Awaken, my vessel! Know the meaning of fear... fear... of the Black Heart...

The boy's eyes opened. His head throbbed, a dull pain in the left side of his head. His curved eyes squinted, adjusting to the light. He brought up his hands to wipe the sleep from his face, and he sat up in his straw bed. A yawn escaped his lips, and he rose to his feet. He stared out at the open plains. The beauty of Khitai... the Great Wall could even be seen from a distance, a comfort to the boy.

Yet even in the security in knowing his land was safe, he struggled with himself. His head continued to ache as he slipped on his clothing - a long high-necked silk jacket of earthen color, as well as a pair of trousers. He grabbed his straw hat, and placed it over his head, before stepping outside. The sunlight caused him to squint harder, only irritating the pain in his head further. He looked about at the fields. Farmers, people as he, of Khitai. He spotted the great purple towered city of Paikang nearby, sitting there, as a reminder of where he lived.

The boy tugged his hat off and scratched his bald head lightly, as an itch made its way to his head. He muttered somewhat in the heat of the sun, that ball of fire far in the sky. His eyes wandered to the sun, watching as best as he could, squinting his eyes, battling the ache in his head until he could take it no more, and recoiled, bumping into a woman.

"Kaisol! I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you," she said, bowing to him in respect.

The boy squinted at the woman, and inclined his head.

"Kaisol, are you alright?" She asked, as she shook her head, her braided hair coming undone.

What... insolence is this. That you are my vessel means you serve me... yet you fight. Know this boy of the east... your struggle will hurt you far more then myself...

"I... do I know you?" Kaisol responded.

"What..." the woman scoffed, "Of course you know me. You are my brother. I am your sister, Mei."

"Mei..." he uttered, shaking his head, "...I do not know you. I would know if you were my sister."

Mei frowned, "Kaisol, this is not amusing. Father sent me to get you to meet him over by the cotton fields. You are not getting out of an honest day's work again!"

Kaisol frowned, squinting his eyes. A frustrated look passed over his face as he muttered, "Kaisol... that is not even my name!"

"Of course it is... what is wrong with you?"

The boy raised his eyes to meet Mei's. Again he frowned. She seemed - felt - familiar. Yet she was strange to him, a foreigner even. The boy felt as if he were in a foreign land, yet... yet he recognized it as home. He cursed under his breath.

"I..." the boy said. "I... don't know. I will find father."

Kaisol made his way north east, towards the cotton fields. He did not know who he would look for, all he knew was that he needed to find his father. But who was his father? Who was that woman that claimed to be his sister. The frustration only mounted higher. He balled his fists up, and paused... this was foolish. Why was he looking for a man he didn't even know... his feet started moving again, despite his resistance against the idea. Perhaps he would remember.

He approached the cotton fields, his eyes scanning about. Several men were working diligently, as one stood, overseeing the work. This one looked older, with a grey topknot, wearing a brown padded jacket and trousers. A curved sword was strapped over his back, a tulwar of some kind. His arms were crossed, as he oversaw the workers, before turning, and noting the boy.

"Kaisol. Finally here I see. What took you?"

"Father?"

"Yes," the older man growled, "I am your father. Where have you been?"

"I..." Kaisol began and frowned. "I am afraid. I do not know you. Nor Mei, who claims to be my sister. I do not know my own name... I feel empty. So empty..."

The older man's eyes widened, "Have you spoken of this to anyone?"

Kaisol shook his head, "No."

"Keep it as that. When the day ends, we will go speak with wise man Heng in the village. He can help you. Take the-"

"HYRKANIANS!"

Kaisol, as well as his father, and the workers all turned their heads as several infantrymen ran from the village to their position. Several horseback forms emerged, coming from over a hill. Hyrkanian. Each armed with a bow, they rode hard for them - raiders...

"Kaisol... get back to the village, now! Warn the others, even if you do not know them!"

"What should I call you, father?!" He called out.

"You know... I am Lei! Now go!"

Kaisol turned, and began to move, but then the blood curdling howl of pain could be heard. He turned, and his eyes widened as the Hyrkanians all fired their bows as they rode. One of the peasant farmers howled out, as six arrows pierced his body, killing him instantly. Lei unstrapped his tulwar, ready to fight. Kaisol stood frozen, watching as the Hyrkanians swiftly closed the gap...

