Unbound

Beorn was a little surprised that Talorc didn't understand what a doll was though. "Is e dèideag leanabh nighean a th ’ann an doll." Beorn was already frustrated with Veln's cowardice, but he knew he had to deal with Tolorc first.  He ran the translation through his head.  His words were fair.  In another world, he might have even agreed with him.  But he knew of the higher powers of God. " Chan eil mi ag ràdh gu bheil thu eòlach air do chridhe, ach bha thu deònach fuireach nad làimh. Carson nach fhaic thu daoine eile mar do cho-dhuine an àite Saxon, Beurla, no Wealder? A bheil tagradh nas fheàrr agad na feadhainn eile? Nach eil fios agad ma bheir thu bho na daoine sin is dòcha gu bheil thu a ’sgoltadh an amhaich. Is e seo am beòshlaint. Tha, tha thu a’ faighinn buannachd sa gheàrr-ùine, ach feumaidh eagal a bhith ort bho do chompanaich. Nuair a thig thu tarsainn air duais a tha fear eile ag iarraidh, an uairsin tha an tagradh aige ann an tha inntinn nas airidh air an fheadhainn agadsa. Is e seo an duilgheadas le do shlighe. Nach deach do chuir a-steach do thràilleachd leis gu bheil neach eile a ’tagradh barrachd do bhodhaig na thusa?" Gaelic: "Doll is girl child's toy." "I do not claim to know your heart, but you were willing to stay your hand.  Why can you not see others as your fellow man instead of Saxon, English, or Wealder?  Do you have better claim than others?  Do you not know that if you take from these people you might as well slit their throats.  This is their livelihood.  Yes, you benefit short term, but you have to fear from your companions.  When you come across a trophy that another wants, then his claim in his mind is more worthy than yours.  This is the problem with your way.  Were you not put into slavery because another laid more claim your body than you?" 

Veln doesn't understand the words but he can feel the tension, almost tactile to his heightened senses. He looks up at Alric to confirm the look in his eyes what he thinks they speak of, and then focuses on the calm firmness of Beorn's voice at the contained irritation he sensed from Talorc. He then glances over his shoulder to make sure Godwin or Edith are not in hearing range. A language that is foreign to him may mean a foe in these lands. He ponders the girl again, and the innocence of an old weathered doll. Maybe if he asked to touch the girl somehow; not take it from the child but just touch it he could confirm or refute Beorn's conviction. But that was not important for the boy worried newfound friends would be turning on each other.

Talorc snorts. " Chan eil dragh agam a bheil iad Saxon, Cuimreach, fosgailte no dealbh. Tha mi a ’gabhail cùram nach urrainn dhaibh na tha aca a chumail. Tha mo chòir le neart, agus chan eil mi a ’toirt an cuirp, ach am biadh agus an aodach. Is ann le mo neart thairis air an cuid, tha iad a ’fuireach an seo le tròcair an fheadhainn as làidire, agus airson a-nis tha na feumalachdan agam a’ toirt neart dhomh. Ma dh ’fhàsas mi reamhar agus toilichte le bounty agus a’ dearmad neart mo ghàirdean, an uairsin bheir feadhainn eile na tha agam bhuam mar a tha còir aca. Tha an smaoineachadh sin gam chumail làidir agus diongmhalta. Is e sin as coireach gu bheil mi a ’sabaid a-nis, agus a’ cruthachadh cinneadh ùr, nuair a bhios mi sean agus lag, bidh luach fhathast aig an eòlas agam airson mo chinneadh agus cumaidh iad mi. Is urrainn dhomh rabhadh a thoirt dhaibh mun amaideachd seo agus na thig às." He turns back to the others with a booming laugh, not waiting for any reply. Striding towards them with a mocking tone. He shouts at them over hoots of laughter. "You are strange. You fear doll? Come. Talorc show you how to fix 'doll' problem." He makes a little childish mocking skip and marches towards the farm house. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I care not whether they are Saxon, welsh, frank or pict. I care that they cannot hold what they have. My right is by strength, and I do not take their bodies, but their food and clothes. Right is by my strength over theirs, they live here by the mercy of those stronger, and for now my needs give me strength. If I become fat and glad with bounty and neglect the strength of my arm, then others will take what I have from me as is their right. That thought keeps me strong and determined. That is why I fight now, and form a new clan, that when I am old and weak, my experience will still have value for my clan and they will keep me. I can warn them of this folly and what comes of it.

