To say I was moderately confused when I awoke was an understatement. My head pounded something awful, and my ankle was a stiff, swollen pain that objected with every slight movement I made.

And my ribs. Each breath made me wish I could be completely and utterly erased from existence.

A groan forced its way passed my lips before I had the chance to open my eyes. It was almost uncanny, waking up in a strange bed in a place I'd never been in before yet again. I hoped this wasn't going to become the new normal for me.

"For a woman old enough to be in her prime, you still very much act like a nineteen year old," clipped a very blunt, very annoyed Bonosoli, who sat next to the bed I laid on. "I am glad to see that necklace of yours only prevents you from dying. You can still have some semblance of sense knocked into you when needed."

Stifling back a yawn, I turned my head away, closing my eyes.

"Why are you here?"

I could feel the runkist's eyes study me. At long last, she sighed.

"You've gotten yourself into quite the mess." Then, when I didn't say anything, I heard her shift in her seat. "You fought Adria's Dream again."

"I told you last time. Rhoe is behind the attacks," I muttered.

"I know." Spoken in a whisper, as if it was something she didn't want to admit. Well, I certainly wasn't expecting that. I opened my eyes, heaving a a pained breath when I forced myself into a sitting position so that I could properly look at the ageless woman.

"You know?" I snapped. "And how long have you known, dare I ask?"

She passed a hand over her face, pulling her dark brown curls behind herself. "A few months."

"A few months?" I repeated. "You mean to say that after years of me trying to warn you that she's something more than a simple nightmare sent to plague me, you've finally come to the conclusion that I'm right months ago?"

"Wrenva-" she began. With just us two in the small, homely room, I had no issue cutting her off.

"She planted a demon in my head!" If I didn't know any better, Bonosoli nearly flinched. "Do you have any idea what it's like, to never know which thought is yours or that gods-forsaken creature? To spend over a decade dreaming about dying and being torn apart by your own flesh and blood only to suddenly find out weeks ago that every little thing you're feeling is real - that you now get to spend your nights waking up to cuts and bruises and fractured bones because the nightmares are fucking real?"

"You had an obligation," Bonosoli met evenly, her face a cold, emotionless mask - a mask I could see right through. "You should have reported the traver long before it awoke."

I started to scoff out a laugh at this, but then winced when my ribs reminded me that laughing was not a good idea.

"For what?" I challenged. "So that you or the council could decide if I should die by liquid fire or buried alive in paralyzing beetles?"

"You are lucky they decided not to do just that to make an example," she pointed out. "If you had dealt with it then, we would not be trying to figure out what escaped the nymphtan's alter." She tilted her head. "So many more people would be alive."

She said it so plainly, as if she meant to make a casual remark about the weather. I clenched my jaw, tearing my eyes away from her face.

"Forgive me if I was not willing to give the Circle four thousand years of my existence at the time," I remarked softly. "That is how the rates are, yes?" I briefly glanced at her. "One century per contract that remains unfinished should I die."

"You knew the risk when you changed your oath." Then, before I could object, Bonosoli shook her head. "I did not come here to quarrel with you, Wrenva."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because the Council does not like to be made a fool." She stood at this, pulling her chair aside so that she had room to look out a small, square window at the foot of my bed. "You did not stop the nymphtan on the grounds that no one asked for your aid. You kept to yourself because you were hoping it would reflect on the Circle."

This was one of those situations where no matter what I said, there would be no denying her claim - not plausibly - so I remained silent for a few moments.

"You're just as bad as Bogdan," I said lowly, glancing down at my torn, calloused hands.

"Oh?" She remained staring out the window.

"They don't know, do they? You didn't tell the Council."

My mentor laughed softly at this. It was not a very joyous sound.

"Pyre is over four centuries old. I am sure he suspects." She paused. "Or maybe he doesn't. He comes from a time where it was never a thought to betray the Circle."

"Then why haven't you told him?"

She turned her face towards me, regarding me with those dark, calculating eyes of hers.

"I let people die," I elaborated. "You did not spare me out of compassion. What do you want, Frenza?"

Bonosoli did not bother trying to deny my statement; she merely gave a curt nod of her head before facing the window.

"When I found that Rhoe was indeed growing past the strength of a ravkin, it was at the expense of Marl Czekenbur. Do you remember him?"

"I do," I replied slowly. "He was your apprentice before me."

"Yes, by thirty years. Do you want to know who died before him?"

I didn't particularly care - people died all the time - but I kept my mouth shut, waiting for her to continue.

"Lok of Ausreigh - my apprentice before Czekenbur. Both men died under my company in broad daylight. They came to me not long after their wayguards went missing, claiming that they were taken. Imagine my surprise when they stopped mid-sentence, noses beginning to bleed, and tore out their own throats."

"How do you know that was Rhoe?"

"I found this on Lok's body," she reached inside her robe, retrieving an object small enough to fit in an enclosed hand before tossing it in my direction. I caught it, confused, until I saw what it was: a silvery brooch in the shape of a standard leaf, its delicate details as unblemished and clear as it was when I first got it two decades ago.

