Existence is Fleeting? Maybe for You. (Kain'ik/Yash)

[Yasha Cadera]

Mand’alor the Infernal’s beskar’kandar resided on its stand in Kaine and Yasha’s quarters aboard the Scythe. The rush of hyperspace continued outside the ship, piloted by Kaine’s faithful crew toward the Nihil Retreat. None of this was on the young Epicanthix’s mind as she eased onto a high stool. Hand on her softly swelling belly, Yasha’s armourweave jumpsuit sat on her hips, arms tied in a bow. These ones fluttered before she remembered her other children. Maybe Yasha was quieter now. Maybe the stress of taking the Mantle while pregnant with Adara, and trying to hide Reyn inhibited her maternal senses.

A secure & married woman, the warrior once known as the Hell Wolf untangled her armourweave’s arms and pulled one, then the other upon her shifting body. The latches were tight across her belly. Yasha cracked her neck one side and the other. She put her hand on the pauldron of her vicious armour. Touched the bracer, which smashed the Dark One’s face to a sickly pulp.

The Infernal was everything her mentors taught her to be. Fierce, discerning, compassionate to the Vode and lethal to Aruetise. Stable. Word barely whispered to her of the seemingly innocuous event. Nothing but a single line on a standard communications report. Chatter from rebels and pirates.

Yasha Australis-Cadera was the farthest person from an orphan. Secure and loved by her chosen family, she felt invincible by virtue of their sometimes abrasive care. And now she would be more. Amber eyes, the only legacy she acknowledged, glanced up at the only man who mattered. Her husband, father of her children.

The man, who taught a wounded youth what aliit meant. Stepping into her lower body armour and boots, Yasha felt the clunk-hiss of latches and ties cinching her in the armour she wore ubiquitously.

“Ready to smash some heads, love? Sorry I’m taking longer than usual.” Easing into her torso plates, Yasha latched them another degree looser in the belly. Felt the pressure of heavy beskar on her shoulders and collarbones. “It’s getting heavier now. I’ll be alright.”

The wolf-helm hood followed. Gorget covering her ample chest, which grew in anticipation of their offspring. Another part Kaine would have to let out in his forge. Crush gaunts pulled tight. Locked with clicks and the whirr of hidden gears. The Longinus and the Rekr Karyatesa hovered near the door, on the weapon rack.

“‘Cause I’m ready to smash half a planet.” An adoring smile graced her as she held her hands out for her redeeming riduur, pulled herself off the stool. “Those sorcerers don’t know they’re meeting the only thing they worship today.”

Death and destruction. The knells of Australis and his wife in tandem once again. It was certainly more productive than a coward’s funeral.

"Sir. Mand'alor. We're jetting out of Hyperspace, your carriage awaits." A voice on the comm. Yasha grinned and held out her hand. The Longinus flew into it.

"Oya."


[member="Kaine Australis"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

[member="Kaine Australis"]’ kiss drew a rumbling moan out of his pregnant young wife. She returned the affection with an uncanny depth from her own soul, her redeemer and lover both. They were beings of violence, yet in this nest of his creativity and pride the viciousness abated. Grinning into the kiss, Yasha batted at his cheek with her nose. Ran her lips along his chin.

“Devastation is in this year, my love.”

A note from [member="Ginnie Dib"] began it. The casual release of information about Nihil Smokestone and its’ effects on the capabilities of some Force Sensitives. Yasha sat long into the night looking over Ginnie’s research. Then, looking over the writings of a Naboo Pacifist, the incarnation of a Goddess of Compassion, whose father was a Sorcerer of Rhand.

Dha Werda Verda were one of the three groups, who steeped themselves in the Nihil Retreat and created the Sorcerers of Rhand. That made Nihil Smokestone Yasha’s right to take as Mand’alor. She would claim it, as she would claim the Retreat.

Back to the source, her inner mind quivered. Back to the origination of their beliefs and their gods. Yasha would become Death and Destruction to put a stopper on it.

Kaine… impetuous and courageous, a warrior amongst many unparalleled, would live. The Smokestone was as much for her redeemer as it was for their ad’ike in her belly and safe with Adara’s uncle back home. He would never end like… a single line in a routine comm report. Five words strung in an innocuous line.

“Oya, oya.” Yasha grinned, weapon in hand. She set her wolf-helm to swathe her face, locking her away from the terrible light other beings needed to see by. The relative darkness of her HUD comforted Kaine’s wife. His battle-partner.

