[- Continued From- ]
The castle stood in eerie stillness, its towering spires and parapets stretching toward the pale morning sky, still shrouded in the lingering gloom of the previous night. A sharp wind cut through the air, carrying the scent of damp stone and earth as Khei sat upon one of the highest ledges, the chill seeping through her skin. The remnants of yesterday’s storm clung to the stone beneath her, slick with fading moisture. Below, the world sprawled in vast, untamed beauty—dark forests undulating like restless tides, jagged peaks piercing through the mist, and beyond them, the distant glimmer of the port town of Dabih’r, where this all had begun. It felt impossibly far away, as though it belonged to another lifetime.
Her body ached in ways she could scarcely articulate. Not just from the battle with Qarinah, nor from the brutal toll of transformation and reversion, but from the sheer weight of what had transpired. She could still feel Ulduin's new found strength thrumming just beneath her skin. He had grown more powerful, more unrelenting than ever. And yet, for the first time, she had felt something different—a sliver of control, a fragile thread of agency woven into the chaos. She had seized hold of it, however fleetingly, and steered herself back.
And as much as she loathed to admit it, she owed that to Qarinah.
“...”
Khei clenched her fists, nails pressing deep into her palms until crescents of pain bloomed beneath her skin. The rage from the previous night had cooled into something quieter, more insidious. She had known betrayal before—a pain that never dulled or lost its sting. And Qarinah, for all her supposed wisdom and patience, had forced Khei into a moment she had not consented to.. despite her pleas, despite everything.
That, more than the pain, more than the exhaustion, is what bled her the most.
”..goddamnit.”
Yet her mind kept circling back to what she had seen in the aftermath—fractured glimpses of Qarinah as something more than she had let on. Not the composed, calculating woman who had goaded her into transformation, but something else. Khei remembered Qarinah's body broken, burned, torn, lacerated.. killed.. and yet, Khei also remembered yelling at her when the battle was over. And Qarinah looked as elegant as ever, impossibly alive.
Khei had witnessed enough unnatural phenomena to know better than to call it impossible. She had seen sorcery twist the laws of nature, had survived things no mortal should. But a vampire? The weight of that truth still felt surreal. And yet, as she sat here, alone with the realization, she felt no fear. No anxiety. Just an unshakable frustration.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to unwind the tension coiled in her frame. Qarinah had not lied outright—but she had withheld the truth. And Khei had spent too much of her life being deceived to let that slide without question.
Yet, even now, she couldn’t bring herself to see this place as hostile. She had found sanctuary here, if only for a moment. And Qarinah… Qarinah was still someone she considered a friend. But trust, once tested, was not so easily restored.
And there was a conversation that needed to be had.
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Current Energy Level: 80%
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The Devil You Know
Re: The Devil You Know..
A whisper of movement stirred the air, so subtle it barely registered against the crisp morning stillness. From the threshold of the grand archway, where the light had yet to fully stretch its golden fingers, Qarinah emerged—not stepping into view, but unfurling from the shadows, as if she had always been part of them.
Not a single errant stone was disturbed, not a breath of dust displaced. She lingered there, poised at the delicate divide between the shadow of the archway and the sun’s encroaching dominion, her form half-draped in the cool, lifeless dark.
“There you are.”
Her voice was smooth, unhurried, as if she'd neen standing there far longer than she let on—watching, waiting, measuring the distance between them in more ways than one.
“If I didn’t know any better,” she mused, tilting her head ever so slightly, “I would think you were avoiding me.”
Her golden gaze flickered—not toward Khei, but toward the pale morning sky above, mindful of the light she would not dare challenge. It had been so long since she had stood at the mercy of the sun, long enough that she had nearly forgotten the way dawn bled across the horizon, staining it in pastels before deepening into the rich hues of morning. Once, she might have found it beautiful. Now, it was little more than a quiet reminder of everything she had lost.
A pause. A breath of silence, weighted but unspoken. Then, finally, she turned her gaze fully upon Khei.
“Is this a good time to talk, dear?”
She leaned against the stone wall of the doorway, studying the younger woman with an air of patience that was both genuine and practiced. Khei was in a contemplative mood, working through the delicate tangle of human emotion—something Qarinah, despite all her centuries, had long since ceased to experience herself. Empathy was not a skill she possessed, nor was it something she could convincingly feign. But she understood tension. She understood the sharp edge of betrayal, no matter how minuscule the offense. And she understood that, for the sake of their alliance, she would need to navigate this carefully.
A hint of amusement ghosted across her lips as she tilted her head.
“I imagine you’ve built up quite the appetite after last night.” A beat, her tone turning almost playful. “And, no doubt, an equally long string of questions and accusations.”
Not a single errant stone was disturbed, not a breath of dust displaced. She lingered there, poised at the delicate divide between the shadow of the archway and the sun’s encroaching dominion, her form half-draped in the cool, lifeless dark.
“There you are.”
Her voice was smooth, unhurried, as if she'd neen standing there far longer than she let on—watching, waiting, measuring the distance between them in more ways than one.
“If I didn’t know any better,” she mused, tilting her head ever so slightly, “I would think you were avoiding me.”