Beorn anger boils over, but it does not express in yelling or trying to stop the fool.  Instead, against his oath,he commits sin in his heart hoping that the foul magics of the doll take the man.  He will not save him.

Velns steps aside to make a road for Talorc to parade by them with laughter and merry promises. He breathes in hastily, and suddenly he senses something sicky steaming and gummed ooze like a stuffed snot in his vicinity. He meets Beorn's eyes to confirm the origin of that feeling, then pleadingly glances up at Alric again. The boy knows that words had passed their time and waiting for benefits no one. He turns, and with a spurt of movement, he matches Talorc's pace.    "I will not stay in your way," Veln speaks, breaking every word into the simplest one he can think of so Talorc doesn't need someone to break down his reason. "I need to see the child's toy again before you take her. Will you let me?"

"Be quick." Talorc grunts

Veln doesn't respond but takes his chance. He quickens his pace to keep up with Talorc and walks into the house before him. Knowing Talorc would cause a commotion with his entry at any moment, he nods to Edith but quickly approaches Hilda and leans by her. "I believe you," Veln whispers in haste. It is a frantic lie, but his racing heart and tensed nerves is something the girl might misread as fear. "The shadows are there, they were coming at us. Do you know how can protect against them? Does she... does princess Morgan know?" He reaches to touch the doll, holding his breath as he opens himself to the unseen fabric of man or beast -or worse- around him. 

Alric watches as the discussions take place: it did not take Wiseman to determine things were bubbling over. Uncertain what is being said, the large man leans on his spear and retreats a bit into his weary mind, his forearms throbbing. The daze of exhaustion that lays over Alric like a heavy blanket is pulled away by the sudden marching towards the house. He watches Veln and Talorc both share words before Veln enters the homestead.  He should've let the angry one trigger this dark magick.   Before walking closer to Beorn, Alric takes a look around the farm one last time in an attempt to see any change in nature that may be taking place. "This isn't going to end well, Beorn." Alric grunts as his stiff muscles push back on his advance.  "But, for what it's worth, you tried." Alric continues towards the house. 

Hilda looks bewildered and scared by Veln's sudden change in manner. She clutches her doll to her chest and bursts into tears, running to hide her face in her mother's skirts. "What are you doing?!" Edith demands, but in that moment as Veln's fingers brush the fabric of Morgan's head his stomach churns and his skin feels slimy as though he has just dipped his hand into an oil slick.

Runwyn is startled by the men's sudden return, making even her shout out in Welsh "Beth wyt ti'n gwneud? Cael moesau!" And even tries to quickly defend the woman and child. Somethings were just reaction, and while her hands were empty, the set of them was clearly she would've been point a sword at Veln. Instead it is a simple wooden spoon, which may be proven to be a more deadly weapon in her hands. English to Welsh :What are you doing? Have some manners!

As Veln's hand makes contact with the doll he instinctively seeks to consume the presence he has felt upon it. Tendrils of darkness burst forth from the doll, shrouding the area surrounding Veln in shadow as they bore into his eyes and mouth. When the umbral storm passes, Veln's eyes are jet black and black light shines through fissures that run along his skin.

