“<i>Why have you forsaken us?”</i>A quiet voice echoed through Kallo's mind, a fragile whisper in the darkness.<i>“Why did you let us die?”</i>The question struck a wound deeper than any blade could, slicing to his very soul.<i>“We believed in you... and you led us astray...”</i>Sadness. Despair. Hopelessness. All these emotions swirled through the whisper in his mind, accusing him of his arrogance and failure. All of it was true. Painfully true. He had indeed led his brother and their band of fighters to certain death. More than death, as their souls had been taken by the darkness and devoured in front of his very eyes. With blind arrogance, he had led them to the pit of plague and darkness which spread across the land, devouring everything it touched, twisting and molesting anything in it's path. How blind had he truly been to think that they could match the might of a God? His brother and their brothers and sisters in arms paid the price he was due.<br/><br/>“<i>I..”</i>Kallo searched desperately through the empty void in his mind, hoping in vain to see his brother again, to know that his brother's soul was safe. An empty lie within himself, for he knew the truth, no matter the pain it caused him.<i>“I did everything I could to save you brother...”</i>Raw emotion cracked his whispered thought, his normally stoic armor cracking and falling to pieces.<i> “I wasn't strong enough.” </i>Racked with guilt and anger, Kallo fell into the depths of his mind, allowing, welcoming the pain and suffering of those whispers. He deserved as much, and more. So much more.<br/><br/>Shallow, ragged breaths were the only sound to be heard from Kallo as he laid on the nest of a bed within the hovel he had been carried into. His body was slick with sweat as the boon of his Goddess worked to heal his grievous wounds, both inside and out. Naked to the waist, the myriad of scars told a harrowing tale of pain and suffering, of survival and a sheer will to live, regardless of the damage taken. Several stretches of black pigment could be seen, contouring his muscles in a strange runic language, a language long dead. He had always worked hard to keep these runes hidden as they always brought questions and curiosity, to which he had no real answers. The lines worked with his sculpted frame, almost as if placed by a master artist, creating a somewhat exotic look, to an otherwise normal human form. The marks of his Goddess. Just another way he could never be free of her embrace.<br/><br/>If one were to watch closely, his wounds could be seen to dry up and begin to mend, ever so slightly and carefully, one by one, little by little. This boon did not come without it's discomforts, as any unnatural gift offered. Aching muscles, a splitting headache and a ravenous appetite would welcome him if he managed to wake from his slumber. There was no guarantee that he would, even though his body would be mended, the strain took a toll on his mind, on his very will to survive. His Goddess had chosen well though. This primal, instinctive man, simply did not know how to lay down and die, to give in a succumb to any difficulty or obstacle. In another time, his friends had joking referred to him as 'The Boyne', the local name for a raging river in his homeland, completely unforgiving in it's torrent if you chose to fight, yet calm and gentle if you simply allowed yourself to be swept along in it's current.<br/><br/>“<i>Do not despair my champion.” </i>A voice of pure silk swept through his mind, caressing the sharp, damaged edges of his soul.<i>“Do not let these demons lead you astray.”</i>Sweet like wildflower honey, yet somehow hard as forged steel, unwavering in it's determination and strength. Kallo would never forget the sound of her voice, the purity and calm it brought to his raging mind. His Goddess would always be there, despite his pleas to be left in peace, to have this boon placed on another soul, someone who truly deserved such a reward.<i> “You are stronger than they could ever hope to be... even before I came to you and gave you my devotion, my love.”</i>He could almost feel a soft, gentle caress along his jawline, the touch of a lover.<i>“My sweet champion. You must wake now. You're journey is not yet finished.”</i><br/><br/>Pale blue orbs flicked open, clear as ice in the dead of winter, the pupils dilating in the low light of a single candle's flame. Kallo kept his breathing shallow and ragged, not wanting to alert anyone who might be nearby, to his sudden consciousness. Sadness fell over him as he slowly examined his immediate surroundings. As much as he hated to be his Goddess' champion, a part of him loved her for it, longed for the sweet sound of her voice. Quickly pushing the thoughts and emotions aside, he began to realize that he was in someone's home, if that is what one would call this small, hollowed out hole in the ground. Dirt walls, crisscrossed with roots of all sizes, surrounded him, along with a plethora of books and small oddities, such as dried herbs and small jars of variously colored liquids. The salty, metallic smell of red meat cause a small rumble in his stomach, just as his pale blue gaze fell on the small woman sitting beside the bed, a strange book held gently in her hands, gold eyes scanning every word on each page.<br/><br/>Ignoring the fatigue in his muscles, and the splitting headache that accompanied his consciousness, he pushed himself up and turned to face the woman, his eyes locked on her like a predator sighted on prey. He had no idea how long he had been in this woman's home, but the dryness in his mouth and gnawing hunger in his stomach, told him that it had to have been half a day or more. Instinct forced his right hand to lift to his left shoulder, grasping at a blade that was no longer there, his bare fingers brushing across his equally bare shoulder. His stomach sank at the realization that he was utterly vulnerable in his current situation, a feeling he was not comfortable with.<br/><br/>“Who are you.” A gruff, tenor voice slipped from his lips as he searched the woman up and down. The only weapons he could see were a wooden staff and a small, almost dainty, dagger at her hip. Staff. His mind raced with the implications of that simple piece of wood. There was simply no way that he had been lucky enough to be taken in by the very one he sought. A small woman with a wooden staff, somewhere deep within this forest. That's all the info he had been able to glean about another chosen, another of his kind, who had been seen within a hundred miles. Roughly pushing the hope from his mind, he began to search for an exit, as well as a weapon that was within reach. Kallo was in no shape for a fight, but the fire within his soul would not allow him to be taken by surprise by this strange woman.<br/><br/>“Why have you brought me to this place?” With a voice like cold steel, he demanded answers, demanded that he be heard. As he spoke, his hand dropped to his stomach to touch his wound, only to feel cold, moist moss covering what was left of his wound. Brushing the moss from his midsection, a soft snort showed his disdain for such tribal practices, revealed a slightly raised, pinkish scar, the only memory of what should have been a fatal wound. “You should not be out here alone lass... it is more than a little dangerous in this forest.” Hope began to surface in his mind once again. Was this indeed the witch he had been searching for? How else could such a small, woman survive alone in this forest.