Her golden gaze flickered—not toward Khei, but toward the pale morning sky above, mindful of the light she would not dare challenge. It had been so long since she had stood at the mercy of the sun, long enough that she had nearly forgotten the way dawn bled across the horizon, staining it in pastels before deepening into the rich hues of morning. Once, she might have found it beautiful. Now, it was little more than a quiet reminder of everything she had lost.
A pause. A breath of silence, weighted but unspoken. Then, finally, she turned her gaze fully upon Khei.
“Is this a good time to talk, dear?”
She leaned against the stone wall of the doorway, studying the younger woman with an air of patience that was both genuine and practiced. Khei was in a contemplative mood, working through the delicate tangle of human emotion—something Qarinah, despite all her centuries, had long since ceased to experience herself. Empathy was not a skill she possessed, nor was it something she could convincingly feign. But she understood tension. She understood the sharp edge of betrayal, no matter how minuscule the offense. And she understood that, for the sake of their alliance, she would need to navigate this carefully.
A hint of amusement ghosted across her lips as she tilted her head.
“I imagine you’ve built up quite the appetite after last night.” A beat, her tone turning almost playful. “And, no doubt, an equally long string of questions and accusations.”
Re: The Devil You Know..
Khei didn’t turn to face Qarinah right away. Instead, she remained seated on the ledge, her arms draped over her knees, fingers idly tracing the stone’s uneven surface. The cold wind that howled at this height did little to stir her; she had grown accustomed to worse.
For a moment, she didn't say anything. Just silently stared out at the landscape as if searching for something only she could see. The silence stretched thin and taunt, before she finally exhaled– slow and deliberate, and tilted her head just enough to acknowledge Qarinah’s presence.
“Avoiding you?” A dry, humorless chuckle left her lips. “You think this is funny?”
She turned then, her dark eyes meeting Qarinah’s golden ones with a quiet intensity. There was no immediate anger, no outburst of frustration—just something measured, something restrained. But that restraint was its own kind of blade, honed to precision.
“Qarinah, you put me in a situation I didn’t agree to,” Khei continued, her voice calm but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut. “And before you give me some cryptic shit about necessity or trust, keep it. You know what you did.. You made a choice for me. Bottom fucking line. And I don’t take well to that.”
She let the words settle between them, weighty and unvarnished. They weren’t accusations. They were truths, laid bare in the cold morning air.
“So—was it worth it?”
She leaned back slightly, fingers tapping against the stone absently. “Did you get what you were looking for?”
——---——— ——---———
Current Energy Level: 90%
——---——— ——---———
For a moment, she didn't say anything. Just silently stared out at the landscape as if searching for something only she could see. The silence stretched thin and taunt, before she finally exhaled– slow and deliberate, and tilted her head just enough to acknowledge Qarinah’s presence.
“Avoiding you?” A dry, humorless chuckle left her lips. “You think this is funny?”
She turned then, her dark eyes meeting Qarinah’s golden ones with a quiet intensity. There was no immediate anger, no outburst of frustration—just something measured, something restrained. But that restraint was its own kind of blade, honed to precision.
“Qarinah, you put me in a situation I didn’t agree to,” Khei continued, her voice calm but carrying an edge sharp enough to cut. “And before you give me some cryptic shit about necessity or trust, keep it. You know what you did.. You made a choice for me. Bottom fucking line. And I don’t take well to that.”
She let the words settle between them, weighty and unvarnished. They weren’t accusations. They were truths, laid bare in the cold morning air.
“So—was it worth it?”
She leaned back slightly, fingers tapping against the stone absently. “Did you get what you were looking for?”
——---——— ——---———
Current Energy Level: 90%
——---——— ——---———
Re: The Devil You Know..
Qarinah did not answer right away. She regarded Khei with an expression that was neither defensive nor remorseful—just quiet, unreadable contemplation. Her golden eyes, luminous even in the dim morning light, caught the shifting hues of dawn like molten amber, reflecting something distant, something unknowable.
The breeze curled around them, carrying the crisp scent of stone and earth.
Then, at last, the faintest hint of a smile touched her lips. It was not smug, nor was it amused. If anything, it carried the ghost of something that, in another lifetime, might have been mistaken for empathy—if not for the ever-present undercurrent of calculation beneath it.
"You're allowed to be upset with me."
Her voice was smooth, deliberate, as if they were merely exchanging pleasantries rather than standing at the precipice of something unspoken, something fragile. She stepped forward, a measured movement that brought her near but never too close, still lingering just shy of the sunlight’s reach.
“But do you believe I enjoyed it? That I did this out of some selfish, carnal whim?”
A pause—long enough to let the question settle, long enough to let Khei consider the weight of it. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she allowed a flicker of amusement to lace her words.
“Well… perhaps I did. A little.”
There was no apology in her tone, no feigned guilt—only quiet certainty. “But understand this, Khei—it was necessary. Not something done out of huubris or creulty.. quite the opposite in fact.”
Her gaze swept over the other woman—not cruelly, not condescendingly, but as one might observe a blade fresh from the forge, still cooling, still finding its true shape.
