Till Death do us Part (Brandon Blackwing)

[Mirage]

After Biran slipped below the surface of the bubbling mud the furious churning of the greenish substance subsided to its 'normal' boiling, and with that the area became completely silent. Even the slight breeze had subsided, making the air stale and humid despite the chill that came from the unnatural place itself. The evening was already slipping toward its end, chimes becoming more than a bell and nothing moved. It was not until exactly one bell and three chimes had past that, at last, something changed.

From beneath Brandon's feet there came a rumbling that shook the ancient trees and made their crooked branches twitch and sway from side to side. Some of the more brittle ones snapped and fell to the ground, and in the distance an entire tree could be heard falling, crashing and making such a noise as it landed with a thud on the ground. A slight steam was coming from the mudpool now, greenish in tint as it traveled over the rim of the basin and spread outward at a creeping pace, rising as it did to make a building wall of mist that covered the area and made it difficult to see more than ten feet or so in either direction. Then, as this too settled and the mist hung in the air there was another rumbling in the earth, punctuated by what could have been a voice but it was so faint and muffled it could have gone unnoticed. It's words were in a language Brandon had never heard, more like a gurgling cough than actual words, but then somewhere in the broken half sentences there was heard what sounded suspiciously like someone saying "Well done."

There was a moment when the mist cleared just slightly, giving a view across to the other side of the bubbling vat, and there knelt a man, well dressed with black hair. His arm was sunk up to the elbow into the muck, but then he looked up as if suddenly noticing Brandon there for the first time. He did not smile, or make any gesture to the Kelvic, and from this distance it was hard to tell but it looked as though from his eyes spilled tears of blood. Just as quickly as the clearing appeared the mist came back together once more, and the man was gone, if he had been there at all.

It was several chimes after that the mist began to thin once more, but it did not dissipate. It clung to the surroundings. To the trees, the ground, to Brandon himself and stuck of rot and mold. From the center of the pool the bubbles began more fiercely once more, and then began to travel toward the edge of the pool.

The first thing that broke the surface was a hand. A hand thin as bone, skill stretched tight and cracked nails that grabbed at the dirt and ground, pulling out the rest of the thing that was attached to it. It pulled itself free of the bubbling mud, standing while clumps of the substance still grasped and clung to it's body in places, rolling slowly down in big chunky particles. He was thin, almost skeletal and there was no hint of hair on any inch of his body, from his bald head to his now beardless face. The wound in the side was completely gone, barely a scare remained, however on his abdomen the large vertical slit still remained, but the black threads holding it together were gone. Now it looked like many small hooks on either side held the flaps together, the long scar now outlined by a ring of green. Opening his lids for the first time Biran looked around at the world, where once his eyes were green now they were red as freshly spilled blood.

He coughed, clearing his throat to spit out a large gob of mud, blinking slowly as he rand his hands over his clean face and bald head. He looked absently around him, not seeming to see Brandon for the time being, or perhaps just ignoring him as he became used to his new body.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

It took longer than Brandon had expected for the hiker to resurface again. For a couple chimes he stood there, tense with his heart thumping loudly, and a feeling of choking anticipation. But nothing happened, and Brandon slowly felt the tension leave his body, though the sweat did not. Well, he could start formulating some plans, rest and eat, and make some preparations. Some more rations found their way into the bat's mouth, as did some water from a waterskin he'd found in the backpack. While replenishing his body with the nutrients and liquid it needed, the bat slowly walked over to the edge of the mud pool, having decided he might as well start digging the grave he'd bury Biran in.

For that reason, the bat clambered gingerly over one of the logs, and retrieved the pickaxe the hiker had pulled out of his side. He'd use it to loosen up the earth so he could dig more easily. After all, he had no shover or spade, and he had to dig by using his hands. If he loosened up the earth first, he'd progress a lot faster, Brandon thought. And so the bat made his way back to the edge of the clearing, and outlined a rectangular piece of ground somewhat wider than the width of his own body, and almost as long as he was tall. True, Biran was taller than him, but that hardly mattered. With some broken bones the hiker would be able to fit in there easily enough.

While digging, the bat let his mind drift, strategizing. Brandon was confident in his skill, he believed he could outclass the hiker in combat easily enough, though the problem was he had no idea in what condition the man would emerge from the pool. Would he be re-energized or not? Well, Brandon still had the element of surprise, so he had the advantage, right? Sure, he did not know what effect that mud would have on the hiker's body, but he'd been close to dying. If he emerged, he'd have achieved what he'd come for, there was no doubt about it. Hesitation might as well lead to Brandon losing the fight, so he'd have to strike first.

