She liked the smell of the sea, the cool breeze in her face, the feeling of being a free spirit for once. Riding the waves made her feel like she was nobody, and it felt good. Being Vicala Caéran was too much trouble, too much responsibility, at sea, no one knew her name or her origins. No one expected anything from her. For once.
After their fourth voyage the ship arrived at the Blackstone docks once again, late in the afternoon. Vicala took a deep breath and nodded to herself. "Smells just like home," she thought. She turned around to look for Raphael, but found herself staring into a pair of bright blue, female eyes instead.
"Are you going to help or what?" asked the blonde elf, motioning to the heap of crates on the dock.
"This was the last one for me, I'm staying in Blackstone from now on."
"Yes yes, you told me several times, just go get the damn boxes," she answered bitterly. "It won't kill you to help out one last time."
Vicala ignored her and covered her eyes from the sun as she examined the ship. "Have you seen Raph?"
"What's the difference, just get me the boxes!"
"I'm beginning to worry about him, something's wrong," she said quietly.
"Fine, I'll do it myself..." The elf pouted as she hurried off the ship to throw her slender arms around one of the crates. "You shouldn't worry about him, worry about yourself," she said with a grunt while carrying the heavy box.
"He's been acting very strange lately, ever since... Zhen died."
"Are you even listening to me?" asked the elf, gesturing wildly with her arms after she put the box down. "And where the hell is everyone? Stupid good for nothing crew, I just know the captain's going to blame me for this..."
Vicala put her hands in her pockets and sighed. "You said anything?"
"Worry about yourself before worrying about others."
"Sounds very much like advice I've been given before," she chuckled. "What do I have to worry about?"
The elf snickered as she removed a lock of her hair hanging down over her face. "Let's see..." she said and began counting on her fingers. "You are part tiefling, to begin with, and you're obviously having trouble controlling that part of you."
Vicala looked at her and wondered how she could have guessed that much. "Go on," she said, with newfound interest.
"You didn't know whether you loved your boyfriend or whether he loved you."
"Uh, I'm sure it happens to everyone sooner or later," Vicala said, though not sounding quite convinced.
"You fell in love with another, who happened to be your employee."
"That can't be too unusual, either."
"Surely not, but this employee didn't love you back, and happened to transform into a lich."
Vicala was baffled. "How do you know all this?" she said.
"You and your rum told me last night, as I was trying to get some sleep," the elf answered with a sly grin. "Should I go on?"
Vicala nodded slowly, though she didn't know why.
"You lost your boyfriend and presumed him dead, and then got him back only to get dumped by him. You thought sacrificing a rib would save your beloved employee, but found out that it was all in vain, and that it led to a close friend's untimely death. Then the employee really did come back, and now you say you're not sure whether you love him. This sounds like a person with problems to me." She looked at Vicala. "Not just drinking problems, that is."
Problems, and escaping from them
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Some fellow
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Later, in a distant village...
"Raphael," said a short, sturdy woman when he entered through the garden gate. "What a pleasant surprise."
It was almost as if he hadn't been gone for several years since he last visited his family.
"Mother. I came as soon as I heard the news."
The woman continued to weave her basket. "You didn't have to do that," she said. "But still, it's a pleasant surprise."
An awkward pause followed. "So... uh, where is father?"
"All the men are helping out with the defence. They have gathered up at the old castle," she said with a slight wave up the hill. Raphael peered in the distance to see the contours of the fortress. It was not quite as impressive as he remembered it.
"I guess I should go there then, and offer my aid. Mine and Lia's, if I can."
"Oh, Lia is with us. Whenever the forces of Good and Evil clash together and destroy life for those who only want to live in quiet peace, Lia is there to aid us. And Amarond is still around."
Raphael thought about the man that once had discovered his talent and given him the first elementary steps in his clerical training. He realized that the people of this little barony would never accept him as Amarond's equal.
"But I also have a blade to offer. It belonged to a friend of mine." He drew Zhen's scimitar, sparking with electricity.
The woman looked up from her toil. "You know better, Raphael," she said, slowly shaking her head. "You know that when this happens, we only have to show them that we won't be treaded upon. We don't actually have to fight anyone, they aren't interested in that. We're not a party to this quarrel, and haven't been for centuries. You know that." She looked up once again, eyeing her son rather curiously. "Besides, these things happen pretty regularly. I'm sure news have reached you before."