“I've given you something no one else ever has. No restraints, no expectations—just the truth of what you are, who you are.. And despite your initial grievances, despite your stubborn insistence otherwise… tell me honestly—do you still feel powerless?”
Silence settled between them, stretching taut like a wire on the verge of snapping.
And then, softer now, her voice dipped, a shade more intrigued than before.
“So, you tell me, Khei—was it worth it?”
There was no challenge in the question, no demand. Just patience. Just inevitability..
“How did it feel, hm?" she murmured, her words threading through the space between them like silk, “To quiet that cosmic storm? To pull yourself back—not because you were forced, but because you chose to?”
..Because whether Khei admitted it or not, Qarinah already knew the answer.
The breeze curled around them, carrying the crisp scent of stone and earth.
Then, at last, the faintest hint of a smile touched her lips. It was not smug, nor was it amused. If anything, it carried the ghost of something that, in another lifetime, might have been mistaken for empathy—if not for the ever-present undercurrent of calculation beneath it.
"You're allowed to be upset with me."
Her voice was smooth, deliberate, as if they were merely exchanging pleasantries rather than standing at the precipice of something unspoken, something fragile. She stepped forward, a measured movement that brought her near but never too close, still lingering just shy of the sunlight’s reach.
“But do you believe I enjoyed it? That I did this out of some selfish, carnal whim?”
A pause—long enough to let the question settle, long enough to let Khei consider the weight of it. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she allowed a flicker of amusement to lace her words.
“Well… perhaps I did. A little.”
There was no apology in her tone, no feigned guilt—only quiet certainty. “But understand this, Khei—it was necessary. Not something done out of huubris or creulty.. quite the opposite in fact.”
Her gaze swept over the other woman—not cruelly, not condescendingly, but as one might observe a blade fresh from the forge, still cooling, still finding its true shape.
“I've given you something no one else ever has. No restraints, no expectations—just the truth of what you are, who you are.. And despite your initial grievances, despite your stubborn insistence otherwise… tell me honestly—do you still feel powerless?”
Silence settled between them, stretching taut like a wire on the verge of snapping.
And then, softer now, her voice dipped, a shade more intrigued than before.
“So, you tell me, Khei—was it worth it?”
There was no challenge in the question, no demand. Just patience. Just inevitability..
“How did it feel, hm?" she murmured, her words threading through the space between them like silk, “To quiet that cosmic storm? To pull yourself back—not because you were forced, but because you chose to?”
..Because whether Khei admitted it or not, Qarinah already knew the answer.
Re: The Devil You Know..
A silence stretched on between them—one borne from a cocktail of defiance and contemplation.
Khei sat motionless, her limbs slack but her mind coiled tight. For the first time in her life, she had stood toe-to-toe with the thing that lived inside her—the ancient, writhing curse that twisted her soul—and she had won.
That truth should’ve felt liberating. But instead, it curled within her like a thorn caught beneath skin. Not because she had triumphed—but because it had been Qarinah who led her there.
It scalded her pride.
The way that presumptuous sorceress moved through the world—imperious, amused, always just a step ahead. She managed Khei’s cosmic affliction the way a scholar might prod at a curious insect. Not with cruelty, but detachment. Interest. Confidence born from knowing that, no matter how dark the pit, she’d be prepared to face it.
Now, Qarinah lingered in the gloom beyond the light’s reach, her presence half-shadow, half-grace.
Khei had spent her entire life running from that thing inside her. Fighting it. Failing. Again and again. Clawing through nightmares just to stay human.
Qarinah, somehow, had drawn a line through the chaos. Revealed a path like it was already written. As if her golden eyes had scryed the stars and saw it in the future.
Her insight, her manipulations—call them what they were—had carved open something Khei didn’t know could be touched. And the worst part? It worked.
Projects. Games. That’s what it all was to her, wasn’t it?
Qarinah wasn’t just a sorceress. She was a vampire—immortal, undead, a predator who’d lived long enough to watch the tides of empires shift like dust in the wind. And now that Khei knew that truth, she couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t ignore the cold patience in Qarinah’s every move.
Still, what choice did she have?
Khei drew in a long breath, letting it burn through the resentment churning in her gut. The silence between them had grown thick with unspoken things—distrust, gratitude, maybe even something like admiration.
Despite her emotions.. Khei knew she wasn’t a child anymore. She couldn’t afford to cling to righteous indignation when the path forward demanded clarity, not emotion.
She sat there a moment longer, shoulders squared but no longer tense. The silence stopped being a shield, and became a choice. A calm before the next truth.
And then she moved.
Khei shifted her weight and turned to face her unlikely mentor. The tension hadn’t left her body, not fully—but it had cooled. Transformed. Less like a lit fuse, more like tempered steel—shaped by fire, but solid. Unyielding.
Qarinah didn’t move. She didn’t need to. Her stillness wasn’t idleness—it was confidence distilled into posture. Like a lion lounging in the tall grass, unconcerned, because it knew the entire savannah belonged to it.
Khei stared at her for a long beat, then exhaled through her nose and spoke.
“...fuck you,” she muttered, dry as ash, the words falling like stones into the quiet.
Not angry. Not even bitter. Just tired. Honest.
