Sujon awoke from a dream of terrifying darkness, a dream where his own mother looked at him like she hated him and reached out to his chained body, giving him a soft kiss on the forehead. The mockery of a mother's love had chilled him, but not as much as the feel of evil clawing it's way through his body, burning away all the good things in him, all the soft and loving feelings he had, leaving behind only the things too deeply buried in him for her to touch. He was left with nothing but duty and honor, and she promised him in a cold voice that soon enough his own actions would take both from him. It was enough to force Sujon to cry out, even as he realized the horrible vision was over.

It felt as if the dream still clung to him, even as he looked around his room, like it was so powerful that even waking from the dream was not enough to be rid of it, and it's clinging foulness. He shivered in the chill morning air, the desire to do something, anything, to drive the dream out of his mind overpowering. The icy stones under his feet did nothing but spur him on, as he raced through his dressing in a flash. He nearly flew out of the castle, coming to a stop in front of Tarrial's hut, his hand raised hesitantly.

Before he could knock, the door opened, almost as if Tarrial had sensed a presence outside his door. As he stood there, looking down at his student with an unemotional gaze, Sujon beamed with relief. "Can we start our training early today?" He begged, feeling the nightmare fade just by being near Tarrial. Sujon had come to find the oddest comfort in his mentor's calm, unchangeable demeanor. For the excitable youth, Tarrial was a sort of bulwark, a constant in the otherwise unstable world.

"If you'd like." His teacher replied in a flat tone that further soothed the youngster. Though the tone had no emotion, to Sujon it sounded tolerant and understanding. His guide grabbed the staves that rested by the door and headed to the practice field, his steps slow and measured. Sujon darted out beside him, wiggling and squirming like a puppy that has been caged indoors too long. Tarrial saw Sujon about to trip himself with the ends of the staves Tarrial held and adjusted his hold slightly to move them out of the way. "Calm down. You will injure yourself or others if you cannot pay attention to your surroundings." Tarrial said, even as he tosses Sujon a quarterstaff. "We will move onto swords soon, and I do not wish to have to explain to your father why you impaled one of his guards."

"Yes sir," Sujon said, catching the staff and still jittering like a leaf in a strong breeze. Slowly though the training calmed him, the repetitive motions leaving him no choice but to calm and allow the last of his nervous energy drain away in the grueling exercise. The soft crack of wood on wood echoed only slightly, much of the noise swallowed up by the predawn mist that curled around the keep and all in it. It left them both feeling oddly as if they were in their own world, as if the worries and concerns of everything past the training field had disappeared and left only them, only the purity of the weapons and their wielder working in harmony. Even Tarrial relaxed slightly, a serene blankness replacing his normal guarded expression.

The dance of weapons-master and student went on as the mist slowly burned away, leaving the field exposed to the onlookers that always gathered. The majority were the castle's guard, and to men who earned their living by fighting watching Tarrial in action, training Sujon, was like watching a master painter paint his greatest work. It was awe inspiring, the thing they all worked to be, and so when Tarrial and Sujon finally stopped, Sujon panting for breath and sporting a new bruise on his cheek, they noticed the crowd surrounding them. In the years that Sujon had trained with his mentor, he had picked up a few of Tarrial's habits and mannerisms. One of them was that he much preferred to be alone, or with a small select group of people. It was not that Sujon could not handle large groups of people, or even that he was uncomfortable in such surroundings. It was only a small thing, something that seemed so natural for a boy who was almost a teenager that no-one even thought of it. Of course the young boy would rather be with his friends than attend a large dinner party. Of course he would dislike being presented to crowds when his position as heir to the duke required it.

That little part of him rose now, and sent him scampering off with a brief explanation of "Missed breakfast. I'll see you at normal time." As he ran to the castle, Tarrial gathered the practice equipment with a wary eye on those around him. None of the men there could even make him raise an eyebrow one on one, but there were enough of them that he did not feel entirely comfortable. It was an aspect of having lived so long as a demon, but he absolutely could not stop himself from seeing everyone with suspicion. Well, almost always, he added to himself, knowing that he did not look at Sujon's father with that suspicion.

He strode back to his cabin with the practice equipment they had been using, some of the serenity of the morning clinging to him, enough to stop him from killing the man who grabbed his shoulder. It was not enough to stop him from throwing the man to the ground and placing a boot in his throat though. "What?" Tarrial demanded, before he had even seen who he had trapped, a slight pressure from death.

