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Chapter Text

As a young child, Zuala had heard whispers of a girl born with hair the color and sheen of steel, eyes a deep amethyst and skin so white it appeared to glow. She had been born into an ancient lineage of legendary warriors, the last of which had been born several generations past. It was said such warriors wielded an unimaginable power and were known for felling the most dangerous of beasts and enemies. The elders said her birth heralded an age of conquest and bounty for not only their village, but for all their people. Orphan Maker, they called her, prophesying the many that would fall to her blade. It was their duty to prepare for when the child grew into her full power and a call for warriors went out across the land.

Inspired by the legendary tales of these ancient warriors, and for the good of the tribe, Zuala’s parents’ had pledged her for warrior training. To herself, she had promised to become strong enough to earn the honor of fighting alongside this Orphan Maker and protect her.

A few years later, there had been a celebration in honor of the Orphan Maker, for it was time for her to begin more intensive training. Soon she would start traveling to other villages to train with their most experienced warriors. Zuala had been excited to finally catch a glimpse of the prodigal child and had been working on a gift for her for weeks. It was traditional to give more practical gifts, such as weapons and armor, but Zuala wanted to give her something special. Something that no one else would think of.

When it was her family’s turn to present their gifts, Zuala waited for her parents to present the Orphan Maker with theirs and then stepped forward and held out her own gift. Draped across her hand was a woven crown of blue and purple flowers, along with a smaller version for her wrist. It was rare to find such colorful flowers in the wastes of Xhorhaus and it had taken Zuala weeks to find enough of each for the gifts. The Orphan Maker had gasped, her purple eyes lighting up and thanked her.

“What use does the Orphan Maker have for such trivialities,” she heard one of the elders sneer.

“For you to remember your home village, Ophan Maker,” Zuala said, ignoring the elder, and bowed. She felt a small hand on her shoulder and looked up into the eyes of the child before her.

“I will treasure it and think of you and my village in my travels.”

The Orphan Maker pulled her closer in an embrace and whispered in her ear.

“And please, call me Yasha.”

As Zuala was led away, she turned back towards Yasha and saw that she had already slipped on the flower bracelet. Yasha had given her a quick glance and smile before turning to the next person presented to her. Smiling, Zuala followed her parents towards the rest of the festivities.

As Zuala grew older, her training became more intensive and she grew stronger everyday. They had kept Yasha separate from the rest of them for when they weren’t training and she was often away to train with the strongest among their people. When she did train with them, her strength and ruthlessness was something to behold. Their teachers would have them fight her, sometimes to the death. While Zuala noticed no hesitation when dealing the killing blow, she appeared to take no pleasure in doing it. She also noticed that Yasha would heal those she was allowed to spare, even though it was against their teachers wishes.

Several times they had fought each other, practicing the new moves they had learned earlier that day in training. While Yasha could easily out maneuver her, they seemed to be matched in strength, much to the disappointment of their teachers. The Orphan Maker was expected to be the best of all them and would often have her do extra strengthening exercises when she lost. After one particular grueling session, they had taken a break to eat and rest.

“Zuala,” Yasha tentatively asked, “Where do you find your strength?”

Surprised by her question, Zuala took a second to mull it over while she tore into some jerky.

“For me I think it comes from duty and my desire to protect my people,” she answered, “I need to be as strong as possible if I am to protect and fight alongside you.”

“The matriarch says that I am not strong enough yet, that I am too soft, too emotional and that it clouds my thinking in battle.”

Avoiding Zuala’s eyes, Yasha started to tear into the grass, continuing, “My only thoughts should be how best to serve my people. That my only attachments should be of loyalty to the tribe.”

Zuala looked over to Yasha and saw her deep in thought. Reaching her hand out, she took Yasha’s chin and lifted it so she could look her in the eyes.

“What does she know of battle up close? Her power comes from the arcane, she does not know what drives a warrior to battle, what drives them to keep fighting even when mortally injured.”