A crooked half-smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, unbidden and reluctant. It held no warmth, but it was real.
“To be honest,” she added, standing with a soft groan, “I expected more gloating.”
Her bare feet whispered against the stone floor as she stepped toward the center of the room, slow and measured.
Her skin still carried the faint shimmer of heat, the aftershock of the transformation—not unlike a furnace recently cooled, its fire banked but still smoldering underneath.
Something inside her had shifted when she forced Ulduin to yield. Her body still felt foreign, like she was wearing someone else’s skin—but for once, it wasn’t suffocating.
It felt like power. Real, terrifying, and earned. But it had been Qarinah—a manipulative, calculating, maddeningly cryptic vampire—who’d handed her the key.
“But you were right. So what now?”
She paused, glanced back at Qarinah with a lopsided tilt of her head.
“Another test, maybe?” she said, the sarcasm soft and dry. “You know. Just to make sure I didn’t fluke my way through the first one?”
The jest barely covered the tremor of uncertainty beneath it—but it was there, a thread of humor spun from exhaustion.
She crossed her arms, her crimson eyes gleaming beneath the tousled curtain of her hair. They weren’t trembling anymore.
There was a question in her voice now—not just defiance.
“What’s next in your grand plan for me, sorceress?” she said at last, staring Qarinah down with something between challenge and curiosity
Khei sat motionless, her limbs slack but her mind coiled tight. For the first time in her life, she had stood toe-to-toe with the thing that lived inside her—the ancient, writhing curse that twisted her soul—and she had won.
That truth should’ve felt liberating. But instead, it curled within her like a thorn caught beneath skin. Not because she had triumphed—but because it had been Qarinah who led her there.
It scalded her pride.
The way that presumptuous sorceress moved through the world—imperious, amused, always just a step ahead. She managed Khei’s cosmic affliction the way a scholar might prod at a curious insect. Not with cruelty, but detachment. Interest. Confidence born from knowing that, no matter how dark the pit, she’d be prepared to face it.
Now, Qarinah lingered in the gloom beyond the light’s reach, her presence half-shadow, half-grace.
Khei had spent her entire life running from that thing inside her. Fighting it. Failing. Again and again. Clawing through nightmares just to stay human.
Qarinah, somehow, had drawn a line through the chaos. Revealed a path like it was already written. As if her golden eyes had scryed the stars and saw it in the future.
Her insight, her manipulations—call them what they were—had carved open something Khei didn’t know could be touched. And the worst part? It worked.
Projects. Games. That’s what it all was to her, wasn’t it?
Qarinah wasn’t just a sorceress. She was a vampire—immortal, undead, a predator who’d lived long enough to watch the tides of empires shift like dust in the wind. And now that Khei knew that truth, she couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t ignore the cold patience in Qarinah’s every move.
Still, what choice did she have?
Khei drew in a long breath, letting it burn through the resentment churning in her gut. The silence between them had grown thick with unspoken things—distrust, gratitude, maybe even something like admiration.
Despite her emotions.. Khei knew she wasn’t a child anymore. She couldn’t afford to cling to righteous indignation when the path forward demanded clarity, not emotion.
She sat there a moment longer, shoulders squared but no longer tense. The silence stopped being a shield, and became a choice. A calm before the next truth.
And then she moved.
Khei shifted her weight and turned to face her unlikely mentor. The tension hadn’t left her body, not fully—but it had cooled. Transformed. Less like a lit fuse, more like tempered steel—shaped by fire, but solid. Unyielding.
Qarinah didn’t move. She didn’t need to. Her stillness wasn’t idleness—it was confidence distilled into posture. Like a lion lounging in the tall grass, unconcerned, because it knew the entire savannah belonged to it.
Khei stared at her for a long beat, then exhaled through her nose and spoke.
“...fuck you,” she muttered, dry as ash, the words falling like stones into the quiet.
Not angry. Not even bitter. Just tired. Honest.
A crooked half-smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, unbidden and reluctant. It held no warmth, but it was real.
“To be honest,” she added, standing with a soft groan, “I expected more gloating.”
Her bare feet whispered against the stone floor as she stepped toward the center of the room, slow and measured.
Her skin still carried the faint shimmer of heat, the aftershock of the transformation—not unlike a furnace recently cooled, its fire banked but still smoldering underneath.
Something inside her had shifted when she forced Ulduin to yield. Her body still felt foreign, like she was wearing someone else’s skin—but for once, it wasn’t suffocating.
It felt like power. Real, terrifying, and earned. But it had been Qarinah—a manipulative, calculating, maddeningly cryptic vampire—who’d handed her the key.
“But you were right. So what now?”
She paused, glanced back at Qarinah with a lopsided tilt of her head.
“Another test, maybe?” she said, the sarcasm soft and dry. “You know. Just to make sure I didn’t fluke my way through the first one?”
The jest barely covered the tremor of uncertainty beneath it—but it was there, a thread of humor spun from exhaustion.
She crossed her arms, her crimson eyes gleaming beneath the tousled curtain of her hair. They weren’t trembling anymore.
There was a question in her voice now—not just defiance.
