(From: Chapter Three Act Six: The Hunt (Part 2 of 5))

Storn: So every life cursed by the beast is his follower? Is it truly right to take away their will for your personal cause?

Storn: Their lives will be a daze, fading in and out of consciousness. One moment, their snout may be gently stroked, the next, it is buried into the flesh of a foe they do not remember killing. Imagine that for every beast in existence.

Torund: That sounds pretty bad alright...

Taeyva: Torund, please, I-

Torund: ...but that's because you described the life of every werewolf. I've killed more than I can count because I couldn't control it. I'm a killer, I know this. I've accepted it. But not everyone is and not everyone can. When you discover you've killed and have no memory of it...

Torund: If they're under your control, they won't be able to kill unless ordered to, right?

Taeyva: Yes! Exactly.

Torund: Then I'm with you.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(From: Chapter Three Act Six: The Hunt (Part 2 of 5))

Torund: Those chains are supposed to limit you! How are you-

Taeyva: I've waited too long to have it slip from my grasp.

Taeyva: You will not make me fail again.

Taeyva: This spell will force a transformation out of you. From there you will do as I command. It's the only way.

Taeyva: I'm sorry.

Torund: I won't let you do this!

The fire crackles in the center of the longhouse. Embers spew from the blaze and burst into the air. Shadows from the flames dance across the walls.

To Storn Crag-Strider, the display is captivating.

He stands inside the longhouse, arms relaxed at his sides, taking a brief respite from maintaining the barrier. It will be a couple of hours until his presence is required to re-stabilize it; until then, Nikulas and Finna should have no trouble holding it. Storn could sleep, sit down, or even just close his eyes, but he can't.

Taeyva's departure roiled the tumult of his mind. The confident smirk on her lips as she sauntered off gave him chills. How could she be so sure of herself? The barrier can withhold an entire Daedric Lord; surely, it can at least weaken her.

Frea: Father.

His daughter's voice pulls him from his thoughts.

Frea: Take this time to rest. You are going to need your strength.

Storn sighs. His eyes struggle to stay open, laden with exhaustion.

Storn: No. There isn't time.

Storn: At any moment, she could be here. I must be ready to hold her off.

Frea huffs. She tenses up and squeezes shut her eyes. After taking a deep breath, she slowly exhales, letting her shoulders fall with it.

Frea: You're exhausted, Father. Please, try to get some res-

THUD! THUD! THUD!

An aggressive pounding on the door stifles the conversation.

Frea's hand instinctively flies to her waraxe.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

The door shudders again as another set of banging pounds against it. Frea fidgets in place, a tinge of trepidation creeps through her. Despite wearing fully armored gloves, the sweat beading in her palms makes her grip feel unsteady.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Storn gulps. All of the exhaustion he's accumulated over the last few days suddenly crashes into him at once. His hands tremble at the thought of what might be on the other side of the door. There's no way he can do anything to stop it in his current condition.

His eyes grow wide when the latch clicks, shifting the decrepit handle as the door creaks slowly open.

Frea lowers her guard, doing the same with her weapon.

Frea: You?

Frea: What are you doing here?

Torund hunches over in the front of the house, his breaths coming out in ravenous pants. With each one, his shoulders give a heavy rise and fall.

Torund: Something's happened...

Torund: Taeyva... She... She's lost it.

Torund: We need to talk.

Earlier...

Taeyva: I'm sorry.

Torund: I won't let you do this!

Torund slams his palm down. It pummels through the snow and plants firmly against the ground. As Taeyva's spell crackles towards him, a surge of intensity fires throughout his body. He locks his arm firm, firing himself towards her.

Torund: Get off of me! Hrah!

Taeyva: Gah!

Torund's fist smashes into Taeyva's chin with an audible crack. Her head snaps back like a whip, yanking her body with it. She spirals off of him, tumbling over herself into the snow below.

As she struggles to pull herself up, Torund hastily clambers to his feet.

Torund: Enough! What in oblivion has gotten into you?

She manages to push herself onto one arm. Her shoulders heave violently and her entire body shakes.

Taeyva: You don't want to do this, Torund.

Torund holds out his hand, having finally regained his balance, and adopts the most calming voice he can.

Torund: Take a breath, okay?

Torund: You're not yourself right now.

Taeyva: Shut up!

Taeyva: I'm more myself than I've ever been. You don't know me. Don't act like you do!