You stand there as a frozen dog... FIGHT!

Kaisol felt something clouding him, something tugging at him. He closed his eyes, and felt himself go to sleep, as if someone had drugged him with lotus...

Yes... give in to me...

Kaisol's eyes opened. He moved forward. He grabbed one of the pitchforks laying on the ground, and made his way to the riders. Lei offered an angry look, yet Kaisol did not notice, charging for the Hyrkanians, who tried to keep a distance so that they might fire their bows. Yet Kaisol pursued, his eyes emotionless and cold. He lunged forward, thrusting the pitchfork at the closest Hyrkanian. The rider was out of range, yet the horse was not. The prongs of the pitchfork impaled the backside of the horse, drawing blood, and causing the beast of burden to fall, throwing its rider.

The Hyrkanian rolled several times, before rising to his feet. He drew a curved blade, and charged Kaisol, yet Lei stepped in the way, bringing the tulwar down, severing both arms of the Hyrkanian raider. The invader screamed in pain, yet before Lei could finish the job, Kaisol bellowed in rage, thrusting the pitchfork into the Hyrkanian's chest.

The other three Hyrkanians dismounted, and charged, drawing steel as they spotted their fallen companion. Farmers charged, taking after Kaisol, using their equipment as makeshift weapons. Lei led the charge, swinging his tulwar in careful strokes, cutting down the first of the three. Kaisol charged into the second, tackling him to the ground. He straddled the raider, and wrapped his hands around the foreign man's neck. He applied pressure, and crushed his windpipe. The Hyrkanian struggled to scream, but all attempts ended with the snap of the neck.

The third was swiftly swarmed, and the raiding party was defeated.

I am in... no. You quiver and you quake at the sign of conflict, you hide and you shiver yet you struggle to control your living?! Curse you...

Kaisol felt his world come into view again, squinting, and opening his eyes wide at the mess before him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned spotting Lei.

"Son... you have done a good deed this day, helping fight the invaders. I am proud of you. Now go... rest. We will speak to wise man later."

Kaisol nodded... confused. He knew not of what his father spoke of... he saw the invaders... and then nothing. How could he have done anything? A chill rose up the young Khitan's spine as he made his way to the village, unsure and frightened. With no memory... he made his way home...

... perhaps the wise man could help.


~ ~ ~ ~

"They say he slew a score of Nemedians."

"No. He slew devil man. Reclaimed throne."

"No no, he married a princess of Nemedia."

"ENOUGH!"

Lei seethed with anger, his fist slammed against the table as he watched his family quiet down. Mei and Hui were silent, glancing at each other, then at their father. Lei crossed his arms, and snorted again. He watched his children stare off, as scolded dogs would be. When it seemed enough time had passed, he spoke.

"This discussion is forbidden. It matters not what the cheng-li do in their own homes. It matters not if one is a king. And that you would speak of that white devil... it is blasphemous," Lei said, his words dangerously calm.

Mei inclined her head, "I do not understand father?"

Lei frowned, "This king of knaves is no great hero. The stories may reach our ears, but curse his soul, he is a savage, no better then the Hyrkanians outside our Great Wall. But no matter. I brought you both together because we must discuss your brother."

Hui blinked, "Kaisol?"

"Aye... him. He remembers nothing. As if he were cursed. I spoke with Heng, the wise man, and he will meet with him in two days. Until then he is to rest. I do not want word of this reaching the rest of the village."

The others echanged worried looks. The door creaked, and both siblings as well as Lei turned. Kaisol entered, with a blank expression on his face. Confusion was the proper term. He moved to the table and sat, offering a bow to his father. Hui seemed to stare at his brother - a mixture of concern and impish curiosity. The latter more then the former no doubt. Lei snorted again.

"Stop staring at your brother, Hui."

Hui seemed to shrink back.

"Kaisol..." Lei said. "You must remain at rest. Your brother and sister will look after you while I go out of the village for awhile."

"Where do you go?" Kaisol asked.

