The beast before me was some twisted fusion of man and wolf; a bipedal creature whose long, crooked fingers ended in crescent claws, and whose torso was consumed in coarse fur that gave way along its dark neck, only to swarm with renewed fervor around its vulpine face. Jaws lined in sloping, glistening fangs, gaped wide as it howled in feral challenge, and crouching low, spread its long arms wide as if to embrace me.

Without warning or preamble, it lunged: flame swelling in the palms of his foul hands. I ducked low, avoiding a wide swing that seared the air, and bathed the wall beyond in a river of fire. Rolling forward, I passed between its wide set legs, coming up behind and raking my blade of slate along its back of obsidian, carving a long, deep gash. Perhaps it was weariness, or merely ignorance born of overconfidence, for I did not predict its reaction: without so much as a cry of fury or agony, it turned on bare heel, and slammed an iron fist against my face, staggering my. Its next blow hammered against my stomach, then snapping its claws out, it pierced my flesh, lifting me easily over its head, as if I were no more than a child, and perhaps to it, one so ancient and long steeped in darkness, I was.

It slammed my haggard, beleaguered form against the stones, shattering rock and bone, shrouding the battlefield in a cyclone of sundered rock and swirling dust. Growling, I flared the Cinder, rising to my feet and immediately throwing myself upon it once more. Blade raised level with my shoulder, I paused a moment, gathering my strength, then thrust with all my power, yet it merely deflected the ragged, stained stake upon its leathery wrist, and turning its hand, closed fingers of steel around my forearm. I lunged forward, surprising it; and pivoting, I used momentum as much as my fading strength to drive an armoured fist against its ribs.

Now it was the beast's turn to stagger, to fall to its knees in surprise and pain. I shook my weapon arm, the stake-driver sliding free and clattering to the earth with a resonant, mournful clang. I sank into a pugilist's stance: low with feet spread wide, turned slightly toward my foe, fists raised before me. The beast fixed me with radiant eyes of deep scarlet, then smiled -a sickening expression upon its twisted face - and with sibilant, rough voice spoke.

"Child of the Light, slave of Cinder, you shall not escape this place."

"Oh hell no!" Or'do's voice rang through my skull. "That bastard can't stop you, Aleorn. Not now, not ever. No foe is too mighty, nor are we ever too frail. It is our right to change this world, mine and yours."
 
"Neither," I grinned despite my agony. "Shall you."

Like a whirlwind of razor shards, a scream of fury and pain tore from Or'do's throat. He slammed the ornate blade of his greatsword into the earth, and heaved himself to his feet. Again, he roared, both arms spread wide, head tilted back.

For the longest time, I was alone. Or'do thought, yet never had I thought myself in need of company save for that of my blade.

Aleorn had turned his gaze skyward, studying the stars with softly radiant eyes. "How many worlds must we conquer?" He asked, his voice hollow once more.

"As many as there are." Or'do said. "The pair of us, are unstoppable."

Or'do bellowed, twisting his entire body as he ripped the blade free, and brandished it against the forces of darkness. Flame swelled in his breast, rippling along his body, transfiguring his undead flesh to a patchwork of glowing ember and black char. He roared again, sweeping the blade in a broad arc, crashing through the horde before him with the radiant fury of a fallen star. One step he took, his pulse an ominous thunder in his ears.

"We are unstoppable." Or'do lunged, lowering his shoulder and battering the nearest monster with his entire weight, toppling the mangled creature and in the same fluid motion whipping his blade through its thrashing body.

"I never thought I would have a reason." Aleorn confessed. "A purpose in this eternal life."

"Neither did I." Or'do murmured. And now that I do, I will let nothing take it from me.

With the frenzied force of a raging hurricane he fell upon the siege of shadow, their claws raking his body, their swords rending his flesh, yet he waded on all the same. Slogging through a mire of silt and blood, he slashed with furious abandon, caring not when a gap in his guard let foul talons slice his ribs, noticing not when his life's warmth turned cold on the stones around him, felt not the glacial pain rolling through him like a frigid tide.

I will let nothing take it from me.

Its claws scoured the flat of my blade, grinding against the ornate molding, and spraying my face with sparks. I pivoted, launching a diagonal slash that pealed against its ragged claw, rebounding as surely as if it were a wall of mortar and stone I had struck. I staggered back, my blade weaving a network of silvered lines through the air as I parried its flurry of blows, which rang upon me like a hailstorm of iron.

Another pace I was driven back, another. My blade thrashed in my grasp, cowering beneath the force of my foe's blows, trembling as if it were itself a thing alive and shivering in fright. Cracks formed, widened, spread like rivers of pitch, as grinning, the monster intensified its assault. Both hands came in from above, crashing against my trick weapon with such force that the driver was split in two, shattering apart and leaving my arm bare save for ribbons of flesh and vines of dark blood that crept fearfully toward my shoulder.