A boy about Sujon's age stared up at him, the gangly body and salt blonde hair declaring him as Kalit, one of Sujon's good friends. "What are you doing out here?" Tarrial asked as he moved his foot and allowed the youth to stand up, massaging his throat. "I was looking for Sujon." The boy replied, making a show of inspecting the surrounding area. "Gee, maybe he isn't here!" The overly-surprised tone of his voice was comical, but Tarrial just waved him away. As the boy bounded off in search of his friend, Tarrial mused that Kalit's big mouth was going to get him into no end of trouble one day, but privately, he found his irreverence amusing and slightly refreshing. It was certainly a change from the guardsmen fawning over him, or the maids that squeaked and scurried away like overgrown mice.

Others however did not share Tarrial's view of Kalit. The grim, serious weapons-master curbed Kalit at least a little bit, so he had never seen the boy's true nature. Sujon on the other hand was more than aware of what his friend was really like, and watched his approach with a thrill of excitement over what trouble they would find today, and an almost equal amount of worry over how much trouble would find them. The bouncing, clearly ecstatic walk of Kalit did nothing to soothe his worries, as anything that got his friend that excited was either against the laws or at the very least would be as soon as they proved the need for a law forbidding it.

"Sujon! I found the greatest thing! It's a secret passage and it goes on forever! Lets grab some of cooks pastries and go explore it! There could be monsters and stuff down there and we could come back heroes after we kill the beasts that would have come up and eaten us all in our sleep!" Among other things, Kalit had a vivid and adaptable imagination, capable of creating stories that made people laugh and cry, although his favorites were the ones that scared people. Sujon knew that he would hear many stories of what lay just ahead if he went with Kalit, and in the end that was what decided him. "Okay! Lets go, before anyone comes looking for us."

"For you you mean." Kalit groused good naturedly, pretending to hate that he could slip away unnoticed so easily, but Sujon knew his friend better than that. "Oh, and you wish they watched you?" He asked playfully as his friend led him through dark and dank sections of the castle. "Of course I do!" Exclaimed Kalit eagerly. "I mean, if they don't watch me, it sounds like bragging when I take credit for my pranks, and of course I am a modest and shy type of fellow, full of humbleness." He said this with a totally innocent, pious look, and Sujon immediately began laughing so hard that he could barely stand.

"What?" Kalit demanded in injured tones, while a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'll have you know that no-one has ever accused me of having an over-sized ego." Sujon was still giggling as he asked "What about Meriha?" Kalit sniffed in irritation. "She was afraid of my charm." Sujon nodded his head solemnly, but his eyes were dancing with ill repressed amusement. "As are all girls in the keep and for about two hours walk each way." Sujon added in a mock-serious tone. "You must have lots and lots of charm for them to all be afraid of it."

"Yes, it's awful to be as charming and wonderful and nearly perfect as I am, but we all have our own problems." Kalit said in a long-suffering tone. Sujon, still laughing, just agreed with him, fully amused by his friend's antics as they took off into the depths of the castle, seeking out adventures and danger. Far away however, a plot was underway that would soon bring adventures to them that were greater than even Kalit's imagination could create.

The seer sat hunched over a crystal ball, his dark hair feathering over his brow as his eyes dart back and forth, captivated by images only he can see. Behind him stood the Dark Mother, a smirk playing across her full lips. "And the truth shall be a light into the dark." She quoted from the Book of the Worlds. "And with the light darkness will fade." The seer slumped back, saying softly "It is done. The clues as to Tarrial's true nature have been planted."

"Good." She purred. "Let his darkness be his downfall, so that greater evils can prevail." The seer's brow furrowed. "But great Mistress, Tarrial is not actually.." His words faded as she swept from the room, uninterested in what she perceived to be unimportant. He sat there a moment longer, looking at his folded hands, before whispering "Not all darkness is evil."

He slowly followed the Dark Mother's path into the room, his mind spinning with memories of the past and visions of the future. She greets him, soaking languidly in a bath, asking amusedly "What do you see, my wide eyed friend?" His eyes flickered as he traveled the parts of the future he could see.

He saw the demon and the child, almost a man now, standing silent over a grave. He saw a flash of blinding light, and more people than he could count rejoicing. He saw a young man laying his hands on a figure laying on the ground, killing himself trying to bring them back, and felt the respect and love of the men who stopped his death. He saw a moment that could be the end or the beginning, two people looking at each other with love and hate in their eyes.

"I see a great victory." He replied, crawling into the bath with her. "I see everything changing, and the true world falling into confusion. Nothing will be the same again." She smiled, caught up in his descriptions, as she pictured the world burning and the end of all things.