"The townspeople," Lei explained. "With the recent attacks of the Hyrkanians and... other occurances, we need to discuss matters. The Emperor... I do not know what he has planned for us all, but what I do know, is that the barbarian king your siblings were speaking of... he is the cause for much of our luck as of late. Poor luck, the luck of knaves. He is the King of Knaves Kaisol... we must figure out how to turn it around."

With that, Lei left, off to speak with his people. He was not a man of any true status, though to his village, he was highly respected.

Yet in that hut, where Kaisol sat, he felt something stirring. He watched his siblings, and just like that, he zoned out, feeling overwhelmed once more. He would awaken in his own cot, feeling ill, and out of sorts... something was terribly wrong. He remembered nothing... felt nothing...

One day I will win control... one day...

~ ~ ~ ~

Centuries Ago...

"Praise Bori!"

"Praise Bori!"

"Praise Bori!"

The congregation all rose, hailing their god, expressing their devotion. Each that lined the area before the altar was tall, gaunt. Some were pale, others were dark. Each wore a loosely fitting loincloth, as the man before them, the High Priest of Bori, wore a thick cereomonial robe. Behind the congregation, several bloated Gurnahki Warriors guarded the exit, each wielding a wicked looking greataxe. Their beady eyes were affixed on the scene ahead - uncaring, cold. They were abominations, but submissive abominations.

"Know this, my kin! None of you is so mighty to escape Bori's Judgement in the afterlife! He will know if you have been strong, mighty... whether you have been faithful, and strong willed! Have you been a decent man..."

CRACK!

The congregation turned their heads as the doors smashed open. The Gurnahki moved to attack the figure that entered, yet before either could swing, each of the bloated figures' heads twisted, necks snapping, their bodies collapsing. The congregation seemed to gasp as the sight of the figure before them. He was tall, his skin white as the snow. Black paint of sorts adorned his face, covering his eyes, marking his arms, his chest, his legs. He wore a loincloth as the others, but wielding a longsword in one hand - and a dagger in the other.

"Fear not, dogs of Bori, this shall be swift! I have business with your priest!" The strange man called out.

"What madness is this? You dare tread on my territory with your sorcery?! You know better then that, Tholgrim Blackheart! The domain of Bori is to be respected!"

Tholgrim smiled grimly underneath the black paint adorning his face, "You know nothing of what you speak of Priest. The only reason your temple and your followers have not been burned down is because the White Hand has allowed you to live. Louhi demands your head, the times are changing, the Cult of Bori is at its end here!"

The congregation all moved, as if reaching for weapons. Tholgrim again smiled, this time, moving forward, though not a simple stride. It was as if time had been sped forward, his movement a quicksilver like speed. The priest found himself cornered against the altar, with Tholgrim hovering above.

"What is this," the priest of Bori gasped out.

Tholgrim inclined his head, "This... is the dawn of a new age. Louhi will have the head of your lot. Then..."

He turned and with the balling of his fist, it seemed as if the doors to the temple repaired themselves - and latched shut. He looked back at the priest, and brought his dagger to trace along the Bori-man's face.

"...then, I take the White Hand for my own."

The priest gasped, and began to yell, but Tholgrim's hand slipped to his throat, choking him, even as the dagger began to carve at his face. Blood was drawn, and the congregation of Hyperboreans only watched in horror as the priest's blood curdling scream echoed out, the start to a cacophony of suffering...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Present Time

"Wiseman Heng. It is good to see you."

Lei bowed before the older man, as did Kaisol. They each sat down on a bed of straw. The older man paced about, as if contemplating something, as if he recognized there was something truly wrong. The old man stood out among the three. While Lei looked less like a peasant, and more as a ranked official, with a groomed bear, and carefully braided hair, and Kaisol looked as a boy would, the old man sported a long beard at the chin, carefully braided all the way down. He wore a thin top knot, and dressed in a thick robe - not like what most wore. The hut carried a musky scent, and candles burned all around.

Heng smiled crookedly, "So. Kailsol. I am told you know nothing of yourself."

Kaisol glanced at his father, then to the old man, "This is truth. I awoke to nothing. I know nothing of myself but the names told to me when I asked."

Heng frowned, "This is a curiosity that I must consider. Not a day goes by that I see something I have seen before... but... this... this is most certainly new. What else?"

