o, young cardinals.

[oxygen]

It was a hot day, hotter than most: the air felt thick and heavy with humidity, and this only worsened as hours past and the sun crept higher and higher into the sky of Western Rosinder. Night came with its cooling breeze, but it did little in regards to the sweltering feeling that those traveling by day had longed to escape. Indeed, there was no abdication, no rescue from the weather of the day; it was as though the sun, by some cruel twist of fate, had infiltrated the night - invisible - and ruled over it, as well.

Hadrian couldn't help but to chuckle at that; he had heard of strange things in his (almost) twenty years, but to think that someone could bring the sun from the day to the night was enough to make him laugh. In this heat, it didn't take much at all - anything to keep his mind elsewhere.

He had been traveling for most of the week, having left the small town of Eastdown three days ago - or was it four? Hadrian struggled to remember, but the heat had so befuddled him that the memory was distant, difficult to recall with clarity. Regardless, he had in fact Eastdown some time ago - though when his journey began, it was not under the scrutiny of such an unforgiving sun - and his trek had taken him a good distance to the northeast (or so he presumed the direction to be, at least). A self-proclaimed oracle at the town's annual carnival had bestowed upon him the following fortune: "Travel mountainward, and there you will find the sun: with it, you will know riches galore."

Chien (the dog that had followed Hadrian from Eastdown and, in truth, had before belonged to Mr. Borrows, the town's tavern keep) yawned lazily to the traveler's left. Hadrian shrugged and tossed the animal a piece of dried meat, saying, "Well, you didn't have to follow me, you know."

Hadrian had only that morning debated his decision. Eastdown was, in fact, a mountain-locked village; he had not thought to ask for true directions and had instead followed what he had called his "hunter's instinct." Again, he chuckled - though less from humor and more of pitiful decision making. Hadrian only assumed his instinct had been correct because he had indeed "found the sun," and it was ruthless.

"We're close, at least, to the mountains I mean." Hadrian nodded and scratched the dog's back, staring out into the night - his fire giving little light beyond throwing distance.

[_ascension]

The nocturnal wildlife thrived from thickets and tree-tops surrounding the traveler and his canine; their inhuman calls breaking the silence every so often, the noises echoing in reverberation across the dense vegetation while finally evaporating beneath the stars. All seemed well in the late evening hours, though the humidity would soon bring in dark clouds--already crossing over the mountains pass--across the land yet to be ventured. The sound of thunder could be heard while heading southward toward them. A second later, a streak of blue electricity shot across the sky. A storm was coming, indeed.

However, something else was also headed in their direction, fiercer than a storm could ever be. A robed figure, whose booted feet cared not about snapping twigs and heavy thuds, walked quickly through the underbrush as if it were trying to escape something. Escape what? Looking behind, faltering to see the log come across its legs, the figure cried out, startled, as it face-planted the murky leaves of the forest floor. Upon impact with the ground, the serrated, blood-stained knife was flung from its tightened grasp. Immediately, it sprawled to clutch it again, fumbling quickly to a stand, not bothering to brush the dirt and debris from the wrinkled, dampened robe. But then it paused, eyeing a faint, orange light twenty meters ahead.

"H-Hello?!" it called out. It was a man. "Is someone there? Please! I need help!" It began to start for the fire with utmost caution.

In the distance, another crash of thunder erupted across the sky, followed by a streak of lightning. Soon thereafter, it began to drizzle.

[oxygen]

Hadrian and Chien displayed similar expressions (as similar as man and dog can be): dismay.

Moments before the man in the woods appeared, the sky opened and the clouds above, following in the sun's miserable footsteps, let loose the precursor of the storm to come. Lightning popped and cracked, thunder subsequently roaring. Little by little the light rain smothered Hadrian's fire, leaving faint embers and a smoking corpse of ash and charcoal; the traveler was less than amused as he stared at the body of his work, ruined. Another sharp crack of lightning told Hadrian that he would soon be hard pressed to find shelter.

As he rose to his feet, a voice from the woodline called out: "Please! I need help!"

Chien let out a noise of moot interest and Hadrian lazily rested upon his ranseur, using it as a crutch; neither seemed startled or shaken, let alone eager to rush to the aid of a stranger. The heat had sapped more motivation than he had previously estimated; even the dog seemed annoyed. Instead they simply stood and waited for the inevitable arrival of the "running man" (Hadrian had named him this in attempt to illicit a chuckle, though with little luck).

"With what?" Hadrian started, "Want to elaborate, friend?"

[_ascension]

"That thing!" the man mumbled, now close enough to be seen. With a trembling hand he pointed back toward the darkness of the woods from which he had emerged. "It's chasing me! It-It got me!" with that, the man collapsed on his back in a cry, a heavy thud following impact. The hood was knocked from his head, showing evident signs of having an assailant. Blood trickled from his nose like crimson threads, a piece of his ear had been apparently ripped off, along with various bruises along his jaw and neck. The man was young, as well, perhaps early twenties. Save for the brutalities, his physical features would have been quite flawless. Now, he dared not to stand, and just gasped in wide-eyed terror, the knife still clasped in his left, bleeding and scratched knuckles.

