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No White Opals, Pt 3

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The dawn's light shone through the small break between the heavy curtains pulled tightly across the large window that graced Jiib's third floor room. For most of her life, the Werrit had not been much of a morning person but the past three years in service to Lord Muscroft had changed a number of things about her-- not the least of which being her willingness to awaken early... or being surrounded by opulence when she did.

Jiib slid out of bed, her foot paws sliding into the fine, woolly slippers waiting for her as she stood and wrapped herself in the glorious satin robe that had been gifted to her, among other things. Despite her ardent promise to herself that she would make it on her own, she had to admit that having an employer had certain perks to it-- especially since Lord Muscroft had promised her that he would consider her an independent contractor; she wasn't one of his followers-- she was a mercenary.

There was a certain sense of success that followed that thought. While anyone could be a sword for hire or a keen problem solver, only a certain caliber of skilled help could reasonably assume the title of 'mercenary'. It was strange for her to think that it all began in what would normally have been an embarrassing story: all of her careful planning and the long nights memorizing the patrols or the errant rumors she heard of a great payoff at Estate 7-- she had been manipulated by Joshua Muscroft into attempting to steal from him, and that had been his recruitment test... and she'd passed.

Although he had spent the last 36 months treating her as though she were almost part of the team, there were a few things that he continued to leave unsaid, promising her that she would be taken into full confidence after three years. Jiib had one day to spend until their nightly meetings and then, presuming he had been honest with her, she would learn everything. It wasn't that she didn't trust Lord Muscroft... she didn't really because she didn't trust ANYONE, but he hadn't overtly given her any reason to distrust him and, for her, that was about as good as it could get. If anything, he had been gracious, open, and forthcoming... about everything but his ultimate goal.

Sitting down at the vanity she'd first burglarized upon her arrival at the estate, the irony of being given Lady Elizabeth's room was not lost to her. The Werrit took the time to brush her fur, eyeing the opal ring that graced her finger. Despite the large number of jobs she'd done for Lord Muscroft, she was astounded that it had never turned any grayer nor gained any more black spots than it had since she'd entered into his employ. Jiib couldn't explain the lack of darkening, especially since there had been a number of times the Werrit knew that she was doing 'wicked word' at Joshua's behest. Then again, she did have to admit that it wasn't anything worse than she did before being hired by him... only that he apparently had a very good eye for targeting individuals who were apparently on the wrong side of karmic balance.

Still eyeing her ring, Jiib ultimately finished her time at the vanity and put on a heavier robe for moving about the house; if it was past dawn then the rest of Lord Muscroft's retinue would already be downstairs preparing for the day. The Werrit made the way down the stairs on her own-- a far different experience than her first trip down it over Garna's shoulder. Although Jiib and the Werber hadn't exactly been the best of friends during their first meeting, the older Bear woman had eventually come around, and, as the Werrit got to know the matronly ursine a fair bit of reluctant admiration began to grow.

Garna, Jiib learned, had been a relatively young servant to Joshua's father when Joshua had joined the household. The Werrit really didn't get much clarification as to how that had happened, only that he was helpless and needed guidance. Garna had been the obvious choice, having familiarity with little ones (she'd had four young brothers and sisters) and had a knack fo violence. According to her, that was almost two decades past and, according to her, Joshua was no different physically, but far more capable.

The last point the Werber had spoken made no sense to Jiib at the time but, as the years past, she saw that Garna had a few grayer tufts of fur along her muzzle; Ferren, the Werulf had passed into his fourth decade and was also showing the first tiny hints of growing long in the tooth; even Jiib had aged, coming more into her own as she neared closer to her mid 20s than her early 20s... and yet, nevertheless, Joshua Muscroft looked the same as the day she had met him-- exactly the same. Ever since she'd noticed that trait the fur on the back of her neck rose just a little whenever she was in his presence.

Lord Muscroft was not in the dining room when she arrived that morning, however, but Garna and Ferren were. The Werber, as usual, sat at the head since Lord Muscroft was not present while Ferren, as always, took the spot directly to the right of that seat. A half dozen other followers of Joshua (or, more likely his father) sat gathered around the room, though the spot that he'd picked out for her at the foot of the table remained open. Originally she considered her positioning was to have her as far from him as possible but it wasn't long before she'd learned in high society that being sat across from one's benefactor was a sign of high respect. Jiib had honestly never understood what respect felt like, and it left her confused for several days.