"Well..." Kaisol paused for a moment. "When the Hyrkanians came, I felt as if I lost myself, as if falling asleep. But I woke up standing with blood on my hands, and fallen horsemen before me."

Heng stopped to consider. "Hngh. A curiosity. Lei, I must tell you, your boy is troubled. I will need to see him alone in one tenday. Understood? In the meantime, Kaisol, I give you three choices. You must choose whether you wish to focus on recovering your memory, your own self, or your willpower. For it seems as if you lack all three. No memory, no identity of self... and your lack of willpower, being unable to choose an action such as fighting. Choose one. Then we continue next week."

Kaisol nodded, and soon after, he and his father were returning home... with an uncertain choice ahead.

~ ~ ~ ~

The jungles were dense, muggy, and foul. The boy followed the wise man deeper and deeper into the vine-choked swamps, arms at his sides, surrendering himself to the wise man. He wanted his identity, he wanted the truth. And so he was here, following Heng through the jungles leading to Paikang. Though they would not enter the great city, they would stay in the oppressive atmosphere. The moisture, the heat, it was thick. Horrid. Kaisol felt like he didn't belong, like he had never felt something so strange - yet at the same time, another part of him - it felt as if it were another aspect of home. Two wills, two minds.

And so they found the hut in the jungles. Heng's out of the way retreat was small, a simple mud hut built up to house one to two people. No doubt for ceremonies such as this. Kaisol glanced about uncertainly as he stepped inside, and fell into a sitting position, legs crossed. He watched as the older man did the same, after lighting several pots of incense.

"So, boy. I have asked you before. Do you want your willpower, your memory, or your own self? Choose wisely," the old man warned.

Kaisol shook his head, "I do not know which to choose. The previous night, I was told I drank, and took part in revelry... yet I do not remember. I want my willpower. I want my self. I want my memory. All of it."

Heng snorted, "Hnngh. Not possible to recover all at once. But perhaps... perhaps a little of each. Close your eyes boy. Allow yourself to relax. Allow yourself a chance to breathe... in... and out... in... and out. Now..."

Kaisol's vision was black as his eyes closed, and soon, the voice of Heng could not be heard. Vision stirred, a memory... snowy plains... men, dressed in furs and strange looking armor. Axes, swords, they yelled and hollered. One man lay dying. The others... they prepared to fight. Kaisol recoiled.

"No..."

Heng's voice slowly began to fade in, "...vision? Kaisol, answer me. What did you see?"

"It could not be," the boy muttered. "I have never seen such... barbarism in my life. Savages, attacking me."

"Hyrkanians?"

"No," Kaisol shook his head, "They looked... too pale. Hair that was black as night, armor mixed with fur, and weapons that looked crude."

Heng frowned, "Try again... try to recover yourself. Close your eyes...."

And this time, it was easy. His eyes closed, his hearing faded, and once again, his vision stirred.

A boy running in open fields, obeying his father, playing with his sister... Kaisol. Khitan. Farmer. A serene atmosphere...

Heng smiled at the calm expression on the boy's face... yet rose in alarm, as Kaisol's features then contorted....

Fire. Fire everywhere. The grass turned white with snow, the farm houses turned to burning thatched huts. Hundreds of strange bloated white beings wielding long spears and giant axes marched. Malevolent eyes stared back...

Kaisol's eyes opened. Was he... standing? He moved to sit, yet slipped in the darkness. He grunted, and put his hand next to the candlelight. His eyes widened in alarm. Blood soaked his arm. He glanced to his left... there, Heng laid in a pool of blood. A hole... in his chest.

Kaisol screamed.

~ ~ ~ ~

Kaisol screamed.

And then the world changed, it became bright. His head throbbed - on the sides, on the front, and on the back - his hands clutched his temple as the searing pain shot through him. He saw flashes. Something malevolent. The world was spinning about him, and everything became distant. Something dark was eating at him, chewing away at his very soul.

Fire. Blood. Death.

"Submit to me!"

The voice was real, it was laced with poison. He felt himself weaken... shake...

"Submit to me Kaisol!"

...then he convulsed. His body shook, and rippled, as he felt it consume him, take him over. Then another voice joined in.

"Begone from the boy's body demon! Begone demon! BEGONE!"

He felt his life slipping, he felt it all fading away - and then the light grew brighter and then he...

