The Ghoul's decision.

[channe]

Here she goes again, tramping out into the forest like she'd done as a girl to feint against trees with her mother's kitchen knife -- only now, she was older than she'd ever thought she'd be, pushing thirty, scarred, a veteran of a war that never happened.

It had been a mistake to return to Myrken Wood for assistance, she thought, pushing onward despite a light, late-summer drizzle. Over the past few years she'd remembered it in a rosy light, remembered friends at the Dagger and forgotten the realities of what had actually occurred. Unable to visit her family because of her father's fragile health -- enough, she thought, and we'll be done with it. Constantine doesn't even know me, and the bastard Burel lives yet to hold Thessilane.

The visit back to Razasan had been -- interesting, to say the least. Chedwry heard her story with some trepidation, and his younger son Anselm behind him with glittering, ravenous eyes; he set the sorcerers to it and sent her back to Myrken with instructions. She'd given one last chance to Rhaena and Burnie, to a Cinnabar that didn't even come down to see her, an Ariane who could care less -- and realized all of their true intentions; she had been meant for Razasan from the beginning, Agnie thinks. Even here, even as Captain of the Militia, it was just a move to contain her, the embarrassing younger farmer's child, the trouble-maker, even as she had risen to ranks in Trae Kelsa higher than anyone in Myrken Wood could imagine.

She felt anger as she did when she was younger against all of them, there in the clearing by the brook.

If this works, my lord Chedwry will live, she thought, setting up the experiment -- her rings taken off her fingers and set about her in a pattern, the minerals and knives from her belt set up next to the blood and bones of a girl she knew all too well, ten years in the past. She cuts her own arm with one of the knives, making sure the edge is covered in her own blood. if this works, the war may yet be averted. And, with some pain -- Everyone I know is dead, anyway. I'm out of time.

As her last move on Earth, Agnieszka Kostroma, legate of His Majesty's Own, writes a letter and sets it under a rock.

It's almost a shame, thinks Agnieszka. Nobody gets to see that I can do necromancy.

And with that, she is gone in a flash of light and fire.

[Vanidor]

So many failures in life.

So many wrong decisions.

He had been trained by the best. Was tutored by some of the brightest. The only thing he had truly gotten out of it was skill with a blade and making things worse. He did not blame certain parties for cutting him loose into the world at large. He had been given his pension in full, a nice new sword to lay at his hip, some clothes, and been shown the door.

Many bad decisions. Perhaps. Perhaps if he had had more confidence in himself he would not have allowed a lie to turn into something huge. To make him break away from the one thing that, honestly, was keeping his sanity in check. A lot of it had been bluster. As much armour to protect his fragile self as his plate was to shield his flesh.

He was not made of the same material as Kerrak. Even if that one had fallen as well, his was mystical. A failing of the very nature of what he wanted to use. Aeryn's own fall was of his own making. He understood that now. Perhaps that was why he had decided to follow the woman that had once been the girl he loved. Was that an honest thought? Loved or lusted after. In either case the response had been the same at the core. He really had cared for her. The lie of it was that he wasn't prepared to accept it himself.

But now. He had been silent amoungst the brush, using some of the skill drilled into him by numerous others to remain hidden. This Agnieszka was not like the one that he knew. Oh, she was. She had the same cant to the head and burning gaze that had drawn him to begin with. But there had been other oddities. She knew more things than he did, that was obvious. Had experienced more in her estranged timeline than he had thus far. Orvere had been bad. But her stories of things... were worse.

Eyes watched for another moment, licking lips as that knife was drawn out and the blade dug into her forearm. Eyes narrowed at this, contemplating what this could mean. Especially as she placed something beneath a rock and seemed to...

There is a flash. A bleat of fire and Aeryn is suddenly on his backside looking at the space the woman had just been. A breath taken that was harsh and somewhat frightened, but he collected himself quickly enough. Then up on his feet and into the clearing. He looked left and right, was that a small smear of blood upon the wet grass? How had she... No. Perhaps it was best not to ask. He wasn't sure he could handle it anyway.

But here. Here was the rock. Aeryn looked down at it and started to kneel. Knowing his luck, the thing would explode and set him on fire. But... Well. There were worse ways to die.

[channe]

The letter is written by that same loose, slightly energetic hand:

Dominik,

About the matter we talked about the other night: It is done and if you've been following my trail like I knowe you do, you can complain all you want but I have gone and done it. so go and Wipe that smile off your face.

It is really for the best because what I saw where I was -- I didn't want you to know but see, I found you dead with your guts all everywhere on the batulfield and some Thesil sword in your stomach. Maybe if Laranna was still alive she'd have told you what a dipsquat you are for joining the militia. I joined the militia and look what happened to me.

Anyway I love you and if what I have done is done right you will know in a few weeks. These rings are for you. Your a Kaczmarek, and so you will know what to do with them when you put them on, that is what they are for.

I love you. you are the Only One here who knew my Situation and yet you loved me. For that I give you that gift.

Your sister,
Agnie.

Ten rings, one for each finger, in a circle, left for a brother, Dominik.

What will Aeryn do?