[Faust]

Faust sat, back resting against a withered tree, content. The empty city now lived once more. He was no longer alone. And so Faust sat, void of motivation, and felt the world pass him by. The chiming of enslaved souls filled his ears.

A god has died, Faust. A god has died and left these realms bereft. But he is not gone, no. Too mighty was ancient Braen, fell, scheming Braen. Somewhere, his spirit drifts, healing, biding, and waiting. Find it.

The words drifted across Faust's mindscape, echoed through the hundred dead voices now adding their lonely song to Kel’ryl’s majestic ruin. Braen. This was his task, now. He must find the disgraced lord of the Corrupt, for such was Ryuko's will. Failure was impossible. His God commanded, and Faust obeyed.

Shuddering with memory, he pulled himself up, willing away the images that invaded his mind. He could not think of them now, he must continue on. He could not fail.

Stepping through shadow, Faust appeared in a battered library, an old sanctuary of one of the few Braen-cults that had taken root on Quesaria. Books, scrolls, and charts were scattered across the uneven floor. Chairs and tables lay toppled and destroyed.

Paying no heed to these obstacles, Faust made his way to a battered spell-circle carved into the center of the library, the edges blackened by ancient, festering magicks. Crimson sigils flared to life as Faust's power surged outward, dark swirling mist settling around him as eerie light filled the once-grand chamber. With a settling breath, he began the summoning.

"I invoke thee, Braen. Bridge the gap between the stars and answer my call. Come, shade!"

Blistering light erupted from the runes, raising smoke from the stone. A nonexistent wind tore through the library, scattering sheets of dust. Sudden darkness pooled in the circle, its shape only a vague suggestion of the Corrupt King's presence. Faust's breath came short and quick as he snapped the circle closed, sealing in the mass of shadows.

"Braen," Faust whispered as the shade settled into its prison.

"Braen you say? Who is this Braen you speak of? Not I, surely!" Came the cackling reply.

Faust stood, black mist surrounding him still, lips pressed in a thin line as the trapped soul raved at him. "You are Braen! Disgraced god of Vandykir!" he snarled in answer. He stood upon the threshold of the circle, enraged by this unpredicted development. How was he supposed to glean answers from this mad, broken thing?

Faust snapped back to attention as Braen's laughter suddenly stopped. "Ryuko..." hissed in shadows, "blunt monster with uncounted heads!" Insane fires burned in the miasma.

"My God has need of your service," Faust growled. “You will obey, willing or no.”

The darkness stilled for a moment, menacing silence, and then with startling clarity, Braen gave his answer. "You will have what you seek Ryuko, but at a price! My freedom for the key, Dragon King. My resurrection!" Fell laughter shook the library, shaking shelves and tumbling books.

"You will strike no bargains. Wretch! Failure! You are impotent, helpless! My power binds you. Your destiny is your condemnation. He shall crush you beneath his draconian heel – again and again! There will be no peace, no hope of mercy. This is your eternity, Braen. Feel it. The fingers of power gripping your spine, your worthless, battered soul helpless in his hand! You are owned!" Darkness raged, echoes of the dead god's power hammering at the boundary. To no avail.

"I'd rather feel his jaws about my throat! I serve no one! Let him devour me, if he is so mighty!" Braen's magic lashed out again, uselessly. "Release me!" he shrieked. “He will not do this! I will not allow it!"

A chair exploded behind Faust as he tightened his hold on the pathetic spirit. This flagrant blasphemy would end. Braen struggled with all his remaining strength, desperate with panic, but he was weak. Prey.

Yes, lord. He will serve us well.