That had been ages past, however, and she took her seat as if she owned it, speaking up to the assembly. "So... who here knows what's going on tonight?"

Rima, the usually silent Le'o woman who sat one chair away from Jiib's right was surprisingly the first to speak. She ran a paw along the eerily colored fur on her arm; rather than be the usual tan-and-gold of most lionesses, Rima was ashen gray. "The Young Master has everything he needs for the ritual, and we will stand witness."

Jiib had, in recent months, heard more of Lord Muscroft's followers talk about some mysterious ritual but none had gone into great detail; as far as the Werrit knew, none of them had the slightest idea of what it was. Still, she realized, she didn't either, and yet she followed Joshua. Then again, the Werrit reminded herself, she was following for money-- the rest of the people at the table seemed to follow out of admiration of Joshua, or else loyalty to his father. In some cases, in her eyes, it almost seemed like a cult.

The green scaled lizard man seated directly across from Rima began making several carefully choreographed gestures with his claws. The well-dressed, tanned skinned Human seated beside the lizard spoke for him, translating what was 'said' by the reptile. "Ire says that the Young Master will only bring four of us with him into the ritual room."

Although 'Ire' was not the lizard man's real name, it was the way he referred to himself, according to Brooks, his translator. Jiib couldn't remember a time when she hadn't seen Ire and Brooks together; they seemed close and, if she didn't know better, they were likely more than friends. What she DID know for certain was that Brooks' mother was a Desertfolk sorceress, making him a mixed breed Human with a knack for both Technology and Magic; Ire, on the other paw, was a wrecking ball plain and simple-- she'd seen the number of Opals he'd had go black during his duties to Lord Muscroft.

The other two Humans at the table, twin brother and sister were seated directly to Garna's left. Both were nearly as lithe as Jiib and on numerous occasions she'd seen the skills they had developed over time; like her, they were acrobatic and agile-- nearly as stealthy as the Werrit herself, but they hadn't perfected their talents for taking anything but lives. Looking at them as they seemed to ignore the conversation entirely, Jiib began wondering just how many blades they each had hidden somewhere on themselves; their hands were full of opal-crowned rings and, she noticed, most were black-- when she'd seen them the prior night at dinner they were mostly white. She shuddered at the thought.

After a long, drawn out silence after Rima had spoken, an aged, raspy voice spoke up. It belonged to the only other diner at the table, an old Heudan named Altan. Although he spoke far more often than Rima, his was a voice of authority; according to the others, the bird man had faithfully served Joshua's father for decades, and was the only voice of authority the young man gave any notice to aside from Garna. "Secondhand information is scarcely more useful than rumor. When the Young Master is ready to divulge his plans we will be made aware."

Jiib opened her muzzle to say something, only to have the old Bird continue, surprisingly countering his own earlier statement. "But, if you MUST know, the Young Master plans to have myself, Garna, Ferren, and Jiib join him for the ritual."

Those who had previously been silent suddenly had plenty to say. While it was a foregone conclusion that Joshua would favor Garn and Ferren, many of the others were astounded, dismayed, disturbed, displeased, and possibly more than a little jealous that their "beloved leader" would elect to have the Werrit with him; Jiib completely understood seeing as she was the newest of the group. Other than wanting to finally have answers to her questions, she honestly couldn't have cared less.

The faint sight of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, causing her to glance to one of the several archways leading out of the dining room; it was the one leading to the sitting room, and Joshua was standing just beyond it, gesturing to her. Shooting him a questioning glance, she mouthed 'what?', but he didn't seem inclined to answer, merely gesturing to her. Looking back to the still arguing band of loyal followers, she didn't bother excusing herself, merely standing and heading after her employer.

It wasn't until the two were alone in the sitting room that Joshua bothered saying anything. "You will be joining me tonight for the ritual."

She had countless questions she could have asked related to his loyal followers, or the significance of the ritual, or what she was even supposed to do, but the simplest question was the one that she asked. "Okay... why?"

Joshua gave her one of his eerie smiles as he held up what almost looked like a cultist's robe; it was adorned with interlocking rings studded with opals, giving it the look of chain mail armor. "I need you to steal one more thing for me."

