strength of Orcs, Fae, Humans, Dwarves, and Elves, the free races dig in and wait for what they know is coming...
Led by a reformed group of Horsemen, the Phoenix's armies arrive, and the restored King of the Elves is faced with a horror beyond imagining... Will they prevail? Or will they fail to stop the Phoenix Rising

• Language: English
• Publisher: Timothy Ray
• Release date: May 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463047040

Timothy Ray

Timothy Ray (1978-) was born in Tucson, Arizona, where he resides to this day. His family is from eastern Arizona, from Safford to Morenci, and he enjoys camping on Mt. Graham during the summer months. He attended Desert View High School, where he was inspired by an English teacher to explore his creative writing skills and work on his first novel; the Acquisition of Swords. He joined the Writer's Group under Mrs. Wakamatsu, and finished the rough draft of his first book in 1995.

Book preview

Book 2 of the New Age Saga

Remastered Edition

Timothy Ray

Also by Timothy Ray:

The New Age Saga: Remastered Editions

The Acquisition of Swords

Phoenix Rising

Coalescence

Wrath of the Phoenix

Nightstalkers: Origins (Available 2019)

The Rotting Souls Series

Charon’s Blight: Day One

Charon’s Blight: Day Two

Charon’s Debt

Charon’s Coffers

Charon’s Vengeance

Slipstream

Focal Point

Fifth Column

Faith’s Embrace

Hardwired (Available 2019)

Rampant Fear (Available 2019)

Legacy

Sanguis

Luna (Available 2019)

Compilations:

Rotting Souls: The Complete Series

Charon’s Blight: Day One & Day Two

Phoenix Rising

A Ray Publishing Book/ May 2017

Published by

Ray Publishing

Tucson, AZ

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2017 by Timothy Ray

Prologue

Two thousand years ago…

The shadows had fallen across the land; the marks the fading sunset left were cruel in the silent mocking of the darkness that followed. The blackness coveted it all, creeping upon moon shadows; the finger of a homicidal creature. It was not to be considered shadows, for the full moon in all its radiance had not risen far enough from the horizon to cast its light upon the Earth. It was more like a black hole swallowing everything that came near. The land was blanketed in it; the nothing that terrified children. The moon slowly ebbed into the night sky, shedding some feeble light upon the world, pale when compared with the flaming fires of the phoenix emanating from the sun.

The forest below the moon was dark and secretive. Its trees had woven their own blanket with its mouse-eaten holes. Crickets and frogs sang with all their heart’s content. The moon rose into the sky, reaching higher and higher, seeking loopholes for its light, but finding little purchase.

At one of the holes in the blanket of evergreen trees, leaves rustled in their stems from creaking limbs. Somewhere, a wolf howled, crying for redemption and joy, the joy the wild creature felt for the passing of the sun; the beginning of another night. It embodied the need to hunt—kill, in the privacy of shadows.

A figure cloaked in darkness touched the grass of the clearing, momentarily hesitating, then moving swiftly. It glided across the meadow, noticed only by the crickets and the dead. Moonlight caught a brief glint of metal, but the shadowy figure swung its cloak quickly to cover it up. Then it was gone.

Life returned. A cricket led the way as the others followed, their heads bowed as they sang their lonely tune. A deer came into the clearing, the doe’s head cocked, ears perked. After a moment, content, she bent her head and began to eat.

The shadows were no burden to the unheard stranger. She made her way silently through the forest, following a path that had grown familiar within her mind. No grass grew upon the trail; the years had molded the ground too hard for the living. Of course, that didn’t stop the fallen deadwood that littered the ground. The forest, like every other living thing, had its plagues as well; beetles, more often than not. She could smell the freshness of the rain that had fallen during the day. The plants, as sparse as the little ones were, reeked of it. She could also pick up the scent of conifer leaves that routinely fell upon the ground.

The wolf howled again, closer this time. She knew she had nothing to fear but hastened her step anyway. Tonight, there would be no delay or the events that she had foreseen would be in jeopardy. She silently moved through the foliage about her; a snarl appearing upon her beautiful countenance as she thought of something daring to block her way. Its death would be quick, as not to disrupt her plans further. She had been excited earlier, so much so that she had forgotten a necessity on her excursion to the edge of the Pennines—she had run out of gas with five miles left to travel on her planned course. She had left her car, not caring what happened to it. The driver would be found by morning, but by then, it would be too late.

