---For those unfamiliar with Drowtales, just to clarify beyond doubt: This oneshot takes place many years after Led and Irreversible.---
--
Such a faithful, obedient daughter. Giving her mother the best of her effort...
Only to have it thrown back in her face with gusto.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Years spent under her mother's hand, struggling to overcome being Tainted, had left her with nothing. She was quickly running out of faith in anything, even the luck of the draw... her mother had shunned her, leaving her to prove herself over and over, always falling short.
Sure, she knew, she had made some mistakes. In some ways, they'd been huge ones... unforgivable at best. But they were mistakes-- made out of ignorance, made out of inexperience.
That first mistake, accepting the Taint, had never left her mother's mind. And every time her hopes rose that maybe, just maybe it was forgotten... everything had to fall apart.
Finally it had occurred to Syphile that maybe she'd tried to please that bitch long enough. Besides that, her whole fate rested on this one mission. Her world was the Sharens now, the same clan whose daughter had led them all to be Tainted years ago at Orthorbbae. Unless she killed Quain'tana, they had no use for her... if she managed to take the woman down, they would welcome her. Finally, a chance to start over.
A clan that didn't care if her eyes were red.
And no reason to look back in fear of the Sarghress.
She crept up the stairs slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. Her faith in her mission was unshakable... and it was only bolstered when they didn't notice her move closer. Not a single person looked her way! The fools of Clan Sarghress.
Now was her chance. She'd show all of them.
"Ill'Haress Quain-tana Val'Sarghress!!"
Several ears pricked at the volume.
"As a Val of Sarghress myself, I challenge you for the dominion of this clan!"
Now, that got some reactions. Syphile couldn't help a smile as she leveled her hand crossbow, already taking aim. Shielding magic came up, knocking it away.
"You are a Val'arghress no more. Whoever your new master, it is she who ought to challenge for the clan."
Her jaw tightened at Quain'tana's calm expression, her even tone. She wouldn't even turn around! The mercenary queen wouldn't rise to a challenge without being baited? She felt disdain wash through her as she fought for even the chance to duel Quain'tana. Finally, she motioned for space, and turned to face Syphile.
Crossbow in hand, faith guiding her bolts, she smiled.
This would be over in just a few short seconds...
...
--
...
Syphile opened her eyes slowly. Everything hurt, her mouth was hot and thick like she'd been punched-- she had, sometime at the beginning of the fight-- her heartbeat echoed through her body and beat against her armor. Blood soaked her chest and face, sticking in her hair.
She couldn't understand why the huge gash in her throat hadn't already killed her... if she remembered right, it had, and at the hands of her own enemy. Humiliation was quick to couple with the pain, twisting her stomach. Not even the Sharen would take her now.
Was she still dying? Had she blacked out, only to come back for the last few seconds?
But as if in answer to her confusion, her heart kept beating, audible in the total silence. Her pulse was slow and, oddly, steady. She winced and held perfectly still... had her goddess smiled upon her? Had her faith paid off...?
Or was she dreaming, already in Hell? After all, according to Quain'tana, that was what happened to a Tainted soul.
Syphile thought about it. A heartbeat was a somatic property. Souls didn't have-- didn't need-- hearts, and so they didn't have pulses. Pain receptors, maybe, but not hearts.
How is this possible...?
A voice resounded in her head. It was deep and rough, the words looming up like shadows, echoing in time with her heart.
Sharess?
No... a male voice.
You are healing, darkling, coming back from death. You'll heal up for your Master, like a good little host. Her mana tingled against her skin when he spoke.
Ice chilled Syphile's blood. Her jaw tightened, working uselessly, as her eyes rounded in terror. She could see the nether beast that had lived inside her soul, see his slender frame and long, sharp horns as a hazy dark figure to her left.
They made a mistake when they tainted you, all those years ago.
His voice was softer now. Was she dead already... or going back to where she'd been? Was her demon torturing her in the afterlife, or....?
