Zenith [Closed] [Chapter XX]

[Tajna Rasha]

The phantom’s eyes suddenly became softer, as though the question had ignited a memory within the skeletal shell that lurked over her. As always, the tribal veil masked any attempts to read the ghost’s near-alien traits, though it was clear its mannerism had instantly reverted back to their usually impassable demeanour. It came closer until their feet practically touched and knelt down to level their gaze with one-another.

‘‘Do you know what is the cruel fate of those who become the End, Amoura Ethelia?’’ It asked at length, the question immediately searing her mind with terrible revelation. ‘‘They are forever bound in a persisting and irreversible existence in the new world made by the Creator, while having no place in it. Their essence is scattered - unable to be fully whole after experiencing the endless void of being an Arashi. Time and space are benign constructs that contain life. To the one who wore the mask, it is a maddening curse - an inescapable cycle of torment and inextricable anguish.’’The ghost rose back once again to its full height, before turning to the accursed object that rested on the pedestal of human remains. It took it in hand, tracing sharp talons across its surface in a nigh-ceremonious fashion as though it recalled the traits that had once fashioned its own face. There was a long moment that passed, where Tajna Rasha brought down the scarf around its neck to observe the broken carcass in the reflection of the equally decrepit countenance it held in a single claw. The memories proved to be as decayed as the monster that stared back into its eyes. It rested the Shroud upon the pedestal once more. ‘‘Eventually, one End brings about another - and it continues. Endlessly.’’

The words were spoken absently, as though they echoed a concept as simple as rising dawn and setting dusk, without so much as allowing Amoura a single look.

‘‘What difference will it make if you choose to deny the mask, when our patience is eternal? The thing you call life was never your own... how many eons can you bear to linger here until another comes to seize your place?’’ It said at length, returning its attention to her.

Slowly, another manifestation of the ghost appeared beyond the shadows of the ossuary. Opalescent eyes illuminated the darkness, casting an eerie glow over the now draped form of the member of the Council of Legion, as when she had met him for the first time, so many years ago back in her own world. The frame of bones shimmered dimly under the eyes of Tajna Rasha, whom continued to make its approach. ‘‘Did you really think Mundus could have created a demon with powers far surpassing his own? Even by accident?’’ It paused, the thick silence between them broken only by the sound of its steps. A faint mystic vapour emanated from the silhouette before another carcass spawned as though from the very remains of the cathedral. ‘‘Don't be so simple.’’ They spoke at length in a deafening chorus. The robed one continued, a hand drawn to its side with an azure pyre burning at the bottom of its palm. ‘‘The manipulation of time is a gift not even bestowed upon the Arashi. The one you know as a lieutenant to Mundus was a ruse; a merely parlour trick to allow us to inspect our plans from a closer vantage point.’’ The phantom let it burn for a moment before extinguishing the flame with a sharp fist. Violet embers fell over the pedestal, casting a swirling, mystical mist around the mask.

‘‘The Shroud cannot be worn by all manners of creatures; its power is such as all but a few would be consumed by the divine essence it holds. It requires an incorruptible vessel – one closest to that of its maker in order to carry it to purpose.’’ A faint breeze blew the cinders over Amoura’s figure before being vanishing into nothingness. ‘‘You are the daughter of one who was once the right hand of Yahweh – an angel – and the direct descendant of a god.’’ The robes of the wraith followed, spreading like wings of shadows and smoke with its eyes intently upon her. The resemblance between Tajna Rasha and Veran had never seemed so striking. ‘‘You presented opportunity, and so we shaped the events of your upbringing as we saw fit: Your petty rebellion against your father, your life amongst the humans, the friends you found, those you lost... Every breath you took, sights you have ever beheld and emotions you have ever felt were because we decided to allow them of our own accord. You were an instrument to be moulded in our image, a divine beast forged from tragedy and vengeance against the Arashi.’’

The ghost turned on heels and returned its attention to the outside, where the serene sky had now turned crimson in the wake of the chase. Even now the smell of sulphur filtered through the air like an opaque fog.

‘‘Tajna Rasha was, many years ago, the third and final Arashi of his world. He tore it asunder and became destruction incarnate until only he remained.’’ Still the voice resonated in the decadent monument of the End, its tone sombre and foreboding. ‘‘And the world was made anew, yet he remained. He moved beyond the reach of gods and they could do nothing but watch in horror as their world became his domain, and their creations his preys.’’