She reached another clearing and peered out from the safety of the trees. A castle surrounded by shadows loomed over her; reaching for the heavens. It was perched upon a hill like a hawk watching for its next meal. A great rock wall blocked the way forward. From where she stood, only the towers and parapets were within sight, but she didn’t need to see in order to know where she was going. She already knew what lay beyond the crumbling walls and gates; she’d flown over it many times on a private plane she had bought a few years before. The pilot lay in a coma at the hospital. She would return to him soon, as promised.

Go back, a voice whispered in her mind. She recognized it immediately; it came from the forest around her. Its feeble attempts to stop her would be in vain.

The clouds passed quickly overhead as they rushed from the castle grounds; even they knew what evil lay within the castle. Which was why it had remained empty for all these years. Not even the bravest wolves ventured onto the grounds or within shouting distance of them. For a moment, she was transfixed by the evil that emanated out of its pores. A howl erupted, forcing its way across the forbidden land. To any normal woman, the howl would have been terrifying, but all she did was grin wider.

There was a ripple across her sight and the image of a barren countryside superimposed itself over that of the castle, but her training kept the magical defenses at bay. She herself was not British, but she knew enough of the culture to know that these lands were forbidden. If not by spoken word, but by the unspoken insight that all of Britain seemed to possess; leave well enough alone.

This is your last chance to turn back, the voice said in its desperate, rough tone.

She laughed aloud, what were they going to do to stop her? She was clear of the trees, straight before her stood the castle and her destiny; what could they possibly do to change what she was about to set on course?

As if in answer, there came a snap of a branch breaking. The noise got louder, and it sounded like a tree was being uprooted. She turned to meet the threat, which was hidden behind a mask of trees. She glanced to the right and barely saved herself from the maul of a wolf as it dove for her. She instinctively put her right hand up and the wolf latched on. It lost its grip and fell to the earth on her left. She drew a dagger which she kept behind her robe on her back. She beckoned to the glaring and snarling wolf.

Come on then, she taunted, eager to end this and be on her way.

The wolf looked towards the forest, lowered its head, and fled.

That’s what I thought, she muttered. As she was turning back to face the forest, she got sideswiped by a branch, sending her flying toward a tree. The impact would’ve killed her had she not taken it with her shoulder. Any higher and it would’ve been game over. She got up holding her left shoulder, looking for her attacker. Whatever it was, it had retreated. Shaken, she decided it might be a good time to depart this area.

Yes, leave, go home, and never return.

Bah, you have left me no choice but to go forward, I will not get lost in your forest this night, she answered. She thought of how foolish she must seem, talking out loud like that for no reason, but who cared? There was no one within earshot. She turned and faced the castle once more.

Sweat appeared on her brow as she thought about the task before her and she absent-mindedly wiped it from her forehead. She knew what lay ahead, what she would have to do to reach her goal, and the many rewards that it would yield. Motivated, she started slowly forward, then at her usual pace as she grew comfortable once more. She crossed the clearing quickly and reentered the forest on the opposite side.

Her studies of the castle reassured her that she could pass onto the castle grounds without tripping any of the less serious defenses, if done right; she had worked too hard to do them wrong now. Her eyes started to glow, but she forced the magic back down, it was not yet the time for that.

Boulders crept up on her from both sides. Her slim body and soft face did not hint at her quick movements as she leapt from one to another. The castle loomed closer as she made her ascent. She left behind her fears of the forest with every leap, forgetting the wolf in every effort to reach her goal. Soon, she would forget that silly mortal fear, and be one with her destiny. Her surefootedness surpassed any before who had attempted the treacherous journey, and none possessed the power or skill that she did.

The clamber over the boulders was a quick and easy one. She stood tall upon the highest boulder, looking at the castle; her black cloak billowing behind her in waves. The woman in black wore a pair of leather hiking boots, specially padded for soft running and climbing. She also wore a black hunting suit, and a long claymore was strapped across her back. There was power beyond imagining hidden within the sword and it could only be called upon by one who knew how to use it.

She stepped quickly from the rock and walked toward the castle. Statues loomed on both sides. They were stone representations of dragons and they towered over all that dared to approach. The smell of rain dissipated, death and despair quickly taking its place. She saw bones of men who had failed in their tasks, lying about where she walked. She laughed. These men were foolish. Only a woman could give birth to a New World; which is what she would do once she had her treasure.

