For Shadow (Saby)

Things were not going according to plan.

When Galen rode into Alrusa hours ago, the sky was as clear as a virgin’s conscience. The wind whispered no prophecy of the blizzard to come. The soothsayers ushered treacherous lies of a mild winter for weeks to come. For that, Al` Hadesh was going to disembowel an acolyte of Hetar. He was not a man very tolerant of being lied to, regardless of the celestial station of the serpent uttering untruths. Galen’s time was very valuable, and this delay was not a billable expense. The blood of the followers of the infidel god of the skies would have to reimburse the mercenary for this inconvenience.

The first week of winter had passed with little more than frost across the Nessic region, but the sky splintered into frozen wrath mere minutes after Galen’s arrival at the merchants’ hub. By the time he admitted his horse to the stables, the snowdrifts had buried the sculpted rocks that surrounded the town and the man was stranded in the outpost overnight. One option was left to the contract agent; he had to take refuse in the tavern and seek a bed for the night.

And possibly someone to warm it, as well, least he vent his frustration by granting his dagger an intimate introduction to the gut of the first wretch to offend Galen.

Thus it was inevitable that the tall and darkly clad man found himself sitting before a glass with a generous serving of a crimson liquid as he surveyed his surroundings with professional interest. A soldier learns to be aware of all exits, a predator knew instinctively to keep his prey in sight. Galen was both of these things, and many more. The overlooked knife was the one that found itself sliding surely in the negligent rib to take purchase in the heart. Of course, not all weapons were so easy to detect. Feminine wiles could be as lethal as the gaze of the Basilisk.

“Another,” the order came naturally from the blond, though it spoke with the voice of the long departed. In another life he was a leader, now he was simply a man as easily bought and sold as the bottles clinking around him in the dimly lit tavern. “A bed for the night, and the latest news.” The gold coin flipping onto the bar punctuated the man’s brief commands, and his attention was once again on the exits and the patrons of The Ginger Wench.

Sabine stared up at the sign which read, “The Ginger Wench” hung over the door of a building that looked as if one strong wind would blow it over. Glancing down at herself she let out a deep sigh, her cloak was completely drenched. Even her feet were soaked inside her leather boots. It was just her luck that she would choose to travel and it would snow. If she believed in any god she would be cursing them.

With a shake of her head she warily approached the door, looking in all directions for anyone that might recognize her before gingerly opening the door. The door slamming shut behind her with a loud bang made her jolt, berating herself silently in her head with her eyes firmly on the ground she carefully made her way toward the bar. Placing herself on an empty bar stool the delicate female took the chance to lower her hood and allow her thankfully dry silvery tresses to cascade down her slender neck and back. Peeking from the corner of her eyes she noticed men on either side of her, her body instantly tensed.

“Anything warm,” she mumbles to the bartender when he approaches her. “Also, a room if you have one.”

Spinning the drink between her hands slowly to warm them her thoughts turn to where they always seem to, her demons that always follow her. The once proud Sabine Soulis now reduced to stealing just to have somewhere to sleep at night and food to put in her stomach. Stealing wasn't the worst of it. She'd even fallen low enough to sell her lithe body for a few coppers. She had no family or friends to speak of and it appeared as though all the gods had simply given up on her, not that she could really blame them when she'd given up on them in turn.

A deep almost rumbling voice down the bar pulls Sabine out of her downward spiral. She can't stop herself from softly laughing, something she hasn't done in quite some time, nor can she stop herself from commenting.

“One should never ask for news unless they are prepared for bad.”

Her face heats up with a blush that must be obvious with her fair complexion. With her head bent down she hopes that she will be ignored like most women, though her luck has never been that good.

Galen noticed the girl the moment she entered the dingy establishment, of course. A less experienced man would not be able to isolate what it was about her that drew such hungry gazes from the wolves in men’s clothing. To a creature of the hunt, it was impossible to miss. He took note of her tentative gait with relish; a predator knows the look of a wounded prey. This morsel broken, he could see that. He could damn near smell it radiating off her.
She had a tragic story, no doubt. They all did.

Al` Hadesh didn’t care about her story. He cared about the luster of her flesh, how soft and warm it looked. He cared about the silver silk, and how smooth it would glide between his fingers. Galen could almost feel it; he could nearly taste her skin. Blood would not sate this lust. Only one thing would. She ordered something warm, he could satisfy that request.

Yet Galen had a job to do. There was the plan. He was a professional, first and foremost. He could contain his urges. He would not jeopardize his progress. Then he heard her laugh, the unbidden song of siren finding its voice. He wasn’t going to accomplish much in the name of his employer stuck in this hovel, and it had been so long since he had some fun.

“Night like tonight, the place fills up fast. I ‘ave one bed left. The lass, “The barkeep paused to nod in her direction, speaking up so she could hear him as well “you two work out amongst yourselves who gets it. The price is two silvers a night, and it’ll be three coppers if you’ll be wanting breakfast in the morn.” Having named his terms, the stout man deposited a drink in front of Galen and the delicious damsel before moving on to tend to other patrons.