“And what is that?” Yasha asked as she searched Zuala’s eyes. Her face softening, Zuala placed her other hand on Yasha’s shoulder and drew her nearer.

“When in battle, Yasha, you must use your emotions to strengthen you. Channel them into your sword and let your enemies feel them through the bite of your steel.”

Hearing the sound of footsteps drawing closer, Zuala leaned back and stood up.

“Now Orphan Maker,” Zuala said loudly enough for their teachers to hear, “Let’s see if you remember what you’ve learned.” Holding a hand out to her, Yasha smiled, reached out and took it.

Chapter Text

“Here this way,” Zuala grabbed Yasha’s hand as she led her deeper in the forest that was just outside their village. “I come here to be alone. It’s far enough into the forest that no one dares come out here by themselves, so we won’t have to worry about anyone seeing us.”

Zuala had found this hidden spot when she was young and needed a quiet place for herself, away from the crowds in the village or the prying eyes of her teachers. It was a shaded spot, with a small clearing surrounded by thick bushes. The only way to get through without getting scratched was to climb the tree and drop down. On this side of the bushes, the flowers were in full bloom since no creature could get through the thorny bushes and the tree provided shade from the shining sun.

As they both dropped down into the clearing, Zuala watched as Yasha took a look around them.

“We can train here without anyone watching,” Zuala smiled and continued, “We can beef up those frail arms of yours and work on your weak fighting stance.”

Yasha turned around, her lips already snarling but broke out into a smile when she saw the mischievous look in Zuala’s eyes.

“Big words for such a short woman,” Yasha teased, as she took a defensive stance.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Zuala continued as she raced forward and started to grapple the larger woman.

The women wrestled for what seemed like hours to Zuala. There were times when she was confident that she’d be able to over take Yasha, and there were times she found she had to rely on her rage to get from underneath her. With a grunt, Zuala had pinned her to the forest floor, her legs straddling her waist and her hands holding down her arms. Smiling down at her, she waited as Yasha continued to struggle.

“Use your emotions, let them course through your veins and feel their power,” Zuala whispered as she leaned down and placed her forward against Yasha’s, “What are you feeling.”

Yasha stilled underneath her as she looked into Zuala’s eyes and Zuala could see a slight blush spread across her cheeks. Amused, Zuala moved her closer to Yasha’s ear.

“What do you want,” she whispered, hearing a light intake of breath from Yasha, Zuala paused and lifted her head back up. Keeping her eyes fixed on Yasha’s, Zuala leaned in gave her a soft kiss on her lips. After a moment without feeling a reaction from her, Zuala leaned back and let go of her arms.

“I’m sorry if I-”

Before she could finish her sentence, Yasha bucked her hips causing Zuala to reach out and catch her self. As Yasha grabbed her shoulders, she tilted her hips and now Yasha was on top of her. Surprised, Zuala was about to say something when she leaned down and kissed her deeply. Entangling one of her hands in Yasha’s hair and placing the other on her hip, drawing her closer, Zuala further deepened the kiss.

Needing air, Zuala broke the kiss and looked up into Yasha’s eyes, searching for an answer to a question not needed to be spoken aloud. Yasha smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips as she started to undress her.

As the sun started to sink lower on the horizon, the sounds of their loving making echoed through the forest.

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Over time, their relationship had grown and through their training they had grown stronger. Zuala had become one of the strongest warriors in the village and Yasha’s powers continued to grow. Twice a week they would sneak out of the village to their hidden spot and twice a week they were able to themselves and open up to each other.

“Zuala, do you believe in gods?” Yasha asked one night as they snuggled underneath the stars.

“Why do you ask?” Zuala could feel Yasha start to fiddle with the flowers in her hair. Yasha had taken some of the flowers off of the bushes and had braided them into Zuala’s hair until they covered her dark tresses.

