The hairs on the back of Story's neck prickled as he breathed in the necrotic, acrid air of Koschei. There were restless dead here that were as aged as the dragon himself - if not older. Malevolence hung in the air here, as thick as the fog that wafted about the cold, gnarled-rooted ground. Bold as they were, his pursuers had followed him into the treeline, having stayed hot on his trail from Kurayo. With the many twists and turns in the dense canopy, however, they would be forced to scatter, giving Story the advantage. These were mere men, after all. Dangerous ones, with the obscure arcane knowledge required to take a being such as him down, but human nonetheless.

Strangely, the pursuit seemed to slow to a halt. Story expected to see stragglers branch off through the obfuscated maze, but none came. He had his back to a tree, and peered around the bend carefully, indigo gaze able to take in every detail with precision in the pitch black. He grasped his sword firmly, arcing it back to swing at whatever fool dared round the corner.

Standing poised to strike for several, agonizingly long moments, he heard it.

Some sort of chanting.

He couldn't make out the words, but he knew it was the order of hunters, and not the voices that had been known to whisper to lost travelers in these woods.
Before the dragon could strain to hear better, a withered hand shot out from the earth, gripping his ankle.
Story grunted, and slashed at the reanimated arm. It was severed with ease, but the hand still held fast, tightening its grip to where it was painful. Stumbling awkwardly, his hair became tangled in low-hanging branches as well at an inopportune moment. One of the curs rounded the trees, running with an axe. Kicking out with his ungripped leg desperately, he sent the man staggering back in time to free himself.

With a sharp growl, Story lunged at the man, following suit while he still found his footing. He struck the blunt of his sword hilt to his nose, and whirled behind him to strike again to the back of his head, sending him to his knees. The blade of the sword was then plunged through the back of the man's neck forcefully, puncturing through his throat into the soft earth beneath him. With an even louder shout, adrenaline pumping, he wrenched at the undead hand latched onto him, tearing at the rotten and dusty sinews until there was scarcely anything left, the animated bones left writhing on the ground in their unlife.

Panting, Story pulled his greatsword from the hunter's lifeless body.

This was a strange Order, indeed. Here he had thought them to be some sort of band of paladins with a skewed sense of justice. He never would have dreamed necromancy was in their repertoire.

Story moved quickly, deeper into the forest as more spots of earth stirred around him, and wisps began to dance about amongst the trees.

Something had rooted itself deep within Dalanesca’s core. It was something much akin to a soft tug, someone gently pulling at her, beckoning her to a specific place. It was a feeling she had felt more than once before, and she knew exactly what attributed to it. Someone was praying to her, seeking her aid and her power. This particular feeling had a tinge of darkness to it, which indicated that the particular prayer was seeking the deadly Reaper over the beautiful Siren. Generally, those prayers to the Reaper came from one of two parties: either it came from someone seeking the extra ability that would allow them to defeat their enemy using the darkest of arts, or it came from someone so aggrieved they were willing to bargain with the devil to get their loved one back.

This feeling, however, was a bit different than those. It seemed, the more she focused, that it came from not one, not two, but from several people - most likely a coven of sorts. This piqued her curiosity. She concentrated even further on the prayer until she pinpointed its origin, which fell in Parvpora. This, unfortunately, did not pique her interest quite as much. In general, she avoided Parvpora. She was still powerful there, more powerful than mortals, but not nearly as much as she was in Canelux.

She weighed her options. On one hand, she could remain in Luxuria Mortiferum and ignore the summoning. She would not have to step foot in Parvpora, and wouldn’t lose any of her power. On the other hand, when a group of people prayed to her over just an individual, it usually led to rather interesting happenings. The initial curiosity won out in the end, and soon Dalanesca found herself on the edges of the Koschei Forest outside of Kurayo.

It didn’t take her long to determine the direction in which the prayer if one could call it such, had been coming from, and without hesitation, she made her way deeper into the forest, following the feeling. After only a few moments of wandering, she could begin to make out the faintest sounds of chanting from further into the forest, and the Reaper stopped dead in her tracks. That was no prayer that she had been hearing - no, it was the incantations of a group making an attempt to channel her energy to strengthen their necromantic spells. This brought an immediate frown to her painted lips. As the Goddess of Death, Dalanesca was a firm believer that what was dead must remain dead, unless she decided otherwise, of course. A move so brash as to seek her aid in the resurrection of the dead left a bad taste in her mouth, and she set her course directly for where those who dared such a bold attempt were located.

She made her way through the darkness, through the branches and brambles and the strange things that inhabited the darkness. Something of familiarity seemed to be in the air, but that fell from her mind as she heard a stumbling behind her. Turning herself around, she faced what appeared to be a reanimated corpse. It began to advance towards her, however, it seemed to sense her aura, and suddenly became frozen in mid-step, no longer animated. It fell to the side, her will of course much stronger than that of the necromancers that had apparently resurrected it. With a smirk, please at how that had transpired, she turned around and continued on her path.