“Well, this is unfortunate.” Galen stated with a smirk that said no such thing. “Shall we get a table to discuss the matter?” When it came to chasing prey, Al` Hadesh was a weapon forged from the fires of pain and despair. Man, woman, or beast – Galen knew the art of the hunt.

Feeling eyes upon her she looked down the bar as stealthily as she was able and saw that it was the man that had spoken. Perfect, just what she didn't need. Male attention was not what she desired nor needed. All Sabine had wanted was a nice, comfortable bed to fall into where she could forget everything for a while. One day she would learn to stop entering taverns, one day.

Sabine had just taken a drink and almost spit the liquid out at the barkeep's words. Clearing her throat she went to respond but the man had already moved down the bar. Switching her violet eyes over to the stranger, her lip curls at his words. No, luck was not on her side.

Allowing herself a moment to study him she can't help but notice that he is in fact very easy on the eyes, shame for him as she's never liked that in a man. She learned long ago that a beautiful face always means an ugly heart. As her gaze climbs back up his body Sabine strategically crosses her legs and turns to face him, letting the dagger strapped to her thigh glint in the dim tavern light. A silent threat. Finally, reaching his eyes she nearly glares but can't find it in herself to be surprised at what she sees there, staring back at her are a killer's eyes. She would recognize it anywhere, she's seen it staring back at her enough.

“Discussion?” she nearly hisses. “You presume too much, Sire. We shall not be getting a table and there will certainly be no discussion. I would not share a bed with you even if you paid me though I highly doubt you could afford me.”

Sabine lets out a huff and straightens back up on the stool, noticing that she had leaned toward the arrogant scoundrel without even realizing it. That was just like a male, always believing that women are dying to jump into bed with them. Not her. That was one path she would never be traveling down again.

The broken girl had sharp edges.

Galen had not, in fact, been planning on sharing the bed, or even offering the option. The women served to whet his appetite, but she appeared too delicate to able to service the desires of the warrior. A barmaid or drunken wench would have sufficed for that, someone he could ravage fiercely without concern or second thought. He liked the way she looked, but it took a certain sturdiness to entertain his fancies. Quite simply, Galen did not think this little vixen had it in her.

Perhaps it was time for a second appraisal.

The dagger had been noticed, of course, prior to her calculated shift to draw attention to it. This did not frighten the man, but instead excited him. If there was one leaf that Galen retained from the long burned book of his past life, it was his love of a challenge. Her lips curled in defiance, but her stance leaned in invitation. He knew nothing of her thoughts or feelings; he was not versed in the ways of people. He knew the language of her body, however. Movement, or the lack of, proved that man and mer were still animals, too.

Hearing her words, Galen knew he had been wrong about her. She had fight. She might even have enough to amuse him through the long, cold night.

“As you wish. I simply wished to negotiate which of us would get the room, but if that’s the way you feel then I will simply take the room.” Al` Hadesh again tossed a gold coin onto the bar, nodding to the barman to signal the decision was made. “More. And another drink for the…lady.” Commanded the predator and he moved to cross the tavern, having chosen a table despite his apparently lack of company.

“Enjoy the cold, miss –“ It was a clichéd move, but Galen was not one for innovation. If it worked, then who was he to go against the tried and tested? Trying new things had never done him in any favors in this life or the other. Instinct would drive her to provide a name, which would bring her one step closer to where he wanted her. And, should she choose to be difficult, that just made her that much more desirable.

Sabine could feel the lust rolling off of the stranger in waves, making her stomach knot painfully. Deep down every woman wanted to be wanted, she had to fight back the pleasure at her effect on him. She wasn't completely oblivious, she knew what her assets were and had never been above using them to her advantage. Perhaps she could call on those weapons now and manage to come out on top in the end.

At his next words the outraged woman immediately gets to her feet, knowing that he was lying. With arms crossed tightly over her chest she follows after him with every intention of calling him out. When he comes to a stop at a table Sabine nearly collides right into him but thankfully stops herself just in time. It takes her a moment to answer his inquiry when she realizes just how far she has to look up in order to meet his eyes. Refusing to be intimidated by his much larger size and also ignoring the pain in her neck from craning her neck so far back she glares up at him.

“Malina. I know full well that you never had any intention of giving that room to me. Only a true gentleman would do that and I can tell that you, Sire, are no gentlemen,” she practically growls at him.

Giving her mother's name was risky even in a place like Alrusa where no one would recognize it. It wasn't as if she could have given her own however, for all Sabine knew he might be working for one of her enemies. It would not be the first time a man had attempted to seduce her only so that he could kill her. One of the many reasons on the ever growing list of why she despised and mistrusted men. They never thought of the consequences of their actions when it came to the more delicate of the genders nor did they care.