Thing is, the bat did not want to get close to the pool of mud again out of fear he'd fall in, so perhaps it would be better to pull Biran away from it as soon as possible... With rope that would be an easy thing to do. Then, once the hiker had been pulled over the logs, he'd be off balance, or in the best case he'd be lying on the ground; a good position for Brandon to pin him down and knock him out. Then he'd break some bones, tie the man up, and continue digging his grave, throwing him in. Perhaps he'd even drive some of those climbing pins through his body and pin him to the bottom, just in case. That should work.

Still digging, Brandon continued to ponder over his plan, trying to fit some fire in there, pondering whether it would be better or worse if he burned the hiker. Would it have any effect? Would destroying the man's body be equal to killing a mortal man? Or would the body continue to live on, but in a multitude of tiny pieces? As ashes? There was no way to tell, and no way to find out. Either way, if he burned the hiker in the grave, he could trap the ashes under a thick layer of earth, and even if he'd survive being reduced to ashes and dust, he wouldn't be able to escape his earthy prison. A perfect plan, yes, the bat would try this.

After about three quarters of a bell digging, Brandon had dug a rectangular hole of about one meter deep, not as deep as he wanted the grave to be -only half of the preferred depth, to be exact- but for now it would do. Now he had to rest a bit, and work on some other things, like a way to easily set fire to the hiker. Brandon looked at what he had with him; a flint and steel, and a bottle of alcohol... Sal, you are a genius! Alcohol is flammable! I'll just douse Biran with alcohol and then... Then what? With flint and steel it would be a drag to quickly light the liquid. Sal had done it with reimancy, a couple seasons past, but Brandon had no magic to use. But he did have his ingenuity and he'd used flammable philters before.

Maybe he could craft something quite alike to the flammable philters, something that mimicked its effect. It wouldn't be too hard to do, the bat reckoned. He just had to make sure there was an open flame source he had with him, so when he doused the man in alcohol, he could just throw a piece of burning cloth or so at him... But that seemed to be not quite effective. Even if he threw the whole bottle, he'd have to throw the cloth as well, which would get rid of the surprise and perhaps the hiker might see through him. But what if he only had to throw only once? What if the burning cloth was attached to the alcohol? What if he treated it like a candle? With the cloth being the wick? If alcohol was flammable, and would ignite upon contact with a flame; it would burst into flame when the bottle released the alcohol, right? It was worth a try. Sadly enough, there was no room for tests, as the bat had only one bottle of alcohol on hand.

Wasting no time on speculations, the bat tore a piece of cloth from the chemise he was waring, and soaked it in the alcohol, to ensure it would burn easily. Then he broke one of the branches of one of the trees, wrapped another length of cloth soaked in alcohol around it and planted it upright in the ground. It would be his torch, that way he wouldn't have to struggle with the flint and steel. The other length of cloth was stuffed in the bottle, one half on the outside, so he could light it easily, and then the bat pushed the cork back in the opening, sealing it off. He hoped this would prevent the fire to reach the liquid prematurely. His preparations were complete, now Brandon only had to rest and wait.

It took a while, but then the earth started to grumble, shaking the trees and making some fall. An earthquake? Now? Here? That couldn't be a coincidence, nor could the steam coming from the mud be. It spread out like mist, covering the entire area and making it hard to see. A voice could be heard speaking words and sentences the bat couldn't understand at all. The tenseness in his body returned, and his body started trembling slightly, adrenaline starting to flow as the fear kicked in. For a moment, the bat thought he heard someone say “well done”, but he couldn't be sure, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. For a moment the mist cleared a bit, and the bat saw a man dressed in rather stylish clothes near the pool, one arm in the mud and tears of blood running down his cheeks. It was only there for a tick or so, but it was more than long enough to unnerve the bat. Was he starting to see things? Was this mist responsible?

Quickly, he tore off a sleeve of his chemise and wrapped it around his face so it covered his nose and mouth, hoping it would stop him from breathing the stinking mist. It began to thin soon though, followed by a bubbling of the mud, and the appearance of a hand. Quickly, the bat made his way to his torch and lit it, striking the flint with the steel a couple times. Then he grabbed a length of rope and ran to the logs edging the pool of mud, heart starting to beat faster and faster. Meanwhile Biran had pulled himself free from the mud, but he did not look anything like he had before. Not only had his wound healed, but his form had become skeletal and hairless. The once-mortal hiker couched up some mud and felt his face, staring around, seemingly not seeing Brandon at all.