Eyeing the treasure trove of rare stones on the piece of clothing, Jiib's muzzle fell open. It was several seconds before she could formulate her follow up question. "Uh... what do I need to steal?"

For the first time she could recall, she saw a truly genuine smile on the young man's face. Eyes alight, his expression, accompanied with his answer, frightened her far more than anything else ever had. "A soul."

* * * * *

Aside from her first night at Estate 7 Jiib had never found a reason to return to the basement-- that was far more Ferren's area of expertise, especially when it came to 'guests'. That night, however, she, Garna, and Ferren followed Altan down the short hallway banked by cells on either side. He led them to the far end of the basement and placed an old, shaky talon on the wall, letting Mana flow through it to project his voice to the opposite side and whatever lay beyond. "We are here, Young Master."

Jiib's first experience with learning that Joshua Muscroft was an Operator had been a surprise, yet feeling the effects of reality-changing power never ceased to amaze her. Even without hearing his voice, the Werrit could tell the moment the Human used his authority to cause the wall to part ways, a solid pawful of seconds before it opened, revealing a narrow, spiraling staircase leading down. Jiib knew that Lord Muscroft was able to interact with Maan Ellis itself, even though she didn't completely understand how.

The first few weeks after learning of his power, Jiib often spent her time alone trying to replicate it. She would use what was obviously some kind of identifier, calling out in the privacy of her room to 'Ellis', using the same words he had: Jos-Mus-Oh-Seven, and yet she never got a response-- nothing happened, not even the acknowledgement that she was not allowed to use the powers her benefactor wielded. Only during the time in his employ did she learn exactly what it meant to be an Operator.

Among Cityfolk, the term 'operator' usually referred to whomever was utilizing a piece of tech. Whether that person were controlling a tech-transport, cooking a meal atop a tech burner, or activating or deactivating the Metropolis' street lights, every user of tech was known as an 'operator'-- the difference, of course, was the rare individual who could get a response from an Maan itself... someone like Joshua.

He didn't often talk about his connection to the Maan but, over the course of the years she'd worked for him, Jiib had learned little more than she had the first night: he had inherited the power from his father and, in so doing, gained his operator code-- the first three letters of his first name and the first three letters of his surname, followed by his father's inherited number: 07. In total, his Operator code was Jos-Mus-07, but that meant little in the scheme of things.

She'd asked other questions of him, such as how many Operators there were (he didn't know), if Operators received their numbers sequentially (he didn't know), and even more mundane questions like if he knew other Operators (just his father), or how old his father had been (strangely, he didn't know that either). Her meandering thoughts came to a halt as the group arrived at the bottom of the steps and she took in the sights of the strange room in which she found herself.

The large, circular space was over 20' across and the raised ceiling was more than 30' overhead, supported by five large columns which stretched from the floor up to the arches that supported the curved dome which capped the chamber. A sconce positioned on each pillar held a torch facing the center of the room, which held a raised dais containing a stone sarcophagus; unless Jiib was mistaken, the seal upon it was the Muscroft family crest. To her left, Ferrin went down to one knee, lowering his head, tail flopping onto the floor limply as he spoke a single word with reverence. "Master..."

Jiib's attention shifted between the sarcophagus and Joshua; the former was silent and unmoving while the latter was dealing with a fussy Werber helping him into a large black robe adorned with interlocking rings studded with Opals. The Werrit was doubly surprised when Garna held out one to her. "You too, Thief."

Even though the Werber had warmed up to her over time Jibb had always been known of as 'The Thief' though, in more recent months, it had become something close to a term of endearment... or at least begrudging respect. Accepting the surprisingly heavy cloak, the Werrit looked down at it. "There's got to be at least 100 opals here!"

Joshua finished securing his cloak and nodded casually. "Of course... and we will likely need them all."

Unwilling to freely discuss the topic that had been raised earlier in the day, Jiib looked to her employer, applying more tact in her question. "Does this have to do with... that thing we talked about after breakfast?"

Altan hobbled past all of them, reverently ascending the three steps leading up to the sarcophagus with a slow, purposeful march. The old Owl lowered his body onto it, spreading his arms and wings out as if embracing a long-lost loved one. He spoke softly but Jiib's keen ears could understand the words clearly. "It will not be long now, my Master... the ritual will soon begin and you will be among us once more."