Malina, that was a name that came easily to the tongue. A strong name, yet still feminine, it was the kind of name that one would expect for a champion of the gods. Then again, the same could easily be said of Galen. Names held potential, but not prophecy.

“Malina, you say? Of course I would not have simply given you the room; it is freezing and I am a creature of comfort. I would have been willing to relinquish it you, however, for a price.” That had been a lie, but that was also before she shifted in his hungry gaze from a chase to a meal. He would have been happy to tear through her defenses, forcing her to bargain to stave off the cold desolation of the night, and then take the room in spite of her offerings as a trophy. To add insult to injury, it would have been one of the ginger wenches to join him behind the comfort of a closed door.

It would have been the kinder fate for her, had she not revealed herself as a fiery little sprite beneath her frail exterior. Galen still was not sure that she would shatter under his passion, but he suspected he could feel the bite of her edges long before she reached that point. A chase was all well and good, but there was nothing like the thrill of a fight.

Galen let his mind wander down that lusty trail and downed the crimson liquid. The savory warmth dulled the edges of his frustration with being stranded for the night. He could make up the lost time. He could not, however, make up for the lost opportunity should his quarry evade him.

This thought shook Al` Hadesh, and he signaled for another drink to calm his suddenly ignited nerves. The specter of a man long dead chided the hunter for his savage intentions. The animal within growled at the intruder, but his primitive desires could not drown out the cascading guilt. She was a person, not an animal. He was not an animal. Not yet.

“You and I have no use for gentlemen. You have more beneath your belt than any gentlemen.” Galen nodded to the blade to make his meaning clear, the alcohol dimming his ability to resist the whispers of the past. “Take the room. Beasts belong out in the cold.”

The sound of her mother's name rolling off of his tongue in that way instead of her own bothered her for reasons she didn't understand. For the first time in many years she had to resist telling him her true name, a man that she knew nothing about. A man that had given her no reason to trust him. Yet, that didn't stop her from wanting to hear him say her name just once.

Sabine didn't believe what he said for a second. She knew for a certainty there was no way, no matter how much she paid him, that she would get the room. With a shake of her head the agitated female looked down at the floor, she would never understand why men felt the need to lie. She might have found some respect for him if he would have been honest with her. Not much respect but some was better than none.

When the silence seemed to stretch on for longer than she expected, she had thought he would continue to spout his lies for quite some time, Sabine took the chance and looked back up at him. What she saw nearly made her gasp out loud. It would seem she was not the only one with demons. It seemed as though he wasn't even aware of where he was, she knew what that felt like. She'd been pulled into the past many times. Did he have ghosts that hounded him everywhere he went like her? If there was one thing she had learned for a certainty it was that you could run but whatever haunted you would be right there waiting for you when you stopped.

His voice surprised her, as lost in her thoughts as she had been. Blushing only slightly at the comment about her blade. What he said next shook her to the very core. Sabine prided herself on knowing how people would react, this man had thrown her totally off balance with only nine words. Her right arm shot out, her elegant hand coming to rest on his forearm before she could think about what she was doing.

“Tis freezing, you would not last the night,” she says with conviction. With a slight smile she reaches up with her free hand and gently wipes a bit of the crimson liquid away from the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “Besides, you would not leave a lady without the courtesy of your name when you know hers, would you?”

Galen felt a momentary falling sensation, as if the ground had shifted out from underneath him. His sudden change in behavior, and her own, was just a piece of the puzzle that dissembled his reality. Something dead or slumbering within him had emerged. He knew not what awakened or resurrected the shade, but it was a disconcerting notion to find his world shifting.

“Nor do we have use for a lady.” The words flowed from the man in spite of his shock. Her touch, so tender and warm despite her earlier glacial demeanor, stirred strange emotions within him. It had been years since he felt anything so free of the filth of perversion and bloodshed. She awoke a shadow of civility from the slayer. She brought back to him an awareness than he had nearly forgotten ever having.

“They call me Galen.” He had another name, once, in the time before. It came back to him slowly, like the fog of a dream lifting in the hours of dawn. The Beast, that was who he was now. Al` Hadesh, he was of death. Few knew the dying language, and Galen knew only the meaning of his name. The old name evaded him, but perhaps it would come to him in time.

Galen reached for his drink with his free hand and paused. His hesitance was for two reasons. Firstly, he realized that his other hand was resting on Malina’s and he did not recall having placed it there. That minor lapse was dwarfed however, by his sudden fixation on the red liquid in the glass before him. He ordered the same drink, always the same drink. It was a deeper red, dark and thick as blood. This concoction was lighter, stronger, and he could not identify the tart taste.

Another puzzle fell into the place. It had to have been the new drink that inspired this reemergence of the phantom from before. Galen never deviated from his routine; it had to be the drink. The barkeep knew. Galen would figure out exactly how much the man knew, and what his intentions were, but such revelations would have to wait. For he would not waste this rediscovered clarity for fear it would leave him forever should he squander it.

