Legacy

[*Animus]

"Hold on, Gwynn," Animus says quietly as he holds his sister's hand. The fey pact gone awry was once again taking a toll on her, driving her to constantly fulfill her side of the bargain by having her eternally search for Neli. Once again he prayed to his goddess to sacrifice his life force and grant it to Gwynn. He could not completely heal her, unfortunately. That would be like healing a knife wound with the knife still within. All he could do was sustain her.

The Abyss, Acheron, Arborea... the Outlands, Pandemonium, Ysgard... a countless number of primes... would there be any plane they would not traverse in this mad search? Animus shakes his head and maintains his focus a he prays, siphoning more of his life force into his prone sister. You're going to kill yourself... I DON'T CARE! He grits his teeth. She is my sister and dear friend. There is no sacrifice I won't make for her.

At last Gwynn's breathing steadies and the flu-like symptoms go away... for now. She slowly gets to her feet and begins walking once again with no word of thanks to her brother. The only thing from her lips, "I'm coming Neli."

You sacrifice everything and the only one she cares about is a murderer. Animus struggles to his feet, using the scabbard of his great sword as a cane to maintain balance. Shut up. She can't help it. His muscles had started to deteriorate as his skin turned paler and his hair turned grayer after another prayer. Yet he doggedly follows after his sister, each step a painful limp. It would be many hours and many prayers until simple exhaustion would take Gwynnithe, allowing a moments rest and the vision of her spirit guide to touch his mind.

Two Days Later

Darkness takes Animus as he falls into his bed. With Maggie in control of Gwynn and keeping her safe from the pact, he was given the time he would need to find someone that could commune with his father's spirit, but that is now meaningless. Worn and frail, the giant Aasimar looked ages older than he should, the cost of his sacrifice. The darkness that took him was not that of sleep but of death. His mouth wheezes desperately for air as his heart pounds erratically in his chest.

As Animus slips further and further away, does he find himself pulled into a tunnel of light and hear the heavenly hosts welcoming to the after life? No, for he had his own pact to keep. It is not upwards but downwards he is pulled, the wail of the damned screeching a cacophony into his hears. Clawed hands grab tightly to his limbs and drag him deeper into the depths of the hells.

Animus... a wicked voice coos softly into his mind with a chuckle. Such an interesting name you have chosen for yourself, my harvester.

The tunnel ends and Animus finds himself falling down through the skies of Nessa, the Ninth Layer of the Hell. The clawed hands are revealed to belong to fell birds with the faces of imps. As the abominations carry their pray through the sky, a giant mass of swirling red forms above the Aasimar.

"Your time is done," the same voice emits from the mass as it begins to change into the shape of a man's head. Another chuckle comes from the forming lips, "Welcome home."

A cold sweat runs down Animus' face as the divine power leaves him, allowing him to feel fear once again for the first time in several months. His body quakes as the head of Asmodeus fully forms before him. He closes his eyes, to shut out the image and he prays. Sune... if it is my time, then so be it. But please... save my sister and look out for the rest of my family and friends when I am gone. The AasimarÂ’s eyes open wide and he stares into the fully formed face of Asmodeus. His heart quakes at the sight, but his gaze is stern and set, ready to face eternity.

Animus suddenly sits up from his bed, panting for breath as he stares at the door of his room at the inn. Several moments pass in silence as his mind tries to comprehend what happened. A... dream? His chest rises and falls as he reaches up to wipe the sweat from his brow. He then notices his skin is no longer pale and taught but healthy. He reaches for a mirror and peers into it, finding his hair back to its original fiery red hues. Was it all a dream?

Animus goes to stand but his legs buckle beneath him and he falls back into his own bed. As he lands on his side, he feels some hard press against his leg in his pocket. After rolling over, he reaches in and pulls out the stone the spirit guide, Maggie, had instructed him to take from Gwynn. His eyes widen as he gazes into it. Then it wasn't a dream! But why am I alive? His free hand reaches up to feel the skin on his face, the occasional scale, and also tracing a finger along the scars.

This is like the time I first came to Sigil. Animus' eyes dart around the room, half expecting to spot the fiery haired woman that must have saved him the first time. The room is bare. He sighs as he more carefully stands. His legs are wobbly beneath him, but not nearly as bad as they had been. Still, his armor feels awkwardly heavy on him and he begins to undo all the clasps. In a few minutes, the chest plate falls to the floor with a loud bang and Animus blinks in surprise as he looks at himself. While he was still healthy and somewhat muscular, he wasn't nearly as fit as he used to be. It looks like I have to start over once again. A small smile curves his lips as he sits back down on the bed. It isn't the first time, and likely won't be the last.

After offering a prayer of thanks to Sune and writing a new entry into his journal, Animus bathes and changes into a lighter outfit, eager to get started with his search for aid for Gwynn. However, upon entering the common room, Muriel calls out to him and hands over a letter. After breaking the wax seal and opening the parchment, he finds it to be a letter from one of his late father's associates at the foundry. A prototype for a new weapon? I guess I can check it out later. I have more important matters at the moment. The Aasimar thanks Muriel for the letter and makes his way out into Sigil.

[*Animus]

It was supposed to be a good day. How would have Animus expected otherwise? Zilvai was there, Kalina was there, and his father and Dom soon followed. Almost all his dearest friends and family were there to support him. He opened his heart to Zilvai; she was stunned and asked for more time, which he gladly allowed her. He told her more than anything he didn't want to loose what they already had, and she knew. He was certain she'd eventually say yes and, even if she didn't, they'd still be the best of friends. Everything was going to be fine.

Then why am I here?! Animus tries to thrash free of the chains binding him to the floor. He didn't know where he was or why he was here. His memories are a blur of images flashing through his mind. Fire, Zilvai lying dead, Dom, Jach, and Kalina with looks of horror on their face as they face an unseen foe! Let me go! He tries again to break free, but he can barely move and his mouth is bound. All the power granted to him as a Sorcerer and he couldn't employ any of it. His heart pounds in his chest, his teeth grit behind the mask, but no matter how hard he thrashes, he can't break free.

As the images rush through his mind over and over again, hot tears well in his eyes. Unable to speak, he can only cry out his anger in his mind. I don't know who you are or why you've done this to me... But I'll get free! You hear me?! Whatever it takes! I... will... be... free... AND I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU!!!

[*Animus]

[align=center]Reflection of the Beast

Look.
Look through the looking glass and see what you are.
See what you've become.
Look through the looking glass and see who you really are.
You may be able to trick them.
You may pretend youÂ’re something youÂ’re not.
But you canÂ’t trick the looking glass.
You canÂ’t trick me.
You canÂ’t trick the looking glass.
Now you canÂ’t even trick yourself.
The looking glass will not let you forget!
YouÂ’ll forever see yourself as what you truly are;
a beast![/align]