a nameless, dying world across several Membranes from Anarand'aris
year 4.208 LA (approx.)
the outskirts of the city-state of Erkhnator

The majestic towers of Erkhnator disappeared one by one into the approaching wall of infinite darkness and undulating shadows. From this distance, roughly ten kilometers, the view was both imposing and overwhelming in its scale and impact. In the last moments before a new fragment of the world was consumed, its fabric of reality thinned and bent like a green leaf in a fire, just before it was blackened and reduced to ash by the flames. Even at this distance, the cacophony of sounds emanating from the bowels of the boiling Chaos wave was loud enough to make the hairs on the back of Ra'maen's neck stand on end. She allowed herself to stop and gaze with grudging admiration at the raging element for a few precious minutes. After all, how often did she get to watch the slow death of an entire world from so close? Even for individuals of her own race—the immortal Ettelians—such an opportunity presented itself only rarely. And Ra'maen was not one to pass up rare opportunities.

She wondered once again, what was there beyond the wave of approaching darkness, possessed as if by its own incomprehensible and alien life? Were there at least fragments of the consumed worlds remaining inside, or was all of it becoming an intrinsic part of the seething and formless mass? Well, something like a world had to exist, Ra'maen reasoned. After all, they came from somewhere. Although, to her knowledge, while none of the Ettelians had yet glimpsed Artoh-Daggaras, its existence was an accepted fact. Still, fact or not, the Chaos realm remained one of Niamaru's greatest mysteries. Ra'maen loathed riddles whose answers lay beyond her capabilities. But that would change if her plan succeeded...

This brought her attention back to the writhing bundle under her left arm. The cursed child would not give up fighting, despite the obvious futility of resistance. Didn't she realize Ra'maen was saving her from a fate far worse than death? Hidden behind the white mask, her lips stretched into a satisfied smile as she continued into the loose grove. That's precisely the spirit she needed. Anything less would not be worth the effort. Now, if the d'amon would also fulfill his end of the bargain... But why wouldn't he? He had his own agenda in their daring experiment. It would be foolish of him to give up now, right at the finale... If only the rascal dared to cross her! Ra'maen would find him and tear him apart like... like... like a pale-skinned, slimy slug!... Well, like a pale, muscular, enigmatic, intelligent, stunningly charming slug.

Ra'maen felt a delightful warmth spread across her loins; heat, accompanied by moisture and pleasant chills. It made her feel better. A lot better. How much of her arousal was caused by her own bloodthirsty thoughts, and how much by the mental image of her mysterious partner, even Ra'maen herself could not tell. It was just in her basic nature. For a very long time, pleasure and violence were just different sides of the same coin.

Soon she saw the twisted and almost withered tree in the center of a small clearing, marking the place of their arranged rendezvous. He still hadn't come, so Ra'maen unceremoniously dropped the wriggling bundle to the ground and said in a cold, commanding voice,

"You can stop squirming like a crushed worm! We have arrived."

However, the struggle continued awhile longer, until the reddened and tear-soaked face of a thirteen-year-old girl appeared from under the rolled-up blanket.

"Where am I?! Who are you?!" she shrieked, but her voice sounded more angry than scared. The girl broke free from her restraints and jumped to her feet. "Where is my father?... Dad! Dad!"

Ra'maen's lips curled in disgust and she slapped her with a well-measured blow across the mouth. This caused the youngling to sit back down on the ground, fall silent and stare at her with an expression frozen somewhere between fear and disbelief. It was doubtful that anyone had ever raised their hand to Princess Elania Erkhnat, the daughter of King Euros, before.

"Be quiet!" Ra'maen hissed and loomed over her. "Do you want to bring all the d'amoni from the nearby area upon us?"

Elania's eyes widened, and her face turned pale as she looked around in horror. There was hardly any truth in Ra'maen's statement. This world was doomed, and the last legions of Chaos had probably already left these lands in search of new conquests. But a little extra fear in the girl wouldn't hurt. If nothing else, it would at least make her obey.

"Where is my father?" Even though Elania's voice trembled, her tone carried the arrogance of a Princess and the undeniable expectation of an answer.

"King Euros Erkhnat is dead, and the entire population of Erkhnator has shared his unfortunate fate. Except for yourself, of course."

Elania's face paled at her words.