...he opened his eyes. Sprawled out, he felt the drool on his face, and Heng stood above him, arms crossed. The old wise man held a triumphant smirk on his weathered face as he leaned on his walking staff. Kaisol blinked several times.

"You.."

Heng shook his head, "You were possessed boy. Your mind... your identity... your willpower was all missing because something got into you. Something found you, and attached itself to you."

Kaisol frowned, "How? Who?"

"I do not know," Heng said. "Spirits of the deep and dark have not attacked our people as they have you since..."

"Since what?"

"Since the barbarian king slew Yag-Kosha. Since our true god was butchered by savage hands. And even then boy... even then those who were prone to such possession were cultists and lotus addicts. I know you to be a straight man. You do honest worth with your father. It will take much seeking to find the answers you seek."

Kaisol nodded and glanced about. He pulled himself up and wiped the drool from his mouth. He noted all the trinkets, the herbs, and the jars of strange liquids. Just then he felt a rumbling in his stomach. He swiftly ran out into the swamps and keeled over, as vomit escaped his mouth, his body shuddering violently.

"It may be awhile before you are ready to journey home, Kaisol," Heng said. "Such a trance you were in... your will was battling the demon that came with you. No easy task."

"I..." Kaisol frowned as he wiped the little bit of vomit away from his lips. "I still do not remember."

"That," Heng explained, "Is because you need to rest. A good night's rest, and you will be good for your memories."

Kaisol glanced at the wise man, "Then I go home. I can... handle getting ill on the way."

"If you are certain."

Kaisol pulled himself back up. "I am... thank you wise man. I owe you alot."

With a solemn bow, Kaisol made his way through the swamps, leaving Heng along with himself. The wise man frowned, and entered his hut. He sat down, and looked at the very place where the boy had sat. There lay a rune. A strange rune, that had appeared when the boy had gotten up. Heng frowned, and traced his fingers over it. Though the wise man knew much, he knew little of the outside world. Knew little about the west, and a western rune this was.

Crunch.

Heng glanced towards the entrance of his tent. Footsteps in the grass and swamps. Was it Kaisol? The old man frowned and noted an odd form moving towards the tiny hut. He clutched his walking staff and stepped outside.

Only to widen his eyes in horror. The form before him was tall. His skin was a deathly white, with black markings all along his body. He wore a simply Khitan tunic, and clutched a black dagger in one hand. Heng rose his staff to defend himself.

"You... demon!"

The strange being chuckled darkly, "No. God. I should thank you old man, for giving me access to this world once more."

"Who... who are you...."

"I am Tholgrim."

Without a single more uttered, the Hyperborean reached his hand back, and thrust the dagger forward, the blade piercing Heng's chest. The old man did not scream, he merely looked back at the foul being with hatred in his eyes.

"I..." he gasped. "I... freed... you.... to the deep night with you...."

The old man raised his left hand, balled in his fist, he let it loose, and herbs and dust rained about the Hyperborean. Tholgrim smirked wickedly, and pulled the dagger from the old man. He watched as Heng fell to his knees, with a bewildered look. The Black Heart tucked the dagger away and knelt down to stare at the old man.

"I am no demon, wise man," Tholgrim said. "I am a god king. A god king who should never have been trapped in some boy's body. And now that I am here. I will punish those involved. Every last one of you!"

Heng could not move, as he tried to clutch his wound, but Tholgrim would have nothing of it. He punched his hand forward - through the dagger wound, and into the old man's chest. He squeezed, and ripped his hand back, the old man's heart in his palm. Heng fell, dead. Tholgrim smiled grimly, but the sick joy was short lived.

His hands, began to fade, as if invisible. He frowned, the Hyperborean God King confused. He felt something tug at him, as a leash might to a dog. He growled angrily, and knew exactly what it was.

"The boy," he growled menacingly. "I am still attached to him. I have work to do it would seem."

The Hyperborean began to walk, knowing full well he would need to kill Kaisol. But then he - and his conscious thought - fell into darkness.

*******

Kaisol's eyes opened. Day cracked through the window in his hut. He sat up and ran fingers over his sleepy eyes. A frown formed.

He remembered everything - his past, his present.