"Well... I have been busy, and..."
He felt as if her gaze pierced him. "I think you are escaping from something. Is that so?"
"Now why would I do such a preposterous thing?" he asked her. "I have just discussed this with Vicala. That's a friend of mine," he added when he saw her perplex look. "She's the one who escapes from problems, not me."
"Ah. A girl."
"It's not how you think, mother."
The woman slowly put her finished basket down on the ground beside her. She went inside the little cottage and came out again with an extra stool. Placing it in front of her, she offered him to have a seat. "Tell me how it is, then. And start from the beginning; I have been fairly curious about your doings ever since you left, because not much has reached my ears. Don't leave anything out, either. I want to know all about this girl of yours." She smiled at him.
He smiled back, a little uncomfortably, but he did sit down and started to tell her. Not leaving anything out, he didn't let the sunset break the story. Just for now, he actually felt at home.
"Raphael," said a short, sturdy woman when he entered through the garden gate. "What a pleasant surprise."
It was almost as if he hadn't been gone for several years since he last visited his family.
"Mother. I came as soon as I heard the news."
The woman continued to weave her basket. "You didn't have to do that," she said. "But still, it's a pleasant surprise."
An awkward pause followed. "So... uh, where is father?"
"All the men are helping out with the defence. They have gathered up at the old castle," she said with a slight wave up the hill. Raphael peered in the distance to see the contours of the fortress. It was not quite as impressive as he remembered it.
"I guess I should go there then, and offer my aid. Mine and Lia's, if I can."
"Oh, Lia is with us. Whenever the forces of Good and Evil clash together and destroy life for those who only want to live in quiet peace, Lia is there to aid us. And Amarond is still around."
Raphael thought about the man that once had discovered his talent and given him the first elementary steps in his clerical training. He realized that the people of this little barony would never accept him as Amarond's equal.
"But I also have a blade to offer. It belonged to a friend of mine." He drew Zhen's scimitar, sparking with electricity.
The woman looked up from her toil. "You know better, Raphael," she said, slowly shaking her head. "You know that when this happens, we only have to show them that we won't be treaded upon. We don't actually have to fight anyone, they aren't interested in that. We're not a party to this quarrel, and haven't been for centuries. You know that." She looked up once again, eyeing her son rather curiously. "Besides, these things happen pretty regularly. I'm sure news have reached you before."
"Well... I have been busy, and..."
He felt as if her gaze pierced him. "I think you are escaping from something. Is that so?"
"Now why would I do such a preposterous thing?" he asked her. "I have just discussed this with Vicala. That's a friend of mine," he added when he saw her perplex look. "She's the one who escapes from problems, not me."
"Ah. A girl."
"It's not how you think, mother."
The woman slowly put her finished basket down on the ground beside her. She went inside the little cottage and came out again with an extra stool. Placing it in front of her, she offered him to have a seat. "Tell me how it is, then. And start from the beginning; I have been fairly curious about your doings ever since you left, because not much has reached my ears. Don't leave anything out, either. I want to know all about this girl of yours." She smiled at him.
He smiled back, a little uncomfortably, but he did sit down and started to tell her. Not leaving anything out, he didn't let the sunset break the story. Just for now, he actually felt at home.
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Lunatic-High
- Baron
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Sip after sip of the flat beer found its way down Vicala's throat. She sat leaning back on a lone chair in the still crowded tavern, just as she had so many other nights lately. She could not quite remember the number of times she had decided to give up drinking, but for some reason that didn't matter to her. As long as deciding so made her recover her spirits, it felt alright.
The last few weeks she had sunk deeper into her self-pitying depression, and against better knowledge she sought comfort in the blurred world provided by alcohol. Thinking closer about it, she really couldn't even remember the reasons for her unhappiness, there was just an echo of lonesome emptiness, a sarcastic laugh, a yearning for something more. What? Didn't matter anymore.
She had transformed from self-assuredness and alertness to silence, bitterness and insecurity, a metamorphosis that even worried herself. When the insecurity grabbed hold of her she took her refuge to men she didn't even know, who could give her acknowledgement, if only for a while. And sometimes these men were no strangers at all. She emptied the bottle and tossed her feet up on the table. She was tired, too. All the thoughts encroached on her sleep.
