Chapter 2: A Path Revealed

A single crimson light enveloped the dark pit, signifying the birth of a being filled with malice. The metallic form twitched and shuttered as its voice began to whisper inaudible phrases. Salem's machine was learning to talk, as it stared at its creator with a curious eye. Eventually, a single word escaped the machine as its voice took form.

"M-Mother."

Its head tilted with curiosity, eager to receive approval. Salem answered with tears as her vulnerability became apparent. She had spent far too much time alone and had grown quite feeble when it came to communication. Time had allowed Salem to forget what it meant to be vulnerable. It was all too easy to hide behind isolation and misery for years, leaving her defenseless against her own emotions.

"Yes, Yes I am," she sniffled, losing her composure.

The machine's voice was deep, raspy, and dull. Its tone was akin to a broken radio, with static enveloping each word as it tried its best to speak. But sure enough, the thing she named Anger was a swift learner as it grasped onto the words in its mind and formed a larger phrase.

"Are you well?" Anger asked in a smoother voice, his black-tinted body taking a more confident stance.

"I never was," Salem chuckled, as she began to relax.

Sensing its mother was near death, Anger cradled the fallen girl without a moment of hesitation. It knew why it was made, and why its objective was of the utmost importance. Salem had underestimated the lengths to which her secret benefactor had programmed the machine. It knew things she did not, such as her own critical condition.

Yet another rain of tears began to pour from the girl's eyes as she fully realized the magnitude of grace. For the first time in her life, help was offered unconditionally. Care, compassion, and love had been given in the chasm she had planned to die in.

The machine paused, before patting its mother on the head in an attempt to soothe her. Salem's sobbing then turned into laughter and joy, fueled by her sense of appreciation. After years of being forced into every kind of pain, she had finally begun to understand.

"Look at you," Salem marveled as she felt her child with her ruined hand.

Anger stared curiously at Salem's trembling limb. Although born only moments ago, the machine had already witnessed some of life's most grueling truths. The sight of its mother quivering pitifully.

"You must leave this place. Your health is poor," Anger explained as he pointed to Salem's legs. "You are like me?"

Salem's rather gruesome replacements were less beautiful in the eyes of another. What beauty could be remarked about her white skin was now gone from the knees down. Her graceful step had been reduced to a painful limp, and what little remained of her nerves were tarnished.

"I'm quite alright. I like it really, it suits me now," Salem whispered as her voice began to fade.

Placing its mother on a soft pile of cords, Anger began to take in his surroundings. He knew nothing of Glacia and Peruvia, not that it mattered to him. His own common sense would dictate his next action.

"You've fallen in a pit," Anger spoke to himself as Salem fell unconscious. "Very well then."

Grabbing his mother in one arm, Anger began to claw his way out of the chasm, his immense strength and sharp nails making quick work of the sheer cliffs. Not for a moment did he tire or hesitate. All of Peruvia was irrelevant compared to his mother.

Due to Salem's rather long fall, the machine had quite the climb ahead of him. His journey would take him through many caverns and divots, filled with the frozen dead. Some appeared in his own likeness while others took the shape of humans, their faces concealed in the ice. But as always, none of it concerned him.

Most sane minds would question the existence of the mass grave or the haunting corpses that inhabited it. But as Anger navigated the winding chasm, he thought of nothing. Only after reaching what felt like the shallow center of the pit did he pause.

He had been unconcerned before, but the clear faces of those who piled in the center cautioned his senses. They looked just like his mother. Only now did the machine observe his surroundings with greater care.

Not realizing Salem had tumbled quite a distance from the chasm's edge, Anger found himself face-to-face with a mountain of ageless bodies. Their hair and bodies were silky white, with fair faces and perfect figures. They were just as beautiful as his mother, only she was the only one alive.