The sense of familiarity grew stronger, and as she walked she passed what appeared to be a severed yet reanimated hand, wriggling about the ground, almost as though it were attempting to drag itself by digging its fingers into the earth. She raised her eyebrows for a moment, wondering just what sort of mischief this group was up to.

She continued moving forward, rounding a corner - and there in front of her stood a man. The sense of familiarity overwhelmed her, and it was then that she realized just what it was that she had been sensing since she had stepped foot into the forest. Though, perhaps it was the forest playing tricks on her - if the magic there had been powerful enough, she was weakened enough while in Parvpora where strong magic would be able to fool her, albeit briefly - though she was thoroughly convinced that this man who seemed to be hurriedly making his way deeper into the forest was none other than Story, and she was going to find out for sure.

”Didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said, her voice wavering slightly, though she masked her apprehension behind a shroud of sarcasm and apathy. A hint of panic crossed her mind - surely he was not there to cohort with those attempting necromancy? No, she could not picture such a thing. Perhaps they were after him - after all, he had hinted in the past that he was not necessarily a well liked man by some. Perhaps it was a cruel trick of fate that she would be summoned to aid in the destruction of a man she had loved - not that she would appease them. The world seemed to have a way of pushing things together in the most uncanny of ways.

When the all-too-familiar voice filtered through the trees behind him, Story had another of the hunters in the grasp of some sickly, arcane light emanating from his hand. The man fell to his knees, scarcely able to utter a sound as his essence was drained with the foul magic, and in moments, had fallen on his back, writhing. The disdain that the dragon held in his softly glowing indigo gaze did not waver as he turned to the source of the voice. He moved in erratic bursts of speed, shrouded by the amorphous dark energy that created him. It was amorphous, moving over his form this way or that, and occasionally taking shape, hinting at the creature that lay beneath the human flesh.

"So…the great Wheels have turned once again. History has repeated itself." he intoned vaguely, while unceremoniously thrusting his sword into the rotted earth at his side. Though his demeanor was expected to be different in such a state - manic, running like a hunted animal…but there was something else, as well. Something imperceptible.
"I didn't expect to lose you, as well, but no matter. None of my kind were born for love in the first place."
Story paced about cautiously, looking for any more opposition coming through the trees. He continued, whether the Goddess had something to say to the previous statement in that moment or not. "Not even once did you seek me out. I found you. Through other eyes speaking to my mind, deep in that cursed cathedral. How long I was there, I've lost track. I didn't like what I saw, but I left you well enough alone, seeing as you'd moved on."

Laughing bitterly, Story gestured around them. "Things are as they should be now, mon cher. The world now knows such a blasphemous beast still exists," he mused, rather magnanimously about his situation.

"Are you here to intervene then as well? Prevent me from taking up my mantle as judge, jury, and executioner? It is in your name that these dead have been roused."

The Reaper’s eyes widened ever so slightly as she watched her former lover move towards her in an erratic and non-uniform manner. Something had most certainly changed within him, and from what she could see it was not necessarily for the better. A darkness flowed around him, clearly not of this world, and it pained Dalanesca to see him in such a state – but this pain was not something she would let on, not now, at least. Though she could not place what it was, she could sense that there was something unnatural within him, and she was not sure she wanted to find out what that thing was.

”Indeed, history will always repeat itself,” she said, quietly and with as little emotion as she could muster. She opened her mouth in response to his next statement, but snapped it shut as he continued on with little regard to whether or not she had any comment. She brought one hand to rest on her chin, covering her mouth slightly as he continued on. In most situations, wouldn’t have cared in the slightest about his comments – but there was something jarring about hearing such cold words come from a mouth that once spoke loving whispers to her.

When he had finished his commentary, Dalanesca finally spoke up. ”You left me once, with no explanation – yet you came back. And then, you leave me again, with no explanation once more – and I am to sit idly by and watch day turn to night, night to day, and back again one thousand times or more, with some foolish lovesick hope that you would return to me again?” she breathed, shaking her head slightly as her hand dropped back down to her side. ”No, I think not. What you see as moving on was merely me continuing to try to exist. My spheres of influence changed, and with that so did my needs – an invisible memory could not fulfil those,” she added. ”And perhaps your kind are not born for love because you choose to carry a heart of stone, and place needless blame on others,” she said, the hurt in her voice beginning to show. ”I loved you, Story. In fact, I love you still – that love will never die. Had I known you would return, of course I would have waited for you – I would have waited for you for a century, a millennium or more – but in the whispers of the underworld, and all over Revaliir – no mention of you, none whatsoever. I imagined that you had found your way back to that place – what did you call it? It does not matter – not anymore,” she said. A single tear rolled down her cheek, and she drew a deep breath, falling silent.