Torund: I know you better than you thi-

Torund cuts off as she suddenly shoots to her feet. She rears back a clenched fist and charges at him. A wild madness flashes in her eyes.

Taeyva: Shut up!

Torund sighs.

Torund: You asked for it.

He digs his boots into the snow, creating small footholds. With his feet planted firm he raises his hands in preparation. Taeyva's maddened charge is nothing more than a burst of rage. There is no proper form in it, only hasty aggression. It will be easy to counter.

As soon as she gets close enough, she fires forward her fist. Torund arcs his back to the side. Her fist soars through the air, not so much as nicking the hairs on his chest.

All the momentum sends Taeyva careening forward. Her boots get caught in the snow and she topples off balance. Torund could easily let her fall, but it wouldn't change anything. She'll learn not to fight him the hard way.

He grabs her extended wrist with his left hand, squeezing with enough force to turn both his and her knuckles white. His other hand slams into the back of her head, yanking back on her hair to keep her in place.

Taeyva: What!?

Torund: Let this be a lesson to you...

Torund releases her hair, at the same time ripping his other arm forward along with Taeyva's wrist. Her body stumbles ahead of him; his grip the only thing keeping her on her feet. As she starts to tip over, Torund brings his other hand back to her head. His palm slams into it. He releases his grip on her wrist and fires against her head like a piston.

Torund: Don't mess with me!

Taeyva is chucked through the air like a pebble. She soars the the air and crashes into the bridge, causing it to sway.

Torund: Give it up. No matter how you attack, you'll always end up the same way.

Torund: Understand?

Taeyva doesn't answer. The bridge continues to rock back and forth. It creaks and groans with every movement, moaning as Taeyva struggles to her feet.

Taeyva: We'll see about that.

Torund: What? No! Get off the bridge and...

Torund trails off. Taeyva no longer seems to hear him. She doesn't move from the bridge, her head shaking as her body begins to tense up. A steady wind starts to blow over the mountain side, shifting the snow and brushing against the waterfall. Water droplets spatter over the bridge, freezing on impact. It gusts over his ears, muffling the world around him. Inside of them, a strange, yet somehow familiar, muttering echoes in his head. He cannot parse a single phrase, each sound coming out as an inaudible chant. He doesn't know how, but he recognizes them as words.

Then it hits him that they aren't in his head at all. They're from Taeyva.

Torund: T-Taeyva. What is going on?

There is no sign that she even heard him. The wind picks up, blowing violently. The bridge begins to rock, water gushing from the waterfall starts to slosh in the air, as if the wind is literally scooping it up in it's arms.

Torund: Taeyva! Stop this!

The muttering grows louder. It now resounds louder than the wind, roaring in his head like the howls of a thousand wolves.

Suddenly, Taeyva arches her back, extending her arms with flexed, clawing fingers.

She screams.

Taeyva: GRRAAAAAHH!

Torund: Taeyva, stop! Sto- What the...

Torund's breath flees his body as terror takes it's place. On the other side of the bridge, the snow begins to shift intensely as if an earthquake was occurring in that very spot. Some of it starts to rise in the air. It continuous to shake and tumble to the ground, revealing a large object underneath.

Taeyva: HRRAAAAHH!

The object drifts slowly through the air like an old ship. It comes to a gradual stop and hovers over the bridge, bobbing up and down slightly. As it does, the wind begins to recede along with the mutterings. But Torund hardly notices.

His beating heart pounds against the inside of his chest as he stares down the center of a massive, jagged, tree trunk.

Torund: How did you...

Taeyva gives him no time to react. She lurches around, shoving her heels against the wooden boards. The trunk, as if it were just strung onto a bow, fires forward like an arrow.

Torund: Shit shit shit shit!

Without a thought, Torund flees. A terrifying whoosh! grows in volume behind him. He doesn't even bother to look behind. Slamming his feet into the ground, he catapults himself to the side just as the tree passes over him.

Torund: SHIIIIIIIT!

A powerful blast of frigid air billows behind the trunk as it dives into the snow ahead of him. An splintering crack screeches the air as the trunk scrapes to a halt against a frozen stone.

Torund: What the fuck...

Torund, stunned by the close call, struggles to a kneeling position. He cranes his head and glowers at Taeyva. She sways atop the bridge, contemptuously scowling at him as arcs of magic return to her hands.

Taeyva: Had enough?

Torund sighs. He hoped it wouldn't have come to this. He reaches behind him, wrapping his fingers around the cold metal of his warhammer.

Torund: Fine. If that's how you want to play it.