Looking up towards the now-visible sky, Anger could see an endless blanket of darkness shrouding the stars. He would have taken caution if there was more time. But he knew his mother wouldn't sleep forever. Eventually, she would awake in great pain. Casting aside his doubts Anger began to climb the mountain of bodies with frightening speed.

Some time would pass before Anger would reach the top of the mound. The pile of bodies had been stacked so high they could be seen escaping the surface and rising up towards the clouds. It was a horrifying sight to behold, a monument to death and war.

Anger was perhaps the only child born of Glacia to see this haunted relic. But as always, he cared little. Spotting sturdier ground, Anger lept from the bodies and onto a soft sheet of snow. The action proved rough enough to rouse Salem from her slumber.

"Where-," she mumbled as her half-opened eyes stared at the peak of the corpse mountain.

"They look like you," Anger replied. "Pale and soft."

"I can't be one of them," Salem frowned, as she continued to envy the bodies. "They got what they wanted. My cursed soul never will.

"You wish to leave the chasm?" Anger added, trying to distract his mother from her misery. "We lie in the center, surrounded by ice."

"The what?" Salem gasped, realizing the peril of their location.

The girl rarely ever trusted the words of humans. But the villagers did not avoid the chasm's center in fear of fables and hearsay. Something was out there, killing anything that came too close.

But just as Salem attempted to warn her child, Anger whispered with caution "Be wary. We aren't alone."

Dozens of invisible outlines then revealed themselves as their mirrored forms created the slightest of shimmers. A crude yet effective cloaking device kept the alien presence unknown until it was far too late. They had come to uphold the law of their land. No visitors were allowed.

It was then that a brilliant flash of light enveloped the girl as she fell to the ground. She had been shot with something she could hardly feel. Anger himself refused to take action, wisely saving his life in the process. Laying dazed and confused, Salem gazed upon the shocking image before her. Several machines surrounded her weakened form, their bodies identical to that of her son. And despite their menacing apparel, it was clear their surprise equaled that of the subdued.

_________________________________

"Tell me, brother, upon what cruel day do we imprison our own kind and harm our creators."

"Their will is our command Kalar, and as knights, we must obey. do not forget that."

"And to what extent? We stand amidst their graves and speak of loyalty?"

Salem's captors spoke with concern as they walked along a hidden path. Their orders were to return the pale girl to their makers. As for Anger, their confusion towards him was immense. They had no contingency for such an anomaly. All they could do was argue and lament as they carried Salem across the tundra toward their concealed home.

One great machine remained compassionate and reasonable, while his more brash counterpart preferred to clear his mind of rebellious thought. It was a humble and unimaginably important debate. Whatever they decided would seal Salem's fate, one way or the other.

The knights were a squad of nine, each bearing an uncanny resemblance to Anger. Salem was certain of their likeness the moment they laid their singular eyes on her. It was quite the revelation for the poor girl. Never had she expected the great sentries of Glacia to be those same machines lost in the chasm.

"Might he be a deserter? Kalor?" The kind brother asked.

"Never. No Valekry is capable of such dishonor. He has been remade, without a shadow of a doubt."

"By the gods, few of our creators possess such skill, how can this be? We must protect her then if she is capable of such marvels."

Kalar's silver armor glistened in the snow as he relayed his commands. Despite receiving lecture after lecture from his brother, he was given the squad leader's role and held command over most of Glacia's defense. His adamant opinions were clear, but he was still open to the criticism of others. He had always believed such a thing to be the sign of a well-bred leader.

"We shall keep our own, investigate the error within him," Kalor motioned as the team neared a black sheet of metal lighting the path. "Do not attempt to save her."

The brother, Kalor, chose to decorate himself with a bright orange pauldron, the sign of the Honor Guard. It was the symbol of royalty and command, which he cherished dearly. Indeed he preferred to obey his creators with little question.