On the true world, her dreams seemed closer to reality, as a struggling young woman was dragged into the center of the clearing, a young man slung over the shoulders of another of the creatures. They were dropped in front of the thing who remained near the holy spot, the woman being held by the creatures as she fought frantically to get to the man that laid there limp and unaware. He leaned down, smelling them both, before snorting disgustedly. "The female, she is acceptable, she will feed the dark mother, but the man must die."

As she watched, one of the destroyers reached down and casually ripped out the throat of the man that lay there unawares, and watched callously as he choked on his own blood without ever waking up. As she cried and fought, he bled to death. Something died in her eyes at that moment, something that was needed and yet something that so many people lived without. In that moment, she decided to do whatever it took, whatever she could do, to take down these animals. She was not worried about dying, not worried about escaping, not worried about anything but the death of the one creature who had ripped out the throat of the man that had been her intended.

As she was dragged into the tent that she would be kept in until the entire group was assembled, until there were enough pure souls to bring the dark mother through to the true world, her eyes never once left the body of the man that she had vowed to marry for honor and for her people. In her own tongue, she whispered "I shall avenge you. I could not have loved you as you wished, but I did respect you. Your blood will be avenged, and I will find a way to tell your family of what has occurred here today. I swear it by the heavens and hells of all worlds."

In the darkness of the tent, where the stink of the creatures was contained and amplified, she sat, her eyes blazing with anger and with grief. Slowly, so slowly, both emotions faded as she sat herself cross-legged, forcing the emotions and the irrelevant thoughts out of her mind. Her eyes became calm, and then an almost happy light lay in the depths of her brilliant green eyes. Her hands rose up and clasped under her beasts, and she began chanting, in the language of her people, a flowing, musical tone that combined with her low alto voice made her sound like she was singing. As she chanted, a pale blue light slowly formed around her, a barely noticeable sheathe that made her look otherworldly, almost angelic. It was not her beauty that made her look angelic, for in truth she was pretty enough, but certainly nothing eye catching.

Her eyes, while a beautiful green, were set just a bit too far apart for most, and she had a button nose. Her lips were a bit too full, and her skin dotted with small scars and freckles. Her long brown hair cascaded over her back in a riot of uncontrolled curls, and her figure was almost boyish. Still, something about her in that moment was beautiful, even if it was not in her face or form. Perhaps it had something to do with the look of contentment and joy she wore, or with the single tear escaping the corner of her eye. With a last, long string of that musical language, the blue light disappeared, but the smile on her face did not. She know knew what to do, and how to do it. The Goddess of the Cu'Moin truly was a merciful and gentle goddess. Her mind danced with bloody dreams of vengance, and freedom, dreams so far removed from the innocent, childlike dreams happening so far away.

Elsewhere, in the dark, forgotten sections of the castle that Sujon had grown up in, the boys rounded another corner, seeking things long forgotten and dreaming of the glory they could one day achieve. "Look Sujon!" Kalit exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the long dead remains of a man, still holding a shield and wearing ornate leather armor, the shattered remains of a pike next to him. "I bet a long time ago, they used these tunnels to escape far far away when the castle was attacked by hordes and hordes of monsters, and he stood here and guarded the rest of the people while they ran as fast as they could. He was brave and unafraid, even when the tunnel started to fill with goblins and giants and harpies, even when he saw trolls and great, oozing things coming at him.

He stood here, and he told them that he may die today, but that he would live long enough for the rest to get away, and then he started to fight! See, here is his sword, I bet one of the huge giants broke it like it was a toy! And there is his pike….they had a creature made all of stone, and when he tried to stab it, it broke his pike! But he still fought, without any weapons at all, he fought and fought even when he was dying, and as he fought the others got further and further away, until he died smiling because he had saved them all!"

Kalit's eyes were shining, caught up in his own tale of heroism and tragedy, and Sujon too seemed moved by Kalit's version of the events. They stood there, feeling humbled by being in the presence of someone so brave and noble, and then, Sujon had an idea. "let's mark this place so everyone will know how brave he was!" Sujon exclaimed, picking up a piece of the broken sword. He scratched into the dirt Here lies a hero, who died saving hundreds. He went to draw an arrow pointing to the body, but the fragment of the sword slipped, and bit deeply into his palm. He dropped the sword with an exclamation of pain, half cry half mild curse.

As he examined the cut, blood welled up and ran over his hand, dripping onto the ornate, undamaged armor of the skeleton. Kalit looked at Sujon with concern, but Sujon, after blinking away a couple of tears at the unexpected pain, simply laughed. "There!" He exclaimed, "Now everyone knows he is a hero, and he has been blessed with blood! Now we know his spirit can rest peacefully!" Kalit's eyes lit up, and he grabbed the bloody shard, slicing his hand as well. He dripped his own blood on the skeleton's armor with Sujon's, explaining as he did "The priests always use lots of blood, so I thought we should both use our blood and maybe that will be even better than just yours." Sujon nodded as they stood over the man in the armor, blessing the skeleton with their blood as they talked excitedly over what other great things he must have done in life, with the tales getting grander and more elaborate with each telling.