“Well, lately I have been hearing these voices,” she said tentatively, “They want me to follow one of them, but there are several and I don’t know what to do.

Frowning, Zuala started stroking Yasha’s hair.

“Did you ask the matriarch about them?”

“She said they are beings of great power and wisdom and that I will need to choose one as my patron.”

Zuala did not like the idea of yet another person trying to mold Yasha into something she did not want to be. The matriarch wanted her to be a ruthless leader, their teachers a dangerous warrior, their tribe a god in human form that would protect them above all else. No one but her had ever asked her what she had wanted.

“The matriarch says I should choose the one called Galladia, who speaks of slaying enemies and vengefulness,” Yasha said quietly.

“But who do you want to choose, my love,” Zuala whispered back. She could feel Yasha’s lips against her chest curl into a smile.

“There is one called Myllandra, her voice is soft and her words are kind.”

“I think you have your answer then,”Zuala said, “Besides, the matriarch cannot hear them so you could lie and say you chose Galladia.”

“I guess,” Yasha yawned, “You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Have you heard of the Stormlord?” Zuala asked. Feeling Yasha shake her head she continued.

“As his name would suggest he is the god of storms, but also of battle and warfare. It is said that thunder the sound of his large great sword striking his enemies and the rain their split lifeblood. My parents say I have touch of him, see my blue eyes? They are like the Stormlord’s and means I will be favored in my battles, which is why I beat you in our grapples.”

Yasha lightly slapped her arms, “Stop teasing and tell me more about him. The sound of your voice is soothing.”

Smiling, Zuala gave her a kiss on the head and continued.

“He as three main tenants. First is that there is bravery above all, for there is no glory in cowardice. Second is that strength is our path to achieve greatness, but we must be responsible in how we use this strength. Finally, we give must give glory to the Stormlord through our victories on the battlefield. It is how we best honor him.”

“I don’t think I’d make a good follower of the Stormlord,” Yasha whispered, “I am afraid of many things.”

“Fear is different than cowardice. There are many things I am afraid of as well, do you think me a coward?” Again, she felt Yasha’s head shake against her chest. “I am brave because I do things in spite of fear, not because I do not feel it. If I forsake what I stand for, what I care for, because of fear that is cowardice and there is no honor in that.”

“You have given me much to think on,” Yasha yawned.

“Shhh, sleep now my love,” Zuala kissed her forehead and held her tighter, “We have a few more hours until we should get back. I’ll keep watch.”

As Zuala looked up at the stars, soon she heard the steady breathing of the woman lying next to her and grinned.

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The elders had sent them, along with several others, on a mission to clear a forest near their village where several beasts had been spotted. It had been quiet as their party had stealthed their way deeper into the forest, with Yasha leading them and Zuala closely behind her. Focusing on where to place her feet, Zuala nearly jumped when the loud croak of a dying toad rang out through the forest. Freezing, Zuala looked up and saw that Yasha was the one who gave away their position and had stepped on the creature. As she listened to the forest around her, she was about to whisper that she thought it was safe, when the knolls attacked from all sides.

As the battle began, Zuala took her customary position with her back to Yasha and fought off any that dared get within her sword’s range. While they were outnumbered, it seemed that the knolls were outmatched and soon several lay at her feet. She was about to make a comment about their laughable ambush attempt, when she turned back and noticed that Yasha was now far away from the party. In fact she was too far and it seemed she was fighting two knolls that had managed to flank her.

Zuala’s lip curled into a sneer and she could feel her rage bubbling up inside her. Yelling her war cry, Zuala was about to run towards Yasha when she felt a sharp pain pierced her back, causing her to stumble a few feet forward. Looking down, she saw the tip of a sword poke through her chest. Growling she turned quickly, ignoring the pain as the sword impaling her was yanked out of the hands of her attacker, and with one swing of her great sword she took the head off the knoll behind her.

Taking a few stumbling steps back, she reached back towards the sword in back and pulled it out, slicing open her hand in the process. She turned to look at Yasha and started to take a tentative step forward before crumbling to the ground.