Yet neither of the two was fond of the task at hand. It was an annoyance to be sure, and one that no Valekry was willing to tolerate. Eventually, they had taken Salem towards a snow-covered plate of black steel, its surface emanating a bright red light upon detecting the Valekry's presence. Soon enough a sleek silver ship headed their voiceless call and descended from the dark cloud.

The hull of the ship was shaped like a blade, with sharp edges at both front and rear. Its engines appeared invisible, unlike most craft, with its noise barely reaching a hum. The Valekry preferred these vessels, small and swift in the sky. It was a symbol of their technological superiority and knightly apparel. To celebrate this fact, a crimson pattern could be seen streaking across the bow of the ship, its shape elegantly presenting the Valekry symbol of war.

"We deliver her, then retreat. I do not wish to experience what comes next," the silver machine sighed.

"That makes two of us."

The bottom of the vessel then opened above them, releasing a circular gravity lift surrounded by gentle waves of red energy. Despite their weight, every last Valekry would gently ascend to their ship upon stepping in the light. Once inside their crimson vessel, each machine would take upon its assigned role. The brothers would safeguard the girls, while the rest would oversee Anger's interrogation.

The interior of the Valekry ship was quite unlike the outside, its narrow corridors appearing ornate and busy. Black steel and gold would line these oval-shaped walls, with intricate patterns built throughout. Whoever commanded the knights seemed to care greatly for art and expression.

By the time Salem could properly witness the alien grandeur, she had already been delivered to the Valekry's maker. A painful sting then shot across her back as she was placed on a cold steel table, its surface proving harsher than even the icy tundra. Salem attempted to escape only to realize her body was still severely disabled by the previous attack.

A high-pitched, yet sinister voice called out to the machines. "How hard did you hit her you, buffoons! She seems paralyzed!"

"We are not armed with gentler weapons your grace," Kalar responded as he turned to leave the room.

"I suppose that's true. The little witch is lucky her face isn't blown apart. That would be quite a shame wouldn't it," the stranger continued as she began to admire Salem's beauty.

Still able to move her head, Salem snapped her gaze towards a gold stairwell in the distance. It would appear she had been placed in the largest room on the vessel, with a wide open laboratory decorated with several bookshelves and a small balcony beyond the staircase. Unlike the Valekry's strong metal hallways, Salem's new prison was more colorful and flawed, with custom pink drapes and red carpet placed about in a more organic touch. It was obvious the Valekry did not require the soft chairs and fragile tea sets strewn about the room, indicating Salem was soon to meet their makers.

Laying still in a mix of disgust and awe, Salem stared in the direction of her captor, who seemed rather sluggish in her arrival. As the pale stranger stepped down from her golden steps she smiled in awkward confusion. She was rather accustomed to relaxing evenings in her workroom, basking in knowledge and entertaining herself with tea and books.

The true life of the girl was rather evident to Salem, who was fresh from the harsh surface of Peruvia. Those who made the Valekry were less benevolent gods and more so spoiled children, curiously experimenting with their surroundings while never risking a thing in the lands below. Or at the very least, that's how Salem began to judge the girl.

The witch wasn't particularly annoyed before that moment. But now, she was positively infuriated. Salem did her best to hide her disgust as she continued to monitor the more privileged girl in the room. At first glance, she nothing short of harmless, a dainty little thing with bright pink eyes and pale skin. But Salem was not so easily deceived by the innocent figure.

She knew this was no shipmaster's daughter. That pink dress was in fact a symbol of authority. The girl was the one in charge. Salem was entirely convinced of this, years of experience have taught her what power does to a woman's smile.

"Hello!" the girl grinned exactly how Salem predicted. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Pyri, and I am Tella. Those machines outside are Valekry. Do you know of these things?"

As the girl spoke, she became more enamored by Salem with each second that passed. It was impossible to verify what she was, or why she was alive. The only thing she knew for real was the beauty of her captive.

"Tell me, what is your name?" She mumbled in a monotone voice. "We Tella have a way of naming our offspring you see. If you are really one of us, that should help prove it."