Torund springs to his feet. He doesn't even finish fully grasping his weapon as he charges forward. If her earlier punch told him anything, it's that she doesn't know how to fight in melee. All he has to do is close the gap and he'll be able to land an easy strike.

Torund: Take this!

Taeyva's lips curl into a smirk.

Taeyva: Hmmph. Perfect.

Torund expects Taeyva to hold her ground or flee. Instead, she charges him. A maddened ferocity pulses in her eyes.

But it doesn't slow Torund down. He adjusts his attack, digging his right heel in front of him. It thuds against the bridge, forcing him to a stop just as Taeyva comes into range. He tightens his grip on his warhammer and swings out.

It soars harmlessly through the air.

Torund: What the-

Torund: How the fuck did you get so fast?

Taeyva arches her back, twirling gracefully out of reach of his attack. As she spins intricately around him, Torund catches a glimpse of her eyes, red like blood, bearing the same mischievous intent that is evident in her smile.

Taeyva: Heh. Wouldn't you like to know.

She weaves under him like a snake, springing behind him and then scampering onto solid ground.

Torund stumbles onto the bridge, his heavy feet cause it to wobble and creak. Unable to keep up, he only manages to turn around in the time it takes Taeyva to completely flank him.

Torund: Not again...

Taeyva: That's right.

Taeyva eyes Torund intently as a shadow passes over her. Her fingers curl together while her arm rises, raising the hulking tree trunk in the air once again.

Taeyva: Take this!

She juts out her arm, shooting the tree trunk out with it. It torpedoes through the air, snow and debris flying off like shrapnel. In just a few moments it will impale him if he doesn't move.

Trapped on the bridge, he can't dodge to the side. Outrunning it now is completely impossible too. There's only one way he can go: forward.

He digs his toes between two beams. Using it as leverage, he ducks low, pushing against it like a spring. As the trunk nears his head, he dives forward, extending his legs out in front of him.

The tree soars above him. A small branch snaps against his helmet.

His foot reaches the cliff side just as the bridge starts to rumble. Using all the momentum from the slide, Torund lurches his body around, sending his hammer crashing into Taeyva's jaw.

An ear splitting crack echoes across the canyon as Taeyva spirals through the air. The tree, spinning out of control, careens into the bridge, splintering the wood of each.

They all tumble through the air and slam into the ground; snow flutters out from below them. It drifts delicately downwards, joining with the icy layer atop the tree and bridge and melting against Taeyva's warm, still skin.

Torund, Storn, and Frea gather together by the fire as Torund concludes his tale. Despite their distaste in their guest, Storn and Frea listened intently and respectfully. It isn't until Torund completely finishes that they speak up, apprehension replacing their earlier pensive appearance.

Torund: She's probably still unconscious. I don't know. But when she wakes up I'm sure she'll come here.

Storn: All-Maker help us... This is worse than I thought.

Torund: Look, you people obviously know a lot. But I'm telling you, this isn't what she's normally like. It's like she's... she's...

Torund shakes his head, fumbling over himself as he fails to find the right words. To his surprise, Frea finds them for him; however what she says is something Torund never would have chosen.

Frea: A Daedra.

Torund: What?

He gapes at her, sure that she misspoke or he understood her wrong. She matches his stare, her expression as cold at the frost on the windows, and repeats herself.

Frea: She's a Daedra.

Torund's jaw draws tighter. He isn't sure if he should feel bewildered or furious. As his chest starts to swell, Storn swiftly cuts in.

Storn: No. She isn't a Daedra. At least... not entirely.

Torund exhales, his aggravation beginning to quell. He can feel his temper teeter on the verge of tipping, and gestures for Storn to continue.

Storn: According to your beliefs, the Aedric Pantheon, she isn't one. However, according to the All-Maker, she is.

Torund purses his lips, scrunching his eyes and brows as well. Storn has only just begun and already countless questions tumble through his mind.

Storn cocks his head, noticing the uncertainty in Torund's face, and continues.

Storn: The All-Maker created all there is. We would like to believe it was all his doing, but we cannot deny the existence of the Daedra and their ability to do the same.

As Storn finishes, Frea chimes in as if the discussion has been rehearsed.

Frea: They're called Prophets. They are the incarnate will of Godly beings.

A shudder ripples over Torund's spine. His hand rubs the back of his neck, the air seems to bite at him with frigid fangs, casting a foreboding chill over his body despite the warmth of fire mere feet away.

