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[Dealthagar]

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Dealthagar wathed as the dark purple skinned elf/fairy paced the length of his private torture chamber her rage and anger fully surfaced. "So all I did, all of it was for nothing? All my suffering was meaningless?"

He had been watching her emotions, and had been waiting for this question. "Meaningless? Without purpose? Tell me priestess, why do we Suffer?"

She paused in her tracks. He smiled as her shoulders shook in rage. "We Suffer for we are the walkers of the Path of Oblivion. It leads us to the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

Her shoulders fell. "That everything is meaningless. Oblivion devours all."

Dealthagar nodded slowly. "So what did you learn from all of this?"

Solanaceae's delicate hands clentched into fists and quivvered as her nails bit deep into her palms. "Hate. I finally know Hate."

He crossed the room, turned her to face him and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hate. It is the fire in our chest, that which drives us, urges us forward, keeps us moving ever onward to the end." He kissed her forehead. "And now the fire burns inside of you."

She turned away, tearing herself from his fatherly grasp. "I don't like it." She paused, her face twisted in anger, before blurting out. "I want him dead! I want to tear out his heart and feed on it! I want to rip him to shreds and let my spiders chew on his still living flesh!"

"That's good. Let it out. Use it. Feel it." He smiled, watching the colors of rage, hatred and bitterness dance in her aura. "You want to destroy. You want to use that primal anger, that base power, and inflict yourself on something."

"Yes. If i cannot kill him, I want to break something. Destroy something."

The Herald chuckled. "Then I have a task for you, my apprentice. Complete this, using all that you have suffered, using all your rage and all your hate...and I shall elevate you."

She sighed, her mouth tight. "What must I do?"

"Are you familiar with the eight shrines of the virtues in Trammel..."
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Solanaceae]

---

The heart. Solanaceae glared at the stone symbol, hate rising in her chest. Compassion. It was foolishness such as this that caused all of her suffering, compassion for a baby stolen from her family, compassion for the mother pining for her child’s safe return. Why couldn’t she purge herself of this useless emotion, why couldn’t she just stop feeling, stop caring? The Herald had said she was a creature of passion, of emotion. Solanaceae supposed that was unfortunately true, even more so now with the Matron’s blood running through her. Her suffering made her stronger, he reminded her, added to her sight.

Yet no power had helped the Seer fortell what was coming this night. No power allowed her to be prepared to be called into the presence of the Lich Lord and find Gorhun, the creature she hated most, standing there by his side like an honored ally. The whole situation made her sick, the betrayal, the Lich Lord mocking her faith right there in front of the hated one, the drow criminal’s face as he smiled at her, enjoying her rage. How she wished she could tear Gorhun’s heart out right there in the Lich Lord’s court, feeling it wet and warm, pulsing in her hand. How she fantasized ripping him apart like leaves in a furious wind and feeding the worthless man to her spiders, a sacrifice to Lloth. Now she had to treat the criminal respectfully, swallow her hate…

For now… until he displeased his protector, until he lost favor.

Perhaps, she considered, if she proved herself to the Lich Lord, to the Ancients, proved herself as more useful than the criminal… Perhaps on that the blessed day when Grohun was revealed to be the enemy of the Order she was sure he truly was Darrien Church would give the drow to her, to destroy for her pleasure. She nodded inwardly to herself.

Yes. This was the answer. Solanaceae would serve with diligence and ferver, giving all she had to serve the will of the Lich Lord, the will of the Herald. All she had to serve the Path of Oblivion. She would lie, kill, torture, destroy, she would even give into the madness, if for no other reason that one day as payment for her service she might be given the honor of sending the hated one onto Oblivion. She laughed, a harsh, cold sound that erupted from her core, chasing away the gentle voice that had comforted a lost drow child for 100 years. Solanaceae would wait, wait until the criminal made a mistake, was caught working against the Order, then…then she would receive her deepest hearts desire. Gorhun would be punished like no other. He would learn the meaning of Suffering. She would see to it.

A wave of her hand, another, and the two entropic whirlwinds cleared away the creatures moving up on her location, so she could return to the task she’d been given. The shrines were protected by a magic stronger than her own, making them impossible to break. Determination and the need to vent her rage had given her reason to seek out ways to desecrate their purpose, to weaken their power for a time.

Sacrifice had been easy, a generous slathering of fish guts and cow organs had lured vermin from every hiding place to gorge there, leaving behind their own offerings of disease and parasites to infest the shrine. Even under to cool rains the filth coating the teardrop till it was unrecognizable beneath their gifts of gluttony. She’d watched in delight as Honor became a gambling place. Bandits and scoundrels, responding to her promise of rare trinkets and much gold to the winners and endless drink, claimed the shrine. After hours of vice and bloodshed, in which unspeakable acts of carnal lust and violence were performed even upon the sacred ankh itself, the shrine was left in ruins.