There were countless stories-- rumors mostly, of legends of tales of whispers spoken about by random travelers who may or may not have once existed.... tales of things that were neither dead nor living... things pulled out of death and placed into a status of being that was neither alive nor dead. Jiib was a quick thinker and, despite having very little education, it was not hard to put the clues together. "You're going to raise Joshua's father?"

She jumped when she felt Joshua's hand slowly press against her shoulder. "We all are, Jibbelle. Everything we have been doing has led us to this."

Beside her, Ferren, who was still kneeling, was sobbing. The Werulf had also donned a robe adorned with opals; it was probably for the best since the ones on his gauntlets had long since turned black. Voice emerging as a soft, hopeful whine, he spoke. "After all this time... will he truly be among us again?"

Altan slowly drew back from the sarcophagus, but not before drawing a single talon across it, leaving a faintly glowing sigil. Turning, he carefully made his way down the stairs and approached Joshua; Jiib saw the faint trail of Mana flowing between him and the mark, making her realize that whatever he'd done was no small feat, and was far beyond her limited understanding. The Heudan leaned forward and gently kissed the young man on either cheek. "It is a great thing you do for your family today, Young Master. We are all so very proud of you... your father will be proud of you as well."

Joshua nodded, offering his trademark emotionless smile. The young man gave the sagely Owl a calm pat on the shoulder. "I know."

Before leaving, the ancient bird turned to look at Jiib. "I know you only serve for coin, girl... but your part in this ritual is perhaps the most important. Do not let us down, and the Master will reward you in ways you could not possibly imagine."

The Werrit's only response was "Right now my imagination isn't going to a good place, thanks..."

Surprisingly, out of everyone present, it was Garna who addressed her concern. "You'll be fine, Thief... just do what you do best."

Joshua had reiterated time and time again that Jiib's ability with her natural affinity for her race's Filch Magic was why he was so willing to employ her and, in fact, ever since entering into his service her talent with it had been constantly tested and pressed, causing her to become even more competent in it than ever before. Putting together the young man's statement from earlier in the day, she was perplexed; she knew that Filch Magic allowed a Werrit to be able to steal things normally out of reach or impossibly difficult to access, but could it really steal a soul?

She continued to hold her own council, musing over her own thoughts as Joshua, Ferren, and Garna each took up a spot between two pillars. She didn't move until Lord Muscroft spoke to her. "Jiibelle... move to stand here... between the pillars to Ferrin's right. You will remain there until I step forward and, when I do, it is imperative that you move forward with me. Do you understand?"

Jiib nodded numbly, moving to one of the spaces between two pillars that was empty. Joshua stood between the pillars to the left of the head of the of the sarcophagus and to his right was Ferren. To Ferren's right, at the right side of the sarcophagus was Jiib and, across from her on the left side of the dais was Garna; the two pillars flanking the foot of the sarcophagus stood empty. Even as she was talking stock of the situation, Joshua began speaking. "Ellis: Operator code JosMus07. Acknowledge."

An otherworldly voice vibrated all around them from-and-through the chamber itself. "Acknowledged, Operator. H.A.V.E.N. Ellis standing by. State your request."

Jiib had only heard the term HAVEN once, and it had been part of a bard's tale about the creation of Aegis Prime. The oldest stories of Creation spoke of the Ancients and how they brought forth the Gods into existence. Supposedly, HAVENS were the tools of Seir Kadan, De'Anna, and Strove themselves-- the triumvirate responsible for all of existence. The HAVENS were created by the Ancients themselves, given as gifts to the Gods. But what, she wondered, did Maan Ellis have to do with a HAVEN?

Joshua's eyes remained solely on the sarcophagus in front of him. Her musings would have to wait. "You know what I want."

A swirl of power, comparable perhaps only to a bath plug being pulled and water spiraling down the train came into being... only it felt as though reality were the water. The pillars to either side of Jiib were to far apart for her to use for stabilizing herself but, before she could think to move to one for support powerful, searing bright lashes of energy shot forth from either, latching onto both her wrists-- one per pillar. Similarly, the Werrit watched as the same happened to Garna, Ferren, and Joshua himself. Once all four were struck, an arc of identical energy jumped between the two pillars that had an empty space between.