That transformation was all the proof Brandon needed, holding the rope with both hands, he flung the rope between his hands over the man's head, pulling it closer so it would hit the back of the immortal hiker's neck. Then he'd make a circle-like movement with one arm, causing more rope to coil around the man's neck. That was the plan anyways, for Brandon reckoned the man had not yet come to, and as such he wouldn't be able to react as fast; a golden opportunity. If it worked, Brandon would place one foot on the log in front of him and give a mighty pull using the muscles in his legs, his back and arms to launch the hiker over the log and closer to him. Should the hiker have fallen onto the ground, Brandon would be on top of him, pinning his wrists down with his knees and striking the side of man's face with his fists repeatedly, hoping to knock him out cold. If Biran were to land on his feet, Brandon would knee him in the groan and attempt to grab the man's face, planning to slam the back of the man's head into the log. A hard hit to the back of the skull usually was enough to cause unconsciousness or even death. All the while, Brandon would have been yelling in rage. “You tricked me! You deceived me! I believed you wanted to die here, not get rid of your mortality! You'll pay for that!”

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Mirage]

Biran did not seem to notice as the noose wase looped around his neck, eyes still glazed even as he was jerked from his feet and dragged onto land on his back. He would lay there lifeless, offering no resistance as the blows began to rain down, each one snapping his neck from side to side in a jerking motion. It took a few ticks before the creature blinked his eyes, lids opening fully for the first time and seeming clarity coming to light them from within. He jerked his head straight, staring straight up at Brandon with pupils that did not dilate or react at all to the light, and any more hits to his head or face would only cause the slightest movement, never breaking the stare that bored into Brandon unblinking.

"Brandon..." his voice was rough, like it hadn't been used in years. Brandon could feel the man's fingers and wrists flexing beneath his needs, and then without warning Brian sat up, the Kelvic's weight seeming to not matter at all to him as he did so. If he did not move Brandon would be lifted from the ground as Biran lifted his hands, simply shrugging the bat off and standing in a fluid motion to stand at his full height. One hand reached up, lifting the noose from around his neck and tossing it to the side, "As far as I recall I never deceived you even in the slightest. I even told you I had no intentions of dying. Perhaps you are simply too stupid to see what is right in front of you."

There was a sound of popping joints as Biran stretched his new muscles, a satisfied grin parting his lips to reveal crooked and yellowed teeth, "But still, you did help me and for that I will show you some gratitude. Keep your life, and take whatever you want from my belongings. Consider it payment for services rendered." With that the man would simply turn around, casually walking away around the pool of bubbling mud, heading to the opposite side and making his way to the forest beyond.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

For a couple moments, Brandon thought he was doing good, that he’d be able to knock Biran out quickly, that immortality was all the man had gained. But once the hiker started to focus his gaze and bore his stare in Brandon’s own, the bat felt instinctively that was not the case, that things were about to take a turn for the worse. Before Brandon’s hits had managed to smack the man’s head from side to side, but now it barely moved, no matter how hard he hit. It didn’t matter that Brandon changed from hitting the man’s face to his jaw specifically –which should have been enough to knock out even the toughest of fighters after this many blows.

That alone was enough to unnerve the bat more than anything else he’d found creepy this night. A place filled with death, but without any signs of life or regrowth? The unnatural quiet? The bubbling mud and the chill in the air? The greenish mist? No, of all those things, the fact that Biran did not even seem to feel the blows, that he didn’t even respond was what really, really terrified Brandon. He knew he wasn’t the strongest; that was why he focused on footwork and hitting weak spots of the humanoid anatomy. It was like some sort of déjà vu; when he’d encountered a ghost, nothing had worked either. His daggers had struck nothing but thin air, he hadn’t been able to do anything that affected the spirit at all. This was akin to that.

Like a sword that could cleave through flesh and bone, severing limbs with ease, whether the victims wore armor or not. But then, suddenly, there came along a man, and your sword couldn’t even cut through a hair on his head. It was a sensation of powerlessness, of helplessness, and Brandon didn’t like it one bit. He refused to acknowledge it. He’d honed his body, he’d seen what his martial arts could do, just how powerful it was. And still, even though his blows became more desperate, and even though the bat poured more power into each one of them, it didn’t affect the hiker at all. Even when Biran started to move, the bat continued raining punches onto his face, refusing to accept the seemingly futility of it all.

