text: Red. Your entire vision is filled with red. A driving, insatiable force drives you forward. You can't stop, nor do you want to. The weak, the undevoted, the blasphemers. They all will pay for their wrong. Like separating wheat from the chaff, you will forge a better society, one that is not unencumbered by the weak-willed and naysayers.
  
  Each cleansing blow from your sword brings you one step closer. Each foreigner that falls brings a surge of energy and a curved smile to your lips. Your blade eats into flesh and drinks the flowing blood. "More!" it screams, and you satisfy its desire. You do not see faces, you do not hear their words. You simply kill. You kill for the Empire. You kill to cull the weak. You kill because it's all that you know.
  
  The bloodlust gone, the voice gives back control, and you see the result of your actions. You're in the center of a red pool, your hands stained the same. The blood is warm, like clutching a soothing cup of tea between both palms.
  
  Then you see her.
  
  She lays still as if asleep, one arm crossed at her chest, the other stretched out beside her body. Her bright blonde hair, the color that reminds you of sunlight, is dyed dark crimson. The two slashes at her throat are like a jagged, sanguine necklace. The others, Mordecai, Sue, Wren, lay next to her. You hardly notice them; your gaze is on Kassi, unmoving, unable to look away.
  
  Your stoic, expressionless demeanor vanishes as your screams fill the empty throne room. Just as suddenly as it disappeared, you regather your blank, emotionless demeanor. You close your eyes and focus on your training, using long, drawn-out breathing patterns to calm your heart rate. When you reopen your eyes, the Emperor stands before you.
  
  "A great victory has been won this day," he comments.
  
  "What of the cure?" you ask. "Have you uncovered the secrets to suppressing the voice?"
  
  The Emperor eyes the mess of bodies on the floor. "Not yet, I'm afraid. The collection of books here are not nearly as extensive as my spies informed. Still, I will have my top researchers work on it. There is one ritual that might work, but it involves giving in to the voice..."
  
  "Not going to happen. I've been controlled by it for too long. I'll not willingly surrender to it, even at the slight chance of eradicating it forever."
  
  "I thought you'd say that," The Emperor says. "We'll find a way. I've had my men prepare a room for you here. Come, rest up. Tomorrow brings the promise of greater glories."
  
  The Emperor motions to a man standing near the entryway. With a bow, he approaches.
  
  "Follow me, Commander. I'll show you your quarters," the youthful man speaks. You can tell by his clean appearance, he did not take part in the battle.
  
  "No," you say. "I need to bury her. I need to bury Kassi near the monastery."
  
  "I understand," The Emperor replies. "I will arrange a battalion to accompany."
  
  "With respect, that would dishonor her memory. She fought the Empire to her last breath," you say with full clarity of the statement. While you are technically a part of the Empire, an Imperial force near the monastery would be symbolic of the initial attack, something you'd rather not think about while putting Kassi to rest.
  
  "I'll not allow a high-ranking member of my army travel alone, especially in newly conquered territory. The threat is too high. You will go with a battalion or not at all," The Emperor adamantly states.
  
  > disobey the Emperor
  "As you wish, my Emperor," you say. "We'll depart at first light."
  
  The statement feels strange. It's the first time you've ever intentionally misled the Emperor. In fact, it's the first time you've intentionally misled anyone for years. You take pride in your practice, and that practice includes being direct and forthright. Still, this is a special circumstance. Even considering it "special" puts a damper on your mood. It's not special, your fucking world is turned upside down.
  
  You allow an Imperial soldier to lead to you the quarters provided. It's not as extravagant as the Emperor's tent, but it serves its purpose. It wouldn't be your place to dwell in a living arrangement that's nicer than your leader's anyway. The room itself is long and narrow. The ceiling is arced like a cabin would be, two sloping walls meeting at the center. Earth tones line the interior, nothing is fancy, but serves its purpose to the highest degree.
  
  You drop your things near the heavy wool-skinned bed and kneel on the floor beside it. Sitting on your heels, you close your eyes and meditate on your upcoming actions. The Emperor wouldn't be happy. Perhaps he would understand. You doubt it. Disobeying is disobeying, despite your place in the Empire. Once the light shining through the window fades to black, you prepare for the journey.
  
