do you not?
Are you not the all-powerful Demon Lord?"
"I cannot, as you well
know."
"So, you need my help."
"You need mine
more, or your Overworld will die ," he retorted.
"Ah, but did she not only suffer
at your hands?"
"She will not again, I swear
it."
S he shook her head in
gentle reproof. "That is not enough."
"Then what do you want?" Bane's
voice rose, harsh with pain. "I will fight the Black Lord, free the
Overworld, but only if she lives."
"Tell me what you would give to
her."
"Just give her back to me!"
The pale radiance faded. "I will
not send her precious soul back to sup the dregs from your table,
Demon Lord."
"Wait! Do you care nothing for
the Overworld? Will you let it perish?"
T he light that
enshrined her pulsed. "I will ask the question one last time. Only
when you admit it to me, will you admit it to yourself. What do you
feel for her?"
He shook his head, confused and
angry. "How should I know what it is? I have not felt anything like
it before. It weakens me, and I hate it. It is an Overworld
emotion, born of their puny flesh, of which it now seems I am a
part. Send her back, and I shall not harm or abandon her. More than
that you will not get from me, since I have no more to give. Make
of that what you will."
"You may not
know what it is you feel, but I do. You love her, Bane." Her green
eyes glowed. "Very well, I
shall return her to you, but you will provide the life force to
bring her back. It will be your punishment, and it is no small
thing, for suffering is something of which you have had far too
much."
Bane looked
down at Mirra, frowning. Nothing would be too great a sacrifice, if
it brought her back. He groaned as a terrible weight seemed to fall
on him, making him slump. A deep cold invaded him, and his strength
drained from him as if an artery had been opened and his blood
flooded out. His vision darkened, and the cave spun sickeningly. A
trembling weakness followed on the heels of the cold, and the
crushing weight pressed down on him so he laboured to breathe, his
heart racing. Sweat ran down his brow, yet he shivered as the
terrible cold froze his gut. He gasped, drawing breath with a great effort, and wondered
if he was dying.
Mirra sighed. Her skin blossomed with
golden radiance, and the wound in her chest vanished, leaving only
the bloodstain on her robe. Her waxy pallor faded as colour
returned to her skin. He struggled to stay conscious to witness the
miracle of her return to life, but a black curtain descended and
oblivion washed over him.
When Bane woke, he lay on his
back, a sour taste in his mouth. He sat up, fighting the quivering
weakness of his limbs, which barely obeyed him, and examined his
hands, expecting to find withered skin and liver spots. They looked
no different, but he knew something of what the Goddess had done,
and wondered how many years of his life he had given to bring Mirra
back from the dead. He ached, and his stomach tried to crawl into
his mouth.
Mirra slept, her skin warm, a
pulse beating in the hollow of her throat.
"Bane."
He looked up at the Goddess, who
gazed down at him with gentle, glowing eyes.
"Some of your life has been
given to her, as you rightly suspect. As for your threat. Yes. You
could have forced my hand, for I will not let the Overworld die if
I can find a way to save it, but it is better this way, for both of
us. You may yet lose her again, Demon Lord, for she is in great
peril. When your hour is blackest, and your need greatest, remember
this; no one can stand alone always."
Bane opened
his mouth to ask what she meant, but her radiant visage vanished.
He looked down at Mirra, the ice within him thawing. The glow under
her skin had paled, and she shivered in the cave's chill. He
unclipped his cloak and wrapped her in it, but she continued to
shiver, and he glared around at the ice pillars, finding that
they , too, had vanished. The
grey walls of an Overworld cave replaced the Lady's sanctum, watery
sunlight coming through the
Are you not the all-powerful Demon Lord?"
"I cannot, as you well
know."
"So, you need my help."
"You need mine
more, or your Overworld will die ," he retorted.
"Ah, but did she not only suffer
at your hands?"
"She will not again, I swear
it."
S he shook her head in
gentle reproof. "That is not enough."
"Then what do you want?" Bane's
voice rose, harsh with pain. "I will fight the Black Lord, free the
Overworld, but only if she lives."
"Tell me what you would give to
her."
"Just give her back to me!"
The pale radiance faded. "I will
not send her precious soul back to sup the dregs from your table,
Demon Lord."
"Wait! Do you care nothing for
the Overworld? Will you let it perish?"
T he light that
enshrined her pulsed. "I will ask the question one last time. Only
when you admit it to me, will you admit it to yourself. What do you
feel for her?"
He shook his head, confused and
angry. "How should I know what it is? I have not felt anything like
it before. It weakens me, and I hate it. It is an Overworld
emotion, born of their puny flesh, of which it now seems I am a
part. Send her back, and I shall not harm or abandon her. More than
that you will not get from me, since I have no more to give. Make
of that what you will."
"You may not
know what it is you feel, but I do. You love her, Bane." Her green
eyes glowed. "Very well, I
shall return her to you, but you will provide the life force to
bring her back. It will be your punishment, and it is no small
thing, for suffering is something of which you have had far too
much."
Bane looked
down at Mirra, frowning. Nothing would be too great a sacrifice, if
it brought her back. He groaned as a terrible weight seemed to fall
on him, making him slump. A deep cold invaded him, and his strength
drained from him as if an artery had been opened and his blood
flooded out. His vision darkened, and the cave spun sickeningly. A
trembling weakness followed on the heels of the cold, and the
crushing weight pressed down on him so he laboured to breathe, his
heart racing. Sweat ran down his brow, yet he shivered as the
terrible cold froze his gut. He gasped, drawing breath with a great effort, and wondered
if he was dying.
Mirra sighed. Her skin blossomed with
golden radiance, and the wound in her chest vanished, leaving only
the bloodstain on her robe. Her waxy pallor faded as colour
returned to her skin. He struggled to stay conscious to witness the
miracle of her return to life, but a black curtain descended and
oblivion washed over him.
When Bane woke, he lay on his
back, a sour taste in his mouth. He sat up, fighting the quivering
weakness of his limbs, which barely obeyed him, and examined his
hands, expecting to find withered skin and liver spots. They looked
no different, but he knew something of what the Goddess had done,
and wondered how many years of his life he had given to bring Mirra
back from the dead. He ached, and his stomach tried to crawl into
his mouth.
Mirra slept, her skin warm, a
pulse beating in the hollow of her throat.
"Bane."
He looked up at the Goddess, who
gazed down at him with gentle, glowing eyes.
"Some of your life has been
given to her, as you rightly suspect. As for your threat. Yes. You
could have forced my hand, for I will not let the Overworld die if
I can find a way to save it, but it is better this way, for both of
us. You may yet lose her again, Demon Lord, for she is in great
peril. When your hour is blackest, and your need greatest, remember
this; no one can stand alone always."
Bane opened
his mouth to ask what she meant, but her radiant visage vanished.
He looked down at Mirra, the ice within him thawing. The glow under
her skin had paled, and she shivered in the cave's chill. He
unclipped his cloak and wrapped her in it, but she continued to
shiver, and he glared around at the ice pillars, finding that
they , too, had vanished. The
grey walls of an Overworld cave replaced the Lady's sanctum, watery
sunlight coming through the
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