A sharp laugh rang out at his final statement. ”No, I am afraid that I must disappoint you there. I am not affiliated with these mongrels,” she said, her voice back to its stoic and cold state, though the pain remained in her eyes. ”Were it to come to that, I would fulfil that on my own,” she said quietly. ”I give no sanction to these blasphemers, to those who invoke my name in wrongful ceremony,” she hissed. ”In my eyes, I punish necromancy with death unless those who practice it have sought me out beforehand,” she continued. ”I came here to find them and put a stop to it.” She placed her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one foot. ”It seems that you do not feel a necessity for me, however,” she added. ”I am glad to take my leave, if you would like to deal with them on your own. That is entirely up to you.”

Midst the swirling dark chaos surrounding him, Story's gaze softened as Dalanesca spoke; though the storm did not abate. His weight shifted forward with the empathetic urge to embrace the Goddess, but he paused.
"No amount of expression of regret could change things, I know," Story intoned, the depth of his voice, though hushed, carrying easily in the deathly silence. Either the hunters were regrouping, or they had given up altogether on their assault - perhaps due to the presence of Death herself. "Though what was done had to be done, I am not heartless. There wasn't a moment that went by that I wished I could have remained at your side."

Story inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and focusing to gain his composure. Gradually, the dark energy that blurred the line between man and beast subsided, seeming to warp, collapse, and absorb back into his body. "I never blamed you for anything, mon amour. I cannot help but feel bitter…It's…only human." he paused, lightly chuckling at this notion. "I concede, even if you will not - that I was never what you needed. Even before my absence. Though I don't regret any of it, I believe we were mutually and blindly attempting to fill a void."

Shaking his head, he broke momentarily from his verbal self-flagellation. Whatever had taken root in him seemed to break the stoicism that was so characteristic of the creature. Boundaries within him seemed only conventional now, and obfuscated only momentarily when using his power. The pain was raw and clear in his human features, as was the unbridled fury when he had been engaged in combat.
"I need you more than you could know, and I love you still."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Story rested his chin on his hand thoughtfully. "The whole of the world needs you, I would say. There is more stirring in dark corners than some sibling of mine clutching for power, and esoteric orders righting history's wrongs….no… There is an ominous tension and unease everywhere, I have found. Something is coming. Awakening. Don't tell me you don't feel it as well…?"

The dragon smirked as he turned from her to take up his sword from the earth once more, holding it in a relaxed stance. "The real question would be if you need me at all in this instance. I have been content to make myself scarce, fighting only when needed. Though at this moment we share a common foe."

”I don’t agree with you,” she said very quietly. ”You were exactly what I needed,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. To her, it was ironic - the most powerful being in terms of desire, and she still couldn’t have what she wanted.

It seemingly took every ounce of willpower in Dalanesca’s being not to throw herself into Story’s arms, not that he would have accepted such an action. She found it rather apparent that he was most certainly not the same as he had been when the two had been together, but there was still so much of him that was, in fact, the same, that it drew out every bit of longing she still felt for him. A part of her was glad that he made some of the admissions he had, that he still felt something for her, even if it was something that would never be acted upon.

Silence befell the pair momentarily, and Dalanesca watched him intently as he retrieved his sword from the ground. ”You’re not wrong,” she said, with a slight sigh, choosing not to continue on the path their conversation had taken, much as he had changed it - at least not now. ”There is something coming, indeed. The Voice has given us some instruction, but I am not sure that I wholly agree with it,” she said, though there was something hesitant to her voice.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and it seemed her demeanor shifted along with it. She had mustered up enough emotional strength to put the facade back on, the facade of the sultry and sarcastic goddess, though she had an inkling that Story could see through it clearly. ”While I could think of many things I would need you for,” she said, pausing as though for effect as her eyes traversed his form up and down before settling on his unique gaze. “It would put my mind at ease knowing I could call for your assistance should I need it,” she said.

”Personally, I think the Voice is making out whatever is coming into something much larger and more formidable than it truly is,” she said, pushing her hair back behind one shoulder and taking a few steps to lean against a nearby tree. ”It’s all doom and gloom with him, not that I should talk,” she said, with a bit of a laugh. ”But if what he says is true… I will need all the help I can get… well, me and the rest of Revaliir,” she added. ”I don’t know exactly what it is I would need of you, as I don’t know exactly what it is we would be facing,” she continued. ”But if I remember, you are well versed in combat… among other things,” she added with a swift, almost unseeable wink. It was back to business as usual for her, though the things she had thought just moments ago still swirled in her mind.