Silence had become an entirely different sort of monster.

‘‘And all this time you believed the Shroud would allow you to destroy the shackles of fate...’’

The temple shook with the distant clash of Amoura’s tormentors.

‘‘We are fate.’’

[Silver Eyes]

Amoura turned from Tajna when his explanations almost became too much. Her shaking hands planted themselves on the pedestal that held the face of an Arashi: the Shroud. There was so much racing through her head; what could she possibly say? Tajna was the Third Arashi. He shaped her whole life, every single event, which led to this crucial moment. He was the puppet master, and her, the puppet unaware of its strings. Amoura felt her stomach churning.

‘‘And all this time you believed the Shroud would allow you to destroy the shackles of fate...’'

"No, I never believed that. I believed it would save everyone."

‘‘We are fate.’’

A frustrated scream ended the explanations. Amoura threw the pedestal in a fit of anger and it smashed into pieces against the marble floor. As for the Shroud, it remained aloft--it refused to budge from where it had been all these years. She could care less if she appeared to be an immature child throwing a tantrum because she had every right to be angry. This monster had manipulated her entire life. He took everything, gave it back, and then took it all away again all for the sake of The End making a grand appearance.

Enough of her anger was out of her system to engage in conversation, so with a slow sigh, she slicked back her hair and turned to face her puppet master.

"So, if you are the Third Arashi, why bring about The End? If that is truly her title, I believe what she will do is not something the rest of this universe would want. I fail to see as to how this would benefit you." Amoura kicked aside a piece of the rubble and walked closer to him, "So why hide being the Third Arashi? What was your role in all of this?"

[Tajna Rasha]

‘‘Arashi is a title fit for those who are ordained with divine purpose.’’ It answered evenly with its gaze still fixed on the outside of the temple. ‘‘Something we no longer share.’’ It added after a brief pause, before finally returning, arms crossed against its chest, to Amoura. ‘‘Remember that their purpose is the preservation of balance amongst the realms – why do you believe they have haunted you for all these years?’’ It asked with such callousness as though the rhetoric should have all but been obvious to her. ‘‘Why Aper sought the destruction of the Downward Spiral?’’ It continued, pressing her on more aggressively. ‘‘Why Veran now seeks your death?’’ It finally said, with eyes burning deep beneath the black cowl.

Tajna Rasha’s arms fell at each of its sides as it began a slow pace from the shadow of the gate. The robe fluttered and wiped with each step, and the very air around the phantom appeared as though it was in a state of complete ebullition. The wraith appeared hypnotic in its approach, as though its true distance from her could not be measured. Even the bones beneath its feet sizzled with each step, and before long they stood face to face. Tajna’s presence was suffocating.

‘‘Remember the words as you have always remembered them and understand them now with clarity.’’ It spoke in an echo she could barely distinguish from the commotion outside. The shadows grew around them as though they threatened to devour them both. ‘‘The gate is prepared, refers to the Downward Spiral: It appears upon the end of days to serve as a doorway into all realms in existence but that is not its true function –.’’ It paused, its gaze intently upon her. ‘‘It is a beacon from which the final Arashi will annihilate all of reality and bring about the end.’’ Tajna’s words burned like white hot flames branding themselves in her mind. ‘‘That is why Aper marched towards it in an attempt to destroy it, to prevent you – the End – from fulfilling your mission.’’ It finally explained after she had visibly processed what she had just been told.

Suddenly, the apparition’s voice took on prophetic airs she all but recognized too well…

‘‘The evil that was once vanquished shall rise anew. Wrapped in the guise of man shall He walk amongst the innocent, and Terror shall consume they that dwell upon the Earth.’’ The surroundings pulsed; following the rhythm of Amoura’s pounding heart. ‘‘This passage is a warning about the End. Understand that Arashi do no perceive evil as you do; it merely referred as to how unlike the others who were born of providence, the End is born from mortal action. You were the Harbinger, a wolf disguised among sheep. Unlike the Will, unlike the First, it chooses its fate and abides by it until nothing remains but the Creator’s light.’’ The throbbing intensified as Tajna continued, the prophecy replaying before her very eyes as Utopia was desecrated by the damned. ‘‘The skies shall rain fire, and the seas will become as blood. The righteous shall fall before the wicked, and all of Creation shall tremble before the burning standards of Hell. It is the harbinger of Its return and It shall send forth it’s terror into all the realms.’’ The pain was becoming palpable around the ghost, but Tajna refused to release its hold on her. He hung her at every word. ‘‘This is a sign, an annunciation of the last events to occur on Genesis before your ascension. It interprets the last stand of the demon realms against the earth, events that are happening – unbeknownst to you – as we speak.’’ It paused, etching only that much closer to her until all she could truly see was the ethereal light of its eyes. ‘‘You believed the hell mentioned to be a product of what you’ve all come to call the Waking Nightmare – while in fact it simply gave definition to the destruction that would precede the one who would wear the Shroud.’’