It had been rumored that any that approached the guardians that didn’t wield the power needed to get by, would die slowly and painfully at their feet. There was no way to reach the castle without passing between them. She had studied well. Only one who had passed the tests could bear arms against others with the prize that many sought; the Book of the Dead. These tests were to prove who was worthy of such a prize. Confidence coursed throughout the woman in black as she strode past the snarling dragons, her long red hair flowing with a breeze. She could feel them probe every inch of her.

Look at us child, embrace us, you are not worthy. No one is worthy.

Yes, spoke up the other dragon. No one is worthy, especially not a bastard child girl that is lost, with no light to show her the way home. Little orphan Annie, look at us.

Their now glowing red eyes bore into her. They looked her up and down like hungry lustful men, searching for her weakness. Her mind felt pulled and torn, but she kept her eyes focused and refused their beckoning call. She could hear them call to her to look upon them, so they could finish her miserable life.

You think that just because you lost your father, that you are owed something in this life? You are owed nothing, you are nothing! One of the dragons snarled.

You may be the descendant of Morgana, but that does not make you worthy to take that which was once hers, came the other.

She fought back the retort she felt forming. They could read her mind, they knew about her—so what? That did not change anything nor deter her from her course. Morgana le Fey was her ancestor, and like her, she would lay claim to her birthright. These bitches had nothing to say that would make her change her mind. Sweat started to pour down her face as her nervousness grew, overwhelming her concentration. Despite her determination, she felt her confidence slip.

Look at us! they cried in unison, but that was their last attempt to stop her.

She was past them, but not yet proven worthy. The first test completed, she walked faster, avoiding the other numerous pitfalls around her. There were stones that would give way to an abyss, snakes that would poison the mind as well as the body, and arrows that would fill the mind with despair as her bodily functions failed one by one. The next test could be quickly disposed; the dangers around them could not. She had knowledge of this and that made her powerful.

The second test, the test of skill, loomed before her like a knowing father. A knight stood guard before a set of stairs that led toward the castle. Two rock walls shot straight up from either side, forcing the advancer to go through the knight. He was clad in armor common during the eleventh century and looked worse than the museum pieces she’d seen over the years. The feathered helmet did not move as she drew closer. The breastplate shone with the moonlight’s reflection, a gleaming two-headed axe was held within his right hand. As she approached, she noticed that her reflection could be seen in the knight’s armor.

When the intruder was within five feet of the knight, movement caught her eye; the feather upon the knight’s helm quivering with life. Two blood red orbs appeared in the helmet and the knight was instantly full of life; his axe swinging swiftly down upon the intruder.

The woman in black was quicker, dodging the blow without hesitation. The long sword came up from beneath the cloak, power surging throughout it as she brought it to bear. The sword began to glow as heat came off it in waves. The knight raised the axe above his head, preparing to make another swing.

Unexpectedly the knight lunged at her. Startled, her reaction was slower, and she was caught with the force of the blow. The long sword was flung from her hand as she struck the ground with her right shoulder. Pain flared up her side. She felt nausea try to make her pass out and she fought it.

He hovered over her, red eyes watching. Did you really think you’d get past me? he asked within her mind, his laugh echoing in the depths of her soul. Those dragons have always been fools and I’m surprised you got past them. You are not worthy! She could almost hear him snarling when he said that last. He brought the axe over his head, ready to deliver the final blow.

The woman’s senses flooded her once again. The knight brought the axe down, but she rolled over and out of the way as it struck the stone where she had been an instant before. She crouched and watched the knight as he turned to face her.

Nice moves. Why not give up? I promise to make it quick, he said, as he tossed the axe from hand to hand. Then he gripped it tightly and brought it down again.

She leapt out of the way and landed by her sword. Her hand grasped it and she felt the power pour into her. She lifted her weapon before her and got to her feet. Try me, she said, her voice deep and filled with power. She could see him hesitate, but the years of confidence would be his undoing.

The axe came at her again and she held her ground. It hit the sword with earth-shattering force but did not budge. The axe shattered, crumbling to dust as the sword’s power leapt up and enveloped it. The power then surged into the knight and a howl rose from him as it ran over and through his body. His body convulsed, a black pulsing light engulfing his armor. The armor disappeared and the howl faded. The knight was silent as the red orbs retreated back into nothing.

Sweat ran down her body in streams, she could feel it slide along the curves of her breast and down towards her waist. She had narrowly missed death. She could feel herself shake from within and she forced it from her and concentrated on the task at hand. The woman stepped over the place the knight had been and started to climb the stairs. She felt a slicing pain across her back and caught a flash of light behind her. She went down on her knees, hands grasping the stairs, sword falling in front of her. She could hear laughing from behind. Anger rose within and she grasped the sword so tight, her palm went white with pressure. She rose and turned on her attacker, back stinging and the warm trickle of blood warming her back.