The next swipe caught me across the face, casting me across the stones like a child's plaything tempestuously abandoned. Pain wracked my body, a thousand burning needles barbed and edged in cruel hooks that tore me apart from within. I coughed and gasped, floundering to my feet in time to be smote down again.

I shuddered, fell to my knees, and felt the Cinder falter within my breast. It advanced, triumphant, its eyes radiant with merciless flame. The Beast raised a bloodied hand, fist clenched and wreathed in flame that cast flickering light over half its twisted face, the orb convulsing ever more wildly as he drew back to strike.

Or'do reached down, proffering a gloved hand. "Get off your ass, Aleorn. We've work to do." Even my imagination thought him blunt, it would seem. All the same, I felt fire surge through me, igniting my cold veins with fresh life.

As its fist descended like a star smote from heaven's vault, I backhanded it aside, and lunged to my feet; my body ablaze with fury and agony. Like cold chains binding me to the earth, pain dragged me down, slowed my movements, clogged my throat like solidifying tar. All the same, I struck: my fist moving as if through honey, smashing against its chest with incredible force. It stumbled back, shock clear even on its most foul features. I gave it not time to reconsider, retreat, or worse strike me down, I ducked low and surged in behind the staggering blow, driving my fist against its jaw, snapping the creature's head back with an audible clack of teeth on teeth, and the deep, wet crunch of splitting vertebra. Again I struck, again, again! Fury devoured my sanity, rendering my fists light as wind, my blows heavy as crumbling mountains. It reached out, snagging my hand with its own, and with impossible strength, it lifted me to peer into its eyes. Like molten emerald, those hateful almonds bored into me, then widened in shock as I reached in past its long arm, plunging fingers of cold, hard iron into its soft flesh, and ripping free one of its ribs.

Limp, it folded to the earth, then burst apart in a brilliant flare. Once more, I had cleansed the dark, and once more, I had succumbed to it. The madness lingered still, an irrepressible urge to crush, to smash, to destroy whatever I could. I knew not how long I could resist its allure.

"Why did this not vanish with the rest of its body?" I asked, expecting the Keeper's voice yet still startled when it came.

For the same reason that bullets or vials do not.

"Keeper..."

I do not know. She confessed, imparting an image of her with arms spread in a prolonged shrug. Only that it was from such bones that the First Flame was kindled.

"The Flame," I mused. Gently, I tucked the dark, mottled bone into a crease in my armour, wearing it diagonally as one would mount a sheathed blade or brimming quiver.

Surely you do not mean to-

"I do." I interjected, following her logic swiftly, for it was in a way, also mine. She knew that I intended to build again the First Flame, construct it here in the heart of Darkness. "It was not hate for the Flame that gave me cause to murder you." My voice still pitifully broke at the memory. "But of the Cycle it perpetuated."

You are dying already; blighted as you are by the Darkness, I doubt you can survive the Flame's flare.

"But if I do, I can save this realm." I had already begun striding toward the chamber's far side, where an elevator waited recessed in the stone and lost to shadow; a predator's maw gaping wide and eager. "And that is enough for me."

Or'do smashed an armored fist against the nearest foe, feeling only a burst of icy pain in his shoulder, and a slight tug on his arm as if by hesitant, supplicant hands, as his arm passed through the monster's roiling flesh, spraying its comrades with the foulness that inhabited its veins. The Cinder within him, was fading, and despite his anger, there was nothing more he could do to kindle it. Around him a thousand lay in the crumpled, ignoble postures that death merrily arranged, yet scores still writhed from the earth, or came in chariots of stone and fire from the heavens themselves.

Or'do placed a fond hand on Aleorn's shoulder, both laughing, elated as they stood over the Soul's limp frame.

Again, he lunged, the Cinder cold in his breast, yet his limbs still moving, still laying about with hammer blows.

"I cherished his company." Or'do thought. "He was more than I thought possible in this bleak world; another like me. Someone to drive away the loneliness of this sordid place."

"I've been meaning to ask you for some time." Aleorn gestured widely, capturing Or'do's entire body with a sweep of his gloved hand. "Why do you appear as I do?"

Or'do shrugged. "No reason." He grimaced beneath Aleorn's stare. "Alright, alright!" Or'do laughed, raising his hands palm outward in mock surrender. "Before I came to your world, I had conquered mine. When I slew the Soul, I gained something, the first trace of the Cinder we now bear. I saw you, Aleorn. Struggling, fighting with all your might to resist that which was inevitable, much as I once did."

"So you stole my look?" 

"Not exactly," Or'do laughed again. "I was selfish, unkind, even cruel. I cared not for you, in fact I was merely amused at your piteous struggle. At the helplessness in your eyes, the fury that could find no release. Then, I strode off again, to face once more the Soul. Yet this time, something was different. With flame of white and eyes of shadow, he matched me blow for blow. He smote me down, tore the frail Cinder from my chest, and left me there, bleeding and frail."

