Corruption Nein

Rolling back to his feet, Steve twisted his head to look at his back as best he could. His face contorting in dismay, Steve squealed in outrage. “My poor coat!”
“Can't you just fix it?” Hides demanded after the sound of his palm smacking his forehead died away.
“You make it sound so easy! Like nobody grows attached to their clothing! As if nobody carries around a squirrel in their pockets, and are forced to clean up after them when the poor rodents have moved away! As if nobody carries apple pies with them and smashes them against their body when somebody else bumps them! As if...” Steve continued his indignant tirade as the others drew their attention to the enemy presenting itself to them now.
As Blade watched, however, he was perplexed by a curious emotion: amusement. She looked at Steve and his outbursts, and she giggled. Narrowing his eyes, Blade dared lower his scythe.
“Are you alright?” He whispered.
It was barely a breath, and no other human would ever have heard it.
But this creature did.
Her head snapped in his direction, and her murderous glare forced him to lift his weapon yet again. Both her arms became scythe-like protrusions, her hands becoming the curving blades. She began to walk slowly forward, a threatening stance in every step toward Blade.
Blade did not wait for the black creature to make its first move. He swung downward, aiming to slice her from shoulder to opposite hip. His scythe bit into nothing, however, as the creature simply disappeared.
“Wha...” His half-question was answered when the same creature kicked him in the back and sent him sprawling. Quickly rolling onto his back, he looked this monster in the face. She advanced just as slowly as before, just as menacingly.
Suddenly, the dark assailant was engulfed by a cone of flames, thick enough to completely obscure her from sight. Following the cone, Blade saw Fakyr as the source, the inferno erupting from his open palms toward their enemy. When the flames dissipated, that enemy still remained, seemingly untouched. Her head was turned toward Fakyr.
Blade saw Fakyr act quickly, his lips moving too rapidly to register, and his fingers contorting similarly. Just as suddenly as the flames before, a cone of electricity burst from his palms, again engulfing the black creature. This time, though Blade could see her, and she began to simply wade through the magical barrage toward Fakyr.
With the lightning gone, Fakyr conjured a cone of cold winds that all around could feel, especially in contrast to the desert heat around them. Now, she was close enough to strike at him. The scythes whirling in perfect unison, not even Blade could hope to get close enough to help Fakyr. Somehow, whenever Blade tried to strike at their assailant, its own weapons moved in the way to block, despite the creature's full attention being on Fakyr.
At a loss, he feared for his friends, his previous beliefs of having led them to their deaths returning tenfold. It truly seemed that this single opponent would best them all.
Let me face her.
The voice seemed to come from everywhere, but when Blade looked around at his allies, it seemed none of the others heard it. He searched around for the source, but found no other individuals, let alone one that fit the whispering, hissing voice he had heard.
Release me!
The voice came again, and again Blade could not fathom where it could have come from. Unless...
Allow me to face her, or you'll all die!
Blade began to piece together who had said these words; it seemed that the entity that Tyrassa had freed wanted out. Fearing that the others would become dangerously distracted, he gambled that this entity could hear his thoughts.
What will happen if I do?
It doesn't matter! You'll live, will that suffice?
Why can you speak to me, and that feral beast can't?
He has no mind to form speech. What does it matter? If you die, I die! Let me out!
How?
Oh, for Gods' sake! Let me make it easy for you.
Blade felt an immense pain in his head and immediately gripped it as if keeping it from exploding. He registered nothing of his scream, or his drop to his knees and the sound of his scythe hitting the rusted metal.
And then Blade registered nothing. Nothing at all. Now lost in his memories, Blade had no control, and no longer retained his conscious thought of the material world.
Still locked in battle with the dark creature Fakyr was able to dodge many attacks. He had taken several minor hits, but few had even gotten through his scales. He tried to punch back, but whenever he did, he hit nothing but air as the black creature suddenly evaporated, and then solidified as quickly as it had become insubstantial.
Until she screamed in pain as the thing Blade now was sent a psionic blast at her.
