Cylin was trembling because of the fear that had enveloped her heart. She had seen them, the Hollow Gods, the Pathari Saar. They had touched her soul and reshaped her body. She was not just blessed, like those who carried the seed. In time she would not turn into a mindless husk that existed only to produce further seeds to be bestowed on the worthy, she had been truly blessed by them. At least that’s how she would have seen it, before meeting with the foreigners.

However, she was not a fool anymore. This was no blessing; it was a curse and she was nothing more than a sacrifice. The Hollow Gods did not give their gifts freely. And to be made perfect meant that this was the end. Soon, They would come for her and the others, Cylin was sure of it. Her new tribe had realised it as soon as they awoke, and shook the sluggishness that had enveloped their minds. She had been the only one who had been confused and didn’t know what to do, pacing aimlessly while waiting for the inevitable. But how else was she supposed to feel, Cylin wondered as she stared into the curious large box that caught her attention.

It was like nothing she had seen. It was all metal and crystals. Intricate sigils and runes shone brightly on its surface. It was the only thing keeping her sane at this very moment. Conflicting thoughts and ideas were racing inside her head, and if she concentrated hard enough, Cylin believed she could put them in order. But without examining this divine item, she feared that she would not have the strength to do so, and instead would have to accept what had happened in Scoria-Tria.

The last thing she remembered was the backlash. Her spell had turned against her and had overpowered her. She had killed all those people; she had killed the child… The emotions swelled inside of her and demanded release. She could feel her gift like she had never felt it before. It was raw and powerful and she knew how to use it. At least she hoped she knew. Knowledge and experience were too different things, after all, she knew how to use a knife to kill, but all attempts had resulted in punishment.

Cylin almost jumped as a hand slowly embraced her shoulder. Tears formed in her eyes and fell down her cheeks and she began to shake. She had no idea how much she needed the touch of another at this moment.

“Restrain.” She heard Nadene’s soft whisper and felt her warm breath on her ear. “You are losing control and right now is the worst time to do so.”

“I’m sorry…” The girl turned to face the mage and had to suppress her gasp. “Your eyes…”

“Do not worry about them. I can see so much more now.” Nadene forced a smile on her thin lips.

“They are different from ours,” Cylin said failing at not staring in the two red orbs. “Are mine the same?” She wanted to check her reflection again to make sure, but could not look away from the mage.

“It was the backlash. I had to take the brunt of it, to save you and it took my eyes.” The woman removed her hand, sliding her finger along Cylin’s shoulder, up her neck and chin.

“I’m sorry…” She wanted to say more, but how does one apologise for something like that.

“And you should be,” Nadene’s words cut like a knife through her soul. “I would have been blind once I woke up.”

The mage came closer and ran her hand along the girl’s face. Clasping it, as a lover would. “Did you know, I should have been a Master in the Hester Academy. The control I had over my gift was the envy of all the mages… But I lacked the raw power which you possess.”

Cylin stood frozen on the spot. The two red eyes had captured her guilt and would not let her go. She could feel cold fingers grasp her heart and squeeze it tight, while her stomach became tighter than a knot.

“I was supposed to be a mage of legends; however, I was not strong enough and my foes made sure to use this against me. On the day I was meant to receive my staff, the guards came for me with orders to have me hanged, drowned and quartered. I was meant to have a traitor’s death.”

Nadene embraced her and moved even closer until all Cylin could see were her eyes. There was sadness in her voice as she continued to speak in a hushed tone.

“You see, my peers had me framed for the murder of one of the instructors, my lover so that they could get rid of me. They were greedy and ruthless, craving the honour I had worked so hard for.” The mage paused for a moment and stared into Cylin’s eyes.

“Don’t misunderstand, my hands were covered in much blood by that point. Murder was and still is the fastest way one could advance in the Academy. I had control, yes, but they had the power of numbers on their side. If not for Regis, I would have been dead three times over. He gave me a way out, a way to grow and advance, outside of the small world I thought ended with the walls of Hester. I became one of the pack. And you nearly took it away from me with your foolishness.”

Cylin could feel the woman’s nails biting into her flesh, but she could not move, the guilt she felt had grown and cold tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Without eyes, I wouldn’t have a place among the Slayers. There would have been nothing left for me but to accept Zakaar’s kiss.” Nadene pulled away and smiled. It was a dangerous smile, one that chilled the girl.

“You are really lucky young Cylin. Whatever your gods did to us, undid the damage you caused. Now I can see in a way that defies explanation.” Before the mage turned to walk away and join in the pillaging of the cavern, she added. “Misstep and you die, my apprentice.”

As soon as Nadene moved away, Cylin felt weakness both in her very soul and her body. She trembled and wanted to fall on the floor, but her new tribe had made it clear they would not tolerate weakness. Whatever the Hollow Gods had done to the mage, it had a terrible effect on Cylin. It took her a moment to realise that Nadene had syphoned her power, feeding on it through touch and masking the act with the guilt the girl felt. She had feared and respected Nadene in equal measure, but now, the former member of the Nahar tribe could say that she was utterly terrified of what the woman had become, of what she had seen in those eyes, devoid of compassion.