The rest, like the first two had been amusing, but far from satisfying. The open hand of Honesty and its companion ankh lay covered in names written in phosphorescent mushroom ink and bond with her own dark fae dust to seal the script from the snow. The names served as a physical reminder of allies betrayed and families torn apart through deception and self-serving half truths. When she’d left the shepherd’s crook, the mountainous arms cradling the Humility shrine echoed with the magically recorded voices of the Lightbringers. Over and over their boasts about glory days long past rung out into the air, drowning out all other sound. Within the inner circle of the sacred ankh at the shine of Justice, hung a set of golden scales locked with a binding spell. One side of the scales was filled with gold magically glued to the bowl weighing that side down, while in the other bowl rose a human heart in their air, symbol of the valuelessness of life in the face of greed.

The bodies of an elderly priest and two young acolytes of the churches of light lay prostrate across the shrine on Spirituality, their eyes locked in endless illusions as the hallucinogenic effects of the low dose of Solanaceae’s blood slowly carried them to their deaths in a wave of madness. Valor had been more of a challenge for it had been the first shrine to face her hate obsessed release. In her frustration and rage she’d wanted to smash the ankh to pieces, but try as she might she could not scratch the surface of the shrine’s protection. In the end she lured two drunkards to the shrine with promises of pleasure, and then set several shambling beasts made of compost and thorns upon them. Upon the great sword the men sobbed and begged for life, promising anything if she would only spare them. They died as cowards, left to hang from the twin banners as an offering to Oblivion.

Solanaceae’s thoughts returned to the shrine before her. Compassion. This shrine was a special task for her, for of all the virtues she knew Compassion the most intimately, knew it and despised it. Compassion was last weakness she wished to purge. If she was to believe the Herald, which she always had, Compassion was a weakness that she must live with, a weakness and would ultimately bring her power and sight unlike any she had ever known. This last task would be her dedication to that suffering, her masterpiece.

Footsteps crunched through new spring grass lightly coated with early morning frost. The sun was just starting to rise, its light causing her skin to sting. Solanaceae embraced the pain, turning it inward until the sharp sensation made her moan with pleasure.

“Oh, don’t start without me.”

Solanaceae painted a seductive smile on her face before she turned toward the voice. The man held his silver and gold embroidered helmet in his hand, his well polished armor shining in the morning light. Before the kidnapping he used to stare at Solanaceae when she visited the Blue Lotus, his desire for her exotic looks overpowering his distaste for the company she kept. A message…an invitation to come to her here…that’s all it had taken for him to leave behind his virtue, to leave behind the queen who waited from him to come home to her.

Her robe slipped from her shoulders and his gasp tore through the silence. With teasing slowness she danced, her graceful body with its newly developed curvatures easily claiming the erotic, daring him to resist her as piece by piece her armor joined the robe. A series of clatterers followed before he was suddenly there, his arms wrapping around her from behind, groping and searching hungrily.

She gave him her passion, holding back only enough to spare his human body the damage of her wildness. Hey lay beneath, crying with ecstasy, begging her to stay with him, renouncing his wife, his honor, anything if she would just be his. His mad ranting brought a smile to her face, as did the knowledge it was the toxin within her body that brought him to such height, that tore from him all reason and inhibitions.

She smile widened into a look of seer glee as at his moment of vulnerability, or weakness, she slit his throat, dragging her blade down his chest. She split open the skin to reveal the bones and tore open his ribcage, revealing the still beating heart underneath.

Solanaceae held the warm heart in her hands and laughed, laughed the laugh of the gloriously insane.

[Dealthagar]

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Dealthagar was woken by the personal ward on the Abbey. He quickly recalled, and found his apprentice wandering the hallways, covered in the blood and gore of a night's worth of mayhem. Seeing him she turned and smiled. "I have done as you asked."

"I can see that." He smiled, seeing some of the pain had softened in her aura. "Desicration always lightens my mood."

"When I found I couldn't smash anything, it seemed the next best option."

He could smell the blood, fear and sex on her. The madness was already there, and now the three drops of blood were taking root. Sensual and deadly. "You have truly earned your place this night. I will attend to making the arrangements for your acention."

She lowered her eyes and her face grew dark. "You know I did not do this for exaltation."

"I know." He smiled widely. "And that is what makes you all the more worthy of it." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, enveloping her small frame. "I will have Sularis draw you a hot bath, and turn down a bed for you."

"Thank you, master."

He released her, and guided her into the meditation room until Sularis was prepared for her. Closing the door behind her, he rubbed his chin. How to procede....
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Solanaceae]

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The green silk robe clung to Solanaceae’s damp skin, the scent of peppermint and ginger from the bath soaps hanging in the air. She breathed in the fragrance slowly, letting it fill her, calming, gentle, while she drew the carved bone comb through her tangled hair. Emotionally drained from the past week and her work at the shrines, the Herald’s offer of a place to rest at the sect manor was too enticing to pass up. It felt strange to be wearing clothing when settling in to bed, but it seemed best considering the circumstances. Ceinwyn was her friend and the last thing she wanted was for the Herald’s wife get the wrong idea when she found Solanaceae sleeping naked in a place the Herald spend most of his time.