With a clear shot, Fakyr's next blow sent her sailing. So perfectly vulnerable, prone upon the rusted metal, that Blade approached, his scythe in hand. Imperceptible to Blade himself, even if he were in control, but clear to all else were the wisps of dust that were kicked up at Blade's passing. It was similar to the disembodied wind that Steve often had following him, although this aura about Blade was more confined and controlled. It wasn't as wild or as random as that which Steve possessed.
He lifted his weapon and began a swing downward at the seemingly unconscious enemy. However, she had another card to play, and a virtual explosion of blackness threw Blade away and knocked the others to the floor. When Blade looked up, he saw that the explosion was not an explosion at all, but a transformation. Now, rather than the small woman made of darkness, there loomed a massive creature, black and imposing. Its four legs ended in claws which had no definition or variations of color. The surface of the creature was rough so as to resemble large scales. Its head was horned, with massive teeth jutting from within its maw at what looked to be painful angles, and atop its back were sleek, powerful wings, each large enough to encompass the entire platform upon which it stood. A long tail twitched behind it as it gazed, enraged, upon Blade.
A dragon growled down at him.
One stone pillar of a leg lifted from the ground and moved to crush Blade, but it struck nothing. Blade stood some distance away, this psionic alter ego having used its abilities to bend space to form a doorway through which it escaped. The dragon roared, taking a menacing step forward. Blade swung his scythe an uppercut, sending a psychic blast through it and at the creature. When it struck, the force of the blast stunned the creature, but lacked the effectiveness of the same blast that had hit it in its previous form.
It seemed, much like the bestial entity within Blade, that this creature's mind had also been lost. The creature began a charge aimed at Blade, as he had seemed to become its primary focus. Blade placed his weapon defensively before him, although he could not hope to stop the monster's rampage. He bunched his legs, despite the fact that he could never deign to think that he could leap entirely over the creature.
As the dragon drew near, it again swiped at Blade. Seeming to anticipate this, Blade's scythe took the brunt of the blow, allowing Blade to safely twist with the force of the blow, and leap. In the air, he successfully cleared the dragon's head, and, twisting and rolling in the air, slammed the blade of his scythe into the dragon's neck, near to the base of the skull.
The beast's charge threw it well over the edge of the cylinder's top, and it extended its wings, roaring in agony and rage. On its first flap, it bounced off of the bridge from which the companions had come, destroying it entirely and sending it into the churning sands below.
Struggling to maintain his grip, Blade nearly lost it when the psionic persona receded, forcing the proper owner of the body back out. Nearly panicking immediately after seeing this odd scene, he quickly realized that keeping hold of his scythe, firmly embedded into what would be the dragon's spinal column if it were a true dragon, would be the only thing keeping him alive.
The dragon thrashed in the air, sometimes stopping abruptly in mid-flight and hovering for a moment, trying to get at Blade. He had no idea why it didn't simply change its shape again to throw him away. After developing a bit of a rhythm, his task seemed easier, and he had time to do little else but think. Was this merely an unchained form, and it could not be altered? Or maybe the creature was fatigued at this monumental a change, and could do little else?
His thoughts ended abruptly as his scythe began to come free. One last thrash, and the blade slid from the black neck, and Blade began to plummet straight down, with nothing to catch him.
“Blade!” Frost screamed from the central cylinder's top. Again, Steve acted to the advantage of all involved.
Before Blade could gain too much momentum to be safely stopped, he landed hard on a surface he could not see. At least, he couldn't see until he looked at his feet when he rose. Hovering several hundred feet in the air, wherever he stepped a black aura appeared beneath his feet. Steve was placing dark platforms wherever he placed his boots.
Blade promised to thank that one later.
While Blade had retained hold on his scythe, he was battered and bruised from the flight and the fall. The scales on the dragon's neck had cut and scratched him in many places, and while they were superficial wounds, they began to add up with the rather large head ache and the numerous bruises that came when he landed. He didn't know how much longer he could continue the fight.
“Steve, can you do that for all of us?” Hides asked Steve, deep in concentration.