Salem remained silent. She had seen enough of her captor's kind, and that it was better to say nothing. Any engagement would only make things worse.

"I will make this as simple as can be. If you are one of us you are free to go. Us Tella don't exactly imprison one another like dogs. But refuse to tell me anything and well..."

Again, Salem's mouth was shut. But it wasn't long before the Tella's patience was spent, causing her to casually press a finger against her palm. From seemingly nowhere Salem felt an intense shock as if the air itself was ordered to attack. The Tella smiled once more, before pointing towards her hand in a threatening gesture. Recognizing how easily she could be harmed, Salem decided to speak.

"If I knew...even just a smidge of who I was...I would have never come to this forsaken place."

The Tella named Pyri then stood still in dazed confusion. Nothing was adding up for her. All she could do now was cope with her own ignorance.

"A fake," She stammered. "Just a copy! You're a machine. Or a real girl, without a soul. A beating heart with no air to breathe. What are you!" The girl cried as she pressed a finger against her palm yet again.

"Does it matter?" Salem growled as she endured another shock.

"Yes!" I have to know! It's my job to bring back beautiful things from the surface you see!" The girl ranted, exposing far too much information in her panicked state. "If I show up with a beautiful girl like you the others will ask where you came from, and how to find more. Without an answer, I'll look like an idiot. They'll get someone else to find more pretty girls who look like us!"

"Jealous?" Salem joked, realizing how exotic she must have seemed to the Tella.

"Uncontrollably so," the vermin growled as she began to claw at Salem's skin. "If your not Tella...then that means something on this disgusting planet we've stayed clear of has something as beautiful as us! And that cannot be allowed."

To the captor's dismay, Salem produced no pleasurable screams as she began to bleed. Her tolerance to any sort of pain was unrivaled. But as she lay in her silent torment, a certain child of hers began to plan his next move. Anger would not be so easily dissuaded from taking action. He still had a mother to save.

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Anger sat patiently in the vessel's hanger, his back resting against an oddly shaped crate as he watched the other machines argue. He could stare out into space from his seat, calmly pretending to be ignorant. But in truth, nothing escaped his gaze. Anger saw it all; the little red lights that surrounded the opening of the ship, the diamond-shaped floor, and the bright silver lights that illuminated the curved halls. He might have been impressed by the Valekry's splendor if not for his unyielding sense of duty. Salem was nowhere to be seen, and as long as that remained true, he would not rest.

Despite their technological mastery and complete dominance over the situation, the Valekry seemed to act defeated. Never before were they faced with such a complex task, causing them to be greatly conflicted. Protocol dictated they kill the stray Valekry and leave Salem to their mistress. But there was a contradiction in logic that could not be ignored. The very reason they were made was to protect those who looked like Salem, and they had no way of proving she was anything but a Tella. If she was indeed a lost member of their creators, that would make her child Anger a loyal Valekry. Even the slim chance of killing the innocent was unacceptable to them.

The connection between servant and maker was at that time, strained at best. The Valekry did not feel they could trust the Tella's judgment in this affair, their own personal honor superseding their feelings of loyalty. Such a tenuous scenario would require careful planning from the knights.

In an attempt to prove themselves more reasonable, the Valekry chose to ponder the situation to great extent. Once they had begun their rather lengthy debate they would pace about the hangar and ignore their duties, a detail that Anger took would take notice of. Salem's child cared little for the whims and wishes of others, all he really wanted was a weakness to exploit.

"Unacceptable! Absolutely unacceptable!" Kalar proclaimed, pointing toward the direction of Salem.

"I beseech you brother, calm yourself," Kalor groaned.

"That poor girl is being tortured. And for what?!"

"Focus on the task at hand."

"Ah, so him?!" Kalar argued as he directed his gaze towards Anger. "He did his best to protect her, and saved her life by surrendering peacefully."