And just like that the robed figure of the member of the Council of Legion had disappeared, though not the inextricably debilitating miasma that it had stirred.

‘‘Those were the words Veran confided in you.’’ The voice crept back inside her mind just as easily as one of its claws could have ripped at her soul. She saw the edges of the black cape float at her side – Tajna stood behind her as an angel of death – a cruel patron to her existence. It danced around her like the black shapeless tendrils of her assailants – no – the divine guardians that had all along done nothing but try to veer her away from the cruel tyranny and machinations of Tajna Rasha.

‘‘Then Aper would trust you with further revelation.’’ It added, before once again repeating the verses rehearsed from her own nightmares. A cold sweat ran down her spine as the light in the eyes of the wraith shone like those of the second Arashi just as when he had cut down the holy city of Aircano without hesitation. ‘‘The war amongst the celestial kingdom shall not be contained; the sons of man shall be engulfed in the flood of conflict, and all hope shall be lost unto them. Fate shall make war upon the heavens, and the heavens shall gird themselves as for battle. The righteous shall fall upon the wicked... and lay siege to the very gates of the house of the Creator. It shall take peace from mankind and loose great destruction upon the world.’’ It spoke in the same mind-numbing fashion. The darkness continued to move around her as though it had a mind of its own as Tajna Rasha watched over like a hawk. ‘‘Its meaning should be as clear as day to you now.’’ It spoke softly, before leaving her side to join the Shroud. The robes caught ablaze, dancing behind the spectre as great wings of mystical flames. It turned on its heels, the inferno swirling around its axis like a beast around its master. Once again Tajna spoke with resolute fervour. ‘‘We are fate, we were once Arashi. We single-handedly waged a war against our former brethren and all of mankind was caught in our wake. We masterminded the advent of the Arashi on this plane as well as their subsequent failures. We understood the workings of their prophecy – their dogma – and used it to our advantage. We knew Veran would manifest if we were ever to appear in this world. So we set the imbalance in motion to further our plans, and played a very long game of cat and mouse as the Arashi would seek to impede our efforts to resurrecting the End whilst we simply manoeuvred them ever closer to realizing it – closer to you.’’ Tajna spoke with the same intensity as that of the supernatural pyre that surrounded him. ‘‘At last the storm surges forth from the holy lands, and the hand of destruction reaches out to undo the workings of the creator. The tides of judgment surge – ready to smash down upon the shores of the mortal world – to drown the guilty and the innocent alike.’’ It only grew as the words themselves seared the senses. ‘‘But you lived on: Lived long enough to hear the sounds of guns. Long enough to find yourself screaming at every night. Long enough to see your friends betray you. For years we’ve been strapped upon this altar. Now the tide will catch us first, and give us the death we always longed for.’’

The great fire came to a smouldering halt. The smokes and ambers fell deafly about, veiling the wraith beneath shadows and darkness.

Still its eyes could be seen beyond the fog and it spoke again, decidedly back to its usual and impassable self. ‘‘The Arashi shall mete out his vengeance upon all flesh, and blood shall run as great torrents.’’ Still the fire burned in her thoughts. ‘‘Of course the three never found a name other than Arashi to describe even one who fell from their ranks.’’

There was a long pause before the smoke would remove itself from Amoura’s eyes, and come to float only at ground-level. Still when it did, all traces of Tajna Rasha had vanished. Once again she could only observe as Veran’s chase cast blood-red shades across the innumerable remains she soon understood to be not of humans, but angels – the chosen ones that came before – just as she was now the chosen and would soon join them in their ranks. Her eyes stopped upon one particular skull which she imagined had once belonged to none other than the abomination that had sealed her doom. As though it had read her very thoughts, the ghost resumed .