“Nope, or you'd all fall.” Steve replied shaking his head and grimacing with the strain. First there was the act of predicting where Blade was to be next. Then, there was the task of stopping him from falling. It was taxing to say the least, and he hoped Blade would find a safe place to go or end the fight soon.
Blade looked around and couldn't find the dragon. Where had it gone? Still, the feeling of being so high with so little in between him and the sands below was more than a little uncomfortable. Still examining his surroundings, Blade spotted the nearest cylinder, a lone platform long ago cut off from the rest of the complex.
Blade began a jog toward that platform, and was strangely entirely free of opposition the entire way. Leaping upon the platform, Blade again looked around, and Steve breathed easier. The others, however, did not, especially when they saw the dragon flying low to the sands, below Blade's line of sight, swiftly blazing a way toward the hapless man.
Blade was almost panicking in his attempt to spot the dragon, and was unsure if he was relieved or even more afraid when the creature gave a great flap of its wings and shot straight into the sky to land on the opposite side of the cylinder. This platform was much smaller than the central platform, and gave Blade much less room to maneuver.
“Come, now,” Blade began in a last ditch attempt to preserve his own life, as he believed that to fight this monster was to forfeit it. “Surely we can work this out.”
In response, the black creature merely screeched at him in rage.
“I thought not.” Blade said, his shoulders slumping. He brought his weapon to bear, though he had not an idea how he would go about the first blows. The dragon swiped at him with a powerful foreleg, and he rolled beneath it. It snapped at him with its jaw, and Blade leaped, somersaulting and slamming the end of his scythe's shaft into its snout. Immediately, the dragon snapped up its head, sending Blade into an aerial cartwheel that landed him on his backside.
The dragon lifted its foreleg, meaning to crush Blade outright, and as it came down, Blade leaped forward, diving and coming up beneath the great beast's belly. He looked back to where the claws of the foreleg had landed, and was inspired by what he saw.
The leg had broken through the surface of the cylinder. Blade smiled as an idea came to focus within his mind. He slammed the but of his scythe against the underside of the dragon, and quickly ran out into the open, far enough so that the dragon leaped up and pounced. Blade again rolled out of danger, and was satisfied to hear the crunch of metal. He looked back, and saw that the dragon had again punched a fair-sized hole into the surface of the cylinder.
Blade continued this, hoping to make a pattern that encompassed half the cylinder, and then made his way into the middle of his pattern. He stared intently at the dragon, hoping his idea would work and that he could get out of harm's way in time for it to come to fruition. The dragon leaped at him from the edge of the platform, and Blade again dodged, this time coming up in a run toward the intact parts of the cylinder's top and turned back to watch the dragon.
It had punched one final hole in the rusted metal, and Blade saw it give a lurch similar to that which preceded the fall of the first bridge they had crossed. As it turned back to Blade, it bunched to leap, but the pattern that it had carved chasing down Blade weakened the cylinder in a specific path. The entire half of the cylinder the dragon was standing on gave way, and as it leaped, its base fell away. Off balance and in a confined space too small to spread its wings, the dragon fell into the cylinder's interior.
Blade came to the edge of his handiwork, and looked in. The dragon was thrashing in a pit of thick, black sludge that had a colorful sheen to it, but smelled rather distinctive, unpleasant to Blade. The dragon screeched repeatedly, struggling to stay afloat, and Blade almost smiled at his victory.
However, pity and remorse tempered that smile. The kill should have been clean, he knew, not this. Not torture. This would turn into a living death before the creature's soul left it entirely. Blade even felt regret at killing it. He had seen something promising when the creature had laughed at Steve. No, not laughed; giggled. The creature had giggled at Steve's absurdity, and Blade saw humanity in that.
The dragon, in one last act of defiance, lurched upward, likely kicking off from the bottom of the chamber, and grabbed onto the edge of the broken cylinder opposite Blade's. Blade was again filled with fear and anxiety at seeing the creature spread its wings again, dripping with the thick liquid. It leaped into the sky and began soaring toward Blade's friends, and truly he was filled with dread.
