Lycana stands by Marf, her eyes travelling over the scene before her. Arcana looks flustered, her cheeks a rosy color. Embarrassed. Likely thanks to Finneas and his undying attention for anything walking with a vagina. Any breathing female... although, there were times she might call the need for oxygen into question as well. Speak of the demon, she cuts her eyes to the side, where the incubus in question lounges on a bench, an idle smirk decorating his handsome face. He looked awfully satisfied, he knew he was getting under the cerise haired womans skin. Not that it took too much, Arcana was a much gentler soul despite being more powerful than Lycana. Her eyes drift beyond them, towards the ceiling.

The bell, already firmly affixed to the framework above the altar. The mounting was strong, thank goodness, and had stood the test of time for years. Hopefully it would continue to hold the heavy weight of the bell, otherwise it would squish Damien and that would add a bit of complexity to the already insane situation.

Her eyes drop to the large, flat stone altar, much like the one in the clearing where she had raised Reika. She sucks in a small breath, feeling Marf’s understanding hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle push forward. She had told him all, and being him... he understood and accepted everything she said and wanted to do in the situation. She didn’t know why he was so good to her, she just counted herself lucky to have such a man standing by her side as a tag team partner, and a friend. Something else licks along the edges of her subconscious, but she bats it away, firmly moving her thoughts to the matter at hand.

Another light shove from behind gets her feet in motion, walking towards the still form laying on the stone. Brought there, no doubt, by Arcana’s magical way of transferring things. Why bother to question it? Her steps slow as she grows near. Arcana backs away, allowing Lycana to come to a halt directly next to the prone body of Damien. It didn’t seem real, laying eyes on him once more, under these circumstances. Her eyes travel over him, noting the chalk white pallor, with blueish undertones. The waxy appearance of his skin. He had been gone for a while, but his current condition made her think Arcana had been feeding small amount of herself into him to preserve him. All this time and she had never even asked the question.

“How long?”

“Two weeks.”

Two weeks. At least fourteen days had passed since Damien had taken his last breath, and they wanted her to bring him back. Her eyes flicker up to the bell for a brief moment. Using that. She had no idea what to expect, even with everything Finneas had told her. It would draw on the dark side of her energy, but beyond that... she had no idea. Couldn’t be nearly as bad as what had happened with Reika, slicing her own flesh to feed the flames blood, and her brush with the reaper.

Her hand reaches out, sliding gently over his shoulder. Cold. His flesh was icy, unyielding. Her palm skims down, her fingers pausing over each raised scar, each small blemish. Every one she knew by heart. She had given them to him, during their time together in Cates's compound. The harsher ones, made from anger, when he was resisting and fighting her control. When she just wanted to hurt him and see his eyes flash anger in response. She traces a line, barely noticeable. And then there was the time of trust, of bonding, the time that kept them both going. Where he willingly submitted to her, becoming her pet. She stops, just above another mark, one seared deeply into his chest. One that she had not given to him.

A six-pointed sun star, encircled by three symmetrical barriers. A branding. Not of her doing.

Neither was the new, ugly would with gaping, torn edges nearby.

Her hands lifts, hovers over it. Sloppy work. Or perfect. Depending on how one looked at it. It almost looked like he had been stabbed with a serrated knife. Whoever had either been really lucky, or knew what they were doing. Lycana was going to go with the former. The wound was on an angle, the raggedly skin showing a hesitation almost in the actions. Unfortunately for Damien, the attacker had struck right in the region of his heart, likely stopping him in his tracks. An inch or two in either direction... well, there was no use really thinking on it. Whoever it was, had managed and now she had to bring him back.

“Can you do it?” the anxious voice of Arcana comes from behind her, but she doesn’t turn around. “I’m going to try. I don’t know a thing about this bell, we are relying on....”

“Me.” Finneas strolls up. “And Lycana here has such a difficult time accepting me at my word. Despite helping her with her little Betsy Granger ‘dream’ as she called it.” She casts him a cynical look. “I’d say helping is a bit extreme. You did allow me to see who was there...” she allows. “But it left me with more questions than answers.”

“And you know where you have to go to find out everything you need to know.” he points out. “Yeah. I'm really eager to go have a chat with her.” Lycana grumbles. “Well, my dear, then filled with questions you forever shall be.” the incubus shakes his head in exasperation.