‘‘One particular passage would elude you all. Little did you know it was the most pertinent.’’ It said, before proceeding with prophecy. ‘‘Deus Mortis. Spiritus illius producit Mortem. Deus Exitii. Tenebrae illius devorant omnia. In palma Creatoris proelium aeternum prodit. Progenies Belli… Corpus incensum tuum fluctuat in mari inanitatis. Creare rem Ultimam. Deletrix Omnium. Scitote finem Vestrum fieri in prece sola mortuorum.’’ A faint ripple could be seen stirring within the Shroud at the ancient words. Before long each of the skulls in the room began to share a faint luminescence. Hollow eyes were filled with diamond-like pyres, silently baring witness to the voiceless inauguration of the harbinger. They sung a soundless choir. And they stared at her. All within the deafening hush of their laments. ‘‘God of Death. Spirit that brings Death. God of Ruin. Darkness that devours all. In the Creator's palm eternal strife springs up. To create the final thing… your fiery body surges in the sea of emptiness.’’

And in a moment there it was; the skeletal tattered and angelic carcass that was Tajna Rasha in all of its glory. It stood a testament to all those who had been subjected to the torture of becoming the End among the cadaverous relics of the temple. It stood next to the Shroud; the instrument of what had been an endless cycle of death. One fated to continue this very day.

‘‘He tried to warn you, Amoura. He would never quite come to realize your true purpose like Veran, but he knew the person who would come to wear the Shroud was at Aircano that day. So he laid unto you the darkest secrets bestowed upon the Arashi – the very nature and means by which the End comes into being.’’ It paused, the light in every skull falling prey once again to the darkness before the phantom resumed. ‘‘A wanderer will pass through the ancient lands, trailing chaos in his wake. The realms will be reunited and the mortal world will tremble before them. The beast shall be upon the earth, and it shall be diverse from all kingdoms, and it shall devour the whole earth, tread it down, and break it in pieces.’’ Tajna Rasha’s gaze upon her was unforgiving. ‘‘He warned you, and you destroyed him.’’ Unrelenting. ‘‘You all missed the signs. Refused to listen. Now you are at this final prophesied threshold –’’

And she dreaded that moment where finally every piece of the puzzle fell into place at last with that final and irrevocable declaration.

‘‘A sacrifice of blood is what it demands for the cleansing of the world.’’

[Silver Eyes]

‘‘Remember that their purpose is the preservation of balance amongst the realms – why do you believe they have haunted you for all these years?’’ It was starting to come together: the visions, the attempts to drive her into a permanent state of madness, the desire to destroy her--it was to prevent The End. Tajna must have had a hand in preventing the other Arashi from bringing a swift, or slow, demise. ‘‘Remember the words as you have always remembered them and understand them now with clarity.’' Amoura took in a deep breath and looked into the puppet's eyes while he recited the prophecy she had memorized by heart. The gate, the Spiral, was easy enough to recognize what had been set in stone, but she didn't expect everything else. How wrong had she been all these decades...

Amoura closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, bowed her head and listened to Tajna Rasha's words. You fool, she thought, you stubborn, pathetic fool; how could you not see this coming? Why didn't you figure this out? Why did you have to feel sorry for yourself? You could have prevented this encounter. You could have done something!

‘‘But you lived on: Lived long enough to hear the sounds of guns. Long enough to find yourself screaming at every night. Long enough to see your friends betray you. For years we’ve been strapped upon this altar. Now the tide will catch us first, and give us the death we always longed for.’’ Amoura's lips slowly peeled back. Memories she kept buried resurfaced: the sound of gunfire, the overpowering smell of blood, the cold look in Ranka's eyes as he blatantly betrayed her, the touch of a hand when she woke up screaming from the nightmares, and the cold emptiness that had taken hold of her. But, she stubbornly lived on, and look at where it got her: to the end of the line. The pulsating miasma was almost enough to bring the Daughter of Mundus to her knees, but if this was going to be her final stand, she refused to let this weaken her.

‘‘You all missed the signs. Refused to listen. Now you are at this final prophesied threshold –’’ Amoura, at last, opened her eyes, '‘A sacrifice of blood is what it demands for the cleansing of the world.’’

