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"You are doing something. Your stance is aggressive and I can sense mana flow. Chop it down, relax, presume he's a teammate, and clean up your little assault bones there." Fyrin sounded snappy. This was still horribly uncharacteristic. What the others couldn't know was that his soul wasn't actually locked on properly; as he went longer without any form of rest, his emotional status became unstable, much as it would have if he had still had a brain. "I believe I outrank you, no?"

---

Paul nodded slowly. "And... wait, what? Shouldn't we want this to happen?" He paused. "And does the name Fyrin mal'Reist mean anything to you? The man dropped in on us, he was trying to bring down Legion and so..."

Fyrin nodded curtly. "Thank you."

((Wait, Renard isn't related to Ma'Krogeyna?))

---

Paul pursed his lips. "What kind of characteristics? He seemed nice enough, but... I suppose it could've been an act. I mean, he's not a Warlock Soul like Robert or something."


Because... you wouldn't tell me much.

Oh?

You're kidding.
worst of the worst. Alan is understating.>

"Robert says... oh wait, you already know," Paul remembered.

((Ooooooh.))

Paul pursed his lips. "Well..."

What would happen to his servants?

Oh.

"Well, do you think he'd be likely to use us? And why would he be going after Legion at this point? He was a Warlock..."

Paul lowered his eyebrows. "Then... why keep with us so far? He has taken efforts to preserve us... then again, he's also worked pretty hard to keep himself safe. I suppose we could be his personal weapons.

"If that's the case, I think the others deserve to know before something happens to them. Can we warn them somehow? Presuming, of course, we're right," Paul added.

Melissa gave a sigh, but she slid away from Paul, giving him a gentle smile. He nodded, gave her a brief kiss, then stood. "I think one of us ought to stay here, and I'd rather go if I could. If you want to come with us, you understand the tactics behind magical affairs better than I, but it seems... then again, we have plenty of defensives here. Why don't you come?"

As Paul pulled out of the shadow dimension, he felt an odd pressure on his mind - not like a headache, something deeper. He felt displaced momentarily; a wave of fury ran from head to toe as though the Shadow were back. Although it was not true, he began to suspect that somehow, somehow, they had broken away from Helmsborough, and that put him on edge. He moved towards the group of the others. Joe, Jacob, the demons, and Fyrin. If he weren't so busy watching his back, Paul would've been rushing Fyrin, but he didn't.

The pressure returned again, but the fury seemed... internal. Not the effect of a clash between souls, but... something different. What was it?

---

Fyrin glanced over as Paul and Alan appeared, then hesitated. Something was wrong. His third eye popped open and he focused on Paul. There was the problem. Robert. S**t. He didn't look happy. He took a step back, then spoke quietly enough that the others around him could hear him, but not the approaching group. "I think Paul is going to attack me. I don't want you to hurt him back. I'll handle this."

Paul felt the pressure again. Much harder. It whirled against his skull, violently. His vision went red; he couldn't think straight; he didn't even seem to be in control; and then like a pop, he was shoved into a back corner. His body was suddenly absent; his control gone. He had senses; he could see what he was seeing, but he was no longer in control. This wasn't Paul, even if it sounded like it.

Fyrin recognized it. He took a step backward and readied himse.f

"You... you..." Paul was at a lost for words - or rather, Robert. "I'm... I'm going to do horrible things to you." He started into a jog, then began sprinting, his weight covering the distance in almost unrealistic time. "You betrayer!" he cried at the top of his lungs, his legs pumping, his feet flying. He went for his pistol, but a moment too late realized his mistake; he was charging, and he couldn't stop.

Fyrin's right hand extended straight outwards at Paul's chest, and Paul was too heavy to turn, too heavy to stop. The arm and the attached shoulder went translucent and Paul's chest slammed into it, passed through it like smoke, and moved on. When it did, Fyrin's fist was clenched. Paul went out like a light; his feet simply stopped moving and he collapsed to the ground, the sunglasses he had borrowed from Joe slamming into the concrete first.

Fyrin was meanwhile staring at his empty, translucent fist.

---

Paul awoke in the dome. Something was wrong. Robert was across from him, running. Running towards him. There had to be a tenth of a mile between them. Robert was shouting something, clearly desperate. He was trying to make it to safety.

Then the dome exploded.

Half of the roof was ripped away; a bandaged hand swept inward, clenched around Robert, swept out, all in a fraction of a second. Beyond Paul's dome of stable mindset there was a whirlwind. A terrifying hurricane. He threw himself back in defense with a cry, then realized that he had his body again and had done the same there. He opened his eyes, tried to roll towards Fyrin. A terrible absence made itself clear. Robert was no longer in his body.

---

The soul's vision is interesting. Robert could currently see the other souls around him, their characteristics made plain by features. The one face he scarce dared look at was right before him. Fyrin's.

"Please don't do this," he requested quietly. "Please, please don't make me do anything to you." Robert tried to be angry, tried to have fury, but he was terrified. This was all wrong. Last time this had happened... he brushed the thought away, as it only brought a deeper bolt of fear.

"I..." He was wordless. He finally brought himself to look at Fyrin, and saw something he hadn't expected. Not the inhuman mess, hardly recognizable as a soul; this was something entirely different. It was his original facial features, but scarred. Horribly scarred. Every inch of exposed flesh was completely scarred, as though it had healed from some burn that covered every bit of his skin.

"Things have changed," Fyrin stated the obvious. "I'm not what I was. Don't make me do anything," he pleaded. Robert stared in wonder, but felt the world shift around him as Fyrin turned back to Paul, who apparently was just standing up. The eyes of his soul were closed; he didn't know how to open them. With a quick thrust, Robert felt himself pushed back into Paul's mind.

---

Fyrin turned from where he had stood back to Paul. Paul put up a hand. "Hey!" he snapped. "What... what was that?" he demanded. Fyrin bent over him, pushed the fist into his head... and Robert was back, as quickly as that.

What was that?! Paul nearly shouted. No response. Robert was there, but... he wasn't speaking.

"What's going on here?" Paul ordered from anyone who would answer.