“What are you two talking about?” Arcana looks confused, her brow furrowed. “It's a long story.” Lycana responds. “A very long story. That nobody really seems to understand.” Marf comes up alongside Lycana, looking down impassively at the dead body. “This one won't end up in the bed with us, will it?” His dry words force a soft chuckle from Lycana. “No, no... this one should wake up right away.” She pauses. “Of course, the last one was supposed to as well.” She risks a sideways glance at him. “Great.” he snorts. “You sure you can do this, without using too much of your powers?”

“Yes... As long as the bell works the way Finneas says it's supposed to.” They both look dubiously up at the large brass colored bell. “You know he is right, as much as I hate to say it. You do have to talk to Betsy at some point and figure out what happened. And why.” Lycana lets out a pained moan. “I know, I will.” He arches a brow. “Lycana...”

“At some point. I will. I promise.” He makes a doubtful face but nods. “I'm going to hold you to that.” Arcana appears on the other side of Lycana. “Are you ready to do this?” Lycana nods. She might as well get on with it. She looks around the smallish space, wondering just how things would go. Based on what Finneas had told her, nobody would be in immediate danger, but did she trust his memory? Considering he didn’t bother to tell them how BIG the damned thing was. “I don’t know how this is going to go, perhaps it would be best if you all left. To be on the safe side.”

“Im not going anywhere.” Arcana. She wasn’t shocked.

“Neither am I.” Marf. Still not shocked.

“I’ll be outside.” And ever the soul of self-preservation, Finneas booked it out of the crypt. Lycana’s lips unwillingly curve up in a smile. Definitely not shocked. That went to show just how much faith he had in his own assessment of what was going to happen. “If you two are staying, at least stand in the back, just in case.” They comply, giving each other a bit of a stare as they make sure there's a good distance between them. With a sigh, Lycana mentally prepares, shaking her arms out as she readies herself for the process the demon had described to her.

Breathing out loudly through her nose, she extends her palms out towards his body, calling forth her dark magic energy as she begins the chant. “Bell Lazari ore exíbit gládius acútus vocationem. Dat et accipit vitam. Mortali corpore ad animam suam.”

‘Bell of Lazarus, heed my call. Giveth and taketh life. Deliver his soul back to his mortal body.’

A deep blue glow begins around her hands, slowly snaking out to wrap around Damien’s body. She repeats the words as she reaches up and grasps the rope attached to the bell, giving it a heave. Her shoulders strain against the weight working against her. The bell clangs out. The blue worms its way up the rope, slowly bathing the bell itself with the cerulean hue.

She yanks again, the bell ringing out a second time.

As she pulls a third time, she whispers a different incantation. “Cam expergefactus me vinctum. Non dimisit eum Deus ut noceret mihi. Fiat animam suam: a me enim pertinent ad eorum erit quasi quamdiu sum eam. Eripiam eum manus. Is est mei.”

‘Bell of Awakening, bind him to me. Allow him to do me no harm. Let his life, belong to me for as long as I shall will it. Deliver him to my hands. He is mine.’

Clang goes the bell. The blue glow envelopes his body completely now, almost blinding Lycana. She squints against it, feeling her magic flow from her body into his. She senses it then... slowly wrapping its way around a part of her, the deep green hue binding itself around in a neat knot. His essence. Bound to her. Just as she had wanted... which meant. Her eyes fly to him as she closes her hand, abruptly cutting the glow off and plunging the crypt into dimness once more, the last echos of the bell coming to a wavering halt.

Everyone collectively holds their breath, the entire room in complete silence as they all stare at Damien’s body.

And nothing happens.

Again.

Lycana feels a sense of deja vu wash over her as she stares at his motionless chest. She had felt it though, she had felt his essence binding to hers, just as she had commanded. She feels them, creeping up on either side of her to stare down at Damien. Just as dead as he had been five minutes ago.

“Whats going on Lycana? Why isnt he alive?!” Arcana’s voice starts raising in pitch as the seconds march on by with no reaction from the man on the stone. “Maybe I was wrong. It might.... take a little bit. It did last time... with Reika.” she says, her eyes never moving from Damien. “Last time?! Last time you fucked up Lycana! I thought you knew what you were doing!”