"No... no..." the girl's eyes filled with tears. "You are lying!" she cried, then jumped to her feet. "Why are you speaking like that?!"

In response, Ra'maen pointed her index finger, topped with a sharp crimson claw, at the oncoming wave of Chaos. The last tower of the grand city was just disappearing into the raging shadows. That punctuated her gesture in a particularly fitting way, rendering any words superfluous. Elania's tears welled up again, and she fell to her knees, sobbing.

"Oh, Dad..." the girl whispered, clenching her fists around bundles of thick grass that covered the meadow.

"You should be grateful to me, Elania," Ra'maen said, some of the irritation she felt creeping into her voice. "If it wasn't for me, you would now be part of that black filth. Believe me, this is not a fate you would wish upon yourself."

"Who are you?" The girl raised her wet eyes towards the white and impersonal mask that hid her captor's face. "How dare you do this to me?"

"Ungrateful child!" Ra'maen didn't bother slapping her again. "I am Ra'maen of the Immortals, the Purple Queen of Erod'Sarahoos, thirteenth in Elian'karras." Thirteenth, but not for long if her plan worked. "Try to remember that when you talk to me in the future, or I'll rip your impudent tongue out!"

The girl cringed at the fury in Ra'maen's words and tears continued to flow down her cheeks, but she still found the courage to ask,

"What... What do you intend to do with me?"

"Oh, isn't that obvious?" Ra'maen's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "I decided to save you from an untimely and terrible death."

"Why?" whispered Elania, who, despite the fright, had not completely lost her presence of mind and her ability to reason.

Yes, the Princess would do perfectly for her plan. A powerful spirit in a firm body. Just the combination Ra'maen needed. Besides, Elania was a pretty girl and would one day become a beautiful woman. An added benefit, though optional for her purposes, but then Ra'maen loved beautiful things. Her mood instantly improved, and she chuckled.

"Maybe it is because I am so good," said Ra'maen sweetly, then continued in a crushingly contrasting tone, "You will owe me a favor, Elania Erkhnat, and one day when you grow old and start thinking that it was all a nightmare, I am going to claim it. Any further questions?"

The girl shook her head, clearly shocked by Ra'maen's direct response. All the better. She was tiring of her endless querying. Why this, why that... Where was that damned d'amon lingering? Time was running out on this world, and another such opportunity might not open soon...

As if triggered by her thoughts, at the far end of the clearing, reality tore like a time-worn fabric, and through the hole appeared the same undulating ink that made up the advancing wave of Chaos. The cacophony of sounds that until now had only sounded in the distance burst into the small meadow with beastly force, causing Elania to shriek in terror. Even Ra'maen herself bristled, if only as a physical reaction to the wicked nature of Chaos. The gray-black mass swelled menacingly from the hole in space, as if at any moment it would spill out like molten tar and engulf everything in its path. Instead, an imposing figure clad in strange and alien-looking armor stepped out from within. Elania screamed again, but both the newcomer and Ra'maen paid her no heed. Both of them were too busy staring at each other. The man was tall and of a sturdy but elegant build, two qualities Ra'maen adored. The armor, fearsome and studded with sharp edges, enclosed his entire body, leaving only his head exposed. That's where the similarities to a human being ended. The shoulder-length, fiery red and wild hair looked unnaturally wiry and thick, and seemed to move of its own volition. The face was a vague and ever-changing mask, composed of a dense, pale mist and dancing shadows. In it, only the eyes, all blue and piercing with their small white pupils, remained unchanged. Ra'maen wasn't sure if this was the d'amon's true essence or a glamorous Chaos Magic. But in their previous encounters, when he had worn clothes more suited to an evening ball than a battlefield, the uncovered parts of his body had appeared similarly. Ra'maen found this fascinating, and she was determined to find out more, eventually. Still, the d'amon was late for his meeting with her, and she wasn't about to let that go unaddressed.

"Oh, and if it isn't the long-awaited Lord Kuor Adamarant," Ra'maen stated with feigned excitement, then injected some venom in her words, "Had you delayed any longer, this place would have ceased to exist!"

"Lady Ra'maen," he said in a flat, emotionless voice, and bowed. Despite his armor, the bow somehow managed to come off as gallant. "It is always such a pleasure to find you in good spirits."

Ra'maen snorted in response. Men!

"Oh, indeed?"