"You're wrong," she growled, "some of my friends betrayed me, but not all. You watched everything in my life, did you not? Don't make statements that aren't correct." The Night Angel turned her head to stare at the Shroud suspended in the air, "And this 'sacrifice of blood' is not willing. I will not put on the Shroud, I will not give you that death you long for." Her heels clopped against the cracked marble floor during her approach towards Tajna, "You are going to let me out of this place because that Shroud is never going to be touched by me again. I will not fulfill this prophecy you drove me to." Amoura pointed at the door to emphasize her demand. "You've used me long enough. Open it! NOW!"

[Tajna Rasha]

The ghost held Amoura’s gaze, remaining perfectly still in spite of her approach and outburst. A moment passed while Tajna observed her questioningly as though wondering what she possibly hoped to accomplish through that request.

‘‘This petty defiance will change nothing.’’ It responded. ‘‘You know Veran lingers beyond this gate and make no mistake; this time there will be no escaping the nightmare – he will consume and erase every trace of your existence.’’ It added evenly, a fact that was certainly not lost upon Amoura so shortly after having experienced her own demise at the hands of the Arashi. ‘‘Arguing the semantics of our statement does not make it any less true; you are and were always ours. We have watched as a shattered and broken woman stood against the beast. We watched as she was raped again, again and again on accord of our whims.’’ The words were so cold the heated discharge that had nearly swept the Night Angel off her feet seemed a distant and forgotten thing. ‘‘Whether you decide to fulfill the prophecy or not is irrelevant; today we will watch you die, Amoura.’’

Tajna Rasha advanced on her, getting dangerously close. She had not forgotten its hand on her throat either.

‘‘If you will not wear the Shroud then we will simply go back in time and find another.’’ And there it was; the last insult to her efforts. No matter what she did, she would not be able to stop Tajna. To stop the Ghost of Legion, she would have to do precisely what it wished of her, and she would never allow it to win – never allow herself to be committed to that final desecration, that ultimate violation of her entire being. If she were to lose, at least she would get the last laugh. The reasoning was not escaped upon the wraith, and there was an answer to that as well.

‘‘Perhaps your sister.’’

[Silver Eyes]

‘‘Perhaps your sister.’’

A skull lodged itself free from the ceiling and shattered against the floor into dusty pieces. The bone fragments skittered across the floor, came to a stop, rattled, and grew still. Another fell from the chandelier above them, then another from the farthest reach of the room. Like a fresh rain, the descending of the human remains started off slow and began to pick up pace. That's when the entire room began to quake. Cracks spidered along the marble's smooth surface.

The source of this destruction was none other than Amoura.

Her aura had easily overpowered the Ghosts' miasma, even going as far as to drown it out. White, wisped tendrils charged from what remained of her cloak and wrapped around the Ghost. A searing hot hand encircled around his neck, his body glowed, and it dissipated into ash faster than he could ramble about how he saw this coming.

"That was the biggest and last mistake you've ever made, Tajna Rasha."

Amoura stepped towards the ash pile. Her aura became a visible, blinding light that temporarily drowned out the room that held the shroud. When it dimmed, The Night Angel had transformed into a familiar form:



"The End won't be the one to kill you, Ghost. I WILL!"

[Tajna Rasha]

A resonant chuckle erupted through the temple as the remains of the phantom were swept by Amoura’s fierce power. Of course such a feat wouldn’t be enough to put the wraith to rest, and as though to echo those thoughts, it reappeared farther down the decrepit corridor in all of its cadaverous glory – a stark contrast to her newfound angelic splendour. Still Tajna did not wield its spectral weapon nor did it gird itself for battle; it merely continued to laugh. It laughed as the realization surely came to Amoura; that the light she had followed to the temple had never been from the Shroud, but rather from herself in this form as she shed the last barriers of her power. Even now, a scared Amoura running from Veran was headed towards them. Even in defiance, she had played flawlessly into the ghost’s hand.

‘‘After all these years it’s finally come to this.’’ Said Tajna Rasha as it regained its composure, taking in Amoura’s divine figure. There were no more shadows amidst the ossuary – everything basked in the light of the daughter of the former prince of darkness – and yet Tajna had never seemed so terrifying to look upon: The scarf around its face wiped about violently in the scorching wind dancing around the edges of the jawless maw beneath the cloth, and the light in its eyes burned with deep flames rivalling the astral essence of the Night Angel.