Ignite it.
Blade heard that voice again, but this time did not question it. He looked at the dragon, and thought that perhaps that liquid was flammable. With no way for him to light it, he looked to his friends, and shouted to Fakyr with all the might of his lungs. The dragon began a dive straight at his friends like an arrow of blackness. The Dracos looked to Blade at his call, and with no time to explain, he merely pointed to the dragon frantically, rapidly approaching.
Fakyr likely couldn't know what Blade truly wanted him to do, but by sheer chance, he enacted a spell of flame. The fire gathered in the palm of his hand, and he tossed it like a ball at the dragon. The creature screeched once before the fireball hit it in the head between the eyes and exploded.
None there could have anticipated the fireball to have spread across the entire dragon. Immediately, it was engulfed in a conflagration that would make Hell itself proud. It changed its momentum almost too fast to follow, and merely thrashed in the air, having enough sense not to try to land in the Sea of Moving Sands.
Merely screeching in agony, the dragon twisted in the air, almost directly above the companions. Blade had to watch in horror as burning pitch and chunks of the dragon of darkness fell upon his friends. He was quickly comforted, though, at Cloack's sudden enactment of a shield spell. A dome of energy extended above them like a grand umbrella, stopping the flames from coming anywhere near to them.
The companions threw up a cheer as the latest opponent had been felled. Until Steve shouted, “Wait!”
All eyes upon the man, he simply gazed up at the dragon, with an expression of worry on his face. “I feel a mind up there!”
“What?” Hides asked.
“There's someone inside!” Steve hissed.
“So?” The orphan retorted, his posture reflecting his lack of concern.
Steve did not wait to explain, instead reaching above his head as if grasping at the dying dragon. The thrashing stopped, but the screeches continued. Ripping his arms apart and to his sides, Steve watched in satisfaction as the blackness of the dragon parted, rent apart by Steve's shadomancy. As Steve guessed, a form, the size of a human, fell from where the dragon had been, the burning halves of that creature falling into the churning sands.
“Catch her!” Steve ordered, as he quickly discerned it was a woman falling rapidly toward the ground. When nobody moved to comply, Steve saw why: she was too far for any of them to make it to her. Steve shouted in frustration, and sprinted for the edge of the platform. For a moment, Frost believed Steve had lost his mind, but then she remembered her doubts toward Steve ever possessing one, and relaxed, thinking to watch this one play out.
Steve ran to the edge and beyond, using the same technique as he had keeping Blade from falling to his doom, running out upon the dark platforms he created. One final dive and Steve stopped the woman's descent, breaking her fall, but with him landing hard on his back. Bruised, but not beaten, Steve rose from his prone position and lifted the woman with him.
Blade saw all of this from his vantage point, and wanted sorely to see what was happening. When Steve got back to the others, Blade signaled him and stepped off the platform, being sure to have Steve watching him all the while. When Blade arrived, the others hovered around the strange woman. Now that he could get a good look at her, Blade wondered what her story was, how she had gotten that far, and how she had gotten engulfed in shadow.
Her face was pale and gaunt, skin malnourished and her hair ratty and dirty. Her clothes were plain, gray, and tattered, and hung loose on her frame, small and fragile. Her fingernails were almost decaying as they sat upon her hands, but oddly enough, her hands were delicate and clean. Despite the yellowing and clear mistreating of her nails, her hands were well kept, and seemed healthier than the rest.
“Who is she?” Blade asked.
“I caught her!” Steve happily announced, bouncing with each syllable.
After Hides brought his hand away from smacking his forehead, he answered, “We don't know. She's been unconscious since Steve caught her.”
“Can we bring her with us?” Steve asked anxiously.
“Well we're not just gonna leave her behind, are we?” Frost interjected. “I intend to find out why she tried to kill us in the first place.”
“Maybe she didn't try.” Steve ominously put in.
“What did you just say?” Frost hissed, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“That creature... her style... her abilities...” Steve began slowly, almost confused. “It was shadowmancy.”