"The Soul?" Aleorn asked, almost hesitant to interject, fearing perhaps that Or'do would once more withdraw into that taciturn ally who neither smiled nor laughed, neither spoke nor cheered, whose eyes never wept nor glittered with that characteristic merriment. 

"Aye. The Darkness had taken him, as I." He paused, uncertain. "Took you."

Aleorn stared on in shock. "You what?!"

"I was fortunate, when my life faded, I remembered you, recalled vividly your struggle, and felt you fall. I stole your body, Aleorn. I became your twin when you reformed. When I saw you, I could not speak, could not find the words to capture my sorrow: I had exploited you as I had so many others, yet this time, I felt different, I felt guilty. I thought you would never forgive me, Aleorn. That once and forevermore, I would be alone."

"That will never happen." Aleorn promised. "No matter how you came to my side, I'll let nothing tear you from it."

"I really did care for him." Or'do thought. "And now, I will throw it all away." He fell to his knees once more, brought low by their ceaseless onslaught. He closed his mental hand around the shadow that lurked beside the light, the Dark that dwelt were Cinder had glowed. From within swelled a horrible cold, a frigid flame that welled from the deepest part of his heart, where only the bleakest sorrow lay. "DAMN YOU!" He screamed, tears burning from the corners of his eyes as he touched the darkness, and let it flood through him. His vision faltered, turned ashen, and faded. "I'm sorry, Aleorn." He whispered. "But I guess I still am that selfish coward who stole your corpse." One last tear streamed along his cheek. "Forgive me."

"No!" I beheld Or'do's struggle, and his surrender, through a vision bestowed by the Keeper.

You cannot save him, Ashen One. She said this not unkindly, yet I bristled all the same.

"Why?!" I fell to my knees, fists of iron slamming against the flagstones as tears burned like liquid glass from my eyes. "Why did you show me that?!"

Because you needed to see it.

I roared in fury, and throwing the bone to the earth, I bellowed a wordless challenge. Not Or'do, not him. The Fates had stolen everything from me, yet he was one thing they would never take. Again, I screamed, yet this time in pain, as I thrust a hand inside my own body, and tore my own rib free.

Ashen One! The Keeper's invisible hand grasped my wrist, yet I jerked my arm free, throwing the bloody splinter atop the rib of my fallen foe.

"By the bone of my body," I felt the rib regenerate, yet simple tore it out once more, piling it upon the others. "By the blood in my veins," Again, again, again! I ground my bones to tinder, and set other glistening ribs upon them. "By the cold of my sorrow," I fell on hands and knees, one hand on either side of the small, damp pile. "By the fire of my soul," I reached to my breast, nearly toppling as I did so, and dug my steel fingers into the flesh beneath which the Cinder lay. "I swear," My fingers brushed against searing heat, and pinching off part of the pulsing mass, I plunged my hand into the makeshift kindling, igniting with a blinding flare the bones of Dark and Light. "I SHALL NOT LET YOU WIN!"

Darkness. Or'do was lost, alone, devoured in shadow. Yet he felt all the same his body moving, striking down those before him.

His fist of iron smashed against sallow flesh, crunched against pitted bone, grated against steel and burst on through. Again they struck, yet this time, he parried their blows upon nothing more than an upraised arm. He was a whirlwind of shadow and light, his fists silvered meteors that with celestial force smote the twisted kin of Darkness.

Long, wordless, wracked with pain and sorrow, his voice rang out as like a dervish of black steel, he surged across the field of battle, his slender frame splattered in blood, his legs slogging through a mire of blood and torn flesh, yet still he did not slow. Vines of blackness erupted from his forearms, slashing through the foes encircling him with little more than a gentle tug, as if it were damp paper through which he passed. Anger drove him on, gave strength to his fading arms, gave power to his once frail limbs.

Their shrieks became a horrid, dissonant melody; a thrumming knell that told of his despair in its sordid notes. His breath misted in black tendrils that veiled his angular features, turning his once kind eyes into pools of molten scarlet whose pale radiance was only intensified by the darkness on which they were cast. He waded onward, slashing wildly, great wings of blackness erupting from his back; knobbed bones across which thin membrane hung, and lashing these, he launched himself into the sky.

Dark fire poured from his jaws, washing over the battlefield as he came down once more, smashing into the sea of limbs and bodies like a stone from space set alight by the force of its entry. Like war-hammers his fists crashed home, tearing flesh and sundering bone into dust. He lunged, his trailing foot vomiting a tidal swell of black fire that devoured those behind him, and with another howl of desperate anger, he slammed into the wall of adversaries.

As if the sun itself were stained black and thrust to the earth, a great orb of fire swelled out from his impact, devouring his foes and leaving nothing but rugged, pitted, forever befouled ruin in its wake. He sagged, crumpling to the earth like a marionette with severed strings, his strength gone alongside his consciousness, yet the Dark had not mercy for him. The chime of bells rang out, and the red moon turned scarlet. From it came a mass of twisted limbs: the One Reborn came forth in a spray of foul liquid, its many limbs thrashing with eagerness and lust.