“She warned you that she had never used the bell before. And that she didnt want to do this. This is all on you.” Marf snarls at Arcana who rounds on him. “Dont you get involved! This has nothing to do with you at all!” she shrieks. “If it has to do with her, it has to do with me!” his shoulders straighten, ready to battle it with the vertigo. Lycana shushes them to no avail. “It doesnt though! Maybe if you two werent attached at the damn hip!” she points her finger at Marf. “Maybe if you didnt try to blackmail her to bring back YOUR friend. She did you a favor and you’re complaining!”

“He isnt even alive! I should have known you would be stupid enough to trust an incubus Lycana and...” she abruptly stops as Lycana hushes her once more, staring intently at Damien. “Dont you...” “STOP. He has been dead for two weeks... Maybe it just takes....”

With a gasp, Damien’s eyes fly open, causing all three to jump.

New breath rose in his lungs as his chest heaved in and out, his heart racing; his eyes blinking away the darkness. He tried to sit up but his body remained frozen in atrophy, unable to respond to his brain’s commands to even move a muscle. He tried to get his bearings, tried to remember where he was; what he was doing here. He felt eyes watching him, but couldn’t tell if they were friend or foe. “Who’s there?” Damien’s voice barely squeaked out, taking him multiple tries just to get those two simple words out of his dry mouth.

Lycana was the first to respond, slowly creeping forward, unable to hold back the smile playing about her lips. She had done it! Elation had her heart galloping in her chest like a racehorse. The bell had worked, it had brought him back... and now he was bound to her. She leaned over him, trying to get in his line of vision, her long sapphire tresses running over his flesh as she stares down into his eyes. “Damien... How are you feeling?”

Damien’s eyes met hers, locked themselves in on her steely-blue gaze. A part of him was relieved to see a familiar face... another apart of him felt he had just traded one prison for another. He tried to remain calm, remembering the last time that he had seen her had been back when he had been a ‘guest’ of Hecate. That had been years ago, felt like almost a lifetime had passed between now and then. He had failed in freeing Arcana from the Light Bringer’s grasp and paid the price of trying to take what wasn’t his. He was no thief, though… just a loyal friend. Or at least, that’s what he told himself. His misdeed had led him into Lycana’s path… he became her pet. The scars that adorned his body, ninety percent of them were from her. Seeing her standing before him like this, he felt like he could feel every single one of them all over again, all at the same time.

He gritted his teeth against the painful reminder as his fury flowed through him, his body responding in kind as his hand lifted to her face. He had overshot the mark, he wanted her throat, wanted to wrap his fingers tightly around that delicate neck of hers and squeeze until her face matched the color of her hair. Instead, he found himself touching the side of her face, his thumb brushing against her bottom lip. His stay in the In-Between had changed him, his powers adapting into the form of some sort of memory retention. When he touched someone, he could see their memories as if they were his own. In this particular instance, he recalled a moment from her in which Damien had been locked away in the dungeon during another one of Lycana’s sessions. Only this time, things had gotten out of hand and the blade was at his throat. This must’ve been after he had begged Arcana to kill him. Had he asked the same of Lycana?

Maybe she had obliged him? Or was this a recent memory? Had she been the one to deal the fatal blow to Khaos? Was she the one responsible for his brief visit to the In-Between? “I feel…” Damien struggled to find the words, a wave of emotions and confusion swirling around him. “Like I just woke up from a nightmare. Where am I? What are you doing here?”

“Now now Damien, is that any way to treat the person who just brought you back to life?” she shifts her head, catching his hand in hers, lowering it to rest on his chest, though she subtly kept her hand atop of his. Her voice at odds with her actions. She slowly scans his body, noting the pinkening of his flesh, the blue tinge leaving his lips. She can feel the warmth returning under her hand, the waxy feel being replaced by the firmness of living flesh. “You are on my homelands, to answer your question.” she purrs, reaching out to touch his hair, knowing it would irritate him even more.

He tried to move his head away from her touch but, apparently, all strength had left him when he had reached up to touch her. Like always, he was at her mercy. “Why?” Damien brutally asked. “Why bring me back? What worth am I to you?”

“Why not? Why wouldn’t I jump at the chance to have you back where you belong... with me. We weren't finished all those years ago. I left, and I told you that I would be back but....” her voice trails off as she thinks back to when he was taken from her. She shakes her head sharply, trying to rid herself of the melancholy thoughts. It didn’t matter he was here now. And he was hers once more. Although his attitude... had much to be desired. It seemed like they might be starting all over again. Another stab of disappointment jolts through her. Had she expected him to welcome her with open arms? Maybe not quite that extreme but.... maybe at least pleased to see her? “You know what you are to me... my sweet pet. Have you forgotten?” She schools her features back to the ice queen that she played so well, hiding her roiling emotions under the cold facade.