Now bathed and comfortable in the large guest room bed, Solanaceae found she could not sleep. She fidgeted with the smooth black covers, her mind wandering to another finely crafted blanket, one that cradle the drow baby she’d tried so hard to save. Solanaceae sighed. This place, being here in Umbra, even the though of going back to her home, it was all too closely tied the everything that had happened around the kidnapping and the falling apart of the Matron’s house. Both Drayden and the Herald has empathized that they did not blame her for the failure, but she couldn’t help blaming herself. She felt so alone. For a moment, a glimmer, she’d had a family, and now…

She had to get away. She had to go someplace full of life, full of green, not tainted as the earth here tainted her garden. Even just for awhile, she needed to recharge her spirit so she could face everything she’d have to do in her service. Solanaceae’s eye caught the curve of the bone table in the room and thought about how the Herald had mentioned having holding other place, outside of Umbra. She even recalled him mention of a place in northern Malas, south of the snow lands, he’d told her, fertile land.

Perhaps the place to the north was just what she needed. She’d get a rune from the Herald’s manservant and go and see the place. Perhaps Lord Dealthagar would be generous enough to give one of his other holding if she explain her need. Solanaceae sighed. Or more likely there would be a task involved, payment for his generosity as such “favors” tended to require recompense in this place.

Making her decision, Solanaceae secured the robe around her and left the room in search of Sularis. It didn’t matter. She was so tired of being alone. Perhaps it was time for her to get away, to get to know herself again, what she wanted, what she needed, she needed to reconnect with her goddess, to be certain She hadn’t abandoned Solanaceae. She had to know.

Whatever the cost.

[Solanaceae]

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Even before the tremor of the shift between where she was and where the stone had brought her subsided, Solanaceae could feel the pull of the ley energy. She drew the cloak Sularis had given her closed, raising the hood so that as much of her skin as possible was shielded from the mid-morning sun. The house stood silent, abandoned, seeming to pull away from the more lively homes nearby in its seclusion. She knew that feeling, the need to be separate, to be alone, but at the same time not wanting to be lonely.

She reached out and felt the heat from the ley line under her feet than ran right beneath the house. The manor was nearly twice the size as the one she had on Charnel Hill, but then size wasn’t really what she was after. The plaster and stone walls were not exactly a style she liked, but one thing she’d learned from the Herald’s special brand of forced redecorating was such trivial things as outward appearance could always be altered.

The place she choose…it need to feel right. It needed to have the feel of a sanctuary, a place she could escape too when she needed. She loved her laboratory, in fact spent much of her time working with the animals and experimenting with plant and venom combinations, But she needed a place away from that life, a place untainted by the skull and Charnel Hill.

Solanaceae followed the ley energy to the lower doors and released the lock with the key Sularis had given her. She held her breath in anticipation before placing the fingers of her hand on each of the wood framed glass doors and pushing them open.

There weren’t many windows in the basement of the house, but the rich smell of well composted dirt and the coolness of the soil beneath her feet brought a smile to her face. The ley energy throbbed all around her, like the heartbeat of the land pounding in her ears. Movement caught her attention as a cluster of spider hatchlings scrambled away from the light of the open door for darker recesses in the northeast corner of the room. She breath deep the earth smell and felt the weight of weeks melt of her shoulders like ice against warm flesh.

Spiders. Youth….life. The very land hummed with the fullness of life. She closed her eyes and let herself stretch out so that he essence and that of the weave of the land merged. She could feel vibration from a nearby cluster of crustal, the ebb and flow of heartbeats and breathing, the music of life, coming from all around her. She didn’t need to see the rest of the house. That could be changed, would likely be changed, but the core of the place, it was like a womb, a womb given form by dirt and life energy.

It wasn’t hers, not yet, but a little convincing and a lot of work by a certain handy friend she knew of, this place could become all she’d dreamed up. Not she just had to discover the price she’d have to pay to make it her own. Her first urge was to rush to speak to the Herald, to beg him to let her have the place, promising whatever she had to give in return. Logic tickled at the back of her thoughts, reminding her than it was well into morning, and she’s already disturbed him once during his normal sleep cycle. Twice could try his patience and lose her the sanctuary. No. She would have to wait.

Disappointed, but not willing to leave this place now that she found her moments of peace here, Solanaceae settled down in a corner of the dirt floor she pulled her knees to her chest and drew the cloak around like a blanket. Propping her forearms on her knees she rest her head on her arms, knowing that at last sleep would come for her, now that she was home.