“What’s next in your grand plan for me, sorceress?” she said at last, staring Qarinah down with something between challenge and curiosity
Re: The Devil You Know..
Qarinah’s expression didn’t shift right away. That small, unreadable smile lingered—curved like the crescent moon, equal parts amusement and quiet calculation.
“You say that in jest,” she said at last, her voice smooth and cool, like velvet drawn over tempered steel. “But you are correct. Another test. Many, in fact. That is how training works my dear.”
She remained nestled within the sanctuary of shadow beneath the archway, the sunlight licking just inches from her feet, a silent barrier she did not cross.
“Control over Ulduin is not something to be wished for, nor coaxed into being by hope alone…” she continued, her tone dipping into something lower, more grave. “You are caught in a cosmic war of will and attrition—and you’ve only just claimed your first skirmish.”
She shifted slightly, her shoulder resting against the cold stone, her gaze never once leaving Khei.
“And unfortunately, one victory does not grant sovereignty. Not over a force like that.”
Her voice hardened then, velvet traded for iron.
“Tonight, we will seek the edges of your strength—and the places where it frays. From there we will push those boundaries. Again and again, until the shape of your limits are made clear. Because heed my words, Khei..” she paused, letting the words settle like dust, “..there will be momentd when Ulduin will not yield. And I expect you’d rather be ready when that happens.”
She folded her hands behind her back, letting the silence breathe for a moment. It wasn’t hesitation—it was precision. A scalpel’s pause before the cut.
“Do not mistake this for cruelty, love. I will not, and shall not throw you into suffering without purpose. I may break you—just a little—but only to refine your edge. To temper you.”
Her tone remained flat, devoid of malice, but there was an otherworldly calm to it—something ancient and surgical.
“Because as it stands now, your victories stray a little too close to accidental happenstance for my liking. But we can fix that with a little effort and grace."
She tilted her head slightly, watching Khei through lashes dark as ink.
“I will not belabor the point.” she said, stepping back into a deeper shadow. “I shall retire to my quarters, but I expect to see you in the courtyard at sundown.”
Her gaze flicked downward, just once, to the rim of golden sunlight that traced the threshold—an unspoken admission of her boundary, even if her pride refused to say it aloud.
“And don’t keep me waiting long, my star,” she added with a small, knowing smirk. “Momentum, like control, is easily lost. And if you are to master the thing that sleeps beneath your skin… then we strike tonight. While the iron is hot.”
And with that, she turned, her silhouette melting into the corridor’s shadowed veil like ink bleeding into silk—seamless, soundless, gone. Leaving Khei with her thoughts in a reflective, contemplative silence.
“You say that in jest,” she said at last, her voice smooth and cool, like velvet drawn over tempered steel. “But you are correct. Another test. Many, in fact. That is how training works my dear.”
She remained nestled within the sanctuary of shadow beneath the archway, the sunlight licking just inches from her feet, a silent barrier she did not cross.
“Control over Ulduin is not something to be wished for, nor coaxed into being by hope alone…” she continued, her tone dipping into something lower, more grave. “You are caught in a cosmic war of will and attrition—and you’ve only just claimed your first skirmish.”
She shifted slightly, her shoulder resting against the cold stone, her gaze never once leaving Khei.
“And unfortunately, one victory does not grant sovereignty. Not over a force like that.”
Her voice hardened then, velvet traded for iron.
“Tonight, we will seek the edges of your strength—and the places where it frays. From there we will push those boundaries. Again and again, until the shape of your limits are made clear. Because heed my words, Khei..” she paused, letting the words settle like dust, “..there will be momentd when Ulduin will not yield. And I expect you’d rather be ready when that happens.”
She folded her hands behind her back, letting the silence breathe for a moment. It wasn’t hesitation—it was precision. A scalpel’s pause before the cut.
“Do not mistake this for cruelty, love. I will not, and shall not throw you into suffering without purpose. I may break you—just a little—but only to refine your edge. To temper you.”
Her tone remained flat, devoid of malice, but there was an otherworldly calm to it—something ancient and surgical.
“Because as it stands now, your victories stray a little too close to accidental happenstance for my liking. But we can fix that with a little effort and grace."
She tilted her head slightly, watching Khei through lashes dark as ink.
“I will not belabor the point.” she said, stepping back into a deeper shadow. “I shall retire to my quarters, but I expect to see you in the courtyard at sundown.”
Her gaze flicked downward, just once, to the rim of golden sunlight that traced the threshold—an unspoken admission of her boundary, even if her pride refused to say it aloud.
“And don’t keep me waiting long, my star,” she added with a small, knowing smirk. “Momentum, like control, is easily lost. And if you are to master the thing that sleeps beneath your skin… then we strike tonight. While the iron is hot.”
And with that, she turned, her silhouette melting into the corridor’s shadowed veil like ink bleeding into silk—seamless, soundless, gone. Leaving Khei with her thoughts in a reflective, contemplative silence.
Re: The Devil You Know..
[Time Skip]
Sundown draped the castle in hues of molten gold and bruised violet. The courtyard stretched before her, ancient stone tiles cracked with age, ivy clawing up the arches like time trying to reclaim what it once owned. It was quiet—eerily so—except for the crunch of Khei’s boots grinding against the gravel.