However, a part of her felt exhilarated about being acknowledged as the woman’s apprentice. Cylin might have preferred to follow the path of the shamans, as she was meant to do before these people took it all away from her. But there was no denying the power the path of the mage was offering her. It should have been obvious, her slow progress under Chattala, and her inability to master the teachings he provided. But if not for her new tribe, the pack as they preferred to call themselves, she would never know that such a thing as mages existed. Cylin would embrace this new calling and all it had to offer, and if the Pathari Saar had cast her into obscurity, it was time to truly renounce them and embrace the Deposed Gods her new tribe worshipped.

“I would not smile in such a way, after crossing Nadene,” Sarduk had approached her without her realising.

“I was…” Cylin stopped, her eyes opening wide and her jaw dropping. “I understand you! I understood her! I speak your tongue!”

“Aye, you did. As did I you.” The shaman nodded. “The change has given us much, but I wonder what it will cost.” He added in the tongue of Scoria, the tongue of her people.

It took her a moment to realise he had switched to it, her mind struggling to keep up with all the minor changes and the tremendous impact they were having on her life.

“My apologies, spirit-walker. It was disrespectful of me to address you in such a way.” She lowered her head and made to drop on her knees, but was stopped by the shaman. In all of the confusion, Cylin had forgotten her place.

“You do not kneel.” There was hardness in his voice. “You are one of us. Now hold still.”

Sarduk took a small piece of broken crystal. He dipped it into the thick black blood of the dead god, he had gathered inside the broken remains of the sphere it had carried. Nimbly Sarduk traced the mark of Harthasia, bellow her breast. Cylin felt comfort at having the Deposed God Charr decorating her skin, even if the others worshipped her under a different name. It represented she was a part of the Slayers, despite what she had done and who she had been, she was accepted by them. Given time she might come to a proper conclusion about the connection between Charr and Harthasia, but for now, it was enough to forget her past and use this new life.

The commotion at the cavern’s entrance snapped her back to the reality of the current predicament they all faced. They needed to escape, arm themselves and exact revenge for what had been done to them. Just a few moments ago, Cylin would have thought such a thing blasphemy, but the dead and butchered god was proof the Slayers could achieve it. Master Regis was right, they had become Godslayers.

“What are they trying to do?” The girl gave Sarduk a quizzical glance, trying to direct his attention away from the lunatic smile that had spread on her lips. “It would be best to have Mistress Nadene or I break the door. Or you, spirit-walker!” She added quickly, fearing to have caused yet another offence.

The shaman shook his head in disappointment. “It will take time, but you will learn. We are all equal under Regis.”

“Those without the gift, often forget about what can be achieved through it.” Detachment written on his face as he explained to her. “But it cannot be used whenever one wills it. You have learned this lesson.”

“The backlash….” The word dropped heavy from her lips.

“It is the curse of the mages.” The shaman placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, and Cylin’s face flushed red, as she remembered she was as naked as everyone else.

“The ways of the shaman may use the same source, I understand that now, but the teachings are very different. A shaman would never know the cruel touch of the backlash for we change our very minds to respect the great powers we can wield.” A hint of a pained smile appeared on his face. “Unlike those who walk the path of the mage, shamans focus on healing and protecting the body and mind and do destruction and violence second.”

“It is why Nadene forgave your mistake,” Sarduk’s voice became a soft whisper clouded by regret. “Soon after she joined the Slayers, she lost control. The backlash killed the previous mage when he tried to help her. I hope that you’ll never understand how powerless I felt then. The feeling of watching a close friend be turned inside out in front of your very eyes. I realised it at that moment, that for all I learned and read, I did not understand the terror that was the backlash, and why my friend feared so much.”

A shadow settled on Sarduk’s face, and the girl could read the pain in his eyes, as he continued. “I watched him die a death no man should experience, but it wasn’t only that. The backlash, it goes both ways, it also poisoned her insides. It was only because of Till’s skill that Nadine survived at all.”

“That is horrible.” Cylin managed to stop herself from gasping.

“It is inevitable. Arrogance and magic are close lovers, never forget that.” He gave her a stern look. “Back then, I voted to have her killed for her foolishness. Given the same choice, I would do so again. And you should remember this lesson, there are no good people among the twenty. We are all thieves, traitors, murderers or worse.” At the last, his eyes stopped on Os.

“But I am… was, just a slave…” The excuse came from her unbidden.

“No. You are the same as us.” Sarduk said coldly. “You betrayed your people. You condemned them all to death, the moment you gave Regis what he wanted. It is only because of the Second that you are here and...”

“Foolish animals.” A cold voice boomed through the cavern, interrupting the shaman. “Did you think you can do as you please? Do you think your insignificant act of defiance will go unpunished?”

They all recognised the voice. It was one of the Hollow Gods, but the creature was nowhere to be seen. Sarduk pushed Cylin at the circle the group had formed.