And he remembered the Hyperborean murdering Heng.

~ ~ ~ ~

"How could this happen?!"

"What could do this?!"

"Who would do this?!"

"He angered the gods!"

"He dabbled in the dark sorceries!"

"The servants of darkness sent a message!"

They crowded about in the village, huddled, trying to deduce what had happened. What tragedy had befallen? What dark sign had come? Kaisol stepped outside, disoriented, confused. The dream, very real... too real. Yet now... a familiarity settled around him. He knew these people. His father. His sister. The various villagers that huddled about. Their exclamations were of horror. A dreadful feeling settled in the boy's gut as he stepped closer. Indeed, the horrors were realized. Heng's body, left on the ground, his eyes, pecked out by buzzards. Kaisol felt the warm vomit rising up into his mouth... he turned away.

"Kaisol?"

The boy fell to his knees, and let it out, vomiting on the ground beneath him. Shuddering with disgust. He felt both his father and his sister hover above him. He glanced over his shoulder...

"I... remember everything, father," his words came out, weakened, strained by the sight. "But... it seems to have come at a bad time."

Lei frowned, "I am sorry son. It is... an unfortunate event. He appeared out of nowhere just as dawn broke."

Kaisol screamed in his mind. He dreamed of the death, and indeed, had woken up at dawn. The odds were too real. He shook his head, waving his hand, he needed air. He needed...

"Kaisol?" Mei asked. "What is wrong with you?"

Kaisol stumbled against the village hut from whence he came from, he shook his head fervently, violently even. He couldn't tell the truth... he just couldn't. If he did....

I am a part of you now boy.

"Get away from me!" the boy screamed. "I am fine!"

"No, son, you aren't. Heng was helping you, and now he's gone."

"No, father, you don't seem to understand," Kaisol growled. "I remember... everything. His death. My slaying of the Hyrkanians. My past with the barbarians...."

"Barbarians?" both Lei and Mei echoed in unison.

"I remember a time when I was a god amongst men, worshiped, and feared," Kaisol rambled, "Yet I remember you and mother tutoring me on how to be a good son, on how to plow the fields, on how to wield a blade. I remember two lives, yet only one should belong to me. I remember EVERYTHING!"

Lei reached out, trying to grab Kaisol by the shirt, and yet the boy reacted swiftly, inhumanly, reaching out - punching his father in the chest, sending him backwards. The villagers turned, eyes widened. Kaisol stood there, his eyes fierce, filled with rage, with anger and hate. His fists were clenched - and blood dripped from them. The boy charged, and as soon as Lei rose to his feet, he felt the fists upon him again, drawing blood, cracking bone. Lei collapsed, and Kaisol straddled him, slamming fist after fist against his father's face, causing crack after crack. The villagers moved, trying to pull Kaisol, yet the boy... the boy was possessed.

Enraged.

"Demon, stop!"

Kaisol paused... something restraining him. His eyes looked down at his bleeding and bludgeoned father, who but breathed with shallow breaths. He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd of people. They dressed simply, and the air about them seemed serene. Kaisol rose slowly, and stepped forward. Compelled.

"I am Yow-Tahn. I am a priest. You will come with me to Chow, or you will die, resisting our aid."

Kaisol's bloody hands fell to his sides, "How... do you make me?"

"We know what is inside you," the priest replied. "We know you have something dark, controlling you. Eating at your soul. Come. We will go to Chow, and you will find aid."

"Who... are you a priest of?"

"We are the Children of Yag-Kosha, child. We are the children of the Elephant God."

~ ~ ~ ~

Lies. Deceit. This was not Chow. Kaisol regained consciousness... his vision blurry. He felt shackles on his arms, and yet the sound of a caravan underneath. Several figures sat across from him, the same serene looking men as before. Children of Yag-Kosha. The boy struggled at first, the rage inside him trying to tear its way out. His chest was sore, as if something already had. He felt himself slipping... and then he felt the new memory. He had been rendered asleep. His heart stopped but for a moment as panic gripped him, a new fear taking shape.

"No... no!"

"Calm yourself, Kaisol," the man who called himself Yow-Tahn replied, his voice soft... gentle. "There is no need to exert yourself, it will only make this harder."