“That dagger may turn one drunkard away from you, but what would you do if he was not alone?” Obsidian eyes twinkled in the direction of the table behind Malina and to the his right, where a group of men swayed in drunken rhythm and leered. Whether it was man or beast that spoke, Galen did not know, but he found himself feeling oddly protective of the girl. Or maybe he was simply feeling possessive. The reality was likely a blending of the two, interest from both the man and the beast.

Sabine studied the man who seemed to still be at war within himself. Perhaps it had been her touch that had disconcerted him so, yet she could not bring herself to step away. Especially when his much larger hand covered her own. She didn't even think he realized what he had done.

No, there was no need for her to pretend at being a lady. Though Sabine was many things a lady was not one of them. In a time she had nearly forgotten completely she might have been but those days were lost to her. A part of her remembered wearing fine dresses of rare fabrics, servants heeding her every command and suitors all clamoring to get just a word from her lips. With a shake of her head she banished those unwelcome memories back to the past where they belonged.

Galen.

She found herself saying his name over and over again in her mind. Looking up into his gaze Sabine knew it was truly his name, the stab of guilt that pierced her at not granting him the same kindness nearly took her breath away. One simple rule: don't ever get close to anyone. This man, Galen, was slowly making her forget that. Feelings of confusion and vulnerability almost engulfed her until he spoke again. His words sending a spike of icy panic down her spine before she forced herself to regain composure.

The diminutive female slowly took a step closer to Galen, her body dangerously close to his own and her grip on his arm tightening convulsively. If anyone were to look over at the two they would think nothing of it, two lovers sharing a moment together. Sabine carefully glanced over her shoulder at the disgusting men eying her, using her hair to shield her actions. Hissing in a breath at the sight she quickly turned away, her unique eyes coming to rest on Galen's broad chest.

“I would hope that all their indulging in drink has slowed them down enough that I might stand a chance. Unless, of course, you have a better idea?” Sabine hated the way her voice slightly shook when she spoke, showing how close to being afraid she really was.

She would never know what possessed her in that moment but she inched up on her tiptoes, getting as close to his ear as she physically could and whispered one word, “Sabine.” A name she had not spoken in what seemed forever. Her own.

The beast retreated further from the influence of the mysterious tonic and Galen found himself appreciating her companionship in more ways than he could express. A sense of self was returning to him, and he wasn’t particularly pleased with the predator he had become. In the time before he never could imagine harboring such dark and primitive urges, let alone entertaining them. He was a monster, a mindless savage.

Yet a semblance of the man from before was seeping through with the aid of the taming elixir.

That touch of humanity strengthened its grip on Galen when Malina drew close enough for him to breathe in her scent and whispered her real name. She whispered it with such care that it sounded like the sweet nothings of a familiar lover, brushing his ear with affectionate teases. It caused a warmth from within his chest to blossom and spread across his body in a slow pulsing advance.

“Some ğęÿñå believe an unmarried woman should sleep with a wolf at the foot of their bedding to ward off unwelcome attention.” Galen observed, all too aware of their closeness. “Such tradition may appeal to you given the nature of things.” It was a tradition he learned before, when he had sought to court a ğęÿñå. He hadn’t thought about her since the beast came; she had been locked away along with his humanity.

“Otherwise, I’m afraid we’re going to have part ways so I can see to my own sleeping arrangements.” Normally that would mean killing someone and claiming their room, but that was when the beast reigned. With the predator in hibernation, he was free to pursue more civilized resolution.

“A room for the girl.” Galen told the barmaid, a comely girl of ivory complexion and fiery mane. She could’ve been related to any of the five other girls making their rounds across the tavern floor. Such a herd creature might have been his meal for the night, had the man with a name not returned from the depths of obscurity.

“If that tradition is to your liking, I must say I seem to be the biggest wolf here.”

Sabine found herself helplessly drawn to Galen, like a fly to a spider's web. She knew it would be wise to turn from him and walk away. Yet she remained.

The belief he spoke of was not completely foreign to her. She knew she had heard it somewhere before though could not recall where or from who no matter how hard she tried. The blank spaces in her memory had never bothered her until now. At that moment Sabine wanted nothing more than to sit with this man and tell him everything about herself. The problem was she couldn't remember anything to share with him. Bits and pieces. Fragments that she would forget as soon as they came to her.

Her hand slid down his arm, intertwining her fingers with his own when he mentioned parting ways. That was something she couldn't allow. Not now. With a small mischievous smile she gave a small tug on his arm. Her eyes shifting to the stairs before returning to Galen. Sabine wasn't sure what she was getting into and she really didn't care in that moment.

“Just remember, wolves sleep at the foot of the bed, Sire,” her voice sultry and teasing at the same time. An odd combination.