  You pack light, taking only what is necessary. Without the aid of Imperial transport, you'll need as little as possible weighing you down. Your sword is hung, familiar, on your hip. On it's opposite, you hang Kassi's sword. Two swords at your side, something you've never preferred, feels right in this moment. The blade was an important part of Kassi, her most prized possession. Having it at your side is a good reminder of your reasons for going against the Emperor. It's almost like having her at your side. Almost.
  
  The horse and cart is already prepared for the journey. You made sure to have it prepared the night before. A lone Imperial soldier stands guard at the stables, light for an Imperial patrol, but the rest of the "on duty" guards are most likely celebrating the victory.
  
  "Evening, Commander. Thought that was you. What can I do for you?" the baby-faced soldier speaks in to the night.
  
  "It's Ostus, right?" you ask.
  
  "That's right!" he beams. Adding on with a salute, he says, "Fredrick Ostus at your command."
  
  "You're a good soldier, Ostus. But you are needed elsewhere tonight. There are more high priority places to watch," you say.
  
  "Maybe so...although Dresden himself gave me this position. I can't disobey a superior, even if there is something better to do. It's how we stay functioning," Ostus shrugs. "Trust me, I'd rather be at with the boys celebrating. Don't tell Dresden that, but my job is to watch the stables and prevent any disorderly conduct."
  
  "You're a good man, Ostus. I hope when you wake, you'll forgive me."
  
  "Forgive you for wh--"
  
  Before Ostus finishes his sentence, the hilt of your sword smashes against his temple. His body crumples limply to the ground. You prop his body in a comfortable position, and take the reigns of the cart. It's a small cart, only driven by a single horse, but it's more than enough to lug the contents in the back. You signal the horse forward and ride off into the night.
  
  > continue on
  They arrived sooner than you expected. At first they appeared as birds flying in the distance. Black wings steadily gaining on your location, and that's when you recognize the "birds." Wyverns, three of them. Your traveling conditions offered almost no ability to conceal your path. It wasn't hard for them to find you — it's their hastiness that surprised you.
  
  Two of the winged beasts land at your front and one directly behind you. The trail is narrow, leaving almost no room for you to veer off to avoid their pursuit. Thick trees lie of either side, preventing the cart from being able to travel through. The first thing you notice is the horned helm. Sending flashbacks to your childhood, the day of the massacre, you instantly recognize the figure. The greatsword at his back, the one that stole the life of the Grandmaster hangs at the figure's back. Beneath the helm is a dark set of plate armor.
  
  "The Emperor had a feeling you might betray him," the voice behind the horns rings into the cool morning air.
  
  "There is no betrayal, only what must be done. A woman lies dead and must be buried," you say.
  
  "That's not what I heard," the dull, monotone voice answers. "Is that what you heard, Larkus?"
  
  The rider next to the horned helm shakes his head. "Not what I heard at all, Dresden."
  
  "Be on your way. I will rejoin the Emperor after a proper burial has taken place," you say. "Your intentions are no secret. The way you've positioned yourselves speak to only one outcome. Battle."
  
  "Newly conquered territories always are dangerous. There's no telling how the locals might react. Like, for say, they might set upon a lone Imperial member. It's dangerous to be alone, even for a well renown warrior such as yourself."
  
  Your hands let go of the reigns and their grip is replaced with sword handles. "Then let us not delay. I have a funeral to attend to. Seems I'll need to attend to yours first."
  
  With a snarl, the horned man, Dresden, attacks. His greatsword swings through the air with a low hum. The other two riders follow closely behind, their spears at the ready. You abandon the cart for open ground. The first wyvern dives down with frightening speed. It's only through your lifetime training that you're able to narrowly dodge the attack. A little luck never hurts too. You realize in the open, you're too exposed, and likely would be run down in a matter of time. Once again moving ground, you trade the open road for the surrounding forest neutralizing their aerial assault. Three men follow you into the thicket.
  
  Light is minimal in the forest. Overgrown branches, roots, and stumps fill your vision. It's hard to navigate through, even in your light armor. Going through with heavy plate would be a nightmare. You allow the environment to influence your battle plans, familiarizing yourself with the area. Long lunging and high overhead sweeping techniques would have to be discarded due to the overgrowth.
  
  Heavy footsteps draw closer. You lie in wait. They don't see you, not at first. In the open road you were their prey. Here you are the predator. Here, you will hunt them down. The first spear wielder doesn't even have time to react. From behind, you silently sneak up. Kassi's blade finds the front of his throat, the slight gap in armor where the helm doesn't quite reach the breastplate. His body collapses in the clanking of armor, alerting the other two.
  