Torund: Wait... So she's not human?

Frea bobs her head side to side while giving a casual shrug.

Frea: It's hard to say. Admittedly, we don't know much about them either. They're existence is... rare. To say the least.

Storn gives Frea a nod, taking the lead in the discussion.

Storn: According to legend, they actually harbor a portion of their fathering Daedric Lord's power. Most of that power, however, only comes out when a Prophet is about to fulfill one of their predestined purposes. In Taeyva's case: enacting The Hunt. This could be her only role, or just one of many. It is impossible to know for sure.

Torund falters. He tries to speak up, but his tongue is in knots. Fortunately, his gawking silence is enough for Storn to understand, and he continues.

Storn: Documented information of Prophets existence are outlandish and few in number. We thought they were a myth. I had no idea what to do when Taeyva first came here fourteen years ago. I tried to convince the child in her to abandon her destiny. She was young, clueless. She couldn't possibly have known what she really is.

Torund: What happened?

Storn takes a deep breath. He opens and closes his mouth, shaking his head. A subtle "ah" or "mm" escapes his lips, suggesting him about to begin but never actually doing it. Frea rests her hand on his shoulder and nods, receiving one back, and takes over.

Frea: We discovered that there's no point in trying to convince her. It has nothing to do with stubbornness or ignorance, but a lack of free will. She was created for a single, or even many, purposes. It is wired in her brain.

Frea: That strange muttering you heard from her? My father described hearing something similar that day. "Words that aren't words at all. A static that rings in your head like a toiling bell; impossible to understand, yet easily recognizable as a language." We think that signals when she loses control, but we don't know.

Torund: So... Her rampage... It's because I tried to stop her from doing her purpose? But she lost it before she said those mutterings. She's been acting strange since we arrived on Solstheim. It doesn't make any se-

Storn holds up his hand. Torund's fists start to tighten, but he loosens them immediately. Now is not the time to let his temper take control.

Storn: You said those chains she wears limit her?

Torund hesitantly nods his head, unsure of where Storn could be going.

Storn: I see. I don't know what they do, but I know for sure that nothing is capable of containing the power she holds. The telekinesis she displayed against you is child's play compared to her full potential. Do you know anything else?

Torund shrugs.

Torund: I first met her was when she was imprisoned in them. They were created in the Oblivion Crisis, if I remember right. The Vigilant of Stendarr use them on Daedra Worshipers to stop them from using magic or something. I know she can still use magic though, she just gets really tired afterwards.

Storn nods. He puts a fist to his chin and methodically taps his foot, suddenly captivated by the floorboards. Torund swears he can actually see the gears in Storn's head turning while he ponders. After some agonizingly long seconds, he lifts his head and resumes speaking, now with a dreadfully serious tone.

Storn: The only way I can see those chains working on her is if they compress her magicka reserves. Even though she harbors power like that of a Daedric Lord, she is still physically human, and requires magicka to use that power. As soon as she arrived here, that power began to well up inside her. But because of those chains she can't properly release it, putting immense strain onto her body.

Torund falters. He leans back, letting all of the information settle. The more that does, the more hysteria he feels.

Torund: There has to be a way to help her! We can do something surely!

Storn shirks back. He clutches his sleeve, raising eyebrow with a sneer.

Storn: We?

Torund: Yes, we! Who the fuck else? The entire island is dead except for us!

Storn scoffs. His lips curl with disgust as he glares at Torund abhorrently.

Storn: The Skaal owe her nothing. Eventually the strain on her body will become too great and she will die. One less problem to worry about.

Torund's heart skips a beat. A fury of like he has never felt before surges up his body. His vision blurs as his hands tremble, all of his focus zooming in on the Skaal's throat. It takes every ounce of self control, abounds of it already fleeting, to keep himself from popping the man's head clean off his shoulder's. But he can't muster enough to hold himself back.

Rage taking over, Torund lurches forward and grasps hold of Storn's tunic. He hefts him into the air, above his head. His teeth clench with so much ferocity that his voice comes out like the bark of a rabid wolf. Spit flies from his lips like venom.

Torund: You spineless fuck! You know how to save her! Tell me!

Immediately, Frea yanks out her axe. She brandishes it threateningly while screaming at Torund with a hiss.

Frea: Drop him now!

Before either of them can react, Storn, to both of their surprise, speaks out.

Storn: No. Frea. Lower your weapon.

Frea: What? Uh...

Frea gawks at him, incredulous. She huffs and eases back, her weapon still in hand.