At first, she thought he had fled, he was nowhere to be found. She scanned the area looking for a sign of where he hid. Then she saw the axe hovering five feet away and realized that he was waiting for her to reenter the arena.

I beat you, she spat at him. She undid her cloak and let it fall to the floor. She brought her sword around, ready to fight again.

You have no idea what you are dealing with, much less how to defeat someone who has been dead for hundreds of years. I did not become the Guardian of the Second Test by letting little girls get the better of me, he snarled back.

She could not see him; all she could see was the axe, hovering. That would make it tougher. If he dropped the axe how would she find him?

She stepped forward, feeling a little like Darth Vader. Her sword dancing in the moonlight. Bring it on, old man, she commanded, and he complied. The axe came up and around, she deflected it and pushed him with her blade. The axe danced in mid-air, then came across in a sweeping motion. She deflected it again, brought her sword up in an arc, then reversed and sliced through the air in a downward motion. She could hear him cry out in pain but could not see what she had hit.

Blindly, she waited for him to attack again.

Then what she feared most happened, he dropped the axe. It fell dead to the floor with a loud clang. An image flashed in her mind, the axe had been destroyed earlier, where had he acquired another? She turned to look in the corner and was just in time to duck as a dagger flew from a nearby weapons rack. How could she have missed that? Was it there before? Cursing, she advanced on it, sword deflecting the weapons flung at her. Then it ceased, and all was silent.

She remained there for a second; the only sound was her harsh breathing as she waited for his next move. Come out, you coward, she cried out in anger. Show yourself!

She felt an arm close around her throat and her lifeline closed as she grasped for air. Her sword almost dropped from her hand as her other one flashed upward to grab the arm that was choking off her air supply.

I have never been beaten and I will not let you be the first, he growled. She was beginning to see stars as her life started to slip away.

NO! she yelled, grabbing her attacker’s arm, using her body weight to shift backward, pulling him up and over her. She could feel the impact as his body hit the ground. Quickly, before he could move, she brought her sword down on where she thought his heart would be. He cried out in agony, the scream piercing her mind and ringing throughout her body. The scream died out and she could hear him gasping at the stale air, probably out of habit. After all, wasn’t he dead?

It can’t end like this, she heard aloud. His body appeared on the arena floor, sword buried in his chest. He was wearing chain mail and brown leather pads. His brown hair was braided and lay clumped by the side of his head. His blue eyes stared up at hers, his face pleading. Please, you do not know what you are doing, you can’t let this happen. Turn away—go home—, he gasped, but then blood filled his mouth and he was unable to speak further.

I am home, she replied, intensifying her grip on the sword and giving it a twist. The knight’s face relaxed as the sword was wrenched free. His body started to crack. Dust was all that remained as the wind hit and shattered the ashy form, leaving not a trace that he had ever been there.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her cloak and swung it around her shoulders once more. This test had been harder than she had thought. He had given quite a fight. But luckily that was as hard as it was going to get as she was confident that the next would be easier than the first two. She smiled as she turned back to the stairs. As she wearily dragged herself up the steps, her feet got tangled and she fell to the ground. An arrow shot out across the air from a hole in the stone wall. Yet again, the woman in black was quicker than expected. She moved with a speed unknown to a common man as she leapt out of the way seconds before it passed through the space she previously occupied. The arrow slammed into stone wall with a clink and landed harmlessly on the floor, poison gleaming in the moonlight as it dripped from the arrow’s point.

She swore at her mistake and moved on more cautiously. The staircase ended and the walls to her sides came to a halt. The half-moon poked through the clouds long enough to see the woman step closer to the castle. Then it hid again within the blanket of gray and white.

The castle lay before her and all that stood between her and it, was a clearing, a moat, and the outer gates. She walked across the clearing to the gates and opened them with little effort; they weren’t even locked. She stepped onto the stone flooring that stretched forward only few feet but lined the inner ward. A faded crest had been carved upon the stones; the royal crest of the dragon.

She took in the castle. Two towers loomed to either side of her; the third main tower stood in the middle. The main tower was the highest of them all and it seemed to reach for the heavens. One window could be seen near the top of each and iron fences stretched from the places where the towers touched the main wall. Ten flags lined the wall, each bearing the mark of the dragon. A drawbridge lay in front of her, having been sealed for centuries. A moat stretched out across the borders of the great castle but was void of water; the river feeding it long since diverted in other directions.