“I want as much as the Scythe can carry.” The cold tone of Command stole any familial warmth from Yasha’s voice. She was once more the Infernal, that perilous queen. Sole Ruler of all but the rabble, who refused to see past their own noses, or refused to see through past mistakes.

The crashing gong-like sound of the Infernal’s boots thundered down the corridor. All shifted or were removed from her path. The Rekr Karyatesa flew down the corridor after Kaine and Yasha, attaching itself to her back with a thick, reverberant ‘chunk’. She mounted into the gunship and gave the hand signal to take off, glad for the Tinget root in her mouth.

The ride down to the planet was no gentle scurry. Even the atmosphere of Rhand was destructive and caustic, battling the pilots to the core before allowing them berth on the ground. An oozing fog stole visual sensors.

Yet, from her HUD Yasha could see the outline of a series of ruins in front of them. The LAAT/X skidded on its’ landing moores. Wind whipping at the ship.

“Tether up. Don’t get lost.”

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Turbulence plus pregnancy made for a twist in Yasha’s stomach every second of the way down. She gnawed on the Tinget Root, glad for the wash of herbal medicine, which kept her from upchucking in her buy’ce.

Once was enough. While [member="Kaine Australis"] let the vibrations lull him into a boy’s enjoyment, his wife fought the greatest battle in her life.

Keeping down her lunch without releasing her helmet and grabbing a bucket before the soldiers, who thought her ineffable. While many accounted Yasha’s stern behaviour and cold authority to be her natural state, the truth was much more whimsical a thing.

Ships of many sizes made her ‘space sick’. The idea of being hurtled through space on a hollowed out missile of varying size was enough to send her three steps to the nearest loo. Half the time Yasha spent throwing herself out of perfectly functional flying vehicles was the simple equation of ‘time spent vs rising nausea’. At least she could control her bes’uliik.

There wasn’t a being in the universe other than her husband who knew Yasha was terribly ill equipped to ever fly a vessel larger than a bes’uliik. And Yasha never would be a pilot. The very idea of flying a craft turned her innards in more knots than Adara’s hair after a long sleep in the damp.

The only outward sign of Yasha’s sickened predicament was the clutch of her crushgaunt against the side of the LAAT/X, and the pressure upon which she squeezed her husband’s hand.

The gunship lurched. Yasha squeezed harder.

“Oh thank you sweet baby Kad.” Yasha whispered unintelligibly to all but Kaine as she rushed the LAAT’X’s opening hatch. First out?

Why yes. Yes she was. Brandishing her Longinus spear, Yasha charged without a call to battle. Kaine’s voice was loud enough. Triggering the spearhead, Yasha directed solid bolts of matter away from herself and the oncoming Mandalorians. She rushed straight for a Rhandite position toward the ruins.

They would never reach them. Slamming the end of her spear on the ground, Yasha triggered the dovin basal and sent the Rhandites slamming to the ground under a sudden influx of gravity.

Yanking one of her twin pistols out of its’ holster, the young Mand’alor fired into their heads, double-tapping through the triangular hats the Rhandites wore.

She pointed her weapon up and fired at two men cloaked in black, and threw the corpses of their companions at two more. The ruins.

“Head to the ruins!” Yasha barked, glad that yet again a few moment’s distraction and solid ground kept her meal firmly in place.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Why darling! I thought you’d leave a girl waiting.” Yasha grinned back, the mirth clear in her voice. The chaos of battle rustled around her, explosions and roars from the Mando’ade and the Rhandites beginning to mount their defence. It came so easy, the flick of a wrist and toss of opponents at the tip of the dovin basal.

‘Hey. Yash. Lil Yaiya… hey, don’t go the wrong way, muffin.’ A voice lilting in the fog. A pressure on Yasha’s shoulder, as if some ghoulish handprint settled upon it.

“Only Destruction may enter here.” The voice hit every Mandalorian not of Epicanthix descent. A cold, gravel-tongued voice laced with enough malice to give the Dark Lord pause. It was loud enough to bleed eardrums, yet spiritual… mental in nature. Yasha rushed on, seemingly unawares of the voice. Due to her Epicanthix immunity to mentalist attacks, she could not hear it.

But the Infernal felt what happened next.

A shadow-born figure swirled from the pitch and scrap metal. Holding a thin black blade in his hand, the figure cut at the air, and an arc of destructive power burst from the weapon, sending the troops to [member="Kaine Australis"]’ left careening away. The cacophonous chorus of wounded soldiers flooded the comms. Some cut out.

Completely.