"You cannot defend a fallen warrior. As is with our tradition, it must be destroyed. Why should we fight without the guarantee of an honorable death? Give it what it truly desires."

Kalar shook his head in disagreement. He did not see the fairness in judging a life based on the possibilities of the past. As to be expected, Anger seemed entirely unphased as he sat on the floor. He would gladly play helpless if it meant he would have a chance at murdering them all.

"Shall we not ask him who he is?" Kalar snapped.

"I...am not one of you," Anger replied

"And what do you claim to be?".

"Her son. Where is my mother?"

"Your mother? Can you not remember who you are? Can you not see your own delusions!" the soft-hearted commander sighed as he slammed his fist against the wall. "Or have you been simply scavenged from the battlefield as a reformed husk?"

The surrounding knights seemed saddened by Anger's plight. It was as if they knew of the son's inevitable fate, and were regretful. But Anger did not understand the concept of pity, nor did he want it.

"I suppose it is a mercy to end him," Kalar lamented as he kneeled beside Anger. "This state of existence is far too twisted to entertain."

"What is a Valekry?" Anger asked with a devious tone. "Are we not all servants to our mothers."

"If only they were as caring as yours," Kalar sighed. "I shall do what must be done."

Anger calmly raised a hand as he whispered to himself, "We all must."

Acting with no remorse, Anger was swift to exploit his opponent's hesitation by snatching their weapon with frightening speed. He had no experience with the alien armament, yet managed to find the trigger and fire with surprising accuracy. By the time Kalar realized he was deceived, it was far too late, forcing him to leap for cover behind the hanger's crates.

The prestigious sidearm Anger attained was shaped like an insect's claw, spewing forth red plasma from its triangular barrel. The volley that followed was erratic yet lethal, catching many of the knights off guard and killing them instantly. Never did they expect a brother to transform from calm and relaxed to murderous and cruel. Without time to activate the personal shields that enveloped their bodies, they stood little chance. Only Kalor was lucky enough to survive, his higher grade of armor deflecting a blast with relative ease.

Having completed his betrayal, Anger soon found himself standing above the dead as he aimed his weapon toward Kalor with the intent to kill.

"No different from the rest brother! He is mad!" Kalor roared as he unsheathed a royal blade composed of solid light.

Realizing his sidearm had overheated into a flaming wreck, Anger tossed aside the pistol and snatched a crimson blade from the ground, its edge gleaming with still energy. He stared at the brothers as if nothing had happened, and watched calmly while the remaining two Valekry regrouped. Those honorable knights would prefer an honest duel and readied their blades to face the crazed child together. Their shock and confusion would not deter their sense of justice, for Anger had committed a grave crime that day. He killed his brethren and was most certainly deserving of death.

"As one," Kalar muttered as he came shoulder to shoulder with his brother. "We've faced his kind before. I was a fool to believe he could have been better."

The Valekry brothers then found themselves battling the crazed machine with a furious passion. And while they fought elegantly with their blades, Anger instead reverted to crude savagery. There was a clear distinction between honor and desperation. Two slaves battled to save themselves and avenge their comrades, while one child sought only to protect its creator.

Anger was no fool, and knew full well he had every right to die at that moment. But to his surprise, he possessed something the others did not; a certain flame of ambition that had been planted within his heart by the scheming flower. Its burning influence guided his body as he struck mindlessly with great skill and strength. At that moment he was just like his mother, entirely reliant on an entity he did not understand. But Anger did not question those wild sensations and simply accepted whatever power churned within him as a gift.

But even with his mother's crimson blessing, Anger was faced with two incredibly skilled combatants. Those two Valekry did not earn their station by some meager birthright, instead, they had won it through blood and death. They would not be so easily struck down by an empowered monster.

"Carefully now brother, get behind it," Kalar calmly requested as he slammed his own blade onto Anger's locking them in together.

