Bastyn is passing in and out of consciousness, hoping that his body will finally gives up and he will be saved from the inhuman pain of torture in the seclusion of his warren. But his immortal body does suffer a lot before this happens. And so the poor merchant witnesses how his skin is skillfully torn off in front of his terrified ship-crew. One crew member is then picked up by the slave-drivers and forced to dress it. Through the red mist Bastyn sees how the skin wearer the takes a knife and starts methodically, with a doctor;s precision to torture him.
Finally, exhausted, immortal body falls numb, and Bastyn finds himself in his warren. It seems unussually empty, only a black mist whirling on the ground. Suddenly somebody whispers in to his ear:
“Give up. Bastyn, it is enough”.
The merchant recognizes his black tentacled demom.
“Give up, stay in the silver labyrinths, newer return to the waking world”, whispers the voice.
“But what will happen to my body?”
“I will take a good care of it, I waited for it for so long, I deserve it”.
“But what will happen to me?”
“You? You will forever stay in the silver labyrinth, lost, but safe from your enemies and from your so called friends. Why would you want to return there? Humans hunt you, Devas torture you, there is nothing for you but pain.”
“No”, answers the Immortal.
“Fine… fine… then I want half of your body and I will help you.”
“What does that mean for me?”
“Well, what you touch will be mine, and how you will be seen will be mine also. Accept this offer, you will not have any other choice.”
“Let it be so.”
“Let it be so”, repeats the demon and wraps Bastyn in to a sheet of darkness.
Zalyanitha drenches her thirst by drinking from the flask that The Blue-Eyed-Deva-Creature gave her and then realizes that it is not a water she is drinking, but blood. Soon she discovers the source of her refreshment – Guntur lies on the ground with his throat slit, gushing the last drops of his lifehood.
“There are only two things that can quench a thirst in the madlands”, the Blue Eyed one speaks, “Moonsilver and Blood, and who would drink the Moonsilver when it’s so plenty and blood is so scarce?”
Zalyanitha ignores her ad tries to rescue Guntur, but his life is leaving him fast, and all that Deva can do is to comfort him and to say the last goodbyes. Finally she lies down the limp body and asks:
“Who is the one wants to see me?”
“But the Mad one, of course.”
Silently Zalyanitha gathers her belongings and sets of to the white towers dotting the horizon in the east, passing the city that she sees in front of her.
Rakshavyadha finds himself travelling alone through a red labyrinth that seemed to be gnawed by the winds in to a sandstone. It seemed that it does not have beginning nor the end, just endless corridors winding, looping intersecting and dividing. Even the tireless body of hunter Deva was starting to feel exhausted, and the endless wandering without a knowledge if one is progressing or just walking in circles, was not helping his mood either.
But unexpectedly the tunnel had abruptly ended, opening in to a colossal crater. Its bottom, far down was hidden in to a blackness, blackness that moved. Rakshavyadha could she as a huge, serpent-like body had risen from it, stretched dark winds and plunged back in to the abyss. And then deva realized that his own pattern is separating from his own body, lagging behind in the air for some time after he moves, and just after while, lazily repeating the movement of it’s host.
“This is what you help to bring to this world”, the familiar voice sounds from behind.
Rakshavyadha turns around and sees the veiled figure blocking his retreat.
“That’s what you say, and this is what the Mad One tells you”, retorts Hunter.
“Perhaps, but this is what I believe, I do also believe that you carry something form the Wild One.”
“I do, but this I will bring to the Mad One, it does not concern you”, replies Rakshavyadha scaning the situayion for the possibilities of attack and defence and noticing that Blue Eyed one is hiding her left hand behind her back.
“In that case, Your death will be a my apology for the master, for leaving him”, in an failed attempt of surprise she jumps at the Rakshavyadha with a dagger blade shimering in her hand.
The blade misses her mark and devas clinch in to a deadlock.
“For killing You, I will be forgiven”, manages to shout the assailant, before the iron grip of Rakshavyadha’s left hand seizes her face.
Short but desperate struggle ceases with a whet crush, when the scull in the metal grip shatters. Deva tosses the lifeless body in to the crater, where it slides and rolls down until a dark, serpent-like spawn of abyss swallows it and disappears in to a blackness.
Rakshavyadha turns around and walks in to a sandstone tunnel, which quickly leads him to a peacefully looking valley with a suspiciously normal looking city peacefully situated at the bottom of it. Deva puts the trophy dagger between the plaits of his furs and walks towards the city.