She stepped into view, her silhouette framed in the last breath of sunlight. Her time here had changed her body in subtle but undeniable ways—muscle carved with precision beneath her skin, not bulky, but defined, sculpted by months of grueling training
Her gait, once all instinct and survival, now moved like a blade just shy of the draw. Even her hair had lost its wild, uneven chaos. It was twisted and elegantly braided like a crown, catching the last light in waves of copper and dusk.
Khei exhaled, slow and steady. Attuning herself to the flow of eldritch power coiled beneath her skin. She could feel it now—primed like a beast behind a jagged bars.
Ulduin.
His presence had always been invasive, but he was far quieter than he'd ever been before.
Not tamed, but caged. No longer just a nuclear storm tearing through her nerves, but something she could sense—feel—like a thundercloud before the strike. She could taste his anger on the back of her tongue, thick and bitter like burnt copper. And if she focused, really focused, she could feel when it coiled tighter. When it leaned into her fury. When it pulsed, just a little, in response to her pain.
She’d earned this clarity through sweaty, bloodied, sleepless nights of dragging her broken body back onto the stones of this courtyard. Qarinah didn’t believe in mercy—or if she did, she had a truly creative definition of it. Her training methods were... colorful. Cruel. Relentless.
But effective nonetheless.
Khei could revert now. Most of the time. If her transformation wasn’t triggered by something visceral—like bone breaking or organs spilling—she could take herself back. She could claw her way out of the monster’s skin before his rage swallowed her whole.
Ulduin, however, remained the same feral storm. A god-thing spawned of entropy and hunger. He was u controllable.. But she began to notice something.. whispers—moments where her will bled into his fury. A blister of focus when her thoughts were honed or sharpened on a goal. She couldnt control him. But something... influence, maybe? A suggestion. A soft whisper in the chaos.
It wasn't much, but it was something to build on. And remained the closest semblance to true power she ever held.
She had no intention of letting it waine.
--
Khei continued her stride toward the training grounds, culturing her mind for battle.
Her gaze lifted as she rounded the final row of hedges, and the courtyard finally opened up before her—half-devoured by shadow, half-kissed by the last golden fingers of the day.
And there—because of course nothing was ever simple with her—sat Qarinah.
Khei stopped, one brow twitching upward.
“..and what the hell is this?" she muttered.
Beneath the largest arch, veiled perfectly in shade, the vampire sat at a small table of polished blackwood. And upon its surface a silver tin nestled a bottle of deep crimson, the ice within it barely clinking.
Of course she had wine. Of course she’d turned this battlescarred courtyard into her own gothic painting. Always theatrical.
Khei sighed through her nose and kept walking, boots slow, deliberate against the stone.
“..please tell me we’re not about to toast my progress,” she called, voice flat with suspicion and just a hint of dry venom as she stopped at the chair set for her.
Sundown draped the castle in hues of molten gold and bruised violet. The courtyard stretched before her, ancient stone tiles cracked with age, ivy clawing up the arches like time trying to reclaim what it once owned. It was quiet—eerily so—except for the crunch of Khei’s boots grinding against the gravel.
She stepped into view, her silhouette framed in the last breath of sunlight. Her time here had changed her body in subtle but undeniable ways—muscle carved with precision beneath her skin, not bulky, but defined, sculpted by months of grueling training
Her gait, once all instinct and survival, now moved like a blade just shy of the draw. Even her hair had lost its wild, uneven chaos. It was twisted and elegantly braided like a crown, catching the last light in waves of copper and dusk.
Khei exhaled, slow and steady. Attuning herself to the flow of eldritch power coiled beneath her skin. She could feel it now—primed like a beast behind a jagged bars.
Ulduin.
His presence had always been invasive, but he was far quieter than he'd ever been before.
Not tamed, but caged. No longer just a nuclear storm tearing through her nerves, but something she could sense—feel—like a thundercloud before the strike. She could taste his anger on the back of her tongue, thick and bitter like burnt copper. And if she focused, really focused, she could feel when it coiled tighter. When it leaned into her fury. When it pulsed, just a little, in response to her pain.
She’d earned this clarity through sweaty, bloodied, sleepless nights of dragging her broken body back onto the stones of this courtyard. Qarinah didn’t believe in mercy—or if she did, she had a truly creative definition of it. Her training methods were... colorful. Cruel. Relentless.
But effective nonetheless.
Khei could revert now. Most of the time. If her transformation wasn’t triggered by something visceral—like bone breaking or organs spilling—she could take herself back. She could claw her way out of the monster’s skin before his rage swallowed her whole.
Ulduin, however, remained the same feral storm. A god-thing spawned of entropy and hunger. He was u controllable.. But she began to notice something.. whispers—moments where her will bled into his fury. A blister of focus when her thoughts were honed or sharpened on a goal. She couldnt control him. But something... influence, maybe? A suggestion. A soft whisper in the chaos.
It wasn't much, but it was something to build on. And remained the closest semblance to true power she ever held.
She had no intention of letting it waine.
--
Khei continued her stride toward the training grounds, culturing her mind for battle.