“I’m not going back,” Damien hissed, his teeth gritting together as he removed his hand from under hers and grabbed her by the wrist, almost out of desperation. “I’m NEVER going back to that place, EVER! If that’s what you were hoping for…”

Damien’s words caught in his throat as something he said had triggered an emotional reaction out of her; broke through her barriers and pierced what, he could only assume, was her heart. The images that flashed before his eyes were overwhelming, almost too good to be true. Were these memories? Fantasies? Lycana’s eyes took in his half-naked form, methodically cutting into his skin so as to not pierce any vital organ, always with the intent to injure, never to kill. The delicate nature she always showed as she tended to his wounds afterwards, ensuring he’d live to see another day. The pain reminded him that he was, somehow, still alive.

Damien swallowed hard at these suggestive moments between them, not being anything like he had remembered it to be. Sure, the torture was still real… she had still bled him nearly dry many-a-times after all but, why is it that when he saw things through her eyes, it looked… different? His heart began to beat faster as his palms began to get sweaty, his fingers losing their grip slightly on her wrist. His eyes began to scan over her form as he felt her own pulse quicken, as if she realized just what, exactly, he was doing. Had he the strength, he may’ve sat up then, his hand locking her wrist in place while the other went to the base of her neck. He might’ve leaned in then, forcing his mouth over hers, darting his tongue into her mouth, tasting her. He wanted to pull her down on top of him, his hands going to her…

“Oh God…” Damien choked out, realizing just what was happening. Damien blinked away the sinful thoughts as he saw Lycana staring back at him, horrified. Oh, please don’t tell me she could read minds, too? His hand recoiled from her wrist as if her very flesh had been made of fire, his head slowly falling back down onto the cold, hard slab… his eyes shifting to the giant bell that dangled precariously above him. At that moment, he silently hoped for whatever gravity that was holding the bell in place to cease to exist and instantly crush him, putting him out of his misery.

Lycana remained paralyzed in place, watching the myriad of emotions fly through Damien’s eyes. She could feel it, the gentle caress across her mind. His essence prodding deep inside at her innermost thoughts. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shove him out. She helplessly watched in awe as he plundered her memories, feeling vulnerable and exposed, not something she enjoyed in the least.

Was this a result of binding him to her? Did she fuck up yet again by doing this? The mood changes, tension rising between the two. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt it. Her nerves start to tingle, the fine hairs on her body lifting at the invisible electricity in the air. This was not something she was prepared to deal with, and she fully commiserated with his expelled imploration. Belatedly, she realizes her hand is hovering uselessly in the air, and she snatches it back, pulling it close to her body as she struggles to rein in all her wayward emotions, not knowing how to process and respond to all this. Her mouth opens, and her usual reaction emerges.

“Which one Damien? Not that it matters. You of all people should know that none of them would come to your aid.” she lashes out, her words heavily laden with snark. She carefully schools an air of neutrality as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She is about to say more when she is bumped out of the way by an annoyed Arcana, who had been standing aside, seething in silence. “What is wrong with you Lycana? Can't you see you are just antagonizing him? But that’s what you do isn't it? I should never have asked you for your help!” she snarls, gesturing in the air with her hand as she hovers protectively over her friend, not liking the vibes she had felt in the air. Something had passed between the two, more than the hatred that was usually there, and Arcana didn’t like it at all. She stares at the dark vixen of violence as she slowly backs away, cold gray eyes shielded.

“But you did. And it worked.” Lycana reminds her, turning away from what is sure to be a touching scene. Damien let his gaze fall from the ceiling down to the red-headed woman now standing over him, his eyes going wide with surprise. She looked how he envisioned she might now at her age, yet… there was something different about her, something darker. He tried reaching out for her but his body was paralyzed once more, this time more so out of shock. The last time he had seen her, he had asked her to kill him. Now here she was, bringing him back from the dead. “Kaiya…?” Damien could barely form the words. “Is it really you?”