"Of course," he tilted his head, and the hole in reality behind him closed like a miraculously healed mortal wound. "I see you have found a vessel for our purposes."

With these words, Lord Adamarant approached the girl, who was watching with wide eyes the exchange between the two of them from her place on the grass. Elania tried to back away, crawling frantically, but he grabbed her by her long, blond hair and lifted her into the air, eyeing her as if she were a chicken for sale. She cried out once in pain and fear, but when her eyes met the d'amon's, all thoughts of resistance left her and her body went limp like a rag doll.

Ra'maen watched the scene with both curiosity and a touch of resentment at his treatment. It had cost her considerable effort to get the Princess unscathed from her father's vigilant guards, and then through the utter anarchy of the now obliterated city. If anyone at all had the right to treat her like that, it was Ra'maen herself and no one else.

"Be careful not to hurt her with your clumsy moves and sharp armor!" she said without hiding the sharpness of her tone. "We'll need her intact!"

"As you say, Lady Ra'maen," he released Elania back to the ground.

The girl whimpered and hurried back ten paces away from him, but also to an equal distance from Ra'maen herself. Ungrateful scamp...

"Did you succeed in obtaining the other necessary component?" asked Lord Adamarant, turning his attention back to Ra'maen.

Had she succeeded? And how! She smiled triumphantly behind the mask, pulled a small crystal sphere from her pocket and let it roll into the middle of her open palm. At the center of the orb, a bright crimson light pulsated, almost to the rhythm of a living heart.

"Oh, of course!" she allowed some of the smugness to creep into her voice. "I must point out, Lord Adamarant, that the artifact's Magic—the or'dain—proved to be far more effective than I expected."

"I have worked a full cycle on it, Lady Ra'maen," his flat voice lacked any trace of boasting or vanity. The d'amon was merely stating a fact. "It would surprise me to learn of a different outcome."

Ra'maen clenched her teeth, their needle-sharp points grinding behind the mask. The d'amon had brushed her compliment off as if it meant nothing. Who did this damned arrogant man think he was?

"And where is your part of the agreed work?" she spat through her teeth, as if accusing him.

"Here," unfazed by her tone, he pointed the sharp tip of the metal gauntlet towards himself. "I will use my own power as a catalyst."

"Oh, is that so?" Ra'maen lost her composure for a moment, unable to respond. His decision was unexpected and unsettling. She hadn't calculated such a move, mostly because of the considerable risk that accompanied what they were about to do. What insidious game was the d'amon playing? What did he expect to accomplish? Was he trying to influence the outcome of the experiment in his favor? Worst of all, Ra'maen was left with a foregone conclusion. Of course, she could still drop everything and leave with the or'dain, which alone was a significant gain... But that meant giving up on her plans. Ra'maen hated it when her plans failed, and even less when her partners outplayed her. Damned, secretive, deceitful d'amon! "Why did you decide to risk your immortality, Lord Adamarant?"

He shrugged and walked over to the withered tree.

"Out of boredom, Lady Ra'maen," he said, turning his back. "And mayhap some curiosity."

Boredom and curiosity, as much as Ra'maen had balls! The impudent d'amon was daring to lie to her in such an insultingly obvious way! It took an enormous effort to keep her flaring power under control, just to not tear the flesh from the wretch's bones and bathe in his blood... if there were any such things in his body at all. Well, this armor, as decorative as it looked, had to protect something important... Hm, what was underneath it anyway?

"Doesn't sound like a convincing reason to me," she bit at him, her eyes seeming to dig deep, bloody holes in his back.

"That is me, Lady Ra'maen, spawn of Moritan," Lord Adamarant spread his arms theatrically, but his tone remained flat, emotionless. He turned and looked at her with his piercing, unblinking eyes. "You have a choice. Either we continue with the ritual now or we each go our separate ways."

Ra'maen was in the more disadvantaged position between them, and he was well aware of it. It was far too late now to create a new or'dain, and she wasn't at all sure she wanted to take such a risk. Cursed, treacherous d'amon! Her instincts screamed at her to rip him apart where he stood, her pride screamed at her to abandon the whole thing and walk away. But her desire to complete the process and see the result of their long efforts prevailed over everything else. No, she would not give up now, so close to success. And regarding Kuor Adamarant's secret plans... She smiled behind her mask. The game between them was just beginning, and it was about to get much more interesting. Besides, the chances of the d'amon not surviving the experiment were high. If she was lucky, some of her problems would be solved right here and now.