Brandon was lifted off the ground before he realized what was going on, shrugged off to fall down, landing on all fours, hands launching him a little bit backwards and back on his feet, some distance between him and the abomination. Cold sweat ran down the bat’s spine as it became painfully clear that the odds had turned against him, and the weak man from before was now just as strong as he’d been weak. Not only was he now as tough as a rock, but also stronger than ten men, despite the skeletal appearance. There was no chance Brandon could take him on barehanded, even if he still was quicker, swifter and faster than Biran. Then again, he hadn’t used every way he knew to knock a man out. There was still the neck to try, the temple to strike, the back of the head to bludgeon with a rock. He wasn’t out of options, not entirely, but a certain fear had manifested and nested in his chest. A fear that he would run out of options, that there was nothing he could do.

If not for that fear, and being intimidated by the hiker’s new strength, Brandon might have responded with something like; “I don’t need the gratitude of an abomination.” Or: “The only payment I desire for my services is your destruction!” But those were storybook heroes’ retorts, and Brandon was no hero, let alone a storybook one. Brandon could only stand and watch as the monster turned around and walked away casually, the optimist part of his mind only having one comment on the situation. I’m going to need a bigger pit to throw that abomination in. I’d better double the depth. Despite its believe Brandon could actually knock it out, the bat couldn’t move at all.

Well, that was until he remembered he could still try to burn it. With a little luck that strength came with the price of being extra susceptible to fire. A quick prayer to Ivak and Ovek was made, but the bat doubted he’d be heard. Nevertheless, he hurried towards the torch he’d planted in the ground, and grabbed the improvised weapon he’d decided to call “Liquor Flare”. A fancy name in hopes the effect would confirm it eagerly. A moment he stood indecisively, but then the thief slid a couple of the metal climbing pins into his pocket, wrapped a length or rope over his shoulder. Maybe it’d be of use later on.

Careful not to smother the flame of the torch by walking to quickly, Brandon moved stealthily, following the hiker, catching up faster than expected because of the immortal’s casual pace. Brandon had no idea if he had already been noticed or not, if Biran was confident enough in his new body to let the bat catch up, but Bran didn’t want to wager on it. He kept moving stealthily, body bent in a half-crouch as his feet were placed carefully and yet the pace was swift enough to catch up. When he guessed he’d come close enough, he straightened his back and lit the cloth of the Liquor Flare with the torch, planting the latter back in the ground quietly.

Another prayer was thought up, this time to Dira, Ivak, Ovek and whatever the creativity god’s name was to make his weapon work, and to Kihala so he might survive this ordeal. His arm was drawn back, one eye open, the other closed to help him aim, and then his arm catapulted the Liquor Flare sending it towards the immortal’s back with great speed.

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Mirage]

Flamed erupted where the bottle struck, quickly beginning to spread and causing Biran to stumble a step before looking back toward Brandon. Where the fire touched a dark brownish green smoke began to arise, skin pealing back to reveal pulsing flesh beneath, and then white of bone under that. This continued as the fire spread, the smoke beginning to billow out now and completely consume the creature who stood without making a sound, staring at Brandon motionless even when his eyes disintegrated to smoke as well and left only empty sockets and a grinning skull. Then, at last, even the skeleton and organs housed within exploded in a large burst of green smoke, dissipating as it began to spread over the area above the Kelvic.

The bat was then completely alone, the remains of the creature still hovering among the branches, refusing to completely dissipate right away, and Brandon would have a few ticks to breath and feel triumph. That feeling, however would not last. The blanket of miasma began to collect together, spinning over head and spiraling back down to the ground, quickly surrounding Brandon and blocking out the world with its billowing clouds. The substance would burn Brandon's lungs if he breathed it in, sucking at his very life and making the world spin as his lungs and throat burned from the contact. Without warning then Brandon would feel a hand clamp around his neck, stopping his breathing all together and from where that hand gripped his throat an arm began to form, the miasma collecting to reform that same long thin arm and tight skin. All around him the billowing currents collected and condensed, forming to shape the undead creatures body once more as he solidified, no signs of injury from the burning flames existed at all.

As easily as one would lift a babe Biran lifted Brandon off his feet, a look of distaste on his features as he shook his head as if he were disappointed, "That really was not very smart. You should have taken your reward and walked away, and everything would have been fine for both of us. Now I cannot let you live, so then how to dispose of you..." He seemed to think for a tick before his eyes flicked to the bubbling pool of mud, and he smiled as he looked back at Brandon, "Ah, I have just the thing. Why don't I turn you into what you hate so much? Then there will be no need to be angry. We will be the same."