Her gaze lifted as she rounded the final row of hedges, and the courtyard finally opened up before her—half-devoured by shadow, half-kissed by the last golden fingers of the day.
And there—because of course nothing was ever simple with her—sat Qarinah.
Khei stopped, one brow twitching upward.
“..and what the hell is this?" she muttered.
Beneath the largest arch, veiled perfectly in shade, the vampire sat at a small table of polished blackwood. And upon its surface a silver tin nestled a bottle of deep crimson, the ice within it barely clinking.
Of course she had wine. Of course she’d turned this battlescarred courtyard into her own gothic painting. Always theatrical.
Khei sighed through her nose and kept walking, boots slow, deliberate against the stone.
“..please tell me we’re not about to toast my progress,” she called, voice flat with suspicion and just a hint of dry venom as she stopped at the chair set for her.
Re: The Devil You Know..
"Oh, don't be so droll.."
Qarinah didn’t look up right away.
She swirled the wine lazily, crimson spinning against the glass like blood made performative. The tip of one pale finger traced the rim in idle circles, as if tuning the moment like an instrument.
Only when Khei’s flat shoes stopped beside the chair did she finally speak—soft, silken, and with that maddening lilt that made every word feel like it had fangs.
“Would it wound your pride so deeply to be celebrated, Khei?”
She glanced up then, eyes gleaming like garnets in the dark, mouth curled in the soft suggestion of a smile that could be kindness… or a dare.
“I admire you work ethic, but have some perspective dear. We've been at this for some time, and you’ve endured, survived, and evolved into something sharper than when you've entered.”
Her eyes roamed deliberately, taking in Khei’s new form with a predator’s appreciation.
“It would be a shame not to mark the occasion.”
She gestured to the empty seat across from her with two fingers, elegant and casual.
“Sit. Humor me. I promise not to bite…”
A beat.
“Unless of course you ask..”
There was a glimmer of amusement in her voice now, a smirk threatening at the edge of her mouth. But beneath the velvet tones and theatrical calm was the same cold gravity Khei had come to know intimately during their long, punishing months together. Qarinah was not only performance.
“Besides,” she added, lifting her glass to savor the aroma before she took a sip. “I'm afraid our time together may be coming to an end sooner than I thought.”
She placed her glass back on its coaster. Her voice dropped slightly, and that undercurrent of something heavier—ominous, prophetic—threaded through the air like smoke.
“Thing's are changing my dear. And I thought you might like a quiet moment before the storm.”
Qarinah didn’t look up right away.
She swirled the wine lazily, crimson spinning against the glass like blood made performative. The tip of one pale finger traced the rim in idle circles, as if tuning the moment like an instrument.
Only when Khei’s flat shoes stopped beside the chair did she finally speak—soft, silken, and with that maddening lilt that made every word feel like it had fangs.
“Would it wound your pride so deeply to be celebrated, Khei?”
She glanced up then, eyes gleaming like garnets in the dark, mouth curled in the soft suggestion of a smile that could be kindness… or a dare.
“I admire you work ethic, but have some perspective dear. We've been at this for some time, and you’ve endured, survived, and evolved into something sharper than when you've entered.”
Her eyes roamed deliberately, taking in Khei’s new form with a predator’s appreciation.
“It would be a shame not to mark the occasion.”
She gestured to the empty seat across from her with two fingers, elegant and casual.
“Sit. Humor me. I promise not to bite…”
A beat.
“Unless of course you ask..”
There was a glimmer of amusement in her voice now, a smirk threatening at the edge of her mouth. But beneath the velvet tones and theatrical calm was the same cold gravity Khei had come to know intimately during their long, punishing months together. Qarinah was not only performance.
“Besides,” she added, lifting her glass to savor the aroma before she took a sip. “I'm afraid our time together may be coming to an end sooner than I thought.”
She placed her glass back on its coaster. Her voice dropped slightly, and that undercurrent of something heavier—ominous, prophetic—threaded through the air like smoke.
“Thing's are changing my dear. And I thought you might like a quiet moment before the storm.”
Re: The Devil You Know..
“Cryptic as fucking always..”
Khei thought to herself.
Her eyes flicked to the wine—its dark, ruby swirl catching the last of the courtyard's light—and then to the absurd civility of the whole damn scene. The polished table. The silver tin. The delicate clink of ice against the crystal beneath the grim hue of dusk. It was all so Qarinah.
She exhaled through her nose and smiled—a wry, sideways smirk she’d perfected during these strange, brutal months under the vampire’s watchful eye. If nothing else, Qarinah was right: she’d earned a day off. And if the immortal wanted to wrap it in velvet and shadow and ceremony, then… fine.
“I think you just like hearing yourself talk,” Khei muttered at last, her voice dry as sun-baked stone as she eased into the chair. “Or you’re trying to soften me up for something.”
The cold kissed her fingertips as she pulled the bottle from the ice, droplets skimming down the neck of the glass in rivulets.
Her gaze met Qarinah’s without flinching—challenging, not combative, but clear.
“You don’t celebrate people unless they’re about to do something dangerous. Or die.”
