Music is Just Like You by Celldweller. Play it!

(Also, this is one of the chapters I'm super excited for. So enjoy!)

******

I'm wading through mud—my entire body is submerged in it. Yet I can breathe. My limbs still don't carry a single feather's weight in them, but it's so hard to move. I don't know how to describe this feeling. I just know that I'm being surrounded by magic.

My senses are being drowned as well. I'm aware that my eyes are opened; and I'm fairly sure that I haven't gone deaf. However, it's as though someone has put a stopper to all of my sensory nerves—as though something is truly, literally overwhelming my senses.

I have a feeling that someone is calling me in the distance. Everything is so far away. If only I could just get a bit closer—

Almost on cue, I finally hear a word.

"Abomination."

My senses come to life. Suddenly, I know where I am. I understand what is going on around me.

I'm inside my predecessor's memories.

Or at least, fragments of them. They're all around me—floating around in the form of shattered, glowing lights. If I reach out to them—no. My hand is already extended towards one, but it skirts around my fingers, just out of my grip. Cheeky thing. It's probably assessing if I'm worthy enough to share its most private thoughts.

"Abomination," the word echoes in my mind again.

I look about, searching for the source of the voice.

"No need to search for me," the voice sniggers, slightly raspy with disuse. "I'm inside you. Just call me out."

It sounds nothing like Abner. That's not very comforting. Still, I go ahead and open my mouth, slightly surprise that my vocal chords are still functioning: "Come on out then."

"If you say so."

Something punches me from inside out.

I gasp, the impact and the pain searing into my head. The thing is clawing itself out of me. It's always been inside me this whole time—I instinctively know it. The revelation is horrifying, no less, to have an alien manifestation purging itself out of your body.

Eventually, the pain fades away, and I recover myself enough to see a man's shape slowing moulding itself before me, its features and form as wispy as smoke.

In fact, it rather resembles a ghost.

The features sharpen. I see a harsh, weathered face, a mouth that seems perpetually downturned, and an intense gaze. It's a face that I recognise well from the numerous portraits looming around Castle Larstand—a face that has been immortalised into books regarding the war against Diomedes.

"Lord...Hubert?" I say, half-incredulous that I'm talking with my direct predecessor—the Champion before me.

"So, being a woman hasn't dulled your senses then," he says, sneering. "Can't say that I'm half-pleased to see that."

I stay my tongue. Any arguing with this man would prove pointless. I've barely met him, but I can tell that he's of the sort who believes that women serve no other purpose than managing the household and bearing children. If he were anything like Everest, I might have been able to convince him otherwise, although it might take me half a century to do so. Lord Hubert is an entirely different story.

"At least society has taught you some manners, girl," he continues. "Keeping quiet while your elders talk is always well appreciated."

"Noted," I reply, trying to keep the iciness out of my voice, but failing miserably.

Lord Hubert narrows his already narrowed eyes. "I'll never understand why you were born Champion. You should already be well aware that you will bring destruction to the world I worked so hard to bring peace upon."

A tether leashing my temper snaps. All my life, I've never been subject to such...mockery. Not even when I was working under Sir Isaac.

The Rutherland pride kicks in. "Pardon my forthcoming rudeness, sir. However, you weren't the one who actually slew Diomedes, were you?" I can scarcely believe the words tumbling out of my mouth. Me, daring to accuse my own predecessor of his incompetence. Still, I don't pay any heed to the former Champion's bulging eyes and growing lividness: "Besides, I highly doubt that you alone worked to pave the way for peace."

"I was commanded by Pst. Bronicus himself to lay a foundation for you, girl," he snarls. "Just so that the world you were born into would be fairly free of any trials and tribulations."

"Unfortunately, I don't quite see this so-called foundation you've built for me," I snap back, folding my arms across my chest.

To my surprise, Lord Hubert laughs. "Now I further doubt your capabilities as Champion!" Pietists forgive me, but if this man were still alive, I'd probably have given him an excellent punch squarely in the eye, or perhaps compel him to dance onto tavern table tops in a skirt. Or both. "It's everywhere around you! You're no chosen one of Pst. Bronicus if you fail to see that."

"I think you've already lumped me as a failure. So why don't you enlighten me, since I'm nothing but a foolish woman?"