Sabine let her hand slip from his and walked away. Not looking back until she reached the bottom of the staircase which lead up to the rooms. Only then did she look over her shoulder. She would leave the choice of whether to follow her or not up to him. He had called himself a beast. How lucky for them that she had always had a gift when it came to beasts.

A beast of a different coat slunk forth from the dark recesses of Galen’s essence in response to the woman’s wiles. The primal guttural growl that formed in his throat was one of the man from before. It was the nature of a lover, not a fighter. He was man again.

The beast was still there, Galen could feel its presence at the back of his mind. It was subdued however, and could barely be felt through the haze of the memories from before slowly bleeding through. The name of the man slowly awakening as still lost to Galen, but he was beginning to recognize the features so gradually forming in his mind.

The man whose name had been lost had an interest in Sabine that was matched only by the lust she inspired in the beast. Galen had only this fixation to grasp in the dull fog of the slowly resurfacing past. Turning away from her would have been difficult enough with the implications of her words flavored both sweet and tart, but the unified appeal of the man and the beast made her impossible to resist.

Heel to toe, heel to toe, Galen followed in the wake of the mysterious beauty. Had he paid homage to the gods, he might have wondered if the sky’s frozen wrath had been for the sole purpose of bring together the pair with two names. It was the sort of tale the bards sang about.

With each step they ventured further down a path from which there could be no return. Sabine lead him by the hand into the beginning of the saga of the end of the beast.

“I don’t know how much time we have before the killer returns. It has to be the drink; the monster had never left me alone. It will be back.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this, but the unnamed man, faceless as death, trusted her. He had to let someone know about the drink, least he be lost again to the beast.

Sabine's heart pounded so loud inside her chest as she led Galen upstairs she was sure even the torturous gods could hear it. The torn woman felt nervous yet comfortable, scared yet trusting. Part of her still thought of the man following her as a complete stranger while another part of her argued that she knew him better than anyone. She wanted to scream out in frustration and jump for joy at the same time. To say that she was confused would be an extreme understatement.

Closing the door behind them and making sure to bolt it tight she turned to survey the room. One bed too broken in to be comfortable, a table that appeared to have blood stains on it's surface and one candle burned half way down. It would have to do. Walking away from her unplanned companion Sabine went to the dingy window. Gazing out into the black as pitch night she couldn't help but wonder if there was such a thing as fate. Could the events of tonight really have been mere coincidence? She didn't think so.

She didn't turn around when he spoke although she heard every word. More riddles. Two people with different curses ending up in the same tavern on the same night. No, not coincidence.

“How can you be so sure it's the drink?” Sabine asked quietly, her back still to him. Flashes of memories played just at the edge of her mind but she couldn't seem to grasp them. “Man or beast I know you will not harm me. I know not how I know that but I do. I see no monster when I look at you, Galen. Only a man.”

With that she turned back around to face him. Her head held high, violet eyes meeting obsidian ones. Sabine allowed her walls down for just a moment. A moment where he would know that what she said was the truth.

Her eyes dropped to the floor as she whispered, “Perhaps you are not the only one with a monster inside you.”

The warped timber of the floor creaked in vocal protest as Galen neared Sabine, drinking in her every softly spoken word as if the purest gold flowed forth from her lips. She spoke of monsters that he dared not believe in. He could not see how anything could taint something so precious. What kind of sorcery most foul would be so wicked as to mar the beauty before him?

Such a luminous vessel could not harbor a monster within, Galen was sure.

Yet there was dark cloud dulling her brilliance, the beast had seen it in the moment Sabine entered the tavern. Something sinister lurked over her. The killer had dismissed it as a tragic past that trailed her, but she spoke as if her demons were quite real. Her violet eyes, so deep and entrancing that he could lose himself in the abyss that contained, were not a natural color outside of the fae. Just as the reflection of the beast stared back at him from any mirror with the orbs alien to the human condition. As the beast he had gazed into the eyes of elves gone feral that had darkened under the twisted magic of their insanity. Could they share tormentors of an arcane origin?

“This beast sees no monster, only a beauty.” And if that beauty ever sank into slumber to allow the monster she spoke of rise, Galen would call upon the beast to slay any nightmare that plagued her. Be it dragon or glamour, he would not rest until her aurora was undiminished. He knew was too close, much too close. Yet nearer to her he drew, both man and beast submitting to the familiar strange desire overtaking him. “What else could it be, if not the drink?” The words echoed deafeningly to the beat of his racing heart, but the whisper as had been as light as a spring afternoon.

Outside, unbeknownst to the pair, the storm outside calmed as the inferno within ignited. Galen’s hands found Sabine’s waist without conscious direction from their master. He surrendered to the pull he had felt since the predator abated, and leaned to close what little distance there was between them.

“A lady should stop a forward man.”