Giving out a battle cry, Yasha leapt for the new menace. Her spear thrust into his stomach. It went through shadow, with nothing but a crackle, and the burst of a growl from the entity. He held his hand out.

Yasha went flying deep into the labrynthine ruins.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Lord Baalam!” The kinetite blasted in the elder Rhandite’s face in a horrid display. The crimson ichor of his blood splattered upon the inner temple. Baalam flew backward. His doppelgänger disappeared, flickering one last attack at the Mandalorian foes.

A sickly cackle thrust out of shaken lungs. “Lure them in. Lock them in the ruins.”

“As you say, Lord Baalam.” The rhandite monks began luring mandalorians in, as with a mighty churning even the air of Rhand pulled them in. The fog roiled, kinetic and clawing. There would be no escape from the ruins.

“Kriff!!” Yasha’s trail of swears cut short as her body flung mercilessly in the air. The Longinus slid out of her fingers.

“Feth! Kriff! Shmoolighter!” She grabbed for it, body thrust in a head over heels tumble through the sky. Reaching her arm up, she called the spear to hand. It batted against her grip. Once. Twi-there!

Triggering the dovin basal, Yasha used the gravitic effect of the weapon to right herself. Less than seconds before smacking catastrophically into the ruins, Yasha used the gravity of her spear to cease her tumble.

Yet, in her panic, she shifted gravity too fast. A snap-pop tore at her shoulder. Yasha screamed and dropped straight down through the crumbling roof of a dismal cathedral. Her descent slowed significantly by the spear. Caught on two arches, the Longinus held her above the ground. Yasha’s left arm burned, shoulder shrieking in pain. She fumbled to grab the spear with her right, foot clawing for a handhold in the decrepit rock. Kicking too hard into the side wall, it disintegrated beneath her. Yasha clawed at the wreckage with her right katar and both feet, left arm useless.

She fell into the shadows of the sanctuary below. Yet... before she hit the ground, a flash of silver caught her up.

A droid in a fedora and half a three piece suit placed her on the ground.

“Okay I hit my head.”

“Got that wolf thing pretty good, don’t mean I ain’t real. You’re welcome bee tee double ew. Where I come from, people say ‘thank you Bucket, for rescuing me’. But no. Chickybabe thinks she’s the queen of everything so she don’t.”

Yasha gritted her teeth, balled her fist and slammed her right fist into the droid’s face.

“Nobody calls me chickybabe... thank you, Bucket? You got named for a Bucket?” Yasha smacked the side of her HUD as the image crackled. She needed a ping on [member="Kaine Australis"].

“This is the girl? This one? Thought you said she was a cute lil thing.” Bucket picked itself up off the floor and started walking further in. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your ghostly panties in a wad. C’mon, Aditya’s daughter! We’ve got ground to make.”

“Who are you talking to? W-wait. How do you...”

“Your spear’s falling.”

Yasha looked up in time to skip to the side and avoid the Longinus’ spearhead slicing through the top of her head.

“Kaine... Kain’ik are you reading this? I’m alright. Bit banged up but fine. Hey, where are you? Hit my buy’ce hard enough to scramble my sensors. Babycakes I need you to hone in. Kain’ik? Kain’ik can you hear me?”

“You tell her! ... okay yeah but... uuugh fine. Oy, Mandahoovian. Your comms got struck. He’s probably only hearing static. You wanna talk to him, feel out. He’s your man, ain’t he? Husbandy shaped? And he’s a forcer, trainee of a guy we know. Knew? Definitely knew. Yeah, Andy I’m gettin’ to it! Well you learn to telepathically communicate with Epicanthixes, then!” The droid stopped short, flinging his arms in a conversation Yasha could only hear one side of. “Yeah, I got it. Geeze. Liked you better Dead. No I didn’t that was a lie. No. No. Yes? Yes! No. So Mandahoov. Feel out for him. His senses are heightened, he’ll pick you up.”

“Feel... are you freakin serious?” Yasha grumbled and slid down the passageway, through a broken door and down into what appeared to be a small glade growing over ruin. She slid her back against moss and sat down, cradling her left arm. Feel out. The heck did that mean?

 

[Yasha Cadera]

The Rhandite defence rushed impetuously against the Mandalorian squads. Working on separating the soldiers from their compatriots, the Rhandites appeared out of shadows, walls, crumbling effigies snapped to life. As many that came after the Mandalorians, were cut down writhing in their death knells from the usurping horde.