As Zuala tried to catch her breath, she heard an otherworldly screech fill the forest around her. It was filled with such pain, with such rage but it was also familiar. This was followed by the sounds of something metal striking flesh and bone, a few quick yelps, and soon Zuala was staring up into the familiar purple eyes, haloed by the locks of sterling silver hair of Yasha. She thought she could see golden feathered wings behind her.

Smiling, Zuala reached up cupped her cheek, “It seems you have found your strength.” Returning her smile, Yasha held her hand against her face and placed the other over her wound. Zuala could feel a radiating warmth from the hand and a few drops of something wet fall on her face before she passed out.

Chapter Text

With a sharp gasp, Zuala woke up on a cot and looked around. Finding herself in the healing tent and sensing no immediate danger, she pushed herself up and placed a hand on her chest, feeling the rough bandages wrapped around her ribs.

“You are lucky you are so close to the Orphan Maker, Zuala,” said the healer at the foot of her bed. As he watched her unwrap the bandages he continued, “She healed your wound. There may not even be a scar.”

Looking down, Zuala saw the faint line of a scar where the sword had gone through her chest and lightly traced it. “Where is she?”

“She is with the matriarch and the elders, with her new found strength and powers it is time for her to choose a mate.”

Zuala’s blood ran ice cold, while it wasn’t unusual for arranged marriages to be given to strong warriors, she had thought that with Yasha’s status they would let her choose her mate. As the healer got up to leave, Zuala gave her a nod and quickly put on her equipment and left. Spotting the matriarch's hut, she noticed that several guards were placed outside, some of which looked like they came from a neighboring tribe. She strode up to them and made to go to open the door.

“Halt!” one of the guards yelled, “What do you need? The matriarch is busy this afternoon.”

“I am Zuala, one of the Orphan Maker’s personal guards. I know she is in there, let me in.” She demanded, giving them an icy glare.

“Sorry, but we are under orders no one is to disrupt the negotiations.” the guard countered, gripping the hilt of his sword more tightly.

Resigning herself to the situation, Zuala took a deep breath. “Very well, tell the Orphan Maker to meet me when she is able. Her training should not be interrupted.”

Before the guard could respond she left and headed to their hidden spot. She waited there most of the morning, but when the sun was the highest in the sky she could hear the familiar heavy footfalls of her lover. As soon as Yasha landed inside the clearing, Zuala ran up and embraced her, but Yasha was rigid in her arms. Confused, Zuala leaned back and saw the sullen expression on her face.

“They have arranged for me to marry the warrior from another tribe,” Yasha whispered, “The matriarch said it will provide us with more land and more warriors for the wars to come.”

“But you are the Orphan Maker,” Zuala reached up to cup her face, “Surely your status allows you to choose who you want? Who you love?” Zuala could see Yasha’s eyes water as she shook her head.

“They said it is my duty, for the good of the tribe.” The tears started flowing freely down her face. Brushing them away with her finger, Zuala brought her close to her chest and held her.

“But it is not for your good, you have given these people so much, do not let them take your heart,” Zuala whispered into her hair.

“They cannot take my heart, because you have it,” Yasha whispered back. Zuala closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“In another life, you would have been my mate and we would never be apart for the rest of our days.” Zuala held her tighter, feeling her own tears start to make their way down her face. “I will always protect you, with my life. Even though you will be pledged to another, I will take no other as a mate.”

“You could marry me Zuala,” Yasha said, leaning back and brushing some of the tears off her face, “Besides, what if they promise you to someone else?”

“It is forbidden to break the arrangement, my love, and I will take no other,” Zuala held her eye, “I would rather die.” Zuala saw Yasha’s eyes widened then narrowed, she could see a growing anger in her amethyst eyes and Zuala’s chest swelled with pride.

