ASHIRTA PLOT TWIST

"What have you become??" she hisses, choking and struggling under the weight of your foot against her throat. Her hair - a deep, sickly green - splays out in the empty depths behind her, drifting as though she's underwater.

"You already know the answer to that," you answer her coldly. "I've become a killer. Just like you wanted me to be." You press your foot a little harder - she flails and starts trying to bat at your leg, rather ineffectively. She's not much of a fighter without her knife. "As for your arm, I don't owe you anything. I told you not to come along, and you did."

"What was I [i]supposed[/i] to do?!" she spits out. A wicked grin crosses her face. "You told me to come along, [i]captain[/i]." She uses the word derisively. You know where it comes from.

You ignore her clear mocking insult and point out, "I didn't tell you to get into a fight with [i]exactly[/i] the same people I told you to avoid. You were always a little crazy... I liked that about you. But, if you won't work with me... well... that won't work at all."

She hears the death threat in your voice. She says nothing.

"We'll find someone to ... 'donate' an arm for you. What do you say?"

Quickly, with a display of her strength, the woman twists under your leg, stikes you hard in the back of the knee, and throws you off of her as she leaps to her feet. She glares at you, glowering. "I don't need your favors," she whispers. "You abandoned me. Didn't want me along on your little revenge trip? Thought I should just stay behind?" She chokes and spits a mouthful of blood onto a patch of snow, and resumes her bloody-toothed sneer. "Fukc you, Hema. Fukc you to the nine hells. I wish I'd never met you." She folds her arms in front of herself, glaring. You hear a tinkling noise in the distance - she hears it too, and the fury in her eyes disappears as she looks behind her in surprise, whispering, "Wind chimes...?"

Dawn breaks over the horizon. Brilliant beams of light stretch out over the vast, empty plain, flat as paper and devoid of life. It's the first light this universe has ever seen. Rather than be enraptured by its beauty, you feel the very earth recoil in horror and disgust. A heart enshrouded in darkness will always long to remain so.

But that won't stop the light's encroachment.

"Hema, what is this?" Ashirta whispers, wonderstruck at the shining display. Her hair drifts behind her lightly in the air, not too unlike one of the feathery vines native to Omicron. You suddenly realize something is different. The woman turns around, and you see not the battle-scarred face of your former comrade, but the peaceful, innocent expression of that hungry, impressionable girl you met so many years ago... before you drew her into your quest for revenge, warping her personality forever.

You feel a momentary pang of guilt... a pang that soon buries itself with anger. Why should you feel guilty? The little beggared girl had practically worshipped you when you "rescued" her from the gutter. You turned her into a killer, and she got exactly what she thought she wanted: your respect.

Except she never had it, did she? You used her. You made her your tool.