Shards of what looked to be kinetite thrust into the space surrounding Kaine, and the Night Witches. Yet, the Ysalamiri had no effect on the needle thin bladed projections. Three hit their mark, slicing into a Night Witch’s side and right arm.

“Bring me Vesull’s son!” The shuddering attack of Lord Baalam’s voice again. Herded. The Mandalorians were being herded through the ruins.

Back against the moss strewn ruin, the frigid blasts of Rhand gave way to a balmy and pleasant warmth below. As her HUD blitzed, foggy images seizing, Yasha waited for the self-repair to start piecing back together.

“Feeeeeeeel out. Feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel out.”

“Yes thank you, Bucket!” Yasha snapped. She pushed off the moss covered wall. Staggered into the underground glade, where a bioluminescence stole across the flora.

“Gee. Really are Aditya’s hellspawn.” Bucket grumbled, as another sound of servos and droid feet hit Yasha’s ears.

“How did you know my mother?” Yasha held her spearhead to the droid’s throat, the dovin basal shimmering.

“We worked together in the Fringe. Right tragic what happened. We all knew your mother. All of us. Andra t-oh. Whoops.” Bucket stopped vocalizing and his servo hands shuttered from side to side. “Oh look SCABS is coming to relocate your shoulder. Yaaaaaaay?”

“Bucket... Scabs?” Yasha blinked and pushed forward, until her boot caught in a depression in the glade. A shadow collected in the shade, formed of ethereal fabric draped around gauntlets and a black stone mask cut in effigy of a woman’s face. An androgyne’s face.

“My Kad.” Yasha’s eyes snapped wide under her failing buy’ce.

“Goddess of Compassion, actually. Yeah. I know. What’s the incarnation of a goddess like me doing in Rhand? Think hard, Yaiya. You’ve almost got it and we are so proud.” The voice came from Bucket. Another translation from the ephemeral vision in front of Yasha’s face.

SCABS, an aging medical droid lumbered in, cushioned appendages reaching for Yasha’s dislocated shoulder. The Infernal looked to the droid and nodded once. Pity her comms self-repaired in time for a barking scream to hit [member="Kaine Australis"]’ private channel.

“SCABS is gonna bolt your pauldron and arm-piece to your chest plate, immobilize the joint until you’re done this cockamamie mess.” A foreign droid’s voice over Yasha’s comm.

“What the feth are you doing here?”

“C’mon, Yaiya. All those stories I told you when you were a kid?” The droid voice again, chased by a whisper through the Force which hit even Kaine the closer he got to his beloved. The spirit of one long dead, passing over in this place of ruin where the bonds between death and destruction and life itself were thinner than unprocessed spider silk. Andra’s voice was the lilting song of spring birds coming home after a long winter. Budding life peeking through the slumbering trees before the bloom. Andra’s mental sensation was as peaceful and harmonic as Rhand was desolate. Yet it made her no less dangerous to the young Infernal.

A spirit Yasha could not hear.

The sound of whirring and bolts twisting. A grunt from Yasha’s ribcage. Crashing in the glade. Yasha held out her right hand and her spear veered into it. A passageway appeared out of the side wall, Rhandite mages spawning upon the glade.

“ZOUNDS, run!” Bucket booked it. Yasha charged.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Rrrraah!” Yasha’s bestial roar radiated through the caverns. Yet, as [member="Kaine Australis"] searched for his beloved, no enemies were found... alive.

Blood stains on stone and moss punctuated lines of fingers dragged across anything solid. Slumped bodies laid, limbs akimbo and often missing their heads from gored necks.

“Eargh! Rah!” More now, scattered grunts and the pwing-ping of sloshing bodies against cold metal poured into the catacombs.

A Rhandite staggered, slashed from left shoulder to right hip. Listless eyes, the eyes of waking Death glazing over on the Australis Alor. His body hit the ground.

A light flashed from whence he came. And there, around the next bend was Kain’ik’s wife, spear thrust into the rib cage of a squalling Rhandite. Yasha pounced, her left arm secured to her chest plate, and stabbed out with her right katar. Again.

Again.

Again.

Her boot slid on liquid too red to be only mud. She roared and pounced on another of the four remaining Rhandites, cutting along his arm and struggling momentarily to plunge her katar through his throat. Gnashing her teeth with a snarl, the Haran Rekr kneed the downed villain to pull her katar from his bone.

She called her spear to hand. Boots slid and she crashed to her knee with a grunt.