With a laugh that sounded more like a choked cough Biran began to carry Brandon over the mud vat, half dragging him as he pulled him by his neck and let his feet drag on the dirt. The closer he got the warmer Brandon felt, the steam from the mud stinking the Kelvics eyes as Biran began to lift him once more to hang over the mud.

"Well this is the end of you Brandon. While I would prefer not to kill someone who helped me I cannot let you get away with trying to kill me yourself. This is just how it is. Now, please die and be reborn as an undead servant."

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

At first there was a grin, a feeling of triumph that flooded the bat’s senses. He’d done it; it had worked. He’d destroyed the monstrosity completely, no part of it was left intact. But, then suddenly, the smoke his fire had created was swirling around him, and his lungs burned. Brandon coughed and huffed, feeling nauseous and dizzy. He’d have fallen on one knee, a hand supporting him as his body bent over, if not for the pressure on this throat. The vice grip choking the life out of him and keeping him standing. Eyes flicked down, not understanding what was going on, the grip itself was not enough, he needed to see.

Pale, skeletal arm, rippling muscles that were not bulky at all. A figure so frail, it was the perfect disguise for the abnormal strength and toughness it held. Biran reformed, the smoke disappeared, and no injury whatsoever remained on the man’s body. Brandon’s feet couldn’t feel the ground beneath them anymore, his hands clawed at the fingers around his neck, though failed to loosen it. His throat hurt, his lungs burned, and no breath came, not even when the bat gurgled and croaked desperately.

Not one wound, not a scratch. What was going on? What the petch was going on?! He’d seen the fire destroy Biran, he’d seen it consume him, and yet, there he stood, his hand around the bat’s neck. How? Why? This was so unfair! Not only immortality, but also strength and instant healing? That was so unfair! Nothing he had thrown at that thing had worked, not one thing had been able to actually affect him, let alone take him down. Brandon should have dug his hole right next to the mud vat, he should have been given an extra bell to dig. He could have thrown Biran in when he’d just crawled out of the pool. It would have been so much easier. But he hadn’t gotten two bells, he hadn’t dug near the vat.

Brandon’s face would have become paler than a sheet if not for the choke hold turning his face a reddish purple. His nails, dirty from digging in the earth earlier, clawed at the hand more and more desperate, his feet kicked before he was dragged off. His heels dragged over the ground, one hand started hammering at the arm holding him, but there was no use in doing so. His struggle was futile.

Above the mud he hung, a perilous situation, and yet, there was still hope. No hope to take down that creature, no, but there was hope in escaping. Dying was indeed an option, but that right would be stripped away from him once he’d fall in that mud. If it was just death waiting for him, that would have been better, but this? Brandon had no desire to become the same thing as Biran; he did not want to lose his very own perfect body. No need to be angry when we’re the same? Well, that hiker was sorely mistaken. Brandon’s rage would peak and he’d dedicate the rest of his non-life to destroying the other, and then himself. He’d keep Biran from leaving this place, if he got the same power, he could accomplish that easily, right? But still, that was not a preferred outcome.

Death was good, escape was even better. Didn’t he have those climbing pins in his pocket? He could use those, couldn’t he? It wouldn’t do anything, he was sure of it, but it might just be enough to distract the immortal. Yes, that was it, his final struggle. His hand reached into his pants, grabbing two of those pins, one was thrown away, onto the earth –he didn’t need two anyway. The other was held firmly in his grip. Brandon stabbed hard, aiming for the abdomen, aiming for the place with the hook-like things holding two flaps of flesh together. It probably wouldn’t help one bit, but it was a distraction, and that was all he needed.

Fortunately, the rope had been dropped when he’d thought he’d won, and the tattered piece of clothing that once was a shirt wasn’t restraining whatsoever. Brandon shifted, a flash of light as bright as Syna herself. He was tiny now, and a grip to choke a man was not going to hold a bat at all. He fell, nose-diving down, spreading his wings and flapping just once; it wasn’t enough to soar the skies, but it was enough to reach the solid earth. There, he shifted again, and pushed at the abomination, hoping he would fall in the mud himself. The dropped climbing pin was grabbed as the bat coughed violently, finally breathing again, dragging himself away sluggishly. Petch this shyke; this was a wrong he couldn’t right. It was a mistake he couldn’t fix. He’d tried, and he’d failed. Clearly he was not the right man for the job; someone else was welcome to try. Bran would just flee. Once he caught his breath, he’d run as far as he could, hoping the immortal wasn’t granted unnatural speed as well. And if he could not outrun him, well, a meeting with Dira was all that rested him. But it would be on his own terms, with a climbing pin through his heart.