‘‘We have brought truth, and you condemn it? The arrogance!’’ It spat, stepping closer to the radiant seraph. ‘‘But you will not harm us. You will never harm us.’’ It continued, ceremoniously stretching an arm to its side. ‘‘Hate us.’’ It whispered callously as the blazing spiritual torrent of the spectral blade came to life. ‘‘Fight us.’’ It beckoned as a claw reached for the ground below, holding it in place against the ravaging power of Amoura, the torn wings at its back casting a shapeless darkness in the sanctuary of the Arashi. ‘‘Revel in this moment – show us the extent of your power – make every world tremble before the might of the Night Angel and annihilate us in every way you know you can.’’

It held her gaze, brandishing the ethereal symbiotic weapon against her unbridled wrath, still unmoved by the means to which it had pushed her to the edge of her sanity.

‘‘Entertain these last vestiges of hope so that when we strip them away from you this one last time – when everything in your power has failed – you will fall from the highest precipice and finally come to understand true despair.’’

[Silver Eyes]

"Oh, shut up."

Tajna again burst into a flaming pile of ash. He'll appear elsewhere any moment now, and she patiently waited. "If there's one thing you learned about me, Ghost, is that I don't give up easy." The Night Angel's wings gracefully flowed behind her while she stepped around The Shroud. Her destiny, forged by his hand, stated she'd put on the Shroud willingly. How would she even take such a step? How drastic would things have to be?

"Father once said I'd be the key to an end. Funny how that became a truth. It's as if he somehow knew." Her shrouded eyes continued to seek out the next apparition, "I had forgotten many things, Tajna. I forced myself to forget, but it's all beginning to come back to me now." Amoura's wings expanded and the tendrils softly brushed against the skeletal remains that lined the walls. Everything they touched collapsed into a soft dust and poured to the floor in uneven piles.

"You want to show me true despair? Then come. Show me! Show me!"

[Tajna Rasha]

A jabbing pain erupted in Amoura’s back like a jolt of electricity. It felt like nothing she had ever experienced – the ghost’s talons moving inside her flesh as though she was made of mud. It prodded at her organs – cut her flesh – disjointed her bones and burned through her until they found hold of what they desired… and pulled.

A foot pressed up against her, Tajna Rasha’s strength was crushing. It pushed and held on to her. The tendons immediately began to give way as flesh was torn and severed from her body. Blood oozed out freely. A sickening snap was heard when the limbs finally separated themselves, and Amoura kicked down to the ground.

Behind her Tajna looked upon the woman with eyes as cold and ruthless as the lowest pits of hell. The light within the room slowly began to fade, and it advanced on her, holding in each hand the bloodied remains of what had once been the wings of an angel.

[Silver Eyes]

It was like reliving a nightmare--a nightmare that became a reality. Amoura screamed as her wings were torn free from her flesh, leaving nothing but a gaping, bloody hole as a reminder of what was once a visual of her angelic form. But her screams took on another form that would surprise anyone else: laughter. It started off weak due to the indescribable pain that rattled her body, but her strength gathered. She laughed. She laughed at his first attempt (oh, she knew there would be many) to break her, at the torture that he began; but wasn't he the one that subjected her to all tortures throughout the decades?

"Is that...all you've got?!" Amoura forced herself to her feet. A glow pulsated from her wound, the flesh grew back, and the soft streams that formed her wings flowed from the repaired surface, "Come on, Tajna. You said you wanted to break me!" Her wings wrapped around this apparition and annihilated it. "COME ON! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT!"

[Tajna Rasha]

No words came from the member of the Council of Legion. Its body allowed itself to be destroyed without any resistance, blue flames encircling the murderess, only for another to appear in its place – repeating the same twisted spectacle as before. The sheer physical agony was enough to steal another scream from the woman, and yet she still laughed, still refused to relent. And neither would the phantom.

Again she was kicked, but this time a claw waited for her, stabbing at her chest. The mystical residue around the digits melted through her armour easily, whilst they lodged themselves effortlessly within her. They grasped at her thorax, edging her closer while a fist hammered into her face. An audible crack was heard beneath the veil – something had dislocated – and blood covered the ghost’s hand. But it would not stop. It struck her again. Teeth gashed out. Again. Blood flowed freely from the cloak. Again. The grip inside her chest intensified. Again. Her ribs were threatening to give out. Again. They cracked too. Again. Again. And again. Until she stopped moving.