Arcana drags her eyes away from her rival, the chilly light in them warming as they settle on the man who had been her closest friend since she was a child. Despite whatever the hell it was going on with Lycana, she was thrilled to have him back. She would do it all over again, do anything it took to have the same results. But the sooner she got him away from that harridan the better, and she knew it. “Yes, it's me.” her voice was soft, a small catch in it as a sob lodges itself in her throat, tears springing to her eyes as the sudden onset of emotion floods her. She reaches out, her fingers lightly tracing his jawbone as she offers him a wavering smile.

Vomit.

Lycana rolls her eyes so hard she was in danger of seeing her own brain. She shouldn’t be shocked really, Damien had come and risked his own life for Arcana after all. And she would do the same for him. It was terribly sweet. She had often wondered if there was more to the friendship between them. Not that it mattered either way. But.... Maybe she was being a bit unfair. She knew a thing or two about bonds now. The two had always been close, probably always would. Almost like herself and...

“What was all that about?”

She felt him behind her before he spoke, emerging from the shadows to stand by her, the warmth radiating off his body immediately relaxing her. She keeps her eyes on the two besties conversing, half an ear attuned to what they were saying as she answers Marf. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” she pauses for a second, tilting her head to look up at him. “When we are alone.” He nods in acceptance, knowing she doesn’t want prying ears to hear what she had to say. His large hand settles on her hip as he fixes his stare and the formerly dead Damien. There was something that still made him want to shake his head, knowing the man had been stone cold only minutes before and somehow Lycana had to power to raise him, to bring him right back to life. They had been through a lot of weird shit together, but something of this magnitude still had the capacity to rattle. Motion from the slab of rock, draws both their attentions.

Arcana assisted Damien off of crudely shaped dais as he tested out his legs, ensuring they would support his weight. He offered her a half-smile before his eyes fell upon Lycana once more. There was no love lost between the two, this much was certain. Still, she had done something he didn’t know she even had the power to do so. Though he didn’t quite understand the mystical world that she and Arcana operated within, he, none-the-less made a mental note not to underestimate her. “I suppose you’re expecting a ‘thank you’ of sorts from me,” Damien inquired, his eyes flickering over the large man that stood at her side. “But you forget… I know the type of person you are, Tavora. So, tell me, what do you gain from my resurrection?”

“Goodness, the assumptions you make! Acting like I had some ulterior motive to bringing you back from the dead.” Lycana pretends to look hurt, a faint remnant of the actual emotion twisting deep within her belly, willfully ignored. “I gain pretty much nothing from this. Arcana here forced my hand, otherwise, you'd still be as cold and hard as that rock you were just on. So yeah, a thank you would be pretty damn nice.”

Arcana slips her arm around the waist of Damien, her lip curling up at Lycana’s words. Her hands ball up into fists as she starts to step forward, her eyes blazing with anger. In turn, Marf moves to be even with Lycana, running his hands together at the prospect of a fight.

“Now now Arcana. It's true isn't it? I did you both a favor. Wouldn’t it be rude to just... Skuttle off without so much as a little gratitude?” Lycana calmly inspects her fingernails, a smug expression on her face as she feels the annoyance rolling off the ruby haired woman in nearly palpable waves. “I suppose.” Arcana grits her teeth so hard she thought they might crack. It galled her, but the bitch was right. She HAD done something for her. Granted, she had begged and resorted to threats but... she had done it. And Arcana liked to think she was better than Lycana, not as lowly in manners. To have her call her out, was.... terrible. “Thank you.” she nearly chokes on the bile that rises in her throat. She looks over to Damien, hoping he followed suit, but his eyes were on Marf, their eyes boring holes in one another.

Damien’s gaze remained fixated on Lycana’s ‘muscle’ as he watched his movements carefully, noticing how quick he was to put himself in harm’s way for his azure-haired temptress. He contemplated what type of power she might hold over him, if it had been reminiscent of the kind he had experienced within Cate’s hallowed halls… or if this was something else entirely. He knew very little of what actual trials and tribulations both of these women had to endure by simply being a part of the Light Bringer’s service, but he knew enough that if these two were still standing here, it was for a reason. And though Arcana probably didn’t need him to fight her battles for him, he hoped that, for him, she’d make an exception.

Damien was hesitant to throw down with Marf though, forcefully realizing his own limitations, especially in this moment. Hell, just taking a step forward to back up Arcana was enough to make his legs feel like they were made of Jello. He tried calling upon the darkness to aid him, offer him some sort of assistance in the coming battle; if only so that he could occupy the brute long enough for Arcana to melt Lycana’s face off… “Eadon,” Damien suddenly blurted out, remembering the warning he had received in the In-Between.