Spoken in a different tone, and those words might have appeased him. I'm not speaking in the manner of a 'foolish woman' though. No, I'm speaking in the manner of a Captain addressing his subordinates in superior fashion.

And the effect shows. If only I were a man, some form of respect might spark within Lord Hubert. Now, all he sees is a particularly bossy woman who is out of her place.

"Such a fool. Don't you realise that Diomedes's existence was to lead to the purging of all necromancers?" he indulges me anyway. Probably to salvage the remnants of his bruised ego.

"I don't quite follow." That's the truth. Not that I'm going to admit it.

"Pst. Bronicus told me everything. How you would be given the choice to save or destroy this world," he resumes. "But before that, all obstructions in your way needed to be eliminated. The problem of people clamouring for your fire has long been dealt with since the fall of Cambiria. Meanwhile, errant necromancers on your Deathslayer side could prove problematic. Hence, Diomedes."

"Just so that I would be fairly free of my duties as a Deathslayer?" I frown. "That doesn't make any sense."

Lord Hubert heaves a frustrated sigh. "Reasons why women should never be Champions of War and Strategy. Anyway, that is the case, yes. By ensuring all necromancers were purged, you wouldn't have to worry too much about anyone as powerful as Diomedes rising to power while the Song of Prophecy unfolds."

That damned prophecy again.

"However, while your paths have been cleared by me, you'd still need to choose between the two bloodlines," Lord Hubert rattles on. "As the prophecy itself states, one must make a choice—"

"—between what is and what could be," I finish the sentence.

"Yes," Lord Hubert says crossly, either because I've interrupted him or because I've quoted the prophecy correctly. "As much as I'd like to, I can't tell you what each choice entails for you at the end of its path."

"I wouldn't expect you to," I answer. "The Pietists have always been horribly cryptic in their prophecies."

"Can't say I disagree with that," he grunts. "The only time when they were completely straightforward with me was when they were telling me of you. And I was labelled senile for that."

Despite myself, I smile. "Perhaps that's why they elect to remain cryptic. Mystery always appealed so much more to humans, as opposed to the bare-faced truth."

"Aye." Then as though catching himself for softening up, Lord Hubert scowls. "Anyway, I was the one who suggested to purge all necromancers when we finally defeated Diomedes."

"I know that." But now that I think about it... "So you issued the order to kill necromancers—innocents."

He shakes his head, almost mournful. "It had to be done."

I know that, I know that. Yet the idea of basically murdering innocents sickens me. The fact that they are my kin doesn't elevate the feeling. He had done this—Lord Hubert. He had sentenced so many people to death—all in the name of the Pietists.

"Why?" I ask, even though I already have the answer.

"Because of you, of course. Like I said, we couldn't afford errant necromancers rising against you while you have yet to come into your inheritance," he says.

"Because of me..." Lord Hubert may be ridiculously divided when it comes to gender, but I have a feeling that he's never one to disguise a truth. It comes from the bluntness of his mannerisms—of someone so used to having his opinions being taken into account, regardless of their motives or outcomes.

And to know that necromancers have died because of me... That my own grandparents have died because of me.

Even if it's the will of the Pietists, this is ridiculous. So many lives lost. And for what?

"You've gone green around the gills," Lord Hubert snorts. "Such emotional creatures. If you want to prove yourself as a Champion of Pst. Bronicus, then you must be prepared to make hard decisions. Such as this."

"Which includes issuing orders for the deaths of innocents?" I counter quietly.

"Yes."

"Isn't one of our oaths to 'never take a life of a mortal whose soul isn't stained in blood'?"

"Unless it's a direct order from the Pietists."

Wrong, wrong, wrong. I'm standing right before the truth presented to me by my predecessor, unwashed and filthy and true. Everything I know is wrong—I find myself screaming denial at that fact.

What is right and what is wrong? Us Champions are supposed to do what's right. But how can I do that when what I believe to be wrong is right in their eyes?

"Oh, believe me, I was every bit as conflicted as you are right now," says Lord Hubert. "But I had to harden myself to make that decision. Especially when I learned that Diomedes's rise was a win-win situation for both sides."

"Both...sides?" As if the conflict raging in my mind weren't enough.