Men, she thought. What a necessary evil. She pulled her hood down over her face and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to shut out the rest of the tavern. She had no desire whatsoever to begin a serious relationship with anyone, she saw no meaning in that. It wouldn't be like she wanted it to be anyway. But still, against her own wisdom and the advice of others, she had decided to give the foolhardy ranger a second chance, although she knew not why. All she knew was that she cared for him, and that she was tired of being alone. If only she could stop thinking about the other one as soon as she found herself restless and tired. Or sad. Or brisk or angry. Or happy, drunk, asleep, awake...
She sighed quietly to herself, something she did often nowadays, and then she burst into laughter. She could visualize it now, she'd be an excellent role model.
The last few weeks she had sunk deeper into her self-pitying depression, and against better knowledge she sought comfort in the blurred world provided by alcohol. Thinking closer about it, she really couldn't even remember the reasons for her unhappiness, there was just an echo of lonesome emptiness, a sarcastic laugh, a yearning for something more. What? Didn't matter anymore.
She had transformed from self-assuredness and alertness to silence, bitterness and insecurity, a metamorphosis that even worried herself. When the insecurity grabbed hold of her she took her refuge to men she didn't even know, who could give her acknowledgement, if only for a while. And sometimes these men were no strangers at all. She emptied the bottle and tossed her feet up on the table. She was tired, too. All the thoughts encroached on her sleep.
Men, she thought. What a necessary evil. She pulled her hood down over her face and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to shut out the rest of the tavern. She had no desire whatsoever to begin a serious relationship with anyone, she saw no meaning in that. It wouldn't be like she wanted it to be anyway. But still, against her own wisdom and the advice of others, she had decided to give the foolhardy ranger a second chance, although she knew not why. All she knew was that she cared for him, and that she was tired of being alone. If only she could stop thinking about the other one as soon as she found herself restless and tired. Or sad. Or brisk or angry. Or happy, drunk, asleep, awake...
She sighed quietly to herself, something she did often nowadays, and then she burst into laughter. She could visualize it now, she'd be an excellent role model.
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Some fellow
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Of course Raphael returned to Blackstone, as he always did. Not only did he miss helping people and actually being someone, not just second to someone. He also wanted to know what was up with Vicala. He had found himself thinking a lot about her lately.
The first few encounters were a little strange, meeting her in the company of others, especially the ranger, and perhaps speaking a little too openly about the past. He couldn't quite grasp the nature of their relationship, but one thing was for certain: he was not going to stand in the way of anything. If, indeed, there was anything.
And then one day, Vicala practically dragged him out into the Hamlet, looking very impatient and dead serious. "How much would you say my mother and my stepfather are capable of?" she asked him.
Only having met these creatures a few times, Raphael did not really know how to answer. "I... am sure they are capable of a great deal," he said, diplomatically.
"Indeed. You know, Reujah has come after my friends before, only to get his will through. Nicca is no different."
"Don't you trust your parents?" the cleric said, a little confused. Sure, they were tieflings, but still, shouldn't one be able to trust one's parents? He thought back to his weeks in the village. Obviously, their families were quite different.
"Oh, I trust them. That is, I trust their threats."
"So, why are they threatening you? What is this new will they are trying to get through?"
"They think it's time for me to get married." She looked disgusted.
"Is that so bad? You certainly have men to choose from."
She nodded like he had already made the point she was trying to make. "Men, yes. Now, my parents feel that my blood is diluted enough as it is. That I am somehow weakened. What with the booze and all." A slight sneer got onto her face. "Like I couldn't take care of myself."
"Diluted, eh?"
"That's the word they used. They gave me the whole speech about heritage and legacy and the entire point of the creation of their race, and I don't buy all that. I mean... from what I've heard about my father, with the piracy and the inebriation and the womanizing, being his daughter might not be something to be very proud of, but at least it gives me the option not to be a tiefling. Or so it should."
"So they want you to marry a tiefling?"
"Yes, that's pretty much it."
"And if you show interest in someone who's not a tiefling...?"
She sighed. "I'm afraid that would be the end of that person."
The first few encounters were a little strange, meeting her in the company of others, especially the ranger, and perhaps speaking a little too openly about the past. He couldn't quite grasp the nature of their relationship, but one thing was for certain: he was not going to stand in the way of anything. If, indeed, there was anything.
And then one day, Vicala practically dragged him out into the Hamlet, looking very impatient and dead serious. "How much would you say my mother and my stepfather are capable of?" she asked him.