Storn lets out a breath and turns back to Torund. He gulps.

Storn: There is... one way...

Storn: But it comes with it's own set of problems. If we do it then-

Torund: Tell me. Now.

Storn shudders.

Storn: The barrier. I can re-tune it to absorb the rest of her magicka. It will take all the strain off her body and return her to normal but...

Torund: But?

Storn: It isn't a guarantee. If there is too much then it will literally tear her body apart. Not to mention we will be destroyed along with her. The barrier will also fall with it and-

Storn cuts off as Torund releases his grip. He tumbles onto the floor and grunts in pain. Frea rushes to his aide.

Frea: Father!

Torund glowers at them from above.

Torund: Looks like we have a plan then.

Frea eases Storn to a sitting position; her eyes never leave him. Her father rubs his head uncomfortably, the trauma of the experience not helping his exhaustion.

Frea: Are you alright?

Storn: I'm... I'm okay.

Torund: It's time to stop hiding, Storn.

Torund grinds his teeth as he speaks. He tries his best to comes across brazen and assertive, without showing his aggravation.

Torund: Sitting under your barrier only delays the inevitable. You know that.

Torund: It's time you actually do something about it.

He marches to the door and stops. He faces the two Skaal and juts out his finger.

Torund: I'm going to hold her off. Are you going to play your part?

Storn and Frea share a look. The apprehension, evident in Frea's expression, lifts as Storn cracks a faint smile, giving her a firm nod. He then turns back to Torund and does the same.

Storn: You can count on us.

For the first time since he set foot on Solstheim, Torund can feel his attitude lift. Cracking a hopeful smile for the first time in a while, he returns Storn's nod and bellows out a fired up cry.

Torund: Let's save that pain in my ass!

Outside of the longhouse, the three of them are startled to find that the village has already gathered around the front entrance. Each of the Skaal has their weapon drawn, but where their blades bear a threatening semblance, most faces do not. Many hands shake, rattling the iron handles in their grip. Expressions are drawn tight with fear and worry; an emotion Torund recognizes all too easily.

Oslaf assumes command as soon as the trio steps out, bearing a more confident aura than his comrades.

Oslaf: I got the village to gather here as soon as she arrived. Everyone's present except for Deor. I-

Frea swiftly cuts in, speaking with a rare type of patient urgency that only an experienced leader could have. Torund is impressed.

Frea: Where is he?

Oslaf: Past the horker hut. He charged at her with his axe. I couldn't stop him. Storn, Frea... What are we going to do?

Frea: We're going to calm her down. Torund?

Oslaf falters, rapidly looking back and forth from Frea to Torund.

Oslaf: What? Are we chums now or something?

Torund ignores the remark, his attention taking by the horizon ahead. It's been so long since he last felt this type of fear, he thought he'd forgotten it. Just over the ridge, Taeyva's life hangs on the slim chance that this works.

If it doesn't, he, and all The Skaal, will probably die. But that isn't what drives his fear now.

Torund: I'll do what I can to buy time. Can you get the barrier ready by then?

Oslaf: Wait, what? Storn, what's he talking about?

Storn: I only need a few minutes.

Torund swallows and fills his lungs with a shaky breath. He exhales loudly, giving a commanding nod.

Torund: Good. The rest of you stay here.

Torund: She is my responsibility.

 

Up ahead...

 

Deor: Please! Please, no! I'm sorry!

Taeyva: Sorry?

Taeyva: You charge at me with this axe and think an apology will save you?

Taeyva: Oh, how ironic it will be when I bury this between your eyes, you she-

Torund: Taeyva!

The axe tumbles back the ground. Taeyva twists around and snarls, the madness in her eyes more vivid and deranged than when he last saw her.

Taeyva: Torund.

Taeyva: You won't win again, you know.

Torund meets her glare with a scorn. With his arm raised, he stomps towards her, his shoulder's broadened and muscles flexed.

Torund: I'm not here to fight.

Torund shoots Deor a quick look, making sure to return his focus to Taeyva as soon as possible. Though brief, it was enough to get the message across, as Deor flips over off his back and scrambles back to join the rest of the Skaal.

Deor: Woah-Ahhhhh!

His scream is impossible to miss, yet Taeyva doesn't flinch. Locked in the tension of one another, neither she nor Torund make a move.

Taeyva: Then what is it? G-gonna... t-try to calm me down or... or something...

Each word is forced out with visible effort. She grunts with every pause; her entire body shudders each time.