“It was your magic?” Frost asked, her hand moving to the hilt of her blade.
“Steve,” Blade interjected. “Is there anyone else who knows this magic of yours?”
Steve turned toward him, an almost plaintive look in his eyes. “There is only one other that knows shadowmancy.” Almost immediately after Steve said this, an image flashed across Blade's mind, that of Edge in one of his dreams confronting the master. Steve didn't say his name, nor did Blade need him to. Edge seemed to be behind this as well. Why was he so hellbent on stopping Blade?
“One more question, Steve.” Steve turned his full attention on Blade, but he knew that the attention wouldn't last long, knowing Steve. “How can your magic do something like this? So far away from the caster, I mean.”
Steve lifted his hands to almost claw at his forehead, so heated was the thought going on in the tormented man's head. As quickly as he started, though, he stopped and assumed a calm visage. “If I so willed it, my shadow companion could develop a mind of its own.”
“Don't you already do that?” Hides asked.
“Not so.” Steve replied. “I manipulate it to make it seem so. In all other respects, it is simply another shadow. If I wanted it to, though, it could be more. It could carry out the will that it develops, or, if I so chose, the will of myself.”
“You've got your own minion following you around.” Fakyr finished.
“I've a potential minion following me around. This shadowmancy is the creation of a powerful creature, though, the likes of which no natural phenomenon could ever create. It is amorphous, near indestructible, and has the skills and willpower of its creator.”
“Yet we destroyed that dragon thing.” Hides interrupted again.
“True, and I did say near. You remember how ineffectual our attacks were against the creature in both forms it took. Only a gripping flame or a light of intensity beyond that of the sun can truly harm or make vulnerable shadow creatures.”
“What about a mental blast?” Blade asked, an image of the creature gripping its head in agony flashing across his mind. He was beginning to accept these visions, and even welcomed their arrival, though he still wondered where they came from.
“The only reason that worked was because there was a living creature within the shadows.” Steve replied.
“Why would there need to be a person in all that?” Cloack put in. “I know of no other magic that requires that in a minion.”
“The formation of a shadow minion with no basis is so difficult not even I could easily pull it off. It would require many days of intense grappling with the physics of reality, and I doubt even the other shadowmancer has this ability. No, there must be a base, a foundation to attach to. Otherwise, the shadows fall back to where they were, and the spell ends.”
“Back to where they were?” Fakyr asked.
“Shadowmancy is the manipulation, not the creation of shadows. Wherever you get the shadows will perpetually want those shadows back, as is the world wont to do. This means that should I ever give my shadow a will, he will be forced to eternally avoid my presence, because the closer it gets, the more powerful the pull. If he ever met me again, he would be absorbed back into the world, back to where he was taken from. It also means that when we destroyed the shadows engulfing this woman here, those shadows returned to where they came from.”
“Edge's home.” Blade concluded.
“Yes.” Steve hissed.
Blade folded his arms, his back growing warm under the sun's heat. He thought upon his latest dream, no doubt the origin of this woman's current predicament. He admitted now that he recognized her from that dream, from when Edge had grabbed her beneath the jaw. He had been within Edge's mind, even felt his fingers grasp the woman's jaw, her quickened heart rate under her skin. Edge had a sister, or so his dream suggested. And this sister was leverage that the master used against him.
But were they true visions? If he felt such a connection with Edge, would he not be able to manipulate that to show Blade what Edge wanted him to see? He couldn't afford to simply jump headlong into the mess that was apparently once his life.
And now this. The woman from his dream in the flesh in front of him, unconscious because of what was apparently an ability of Edge. He admitted that this definitely gave credence to the dreams, but Blade still couldn't be certain.
“How will we move her?” Blade asked.
“I will handle transportation.” Fakyr offered.
“Not yet!” Steve screamed.
Moving his hands away from his ears, Blade looked to Steve at his side. “Why not?”
“The shadows are still inside.” Steve hissed.
“They're still in her?” Blade prompted.
Steve nodded excitedly. “They will remain and hurt her until they are taken out.”