"Oh very well, Lord Adamarant," Ra'maen tried to sound as if she didn't care. "Let's begin!"

He nodded and turned to Elania, who had paled at Ra'maen's words and was now crawling backwards as far away from the two of them as possible.

"Come here, child!" said the d'amon. The girl shook her head in silent horror and continued to pull away. He continued to watch her for a few more moments, then waved his hand and Elania collapsed onto the grass without a sound. "She need not be conscious during the process."

Ra'maen raised an eyebrow but didn't show her surprise. Was this some form of compassion? No, it couldn't be. Even if d'amoni were capable of such feelings, they would hardly be directed at human beings. One look at the wall of Chaos that had only moments ago engulfed the last surviving city in this world was enough to convince her otherwise. Probably the d'amon wanted to save himself from further trouble and whining by the girl.

"As you wish," she said with exaggerated indifference. "Shall we start already?"

"Yes," he nodded, clasping his hands in front of his face and closing his eyes—whether in prayer or to prepare for the spell, Ra'maen couldn't tell.

After a minute, the d'amon began to move his palms away millimeter by millimeter. Something strange began to take shape between them and Ra'maen focused her gaze there, eager to see and learn more. What initially looked like a black dot grew as the palms moved away and took on the appearance of a miniature star—if only stars could emit darkness instead of light. Overcome with curiosity, she took a few steps closer and opened her magical senses, attempting to understand what exactly he was doing.

It was Chaos Magic, as far as Ra'maen could tell. Some patterns looked vaguely familiar, but overall the Magic of the Chaos realm was as alien and unnatural to Ettelians as the air was to fish. Try as she might, Ra'maen could never understand or use it. She would have something equally good, however, if her plan succeeded...

A shift inside the black star brought her attention back to d'amon's spell. A small, dark red core had formed in its center. It seemed to move and spin independently of the pulsation of its dark shell, and Ra'maen found that movement captivating.

Most unexpectedly, there was a bright flash, accompanied by a low crack. When Ra'maen regained her sight, a small sphere, as black as a moonless night, had appeared in the d'amon's hands. Similar to the or'dain she held in her left palm, a tiny, crimson light pulsed in the center of the black orb. Ra'maen looked at the d'amon with a mixture of admiration and dislike, both born of the display of power. She knew, from personal experience, how excruciatingly painful the process he had just gone through was. For her extraction, Ra'maen had used a catalyst. And rightfully so—the soul she had captured for her ritual was annihilated. Even with it, the agony was nearly unbearable. Yet here, before her eyes, Kuor Adamarant not only separated a particle of his own soul without an external catalyst, but he didn't even flinch. For a moment, Ra'maen remembered the spell she cast and what was left of the wretch's soul, and involuntarily shuddered. Somewhere deep inside her, where a tiny part of her humanity still survived, she felt awe and reverence for the d'amon's intellect. What Kuor Adamarant had created... Well, it was no coincidence that he was counted among the most feared of the Chaoslords in Moritan's hordes.

Their eyes met.

"Here is my contribution to our common goal, Lady Ra'maen." His voice was weaker than before and his face had darkened, taking on a peculiar bluish hue.

She wondered how much the spell had drained from the d'amon. Maybe if she got rid of him now, when he was so weak... But no, the process wasn't over yet and she needed his help. Furthermore, Ra'maen did not like to eliminate her most promising opponents when they could not offer her a challenge. There was nothing fun or satisfying about that.

"I can see that, Lord Adamarant," her smile was chilling behind the mask and she let it creep into her next words. "Are you ready for the next step, or should I wait until you gather your strength?"

"I need no rest, Lady Ra'maen."

Because of the lack of emotion in his voice, as well as anything remotely close to an expression on his face, Ra'maen found it near impossible to decipher the d'amon's thoughts and feelings. Something she usually had no problem with when dealing with amoni—that is, human beings—or the members of her own race. She found this both infuriating and so extremely intriguing. Perhaps once the urgent work here was done, the two could devote themselves to other pursuits...

"Let's continue then!" she waved her hand and approached the unconscious Elania.