  Through the thicket you see the twin horns heading in your direction. Quickly, you move to find cover. His plate boots stomp heavily on the forest floor. You wait until the sound reaches its highest point to strike. As if from the crow's nest, you swing down, one hand gripping a vine, the other around Kassi's hilt. The powerful strike, backed by the swinging momentum is difficult to land. You have adjust mid-swing to find the gap between armor. The blow sends both of you sprawling to the dirt, the horned helm knocked from Dresden's head.
  
  You almost don't recognize the man. Despite being decades ago, the youthful appearance of Dresden is replaced by a scarred, hairless face as if he suffered a terrible burn years ago. The scars extend down his neck disappearing into the black plate.
  
  Immediately, you land in a front roll and prepare for the next series of strikes. The helm missing, you have more exposed area to work with. Dresden knows it as well and keeps his greatsword high to block your upward-aimed advance. You're careful not to focus solely on one target, and mix in quick thrusts and a slices towards the plated body of Dresden. The strikes may bounce harmlessly off the armor, but the distraction non-linear approach is what you're aiming for.
  
  You unleash a barrage of well-executed strikes, sweeping low then high, weaving both blades through the air always moving forward, always setting up the next maneveour. When one blow is absorbed, you use the other sword to strike an undefended area. No defense is perfect. Eventually there's always an opening. You're alert, coiled like a serpent searching for exposed flesh where you will inject your deadly fangs. The opening is there, and you take full advantage.
  
  Almost simultaneously, pain rips through the side of your body. You look down to find a spearpoint sticking through the left side of your torso. The third rider, Larkus, stands over you with both hands clutching his spear. He rips the weapon back, tearing the point through the initial wound. A cry escapes your lips as you collapse in front of the fallen Dresden. Kassi's sword falls to the dirt and you use the open palm to cover the bleeding. Seeing you drop, Larkus rushes to Dresden's side. He cradles the man's head in his arms and attempts to treat the wound at his neck.
  
  You try to stand up. The most you can manage is placing one knee beneath you. Pain surges from your side. It's like grabbing a hot plate, except you can't let go. Larkus notices, and abandons his medical care of Dresden.
  
  "You deserve all of this and more," he says.
  
  "For what? Burying my oldest friend?" you answer.
  
  "Yes. The only loyalty you should have is for the Emperor."
  
  He approaches, spearpoint at the ready. Here, in your last moments, you don't feel the sense of regret most others would have. Death is not something new to you. For many years you've accepted that fact. It's truly the only certainty in life. You don't even regret siding with the Empire, the same Empire that's about to end your life. Everything's numb. Nothing really matters. The inevitable end has arrived and the gap between your birth and death is but memories soon to be dissolved with your last breath.
  
  "I'm ready," you state more to yourself than Larkus.
  
  Your vision blurs, then becomes blackness.
  
  > ...
  Two bright eyes stare intently at you. Instinctively, you sit up in the bed only to rediscover the pain at your side. You're in a small hut. Soft embers burn in the center of the room, rising through a gap in the rooftop. The eyes belong to a young girl, not much past ten years.
  
  "Rose. Go fetch our guest some tea," a man's voice rings from the doorway. The outside light, illuminating his frame, leaves his face mostly dark, although you see signs of a thick moustache. He approaches the bed, rolling the sleeves of his woodland-colored tunic up his arms, revealing sturdy forearms that are likely the result of years of workmanship. He sets a bow and quiver down next to the bed post. The bow may be of simple design, although the craft and quality of the wood are the finest you've ever seen -- and the Empire spares no expense when it comes to war equipment.
  
  "You have no love for the Empire," the man speaks, partly questioning.
  
  "In fairness, it has no love for me," you speak truthfully, carefully. You're uncertain if Dresden chased you down by direct command of the Emperor. He didn't strike you as someone who acted rogue. Then again, no one expected that of you.
  
  "Why were those men after you? It's not often for a wyvern triad to chase down a single cart." The man's eyes narrow, seeking signs of deception in yours.
  
  The cart! Kassi.
  
  "I must be on my way," you answer. "In the back of the cart, I was transporting the remains of my..."
  