"You do not understand!" the boy cried out. "You... took away the light. You made me sleep! Curse you!"

Yow-Tahn frowned. "You fear sleep?"

"No," Kaisol retorted. "I fear for your lives."

The movement stopped. The boy looked around, as did Yow-Tahn. Alarm continued to grip Kaisol, as silence lifted - and the sounds of bloodshed filled the air. Swords, shouting... screaming...

"The Wolves, the wolves!" Someone shouted.

"For Bhangi Kahn!"

"Stay back you heathens!"

The shouting continued, the sound of steel against flesh, fresh cries of misery, of pain, and death filled the air. Yow-Tahn glanced around, and pulled forth a dagger, in preparation to defend himself. Kaisol felt himself drowning in panic... and he felt the blackness consume him...

Tholgrim stood before the raided caravan. A smile played at the Hyperborean's lips. The bandits that called themselves the Wolves of the Steppes slaughtered the pilgrims without mercy. Had the sorcerer had complete control, he would no doubt have enlisted their services. No... he had better plans, far superior plans. He tore open the front of the caravan, and pushed himself inside. He saw the boy. And he saw the last pilgrim. Yow-Tahn thrusted the blade forward, but Tholgrim swiftly caught his wrist, snapping it. Tholgrim smiled grimly, and thrusted his own dagger foward, cutting the throat of the pilgrim. He grabbed the boy, Kaisol, and stepped down from the caravan.

There, the Wolves waited. Two came at him, each wielding a spiked mace. The Hyperborean reached out with one hand, and both paused in their tracks. The bandits yelled out at their stunned comrades only to rush in. Tholgrim continued to smile, as the two mesmerized bandits spun around... and cut down their comrades. The Witchman stepped forward, one thrust piercing a bandit's heart, and the second, ending the life of the other one.

All of the bandits were gone, as dead as the pilgrims they slew. Tholgrim laughed. His plan was coming to fruition.

"Now, dear Kaisol..." he spoke, tone absent. "I will find a way to free myself from you. I know of one place, and you will know it too."

Tholgrim stepped forward, and began his walk north... pass the grassy fields, and the camps of bandits and wildlife. He would find the most corrupted land of Khitai, there he would unleash his dark ritual.

The crater of Kara Korum awaited.

~ ~ ~ ~

There it stood. An abomination, a blight. The black sands, and in the middle, in the center of it all... the crater. Tholgrim carried the boy, with a slow step. He had to make haste, and yet moving too fast would be his end. He was not immortal, not truly. Not yet. Not while bound to the boy... while he himself could not be destroyed by any blade, the boy could. If the boy died, Tholgrim knew he would be bound to any random man or woman. His soul would be in chaos once more, and once more, he would have to claw his way into another's heart, and out again. He would not risk it. Not now. Not this time. And if the gods truly disfavored the Witchman... if something could consume the boy's very soul, he was gone as well...

The thoughts made the Witchman shudder. Few things could. As blackened feet stepped across the corrupted sands, he felt the thick air. He felt the evil. Were he as he was at birth, he might have felt it, might have become weakened by it. He was no mere mortal, no mere man. He had felt worse... embraced... far worse. He was a Hyperborean, and this was his destiny. He would go to the Crater. He would become whole.

But first he would need to deal with his present problem. He smelled it... felt it... the padding of feet. The howling. The barking. He turned, and there they were. The bandits. The Wolves. They pursued him, as surely as he knew they would. He slew their men. Now, he would have to slay more.

Tholgrim reached for his dagger, but had little time to react, as a large wolf lunged for him. The Hyperborean swiftly, though carelessly dropped the boy down, as he slashed his dagger upward, cutting the throat of the wolf as it lunged over him. The Witchman growled, and threw the dagger, burying it into the chestplate of one of the bandits... indeed, a deep wound, for the dagger was no longer visible, and the bandit fell dead.

Tholgrim walked, menacingly towards his foes, but stopped in his tracks. He felt the pull... the call... he glanced at the boy, and saw him flutter his eyes open. Barely. Just enough.

Tholgrim felt the void, and soon, no bandits, no corrupt sand, it was all gone. He was in that black oblivion once more, and the boy, his vessel, was at the mercy of the Wolves of the Steppes. Surely they would show none.