The entire world spun around her and Jiib felt as though she was going to be sick but, before her stomach could make up its mind whether it would remain full or empty itself, everything stopped... everything. She, the pillars, the sarcophagus, and her companions were all that remained amidst a sea of blackness-- there was no light around them, yet all that was remained somhow visible. A buzzing came unbidden to her mind and the Werrit winced; she noticed the Werber and Werulf do similarly, but not Joshua.

The young man nodded. "Yes, Strove. I've come to collect on a favor owed to my father."

The buzzing continued, stronger, and Jiib tried to bury her ears with her shoulders; Ferren growled against it, and Garna's much smaller ears clamped down tight against her head. Joshua responded as if the buzzing meant something. "You are the God of Insight and Invention-- Innovation and Ingenuity... of COURSE you have the answer I seek!"

Focusing on Joshua helped Jiib ignore the worst of the disquieting buzzing. She watched as he strained against his bonds, shouting out to the blackness as if challenging it to deny him. "Then make it so! Your favor has come due, God of Invention! Give me what I want: show me the ritual for returning a soul to a body!"

The buzzing increased in volume and tempo, not unlike someone making an accusation or objection. Joshua shrugged it off. "I've already thought of that... you should know this, God of Ingenuity."

The Werrit suddenly felt very small... not unlike an ant under a magnifying glass. For a moment, she wondered if the sun would be magnified onto her... and then the sensation left her, causing Jiib to release a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. In the very back of her mind, she was almost certain she heard words somewhere amidst the buzzing. "Very well, Child-Who-Wasn't... consider his owed favor cleared."

The buzzing ended, replaced only by Joshua speaking an intonation. Although Jiib was no expert on rituals she could tell right away that it was something magical, and something very powerful. Every word her employer spoke came a split second after the continuation of the faint buzzing, and she realized that she was echoing divine words spoken to him. The fur all over her body stood on end as she began seeing the arcane mark on the sarcophagus blaze mightily.

The ritual continued, Joshua's voice creating an almost hypnotizing tempo to it; although she couldn't understand the words, Jiib somehow FELT the meaning: he was using a combination of magic, faith, and the power of an Operator to do... something. She realized she knew what he was doing, but she refused to think about it. The Werrit also knew the time would come when she would have her part to play in it; the thought worried her. It also came sooner than expected. Joshua was staring at her. "Now, Jiib... reach out across the Veil, and take my father's soul back from the Beyond."

Whether she felt some sense of obligation or even if it was just conditioning after working for him for three years, Jiib did just that, throwing her all into a desperate bid to do as he had demanded. With Filch Magic, every part of a Werrit's body became a possible vector for taking what it was they were after-- for the most powerful, even their breath could extend their reach, or body heat, or even force of will. What Joshua asked of her was far beyond the scope of anything visible, tangible, or even open to any reasonable sense-- in order to steal a soul, Jiib would have to use her soul.

She did.

No ground existed in the blackness and yet, somehow, there was an earthquake the moment her intangible essence touched another one and, when she realized she'd encountered what she was after, she pulled with all her might. Crying out as the Mana blazed through her body, the Werrit smelled the scent of her own scorched fur invading her nostrils but, more than that, the palsy that accompanied a powerful blast of Mana Burn.

Surprisingly, however, it was not as bad as it could have been-- only after opening her eyes did she realize why: Joshua, Ferren and Garna were all smoking too. What was more noticeable, however, was a vaguely man-shaped ball of light caught in the chain of energy flowing between the two pillars at the base of the sarcophagus. Ferren, despite being as Mana Burned as Jiib, somehow managed to struggle against the energy that held him bound, practically howling out the word. "Master!"

Joshua cried out as well, though his statement was far more an order than any emotional outburst. "Step forward!"

The young man's aura of command was nothing short of all encompassing and Jiib did so based on his word alone; the energy tethering her to the columns broke for just a second, freeing her before it snapped back into place between the pillars themselves, allowing the four corporeal individuals and the one energy being to draw closer to the sarcophagus. Having only given them an order to step forward once, Joshua remained where he was, his chanting continuing. Jiib stared in amazement as she watched a flowing wave of energy sap the white off of the opals on his robe starting at his shoulders and flowing downward as if it were rain wetting the cloth; it was frightening.

Gazing down at her own robe, Jiib's breath got stuck in her throat; there wasn't a single white opal among the bunch-- did she have just enough to save her from the worst Karmic backlash that could have been possible? Almost as if by reflex she looked to her ring, only to see that, not only had the opal turned jet black. For the first time ever, the Werrit wondered if she'd overstepped the bonds of the Aegis. Would she become a target? Was she... evil?"