Damien felt all eyes on him as he forced himself to look back at Lycana. For a moment, when he looked at her, he didn’t see the blue-haired bitch that had tortured him; the one that had left him a broken shell of a man for Erebus to piece back together. Was this a result of his revival, some sort of magic she held over him? Some sort of illusion? Or was this the reverberations of Echo’s powers now flowing through him, giving him a glimpse behind the curtain – seeing the person’s soul for what it truly was. “He’s coming for you,” Damien warned, a twang of fear in his voice as he recalled his encounter with the Lich King.

“Who?” Lycana looks confused, keeping her eyes locked onto Damien’s. “Who the hell is Eadon?” She keeps her tone steady, though hearing actual fright in his voice made her nerves tingle in a rather unpleasant way. “Whoever it is, he won't even get close.” Marf growls, ripping his gaze from the already disliked man back to Lycana.

Arcana slips her arm back around Damien, holding him steady as she can see him wavering a little bit. She had been foolish to even think about trying to start something when he was in this condition. How Lycana always managed to get under her skin... literally every single time she told herself she wasn’t going to allow herself to be goaded, she found her temper flaring up higher than the flames from her hands. The desire to just turn Lycana into a charred husk was beyond tempting... but the knowledge of her own demise following behind was enough to keep her harnessed at least that much.

Feeling Arcana brace him, he could practically feel the heat rising from her touch. It was enough to remind him of the orphanage and that was not a memory he wanted to revisit, not now, not ever. Part of him had to smirk at the thought of what would become of him if the two sorceresses battled it out. He’d like to believe Arcana would win out in the end, at least make his sacrifice meaningful. How ironic, to be brought back by Lycana only to be sent back to hell by her goon of a thug.

“I don’t know who he is,” Damien answered truthfully. “He hid behind the visage of a Lich King, his features more skeletal than human. But he is powerful, powerful enough to kill the guardian of… wherever it is that I was. And he knew things, about you… your powers; knew that you’d be the one to try and save me. He was looking for a way out of the In-Between, tried to use whatever magic you had conjured to serve his purpose of returning to this mortal plane. I barely defeated him, but even in death… his warning remained. ‘Tell Tavora, I’ll see her soon’.”

Lycana thinks for a few moments, then does a hand gesture in the air, clearly waving off any threat to her. “A nobody then, one who hides behind a mask. Too cowardly to reveal their true form. I know all about those sorts. We see them every day.” She glances at Marf who nods his affirmation. “Besides, if you defeated him once, I can use you to do so should I need your help. If this... Eadon should get himself into this realm, which... I might add I have my doubts about.”

Damien lowered his gaze, taking particular notice of Lycana’s words and the manner in which she spoke them. “Use me…?” Damien countered, fearing his suspicions were correct. “And what makes you think I would kill this creature for you? You’re not… afraid, are you Tavora? After all… he is just a ‘nobody’.”

“Always good to have a back up plan, don’t you think?” she calmly regards him, her lips quirking into her patented feral smile. “And I didn’t mention it before? Mmmm I suppose it slipped my mind.” She shifts into motion, pacing slowly around the duo of Arcana and Damien, her hands clasped behind her back. Arcana watches, her body growing stiffer with every purposely placed foot. “You belong to me now Damien. Your very being is intertwined with mine. You will be at my beck and call... for as long as I wish it. Otherwise, a few ding dongs of that nifty bell over there...” she nods her head at it as a strangled sound of denial emerges from Arcana. “And back off to death you go!” She stops in front of him with a grin. “Now isn't that fun?”

“There she is…” Damien smirked, his hands clenching as the darkness swirled around them. “There’s the real Tavora, I remember. You really did take after Cate, didn’t you? Even down to the subverting others to do your bidding. There’s just one problem Lycana; I’m not the same Damien you remember…” He looked down at his hand as the obsidian dagger materialized out of the void, its blade shimmering in the darkness.

Before Marf could react, Damien brought the blade up to Lycana’s throat, the knife cutting into her flesh just enough to leave a trickle of blood down her neck. Damien grunted against some invisible force, steadying his hand in place, preventing him from dealing the fatal blow. The veins in his arms and hands popped as his face contorted from anger to confusion. He glared into her cold-as-ice eyes as her lips curled in amusement.