“You cannot die, I will not allow them to hurt you,” Yasha growled, “They would not dare harm the Orphan Maker’s wife.”

“Is that a proposal?” Zuala asked, her lip curling into a smile.

“It is a promise,” said Yasha, breaking their grasp as she rummaged through her rucksack and pulled out a book. Opening it, Zuala saw most of the pages were blank but at the front was a familiar dried woven flower bracelet - the very one she had given her those many years ago. Yasha broke off one of the dried flowers and tore some of the larger grass that surrounded them and started to weave them together into a ring. Holding it out to her, Zuala took it, all words were lost to her.

“If we marry now, before the arrangements are settled they will not be able to say anything,” Yasha continued as she waited for Zuala’s response. Looking up, Zuala smiled and threw her hands around Yasha’s neck, kissing her deeply before pushing back.

“Shall we start the rite?” Grinning, Yasha nodded. As the two began the rites of marriage, they took their vows under their tree and before the eyes of the Stormlord and Myllandria. Both were so enrapt with the other, that neither noticed the presence of another just behind the barrier of the thorny bushes, watching and waiting.

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Hours later, they were making their way back to the village, still giddy in their new matrimonial bliss.

“So what else is in that book you have?” Zuala asked, “The one with the bracelet I gave you.”

“It is my collection of flowers from my travels,” Yasha answered, “Everytime I see a new one, I add it to my book.”

Smiling to herself, Zuala gave a light laugh, “We are mates and I am just learning this about you now. I cannot wait to see what else I will learn in our life together.”

“Only this time, it will be OUR travels,” said Yasha, “We can go and find more flowers. Together.”

As they entered the village, they saw a growing number of people gathered at its center. Curious, the two made their way through the crowd trying to find what the commotion was about.

“And speaking of, there they are. See how she has bewitched the Orphan Maker?”

One of their teachers shouted, the elders and the matriarch gathered around him. Soon, all eyes were on them. With a snarl, Zuala placed herself between Yasha and them.

“We are mated,” Zuala shouted towards them, “You’d harm the Orphan Maker’s wife?”

“She has been promised to another,” the matriarch said through gritted teeth, “Besides, you have not taken the rite before the village or myself. It cannot be valid.”

“It was before the Stormlord,” Yasha sneered, “It was valid enough and we have accepted marriages like this before.”

“A foreign god,” the matriarch spat, “But you are right, it is a valid marriage in some eyes.”

Zuala shifted her weight. She was getting nervous with the number of guards present and the tone in which the matriarch was speaking.

“It is a valid marriage,” the matriarch continued, “Until one of you dies. Guards, seize them!”

As the words left the matriarch's lips, Zuala grabbed Yasha’s hand and pulled her back in the direction they came from. They both tried to break through the crowd but there were too many people. In frustration, Zuala unsheathed her greatsword as they ran, prompting the crowd to part for them. However the guards had circled behind them and were blocking their path to freedom. Enraged, both Zuala and Yasha rushed forward and started attacking the guards. Despite their strength and skill, the two were starting to get overwhelmed as more and more guards joined the fray. Taking a quick scan over the scene, Zuala knew they would not be able to hold them off forever. Spotting an opening, Zuala sunk her blade through the middle of one of the guards and kicked him to the side. Grabbing onto Yasha’s arm, she threw her towards the now vacant spot.

“Go!” Zuala shouted at Yasha, giving her a quick shove. Diving out of the way of grasping arms and swinging swords, Yasha broke through and kept running with Zuala behind her, fighting off the guards. Zuala glanced back and saw Yasha had started to slow down, as if she were to turn back to aide her.

“Keep going! Don’t let them catch you!” Zuala shouted as she continued to fiend off her attackers. However there were too many and she was starting to tire. She was about to shout something out towards Yasha when a familiar piercing pain wracked through her body. Looking down, she saw she had been impaled on a greatsword, her haggard face was mirrored back at her in the gleaming metal. Through the grime and blood on the sword, she could just make out the darkening clouds above her. As the sword sunk deeper into her chest, she clenched her teeth and tried to grab onto the sword. In the distance she swore she could hear the distant rumble of thunder. At the sound, her lips curled into a smile and she opened her eyes.