Her thoughts were once again shattered like waves against the rock that was Joshua's command. "Again! Step forward!"

The four of them and the floating apparition were so close that they created a ring around the sarcophagus-- so near to one another that they would be able to reach out and link paws, yet Joshua did not order it, and so they did not. The young man, did, however, cease the chanting, pausing as if listening to something for his ears only. "A sacrifice? More than what was already required?"

Ferren spoke up immediately, staring with iron conviction at Joshua. "Me. I'll do it... anything!" The Werulf's eyes went immediately to the apparition. "There is nothing I would not give for you, Master. Tell him. Let me do this for you!"

Joshua raised a hand. "No, Ferren. You are my father's servant... you are not mine to sacrifice."

No sooner were the words said than the flash of a blade so fast that Jiib very nearly missed it was echoed only by a flicker of Joshua's cloak. Garna's eyes went wide and her paws went to her throat, red ribbons of fluid gushing out between her fingers, becoming a cascading waterfall down her front. Her gaze went to the young man, a man Jiib knew she had raised. She had been his nurse-- his confidant-- his guardian-- his supporter and his loyal follower-- and, suddenly, his sacrifice.

Joshua remained impassive, watching her as she slowly fell to her knees, reaching out a paw to steady herself on the sarcophagus, leaving a bloody streak across its stony surface as she slumped down onto the steps. Jiib watched as the blood glowed, and seeped into the rock; she quickly looked away, back to Joshua, who was looking at the fallen Werber, a single, jet black tear rolling its way down his cheek.

Jiib gasped involuntarily as she watched the blackness begin to spread. It was subtle at first; Joshua's pink irises turned brown, then black-- followed by the scalera. His platinum hair likewise went brown, then black, then midnight dark, slowly followed by his skin, until he appeared to resemble a life size statue carved out of obsidian. He turned to look at her, his voice coming out as a rasp. "You look so terrified... why?"

She couldn't answer his question except with another. "What... is happening?"

He offered her a smile... it was another of his rare genuine ones, but his all-black eyes failed to light up. "Two sacrifices, Jiibelle... Garna was mine... and one must be my father's..."

No sooner were the words out of his lips than his every motion ceased and Jiib was left staring at a pure black statue. Before her eyes, the entirety of it began to crack and, as light returned to the room and the shadows were replaced by reality, an otherworldly wind blew through the chamber, turning Joshua's petrified remains to dust.

Jiib's attention was called back to the sarcophagus when the heavy stone shuddered with a great thud. Ferren, showing no apparent concern over his disintegrated employer, stumbled up the steps and began pushing at the lid. He growled, heaving with all his might as he called to the Werrit. "Help me, damn it!"

Stunned from what she had seen, Jiib did no such thing but, moments later, the Werulf's need for her ended as the stone lid exploded upward, sending Ferren flying back into a pillar, slamming into it with a fleshy thud. He fell to the floor, leaving a red streak on the stone, but Jiib's attention was no longer on him as a figure within the sarcophagus stirred. The Werrit took a step back as an impressive figure rose up from a reclining position to standing one without making a single motion.

She took an inadvertent step back when the man turned to regard her. She could see a striking resemblance between him and Joshua. Like his son, Lord Muscroft was pale but, unlike Joshua, his pallor was far from natural. His black hair was long and luxurious, however, giving his frightening appearance an almost surreal beauty. His smile revealed perfect teeth, though she couldn't help but think that Humans shouldn't have fangs. The man's baritone voice was smooth like a rich wine, a sensual touch, or a beautifully played coronet. "I am pleased to be welcomed back, m'lady."

She stuttered out her name. "I-- I'm J-J-Jiib."

His smile was not only genuine, but it was sympathetic. Despite what had started as abject fear suddenly became a soothing sense of comfort. He stepped out of the sarcophagus, adorned in the fine raiments of a very well-to-do societal elite and brushed a few flecks of shattered stone off of his suit before addressing her again. "Well, my dear, I must commend you on your lovely cloak."

Looking down again at her robe, she once again took note that all of the opals had changed. "They're... all black."

The man nodded. "Indeed they are... even the one your dear mother gave you."