By the time they had stopped bleeding, they were convinced that this man had saved at least a dozen villages, been knighted and been a champion, and was undefeated in every tournament. He was the man that had slain the great dragon Hoteb, and also the man that once stood over an old king a thousand years ago, stood over the king and fought, swords spraying blood, as he battled almost alone against the army of the tundra dwellers. They happily weaved him through their favorite childhood tales, never bothered with the fact that the events were often hundreds of years apart. It was then that they both decided they would be great heroes too, and would do deeds to make even this brave warrior proud.

Kalit decided he would be a hero from the shadows, a legendary sneak thief who only stole when he had to, who tipped the scales by being a perfect spy. It was a task he was well suited for, because despite his tall, lanky form, he could creep past even the most alert guards, and pick almost any lock. Sujon on the other hand decided he would be a master of the fighting arts, both armed and unarmed. "I'll be even better than Tarrial!" He exclaimed, seeing himself in that moment as a fully grown man, with huge shoulders as wide across as his father's wagons, standing as tall as a troll, smashing his way through hundreds of men like they were just children. Grand dreams indeed for a boy who looked about two years younger than he was, with a lean, whipcord build. But then, childhood is the time for dreams, and there will be time enough later for losing those dreams. Or at least, there will be, if the two men's plans turn out the way they hope.

Delin's eyes were dark with worry as he looked at Tarrial. "I hate using you this way my old friend." Delin said, a note of simple honesty and regret in his voice. "You do not use me Duke. I was the one who first conceived of and spoke of this plan." Tarrial said flatly, his desire to beg off of this mission showing no-where in his voice or expression. There is no other way he reminded himself, his hand unobtrusively closing into a fist. No other way. "I trust you shall arrange for another to take my place in the training while I am gone?" Delin sighed, but let the matter drop. "There is no-one who can take your place Tarrial, in any way. You are indispensable to ma, and you know this. However, I have arranged for a sword master for Sujon, yes. The other lessons…." He shrugged his shoulders, looking old. "No-one may take over those lessons, just as none have the wisdom of your years to offer me, and none have the ability to go and do this thing, and none have the respect to lead the men into war with their hearts full of confidence…." He trailed off again, and then shook his head once, sharply.

"Never mind an old man and my rambling ways. It is just that I have a bad feeling about this, a feeling of cold dread that seems to be in my bones itself." Tarrial's expression did not change once during the whole time Delin was talking, although his emotions did. He had felt a twinge of guilt that he was failing in his duties to teach Sujon, and a very real disappointment at realizing that in the ways humans counted time, Delin was indeed getting old, and would soon pass away. Most of all though, he felt an intensifying of the small, nagging fear that had settled itself in his stomach. It had been long indeed since he had feared anything, because when death has no fear, fear itself loses much of it's power. This however…if it was not done perfectly, death would not be what he had to fear, but life.

His jagged ball of fear relaxed, and then vanished completely, when he realized he could take steps against that. There were things that were deadly even to demons, who were unusually resistant to poison. With a swift death as his reward if he should fail, and the freedom of his fellow demons being one step closer if he should succeed, he found himself content. Either would be a welcome reward. After all, he had a debt of honor to fill by releasing his fellow demons, but if he died attempting to fill that debt, then there was no shame in his failing. He was ready. He spent but a moment saying his farewells to Delin, going so far as to tell the man that he would prefer to see him alive when he returned, then walking out the door to Delin's surprised and amused chuckle. Tarrial turned out the noise, focused instead on his mission. Find the hostages that were being gathered for the dark mother, and then kill them.

Also, along the way, kill every truly pure soul he could find. He knew that Delin would never have agreed to that, so he simply did not tell Delin what kinds of people were needed to bring the Dark Mother through. After all, if Delin chose to believe they were twisted and evil, so much the better for him Tarrial thought grimly as he slipped out into the gardens, pausing only long enough to grab a dark haired, dark eyed toddler that was sitting outside in the sun, playing with a bright red ball, and snapping her neck. Kill the pure ones, and it is over until a new crop can be born. Dropping the lifeless body he looked down with flat eyes before continuing to the garden. As he carefully picked the leaves he'd need, a mother's screams began to echo through the courtyard. He felt bad for her, but there was no choice. The baby might have threatened the safety of those he did care about.