The sight was so magnificent that the woman temporarily lost herself. Drawing herself back, basking in the beauty, she walked over to the edge of the platform before her. She stepped up to the first step of five that led to the top and prepared for what was to come.

Calling upon her last bit of strength and courage, her arms rose towards the stars in a gesture common to the legends of wizards. The air sizzled with electricity. She drew upon the power she had possessed since puberty and let it fill her. Storm clouds developed quickly overhead, lightning striking, and thunder following instantaneously. A string of creaks rose from within the castle. The sound of machinery started to rumble loudly and then the moaning of rusty hinges shook the air. The drawbridge slowly lowered onto the platform, dust flying everywhere.

A smile parted her lips as she stepped onto the drawbridge and walked across it towards the inner defenses of the castle. The sturdy English oak beneath her feet was as strong now as it was then. She entered the castle walls and looked around. As old as it was, it still held the fragrance of centuries worth of people. She continued past the walls, the inner defenses, and entered the city within. The royal palace rose before her as she slid down Main Street. The palace seemed to have eyes and it looked down upon her like a mother would a child, for it seemed to know that for all the centuries it waited, the wait was over.

She had passed the three tests. The third was gaining the castle walls. Now she knew that little resistance would be met along her way to destiny. The castle walls rose from behind, the mountain it rested upon towering over it. She also knew that on the west side of the castle, a cliff dropped a thousand feet to the ocean below. The placement of the Keep was perfect for defense and would have been very hard to lay siege to back in the day.

Yes, come to me my child.

She welcomed the voice and felt herself slipping away.

The common people’s homes that lined the street on both sides of her were battered and worn through with age. She entered the courtyard of the palace and started for the front doors. Darkness enveloped everything around her, evil emanating from every core of it’s being. She felt it and found herself longing for its touch. She wanted to become part of it but she knew that if she did, she would no longer be in control; it would.

Too late for that, she told herself as she entered the palace.

Evil surrounded her instantly, trying to bond with her own. She forced it out of her and fought to control it. Walking down the main hall and through the corridor she felt she knew by heart, she fought an endless battle against the power seeking to fill her.

She walked into the king’s quarters and looked around. A bed made of gallant material was on one side, a suit of armor befitting a king on the other. A large window with a balcony looked down at his kingdom to the south. She could smell none of the dust that should have been there. Her eyes locked at the treasure in the center of the room, her heart skipping a beat and her eyes widening. All her life she sought this one thing; this one way out of her already boring existence, and now here it was at last. She stepped boldly into the room, then raised her arms into the air. Come, she whispered, not able to find her voice.

At first nothing happened. Then a gust of wind struck up suddenly and her cloak whipped behind her, her wavy red hair flying with it. With her arms still raised in a beckoning call, she cried out louder for it to come to her; her eyes starting to glow. At first, they were a soft pink, then they began to glow a bloody red. A light lifted from her eyes, surrounding everything in her sight. She watched intently as the talisman started to glow as well. It sat upon a podium made of silver. The cover of the book was a bright red and was made of a type of leather that never tore. A dragon, not unlike the royal crest, was engraved on the cover. The thick book began to shake, then it rose off the pedestal and into the air.

The power surrounding it was unimaginable and was only told in legend. It hovered in the air at first, then it started to float towards her outstretched arms. As it approached, her arms lifted wide in anticipation.

Slowly, the book started to lower. As it did, she realized that this was what her life was meant for; this was why her mother brought her into this world. To fulfill the prophecy given by druids before they were driven west out of fear; fear that they may have been right.

The book lowered into her hands and she could feel the fire burn through her. She embraced the feeling of power. Her own resisted but was overwhelmed and finally intermingled with the power of the book. She tightened her grip on it, then raised it high above her head and laughed in triumph. Her laugh started slow and soft but started to grow louder and thicker; her voice was full of power that wasn’t there before.

The woman that had been there before was destroyed in the wake of the monster that followed.

Part I

We're going off tonight,

To kick out every light,

Take anything we want,

Drink everything in sight,

We're going till the world stops turning,

While we burn it to the ground tonight.