“Kaine!” Using the butt of her spear on the ground to pull herself to her feet, Yasha formed up beside her husband while the last three of the Rhandites in this area of the catacombs charged.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

“Rrrraah!” Yasha’s bestial roar radiated through the caverns. Yet, as [member="Kaine Australis"] searched for his beloved, no enemies were found... alive.

Blood stains on stone and moss punctuated lines of fingers dragged across anything solid. Slumped bodies laid, limbs akimbo and often missing their heads from gored necks.

“Eargh! Rah!” More now, scattered grunts and the pwing-ping of sloshing bodies against cold metal poured into the catacombs.

A Rhandite staggered, slashed from left shoulder to right hip. Listless eyes, the eyes of waking Death glazing over on the Australis Alor. His body hit the ground.

A light flashed from whence he came. And there, around the next bend was Kain’ik’s wife, spear thrust into the rib cage of a squalling Rhandite. Yasha pounced, her left arm secured to her chest plate, and stabbed out with her right katar. Again.

Again.

Again.

Her boot slid on liquid too red to be only mud. She roared and pounced on another of the four remaining Rhandites, cutting along his arm and struggling momentarily to plunge her katar through his throat. Gnashing her teeth with a snarl, the Haran Rekr kneed the downed villain to pull her katar from his bone.

She called her spear to hand. Boots slid and she crashed to her knee with a grunt.

“Kaine!” Using the butt of her spear on the ground to pull herself to her feet, Yasha formed up beside her husband while the last three of the Rhandites in this area of the catacombs charged.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

[member="Kaine Australis"]’ entrance gave Yasha the luxury of a well-earned breath. Panting growls echoed out of the Mand’alor, her left ribcage searing in anvil-strikes of pain from her dislocated shoulder. Merciless in his approach, Kaine cut down the remaining Rhandites and his wife felt a flutter in her belly.

It was a joy watching that man work. If she hadn’t butchered her arm, Yasha might have whistled.

“Yes. My buy’ce took a heavy hit. Dislocated my shoulder stopping my momentum. I need practice time with the Longinus. Almost ripped my arm off.” Back slid against the nearest wall, giving Kaine her hand when he reached for her. Their foreheads touched, Yasha bending down to alight on her human spouse. “We’re fine, Kain’ik. All three of us are shook, but fine.”

Kaine fussed over her, the little tells of his fists, shoulders, tone of voice betraying his worry to his wife. Yasha shook her head and let out a thin, pained laugh.

“Balaam Sivas, yeah. I know him… not know him, but know him in a… Bucket!” The aging well dressed droid peeked from behind a corner, mechanical fingers clinging to the wall. It pushed away and tipped its’ fedora at the rampaging Mandalorians.

“Chainsword dude. Yaiya.” Behind him, an ethereal figure draped in black and grey Rhandite robes levitated off the ground. The mask on her face was filigreed with ruby gems, eyes gleaming beneath the smooth black stone.

‘Lord Balaam Sivas, formerly of Naboo. C’mon Yaiya, you remember. They were your favourite stories.’
“Lord Balaam Sivas, formerly of Naboo. C’mon Yaiya, you remember. They were your favourite stories.” Bucket repeated every word from the sprite.

‘Trust an Epicanthix to be immune to listening, eh, Kain’ik was it?’

“There was this… spirit in the Netherworld. Hung out with Mama and I for a while, a friend of hers from the Fringe days. Andra Sivas. Gimpy little pacifist from Naboo. She’d keep me company while Mama slept. Lord Balaam is a Sorcerer of Rhand. They’re not strong in the Force, Kain’ik. Not like you know it. Rhandites worship this Darkness, a god of destruction.” Hefting her spear and checking the corner, Yasha nodded Kaine over. “Kad Harang’ir under a different name. Balaam was Andra’s father. One day, Andra disappeared. Poof. Never knew what happened to her. Bucket was her bodyguard droid. SCABS was her medic. We’re taking them with us. And darling, I fancy more blood for Kad Harang’ir tonight, don’t you?”

Onward. The apparition surged in front, Bucket’s servos whirring quietly as the droid followed. Yasha walked with her left shoulder protected between them. Spear locked on her back-lock, Yasha unholstered one of her twin pistols and remained ever vigilant.

Yet, resistance was scant in the catacombs. What Rhandites they found dissipated into the walls, or stood sentry, in stoic paralysis. A vaulted roof in constant state of decrepit flux opened a large ceremonial space, where standing on a dais in the middle was Lord Balaam Sivas, Sorcerer and villain.

“Destruction and her consort Death! What an occasion! I should have dressed up. Oh, I hope your arm is not too out of sorts, little one.”