Stop that, girl. Think about living, and listen... they made a mistake. Everyone in this stupid world has made one, some more than others. He paused for a beat, then, But those fools at Orthorbbae were the worst fools of all... they didn't even recognize a Lord of the Abyss. And now they kill the Lord's host like some common terrorist... she could hear the disdain, the sheer anger in his voice.
What about when I heal, she replied, wondering if she could talk to him this way. Her heart was speeding up, blood still flowing out of the fatal wound. She could feel the warmth trickling down her cold neck... everything had gone to shit back there, and now no house would take her. Syphile wondered if Quain'tana had been more merciful than the demon... at least she'd run out of options and then died. Now there was only danger for her to come back to.
You'll go with me. He seemed confident, sure. The blood flow seemed to slow down, but her pulse was still climbing steadily. That's the reason you're here, after all...
She felt a flare of her own anger, directed at him this time. Here she was in a pile of carrion, bled-out and weak, and he was talking about himself. Trust a demon to be helpful...
Listen to me, girl.
Syphile sighed. Blood freckled her tongue when she let her breath out that fast and she winced, swallowing the taste of metal and salt.
The Underdark has nothing left for you?--is that it? You think you've run out of world? The tone was derisive and sarcastic. What about your silly mother, that Ill'haress of yours? She knew what to do when the world ran out on you...
Run out on it. Leave this place. Her throat tightened around the pain of the wound as it finished healing. Leave... forever?
Or die again. And if you choose that path, you will find yourself possessed.
He laughed as she lay back to rest, gathering her strength while, despite itself, her pulse slowed and became a bit stronger. His newly healed, fully obedient slave. What soul-bound demon could ask for better?
Good girl. He seemed to like it, that she'd begun to trust him. Put her hope in him to move her forward... however grimly.
Syphile let him work without comment, healing, restoring, running free. She couldn't decide which moment had been closer to rock bottom for her, which had been a more total loss... the moment Quain'tana killed her, or the instant she agreed to put her faith in someone else.
--
Such a faithful, obedient daughter. Giving her mother the best of her effort...
Only to have it thrown back in her face with gusto.
Every.
Single.
Time.
Years spent under her mother's hand, struggling to overcome being Tainted, had left her with nothing. She was quickly running out of faith in anything, even the luck of the draw... her mother had shunned her, leaving her to prove herself over and over, always falling short.
Sure, she knew, she had made some mistakes. In some ways, they'd been huge ones... unforgivable at best. But they were mistakes-- made out of ignorance, made out of inexperience.
That first mistake, accepting the Taint, had never left her mother's mind. And every time her hopes rose that maybe, just maybe it was forgotten... everything had to fall apart.
Finally it had occurred to Syphile that maybe she'd tried to please that bitch long enough. Besides that, her whole fate rested on this one mission. Her world was the Sharens now, the same clan whose daughter had led them all to be Tainted years ago at Orthorbbae. Unless she killed Quain'tana, they had no use for her... if she managed to take the woman down, they would welcome her. Finally, a chance to start over.
A clan that didn't care if her eyes were red.
And no reason to look back in fear of the Sarghress.
She crept up the stairs slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. Her faith in her mission was unshakable... and it was only bolstered when they didn't notice her move closer. Not a single person looked her way! The fools of Clan Sarghress.
Now was her chance. She'd show all of them.
"Ill'Haress Quain-tana Val'Sarghress!!"
Several ears pricked at the volume.
"As a Val of Sarghress myself, I challenge you for the dominion of this clan!"
Now, that got some reactions. Syphile couldn't help a smile as she leveled her hand crossbow, already taking aim. Shielding magic came up, knocking it away.
"You are a Val'arghress no more. Whoever your new master, it is she who ought to challenge for the clan."
Her jaw tightened at Quain'tana's calm expression, her even tone. She wouldn't even turn around! The mercenary queen wouldn't rise to a challenge without being baited? She felt disdain wash through her as she fought for even the chance to duel Quain'tana. Finally, she motioned for space, and turned to face Syphile.
