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@denali-christianson

YOU KILLED YILA?! Is she going to pull a Qatar (I will forever use that term) or is she truly dead? Either way, POOR NIAROK!

@rose-colored-fancy

You were not kidding when you said that we would loathe Chantara. I have only read two pages concerning her, and she’s already made me want to yell at her (I’m not physically strong enough to slap her so I’ll settle for a passionate shouting match).

Concerning Aydin, I love seeing the effects of his growth! And I also loved hearing compare Chantara’s reaction to his hand with Faye’s! If needed, I will eagerly whip up a ship name for those two.

@everyone

I’ve recently realized that while Khalon’s actions in the Castle were more or less accurate, his thoughts and motivations were astoundingly inaccurate. So here is an improved Khalon (improved meaning more selfish, more cold, and more conflicted XD)

KHALON 2.0

There were two dragons now; one laying dead and one advancing.

“What is your goal? Identify it and act upon it,” I heard Master Branton’s voice asking me. I quickly surveyed the situation once more. Yila would probably not live much longer, and Niarok was unconcious. (I know that he’s not supposed to know their names, but I’m too lazy right now to come up with accurate nicknames) I felt a pang of pity for Yila, but checked it before it could spur me on to action.

“People will die, and some will have to be left behind. Despite that, keep your mission first and foremost or more will die,” Master Branton’s voice reminded me.

I looked away from them. What is the mission? Get away from these beasts preferably with all limbs remaining attached and with my blood staying within me. I scanned the room. There was a door on the far end. That was my way out. The rest of the people were scattered throughout the room. Some were freeing the captives while others lingered behind, unsure of what to do.

The second dragon was rapidly making its way toward its fallen friend. Remembering how easily Niarok’s arrow had killed the first dragon, I grabbed his bow and quiver from his stiff hands. “Does anyone have decently accurate aim? If so, take these and shoot down that…dragon,” I called out to anyone who was listening. I propped them up against the walls so that they could be easily accessed. I didn’t dare try to shoot since there was a greater chance of me missing than hitting my mark.

As I edged past the dragon, I saw the Cloaked Man (Lorcan) bend over Yila’s burnt body with a look of hopeless pain, and for a moment I glimpsed Mother and Father standing behind him. Their hands were on his shoulders, shifting some of his pain onto themselves so that he would not have to bear it alone. Mother raised her downcast eyes. They were overflowing with a love that was nearly tangible. “Comfort him my son,” she whispered. “Share his burden.” I blinked hard. Mother and Father weren’t there. It was Lorcan alone who was mourning, and alone he would stay. I kept my eyes focused on the door ahead of me, staring so hard that my eyes burned. With a determined step, I walked towards the door.

“Good man, Khalon,” Master Branton’s praise echoed within me. “It’s hard, but the mission first and foremost. Be strong.”

I was almost to the door. Then I made the mistake of glancing towards the prisoners. Aydin, Liorah, and four others were ripping off their chains with great reluctance. It seemed as though the prisoners were enemies to all here. Conroy glanced lazily at me. He shifted his position so that I could see his chains better. He watched me expectantly. The arrogant fool. I turned my back on him. I would not risk my life to save him.

I paused, instinctively waiting for a memory of Master Branton to assure me that what I was doing was right. Instead, a memory of Father delivering some of our crops to Cecil surfaced. I gritted my teeth. Why did I have to think of this now? I glanced behind me. Conroy still lounged on the floor, waiting for me to rescue him. Master Branton would not want me to rescue that insolent priest.

“We want you to,” Mother’s and Father’s voices told me. Another memory came to me. Mother and Father’s final words before I left, “We love you Khalon, remember that. Now go and show that love to everyone you meet.”

I rubbed my head as if to rid myself of these thoughts. If that was my intent, I failed. I rushed toward the door, trying to outrun the chains that were slowing wrapping themselves around my heart. With each step, my heart grew heavier. I stopped abruptly. I couldn’t. I couldn’t continue like this. I had been able to dodge this weight before, but not this time. With a groan of frustration, I marched toward Conroy. Though my heart was still lead within me, it did not weigh me down as much.

I reached Conroy. I took of the pin on my cloak that identified me as a Blessed and began to jiggle the lock on Conroy’s chains. It was a simple one and soon opened. With a grimace, Conroy rolled his wrist.

“That’s m-much b-better,” he stuttered. He stood and stretched. “It t-took you long enough. I was worried that you m-might leave me.”

“Don’t mention it,” I growled.

He tisked. “If you insist, b-but one good t-turn deserves another.”

“Oh, and what might that ‘good turn’ be?”

He stroked his chin mockingly. He snapped his fingers. “I know! I’ll d-delay t-telling of your treachery! Say, maybe for a c-couple months or so. Generous of me, no?”

I smiled grimly. “You know Conroy, seeing that there aren’t any other priests around, and it will be your word against mine, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to do.” Before he could react, I shoved him against the wall and slapped him across his face. Though I would have preferred to unleash more of my emotions, I decided to hold back. I bruised face would work in his favor if he tattled.