Her body shuddered as he drew closer to her. She knew in that moment what it must feel like to be hypnotized for she couldn't look away from him. Every single move he made Sabine noticed. From the change in his eyes to the tiniest twitch of a muscle. She saw it all.

She couldn't recall the last time she had been called a beauty or anything close to it. Of course men had approached her but they never felt the need to use pretty words when it came to her. Galen was wrong however. There was a monster inside of her. A monster that still knew what blood tasted like and wanted more. It was a struggle everyday for Sabine to not lose herself. It would be so easy to just give in, to allow the monster to take over but she couldn't do that. That's not who she wanted to be. She didn't want to be the killer with dead eyes. She couldn't conjure up most of her past but she did know that most of it had been dark and bloody.

Sabine didn't know the answer. If it wasn't the drink then what could it possibly be? She didn't know but she couldn't just accept that as the simple solution. When the words wouldn't come to her she shook her head at him.

Where his hands touched her the skin burned as if it had been set on fire. She welcomed the pleasing pain. With a soft groan Sabine leaned into Galen, her chest pressing intimately against his. She watched her own hand as it glided up his arm, past his powerful bicep and across his shoulder to the back of his neck. With a smirk she yanked him down closer to her so that their breaths mingled.

“Be sure to tell me if you see a lady,” Sabine answered with a wink.

He was falling.

Plummeting, losing himself in her gaze as the world shrank until it just contained the two of them. Nothing else mattered. For the first time, there was no before. There was just this moment, and an eternity would be tragically too short for him to enjoy this new magic engulfing him. With her uttered words and the fluttering of the wink, the spell was sealed and the man lost himself in blissful damnation.

Galen’s intoxication multiplied in her presence, drunk on her scent. Her touch set his nerves aflame, aching for more. Somewhere in the depths of his existence the beast purred contently as he felt the silk of her lips against his own and the taste of her tongue consumed him. A ravenous euphoria engulfed Al` Hadesh as the kiss continued and deepened. He felt a hunger only knowing every each of the delicate magnificence that was Sabine could even begin to sate.

Fingers roamed beneath cloth to find the electric heat of her skin blazing at his touch. An impatient rumbling within him drove him to pull her against him with firm tenderness until he felt her exquisiteness melting against him. A gentle nip at the nape of her neck sent his appetite soaring and his heart racing at a pace his body and brain could not follow.

Galen was nearly gasping for breath when he sank to the bed, oblivious to its questionable stability, and reached up to pull her down to him. This was the reason the blizzard brought him here; Galen now knew that. Chance would not grant him such a blessing, and the gods would never favor one who actively worked against them such as he.

The storm was sorcery, and Galen didn’t care why or how. The only spell he cared about was the one she entranced him in. Her floral eyes were a curse he’d happily fall for.

While one arm snaked around her to guide her down to the bed with him, the other slowly crept up the inside of her leg in a smooth sliding motion. He couldn’t get enough of her; he had to have all of her. All of it, he had to have it. Her scent, her taste, her warmth, the feel of her silvery hair and the exhilaration of her skin against his. He had never felt like this…not since before.

Galen’s eyes clouded as memories swam to the surface and he lost himself in another life.

The second his lips connected with hers she was lost.

Everything around them seemed to shimmer and blink out of existence. The roof itself could have come crashing down and she wouldn't have noticed. All Sabine could do was feel. His touch, his smell, his very aura consumed her. There was only one thing that mattered to her then. Galen.

She matched his passion equally with her own. For every touch he granted her she returned the favor. Her hands, seemingly taking on a mind of their own, explored his impressive body as they had been wanting to do since first she laid eyes on him. Their bodies were pressed so close together it was as if they were truly trying to merge. Sabine's lips brushed whatever flesh they could reach. A fever taking over her. An almost purr came from deep within her as his teeth found her throat.

As she climbed onto the bed and made her way up his body flashes began to attack her mind. Thinking that perhaps in some way Galen was triggering her moments of clarity she quickly fused their mouths together once again. Her fingers tangled in his golden hair and her mind gone.

Sabine saw herself in the clearing of a forest. Someone was there with her. All she could see of them was a tall and well built outline, their face hidden in shadow. They were promising her something. She knew she was sad but didn't know why. The mystery person lovingly caressed her cheek, bent to kiss her forehead and then walked away. A pain exploded inside her heart, a heart she had thought to have shriveled up and died.

With a sharp gasp she came back to the present and sat up straight. Everything seemed like a blur. A mess that she couldn't piece together. A deep pain resonated inside her breast. The reason unclear to her. When she looked down at Galen the pain only seemed to grow. Suddenly uncomfortable with her position of practically straddling him she wrapped her arms around herself and looked at anything but him.

“I remembered,” the words were so soft she wasn't sure if he would even hear them.

The man from before struggled against the vines that bound him, but the mystic flora only squeezed tighter and savaged him with its thorns in reward for his rebellion. Elves surrounded him, feral eyes warped by their own wild magics – Welvyrs. his captors whispered things to the man from before, dragging him before a cave darker than death’s gaze.