As Veln grabs the doll and starts to change Runwyn reaches back and punches him as best she could. Her blow was not very strong, but more well placed, as all this magic in the air and the recent uncertainty of life was all to much. She was just a simple woman, only 17 winter's old, and this sudden shadows eating people was to much for her, and she went with the only thing she knew, and that was violence. Her fear was clear on her face, and while she stood tall, any one experienced fighting could tell she was beyond scared by the shaking of her body

Talorc is also overcome with fear and insecurity though he would never throw it. Running in he grabs for Veln, trying to take hold of him and throw him outside into the sunlight

Edith screams loudly as the dark presence manifests within her home and Hilda buries her face deeper into her mother's legs. The shadowy energies of the foul presence consuming Veln arc through Talorc and down into the ground as the huge pict grabs Veln, lifting the boy up and bodily hurling him out of the hovel and into the sun. Veln hits the ground with a thump outside but there's also a high pitched screech as the entity possessing him reacts to the sunlight.

A clamor rises and the door of the home blows open as Veln, the smallest of the group, hits the ground in front of Alric. Amused at what Veln could have possibly said to offend the three women in the home, Alric jabs at the young boy with his words: "Well, Veln - perhaps you shouldn't have been so forward. She's married, after all..." Alric glances up with a sly smile at the humor of the situation and his eyes find Talorc's face, a frozen portrait of fear and confusion watching Veln with baited anticipation. Alric follows the gaze back to Veln and notices the dark energy pulsating and echoing around his person. That damn doll... Alric spins his makeshift spear with a practiced hand so the dull end is forward: he didn't want to kill the boy, but perhaps knocking him out cold would buy them some time. Alric waits to see Veln's response, ready to strike in case the boy can no longer control himself. 

Of all the things, Beorn immediately regretted his inaction as soon as the yelling commenced.  Even more so when it was Veln's form tossed out of the doorway.  If that fool had knowingly touched the doll after being told what it was...   Beorn was at a loss though.  The brute was supposed to fall to the doll's power not the other holy man.    He wasn't sure anything could be done; especially since Alric didn't know.  If they survived this, Beorn felt undeserving of God's blessing.  He had been the cause of this, and his hate had sowed the seeds of destruction.   He knew he was unworthy.  But for now, he had to reach his bow.

Veln leaps at Alric like a rabid beast. The boy's visage seems to flicker and the galdorman can see the skull of a wolf shrouded in shadows in place of Veln's face. Alric thrusts down defensively with the butt of his spear, but something casts the blow aside and then he is struck by Veln's arm wreathed in a shadowy tentril. Darkness and cold take Alric. Ice fills his veins and he falls to the ground, motionless.