The d'amon followed her and the two stood facing each other on either side of the girl. In their outstretched hands, gleaming as if alive, were the two crystal spheres—one as clear as a freshly shed tear, the other as black as a drop of tar. For the first time since the beginning of this endeavor, Ra'maen felt genuine excitement, mixed with a certain amount of uncertainty. The two were about to try something unique; something that had never been done or even considered in such detail and depth. It had taken over one full cycle to prepare for this, a time equivalent to dozens of standard human lifetimes. And here, at last, the moment had come to set it all in motion.

Ra'maen nodded to the d'amon to show she was ready, then unfolded her t'iar in all its glory and began to arrange the words of the first part of the ritual. Instantly, the elements of Magic formed around her the initial patterns of the spell. Along with her, Kuor Adamarant wove the writhing strands of his—Moritan's—Magic. Soon their voices mingled in synchronicity, otherwise uncommon for their native languages. And synchronicity was of great importance. This aspect had proved to be one of the greatest difficulties in composing the individual fragments... But that was all in the past, Ra'maen reminded herself and turned her full attention back to the spell. Concentration was just as important. She ignored the expiring time of the world around her, the approaching wall of raging Chaos, and the insidious tentacles of weariness that crept up on her as the ritual progressed.

The two spheres rose from their owners' palms and swelled like soap bubbles. Their cores throbbed more and more furiously and finally thumped with unprecedented force—a silent protest to what was happening to them. Ra'maen sensed the growing resistance of the white or'dain and put more and more of her will into keeping it under control. It was hard, terribly hard. Its unleashed power was incredible, and in a moment of doubt, Ra'maen wondered if what they were creating would be too powerful to be controlled. But it was already too late for such hesitations. Once begun, the ritual could not be safely interrupted. She had to hold out until the very end... or risk burning her own power, sunk so deeply into the interwoven patterns of two opposingly alien Magic sources.

The two or'dains had now grown to the size of human heads, their shells thinned to the limit. Millimeter by millimeter, the spheres moved into each other, gradually occupying the same place in space and time. Soon, soon... Ra'maen braced himself for the inevitable, and just in time—completing their fusion, the spheres ceased to exist and the elements raging within them were suddenly set free. Even prepared, she reeled at the raw power that slammed against her. Every ounce of will Ra'maen could muster, she threw into the effort of keeping her half under control until the web of the spell captured the released energy and shaped it for their purposes. The result was both beautiful and terrifying—alien forces clashing with each other, intertwined in immensely complex patterns, layer upon layer upon layer and so on, to infinity. This was perhaps the most critical moment in the ritual, and Ra'maen could feel her tension and fear rising. A single mistake in the weaving of the Magic, a single flaw in the patterns, and the entire unimaginably complex structure would unravel. The consequences of this would be unpredictable.

But neither of them had made a mistake, and the spell held. Ra'maen let out an unconscious sigh and met the d'amon's gaze. His blue eyes were shining, and if there was a mouth under the white haze of his face, it was surely curved into a wide smile. With that, the moment of respite and shared triumph ended, and they both turned their attention back to the twirling Magic. The two or'dains materialized at their original size and smoothly returned to their owners' palms, but the pulsating power within them had visibly weakened. Now, the last part of the ritual remained.

Their words rang out again, and the tangle of energy unfurled like some strange snake. The free end shot down and dove low into the belly of the still sleeping Elania. The flow of power stretched her body like an unwound spring, causing it to rise about a meter above the ground. Even now, the d'amon's Magic kept the girl unconscious. The patterns continued to unfold and, one by one, sink into her without a trace, until finally nothing remained outside. Ra'maen and the d'amon completed the spell in perfect synchrony, and freed from the flow of energy, Elania's body fell back onto the grass. The girl would wake up bruised, but that was irrelevant. The ritual had been completed, and it was a success!

"Congratulations, Lord Adamarant," Ra'maen said. Hearing the weariness in her voice proved an unpleasant surprise. "You did your part perfectly."

"As did you, Lady Ra'maen," his voice wasn't much above a whisper.

The d'amon crouched and placed a palm on Elania's stomach. Even in her sleep, she stirred under his touch, as if to shake off an insect that had crawled upon her.

"The girl is fine, and the seed is in its place," he said after a minute and stood up. "As we envisioned, her firstborn child will carry within it the forces of our two poles. Where do you intend to hide her until then?"

For a moment Ra'maen was tempted to lie to him. But he would expose the lie soon, and she still wasn't sure how far her own plans for the d'amon spread. So she indulged his question.