Regis laughed and shook his head, unfazed by the voice. “We are your punishment, brought forth by your arrogance!”

“So much potential… It matters not. You will submit.” The emotionless voice trailed off before roaring with anger. “You will be ours!”

With a hiss the door opened. Beyond it was a long bright-lit corridor covered in the purest white marble any of them had ever seen. It was wide enough for four people to stand shoulder by shoulder and ended at a T-shaped junction a few hundred meters ahead.

“Our leader is the worst of us.” The shaman whispered in Cylin’s ear. “And each one of us owns him a debt that can never be repaid.”

“Be ready for an ambush,” Regis spoke low. “Move forward, breach formation.”

Cylin observed as Martell and the others took their places. She had to admit, the man had his charm, but she could not help but hate him. He had made her his slave. Despite the fact he had never abused her, the girl could not stop feeling that there was something sinister hidden behind his kindness.

The shaman dragged her by the arm and forced her in the middle of the group, between himself and Nadene. Cylin could see that her two mentors were preparing for combat, their eyes glued to the end of the corridor. She wanted to join them, prove her worth, but she felt uncertain what she was supposed to do. At best, she would be a nuisance, and at worst, she could foil their spells with one of her own.

“Stay close and follow my commands,” Nadene’s cold voice sent shivers down her spine.

“It would be best to keep away from the Second,” Sarduk added.

“I…” Cylin wanted to explain, but was interrupted by the mage.

“We all have seen how you look at him. We are not blind.” The last word struck as a hot iron as it was meant to.

“Mar is dangerous. He and Inney were by Regis’ side from before the Slayers were formed. There is a reason he is kept as Second in command…” Sarduk continued but stopped talking after receiving a withering look from Nadene.

“Incoming enemies. Shields up. Spears ready. We take the charge.” They heard Martell’s loud voice clad in cold fury.

The others heard the sound of heavy feet drumming towards them a moment later. Cylin’s heart stopped for a second as she saw the deformed wave of orcs spill from the sides of the junction up ahead.

“Neth’ra.” The word came unbidden as the girl instinctively reached for the charm that no longer hung around her neck. 

“Speak, quickly!” Regis loomed over her, having appeared seemingly from nowhere.

“Neth’ra – the blessed dead. Bedtime monsters to scare children, they are the monstrous champions of the gods sent out to punish the wicked and heretics.” Cylin’s words came out nearly as a single long word.

“It will be suicide to take the charge.” Nadene nearly screamed at their leader and pointed at Martell who was preparing to move.

“Do something about it!” Regis barked at her.

The mage spread out her arm pointing at the other Slayers and hissed back at him. “They are in my way.”

“Bend the knee!” The leader of the mercenaries roared.

As one the men and women in front of him dropped to the ground. Cylin was amazed at the complete lack of hesitation on their part. The trust they had in their commander was absolute and rivalled that which she used to have in her gods. Without wasting a moment, Nadene mumbled the words to her spell. A wall of ice spikes formed in the small space before her and the area above the heads of her comrades. With a gesture, she sent the deadly projectiles flying faster than any arrow could.

Everything was happening so fast and so slow at the same time, it made Cylin question if it was not a dream. The bodies of the dead orcs had barely hit the cold marble floor when Nadene conjured lightning in her hands. Sarduk joined her and threw a freshly carved bone charm into the air. As soon as the spell touched the small fetish it changed and a trio of large ball lightnings struck the orcs. This was devastation on a scale the girl had never seen before. Once more she was amazed at how quickly her two mentors adapted to one another, complimenting their individual spells in a way she would never have thought possible.

“Death to the Hollow Gods!” Regis cried at the top of his lungs and charged at the wounded and confused monsters.

“That idiot!” Cylin heard Till curse from behind her. “Those fucking idiots!” The apothecary could not contain his anger as he saw that almost half the mercenaries followed after Regis.

The advantage the group had at the start of the battle was lost within seconds as their improvised weapons broke after the first swing. Cylin was about to go and help when new pain blossomed in her head. She felt as if something was trying to burst from her skull. Both Nadene and Sarduk followed her to the ground, clutching their heads and moaning in agony.

“Behind… Them… Kill…” The shaman managed to say through clenched teeth.

“Sig! Os! Go!” Till order as the highest-ranking member of the mercenaries.

Without words, the two men run past him at neck-breaking speed. As if they had rehearsed it beforehand, both of them grabbed a bar mace from the nearest to them dead orc and went for the kill. In a single hit, Sigismund decapitated the monster that was killing Martell. And on the other side of the corridor, Os shoved his weapon through the heart of the one that had just caved in Dominique’s skull.

Cylin observed it all through tearful eyes as the pain increased. The girl was the first to see the new monster and wanted to scream. She recognised the man almost immediately – the butcher Vor. He was the source of the pain. The Hollow Gods had made him into one of the Neth’ra. She lost all will for battle with the pain burning inside her mind, and in its place was left only the thought that they were truly cursed. In the end, the Hollow Gods had come to claim their dues.