Was this truly the same one? Frowning, I turned the brooch over, examining the little metal clip in the back. This couldn't possibly . . .

I swore, noting the three little markings carved behind the clip. Three ancient letters from a tongue few knew, a tongue of an ancestor the rest of the world had long forgotten until recently. Oh, this was my brooch, alright. Where the hell did Rhoe get this? I'd thought it got lost when . . .

"Well, fuck," I muttered, then shook my head. "What does this have to do with you sparing me from Circle justice?"

"Think, Wrenva," Bonosoli glanced over at me. "Lok and Marl had nothing to do with what happened between you and Rhoe-"

"Between the Circle and Rhoe," I corrected. The woman acted as if she didn't hear me.

"She won't stop with you. On the contrary, I believe she is hunting others while she waits to dispose of you."

"You're telling me things I already know," I grumbled. "She has packs of grayvers, Adria's Dream, and the gods know what else at her beck and call-"

"I need you to go back to the underworld."

"-and you are out of your damn mind," I retorted without missing a beat. I gestured to the lone door that presumably lead to the rest of the house. "Did you miss the whole part about the traver back there?"

"That is precisely why I think you should go."

"No," I shook my head, suddenly reminded about the strange things going on within the wayfolds.

"You are the only one alive today that has gone there and back," Bonosoli argued.

"That is not true. What about Niev? Or Volman?"

"Both dead," Bonosoli replied as a matter of fact. "Like my apprentices."

"Fuck," I hissed, making a face at the sharp pain that shot up my ribs. "I don't assume you just want me to stick to the first layer, either?"

"This is non-negotiable, Wrenva," my mentor said, her voice suddenly cold. "Something was released into the world when you went to the nymphtan's den. Every Circle-Bounded person and more felt it. We have enough problems with Rhoe having the ability to kill erlas through the control of their wayguards. I am not asking you to go against it," she added when she saw that I was about to object. "I need you to retrieve an artifact that would assist us in either fight."

"And just what might that be, exactly?"

"Sarafina's Penchant."

". . . You mean the necklace of Chros's long-dead daughter? The one the gods made mortal because she wanted to merge the realms together? That penchant?"

Again, there was that curt nod. I scoffed.

"You want me to steal from a fucking death god?" And not just any old god, oh no, this happened to be the one that was already pissed at me for some reason. "What happened to, 'duty-bound to serve solely the will of the gods'?"

"If you decide to go about it through stealing, then that is on you."

"I hardly doubt Chros will willingly give me a necklace that allows mortals to control the dead and dying."

"Figure it out," she said, eyes hard and unwavering. "But that is the only way I can think of to stop Rhoe."

"Do you have any idea what sort of wrath-"

"I do."

I didn't think she did, so I said it, anyway.

"If you use a necklace from Chros to completely obliterate a servant of Andemin, you will start a war." There was a reason ravkins were pretty much untouchable.

"If the god of ruin has allowed his servant to gain as much control as she has, he is already plotting one."

I didn't like that particular observation one bit.

"You think I would willingly put myself between the god of death and the god of ruin?"

"Wrenva, you're smarter than this. You caught Refyra's attention. Do you truly believe you are outside of something grand?"

"Frenza, I just want out." It wasn't at all my intention for my voice to crack, or for my mentor to see just how worn I had become. I was desperate, sure - desperate to convince her that sending me to the underworld was a bad idea, and that killing Rhoe was not an option. The ravkin was getting out of control. I knew this. But I also knew that everything she did was my fault.

I couldn't kill her again. I just couldn't.

A flash of what looked like pity momentarily softened Bonosoli's face.

"The only way out is through." She sighed. "I can offer you solace, however. Even if you should die on this quest, you will be relieved from your oath. You will be made to settle whatever debt you've accrued, but you will no longer have one with the Circle."

There was a brief round of silence at the last of her words. I wasn't sure if I should be ecstatic or pissed; on one hand, I wouldn't have to worry about serving the Circle for a century if I died. On the other, I was being forced to go to a place that ensured absolutely no chance of survival.

"I might as well just kill myself there, then," I said, knowing full well that my mentor hated dark humor. "Spare us all the trouble. Tell me, Frenza, was this your idea or theirs'?"

She stared at me, her face giving away little.

"You know, I often wondered why you chose your name as you did." She started walking to the door. "Was it an opposition to my own, or do you truly believe yourself to be so incredibly cursed?"

I scoffed when her hand skimmed over the doorknob. Her reluctance to answer me told me all I needed to know.

"Just one more thing," I said. "How do you expect me to do anything like this?" I gestured to my battered body. Bonosoli did not even spare me a glance when she opened the door.

"Have Bogdan tend to you."

The way she said it made me wonder if she knew what happened the last time Bogdan decided to unleash his healing abilities on my arm. I groaned. What fun times, indeed.

~ 2161 Words ~