  The words escape you. What was Kassi to you? "Friend" wouldn't do her justice. It wouldn't be an accurate description of the decades you spent joined at the hip. It wouldn't be telling of the fact that you knew everything about one another, your tendencies, what got under your skin. It wouldn't speak of the countless near-death experiences you shared, up until the moment your hands finished the tally. Your lover? You loved her, and she you. Still, your bond was deeper than the bodily connotation attached with that word. You find yourself at a loss for words. There is not a single word that would accurately describe your relationship with Kassi.
  
  "Wife."
  
  Close enough. That will have to do. The man finishes the sentence for you. He continues. "Brought your horse and cart out back. This is as good a place as any to bury a wife."
  
  Rose comes back with two cups. She hands one to you and one to her father. She looks up, expectantly, for you to take a sip. After thanking her, you raise the cup to your lips. Cool mint washes against your tongue like a fresh breath of air. The warm liquid instantly soothes and compliments the herbal flavor. Your hands fill with the warmth of the cup, comfortably drawing your attention away from the pain at your side.
  
  "The tea helps. I can speak from experience," the man says, lifting his shirt to reveal a sizable scar along the front of his mid-section. "My reward in service of 'King' Aeric. I have no love for the man, but I'd rather see him on the throne than some Imperial puppet."
  
  "Aeric is dead. You're now a part of the newest territory under the Empire's rule," you answer. "Thank you for saving my life. I really must be on my way. I need to put Kassi to rest."
  
  You attempt to rise from the bed, but the wound proves stronger. The combination of the blood loss and relaxing effects of the tea gently sooth you back to sleep. You slip in and out of consciousness for a few seconds, willing yourself to take back control. A pair of bright eyes watch your head fall to the pillow, peering from behind the sturdy frame of her father.
  
  You stand at her grave, one hand on her blade and the other at your cane. Your spear wound is mostly healed, though it still gives you problems. The walking cane, carved by Richard, helps with the sudden jolts of pain. Using the cane as support, you kneel into the dirt and place your palm on the simple tombstone.
  
  "Was this truly unavoidable, Kass?" you whisper. "You know I only left you to confront the darkness within me, to protect you from it. Perhaps I was always meant to end your life, destined even. By the same coin, no one knows how long they are destined to live. Our joined strength may have well extended both of our lives -- there's no way of knowing if this life, if both our lives, were tragedy or otherwise."
  
  The grave remains silent. You sense a pair of bright eyes watching you from behind a nearby tree.
  
  "Either draw near or don't. There's no use in second guessing yourself, girl," you speak.
  
  Shyly, she leaves the protection of the tree and kneels down next to you.
  
  "What's your name girl?" you ask.
  
  "Rose."
  
  "Well, Rose. You remind me of brave warrior I once knew. Would you like to hear about her?"
  
  Rose nods, her eyes shimmering aquamarine.
  
  "I knew her when we were about your age. Can you believe someone old like me was once young? Strange is the flow of time. In moments it feels as if a pond, still and unmoving. Other times it's a flowing river, with treacherous rapids to navigate. This warrior, Kassi, was truly special. She taught me almost everything I know, while being only a few years older than me. It was a great burden she bore for my sake, having to deal with my undisciplined self and not let it discourage her own progress. I was saw her fight off ten men with nothing more than a small dagger. That's the mark of a true warrior, always finding the path to victory, always willing to do whatever it takes."
  
  "You were in love?" Rose asks.
  
  "I loved her more than myself -- that's why I left her. Listen, Rose, love is tricky sometimes. You'll find that out in a few years. Sometimes it's in the best interest of the other person if you're not around them."
  
  You grab a handful of dirt from the burial mound and feel it slip through your fingers, feeling the soft tingle as it passes through. Your fingers and palm are left empty save for a small stain. "It's like this soil. I could clutch onto it tightly, protecting it from outside forces, but that would be detrimental to its purpose. No, better for it to be on the ground, at the risk of being trampled or washed away by rain. It's the only way for growth to happen."
  
  Leaning on the cane, you place your shins on the ground, sitting on your heels. You motion for Rose to do the same. She follows your example, and looks up, expectantly with bright blue eyes. You place your hands on your lap and take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the air around you, with the final resting place of Kassi.
  
  The soft breeze whistles leaves into motion. The earthy smell from the dirt is still in the air, and you draw it in, putting the aroma to memory. You do as she taught you many years ago. You're uncertain of what your future has in store for you, but you will continue to practice. You will continue to honor her memory.
  
  "Want me to teach you to become like the brave warrior?" you ask.
  
  Rose nods.