Protect her, Stormlord, she thought. And with a yell she swung her greatsword and took the head off of the guard in front of her. With a grunt, she pulled the sword from her body and used it to hit the guards to her left and right. Channeling her rage, she swung her weapon at anyone who dared come near. As the rain started pouring down, she could feel her body begin to betray her. Her arms were tiring. Her breath, ragged. In the distance, she thought she heard Yasha scream her name, followed by a clap of thunder. Her beloved must be protected. She must honor the pact she made to herself as a young girl. Yasha could not follow her own fate.

“Run, Yasha! Run! Ru-”

Zuala hadn’t blocked the blow in time and the sword had plunged deeply into the crook of her neck. Falling backwards, the sword dislodged and clanged on the ground next to her. She could feel her strength leaving her and as she looked back towards Yasha, she saw her running away through the woods with a few guards trailing behind her. Smiling, Zuala watched her leave until another piercing pain hit her squarely in the chest and she knew no more.

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Once Yasha had escaped the center of the cluster of guards, she had continued to run until she noticed Zuala was not behind her. Turning back, she saw that Zuala was fighting them off, but there were too many. She was about to run back when Zuala turned around and shouted at her.

"Keep going! Don’t let them catch you!”

Yasha watched as more and more guards started spilling out from the surrounding streets. She knew there was no way they would be able to fight them all off. They would be captured. They would kill Zuala, and make her watch. Like lightning, she felt a pang of fear shoot down her spine. She couldn’t watch as her love was murdered before her eyes. And if she stayed, that is exactly what would happen. This is her greatest fear, Yasha realized, to watch the one loves dying to protect her. Trembling, she took a step backward. She had to fight back, she should fight back. But instead, she took another step back. Then another. And another.

With tears in her eyes, Yasha turned on her heel and started running towards the forest. Her only option was to try and lose them. She could hear Zuala shouting until suddenly she couldn’t. Trying to hold back a sob, Yasha ran through the trees, ducking out of the way of branches and vaulting over bushes. She could feel the tears - or was that rain?- trailing down her face and she absentmindedly brushed them away. Turning back, she could barely make out the guards behind her through the now heavy rainfall and soon she wasn’t able to see or hear them at all. As stealthily as she could, she slowly made her way to the hidden spot and dropped down into the clearing looking around. She had hoped against hope that somehow Zuala had escaped and was waiting for her, but there was nothing. Trying to take some refuge from the rain, Yasha sat down under the tree and listened and waited for the familiar heavy footfalls to catch her ears. As the rain continued to pour, Yasha fell asleep to the sound of the rain pattering on the ground and to the rolling of thunder across the sky.

Upon waking, Yasha sat up and looked around, but not spotting Zuala anywhere she leaned back against the tree and sighed. She needed to keep moving, sooner or later her tribe would find her. Even if she wanted more than anything to take away the pain that Zuala’s life left, she must live for her, for her beloved. Her last act in this world was to protect her, and Yasha would not disgrace her wife by making her sacrifice meaningless. She would live - for her. Almost mechanically Yasha tookstock of her wounds, while numerous, none of them were immediately life threatening. With a grunt, she jumped up and grasped the lowest branch on the tree and started making her way out of the clearing. Landing on the other side, she found she had three options for her path.

To her left was her tribe, which she knew she could never return to, and so she could either go straight ahead or to the right.

Pausing, Yasha took one last look to the left and then made her way towards the right.

And Yasha wandered.

And wandered.

And wandered.

