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[Anak'Sanamuun]

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Pain.

Pain like a thousand needles through the back of his skull.

His eyes burned, his lungs ached, his skin seared.

That is, it would sear, had he skin covering his body.

The airation bubbles swirled around him as he floated in the pale green aqueaous healing solution. He could see figures milling around outside of the tank, but in the green haze, nothing distinct could be made out. The anesthetic properties of the fluid began to take hold and he slowly slipped back into unconsciousness.
.
.
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The electric charge surged through the tank, and he cried out as his body began to absorb the magic. Hair suddenly began to grow as the pores in his skin opened. The fluid drained and the breathing mask came free. His first gulps of air were acrid, coppery, and he feared his chest would burst from the effort. The charge died down and the harness went slack. His legs were still a touch rubbery, and he struggled to stand. Undoing the harness as the tank hatch swung open, he fell into the awaiting arms of Anak'Sanamuun.

"Greetings, master. Welcome back from the land of the dead."

His head swam. He still felt weak, but with each breath, with each beat of his heart, he felt stronger. "How...how long?" Anak handed him his timepiece. Looking at it, his mouth drew tight, and he nodded. "The disease?"

"Just as you hypothisized, the elven blood added to the healing solution eradicaded any trace of it. It also regrew all of your organs as if you were at the peak of heath, including your eyes." Handing him a mirror, she smiled.

"Brown." He chuckled. "I had forgotten they were originally brown." Removing the goo-soaked wrap he began to dry himself off with the thick terrycloth sheet.

"Your armor and robes are in the chest on the table, m'lord. I took the liberty of cleaning and sharpening your sword as well as stocking a bag of reagents for you." She looked down at the floor, still beaming at her master's presence.

"Thank you, first daughter. You are a dutiful and loyal servant." He dressed in silence. The clothing and armor was old and familiar, but cleaned and pressed as if new. The arcane gloves creaked as he made fists, stretching the gloves to a skin tight fit. He drew his katana and marveled at the valorite blade. It was a pale blue mirror, that flickered from the glow of the purple power crystals. "We will need to draft a letter to the elves thanking them for thier assistance."

"Unfortunatly, m'lord, that would not be prudent." Anak handed him the stack of correspondence between the Awakening and the elves, as well as copies of her letters and responses with the elves.

"I...see." Paging through the letters, he saw the letter to Yavie. "My wife? What of her?"

"M'lord. Anna is restored, whole and fully. I believe Lady Hwesta is inhabited simply a shadow of the soul that is your General." Her mouth drew tight. "She did not even reply."

"So...how did we get the blood?" His eyes quickly scanned her arms. "You look untouched."

"We bled Alexander, the elven general out once fully" She smiled pleasently. "The rest, Zilthai gave us."

"You bled my 10 year old son?" His eye grew dark and his brow furrowed deeply.

"Have no fear, m'lord. He is in your bed recouperating. He should be fine in a week or so. We used the tank to regenerate him so he could sustain such a heavy sustained bleeding. I thought it was rather ingenious."

His hand shot out and grasped the woman around the neck. Murmuring technomantic chants, he crackled with purple lightning as he lifted her into the air. "You chanced my son's death and bled him? What if your calculations were wrong? You are no technomancer!"

Gasping for air, her voice was little more than a harsh wisper. "Master..I did it for you. I followed the pilliar of dilligence. Your life. Your existance, that is all that mattered."

With a rough shrug, he tossed her across the room like a rag doll. She struck the far wall, and the audible sound of her leg and ribs breaking clearly echoed in the laboratory. "Oh really? You chose him out of Virtue? Out of Singularity?" Purple lightning sparked between his fingers as he rounded the table between them. "If you saw my notes, then you know any elven blood would do, yes?"

She struggled to get to a sitting position. "Yes master. Any blood."

Grabbing her by the hair, he lifted her to her feet. "Then what of yours, drow?" A look of fear crossed her face. "Ah. We do remember, yes? I may have rounded your ears and bleached your skin so you could move through human and elven society without drawing attention to yourself, but you are still a Drow!"

"Forgive me master. I..." Tears of fear and pain began to un down her face. "I thought I better served you by arranging your return."

"No." Anger twisted his face into a snarl. He reached into his robe and retrived an arcane gem from one of the many hidden pockets. "You showed weakness. You knew the risk, and were unwilling to take it yourself." The small gem hovered in his hand and arcs of purple lightning jumped from it to her chest. She howled in inhuman agony as her soul was pulled from her and infused into the gem. Her ancient form, restored by technomancy rapidly aged, decayed and fell to dust in the length of a few heartbeats. Looking into the gem, he could see the shadow of Anak'Sanamuun's soul trapped in its eternal prison, like a fly in amber.

"You were a servant. It was your place to take risks. You exist to make certain I am cared for. Anything less is failure. Perhaps next time, you will remember this moment of weakness and think about your servitude more properly." He unlocked a small box, disguised as a Power Crystal, and placed the gem inside, along with the score that already sat hidden within. "A decade to reflect should suffice." He closed the box and smiled darkly.

Looking down at the pile of ash, he saw the badge of the Dark Awakening. This was the old crest, but the pin was brand new, and marked Unity's symbol as the master of the order. He had more than allies and servants. He had his brotherhood back.

Raising his hands to the heavens, he chanted a prayer of Singularity in the ancient gargish tounge. The unholy speech echoed through the remnants of Caina. The Well of Souls wailed a greeting and the white wolves of Dagger Isle howled a warning to Sosaria.

Dealthagar, Technocrat Primus of Sosaria, walked the world once again.