[Durelin]

A stinging pain brought only a smile from Sevora. She finally faced a true opponent. Fingering the light slash down her cheek, Sevora eyed the tribesman before her. They circled, watching each other for a move. Sevora idly wondered who was quicker. He was inevitable stronger; his arms were quite muscular. And he held his spear with a natural deadliness, which made him all the more dangerous. Suddenly he lunged forward, and Sevora fell to the ground in order to dodge the man's spear. Rolling across the ground, Sevora was able to get a slash in the man's foot, giving her time to get up. This time she lunged at him, only to have her blow blocked by the man's own spear. She tried to stab him with her knife now that they fought in close quarters, but he knocked it away from his body with the butt of his spear and pushed it into Sevora's stomach. With a grunt of the air rushing out of her, she couldn't afford to take the time to catch her breath, and so she jumped back, gasping and wheezing. The man came at her, knowing he had yet another advantage over her, as she was weakened. Sevora dropped her knife in order to hold her short spear in both hands to block his spear thrust. Her spear only broke, and his spear kept going, till it struck her in the side.

It was pain unlike anything she had ever felt or even desired to feel. The pain gripped her entire body, locking her muscles. It seemed she could feel the blood scorching and freezing her bones as it rushed to leave her body through the gaping wound. Her breath was short, and icy sweat suddenly covered her. It was a strange mix of the cold sweat and the hot blood. Sevora knew that this was the pain of death. This was a pain that could not be forgotten or ignored in the slightest, even by the strongest and most practiced mind. This was the pain Rahvin had already experienced. That realization sent another pain to sting her soul. She looked up and…she saw. Her eyes still saw the world. She was alive for now. And she saw the tribesmen standing over her, his eyes locked on her. He still held his spear ready to use. He was making sure she was dead. She could see… Sevora put her hand into the blood pouring out of her side, cupping her hand to gather as much as she could. Then, looking up again at the man, the infidel, she flung her life source in his face, and was rewarded by an enraged yell. The man dropped his spear and pulled up his hands to wipe the blood from his eyes. In those few moments, Sevora managed to rise. She swayed where she stood and could only just feel her feet. So she grabbed the man to support herself…grabbed him by the throat. She faintly felt her legs. She stared into the eyes of her enemy, most of her blood gone from them, and tried to focus. To remain awake from her long sleep. The man's legs gave way before the gurgling in his throat stopped, so Sevora had no warning of her fall. She hit the ground hard, though luckily her arm took most of the impact. She could still feel it.

Suddenly someone else stood above her, as her killer had. Sevora wondered if this tribesman would be merciful and deliver a quick killing blow. If it was an enemy. She -- darkness consume her! -- she could not see! Her vision was blurry. She could feel a burning heat rising in her throat. She knew what this was. Her blood. Her life was running from her body, leaving just a case, an empty shell that was not she. Her soul was all that kept that body hers, and made her alive. Without it, her body, her casing, her shell, would rot, being food for the bugs. "I will hold power among the worms!" she said quietly, the blood running from her mouth in small trickles. It sprayed forth as she laughed, wheezing and hoarsely. The person knelt down, peering at Sevora, and she could just make out who it was. Only just. O how she wished to weep! If only she had the strength. It was Jasara. A blessing it was not Ghurdan or Dristi who saw her in such a state. Weakened to the point of destruction. Had the end come because the Eye had abandoned her? Or had her Master known she would…destroy herself. She had brought her own death upon her, had she not? She had underestimated both her enemies and her allies. Her so-called allies. Was Jasara an ally? A true ally? It was too late to worry about that. She had no more need of allies. But…

"What of my afterlife, Jasara? My Master abandoned me before my death. Will he welcome me back after it?" Sevora's blurred vision still saw Jasara's eyes clearly. Alight with a cold flame. What did her eyes look like now?

"Our Master should, for you have served him beyond measure."

"But I gave myself to my own destruction."

"Perhaps it is only time for you to serve out Master in a different way. In a different world."

Serve me… The cold, grating voice echoed through her mind, bringing a moment of fiery life back into her dying body. Her Master could replace her blood, her life! And he would! She would continue to serve him after death, beyond this world. In different ways. And he would welcome her.

"Yes…it is. I will serve. As you will, Jasara, here. You will become a Priestess to our Master, and you will rise to the Highest of the Order! No other Priestess has done so, but it is time women such as you and I were made known. Our Master calls me in the grave, but you, Jasara, you have much yet to do in this world of the living." She stopped, gasping for breath, choking on her own blood. She knew now that she must chose her words, for few she would be able to say. She could feel an icy hand waiting to clamp down on her heart. Was it her Master?

"Be a good cat, sister." Sevora began to laugh again, a high almost trilling sort of cackle, sounding so full of life that it did not fit with her pale face and the blood covering her lips and chin. Her eyes burned again. As her laughter died, her body died with it, and her spirit went in search of her Master.