“Did I forget the part where you cannot harm me? No matter what you wield Damien. Magic, weapons.... your own hands.” her voice drops suggestively. “As much as you may want to, you will not reach satisfaction. You cannot physically injure me enough to cause real damage.”

Marf, stiff with rage behind her, glares, his eyes spitting promises at Damien. Arcana, just gapes, confused, the reality not sinking in. Lycana lifts her hand and places delicate fingers on his forearm, carefully removing it from her vicinity with a negligent air. She softly touches her throat, examining the crimson droplets that transfer onto her hands from the cut, her demeanor calm and collected in the face of Damien’s fury.

“Don't worry Damien, I won't need you that often. But you had best try to stay on my good side, lest I have to go out of my way to make my point to you. You are MINE. You have always been mine, and now... you truly are.” She smiles at Arcana in a pleasant manner. “Aren't you happy that you decided to blackmail me, darling?”

“You’re a monster...” Arcana says quietly, shocked and appalled that she had gotten Damien into this position. “Never underestimate me. Either of you.” Lycana slowly steps away, turning her back on them to indicate that she is finished. Arcana grasps Damien’s arm, and drags him slowly down the hallway out into the night, both wanting to escape the lycans presence for the time being. The stare Damien throws back is filled with unspoken threats.

____________________________________________________________________________________

“Perhaps you don’t want to delve back into the origins of all of this but I do. It is a fond memory for me, one that I look back on with a lot of enjoyment. One that I take great pleasure out of revisiting, each and every detail.

Do you remember the first time we met Alias?

I do.

The whistle of that knife as it went whizzing past my ear, it's not something one is bound to forget. In that moment I knew there was going to be so much more to come between us. So much more than that night had to offer. That we would end up having our own special moments as time marched on. Things that would be, under the surface, even greater than the impacts of that night.

That night, it was only the beginning.

But what a beginning it was.

As you mentioned I had a front row seat to all the action, even if I wasn’t the one holding the iron myself, much to my everlasting disappointment. As I held your arm steady, I was so close, I could see the whisps of smoke rising off your hand. I could feel your muscles tense and jerk under my palms. I could smell the charring of your flesh as the brand seared the Left Hand symbol onto your hand, and into your brain.

I could hear the change in your breathing, the perfect tenor of your breathing change in cadence with the sizzling of your skin. The glorious cadence of your scream as both realization and pain ripped through you.

It pained me to release you and walk away that night Alias.

I wanted to stay by your side. I wanted to hold on and watch the myriad of expressions cross your face as you saw the work completed. I wanted to see the realization dawn, that this was not a nightmare. I wanted to feel it all coming off of you, the emotions as they changed from horror, to despair, to acceptance, to rage.

I wanted to live them all with you.

I wanted to be there when the numbness wore off and the adrenaline spiked.

Regardless, that moment was pretty special, wasn’t it?

It's what really set the wheels in motion for this match to even come into existence. I think we both knew from the start that we would meet one on one. Sure, we had our tag team match and while that is the area I am most into lately, it wasn’t quite the same as this one on one chance for you, was it? This is something you have talked about for the longest time. Eating the Left Hand one at a time.

But everybody escaped you, didn’t they?

Well except Ash. Which I suppose is divine, considering she was the one who wielded the brand to begin with. She reveled in the opportunity. She came alive as part of the group and then she not only left our ranks... she pretty much disappeared entirely afterwards, in all the ways that matter. But that is neither here nor there...

Fate intervened and made it impossible for you to get your hands on everybody that you wanted to, whisking sweet justice away from your grasping hands.

Do you wish it were you who held the gun that took down the Baphomet? Or maybe you had held onto that sweet little seed of hope. Nurturing it, praying that it would take root and the Baphomet would make his return so that you could play the reaper. Perhaps you rail at the unfairness that your opportunity would be swept away from you with such finality?

There is a small part of me pleased by the way things have turned out. Because now?

Now you're bringing allllll that vitriol to me.

You say you're going to beat the ever-loving shit out of me.... and I'm here for it.

Because I’m going to be bringing it right back to you. Every last blow you land, I will serve you right back. You want to Eat Lycana so bad Alias, you're going to not only have to work for it, but taste it yourself. So, my darling, I truly hope you enjoy savoring the pain you get, as well as dish out. That you take that pain you get, and you use it to push you. That you let it drive you forward to come on even harder. That you use it to push you to OVERCOME the very face of adversity! You know what that would make you Alias?