“How do we take them out?” Blade asked.
“Leave that to me!”
“How long will it take?”
“Not long, I hope.”
“You hope?”
“I won't know until I start.” Steve indignantly replied, sounding much like an insulted child than any expert of anything, contrasting sharply with his previously serious and dark mood.
“Then give it a go.” Blade demanded.
Steve moved over to the unconscious woman and knelt over her, moving his open hand over her mouth. The other hand he placed on her shoulder. He tensed and braced her against the metal, pushing her down as if expecting resistance. His face a mask of utmost concentration, he moved his hand away slowly, and the woman began to rise. More specifically, her torso started to rise, but Steve's hand on her shoulder kept her down.
As his open palm moved further away from the woman, she seemed to resist him yet more, even though she was clearly unconscious. Soon, though, a black mist started slowly emerging from her mouth, a black stain upon her pail countenance.
Steve stayed like that for some time, moving his hand only a small distance further. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his breathing became labored, and before too much time passed, he lowered his hand back down, and the mist returned to within the woman, and her form returned to a peaceful slumber upon the cylinder's top.
“What was that?” Hides asked, breaking the long silence.
“The shadow doesn't want out.” Steve said. He looked sorrowfully around at the companions.
“Does that mean...” Blade began. “She's lost?” He looked around at his friends and allies. “Is there nothing you can do?” He asked, looking back to Steve.
“There is something I can do.” Steve began reluctantly.
“What is it?” Hides prompted.
“Shadowmancy draws power from the darker aspects of the human psyche.” Steve explained. “Just as pyromancy draws upon a man's fiery nature, and the magic of ice draws upon a person's cunning and quickness of tongue. Shadowmancy is empowered by rage, jealousy,” Steve paused a moment. “And lust.”
“Lust?”
“I have no anger toward this woman,” Steve began. “And I am jealous of nothing she has, for she clearly has nothing.” He looked down at her face, almost regretfully. “It's the only way I can help her.”
Blade didn't know exactly what Steve was going to do, but he got the idea, he assumed. “She will likely thank you for it later.”
Steve looked at him, and wordlessly nodded his agreement. Steve looked slowly back to the woman and paused for a long moment. Slowly, he began to lean closer to the woman's face. Just above her lips, Steve paused. He gave one last look to Blade, one last nervous look. Then he turned back to the woman, and pressed his lips against hers.
Blade was fascinated by this turn of events, but was surprised when Steve began to pull away. The black mist again began to stretch out of the woman's mouth, and she again began to rise as if being pulled, but not quite as much as before. The further Steve drew back, the more blackness emerged, trailing after his kiss.
Now as far back as he could go, Steve looked up and exhaled, causing the mists to fly up, and clear of the woman's lips. For a brief instant, the blackness took a shape similar to the dragon they had just defeated. Immediately, they all crouched, their hands going to their weapons or beginning spells, until the mists dissipated on the winds and were no more.
Steve looked down again at the unconscious woman, as did the rest of the companions. For the moment, all was still. Nothing happened. Only the sound of the desert wind greeted the friends until the woman coughed once and inhaled sharply, as if bursting from beneath water after being held under.
Her eyes shot open, and they were just as out of place as her hands. They were a sparkling blue, deep and piercing, vibrant and full of life, and in this moment, fear. She skittered away from Steve as if he was a nightmare made real.
“Wait!” Blade shouted emphatically, worried that they might lose this woman here and now. If she skittered over the edge...
She stopped her scurry and looked to Blade. For a moment, her visage calmed, but then she looked around at the rest of them. Again fear gripped her, but she no longer tried to crawl away. The first beside her was Frost, kneeling and looking into her eyes concernedly. “Are you alright?” She asked.
The woman merely stared blankly at Frost as if she didn't understand. “Can you speak?” Blade asked. She looked back to Blade and opened her mouth as if to say something, but hesitated a great deal, as if she was not used to speech.