She froze at that, slowly lifting her paw with the ring on it. "How-- how did you know?"

Lord Muscroft chuckled patiently; the sound sent a little thrill shiver up her spine but, at the same time, frightened her at just how much of an impact it had on her. "Oh, my dear... there are no secrets from the dead."

The statement chilled her to the core and she looked around at the unmoving Werulf and Werber, and the empty robe where Joshua had been; every last opal in the room had gone black. "We did it then? We... brought you back to life?"

The man's gaze followed her, moving about the room until he looked up, then glanced off to the corner of the room as if seeking something in the distance with a far off gaze. "Ellis. Operator code CorMus07."

There was no response. After a long pause, Jiib hazarded a comment. "Did... didn't you pass your operator status to your s-son?"

Lord Muscroft nodded, glancing around as if distracted. "Yes... and it would have returned to me when he sacrificed himself."

Jiib attempted to come to terms, not only with what she was hearing, but also the casual manner with which the man before her addressed the death of his son. She continued to try to figure out what to say, or even HOW to say it, but, in the end, she didn't get the chance. Moving over to the fallen Werulf, the man knelt down, pressing a hand to the side of the Wolf's limp face. "Ferren... I still have need of you, my dearest friend."

There was no way Jiib would ever be able to dsecribe the sound she heard following the statement-- the Werulf's shattered body corrected itself with a sickening bone-on-bone-on-tendon-on-cartiladge crackling pop, and an eerie green glow lit up the Wolf's eyes; a moment later Ferren took in a ragged breath, and the first word that escaped his bloodied muzzle was an enraptured "Master..."

Lord Muscroft chuckled warmly. "Welcome back, Mal-Ferren... you brought me back, and so now I return the favor."

Jiib had never liked the sound of someone sobbing but, every time she'd heard it up until that moment, the person had been alive-- the sound of crying coming from something that was not living would be something she would never forget. The husk of a Werulf that had once been Ferren lavished his master's hand with brushes of his muzzle, licks, kisses, and, ultimately the grip of both paws as he was pulled up to his feet, and then into an embrace by the eerie but inexplicably intoxicating Human.

The Werrit, despite not wanting to call attention to herself, couldn't not say something. "Did you... call him 'Mal-Ferren'?"

Lord Muscroft turned as if suddenly remembering Jiib were there; she hated herself for reminding him. His kind smile still somehow managed to warm her, chasing her fears away. "Yes, m'lady... Ferren served me loyally in life, as he had vowed. In his passing, his duty was concluded, but he once said that he would follow me until the End of Days, and would not let death stop him from being Mine. His vow is now complete-- I have Called him Back, and he serves me once again."

The Werulf that was neither alive nor dead looked to her. "I am still me, Jiib... only I'm not."

The Human Lord elaborated. "When a mortal dies, their name is buried with them. When they are brought back, the are known as Mal-Created... some may call them a crime against creation, but I disagree... just as death is the continuation of life, so too is unlife... or... undeath."

Jiib's words came out as a fearful whisper. "You're... undead?"

The Human and Werulf laughed together. Lord Muscroft eventually explained. "He is no longer Ferren... he is now Mal-Ferren, but he is everything that he was before his death, except alive."

The statement made the Werrit pause. "Would that make you Mal-Muscroft then?"

The man froze at that, one eyebrow raising. "Of course... how silly of me... I haven't so much as introduced myself, have I?"

Jiib had rarely if ever seen Ferren wag, but she was astounded to see the Wolf do just that. "Oh! Master... please, I beg of you, my Lord... it has been so long... may I be your crier once again?"

Lord Muscroft smiled warmly, reaching out to cup the side of the Werwolf's face and then pet him like a man might do to a hound. "You know I could not deny such a request, Mal-Ferren... of course-- let us do this properly."

Mal-Ferren rose up to his full, formal height, doffing the robe adorned with black Opals as he gestured. "Presenting his Lordship, Master Mal-Corwyn Muscroft."

Jiib found herself curtsying without realizing why she did so, only to have Lord Muscroft take gentle hold of her right paw. He bowed, softly brushing his lips across it, leaving a faint tingle in their wake. Quickly pulling her arm away from him, she was astounded to see that the years-old, ravaged, furless scar was disappearing before her eyes. "What? H-how? What did--?"