The beast’s growl rumbled from within the gaping maul. The man couldn’t see the creature, but the mere sound of it sent terror washing over him. The doomed man whispered a name to himself over and over, not a prayer but an apology. He spoke the name with such undying love and devotion that the beast snarled in anger from the shroud of darkness. The Welvyrs named the beast in their language with solemn reverence: Galen Al` Hadesh. The Beast of Death.

The man’s final words as he was thrown into the cave mouth with the beast was an apology to the love he would never see again.

The wilderness returned to the past from whence it came, leaving Galen sitting dumbstruck in the room falling victim to the slow decay of time. He looked to Sabine to apologize for the lapse into another life, but she seemed to be coming out of her own episode. She did not meet his eyes as he studied her, wondering just how deep the storm’s spell ran. Galen reached up to wipe the tears away from her eyes, but stopped when she whispered the words that confirmed she shared his fate.

“I remembered, too, who I used to be. It was the Welvyr; they did this to me. The beast is their weapon, I think.” Galen wasn’t sure what to think. What was the beast? Was it something inside him that he could out and reclaim his freedom? Or was it practicing some sort of magic over him that gave it mastery? And what did Sabine have to do with his enslavement? “What did you remember?” No matter her answer, one thing was clear.

They were in this together now.

The troubled female hadn't even realized she was crying until she brushed her fingertips across her cheek only for them to come away wet. What she had seen was becoming a bit clearer to Sabine but there were still parts that seemed blurry. Such as the person's face. She knew whoever the mysterious person had been it was someone that had meant a great deal to her. Perhaps if she could find this person they could help her to unlock her past.

At Galen's words Sabine reached out and took his hand in both of hers. The action meant to not only comfort him but herself as well. She knew that after what he had told her she should run as far away as she could. Instead she stayed. There were so many questions with too few answers but she knew no matter what that she would stay by his side. They had a better chance of freeing themselves if they worked together than if they went their separate ways. At least that's the reason she kept telling herself.

“I remembered that someone loved me. They had to go away but I do not recall why. Something tells me that they never returned from wherever they went.” Sabine had to pause and take a deep breath before she could bring herself to continue. “I loved him as well. This man may still be out there searching for me, I need to find him.”

Sabine may have felt an almost irresistible pull to Galen but she couldn't allow herself to be sucked in by him again. She owed the man from her past more than that. What if he had been waiting for her all this time and here she was in another man's arms?

With a sad smile she placed her hand against his cheek almost lovingly. In a way she was saying goodbye but it was only the beginning.

“Where do we start, Sire?”

Below in the tavern, a cloaked figure sat unnoticed at the table usually reserved for the shadier business dealings in Alrusa. The architecture of jutting ceiling fixtures and wide wooden columns conspired to shield the table from view while allowing the occupant to observe the other patrons unmolested. It was ideal for the quiet drink or illicit business deal.

The figure toyed with a golden chain with deft fingers, occasionally pausing to allow the charm to settle before choosing a new rhythm for the motion of the necklace. Crafted of gold of three different colors, the butterfly charm was the only ones of its kind in the entire Nessic region. Whenever the figure paused from twirling the chain, the butterfly’s wings would flutter in revelation of its mystical nature.

The table itself was covered in scattered keys. Each one was mated to a locked door above. The figure ignored the keys; they had served their purpose already. The cloak’s hood shifted to face the tiny window fixed high on the wall adjacent to the table. The moon blazed brilliantly, complimented beautifully by the clear skies that accented its luminous allure. The figure nodded approval and swept the keys into a cloth sack before abandoning the secluded table.

The barman accepted the keys back without looking up, merely sweeping the cloth from the bar as he scrubbed at a stubborn stain on the varnished surface.

“Is there any other service you require, Sirrah?” Still the man did not look up, though his knuckles whitened as he gripped the cleaning cloth harder and assaulted the unrelenting blemish. The cloaked figure, a hint of ginger now visible beneath the hood, set the necklace and an ornate ring with an emerald stone on the bar. A clinking cascade later, a handful of gold crashed around the items.

“Yes Sirrah, I’ll have these items sent up to them straightaway.” The figure nodded, chuckled dryly and vanished out the worn oak door into the night.

Galen soaked in her every word, greedy for even the tiniest piece of this twisted puzzle of disjointed fragments.

From what she recalled to him, her situation appeared to be a mirror of his own. The Welvyr were unleashing their monsters upon the region, but why? Other questions joined the first until his mind threatened to burst under the pressure. There were so many things he had not even begun to understand.

How many others were out there, bound to the whim of savage killers?

Was the storm a gather point for the enslaved?