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Mirage]

c
As Brandon shifted the first time a look of annoyance passed Biran's features, but so sudden was the second shift and shove that he did not have the time to react, though his right hand was raised as if to stroke the Kelvic firm across the jaw. Then he fell, not quite tumbling but falling straight down like a tree. His body turned, red eyes glaring at Brandon as he approached the bubbling mud, but just before he made contact his entire body exploded into the same greenish broke smoke, spiraling up and then reforming directly in the path that Brandon would take to run away.

Shaking his head Biran sighed, "I have tried to show you mercy. I offered you reward for your help, and instead of just killing you I gave you a chance to return to this world as a new and more powerful being. Each and every time, however, you defy me and spit in the face of my kindness. Fine then, if you wish to simply die I will grant you that right here and now."

The long vertical slit in the middle of Birans abdomen twitched, and then began to open, wider and wider. What once looked like looks now revealed themselves to be many hooked teeth of varying lengths, but each looked as sharp as any blade. Inside the gaping hole was a mass of red and green tissue, like his insides were alive and moving on their own. A large gaping mouth it was, one that quivered in anticipation as Biran took a step closer, and then another, his hand reaching out and his eyes a cold mask that simply said that Brandon would die right here, and right now.

The world seemed to slow as Biran came closer, and somehow Brandon found himself unable to move, unable to run. Like he was caught in a trance, unable to look away even as his death approached. Biran's eyes seemed to glow with an internal light, his body stretching and growing until it filled his vision and the world around was blocked out. There was nothing left in this world except Brandon and the gaping mouth getting closer and closer.

A howling pierced the veil of silence that had surrounded them. It was loud, but not like that of a wolf or a dog. It was high pitched and warbling, wavering as it struck the air. Just as the first howl was beginning to come down a second joint it and their calls intermingled. The warmth of the pool could no longer be felt, and instead there was a noticeable chill in the air.

Biran turned back to look toward the sounds, and as he did Brandon would find he could move once more. The creatures eyes were wide, searching, and there was something else there as well, something out of place for one who claimed to now me Immortal. Just as another howl came, this time closer, Biran turned fully away from Brandon, the gaping mouth closing as he seemed to complete forget about the Kelvic. Then his entire body would erupt into a swirling pass of the greenish miasma, spinning rapidly before streaming off over the mudpool, passing through the trees and into the darkness beyond.

Now Brandon could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer, a four legged animal running with intent and speed, but just as two shapes burst through the forest into the clearing they were already leaping over the pool and following after in the direction Biran had gone. Just two streaks of color, one black and one white.

Brandon was free to move again. There was no immediate danger seen or sensed in the air, but the chill had not escaped. The mud vat still bubbled, but the smell of rot and decay was no longer noticeable, replaced by a much sweeter and unidentifiable smell.
c

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

Sluggish steps were taken, breath coming out ragged, and inhalation of fresh air done in desperate gasps. Brandon was in no condition to run, not until he had rested a bit, but there simply was no time for that. There was no telling when Biran would get back out of the mud- However, there had been no splashing sound, nothing at all… For a tick the bat pulled his eyes away from the ground beneath his feet to glance backwards. Upon just raising his head though, he saw the immortal hiker blocking his path, looking grim and severely disappointed. Brandon didn’t care in the least about appeasing the hiker, but the fact to see him stand there was really unnerving.

Damn! Why?! How did he get there? How did he avoid falling in the mud? Brandon was quite sure he’d felt the man loose balance… But it did not really matter, in his state, the bat knew he wouldn’t have been able to escape anyway. Maybe if he’d hid, but then again, Biran would probably have found him with the chime. Bran did not have a clue what powers the immortal gained when he had emerged from that mud. Abnormal strength and stamina, healing abilities, teleportation? SO why not the ability to see heartbeats or predict the future?