Beorn sees the body of Alric, and recognizes its hold over him.   Despite the danger, despite all the risks, he must save them from his moment of weakness.  It is his burden to bear even if it might mean his life in this land of madmen. He clung to the memory of the ancient texts, he brought his hands up on the proper somantics, "In nómine Pátris, et Fílii, + et Spirítus Sancti. Amen.  Exsúrgat Deus et dissipéntur inimíci ejus: et fúgiant qui odérunt eum a fácie ejus. Sicut déficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a fácie ígnis, sic péreant peccatóres a fácie Dei." The body seemed to hold steady, and he forced himself to remember the words, he took a deep breath to continue reciting. "Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me. Confundántur et revereántur quaeréntes ánimam meam. Avertántur retrórsum et confundántur, cogitántes míhi mála. Fíant táamquam púlvis ante fáciem vénti: et Ángelus Dómini coárctans eos. Fiat via illórum ténebrae, et lúbricum: et Ángelus Dómini pérsequens eos. Quóniam grátis abscondérunt míhi intéritum láquei sui: supervácue exprobravérunt ánimam meam. Véniat illi láqueus quem ignórat; et cáptio quam abscóndit, aprehéndat eum: et in láqueum cádat in ipsum. Ánima áutem mea exsultábit in Dómino: et delectábitur super salutári suo. Glória Pátri, et Fílio, et Spirítui Sancto. Sícut érat in princípio et nunc et semper, et in saécula saéculórum. Amen." "Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas, ómnis infernális adversárii, ómnis légio, ómnis congregátio et sécta diabólica, in nómine et virtúte Dómini nóstri Jésu + Chrísti, eradicáre et effugáre a Dei Ecclésia, ab animábus ad imáginem Dei cónditis ac pretióso divíni Ágni sánguine redémptis. +Non últra áudeas, sérpens callidíssime, decípere humánum génus, Dei Ecclésiam pérsequi, ac Dei eléctos excútere et cribráre sicut tríticum. + Ímperat tíbi Deus altíssimus, + cui in mágna tua supérbia te símile habéri ádhuc praesúmis; qui ómnes hóminess vult sálvos fíeri, et ad agnitiónem veritátis veníre (1 Tim 2). Ímperat tíbi Déus Pater; + ímperat tíbi Deus Fílius; + ímperat tíbi Déus Spíritus Sánctus. + Ímperat tíbi majéstas Chrísti, aetérnum Dei Vérbum cáro factum, + qui pro salúte géneris nóstri tua invídia pérditi, humiliávit semetípsum fáctus obédiens úsque ad mórtem (Phil 2); qui Ecclésiam súam aedificávit súpra fírmam pétram, et pórtas ínferi advérsus eam númquam esse praevalitúras edíxit, cum ea ipse permansúrus ómnibus diébus úsque ad consummatiónem saéculi (Matt 28, 20). Ímperat tíbi sacraméntum Crúcis, + omniúmque christiánae fídei Mysteriórum virtus. + Imperat tibit excélsa Dei Génitrix Virgo Maria, +quae superbíssimum cáput tuum a prímo instánti immaculátae suae conceptiónis in sua humilitáte contrívit. Ímperat tíbi fídes sanctórum Apostolórum Pétri et Páuli, et ceterórum Apostolórum. + Ímperat tíbi Mártyrum sánguis, ac pia Sanctórum et Sanctárum ómnium intercéssio. + Érgo, dráco maledícte et ómnis légio diabólica, adjurámus te per Déum +vívum, per Déum + vérum, per Déum + sánctum, per Déum qui sic diléxit múndum, ut Fílium suum unigénitum dáret, ut ómnis qui crédit in eum non péreat, sed hábeat vítam aetérnam (Jn 3): céssa decípere humánas creatúras, eísque aetérnae perditiónis venénum propináre: désine Ecclésiae nocére et éjus libertáti láqueros injícere. Váde sátana, invéntor et magíster ómnis falláciae, hóstis humánae salútis. Da lócum Chrísto, in quo níhil invenísti de opéribus tuis; da lócum Ecclésia Uni, Sanctae, Cathólicae, et Apostólicae, quam Chrístus ípse acquisívit sánguine suo. Humiliáre sub poténti mánu Dei; contremísce et éffuge, invocáto a nóbis sáncto et terríbili nominé Jésu, quem ínferi trémunt, cui Virtútes caelórum et Potestátes et Dominatiónes subjéctae sunt, quem Chérubim et Séraphim indeféssis vócibus láudant, dicéntes: Sánctus, Sanctus, Sanctus Dóminus Déus Sábaoth." Latin: In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen Let God arise and let His enemies be scattered: and let them that hate Him flee from before His Face! As smoke vanisheth, so let them vanish away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God. Judge Thou, O Lord, them that wrong me: overthrow them that fight against me. Let them be confounded and ashamed that seek after my soul. Let them be turned back and be confounded that devise evil against me. Let them become as dust before the wind: and let the Angel of the Lord straighten them. Let their way become dark and slippery: and let the Angel of the Lord pursue them. For without cause they have hidden their net for me unto destruction: without cause they have upbraided my soul. Let the snare which he knoweth not, come upon him: and let the net which he hath hidden, catch him: and into that very snare let him fall. But my soul shall rejoice in the Lord, and shall be delighted in His salvation . Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen. We cast you out, every unclean spirit, every satanic power, every onslaught of the infernal adversary, every legion, every diabolical group and sect, in the name and by the power of our Lord Jesus + Christ. We command you, begone and fly far from the Church of God, from the souls made by God in His Image and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb. + No longer dare, cunning serpent, to deceive the human race, to persecute God’s Church, to strike God’s elect and to sift them as wheat. + For the Most High God commands you, + He to Whom you once proudly presumed yourself equal; He Who wills all men to be saved and come to the knowledge of Truth commands you. (1 Tim 2:4) God the Father + commands you. The Son of God + commands you. God the Holy + Ghost commands you. Christ, the Eternal Word of God made flesh, commands + you, Who humbled Himself, becoming obedient even unto death (Phil 2:8), to save our race from the perdition wrought by your envy; Who founded His Church upon a firm Rock, declaring that the gates of hell should never prevail against her, and that He would remain with her all days, even to the end of the world. (Mt 28:20) The sacred mystery of the Cross commands you, along with the power of all mysteries of Christian Faith. + The exalted Virgin Mary, Mother of Jesus, + commands you, who in her lowliness crushed your proud head from the first moment of her Immaculate Conception. The Faith of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul and the other Apostles + commands you. The blood of martyrs and the devout prayers of all holy men and women command + you. Thus, cursed dragon, and you, diabolical legions, we adjure you by the living God, + by the true God, + by the holy God, + by the God who so loved the world that He gave up His only Son, that every soul believing in Him might not perish but have life everlasting;” (Jn 3:16) cease deceiving human creatures and pouring out to them the poison of eternal damnation; cease harming the Church and hindering her liberty. Begone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit, enemy of man’s salvation. Give place to Christ in Whom you have found none of your works; give place to the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church acquired by Christ at the price of His Blood. Stoop beneath the all-powerful Hand of God; tremble and flee when we invoke the Holy and terrible Name of Jesus, this Name which causes hell to tremble, this Name to which the Virtues, Powers and Dominations of heaven are humbly submissive, this Name which the Cherubim and Seraphim praise unceasingly repeating: Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord, the God of Hosts.