A pause. A flicker of sardonic amusement curved at her lip as she inspected the foreign language inscribed upon the bottle.
“...Or both.”
But even as she said it, something shifted. A tightening deep in her gut—low, instinctual. Not fear.. But tension. A subtle, invisible thread pulled taut between two breaths.
Our time may be coming to an end.
The way Qarinah had said it… it was like honey poured over rancid milk. It soured her stomach.
Khei set the bottle down with a muted clink, her fingers lingering on it just a moment longer than they needed to.
“...we can toast later,” she said finally, her voice softer now—cool, measured, the consonants brushed faintly with the weight of her accent. “First…”
Her eyes lifted again, meeting Qarinah’s with quiet insistence.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Khei thought to herself.
Her eyes flicked to the wine—its dark, ruby swirl catching the last of the courtyard's light—and then to the absurd civility of the whole damn scene. The polished table. The silver tin. The delicate clink of ice against the crystal beneath the grim hue of dusk. It was all so Qarinah.
She exhaled through her nose and smiled—a wry, sideways smirk she’d perfected during these strange, brutal months under the vampire’s watchful eye. If nothing else, Qarinah was right: she’d earned a day off. And if the immortal wanted to wrap it in velvet and shadow and ceremony, then… fine.
“I think you just like hearing yourself talk,” Khei muttered at last, her voice dry as sun-baked stone as she eased into the chair. “Or you’re trying to soften me up for something.”
The cold kissed her fingertips as she pulled the bottle from the ice, droplets skimming down the neck of the glass in rivulets.
Her gaze met Qarinah’s without flinching—challenging, not combative, but clear.
“You don’t celebrate people unless they’re about to do something dangerous. Or die.”
A pause. A flicker of sardonic amusement curved at her lip as she inspected the foreign language inscribed upon the bottle.
“...Or both.”
But even as she said it, something shifted. A tightening deep in her gut—low, instinctual. Not fear.. But tension. A subtle, invisible thread pulled taut between two breaths.
Our time may be coming to an end.
The way Qarinah had said it… it was like honey poured over rancid milk. It soured her stomach.
Khei set the bottle down with a muted clink, her fingers lingering on it just a moment longer than they needed to.
“...we can toast later,” she said finally, her voice softer now—cool, measured, the consonants brushed faintly with the weight of her accent. “First…”
Her eyes lifted again, meeting Qarinah’s with quiet insistence.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Re: The Devil You Know..
Qarinah chuckled softly, the sound low and velvet-smooth. Her fingers continued their slow, deliberate orbit around the rim of her glass, as though coaxing meaning from the silence itself.
“Oh, you’re no fun at all, dear..” she murmured, almost wistfully.
She took a languid sip of her wine, eyes locked with Khei’s over the curve of the glass—golden irises gleaming with amusement.
“But if you insist on tearing down the curtain before I’ve finished the overture…”
A sigh, quiet and theatrical, but not without weight. She set the glass down with a soft clink, and straightened—not just her spine, but her presence. The air around her seemed to still. Less theatre now. More truth.
“The truth is, there is little more I can offer you, Khei.” She said plainly. “You’ve already outpaced the path I carved for you. Grown past the boundaries of what I had imagined, and impressed me at every turn.”
A faint smile curved her lips—wry, touched with pride, touched with melancholy.
“But the world is shifting, rapidly might I add. And what’s coming next… will demand more than my counsel can grant you. It will demand mastery."
She leaned back in her chair, folding one leg over the other with practiced ease, her voice growing low and deliberate.
“There exists a circle.. Esoteric. Otherworldly. Powerful, and far more qualified than I when it comes to forging monsters into legends. ” Her gaze sharpened, but her lips remained calm and still.
“They are known as the Onyx Conclave, and they are a coalition of warriors from across the galaxy. They are not gentle teachers, but they are the only ones who can shape you into what the next chapter of your story requires.”
“Oh, you’re no fun at all, dear..” she murmured, almost wistfully.
She took a languid sip of her wine, eyes locked with Khei’s over the curve of the glass—golden irises gleaming with amusement.
“But if you insist on tearing down the curtain before I’ve finished the overture…”
A sigh, quiet and theatrical, but not without weight. She set the glass down with a soft clink, and straightened—not just her spine, but her presence. The air around her seemed to still. Less theatre now. More truth.
“The truth is, there is little more I can offer you, Khei.” She said plainly. “You’ve already outpaced the path I carved for you. Grown past the boundaries of what I had imagined, and impressed me at every turn.”
A faint smile curved her lips—wry, touched with pride, touched with melancholy.
“But the world is shifting, rapidly might I add. And what’s coming next… will demand more than my counsel can grant you. It will demand mastery."
She leaned back in her chair, folding one leg over the other with practiced ease, her voice growing low and deliberate.
“There exists a circle.. Esoteric. Otherworldly. Powerful, and far more qualified than I when it comes to forging monsters into legends. ” Her gaze sharpened, but her lips remained calm and still.
“They are known as the Onyx Conclave, and they are a coalition of warriors from across the galaxy. They are not gentle teachers, but they are the only ones who can shape you into what the next chapter of your story requires.”
The team