"It's..." he gasped, "it's been chasing me all day. It'll surely come here soon. I don't know how far back it is. I..." his ice-blue eyes rolled into the back of his head as he coughed. Dehydration was taking evident toll on him from the constant running for hours on end. Though as he coughed, blood began to trickle from the corners of his lips, rolling down the sides of his mouth and collecting in the crevice of his chin; an evident sign of internal bleeding. "You must help me," the guy murmured half-conscious. "She's going to kill me."

Another crash of thunder; another bolt of lightning. The rain became to come down hard, while the fire went out with a series of sizzles, followed by a cloud of billowing smoke.

[oxygen]

The traveler displayed a series of expression, though they all derived themselves from confusion and bewilderment; Hadrian leaned in, brow half-cocked in moot interest. He had not seen anyone in days, and to be greeted in such a wild way with another human life left him speechless and taken aback. However, he was not without empathy: reaching into his pack, Hadrian tossed the man a waterskin (it was warm, but it was water).

"I'm going to be up front with you; you seem like a reputable individual, and I can tell that we're going to see eye to eye on politics and our favorite colors and the like, but I've not a damn clue as to what you're talking about," Hadrian's voice was full of dry sarcasm and exhaustion, "Now, slow down, drink some water - go ahead, drink some - and explain, slowly, what you're talking about. What is this thing? Why is it chasing you? Who is she?"

Chien barked once and circled Hadrian's feet, dropping to his belly; Hadrian wanted to do the same, and the lance that supported his weight was all that kept him collapsing into a ball of sleep. The heat of the day was not conducive to compassion or fruitful conversation. He just wanted to be left alone, but this man seemed to be in some sort of trouble, and so Hadrian drew what little feeling he could and continued:

"If it got you, how are you here? You look more like you were stoned rather than mauled, friend."

[_ascension]

The man guzzled the water while enduring Hadrian's inquisitions. Finally having enough and letting his arm drop with the jug, he took large breaths before he would elaborate. "I... I come from the Monastery westward, near Chrysa. Two days ago she came... I," he stopped, gasping for breath. "I don't know who she is. During session she just marched through the front doors and began to slay. But..." He stopped then, propping himself up and against a tree. His eyes looked ahead of him, almost obliviously, as if there were some great spectacle beyond where he was, his expression drenched with confusion. "She would walk past one monk, but slay another. As if sizing them up; as if there were certain qualifications needed in order to bludgeon. And then...and then she saw me. I ran as fast as I could, away, but she's been chasing me ever since. She caught up to me a day ago, beat me to near death, but then tossed my body aside and like some toy, let me run off again..." the man wheezed, grimacing from the pain of his wounds. "She's playing with me!"

If the men would notice, the nocturnal wildlife would cease their noises. Now, the only thing that made any sound was the rain spattering against the murky forest foundation, however, even this too began to let up to a slight drizzle, leaving the party in an eerie, irregular silence. The beaten man's eyes grew fearful again, and his slouched figure looked all ways. "This is what happens when she's coming!" he croaked in terror. "It grows quiet! I tell you she is the Devil! Do yourself a favor and run!"

The forest had become even darker. A slight pressure on the atmosphere, like one before a dreadful storm rested heavy on their breaths. And, to their amazement, the fire suddenly began again. Subsequently, a twig snapped somewhere nearby; though its echo obscured the exact location.

[oxygen]

Lazily, Hadrian brushed a few strands of hair from his face. He wanted to exert as little energy as possible; he was already tired. Perhaps the man would soon drift off to sleep himself and Hadrian could follow suit. Sleep was more inviting than the tale of an evil woman with an aversion to monks and the religious. Thankfully he was neither; perhaps she would leave him be.

"Truth be told, and I mean you no offense, but I don't even know the first thing about you. As far as I know, this woman is doing the world a favor." The exhaustion was talking; Hadrian simply opened his mouth, and the words spilled forth, "You could be an evil church, or maybe you're demon worshippers. Or maybe I'm actually asleep, and this is a dream - oh, what a turn of luck that would be."

Then the silence came. Subtle at first - the crickets stopped, and then the thunder. Soon the eerie quiet became unbearable, and Hadrian's ears began to ring. A twig snapped. Without moving, Hadrian's eyes darted from left to right; for a lazy traveler, his pursuit was fervent (even if it was only with his eyes). His body still rested lazily upon the shaft of his ranseur, but he grew silent and still.

"Is someone there?" his voice, however, changed very little; he spoke in a muffled way, chin pressed against folded arms, but with ample volume, "Your friend here says you're quite amicable; perhaps we can share stories and sing songs." What Hadrian lacked in physical energy he made up in sarcasm and dry humor, "How about you come out and we can just straighten all of this up?"

He straightened himself with a sigh, knuckles blanched and tight around the lance, "I'm not in the mood for this tonight; it's hot, and I'm tired. Unless you're the hag from Eastdown come to tell me that I should have go south instead of northeast, then I really would rather this just not happen right now."