Only having met these creatures a few times, Raphael did not really know how to answer. "I... am sure they are capable of a great deal," he said, diplomatically.
"Indeed. You know, Reujah has come after my friends before, only to get his will through. Nicca is no different."
"Don't you trust your parents?" the cleric said, a little confused. Sure, they were tieflings, but still, shouldn't one be able to trust one's parents? He thought back to his weeks in the village. Obviously, their families were quite different.
"Oh, I trust them. That is, I trust their threats."
"So, why are they threatening you? What is this new will they are trying to get through?"
"They think it's time for me to get married." She looked disgusted.
"Is that so bad? You certainly have men to choose from."
She nodded like he had already made the point she was trying to make. "Men, yes. Now, my parents feel that my blood is diluted enough as it is. That I am somehow weakened. What with the booze and all." A slight sneer got onto her face. "Like I couldn't take care of myself."
"Diluted, eh?"
"That's the word they used. They gave me the whole speech about heritage and legacy and the entire point of the creation of their race, and I don't buy all that. I mean... from what I've heard about my father, with the piracy and the inebriation and the womanizing, being his daughter might not be something to be very proud of, but at least it gives me the option not to be a tiefling. Or so it should."
"So they want you to marry a tiefling?"
"Yes, that's pretty much it."
"And if you show interest in someone who's not a tiefling...?"
She sighed. "I'm afraid that would be the end of that person."
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Lunatic-High
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"I knew you would come, daughter." Reujah grinned deviously at the flaming blade Vicala held against his throat, he then lifted his head to look at her. "I also knew you would turn to your anger, trying to deal with this problem."
Vicala swallowed, she had no idea what she had gotten herself into. She felt a tremble in her arm, almost strong enough to make her drop the sword, but she shook her head and tightened the grip around the handle. "Then you also know what this means?"
As the words passed her lips she knew someone would die this day. For a brief moment her thoughts went to her friends in Blackstone, the people that had offered to come with her, to help. She had left without them of course, not only because she didn't want to endanger their lives, she also didn't want them to see her like this. She had never been so terrified in her entire life.
"All this because I want what is best for you?" he asked calmly as he folded his arms across his chest. "You would think a little appreciation is in order."
She peered at him in the dim light without saying anything. She hadn't even noticed where she was. It was a small room, scarcely decorated but Vicala immediately recognized every fraction of it. She was home. She took a step back.
"Where is mother?" she asked and lowered her sword.
"Calm down Vicala," a deep female voice said from a dark corner of the room, and two bright blue eyes could be seen in the shadows. "Talk to Reujah, I believe he has something to tell you."
Reujah didn't move a muscle, he simply stared at her like he had done ever since she entered the house. "It is time you came home to Sigil, you need to be with your own. You are to wed a tiefling we have picked out for you."
Vicala shook her head again and lifted her sword once more, this time there was no doubt in her mind. "You take mother with you and go to Sigil, and never come back. I will kill you on sight, be assured."
A dark chuckle echoed between the walls as the dancing lights from the fireplace vanished, leaving nothing but the magical flames on Vicala's sword to light the room. "Fool," he hissed as a forceful power, unseen by all, hit Vicala's chest and made her fall backwards into the door. She dropped her sword and found herself half-sitting, half-lying on the floor.
"Y-you will regret that, tough guy," she stammered as she tried to get to her feet.
"Give it a rest, you pathetic excuse for a tiefling," he snorted as he grabbed her sword off the floor and walked over to Nicca. "We will have to consider ourselves lucky if anyone will have her."
She felt the rage clawing at her lungs, at her heart, she could taste blood in her mouth and her vision was clouded by anger. Just as she was about to get to her feet, Reujah turned around and glared at her. Complete silence. Then she fell forward, holding her head as she started to cry.
"Let me go home," she whimpered. "I already love someone, please let me go home..."
Reujah sighed heavily as he walked over to her and kneeled in front of her. He put a huge, black hand under her chin and lifted her tear soaked face to look at her. "I have wanted him dead once before. I will kill him on sight. Be assured."
At this moment, Vicala could barely see anything, due to her tears, her anger and the lack of light in the room, but she still managed to see Nicca standing behind Reujah, and there was something sad about the slight smile resting upon her pale lips. She leaned down to take the flaming sword from Reujah, and she swiftly handed it to Vicala. "I know the feeling," she said with a sigh.