“I...” She started. The whole group leaned in, almost as if they were reading a suspenseful book and the climax was approaching. “Wh-what... happened?” She asked, her voice hoarse, but oddly melodious. Yet another oddity about this haggard woman.
“That is a question I believe we should be asking you.” Fakyr declared.
“No, not yet.” Frost began, turning a sharp eye on Fakyr. She then turned back to the woman and placed her hands on those wiry shoulders, causing the woman to look back at her. “That's good, you're talking. Can you tell us your name?”
“My name?” The woman hesitated. She thought hard, as if she had never been asked that question. “I... don't have one.”
Frost sighed and looked back to Blade. “Seems to happen a lot lately, doesn't it?”
Blade chortled a bit. “Indeed. Shall we offer you a name, then?”
The woman looked to Frost, and then Blade, and finally Steve. “You won't hurt me?”
Frost placed her hand on the woman's jaw, forcing her to look back at the orphan. “Why would we hurt you?”
“I don't know...” She began, tearing up, her voice chocking. “I just know that people hurt me. With clubs and whips and fists, they hurt me. And my friend, she...” She stopped for a moment, sniffling as tears streaked down her cheeks. “She got eaten.”
That statement hit Blade poignantly. Could this woman have known that servant girl from his first dream? The one who the master had devoured? The pieces began to fall in place quite well, and he wondered if Edge even knew that Blade dreamed of him.
“By the master.” Steve whispered.
The woman turned a fearful eye on him. “You're the one that the bad man talks to!”
“Is the bad man's name Edge?” Blade asked, again drawing the woman's attention before she was bent too far. To the question, the woman nodded.
“That is what the others call him. So I call him the same. He has a long coat, a big sword on his back, and two small ones on his hips.”
“That's Edge, Blade.” Steve said ominously.
“But...” The woman began, again looking at Steve. “I also remember you from earlier.” The companions listened intently, curious to hear the woman's story. “When I entered Edge's room to bring him his food, he grabbed me. He choked me. He hurt me again.” She lifted a delicate hand to touch her neck just below her jawline where red marks still remained.
“But this time was different!” She continued. “This time, he made shadows crawl on me, all over me, in my mouth, up my nose. I felt them crawl around inside me. I just remember the shadows. But then I heard and saw you,” The woman pointed to Steve. “I thought you were funny.”
Steve perked up with an almost foolish grin on his face. “You thought I was funny?” He squeaked, and his pitch was far higher than Blade had ever thought Steve was capable of.
“And then, I was falling. And then I was here. What happened?”
Blade unfolded his arms, digesting the information that he had just gotten. Then he walked over and knelt beside Frost to look the woman in the eye. He described the conflict, and the resolution with the shadow creature the woman had become. He then described how Steve had freed her from a living hell within the dying dragon-like shadow, and how he saved her from the Sea of Moving Sands.
“You...” The woman whispered, looking to Steve again. “You saved me? I thought you were the bad man's favorite.”
“He let me out. I was supposed to kill him.” Steve pointed to Blade.
“But you failed!” The woman whispered harshly. “He will kill you!”
“No,” Steve started, smiling confidently. “Edge can't stand up to me and Blade at once.”
The woman looked to Steve, and then Blade, new hope in her deep blue eyes. “Then you're really strong.” She stated more than asked. Blade merely nodded.
“But are you done thanking Steve?” He asked.
Steve stood uncomfortably. Blade knew that Steve no doubt wondered why he hadn't mentioned that kissing incident to the woman. However, that thought vanished when the woman leaped from Frost's grasp, and darted past Blade faster than he could react. She bolted for Steve, and before he could do anything to stop her, she barreled into him.
Steve stood dumbfounded, the woman's arms wrapped about him, her head on his shoulder. “Please protect me from the bad man.” She pleaded.
Steve looked to Blade and Frost, but they, like the rest of the group, merely looked on in amusement. He looked to the woman hugging him, and his surprise ebbed. His expression softened, and his arms wrapped about her slim waist. “I will protect you.” Was all he said, and it seemed all he needed to as the woman began sobbing tears of joy into his shoulder.