Yet still, she was laughing.

Tajna Rasha’s hand dropped gradually onto Amoura’s shoulder while it coldly gazed upon her. All of that, she couldn’t even draw breath, and she still made the effort to laugh. Still made that struggle to defy him in any way she could. In her maddened state nothing would stop her but death, and that was something the ghost understood better than anyone. They were both pawns of a cruel game where victory could be achieved through their release from it.

Holding on to her, the wraith began to push. There were no laughs anymore; only the demented sound of bones trying to hopelessly cling to their position. A nauseating suction resonated throughout the ossuary before torrents of Amoura’s life flowed upon its white surface, followed by the thud of a bloodied and shattered ribcage as it struck the floor.

For the second time, Amoura felt this stomach-churning feeling that she was torn from her body, seeing the scene happen as though she was viewing it through someone else’s eyes. That is until she realized they were her own, and that Tajna was forcing her to watch as a lifeless image of herself fell, desecrated by that ghoul.

‘‘It is such a quiet thing to fall, but even far more terrible is to admit it.’’ It spoke as it viewed the result of its work in quiet contemplation.

[Silver Eyes]

All that greeted Tajna's ears was the swelling of blood from ripped veins. The mangled corpse twitched in its death throes, opened its mouth in a feeble attempt to breathe, then grew still. Its eyes glassed over...then the head snapped up to glare at Tajna. Even without the basic skeletal structure necessary to maintain balance, it stood, and was instantly repairing itself. A burning light shined behind Tajna and a hand shot through his body--a spectral-looking hand. It was surrounded by white flames, and they began to scorch this timeline's Tajna.

"Really? That's how you're going to show me despair? You're just boring me."

The body fell apart, and The Night Angel rejoined with her repaired form. "I've endured Veran's torments, I was betrayed, left for dead--everything you just said earlier. Do you really think everything you've done so far would even make me budge towards that shroud?!"

Amoura drew her sword from its sheathe, took in a deep breath, and slammed it into the ground. The ground shook, the sheathe glowed, and the same fires that Amoura used to decimate Tajna consumed the room. In a fit of rage, her wings began to tear the area apart. Most of the remains were now ash, or simply annihilated. She wanted to get out of here, but most of all, she wanted to make this bastard suffer for all that she had to endure.

They had eternity. If that's what it will end up taking to exact her revenge, then so be it.

[Veran]

There was a shocked, terrified gasp that echoed out behind Amoura after the destruction of the temple. Not from anyone standing in the room, but it belonged to a voice she knew all but too well. It was her own. She began to turn around to meet her own silver gaze but there was a hollow tremor, like a singular and deafening pitch in her ears before she could even see the armoured figure that others saw when they looked at her. She heard a crackling noise like the flames of a pyre, then the distinct sound of blood steaming out of someone’s body like a repugnant geyser. And then nothing. The ruins of the temple were as silent as a crypt.

She turned around and met the accursed face of the First Aspect, surrounded by the remains of her own charred carcass. Even then embers of the white-hot flames smouldered on the ashen image of the corpse: Veran had never taken her life – no – she had done it all on her own.

The black abyss behind the mask took in her new form. Even in spite of the scope of her power, their awareness was crushing. There were no screams anymore; only the slow cadence of the Arashi’s footsteps marching towards her.

[Tajna Rasha]

And then he stopped.

[Silver Eyes]

"Stop fucking around with me!"

Amoura turned just as the First Aspect began its approach. Her charred bones crunched under his shadowed feet, her ashes circled about his form as he drew closer...and around hers. The Night Angel snatched up her sword from where she impaled it, swiped it in front of her, and ran at him. Amoura let out a cry, thrusted her sword...

And he froze.

Amoura's eyes widened in surprise, she lost her balance, and fell forward. Her sword skittered across the floor, spun, slammed against the wall, rattled, and became still as the light winked out.

Time had froze. Tajna had ceased movement of all say one: herself. Amoura hastily got to her feet, pushed back her hood, and stared in shock. There he was, her second greatest tormentor, paused mid-approach, staring her down in this moment. A chill raced up her spine at this. If Tajna could actually stop this being...

Amoura felt a cold sweat bead onto her forehead, and she backed up should Tajna decide to let this resume.

Then, she turns around...