She wanted to wander far enough away until she was no longer reminded of Zuala. However, every tree, every bush, every flower reminded her of her beloved. She remembered all the times they had climbed the tree into their hidden spot. She remembered the bushes that had guarded them from the outside world. She remembered the flowers in Zuala’s ebon hair and the flower that had been wrapped around her finger, if only briefly. Unsure of how much time had passed, Yasha found herself wandering in a desert. She wasn’t sure the last time she ate or drank something. The first few days, the voice of Myllandria had called to her, but she ignored the being’s pleas. What good was a patron who couldn’t help her defend the ones she loved? Yasha hadn’t spoken since that day, but she could feel how parched her throat was and the cracks in her lips. She was on top of one of the largest sand dunes and looked out.

There were no trees, no bushes and no flowers.

Falling to her knees, Yasha let out a growl that started in the pit of her stomach and grew as it was pushed through aching pain where her heart was. The pain seemed to amplify it and with tears in her eyes, she released an ear splitting, rage filled scream that rang out through the desert. It was so loud and painful, Yasha could feel it tear her throat but the pain was dwarfed by the growing ache in her heart. As it ended, she fell forward and grasped at the sand in front of her, breathing heavily. The tears continued to fall down her face as she silently tried to will herself into being swallowed by the sand. The pain in her heart was too great and she knew the only way it would stop was for either Zuala to wrap her in her arms and tell her she was ok or for the sweet release that death promised. Twice now, she failed her wife. First to protect her and now in honoring her sacrifice. As Yasha closed her eyes, she let herself fall into the sand and let its warmth encompass her and waited for the wind to push the sand over her.

“I can promise you revenge,” a small voice in her mind whispered.

Frowning, she didn’t recognize this one. Her patron had been unusually quiet as of late, but this one sounded male.

“If you let me, I can take the pain away, just give in.” it whispered, “Give in to me.”

Yasha could feel something nudge at the edges of consciousness. No more pain, she thought. “Zuala,” she whispered as she let whatever being into her mind and then she knew no more.

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A clap of thunder woke Zuala, glancing around all she saw were storm clouds. Looking forward, she saw lightning illuminate a large shadowed figure behind the clouds.

“Stormlord?” She called out. Only the sound of thunder answered her.

“What of Yasha?”

Looking up into the clouds there was no answer. A bit of movement by her feet caught her eye and she saw the clouds form into a stand with a basin on top of it. As the clouds at its center cleared, she saw a vision of Yasha laying in the desert. A red demon sat beside her and Zuala could see Yasha’s eyes snap open and briefly glow red, before something bright was seared into the back of her neck. As she stood up, she saw the demon lead her to a group of people before the clouds consumed the center of the basin again.

“What has happened, what did he do to her?” She asked.

“Her mind has been chained,” a booming voice responded.

The clouds at the basin cleared again and what Zuala saw terrified her. She saw Yasha cut down soldiers, men and women alike, no longer recognizing the expression on the face of her beloved she looked away. The scene darkened to black before lightening once more. This time, Zuala recognized their village, but this time it was on fire. Bodies of guards, elders and even the innocent citizens of the town were piled high. She spotted children among the dead, savagely slashed open, a look of fear permanently etched on their faces. Putting a hand to her mouth, Zuala looked away from the bowl, tears streaming down her face.

“Can you do something? Can you help her?” She asked, wiping the tears from her face.

“First, she must help herself,” the voice rumbled, accentuated by a clap of thunder.

“Please, I’ll do anything,” Zuala called out but the basin had disappeared and the clouds in front of her were starting to recede. Through the flashes of thunder she could just make out the large shadowy figure walking away from her. Growling, Zuala reached for her sword and found it still strapped behind her. Unsheathing it, she held it above her head and angrily called out to the god.

“Coward! If you do not help her, I will fight you myself and take your mantle,” she shouted as she started running towards the elder god, “If that is what it takes to help her so be it.”