Nickelback

Burn it to the ground

for Tabby

Chapter 1

Ferrets

I

While John fought for his life on a distant battlefield to the north, Tristan sat by himself, looking over the Jagre Plains, lost in the grief of what had been done to him. For an unknown reason, Merlin had led them back to the spot where they’d been kidnapped, more than likely because that’s where their pack horses had been left. Whether they’d continue by horse or on those enormous beasts, he neither cared nor wished to speculate.

During the battle, he had picked up on the name griffin, and that turned out to be exactly what these things were called. Whether he’d gleaned it from Merlin’s mind or recalled it from the recesses of his memory—didn’t really seem to matter. Another beast of legend had come to life, and yet his heart didn’t care to think on that either.

He watched the sun as it began to lower towards the horizon and thought back over what life had been like just a mere week before. The boring life that he’d led, the happiness he’d felt with his future wife by his side; he didn’t feel like he’d ever be that person again. Something had been stripped from his soul, his inner sanctum violated, and his body unclean. He was rubbing at his arms even now, as if covered in some grime that would never come off.

In the foreground was a river, which, if followed north, would take him back to Crystal Cove and his home. Though part of him wanted to do just that, get up and start walking, another felt that it was the one place he couldn’t bear to return. How could he look upon his brother’s face after what had just happened? Whether he could have done something about it or not didn’t matter; it had happened.

Ashamed, he began to rise but halted when he felt a hand touch him on the shoulder. Recoiling, he jerked from its touch, his flight reaction pushing him yards away before he turned to see Willow crouched down, her fingers extended, a worried look on her face. He couldn’t stop scrambling, feet digging into the ground, trying to get away from her as fast as possible.

He was unclean. He was not fit to be touched.

Leave me alone, he muttered, fear oozing through every word. She couldn’t touch him, not like this.

Tristan, she pleaded, trying to get through to him.

He knew she was hurting as well, but he couldn’t deal with that right now. He had enough to work through, including this itching feeling that his clothes were filled with the plague. He shook his head violently and got to his feet. Running, he stripped off all of his clothes and flung them as far as he could. Head down, he dove into the nearby stream, immersing his body in its cold welcoming hands.

The itching immediately felt soothed and he remained under as long as his lungs could bear. Finally rising to the surface, he put his feet down and slowly slid his shoulders free. He was filled with this uncontrollable urge to scrub every inch of his body, his fingers digging into his hair, almost pulling it out at the roots. Hands rubbed at his arms and a chill rose up his spine as he tried to force that evil witch’s touch off of him.

He screamed in agony, the water barely helping get rid of the filth he felt inside as well as out. Grief over what had happened, what had almost happened, the violation of his mind; it was all just too much. He cried out again, tears ripping forth from his soul as he worked to purify what had been done to him.

As his fingers dug into his skin, his eyes fleetingly glanced at the nearby embankment and he could see Kylee hugging Willow and dragging her away in fresh tears. His mind pushed it aside, unable to handle more than what already burdened it. A figure was standing to his left and he saw the mage, the infernal mage that had started all of this. The fighting, the numerous times he’d almost been killed, the death of Melissa, all of it due to that fuc—

Here’s some soap, I think it’ll help, Merlin told him softly, his eyes saddened, his sympathy sincere. An object was in his hands and he lobbed it into the water.

His eyes followed it as it landed near him, and without thinking about it, his left hand snatched it up and started rubbing it all over his body. Even immersed in water where the soap would be useless, he scrubbed himself raw, his crotch burning from the immense pressure behind his thrusts. He had no words, nothing but tears, and the mage watched him quietly, letting him continue to clean what had been dirtied.

Jared, Reyna, and I are going to the nearby village of Guoldi to stock up on supplies, Merlin told him softly, concerned eyes trained on his scrubbing hands.

And?

And I need you to do me a favor while I’m gone, the mage told him.

Fat chance. You did this to me. You may have not been directly responsible, but I am here right now because of you.

Merlin flinched; he had heard every word. Instead of responding immediately, he reached into that bag of his at his side, as if anything he pulled out of there would somehow soothe the filth plaguing his soul. His hands withdrew a brown and white ferret, the creature barely looking alive, mouth opened, eyes squinted shut, a slight squeal issuing forth as he laid it quietly on the ground. I can’t take her with me, she’s barely hanging on as it is.

You want me to babysit your pet rat? Whatever. Just leave me the hell alone. If you’d just done that to begin with—

The anger was rolling through his bones and he was taking it out on his naked form. His feet were now getting scrubbed harder than he’d ever done before as his mind tried to control this irresistible urge to tear his skin off and start cleaning it from underneath. Tears streaked down his face as he once again soaped his hair, fingers pulling clumps of it free with the ferociousness of his grip.