The silver Valekry reckoned Anger would pull away or attempt a defensive technique, just like their training suggested. Every spawn of the Tella was educated in the art of swordplay, and its many honorable intricacies. But Anger knew no such rhetoric, and instead resorted to headbutting his opponent like a maddened beast. Kalar reeled back in surprise, his composure only kept intact by the knowledge that his brother would soon arrive.

Just as planned the second Valekry appeared behind Anger, blocking a strike with his orange-colored shoulder and sticking near the arm, causing Anger's blade to be cast aside. But the maddened child seemed unphased by the poor turn of events and used both his arms to toss his opponent aside.

"Don't let him near their weapons," Kalor hissed, picking himself off the floor. "He's quite strong."

"All maddened animals are," Kalar added.

Anger raised his arms for a moment, sluggishly turning his gaze to one of the fallen Valekry. To the brother's delight, there appeared no traditional weapons to be scavenged. But Anger did not care, as he lowered his hand towards the corpse with frightening speed. The Valekry twins looked in shock as Anger casually tore off a leg from their fallen comrades, hoisting the limb upon his shoulder like a great mace.

Anger might have smiled if he could. Something about the blunt heavy weapon felt natural to him, like the sword he held before was nothing more than a toothpick. And sure enough, he proved his favor once he lunged toward Kalor, knocking the knight aside with a spinning strike. The savage display was quite unexpected, leaving Kalor dazed in confusion. Anger then turned his attention to the second brother and unleashed a barrage of attacks in a strange yet rhythmic pattern. Surely he was never taught such an art. Or at least that's what Kalar imagined as he narrowly dodged the attacks.

By the time Anger ended his assault, his favored club had been torn to shreds by the sharp blade of his enemy. But it mattered little to the child, who quickly stepped back to find himself another club. The brothers pursued as fast as they could, one of them sticking at Anger with great force. But the child simply ignored the oncoming damage, grasping onto his opponent's blade and tossing it aside with his scarred hand.

"Do you care that little?" Kalor asked, watching Anger disembody another corpse the moment he had the chance.

In response, Anger merely gestured towards the brothers with their comrade's dead arm, before chucking a head in their direction. He did in fact not care at all. All that mattered was Salem, or so he believed. Deep within him was a slight satisfaction. Anger knew he was no sadist, yet found pleasure in the act of protecting his mother. These were her enemies after all, and he took no issue in killing them all.

But time was of the essence for Salem's child. Every moment he wasted with the brothers could be fatal for the crimson girl. Realizing his dilemma, Anger willingly allowed Kalor's blade to enter his body in a wild gambit. Any machine would have been felled by such a blow, but Anger knew he was no longer constrained by the limitations of his more sane counterparts. And as Kalor assumed victory was his, Anger tore his face to shreds. The Valekry's singular red light began to fade as it split in two.

"You," Kalar paused as he witnessed his partner's brutal execution. "A fake, you were never alive."

"And you are?" Anger replied.

Even now, Kalar hoped for his opponent to engage in righteous combat as he readied his blade. Perhaps there was still hope to avenge his brother. But Anger had no time for games and had already formed another vile plan.

In an act of sheer wickedness, Salem's child posed for an honorable melee only to unveil another firearm he had scavenged during the chaos, before firing it without mercy. Kalar would be deceived one last time before he fell dead on the ground. Even in his last moments he never imagined something could be so cruel.

"Mother," Anger whispered as he turned away from the massacre and ignored his crimes. "Where are you."

Even after all was said and done, the child felt nothing besides the ache in his heart from Salem's absence. Every moment he could not see her, he felt worthless. And so the child would stoop to any level, no matter how vile and cowardly, as long as he found her.

Anger then tossed both weapons aside as began his frantic search. Fortunately for him, little else remained in the vessel to halt his advance. And not a soul could expect mercy from the determined child of malice.