As she neared the clouds, thunder and lightning grew more frequent. The wind started blowing against her, almost pushing her back, but lifting her hand she shielded her face and continued forward. Another clap of thunder and Zuala looked up, the looming shadowy figure behind the clouds stood hundreds of feet tall - and was almost in front of her. Snarling, Zuala raised her sword to strike at the god when a large bolt of lightning struck her. Then another and another and another, forcing her to one knee, but still raising her weapon. Gritting her teeth, with every bolt of lightning and burning pain wracked through her whole body. She knew she was outmatched, but if this was the only way to help Yasha she would gladly suffer it.

Baring her teeth, Zuala shakily stood up and let the tip of her sword drag behind her as she took another step forward. Glaring up at the Stormlord, she continued forward despite the barrage of lightning bolts. As she neared, she once again raised her weapon and just as she was about to strike an ear piercing thunder clap rang out and a gust of wind blew her back. Looking up, she saw the figure of a man before her. He was heavily muscled, with a greying beard that went to the middle of his chest and familiar set of bracers and a long thick great sword slung across his back.

“Help her,” she demanded through gritted teeth. The Stormlord stared right into her eyes for what seemed like eons.

“And this warrior, your beloved, you would attempt to kill your god for her?” he asked, his eyes still on her face.

“Yes.”

His eyes looked outward and he seemed to ponder her for a moment.

“So be it,” and with a nod and a clap of thunder she found herself in one of his temples.

Looking down, she saw that her form was semi-translucent. Tentatively, she tried to put her hand through a column and gasped when it went through. Glancing around, she saw that she recognized the temple. It was a few days' journey from their village and she had been there often. However, the candles were out and no one was inside. Quietly, she walked to the door of the temple and peaked out and gasped. She saw Yasha, and for a moment, a wave of happiness went through her, before she recognized the red demon to her right and glared. Before she could do anything, Yasha had turned towards her and stopped in her tracks. The demon seemed confused and was muttering something to her, but it appeared Yasha wasn’t paying attention.

“Follow me,” Zuala whispered and held her hand out.

It took a moment, but Yasha took one tentative step forward. Then another and another. The demon had tried grabbing onto her arm, but she shrugged him off. Rolling his eyes, he waved for the other members of their party to continue forward as they walked off. Turning, Zuala walked further into the temple and sat upon the altar. Soon she heard the familiar heavy footfalls of her beloved and watched her walk through the temple. Yasha was now in the center when she paused and looked up at the towering statue of the Stormlord.

“Yasha, it’s me,” Zuala whispered, “Your wife.”

Yasha’s eyes flashed to her and she unsheathed her weapon. Growling, Yasha ran up to the altar and took a swipe at Zuala, her sword passing through her and scraping on the stone statue behind her. An etheryl voice seemed to come from Yasha and whispered her name, Zuala. But her mouth didn’t move. Smiling, Zuala knew her beloved was still there, underneath the demon’s spell.

“Yes my love,” Zuala reached up to cup Yasha’s face and felt her still beneath her fingers, “It’s time to wake up.”

Leaning forward, Zuala kissed her and felt the warmth of her lips. Opening her eyes, she saw Yasha’s eyes briefly flash red before the color appeared to disintegrate into the air, leaving behind the familiar purple. She felt Yasha wrap her arms around her as she broke the kiss and placed her hand on either side of Yasha’s face.

“There they are,” Zuala whispered, looking into her wife’s eyes, as she felt her form start to dissipate, “I will always protect you, my wife, my love. Remember, we are always with you.”

And then lightning struck.

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With a start Yasha woke up. She was leaning over an altar and as she looked up she saw the statue of the Stormlord. Suddenly, there was a piercing pain in her eye and she reached towards it but felt no wound. Looking about, she found a metal plate and went over and picked it up, trying to find the source of the piercing pain. However the reflection in the mirror surface was not one she initially recognized. It looked like her, but her steel silver hair was now a familiar shade of ebon from the roots and faded to her natural color at the tips. And instead of her own two purple eyes looking back at her, she saw one purple and one bright blue one staring back.