"In Anarand'aris."

"Anarand'aris!" the word came out of his mouth as if it was a curse.

And no wonder. Anarand'aris was the only world that had ever escaped Moritan's clutches. There was no Chaoslord alive today who could pronounce that name differently. Ah, how self-satisfying were her next words:

"Oh, but yes! It is the sole world that remains forever outside the reach of Chaos. And you yourself know what would happen to the girl if Moritan ever found out about her and what she carries inside... Besides, Ylirien and Anestion and their entire gang have no reason to go back there, which is an extra advantage for our purposes. They would act no less extreme than your Master when it comes to such a thing."

He didn't reply, but he'd evidently considered her arguments because he eventually nodded in agreement. Ra'maen could see that he did not like her plan one bit. The restrictions on Moritan applied in full to his spawn. This meant that after today, Kuor Adamarant would have no chance of reaching Elania or her baby... Unless the Pillars of Anarand'aris somehow collapsed. Rather, it was much more likely that the advancing Chaos wall would reverse its advance and spit out this entire world unscathed. Ra'maen smiled behind the mask, pleased with the turn of events. Regardless of the d'amon's secret plans, the girl remained under her control now and forever.

"Now, since you have no objections, Lord Adamarant, we will prepare to leave your wonderful company," Ra'maen stated, intending to tease him, and lifted Elania's limp body under her arm as if it were a simple duffel bag.

"I leave her in your care, Lady Ra'maen," he raised a hand to stop her. "But that does not mean at all that I intend to be left in the blind. I want your word that I will receive detailed information about her development and the outcome of our experiment. Speak an Oath of binding, or the girl will not leave this world."

His request was driven by desperation, and Ra'maen knew it, but still his words inflamed her fury. Swear an Oath?! What was this impudent, wretched—?

"My rights over her are equal to yours," he rushed on, sensing her mood. "I know well that once in Anarand'aris, the girl remains beyond my reach. I want a small allowance from you, Lady Ra'maen, just regular and detailed information about everything related to her. Speak the Oath and I will let you proceed."

He was right, of course. Ra'maen still felt as if she had been outwitted by the d'amon yet again. Her Ettelian Oath was the only way Kuor Adamarant could be sure she would keep her promise. Ra'maen had spoken such only twice in her long life, and she regretted it to this day. The third time will be no different for sure. She wondered, not in jest, if she should attack d'amon after all and try to get away with the girl. After using so much Magic she felt exhausted, but so was he, and before that he had created an or'dain from his own soul. She could overpower him—in time, maybe. But the wall of Chaos had come dangerously close while they were busy performing the ritual. This world was at an end, and a fight between beings with their powers would take too long. Was Elania Erkhnat and what was now within her worth as much as an unbreakable Oath? Most disgusting of all, the answer to this question lay in the foreseeable, but still shrouded in dense fog, future. Ra'maen had no choice but to continue playing this game blindfolded.

"Oh, very well," she exposed the venom in her words. It still took great effort to speak the Oath aloud. "I, Ra'maen of the Ettelians, swear in the Core of Niamaru that I will share with you, Lord Adamarant, all, intact and detailed information regarding Elania and her offspring upon request by you within a reasonably short time."

Uttering the last word, Ra'maen felt the Oath sink deep into her, taking root like some hideous, indestructible parasite. She felt like throwing up.

"Thank you, Lady Ra'maen," the d'amon bowed his head, as if he could even fathom how much this had cost her. Damn idiot! "The girl will wake up on her own after a while. It is high time for you to go." He looked at the roaring and raging element less than a kilometer from their sheltered location. "This world will soon become one with the Great Chaos."

Ra'maen gave him a murderous look. She had His Highness' permission to leave, huh? Cursed, mist-skinned, shape-shifting, slug...

"You know how to find me, Lord Adamarant," she said through gritted teeth and without looking at him again, headed for the invisible strip in spacetime where this world ended and the territory of the Membrane began.

The road to Anarand'aris would be long and difficult. Ra'maen hated traveling in a body between worlds, but in this case it was necessary. The prospect of crossing multiple Membranes on foot, dragging the girl along with her, did little to improve her mood. Good thing Elania was unconscious for now, and she didn't have to listen to her obnoxious whining. Determined to cover as much distance as she could before her confidant awoke, Ra'maen ran towards the end of the world.

***