I found her in the keep and I couldn’t leave her behind. She’s just had a traumatic experience and I think she needs someone to be close to, someone that would understand, the mage explained, but he still didn’t see why he should care. In the old world, before the Phoenix, when people experienced abuse like you just have, they would go to support groups to talk about it with people that knew exactly how they felt. I know you won’t talk to me, and right now you can’t talk to Willow, but you have to talk to somebody. If you keep it in, if you don’t give it air, it will fester and drive you insane. Don’t do it for me, or this quest, or for anything in the world other than your fiancé, who loves you dearly, and is over there crying right now because she is powerless to do anything to help you. She’s got demons of her own, but she has her sister to talk to and their support for one another is helping to alleviate some of her pain, but she needs you. What happened can’t be undone and no one here will understand, but try talking to my little friend here, you might start feeling better. And no, tearing your skin off is a very bad idea. Just soak for a while, take care of my little friend, and we’ll be back as soon as we can.

The mage turned and walked away, leaving the trembling ferret on the embankment behind.

How could he talk about it? What good would it do? His mind had been invaded, his body controlled by an evil witch and forced to perform a disgusting act while he had been powerless to stop it. He could still feel her hips grinding on him, her tongue probing his mouth, her hands on his chest. No matter how much he scrubbed, he could not be free of her evil touch. Even her death did not seem comfort enough.

Yet, even that seemed another violation of his soul. He had murdered a helpless woman and a sick part of him had enjoyed it. She had been frozen in place, supposedly by their friendly telepath, while he had walked up and plunged a sword in her gut, right where the unborn fetus had been festering, yearning to be born. He had relished yanking his sword upward, feeling the blood spout out of her flesh and run down his arm. He had felt joy when he heard her dying breath and watched the light fade from her eyes. What kind of monster enjoys something horrid like that? What had he become?

He knew that he didn’t regret it, as the witch deserved everything she got, but a part of him, the innocent boy that’d he’d been not too long ago, had died the instant that blade had entered her flesh. His childhood was stripped away and what was left was a grieving tortured shell full of anger and rage at the world, barely held in check by the flaming death of his friend.

I can help thou through this.

Shut up, he told the inner voice, shutting it down.

The itching had been replaced by a terrible raw burning and he knew that if he pushed it much further, he’d break open the skin and start to bleed. Forcing his fingers open, he let go of the soap, and watched it pop out of the water and begin to float downstream. Taking a few steps forward, he approached the side of the river, careful to keep his shoulders below the water, despite how crouched he’d become.

His eyes fell on the shivering ferret, and he watched the poor creature tremble uncontrollably. Before he knew it, he began talking, his soul pouring forth in a flood of words that could not be spoken to any other. Grief rolled out of him for what he’d lost, anger filled his words at what had been done, and sorrow filled his heart for what he’d become. Though he knew that there was no way the ferret comprehended what he was saying, he continued to talk until it had all been said, and nothing was left but the pain wrecking his heart.

Reaching out, he touched the trembling creature and when his fingers brushed the fur, it suddenly stopped shivering and allowed him to stroke it. Crying, he petted the ferret and slowly made his way out of the water. To his left was a stack of clothes, and he somehow knew that Merlin had placed it there for when he finally emerged. It wasn’t in his heart to be thankful, but he reached over silently and began dressing himself once more.

As he sat there by the river listening to the stream rush past, he reached out and picked up his new companion and laid her in his lap. He began talking again, unable to find the perfect expressions for his soul, but talking nonetheless. Whatever else had been wrong about this new existence of his, Merlin had been right, he was feeling better having someone to talk to. He was nowhere near ready to be near anyone else, but at least the insane urge to scrub himself raw had passed.

He felt a slight nip on his fingers and he smiled weakly in response. She was right, you know, it was our fault that she died. If we’d just left her alone, refused to let her come along, she’d still be up there in that cave combing her hair and flashing that constant smirk. Merlin’s not totally to blame, he was gone by the time we left, and I’m just as responsible as he is for what happened to her.

As much as I hated having her in my mind, constantly trying to flirt with me, I’d give anything just to have her back here, smirking at me once more, he whispered quietly to the creature, his fingers silently stroking its fur.

The shivering had stopped, and he somehow felt that maybe he’d been understood after all. I wish I could have helped her, done something more to save her, he commented, staring off across the grasslands beyond, lost in thought.