“Little. Pfft.” Yasha snorted, targeting computer fritzing in the throes of its’ self-repair. Black robed figures lined the walls, crawling toward the explosion in stasis above their heads. “Aw schucks, Kain’ik. We got a wordsmith. Let’s kill him.”

“Don’t you want to ask me for something first?” Balaam grinned, rows of yellow teeth stained by the destructive energies flickering through the space.

“Mmmmmmmmmmnope.” Yasha levelled her pistol and fired. The room’s inhabitants charged as Balaam laughed. “Full Australis, baby.”

 

[Yasha Cadera]

The atrium exploded with Rhandite bodies rushing the pair. Back to back, Yasha felt the thrill of battle with her [member="Kaine Australis"]. This was the part of their lives they held sacred. In destruction, Kaine and Yasha were a unit, unlike any of his lovers back home. Yasha’s autocannon veered from her back to her right shoulder, bursts of fire arcing as she spun and chased Rhandites with her pistol.

"Have I mentioned how much I love our date nights, c'yare?!" Every piece of slag, every body flung up into the atrium’s mystic centre. Up and away, bobbing around above their heads. BOO burst with even more fire, covering Yasha and Kaine’s backs as they rushed for the Lord in the middle. Balaam.

The man, surprisingly adept for a man of his age, deked away from Kaine’s blade and brought one of his own creation out from seemingly nowhere.

Yasha continued to fire with her pistol, staying in the centre of the six spheres as she protected their back. Kain’ik was the one with both functional arms, this was his show. The Smokestone would be theirs, and what was more, answers.

Slowly, a trickle of their Mando’ade troops began to make their way to the Atrium, covered in the mess of their work. The troops formed around their Mand’alor, adding to the circle of destruction.

“You’re supposed to be destructive, Alor Australis! I’m disappointed. Come now! Hurry up, before I die of boredome!” Balaam goaded him on. Slicing into a block then twisting his wrist to angle for Kaine’s neck. “You want something from us! What is it!?”

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Yasha rocked back on her heels, pelted by the resurgence of Rhandite soldiers rushing into the Atrium. Pistol raised, left arm uselessly held to her chest, the pregnant Mand’alor fired round after round into the loosely armoured forcers. Bucket and SCABS disappeared again, their floating ethereal witness settling behind and to the side of Balaam Sivas.

The same Balaam Sivas, who with a yelp and a tooth-clenched groan was clutching his thighs on the ground. [member="Kaine Australis"]’ kick rang true, right up the middle.

“You can have every plan in the universe, but one!” Yasha grunted, biting back a loose laugh. The overhead strike hit cloth. Balaam rolled backward, rushing onto his feet with the arthritic savvy of an elderly man, who just remembered marathons were for younger men.

‘Kill him! Hurry up, he’s right there! Stab him with your swordy-thing!’ The sweet-sounding voice yelped, shadowy presence floating above Kaine Australis.

‘Are you Mandos or not? Kill him! Hurry, hurry, hurry… huuuuurry up! Portal’s opening, and those bodies’re totally helping! Aw gosh please, I know you’re not an Epicanthix like deafy over there… come ooonnnnnn hurry up!’ Andra’s ghost flailed, attempting to keep Kaine’s attention on the task at hand.

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Balaam slumped in his own mess, body twitching. His corpse levitated, rushing upward into the atrium’s caustic ceiling. In his end, the old sinner got to see destruction incarnate in Kaine and Yasha. He saw the crumbling of his ruins and walls. The deaths of his Rhandites.

It was, most especially, a good death.

‘About sweet, sweet time.’ The ephemeral voice echoed through the space, as swirls of energy congealed in the floating atrium ceiling. They disintegrated, balling into a single point.

The energy shifted. Rhandites dropped their weapons and prostrated their bodies on the ground. Yasha swerved around, and dove for Kaine, body-slamming him into the ground as a wave of energy rushed from the point above their heads.

“Dha Werda Verda live on. Thank the Dark you came, when you did… not that I didn’t see you coming.” That sweet voice expanded. Rushed deeper, less ephemeral. Floating legs became solid. The mask fell away from an androgynous face. “Oh sweet happy living, I missed this.”

“Andra, what the heck!?”

“I needed this, Yaiya. The Darksight was depressing. I could talk but couldn’t act… See, those years I left the Netherworld, Daddy dearest forced me back. Stupid Balaam could only do it halfway. I can arrange a trade… and your man paid yours. What do you guys want?”