But Brandon did not care anymore, not one bit. He’d been shown the futility of his actions, and by the time he’d realized this, it had been too late already. Without any air he could barely move –even though he was slowly recovering- let alone run away. No, this was futile, and Brandon knew it. Biran had said he would kill him. He’d called dying his right, and Brandon agreed with that. Dying was the right of the mortals. Dying was the right of the living. Though he would have enjoyed to live for a while longer… He had so many things left undone… Places to visit… Hell, he hadn’t even reached Wind Reach yet. And all because he had not seen this coming. Well, how could he have? But still, he should have killed Biran when he’d met him. End his suffering…

Yet, back then the man had still been alive, and by being alive Biran denied Brandon the right to decide whether he should live or die. Then again, it had been certain the hiker would die from the start. Well, there was nothing he could do about that now; Biran’s abdomen revealed a wide gaping mouth, complete with rows of sharp wicked teeth. Bran could not move at all, he noticed when he wanted to move his arm and pierce his own heart with the pin. He couldn’t escape, but he couldn’t even move a muscle. Damn! I don’t want to be eaten! I don’t want to be eaten! Can’t I even end things my way?! Daaaaamn! There was no escape, Biran came closer slowly, probably aware of Brandon’s frozen state. Cold sweat poured out of his pores, heart pumping faster and faster, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Soon, there was nothing in his field of vision than the immortal and its huge abdominal mouth, too close to be healthy. Well, this was it, he’d be eaten alive. Not Brandon’s most preferred way to die, not at all. And then, then a howl pierced the silence, kind of like a dogs, but yet not quite. It belonged to an animal Brandon had never seen before, and never heard before. Another howl soon joined the second, a chorus of noise getting closer to the bat’s location. Biran turned his head back, and Brandon’s arms fell back to his sides, the climbing pin escaping his grip and falling to the ground. The bat himself stumbled a few paces backwards, a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding exhaled.

Of all things to focus on, Brandon’s eyes, wild with fear, settled on Biran’s face, watching the red orbs without really noticing it. They were wide, and held an emotion that he had not seen ever since the man’s transformation. But no, that couldn’t be true, he had to be seeing things. There was no way an immortal would feel fear, especially one as powerful as Biran. Or was it not fear at all? Maybe Bran had just been mistaken? Either way, the immortal dissolved into smoke, all of it streaming away as if carried by the wind, except for the fact that the wind did not blow in that direction.

Something approached, quickly, footsteps get closer in rapid pace. Four legs, Brandon was sure of it. But he paid it little mind, instead he fell on his knees as his legs gave away, the tension and the near-death experience having drained him. Two streaks of color raced by, a black one, barely visible against the black background. The white shade was much easier to see, and Brandon kind of stared at the trees, seeing the afterimages still flashing by. Then, he fell on his back, the night sky filling his vision. “Damn, that was a whole lot closer to death than I wanted to be… ” Bran liked to think he often flirted with Death, but this time, it seemed he had been dragged into an intimate and close dance, one that had almost cost him his relation with Life. “But I do wonder where those … animals came from…” he whispered, noticing the stink of the mud had been replaced with a rather sweet scent, one he –just like the howls- did not recognize.

x

credit goes to Euthisa

[Mirage]

"That seems to be a common reaction when someone has a brush with death." A woman's voice came from behind Brandon, but just as he turned a figure would walk around on his other side to stand beside him, "It is rare to find someone who was expecting and welcoming of death. Not that it matters one way or another. They all die just the same."

It was a woman. A woman with long black hair and matching black dress that flowed and fluttered despite the lack of a breeze. She clasped her hands in front of her, not looking at Brandon but looking thoughtfully at the bubbling pool of mod before them both. It seemed that the smell of roses was coming from her.

"Before and After are seeing to Biran as we speak. He should know better than to run from Death. No matter how far he goes or how long he hides, one day I will find him and end his playing on borrowed time." Only now did the woman look down at Brandon, and in those coal black eyes there was no warmth or kindness. Just an icy void, an emptiness with no bottom and from which came an icy chill, "You brought that thing into this world and helped him defy the worlds natural course. That does not please me in the slightest." It wasn't stated with anger or malice. Just cold and blunt honesty. Dira herself was looking down on Brandon in disapproval. As for why she was there... Well that was still to be seen. If Brandon lived on past this moment.

[Brandon Blackwing]

x

A voice, a voice coming from behind him, a woman's. Where in the gods' names had she come from all of a sudden? Brandon's head snapped into the direction the sound had come from immediately, but he could only catch the slightest of glimpses as she evaded his stare by walking around him. Was she mocking him? Brandon couldn't really tell, nor could he decide just what emotion was hidden behind her words. She spoke again, and this time Brandon did see her, and got to his feet right away, scrambling and rather clumsily from exhaustion. “Well, it was either dying …. or become …. such …. a … thing....” his words left his mouth slower and slower as his gut was twisting.