_______________________________

It would be some time before Anger could navigate the small vessel, his mind racing as he searched for Salem. Fortunately, her voice was rather loud, causing him to tear through any impeding doors with ravenous strength. As he drew closer his pace hastened in desperation, with only a few confused Valekry standing in his path. Those unfortunate knights were not at all expecting a comrade to come at them so fiercely, leaving them little chance to react. One by one Anger would kill them all. Before long he found himself before Salem's captor, his claws drenched with the blood of his kin.

"Anger!" Salem groaned as she fought the pain.

"I said to leave you, buffoon!" The Tella shrieked as she began to panic, not realizing what was happening.

But the child took orders from only one pale woman and wasted no time grabbing the woman with his sharpened claws. She had only moments to scream before her legs were torn off, killing her instantly. Anger then tossed aside her corpse like it was worthless trash before carefully tending to his mother.

"My dear dear child," The witch sobbed as her body began to wake. "You live!"

Anger pushed aside her affection as he attempted to explain the dire situation. Yet his mother continued the assault, unwilling to allow her child's bravery to go unnoticed. She cared little for his violent nature. All that mattered to her was acceptance and love.

"They will stop at nothing to protect their creators," Anger warned as he alluded to the enemy's return.

"Your hurt," Salem frowned, ignoring Anger's remark as she examined his scarred body.

But no amount of Salem's worry could distract the machine. He seemed quite fixated on his work as he began to fiddle with his immediate surroundings. Salem herself contained a healthy amount of confusion as she watched her child plan its next move. Before now, there was little time to observe his character.

"They're coming," Anger remarked. "The ship flies to their home, and I do not know how to stop it. It is unlikely I can kill all those who will arrive here."

"You've learned this how?"

"They withheld nothing from me. If one had their way we would be taken to a beloved city," Anger replied as he turned his gaze to the door he had just demolished. "I do not imagine their numbers will be few when we arrive."

"Well, then I might as well die pretty." Salem smiled as she observed her dead captor's dress.

Without an ounce of shame, the witch picked herself off the table and limped towards the Tella's gruesome body, before stripping the pretty outfit clean off her corpse. It would appear Salem was just as jealous and petty as the dead vermin. But she would never admit such things, her heart focused only on glamour and vengeance. Salem would remember the woman's compliments for some time, reveling in her own beauty as she began to dance.

Anger stood perplexed as his mother clumsily played about. For any man, the sight of the beautiful creature would have proven to be a seductive challenge. But Valekry held no romantic interests. Their hearts took pride in duty and honor, not the flesh and glory found in women.

"It does not fit you," Anger pointed, his mind unable to comprehend Salem's motives.

"And what do you know of fashion hm?" The witch scoffed as she finalized her indecent appearance.

"Your body is considerably larger, and does not fit."

"Well, that sounds like her problem doesn't it."

"In some areas."

"I shall perceive that as a compliment." Salem scoffed.

But at that moment, a solution had been found. Salem nearly jumped with joy as her mind began to race. "That's it! They believed me to be one of them, did they not?"

Anger's head tilted in confusion. But his mother had a point, the Valekry were not at all prepared for such intrusion. Never before had there been a single life form resembling them and their makers.

Salem's plan was simple indeed. To avoid swift annihilation, the two would have to successfully integrate. All that was needed was a proper amount of deception. After all, the mother would require a fitting home to live her first and only life.

"We do not know their home nor their customs. We may die."

"I know enough," Salem smiled, pointing towards the vile woman's corpse. "Someone like her can't be from some cruel dungeon. We may yet survive."

"I doubt the legitimacy of your plan. But I see no superior alternative." Anger shrugged for the first time in his life. "There is only one thing I know for real. And that is you. If I must kill them all so you may live, then so be it."

No matter what the future held, both accursed beings felt content as they stood in the blood-stained parlor. They were alive for the very first time. But more importantly, they had each other. It wouldn't be so bad to die together, or at least that's what Salem imagined. Her mind had already been twisted long ago.