Just like me.

Haha, did you feel your stomach flip when I said that?

I hope you did.

I hope that made you even angrier.

Maybe I'm crazy. I'm sure there are multiple on the roster that would agree with that without a single moment's hesitation, but I want you all riled up. I want you to bring me everything that you are threateni.... no, promising.

Because yeah, I sure do enjoy the pain still. Thanks for mentioning it, it had been a little while, hadn't it?

I hope I showed that each and every time we crossed paths, however briefly over the course of time. Each encounter after a match. The little games we played, of who could get the upper hand more frequently. Tit for tat. They were promises to one another, weren't they? A promise that there was more to come, a promise that what we could be to one another was so much more than what appeared on the surface.

I was a part of your catalyst Alias. You should be thanking me for forcing your fallibility to the surface, bringing it to your attention. Look at where you ended up because of this all, with such a meaning to your life now. A focused path to stride down, with your pain and torment being the guiding hand, the reins that jerked the bit in your mouth to set you the direction you needed to be. Spurring you headlong down the trail, instead of taking the meandering path... putting you where you needed to be in much swifter than had you tried to find it on your own.

You found your meaning, through the Left Hand. So perhaps while you never raised your hand in allegiance, you were still a part of us in your own funny way, letting us shape you and usher you towards what you were truly meant to be.

We sent you towards each event that would turn you into who you are today. Polishing each facet, making them become clear. Paving the way for grudges to be buried and alliances forged... Such as your newfound friendship with Betsy Granger. Why DID you hate her so much anyway? Was it really as simple as a singular enemy is common that brought the flames down to a flicker before dousing them? I suppose I can't be one to talk there... my own relationship with the Impossible one is also rather... complicated. If I cannot even explain it myself, I can't really expect others to understand anything about it, now can I? The only this I can remark on is that she has a certain... never say die attitude about her that just tickles me. It is that pertinacious nature that draws me, much as your own does.

It makes me.....

Dare I say it?

Admire you.

Dear lord, did Lycana actually just compliment the man who is her bitter rival?

I did, yeah.

Happens on rare occasions, don’t get too used to it.

Despite all outer appearances Alias, I don’t hate you. I actually have no reason to. Quite the contrary, I enjoy you. Watching you burn your own brand off, sent a thrill down my spine. The length that you would go, drew me in as a moth to a flame. Your defiance fascinated me. The urge to see how much it would take to get you to bend or break, it was too tempting to resist. I suppose that was a driving force for me, and then you started to come for me and... well it just became a battle of wills. Who would give in first? Turns out, it was neither of us. I took great delight in each and every single one of our meetings. I looked forward to them. I found myself wondering when the next time you would strike would be, when was the next time we could get just another hint of one another.

So, to have you now at Leap of Faith, all to myself and for what appears to be our grand finale? It is a rather bittersweet moment. But all good things must come to an end, or so they say.

I hope everyone is ready for a rather lengthy affair, for I certainly don’t want to rush things with you. I don’t think that you would be in a hurry to end the match either... We both want to make our last time together special, am I right? I mean, we do have not one, but two steel cages to play with. Think of the possibilities at hand with them! The blood that can be drawn! The pain that can be afflicted! The leaps! The risks! The.....

Well, you get my point. I'm sure you’ve done a lot of imagining on how this could go yourself.

Odds are, you have been musing on it. Ruminating on just what you would like to do to me in there. Moves guaranteed to cause the most damage. Things that are musts for you, chances that you will seize, the amount of revenge extracted before you would even think about scaling the wall... And so have I. For me, it's not about winning...

It's going to be about making you WORK to get a victory.

Those limits I always loved testing with you? I’m going to slam right on through them. You can deliver to me whatever the hell it is you wish, and I will just get right on back up and come for more. This is what it's all about for me Alias, and you... you are a pinnacle moment. I’ve never had the time to really flex and see just how far I could push you, and now... now we do. We have all the time in the world to do this. What are they going to do? Climb in and try to pull us apart?

Only a fool would do so.

So, this is what it's all about... You’re coming in to take out five months of retribution on me, and I’m looking to see if I can find your breaking point and push you beyond anywhere you have been before. To set your emotions on fire and make you lose all shreds of control. Make no mistake about it though Alias... I fully intend on slaking my thirst in your blood and taking my fill in our fight. And should the opportunity arise?

I’ll leave you in there, still starving.”