There was something about this woman, something very, very familiar. Familiar and frightening, but not just ordinary fright oh no. It was agony. It was as if he was staring at that mouth of the abomination all over again. Adrenaline started pumping through his veins once more, but just like back then he could not move, he could only stare. This woman, she was beautiful, and yet she was not. No, that was not it. She was as beautiful as she was frightening. As beautiful as she was deadly. Brandon's instincts were rampaging through his head, they knew what was going on, whereas the bat's mind could not comprehend the situation. His instincts told him to run, to run far away and hide, to try his hardest to become a small insignificant pebble, so he wouldn't be noticed.

Then came the trembling, not from exhaustion, but pure fright. Sweat too started pouring from his pores, and his throat felt really, really dry. Almost as if he'd eaten a whole bucket of sand. He couldn't remember a time he had been more frightened than right then and there, not even when Biran was about to kill him he'd felt this afraid. Not even when the ghost had been messing with him he had been this afraid. Both were far scarier to the eye, but not to his senses. Not to his instincts. Brandon could almost feel the vast power the woman in front of him possessed. It frightened him, it frightened him so very much. His heart felt as if it was trying to escape from his chest, and his lungs just performed the bare minimum of actions, allowing him to barely keep himself from dropping dead right then and there.

No mortal could possess such power, no woman could just come and frighten anyone by just appearing before them, not even doing anything. Not once in his life had he been so afraid of a woman who just stood there inspecting a pool. Not once had he been drained of almost all the blood in his face that he looked even more dead than a corpse. But he wasn't dead, he wasn't dead. How come? Why? Why was he still alive? Why had he been spared in the first place? Coincidence? A whim? Why? She didn't need to tell him her name, or what she was, Brandon knew. He just knew. A Goddess. Dira. No doubt about it. Only Death itself had scared Biran before his transformation, and only Death could scare him after. No doubt about it, this was Dira. This was a Goddess.

Dira was before him, but if the bat had ever thought he'd wanted to meet her, he now knew he'd rather not had the honor. Especially not now. Not now he'd petched up everything? Not now he'd created -or unwillingly and unwittingly helped- such a despicable abomination. Animation was one thing, but this was worse. This was far, far worse. A mistake he'd tried to fix, but had ultimately failed. With this realization, Brandon's legs gave away, making him fall on his knees. He didn't know whether he'd ordered them to or if it just happened. Nevertheless, he knelt, head bowed to the ground. It did not stop his trembling though, nor did it wipe away his frightened expression.

She spoke again, confirming the bat's deductions, confirming his fear, his agony, his wildest imaginations. Dira, Queen of the Dead stood there, before him. Before him of all people. He still did not know why. Had he been spared because she wanted to smother his life herself? Had she spared him because things would get further out of hand if he'd been eaten? Or was there no reason at all? Did gods need a reason to do what they did at all? Who was he to ask? The curiosity was there, but he didn't dare to ask. One didn't ask the gods when they stood right in front of you. You cursed using their name, you prayed to them when they were not around, but once they were in front of you, you did neither of those things.

Brandon managed to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat as Dira berated him. There was no anger in her voice though, maybe it showed on her face, but the bat wasn't planning on looking up. Instead of anger, there was disappointment, as clear as daylight. “...” Brandon tried, opening his mouth and closing it without a sound escaping. It took two more tries before he found his voice, but still, there were very little things to say. If it was anyone else he would have argued, he would have said it was not his intention. But intentions didn't matter; deeds spoke louder. One did not offer excuses to a Goddess. One did not argue with a Goddess. Not if you valued your life, and even then your fate was unsure. “I a-am terribly sorry,” the bat managed, with wavering voice. Four words. No more, no less. He couldn't manage more words, but they did convey his emotions, they were all he needed right now. They were true too.

There was no excuse for what he had done, none at all. Indeed; he had helped create that monster, he had. It was probably the one thing he regretted the most in his life so far. The worst decision he'd ever made. He had not intended this, but that didn't make it less despicable. That did not undo the act. And to not make matters worse he didn't deny it. He couldn't, not to Dira and not to himself. “I- I tried to fix... e-everything,” the trembling got worse, “I tried t-to st-stop it a-afterwards, but,” Tears were coming now, tears of fear, of helplessness, of frustration, and of self-loathing. “But I failed!” A sob. “I failed,” he whispered, his forehead now resting on the ground hands on both sides, but not carrying any weight at all.

x

credit goes to Euthisa