The Holder huffed as she followed the monk up the twisting mountain path, which was rapidly approaching the dizzying heights of the clouds. As much as she hated that the trek was pushing her otherwise admirable constitution to it's limits, she had to inwardly chuckle at how fitting the Changeling's refuge was, the merciless climb mirroring the careful intellectual and emotional distance it maintained from all but a select few.
The wizened old monk leading her up the mountain stopped with the Holder nearly crashing into him, bringing herself out of her reverie just in time. Unperturbed, the monk pointed just over the next ridge at the barely visible top of a modest compound in the vague form of a monastery, evidently perched in a valley tantalizingly close. The monk nodded to her and began to work his way back down the mountain silently.
The Holder swished her canteen, judging that it was nearly empty and took one final swig. She was secretly apprehensive, but not out of fear. Despite the commanding presence and reputation that her status as the Holder afforded her, she also had a heart as vast as the Aeem Sea, taking a motherly shine to the Gator's various allies, especially the distant and troubled Changeling.
The Changeling had been a feared warrior across the sea and into the various lands it had carved out a reputation in from it's native Ceedee to the vicious and war torn Edipee which it had briefly ruled. Many was a sundown that saw the Changeling grimly threading through a pile of bodies to scrub their lifesblood from it's skin, but it was the mistake of many to think that it was the carnage that had struck it down.
Instead it was the ravages of honey sweet love turned to sour ichor that took their toll from it's first marriage to the woman posterity recalls as only The Bride to the dalliances and flings epitomized by The Changeling's fellow pirate The Bad Example. With it's heart in tatters, The Changeling sheathed it's sword and withdrew, retreating to pour itself into a rigorous study of the dark arts with the stated intent of reworking itself into a new being that could not be felled by such unseemly means.
Passing into the courtyard of The Changeling's compound, The Holder smiled as the sweet scent of incense greeted her arrival, distracting her from her continued musings regarding her impending host who knew naught of her arrival until one of a pair of smartly dressed attendants stood from his lounging beside a magnificent stone koi pond and disappeared inside, leaving the other to smooth his uniform and approach her. As he neared, The Holder was surprised to see a mixture of reverence and fear play across his features.
"Hold, young man, you have nothing to fear from me," she began beneficently, wondering if despite the sharp decline of the Gator's cult in recent years, this youth knew who stood in front of him.
"Praise to you," he welcomed her with a shaky smile, addressing her by the title which marked her as The Holder.
"How is it that in this remote place you know of the Gator?" she said, magnanimously accepting his praise.
"Our patron, who awaits you inside, has seen to it that we know well the history of the devourer and his allies on this plane.
It was a comforting thought that The Changeling had retained his devotion to the Gator throughout it's self imposed exile, she thought to herself as she was led into the main building, an asiatic style palace of dark mahogany, decorated in rugs and tapestries of crimson, black, and gold which had long been the preference of The Changeling in any of it's forms.
But her comfort was soon interrupted by a string of loud profanity from the other side of the wood framed rice paper door being presently slid open by her guide. The Holder stood in puzzlement for a few seconds, taking in the scene in front of her.
The Changeling, or so she surmised by the shimmering crimson hair tucked behind its ears, was stripped to the waist hovering over a shockingly beautiful and quite naked woman lying on her side as she watched the Changeling p***k her hip with a succession of needles, set up around a dazzling array of inks in all colours. It held up a finger requesting a minute to wrap up it's work, laying a few more lines of colour into the young woman's hip, eliciting a fresh stream of invective.
The Changeling motioned to the attendant who brought forward a dressing and pressed it to the woman's hip, eliciting a distinctly feminine hiss from her. He quickly secured it and backed off in fright. The Changeling watched this and laughed quietly, washing it's hands in a nearby basin. The Changeling then turned to The Holder and embraced her warmly, introducing the young woman, who was busy dressing in a silk kimono no less striking than her vibrant purple hair.
Posterity does not remember her well before this moment, much as she wished, except to say that she is remembered as The Muse following the fateful encounter with The Holder. All that is truly known of The Muse before she entered the canon of the Gator is that she rose from a miserable and difficult childhood to become a courtesan as famous for her wit and skill in battle as for her unique and unquestionable beauty, which is ostensibly how she came to be credited with the revival and transformation of The Changeling during its years of exile. The intricate and beautiful art embracing her body, curling about her as roses, skulls, and other elegant imagery befitting both her beauty and danger lend untold resonance to her title and influence.
Over tea, The Holder expounded on the reason for her visit, which was far from a happy affair. During The Changeling's exile, The Gator had gone into it's most recent hibernation to begin yet another evolution, which left the Aeem Sea vulnerable. Baku's fortress had fallen long ago, abandoned by it's denizens as the winds of change blew them to the four corners. A few valiant souls fought to maintain order and the dominion of the Gator over Aeem, led by the Joka and the fabled Lost Leader, but they faced a mounting insurrection that spit on the name of the Gator and profaned Him with apocrypha.
The insurrection could be quickly quelled by the newly emerged Gator, but the problem ran deeper, as the Holder grimly explained. An enraged and newly endowed Gator could bring about the end times in His rage at the crimes done to him, a state of affairs that was not preferable to all but the most zealous of the Gator's followers and allies.
The Changeling could feel that seed planted in it by the Gator when it was tender and young begin to throb once more, the siren call of which it could no more ignore than he could the entreaties of his old and valued friend. With a lingering kiss to The Muse, it declared that there was nothing for it, that they would depart the compound at once to rally what allies remained and rebuild what fractured alliances they could.
Soon the Changeling stood watching the compound burn, one arm around The Muse in a grim silence. The Holder and its attendants, carrying the essential belongings they would need, had gone on ahead, winding down the mountain. With one last look at the collapsing palace, the Changeling took her hand and began the long journey back into it's history with the fire smoldering in it's eyes just as it did in the ruins of its now forgotten refuge.