Vicala didn't know what that meant, but as soon as she had the sword in her hand once again, her courage and self-assuredness returned to her, and with newfound strength she pointed the sword toward Reujah's chest. It all happened very quickly; with closed eyes Vicala forced the burning steel through the black flesh of the half-demon, who only smiled in return. His dark blood quickly covered Vicala's hands, and she stared at it without really knowing what she was looking at.
"Feels good, does it not?" Reujah said as he died.
Vicala swallowed, she had no idea what she had gotten herself into. She felt a tremble in her arm, almost strong enough to make her drop the sword, but she shook her head and tightened the grip around the handle. "Then you also know what this means?"
As the words passed her lips she knew someone would die this day. For a brief moment her thoughts went to her friends in Blackstone, the people that had offered to come with her, to help. She had left without them of course, not only because she didn't want to endanger their lives, she also didn't want them to see her like this. She had never been so terrified in her entire life.
"All this because I want what is best for you?" he asked calmly as he folded his arms across his chest. "You would think a little appreciation is in order."
She peered at him in the dim light without saying anything. She hadn't even noticed where she was. It was a small room, scarcely decorated but Vicala immediately recognized every fraction of it. She was home. She took a step back.
"Where is mother?" she asked and lowered her sword.
"Calm down Vicala," a deep female voice said from a dark corner of the room, and two bright blue eyes could be seen in the shadows. "Talk to Reujah, I believe he has something to tell you."
Reujah didn't move a muscle, he simply stared at her like he had done ever since she entered the house. "It is time you came home to Sigil, you need to be with your own. You are to wed a tiefling we have picked out for you."
Vicala shook her head again and lifted her sword once more, this time there was no doubt in her mind. "You take mother with you and go to Sigil, and never come back. I will kill you on sight, be assured."
A dark chuckle echoed between the walls as the dancing lights from the fireplace vanished, leaving nothing but the magical flames on Vicala's sword to light the room. "Fool," he hissed as a forceful power, unseen by all, hit Vicala's chest and made her fall backwards into the door. She dropped her sword and found herself half-sitting, half-lying on the floor.
"Y-you will regret that, tough guy," she stammered as she tried to get to her feet.
"Give it a rest, you pathetic excuse for a tiefling," he snorted as he grabbed her sword off the floor and walked over to Nicca. "We will have to consider ourselves lucky if anyone will have her."
She felt the rage clawing at her lungs, at her heart, she could taste blood in her mouth and her vision was clouded by anger. Just as she was about to get to her feet, Reujah turned around and glared at her. Complete silence. Then she fell forward, holding her head as she started to cry.
"Let me go home," she whimpered. "I already love someone, please let me go home..."
Reujah sighed heavily as he walked over to her and kneeled in front of her. He put a huge, black hand under her chin and lifted her tear soaked face to look at her. "I have wanted him dead once before. I will kill him on sight. Be assured."
At this moment, Vicala could barely see anything, due to her tears, her anger and the lack of light in the room, but she still managed to see Nicca standing behind Reujah, and there was something sad about the slight smile resting upon her pale lips. She leaned down to take the flaming sword from Reujah, and she swiftly handed it to Vicala. "I know the feeling," she said with a sigh.
Vicala didn't know what that meant, but as soon as she had the sword in her hand once again, her courage and self-assuredness returned to her, and with newfound strength she pointed the sword toward Reujah's chest. It all happened very quickly; with closed eyes Vicala forced the burning steel through the black flesh of the half-demon, who only smiled in return. His dark blood quickly covered Vicala's hands, and she stared at it without really knowing what she was looking at.
"Feels good, does it not?" Reujah said as he died.
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Some fellow
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"Get it over with," Vicala said, impatiently, "so we can leave this moronic matter behind us."
"I don't understand," said the cleric. "If you don't really want this checked out, then why did you come to me in the first place?"
"Because they just won't shut up! I figure if you say it's nothing, they'll listen. I mean, you're a cleric, you heal people, that's what you do."
"Ah," said Raphael. "'They' being... the ranger and the red one?"
Vicala nodded. "Of course. Men." She sneered. "A conspiracy against me, that's what it is. Apparently Nicca told forest boy about it. She denies it, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised if my mother were in on the conspiracy against me. Sounds about right, doesn't it?"
Raphael looked sympathetically at her. "All right, let's get this over with, as you say." He sank into a state of deep meditation. For a minute or two, Vicala wondered if he had fallen asleep, but then he suddenly sprung to life. "This doesn't work," he said. "Too much energy in this room. Let's go to an empty one."