The Human inclined his head. "I owe you a favor, Lady Jiibelle, and, as any man of honor would, I intend to pay my debt.. and, unless I am mistaken, you have ingeniously helped me understand how to do just that."

The Werrit stared at him, not completely comprehending. "I--"

Lord Muscroft spoke loudly toward the ceiling. "Ellis. Operator input. Verify."

The pounding in Jiib's ears returned as the otherworldly voice spoke. "H.A.V.E.N. Ellis awaiting Operator Code."

The man smiled. "Operator Code Mal-CorMus07."

The voice spoke up from all around them, causing Jiib to fall to her knees. "Acknowledged, Operator. H.A.V.E.N. Ellis standing by. State your request."

Lord Muscroft gently reached down and helped the Werrit to her feet. Addressing the voice, he stated only "Hold."

He then spoke softly as he took her paw in both his hands. "Lady Jiibelle... you served my son faithfully-- even if it was for coin. I will have need of loyalty, and my estate has no shortage of coin. I ask you now: would you follow me?"

Looking up into his gray eyes, blazing with supernatural green light, the Werrit realized that she was trapped, but not in a way that worried her. She knew immediately that there was no way she could say 'no'. Joshua was an echo of the man in front of her and there was no way she would be able to have denied the son-- denying the father was out of the question. Still, Werrit weren't stupid, and there were answers other than 'yes' and 'no'. "I... I-I... I don't know."

The Human broke his gaze with hers, looking down to her paw clasped in his hands. "My road will be a difficult one, Jiibelle, and I would not fault you if you felt that you could not handle it. Much will be asked of my followers, but I will never ask anyone to do what I myself would not. This world is broken, and it must be fixed. What I do will go against every convention held since Creation first began. I will stand against the rules set forth by the Ancients, and, if need be, I will stand against the Gods themselves. This world is not fair, and the wrongness done daily to its people can no longer be overlooked."

She stared down at the hands clasped over her paw, feeling a strange warmth amidst the cold touch. Jiib had once heard of some of the more surreal powers of supernatural creatures, of charming spells, and of enchanters clouding the minds of the unworthy, but she had no doubt that the being before her could coerce her with force; there was no need for subtlety. He wanted her to join him of her own volition. The thought was appealing on so many levels, but also frightening. Once again she forced out an answer that wasn't an answer. "...why?"

He looked up at her again. "Because, my dear... there are better ways than what we now face, and I will not stop until they can be realized. My son, Joshua, was a casualty of the wrongness of this world... and I must make it right. I understand that this is not an easy decision for you, and I can guarantee that there will be more pain-- more loss-- more suffering. No path worth traveling is easy, and this path is very worthy."

He slowly released her paw, and she looked at her naked digits, staring at the ring left to her by her mother; she had hoped to maintain it as a keepsake before it went black, but it was as dark as midnight-- fully spent. Exhausted. Done. Was she? "My ring..."

The man knelt down, taking her paw in his hands once again, but both from beneath it, raising it up as if her extremity were a gift to her from him. "My dearest Jiibelle... become my follower... my disciple. Where we are going there are no white opals. The world will have no need for them... but... until then..."

His voice raised into a commanding tone. "ELLIS. Purge Karmic Load, authorization Mal-CorMus07."

The disembodied voice affected Jiib less when it spoke again. "Safety protocols in place. Repeat command."

Lord Muscroft rose up again, taking the Werrit's paw with him so he could show off her mother's ring. "Purge. Karmic. Load."

Before her eyes, Jiib witnessed a miracle: the Opal on her mother's ring returned to its former glory-- not just smoky, but the same bright white of freshly laundered linen. Unable to believe what she was seeing, the Werrit's eyes dropped to the ground, and she froze for a second time: her discarded robe was also studded with pure white Opals... in fact, every single Opal in the room was once again pristine. "...how?"

The man in front of her smiled. "I offer a world free from the tyrany of the Aegis. I offer free will."

Mal-Ferren raised a paw as he howled. "Glory to Mal-Corwin Muscroft!"

Jiib murmured to herself. "Mal-CorMus07...."

Lord Muscroft raised an eyebrow. "What's that, my dear?"

Her finger brushed across her mother's ring-- her ring. "Glory to Malcormus."

Her benefactor chuckled. " Malcormus, hmm? I like it."

And so began the Dark God's rise.