A slow, wolfish grin spreads across Lord Hubert's lips. One that doesn't suit the narrow eyes. "Why don't you see for yourself? I find talking rather boring. Don't you agree?"

Only then does it dawn upon me that Lord Hubert isn't just misogynistic—he's insane.

Yet there's something wrong about that insanity. It doesn't feel...right.

Then again, insane people never seem quite right.

What the Pietists have told him must have drove him to that point. After all, who wouldn't be mad, after they learned that the Spawn of the Devil oft spoken of in prophecies would be birthed into the world soon? After all that he'd learnt—that he would be forced to make that decision to purge innocent lives...

I can't quite sympathise with him, but I can somewhat understand the imbalance in those eyes now. Comprehend the utter darkness in them.

"I hope you enjoy snow a lot. The Dreyachian Mountains are rather treacherous," he says, the wolfish grin being the last thing I see before my vision fades into black.

******

Cold.

So cold.

Frost seeps into my bones; I feel like my entire frame is made of ice. I feel like I can shatter into a million pieces with a slight movement gone wrong.

But I swallow that fear and keep trekking up the mountain. I squint into the snowstorm, whiteness flurrying in a whirlpool before me. My companions are already up ahead, leaving me trailing after them. I grit my teeth, pushing myself to go faster. I have the dignity of a Champion to maintain, after all.

"Hubert! Move it! Kendra is beginning to lose his trail!" our guide screams into the storm, her eyes a pair of golden daggers cutting across the chaos.

It isn't my fault that I'm not as adaptable to the weather as some others. Still, the idea that Isaac, Percival, Eldric and Kendrick are all coping better than me is humiliating.

I tell myself that it has nothing to do with the injury I'd sustained from Diomedes the last time we'd encountered him.

"Hubert, are you all right?" Luise extends a hand towards me as I wheeze and puff my way up. My pride refuses to take that proffered hand. I manage to pull myself upright beside my fellow Champion without that hand, earning a pinched, hard expression from her.

"Fine. I'm fine," I bark, glaring at my companions when they cast disbelieving stares at me. I note that their eyes are sidling towards the left side of my chest, where my heart should be.

"I could heal you," Kendra says, her bare hands already held out in front of her in a spell-casting pose.

"As I've told you a thousand times before, not necessary," I say, jaws clenched just as a new lance of pain shoots through my ribs.

I don't dare to tell her that it's a possibility that I have been infected by whatever poison that Diomedes had conjured. I can feel it inside me—a living, writhing monster that is slumbering just beneath my skin, ready to burst forth at any moment. Obviously one of his new tricks. I can't say what would happen if Kendra healed it wrong.

You're afraid, my guide says in my head. You fear the future.

I do not, I reply, tone defiant.

Kael chuckles in return. Always the prideful one, he huffs. Very well. Not that anything I say would convince you otherwise.

Glad you understand.

"Hubert, are you sure?" A hand clamps down on my shoulder. "Your injury hasn't been able to heal properly since yesterday. For any normal man, this isn't an issue of concern, naturally. But you..."

"Like I said, I'm fine," I say, the words almost coming out as a snarl. I barely manage to reign my tone back in the face of my closest companion. "Let's move on." I fix my bleary eyes upon Kendra, strands of dark red hair escaping her hood and whipping her face. "Lead the way, Champion of Pst. Zorah."

She dips her head and closes her eyelids, focusing on picking up Diomedes's trail.

We'd found him just two days ago, before we'd crossed into Ravürkian territory. But it'd turned out to be a trap for us—which was how I'd emerged out of that battle with an extra injury. He'd been so close to striking my heart. I push away a shiver from the memory and focus on following Kendra, who's taken to continue hiking up the mountain, Luise beside her to warn the sorceress of possibly dangerous routes.

Isaac slows his pace, his hand still on my shoulder, falling behind the rest to make sure I won't be abandoned. "Come on, Hubert. Just a little while longer," he screams into my ear. Can't the man ever talk in a normal tone? Despite the pain lancing my chest with every step I take, I manage a wry grin.

That's right. After all this—after all we've been through, I can't drop down dead now.

My wound abruptly seems to burst open with shadows.