You did everything you could, a soft voice whispered in his head and he suddenly jerked back to himself.

No, it couldn’t be.

Melissa? he blurted out, eyes darting around him trying to see if the magician had somehow survived and had snuck up on him from behind. Kylee and Willow were sitting downstream, heads together, lost in their conversation, and he could see Token back at the campsite fiddling around with dinner, but nothing of the source of that voice.

Kore strode into view carrying a large furry object over his shoulder. He watched as Kylee suddenly leapt to her feet and charged across the field to the returning orc. Willow got up, shot him a quick glance of concern, and then darted after her. Seems like another reunion was about to take place.

Too bad he had imagined his.

I’m sorry I couldn’t stop what she did to you, the voice said again, and he closed his eyes, sure that it was the guilt in his soul speaking with her voice. After everything that had happened, how could he not be disturbed enough to be talking to himself?

There was nothing that you could’ve done, nothing anyone could’ve done, to prevent what happened. I was not strong enough, and I should’ve been. As many times as Merlin’s said it, how often Melissa flaunted it, I knew deep inside that leaving myself open and unable to defend myself would eventually lead to something horrible happening. I just couldn’t imagine it’d be as bad as how I’m feeling right now, he responded, his voice cracking as he broke out into fresh sobs.

Try feeling your flesh being burned off, your body being cooked from the inside, and your brain leaking out in quick bursts of steam, the voice argued, and he flinched at the vehemence behind the words. Where the hell had that come from?

He couldn’t think straight, the past day replaying in his head over and over. His body flinched with the breeze as he once again felt her nails on him. Every dry gulp made him remember her tongue. The burning from his scrubbing reminded him of every second he’d been under that witch’s control. How could he continue on this quest? He was not fit to go on like this.

One foot in front of the other, one day at a time. That’s what they say, but its total crap. I mean, who comes up with this shit? Of course you’re going to take it one day at a time, what’s the alternative, shooting yourself in the head? Try surviving that and see how more screwed up you become, Melissa’s voice spoke once more.

How could his subconscious mimic her so easily?

He felt tiny paws on his chest and looked down to see the ferret sniffing at his nose. Then it licked him lightly on the lips, touched its nose to his, and went back to curling on his lap. At least I finally got to kiss you.

Okay, what the hell? he blurted, shifting and feeling the ferret’s nails dig into his skin as it struggled to stay in place.

Quit wiggling around, my body is still recovering here. Merlin healed what he could, but I can still feel the flames licking me and my insides cooking. He said to look after me and talk, not throw me around and yell, the voice snarked again and he instantly knew that it was the damn ferret invading his head. And it sounded exactly like Melissa. Your lap is pretty comfy, but you are still a bit daft in the brain, Melissa told him, and he could hear that familiar smirk in her tone of voice. He reached down and stroked the ferret, not daring to hope, but unable to help it.

You’re alive?

If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep that between us, I’m just not ready to be around the others.

He could sympathize with that feeling as he looked to the group clustered around Tuskar, the wolf hopping happily within Kylee’s arms. So much happiness was not something he needed to be around right now. He was content to stay right where he was.

But how? he asked her, stroking her fur lightly.

While we were in the cells I split myself. It was quite painful and though there were essentially two of me, we shared everything that the other felt and experienced. As a ferret, I was able to slip free of the cell and work my way out of the dungeon, but the part of me that remained behind was shackled, thrown on a pyre and burned. I felt every agonizing second of it and when Merlin arrived, he heard my screams and rushed into the keep to retrieve me. Throwing me in that sack of his didn’t cut my connection to my other self, but at least I survived; if that’s what you call this. You know, they talk about what it would be like to be at your own funeral. I just want to say, that’s crap too. I don’t recommend it.

He felt extremely content that one of the horrors he’d thought would be dwelling within his soul had been nudged loose and freed. He had the memories of that blaze forever etched in his mind, but the sorrow that accompanied it was now gone. You heard everything I said earlier, didn’t you?

The ferret turned its head and winked at him.

That includes watching me bathe as well right? He didn’t need to ask. That part about wishing that we’d—.

Don’t worry about it. I know how much you love her. But I do think it’s time you get up and tell her that. She had a horrible experience herself and what you really need right now is each other.

He sighed and looked to where Willow stood, her arms across her chest, her swollen eyes staring at him. He hated how much she was right. But how could he put it into words?

Start with one, the rest will come, Melissa offered softly, and he was suddenly grateful she was there.

Picking her up, he placed her around his