Veln arches his back to the heavens and screams a horrific mix between a ghostly shriek and a beasts roar. Throwing himself forwards, the boy digs his fingers into the earth, claws protruding from their ends. He bucks, and flips, and rolls on the ground. His form shudders as though it will blur into two of him and then  something  leaps forth  out  of Veln. The boy stands, no longer a boy, but a dark female form, skeletal and wrapped in decaying cloth. Besides her an otherworldly black beast has been expelled from within Veln. It bellows an earth-shattering roar and leaps furiously at what was once a small Welsh boy.

Beorn sees them, fear seizes his mind, he must run.  But no, he is a child of the Lord God maker of Heaven and Earth.  Chosen by him, gifted by his divine talents.  "You shall not pass, Spawn of Satan.  You shall hold no ground here. Blessed are those who perish for His name.  Blessed are those who face the devil and shun his tongue.  Though I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death I will FEAR NO EVIL!!!!"   Beorn then silently walks forward toward the specters, and prays. "O heavenly father, grant me one final blessing, take my life in order to bind this evil from this land.  Spare the innocent and the weak.  May my sacrifice be the light that shows your way to this world.  Let not my mistakes doom this world from thy glory."   He reaches his hand forward to touch, feeling the cold chill of death in the air around him.  He finishes, "Amen."

Throwing the possessed boy out of the building, Talorc sees the full extent of what is happening and his eyes widen in horror. His instincts do not abandon him though, and even as he sees the beast touch the galdorman instantly knocking him out his fear does not turn to panic. He back cautiously towards the tree line, glancing over his shoulder he sees Runwyn in the doorway and beckons to her. Moving silently and slowly rather than suddenly he attempts to make his escape, grateful that the strange man who spoke his language seemed to be having a fit of insanity that was distracting the beast.

The wraith-like woman sweeps a skeletal hand through the air between her and the beast, sending the monster flying back across the field. She shrieks again and recoils from the sunlight, rushing inside the house with preternatural speed. Meanwhile, the monster that had dwelt within Veln rolls back onto its front, shaking itself, before leaping at Beorn. However, it seems that the Lord has not yet given up on the man and the shadowy beast sails right over his head.