My knees falter. I collapse onto the ground, doubling over, gasping for breath. My ears start to buzz; my vision pulses. I'm barely aware that the entire team is surrounding me, yelling at me to pull it together.

I want to. Pietists Above, I am a Champion of War. But the wound just won't let me move.

The snow suddenly disappears.

I force myself to look upwards. Kendra has constructed a temporary barrier around us, a safehold in the midst of the snowstorm. Luise is holding the younger woman's elbow, as though she were trying to lend the witch some of her Champion's strength.

"Leave me," I wheeze, agony punching through my ribcage. One hand automatically clutches the injured area. "You have to go on without me."

"Idiot! I told all of you a thousand times before: We cannot defeat Diomedes if we lack a single person on this team," Kendra snarls, her brown eyes fierce and blazing.

"Save your strength, Kendra," I tell her. "If you continue to hold the barrier against the storm, you might not have enough magic to battle Diomedes."

"Well, I am certainly not releasing the barrier till you get up."

"I – can't," I say through gritted teeth. "I may have underestimated the severity of the wound."

Kendra stamps her feet, kicking a flurry of snow into my eyes and making her hood tumble back. "Idiot," she hisses, stamping her way towards me.

She crouches onto the ground and places both hands on me, one supporting my shoulder and the other on my ribcage, where the wound should be. "I knew that Diomedes had cast some sort of spell when he'd speared you with that shadow," Kendra murmurs, hair clouding her eyes. "I could sense it. Did you really think I was that stupid?"

I don't answer, grunting in return when the beast inside me rears up and roars throughout me.

"I won't heal the wound. Not until we get out of these Pietists-forsaken mountains and to a proper town." Kendra casts a look over her shoulder. "No offense," she directs towards the Ravürkian warrior.

"None taken," Luise replies stoically. The vibrant blue tattoos on her face almost seem to glow, intricately patterned for the seasoned fighter that she is.

Kendra returns her attention towards me. "Hubert, that wound is a link towards Diomedes," she says. "The closer we get to him, the more painful it will feel."

As if it's not painful enough already, I think but don't say out loud.

"I'll only be soothing the pain," she continues. "Hubert, I want you to use that link and guide us towards Diomedes."

I blink. "Come again?"

"Take us straight to Diomedes. My magic is currently being...interfered with in this snowstorm. No shadows around for me to track. I can only rely on my knife so much. But you... You can lead us directly to him."

That's right. Kendra is a Deathslayer, or something like that, in addition to being the Champion of Pst. Zorah. She'd hurriedly explained it to us two days ago, when she'd went after Diomedes with nothing but a small knife in hand.

Hard to imagine that said small knife is Miraterciel, the most powerful weapon in the world. According to legends, that is.

I don't get to argue with her as she allows her magic to seep into me.

It feels like two separate beings vying for control inside my body. Kendra's magic is soothing, crooning a lullaby that is singing comfort to my bones; Diomedes's is violent, dark, trashing against the light that has just invaded its space.

However, the temporary painkiller is enough to enable me to get onto my feet.

I stumble a bit; Isaac and Percival are already there, lending me support. I look around me; the barrier is still intact, all of my companions determined and prepared to move on.

All of us are here for a reason. Kendra had told us that when this team was first put together at the behest of the king, convinced by the witch herself, naturally. I for my Champion abilities; Isaac for his prowess and skill as a soldier; Percival as a Bane; Kendrick for his ability to establish excellent public relations; Eldric for his uncanny knack of obtaining vital information out of nowhere. The Perinian side. Meanwhile, Luise was pulled in after a mutual agreement between our leader and Ravürk's queen, Kendra claiming that we needed both Champions of War to succeed.

I still don't really see why, but I've learned not to question Kendra, even if she is a woman.

"Ready to move on?" Kendra asks, her gaze directly pinned upon me.

I nod.

"Excellent. Hubert, I'll need you to find that connection to Diomedes—"

An explosion cuts her sentence off.

Shadows edge into my vision.

Before I know it, we're surrounded in darkness.

******

A/N: Constantine is not seeing the world through Hubert's eyes, but now she is Hubert himself. Hope that sudden switch in POVs made sense! But since Constantine was Hubert in another life, it would make more sense if she became him herself...geddit? Anyway, this chapter was hella fun to write! Let me know what you think of it.

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