Finding an empty room in the keep proved difficult, but eventually they ended up in the portal room beneath the Playful Maiden. The meditation procedure once again. And then, slowly, the cleric's hand reached out to touch her forehead. When he finally returned to consciousness, he had a confused expression on his face.
"So," said Vicala, "what do you make of it?"
Raphael spoke slowly. "I'm not sure, Vicala. There is... something. It's not a disease, nothing I can heal. It's not a poison, of course. It's not a spell, at least not one that I know of. But there's certainly something. Some kind of... transformation."
"Huh. So there is something. Do you think it began when I met with Reujah then?"
"It may very well have. Do you recall anything extraordinary happening?"
She thought about it for a while. "Well, uh... he did this thing," she motioned to her chest. "As if he hit me, but he didn't move a muscle. I just thought it was a spell...? Dunno, I know nothing of this mumbo-jumbo. Is it, uh, dangerous?"
"I'm sorry, Vicala, but I really can't tell. This thing worries me, but I have no idea how to proceed from here, or what will become of this. I am very sorry."
"I don't understand," said the cleric. "If you don't really want this checked out, then why did you come to me in the first place?"
"Because they just won't shut up! I figure if you say it's nothing, they'll listen. I mean, you're a cleric, you heal people, that's what you do."
"Ah," said Raphael. "'They' being... the ranger and the red one?"
Vicala nodded. "Of course. Men." She sneered. "A conspiracy against me, that's what it is. Apparently Nicca told forest boy about it. She denies it, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised if my mother were in on the conspiracy against me. Sounds about right, doesn't it?"
Raphael looked sympathetically at her. "All right, let's get this over with, as you say." He sank into a state of deep meditation. For a minute or two, Vicala wondered if he had fallen asleep, but then he suddenly sprung to life. "This doesn't work," he said. "Too much energy in this room. Let's go to an empty one."
Finding an empty room in the keep proved difficult, but eventually they ended up in the portal room beneath the Playful Maiden. The meditation procedure once again. And then, slowly, the cleric's hand reached out to touch her forehead. When he finally returned to consciousness, he had a confused expression on his face.
"So," said Vicala, "what do you make of it?"
Raphael spoke slowly. "I'm not sure, Vicala. There is... something. It's not a disease, nothing I can heal. It's not a poison, of course. It's not a spell, at least not one that I know of. But there's certainly something. Some kind of... transformation."
"Huh. So there is something. Do you think it began when I met with Reujah then?"
"It may very well have. Do you recall anything extraordinary happening?"
She thought about it for a while. "Well, uh... he did this thing," she motioned to her chest. "As if he hit me, but he didn't move a muscle. I just thought it was a spell...? Dunno, I know nothing of this mumbo-jumbo. Is it, uh, dangerous?"
"I'm sorry, Vicala, but I really can't tell. This thing worries me, but I have no idea how to proceed from here, or what will become of this. I am very sorry."
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Lunatic-High
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A few pages, torn from a journal, are lying by the portal in Skara Brae. The words are hastily scribbled down, but seem to be made by a determined hand...
[...] makes me really wish I had kicked him somewhere special. Anyway, speaking of men, I have a hard time being in the presence of Raph. I don't know why, it just feels strange. He gives me these looks, who knows what the hell they mean. I think he likes me a little more than he claims. Of course I love him, he saved my life. My human life anyway. He actually managed to stop the transformation with some strange ritual, I think I am no longer part tiefling, whatever that means. Somehow I feel weaker, like something is missing, but I guess I'll just have to deal with it.
And deal with it I will, because... well, I think things are finally going my way, for once. Believe it or not, I actually think I'm content right now. Considering the circumstances, I guess no one is really surprised. Let's just hope Galen has no regrets...
Mother has returned to Blackstone by the way. Ha. I haven't met her since the transformation ended, I can't wait to rub it in her face. I think she was in on the whole thing too, she was never happy with the fact I was more human than demon. She must be furious now, knowing there is no chance of making me one of her kind. But I wonder...
I think Reujah did something to her; she was never this bitter and cold-hearted before she met him. Deep down inside, I think she's still in love with the captain. I've heard her cry from time to time over the years, only people that care do that. Pretty simple. Maybe she will be happy again some day, not that I [...]