Galen wracked his brain to recall the details of the brief memory. Try as hard as he might, and earning a blossoming headache in testimony to his efforts, he could not remember the name the man from before had uttered so lovingly. He suspected that whatever ritual the Welvry used required the victim to be under the influence of love, if Sabine’s story and his own battered memories were any clue. If only he could remember the girl the man from the past once loved…like Sabine he now wondered if his lost love was out there somewhere. Would she recognize him, after all this time?

He had to know.

“The Welvyr, they bound me with Demon’s Tail when they threw me to the beast.” The man winced from the strain of pulling that detail from the memory. Awareness of her touch shifted his attention away from the ache, but it was replaced with guilt for finding comfort with her when they both had others out there for them somewhere. “There is only one place where that vine grows.” He added, dreading what he knew would be their destination.


“Banewood. The beast came from the Caverns of Dusk. We have to go north.” It would not be an easy journey, nor would their goal be a welcoming place should they manage to reach it with life, limb and sanity.

It would be dangerous, but it was the only place Galen could think of to start their search. Before he could voice the obvious difficulty of the situation, a sharp, urgent rapping on the door demanded their immediate attention.

North.

For some reason the idea of traveling north made even her soul seem to freeze. Sabine highly doubted it was just the weather making her dread the journey. She had heard tales of strong men going on quests to the frigid wilderness and never returning. Those simple words made her heart stop. Her mind was once again gone to a different place. A different time.

“You won't survive,” Sabine whispered, unshed tears in her eyes.

“You're just saying that because no one ever has,” the voice of the man who's face always remained in shadow teased from behind her. With a sigh he spun her around and took her into his arms. “I will come back. Even the north will not keep me from you.”

As quick as it had started it was over. Perhaps Galen wouldn't be the only one to find answers on this journey.

Before Sabine could reply a knock on the door made her head whip around. As she got to her feet she made sure to palm her dagger. Sharing a brief look with her companion she opened the door a crack. The barkeep stood on the other side looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else.

“What is it?” Sabine all but snapped.

“Sumthin' came fer ya,” he answered just as briskly. The stout man shoved something in her hands and stomped away, muttering under his breath the whole way.

Sabine turned around and shut the door with her back. Her fist clamped tightly around what the barkeep had given her. Resuming her spot on the bed she refused to look up at Galen. With a shake of her head she opened her fist. A necklace and a ring landed without a sound between them. She studied the items for a moment before finally looking up into his eyes.

“It would seem someone knows we are here. One of your admirers perhaps?” her voice was teasing with venom laced around it.

Galen was numb to the sting of her barbed words; his entire body had gone rigid at the sight of the emerald stone set into the white gold. Before he could puzzle out why he was reacting so violently to the ring, memory overtook him again.

Slender fingers eased off the ring, and a gentle caress applied salve to the burned area surrounding the removed jewelry. The man from before said something that warranted him an airy laugh from his companion, her features distorted.

“My tenderhearted hero, you’re too soft with them.” Her words were loving but edged with the lightest edge of criticism. It seemed this situation was not uncommon for the man from before, if his lover’s tone could be any indication. The memory dissolved as she slipped the ring back on.

“The ring was mine, before the beast.” Someone was going to great lengths to pull their strings, but what exactly did this person, or people, want from Sabine and him? “And the beast doesn’t like it.”

Part of him wanted to get as far as away from Alrusa with Sabine as fast as possible, but that seemed unreasonable. If they were brought together for harmful intentions, the mysterious manipulator could have easily already acted. If anything, this unusual meeting was giving them their only chance at ever finding themselves. Were it not for the storm and Sabine, Galen would have not come to the awareness that his will was not his own. The fact that the predator inside was making such a snarling scene within him, urging him toward violence most savage, only reinforced his guess that it was friend not foe that set them on this path.

“The necklace doesn’t seem to be my style. I don’t see myself wearing butterflies in any life.”

Sabine eyed the necklace warily as she reached her hand out to lightly caress the delicate wings of the butterfly. They seemed to flutter subtly at her touch though she could have imagined it. The light caught the three different metals and made them gleam. It was breathtaking. She didn't recognize it but got the feeling deep down that she should.

“I've got something for you.”

It was the man again. She always saw him but could never see enough to know who he was. He motioned for her to turn around. With a gentle touch he moved her hair off of her neck and fastened something around it. A beautiful necklace with a butterfly charm that seemed to warm her skin where it touched her.

“You are far too good to me,” Sabine told him and smiled brightly at him over her shoulder.

“It will keep you safe when I am not able to,” he whispered and kissed the side of her neck.

Half of her wanted to cherish the trinket always and the other half never wanted to see it again.

“The monster does not much like the necklace either.” Her head tilted as she bit her bottom lip in thought. “If neither of them like these perhaps they are meant to aid us.”

With a tenderness Sabine didn't know she possessed she lifted the necklace with slightly shaking hands. Once again she felt the sensation of fluttering wings but ignored it. With a deep breath she held it out to Galen.

“Would you?”