[_ascension]

From the other side of the underbrush, the one opposite in which the mysterious monk had stumbled through, came another shadowed figure. Not in the direct incandescence of the fire, it was a mere outline; one that was evidently much smaller than either of the two men present. It had taken several steps into the small clearing, though paused in a distance long enough for all physical features to be obscured from their sight. The mysterious apparition matched the silence of the their surroundings; not even a single breeze whisked their way.

"It's her!" the man exclaimed at first in dreaded fear, but suddenly his moans transcended into laughter. Manic laughter erupted in a chilling baritone, his once cerulean eyes beginning to fuse to burning coals. Hadrian would watch the shadowed figure's head tilt slightly to his direction. "Move on," the voice was precisely female. Her voice was strong, arrogant.

"No!" The man said after finishing his laugh. Now, he stood as if no apparent wounds had blemished his body whatsoever. "Allow the curiosity of what she is hold you in place, Hadrian. She won't kill in front of an innocent." A chuckle came thereafter. "Isn't that so, Justice?"

She didn't humor the demon. "Move on. I'm warning you." The crackle of the fire shot a brilliance of luminescence, revealing only a second's feature of the woman's face; most particularly her phosphorescent, argent irises. They blazed at the young warrior in evident aggravation. The sudden sound of metal grinding was heard as she unsheathed a scimitar from within her coat. Holding it at her side, the woman remained in place, patient still.

Another fit of laughter erupted from the Monk, who now undoubtedly appeared to be not a monk at all. "You should stay, young warrior," its voice was hollow, though its hominid features remained. The blemishes, however, had all but vaporized from its porcelain-perfect skin. "Stay and witness the one thing man has no true idea about."

[oxygen]

Chien whined in disapproval, hiding behind Hadrian's legs. He had, by now, produced his lance in a threatening manner and had retreated, if only slightly, from the discourse at hand; adrenaline overcame lethargy, and the traveler inched away with purposeful sluggishness. The woman to his right and the once injured man at his left, Chien to his rear, Hadrian halted his retreat and held fast. As the monk spoke his name, Hadrian shifted his attention and gazed fully at the man:

"Now, I could have forgiven the glowing eyes, and I've managed to look over the eerie laughter, but knowing my name is just too much. I do believe that I'm going to befriend the nice lady over you, kind sir," Hadrian's voice and tone changed little; the lethargy and exhaustion remained, audibly at the very least. "Now I'm not quite sure why the two of you are at odds, but I'm quite sure I don't need to be caught in it. I'll just take this back," Hadrian nodded with mock regard toward the monk and scooped up the waterskin which lay close to the woman's feet, "And I'll be on my way. It was lovely to have met you both."

"Stay and witness the one thing man has no true idea about."

Hadrian grimaced and readied his lance; the tone of voice the monk exhibited meant nothing more than what the traveler assumed to be violence and belligerence. He wanted nothing of it, but running would only bring the events here elsewhere.

[_ascension]

The man eyed Hadrian with a whimsical, malicious sneer. "Mortals are so nosy, are they not, Justice?" He said then, while his head maneuvered swiftly to the woman who still remained in place. It happened then, a breeze, which led the flames toward her, once again diminishing the obscurities of her appearance. The black coat she wore clapped once against her booted calves, her hair lofting in ebony threads to the side. Her face remained expressionless. She took two steps forward, raising the scimitar. Her eyes slit to their left corners, eyeing Hadrian and his mutt indifferently.

"You can't blame them, can you?" The demon continued with a subtle shrug. "I mean, this is quite the scenery now, is it not? So what have you then, Justice? Slay me in front of a mortal?"

Her eyes moved to the center, positioned on the Demon. With a lowering of her head, a hesitance in response came. Another scimitar was removed from the other side of her coat, and she began to walk quickly, closing the distance between herself and the man. Horror struck the face of the demon-man-thing, and it began to back up. "Hey!" it snarled, "You can't do this! You're being a hypocrite to your own damned code, you wretched whore!"

"Garumon, lesser Demon of the Fifth Layer" she said, ignoring its protests. "You have been found guilty in violating The Apsularis." Her head remained down, the demon had backed into a tree. "The punishment for this violation is..." Her head shot up, and within a blink of an eye her figure had whirred the last several yards, now directly in front of him. Before the demon could even scream, her blades had sliced his head from the shoulders in a scissor-like maneuver, a scarlet spray emitting from the neck-wound while its head flew ten feet and toward Hadrian. She watched its body slump to the ground, her expression remaining bereft.

"...Death," she finished, resheathing her weapons. The head bounced once, stopped in front of Hadrian. In several seconds, it, along with the rest of the body, erupted into white dust: salt.

The woman bothered not to dust the residue from her leather pants. She only looked down at it for a brief second before slightly turning her head to the young warrior's direction. "You'd do well to heed advice next time," she said coldly. "You've just gotten me into quite a bit of trouble." The last line was exonerated with an aggravated sigh, almost a hiss, before she abruptly turned and started for the underbrush from which she came. She had done her duties, though as erroneous as the resultant event had occurred. With her movement, the rain began again, the the wildlife coming back to life in a thriving of shrill calls.