Just as quickly as the woman appeared in the doorway, Runwyn sticks out her sword, striking the creature clearly in the breast as it comes in. Suddenly, and without much warning, no longer is a creature in front of Runwyn, but instead it is the face of Veln she stares into, the open eyed horror clear on her face as he fall backwards, not a sound nor a movement to notice his betrayal at her hands. She barely registers the action however, for while she was trembling and her face covered in Veln's blood, a sure sign she had either suffered a terrible wound or gave one. But her survival was still on the line, and while she looked at Veln and decided today should not be his day, she had to fight this other creature. It was a deamon of the lands, and it would bring to much shame on her to let it continue to live. Hopefully it would continue to attack Beorn over her so she could move into position to kill it with her sword.

Runwyn bores her seax through the wraith's breast and it howls like a banshee. A wave of supernatural cold that chills the girl to the bone as she stabs into the ethereal being. There's a rushing of air as the spirit is sucked back into Hilda's doll and Veln collapses bleeding on the ground with Runwyn's blade sticking out of his chest. 

The howl of the wraith echoing from the house brings that cold sensation of fear with him, but the beast in the field was more of a threat.  Beorn was unsure if mortal weapons would kill the spirit, but it was all he had left.  He could not sense the gift anymore and he had been punished for his hubris.  He had tried to imitate the priests, and had cause more ill to the village than that doll.  He had been cursed for his anger and vanity.  Perhaps this is a test of faith, maybe this is something he would have to do on his own.  The beast lunged for him as he continued toward the house... toward the bow and quiver.  He ran harder.

The beast stumbles and turns, rounding on Beorn once more, but something keeps the man from harm and it sails past him yet again.

Beorn now winded from the run to the house, looks through the door way for the bow and quiver.   He grasps at them frantically accidentally drawing two arrows.  He knocks both though, and tries to bring the bow to bear.  Sweat is now beating at his brow.  The pant of fear grasping at his heart.  The arrows loose as the string thwacks  to the resting position driving its two passengers spiraling out into the open air between Beorn and the beast.  The aim is sloppy but true and Beorn's heart is filled with joy as he see the arrows plunge home... what?   The beast reacts as if stroke or tickled by the shafts but the arrows thud  into the ground behind it. His throat was midway into a cry of victory when it died in the disbelief.  No mortal weapon could touch it. Beorn couldn't delay any longer, and so he dashed onward for the other doorway.

The beast hurls itself after Beorn, only to crash against the walls of the hovel when the man slams the door behind him. Inside, Edith and Hilda huddle terrified in Godwin's arms. Fear glimmers in the Saxon's eyes, but also a determination to protect his family. The light dims inside the small building and tendrils of shadow begin to creep in around the edges of the door. They writhe and wind along the floor and walls as though seeking... something. In the back of her mind, Runwyn hears the steady beating of a drum.

As the Shadows fill Runwyn ears, the anger and fear towards the doll become real, solid in her mind. It was clear what must be done, and without much thought as to who was in her way or anything, Runwyn swings the sword down on the doll, knowing that for this evil to be destroyed the doll must be destroyed as well.

The black tendrils gather into a mass that bunches up and leaps at Runwyn, who remains frozen in place. They pour into the welsh girl, burrowing past her eyes, nose and mouth. The sensation is like an oil slick on the surface of the soul. It heightens fear, anger, hatred... and somewhere in the back of Runwyn's mind the sinking hollow pit of disappointment. A seax flashes in the darkness and Hilda squeals. "Hilda!" Godwin cries, but the girl is unharmed. Clutched in her arms, the two halves of the small toy have been rent asunder. A hissing noise fills the hovel as Morgan coalesces once more, before diving for Beorn!