Taeyva: It... hurts.

Torund gulps and outstretches one hand consolingly. His heart beats faster as the trepidation already gnawing at him starts to build.

Torund: Hey hey hey, look here okay? I'm going to get you through this.

Torund: Taeyva?

She no longer seems to hear him. She hunches over with arms raised, fingers tightening over her quivering hands. It ripples down them, over her arms and across her body, until every part of her succumbs to a violent trembling.

Taeyva: You can't. Nobody... c-can.

Her arms flop to her sides. They tense back up as her shoulder's rise along with her trembling. A glimmer flashes in her eye and slides down her cheek, sparkling in the setting sun.

Taeyva: It's a... p-part... of me.

Taeyva: And yet... I... I still fail...

Her body shakes with a violent intensity, so much that Torund can feel it as well. Then he realizes it isn't her at all, but the area around him. Snow jitters over his boots as the ground below starts to shift. A deep, resonant hum pulses in Torund's head. He forces steady breaths amidst the developing pressure, doing whatever he can to maintain a complacent appearance despite amounting panic and terror threatening his will to snap.

Torund: You didn't fail, Taeyva.

Suddenly she cries out. The suffering in her voice shatters. The subtle humming ruptures into a ear splitting explosion.

Taeyva: You don't know that!

Torund's eyes grow wide. The sound persists, blasting into his skull like thunder. The specks of snow, previously just skipping about, bound up and down with the tumultuous roaring. His knees start to shake. The air weighs down on him, punching and digging into his shoulders and head. He can't keep on his feet. He doesn't feel his knees buckle, yet the world begins to rise above him. He looks down. His boots are still planted firmly in the snow. He looks to the left. The flame in the brazier snuffs out. The rusted iron starts to groan. It vibrates vehemently, rising into the air. To his right, the decrepit, wooden hut starts to splinter. It caves into itself. Wooden beams snap inwardly. Splintered shrapnel explodes from the cracks.

He turns forward. Around Taeyva the air itself shakes. Behind her an entire house levitates, swaying like a boat in stormy seas.

Torund: Fuck...

As Torund gapes at the carnage, Taeyva continues to cry out. Either oblivious to what she is doing or too far along to stop anyway, Torund doesn't know.

Taeyva: I was born into this! Everything I am is just a role! A purpose! No one knows what that's like!

Torund's eyes remain locked on the house as it continues to rise. Despite the continuous thundering around him, Taeyva's voice emanates loud and clear. In it is something different than before... something human. An anguish that only true suffering can cause plagues every word. This isn't the girl who told him to kill The Skaal back on the bridge. This is the child he met ten years ago. The innocent, hopeful girl whom he rescued from the Vigilant's capture.

Torund: Taeyva...

She isn't gone yet.

Frea: Torund! Get ready!

His eyes grow wide. He had forgotten about the barrier. Taeyva is on the brink of coming back, he can feel it. If they activate it now...

Taeyva: What?

He turns back to Taeyva. If there was any hope of bringing her back normally, it is gone now. Her voice comes out a bitter hiss, her sense of betrayal evident in her entire being.

Taeyva: You're helping them? Against me?

He raises his hands defensively. He starts to lose control as panic takes over. He sputters out a response with quivering lips, petrified that he won't be able to mend the situation.

Torund: No. No! It's to bring you back to who you are! They are trying to help!

Taeyva: And you believed them? Don't you know how much they despise me?

Frea: Hurry, Father!

Storn: Just a couple of seconds...

Taeyva: I never should have trusted you. You fu-

Storn: Now!

Frea: Go, Torund! Run!

Every sound around them ceases. The barrier above folds into itself like a funnel. It cracks like a fissure in the sky. Then, like a bolt of lightning, it surges towards Taeyva. She screams as it pierces her body. A blinding burst of light blasts outwards as sound returns with a single, sudden explosion.

Taeyva: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

Torund's hands rush to shield his face. His eyes instinctively slam shut, but he pries them open. He fights with everything he has to keep them squinted just enough to make out Taeyva's outline.

They start to burn and crackle. He knows he can go blind at any moment, yet in the searing whiteness of the light, only one thing concerns him.

Torund: Don't you dare die on me, Taeyva.

 

To be continued in part 4...

 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

Let me know if any pose from the fight scene really interested you. It was 100% custom made out of poses that I am considering for Colly's Poser V3. So if one really caught your eye or something, let me know and I'll make sure that one is included. Thanks!