Crossbow in hand, faith guiding her bolts, she smiled.
This would be over in just a few short seconds...
...
--
...
Syphile opened her eyes slowly. Everything hurt, her mouth was hot and thick like she'd been punched-- she had, sometime at the beginning of the fight-- her heartbeat echoed through her body and beat against her armor. Blood soaked her chest and face, sticking in her hair.
She couldn't understand why the huge gash in her throat hadn't already killed her... if she remembered right, it had, and at the hands of her own enemy. Humiliation was quick to couple with the pain, twisting her stomach. Not even the Sharen would take her now.
Was she still dying? Had she blacked out, only to come back for the last few seconds?
But as if in answer to her confusion, her heart kept beating, audible in the total silence. Her pulse was slow and, oddly, steady. She winced and held perfectly still... had her goddess smiled upon her? Had her faith paid off...?
Or was she dreaming, already in Hell? After all, according to Quain'tana, that was what happened to a Tainted soul.
Syphile thought about it. A heartbeat was a somatic property. Souls didn't have-- didn't need-- hearts, and so they didn't have pulses. Pain receptors, maybe, but not hearts.
How is this possible...?
A voice resounded in her head. It was deep and rough, the words looming up like shadows, echoing in time with her heart.
Sharess?
No... a male voice.
You are healing, darkling, coming back from death. You'll heal up for your Master, like a good little host. Her mana tingled against her skin when he spoke.
Ice chilled Syphile's blood. Her jaw tightened, working uselessly, as her eyes rounded in terror. She could see the nether beast that had lived inside her soul, see his slender frame and long, sharp horns as a hazy dark figure to her left.
They made a mistake when they tainted you, all those years ago.
His voice was softer now. Was she dead already... or going back to where she'd been? Was her demon torturing her in the afterlife, or....?
Stop that, girl. Think about living, and listen... they made a mistake. Everyone in this stupid world has made one, some more than others. He paused for a beat, then, But those fools at Orthorbbae were the worst fools of all... they didn't even recognize a Lord of the Abyss. And now they kill the Lord's host like some common terrorist... she could hear the disdain, the sheer anger in his voice.
What about when I heal, she replied, wondering if she could talk to him this way. Her heart was speeding up, blood still flowing out of the fatal wound. She could feel the warmth trickling down her cold neck... everything had gone to shit back there, and now no house would take her. Syphile wondered if Quain'tana had been more merciful than the demon... at least she'd run out of options and then died. Now there was only danger for her to come back to.
You'll go with me. He seemed confident, sure. The blood flow seemed to slow down, but her pulse was still climbing steadily. That's the reason you're here, after all...
She felt a flare of her own anger, directed at him this time. Here she was in a pile of carrion, bled-out and weak, and he was talking about himself. Trust a demon to be helpful...
Listen to me, girl.
Syphile sighed. Blood freckled her tongue when she let her breath out that fast and she winced, swallowing the taste of metal and salt.
The Underdark has nothing left for you?--is that it? You think you've run out of world? The tone was derisive and sarcastic. What about your silly mother, that Ill'haress of yours? She knew what to do when the world ran out on you...
Run out on it. Leave this place. Her throat tightened around the pain of the wound as it finished healing. Leave... forever?
Or die again. And if you choose that path, you will find yourself possessed.
He laughed as she lay back to rest, gathering her strength while, despite itself, her pulse slowed and became a bit stronger. His newly healed, fully obedient slave. What soul-bound demon could ask for better?
Good girl. He seemed to like it, that she'd begun to trust him. Put her hope in him to move her forward... however grimly.
Syphile let him work without comment, healing, restoring, running free. She couldn't decide which moment had been closer to rock bottom for her, which had been a more total loss... the moment Quain'tana killed her, or the instant she agreed to put her faith in someone else.