Beorn feels... her. It is an odd sensation, not like the gift exactly.  Sort of a welling up of power.  It was cold and his body ached.  He felt her claw at the back of his head... whispering in his ears at the promise of power.  He grasps at his head, "I am the Lord your God, and you will have no other gods before me."   Beorn quoted the old testament, the only source of strength against her .  She laughed , but the whispers seem to wain at that - his legs and arms quivering from effort.  He steadies the bow in his hand.  Sweat pours from his brow.  He was already tired from fighting the beast outside, and this seemed to weaken him by the moment.  The sun .  God's ultimate testament to the World.  The Light of the World.  She hated the sun, and he could hear muffled shouting from her.   The beast was outside, but it didn't matter.  He had committed to sacrificing himself for this once, his resolve was not any less now.  And at least this could possibly work.  Beorn opens the door and with the last of his reserves runs deep into the sunlight.  "Bathe in His glory, you venomous harpy."   Beorn says aloud to the spirit within him.

When Beorn opens the door, the beast is gone, but where to is not a question that is on his mind right now. The sun outside feels unexpectedly brilliant and blinding as he steps out into the light of day, and something inside him screams . He can feel Morgan recoil from the sun, fighting to escape it, but there is nowhere to go and Beorn has her in His grasp. He takes a step and his veins bulge, like purple ley lines that slither beneath his skin. He takes another and he can feel the heat rising in his stomach. An inferno that threatens to well up and consume them both. Another and sweat beads on his brow, even as the ice of Morgan's presence makes him break out into shiver. Alric lies up ahead sprawled twisted and frozen in the earth of the field. His lips and fingers are white and frost-bitten. Still the fire builds within Beorn, purifying and heavenly. He falls to his knees besides Alric and knows in his heart that this will destroy her, but it will cost him everything.

And with that realization, an inner peace drowns out the chaos of the world. "Let it be done, then.  My purpose can be fulfilled."   The flames flicker and burn within, but it doesn't matter.  I pray your forgiveness for my heart, and ask you to walk me beside the still waters if it be your will.  Morgan's screams are numbed by the fire, and the world seems to fade into brightness of the light.  A tears fall from Beorn's face, either from the stress or the war within him, or just that the joy at understanding his troubled life to that moment.  The persecution of the monks, the stones, the harsh words, the lies, the torment of slavery, all leading to this moment.   A final thought crossed his mind amidst the haze, it was not a regret as he might have feared only minutes earlier. It drew a smile to his face despite the pain, I never got to write that song.   And then Beorn was no more.

Three plumes of golden flame briefly stream from Beorn's eyes and mouth and he crumples, blackened besides Alric. Inside the house Godwin stares at Runwyn in horror even as Hilda clutches the two ruined halves of her favourite doll. The little girl bursts into inconsolable tears. "What are you doing?! What have you done?!" He demands, grabbing a pot from the hearth and brandishing at her for lack of a better weapon. In Runwyns head a hoarse voice growls...  Te rodere cute et ossibus. Vos lacrimam in tendines salvatoris manus, qui benedixit te. Festo sicut ego festo.

Fearing the unknown voice in her head, and added to the fact that now after saving their daughter from clearly evil spirits the family turns on Runwyn, she panics. She was no match for an angry farmer defending his land, and she runs through the small hovel, hoping to quickly put as much distance between her and this horrid scene as she could. Two friends lay dead due to her actions, with tears streaming down her face, Runwyn tries her best to escape, hoping maybe that group was still nearby. Perhaps she could rejoin them, or something. She had no idea that anyone was left of this small, ill-led party.

*il fine*

Runwyn runs. Out of the door she flees, past the fallen forms of Veln, Beorn and Alric, and across the fields away from the farmhouse. She resolves to find her own path, as she always has... but Runwyn is not alone. Not any longer. She carries something within her. Something else . Something dark. The things that the girl has seen this day have changed her forever, and somewhere deep inside her glimmers the faintest spark of a young boy who wants nothing more than the love of his own father. - END OF CHAPTER -