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It was terrible, here I wa hiding behind houses and bins while everyone else happily walked about on the road. Did that woman with the pendant have a Sinful? What about the boy with the stick? Were they everywhere?

There are more, but we all have different bodies, there is no telling where my brothers and sisters are.

So, they could be anything. I felt my stomach gurgle with hunger. They'd be having supper right now. I felt my eyes just barely water. "I'm going to starve to death."

The human body can last three weeks without food

"Yea, by the second week they're much to weak to move." I murmured as I turned left onto an unnoticed road. So until thn I'd probably need to go digging for food, theft. I felt guilty at the thought. THose people worked hard to make food, then I would steal that all away. It wasn't right. You could go to hell for such a thing.

Do you know why its easier to believe in Hell, or wrong doing then it is to believe in God?

"I thought God didn't exist."

He doesn't. It is easier to find something wrong, morally or physically, about someone. Everywhere you turn there is always some wrong doing. Finding something good, pure, is even harder. That is why believing in God has no purpose, what does he do to these people who supposedly sin?

I patted my bag where the gem was being held. Perhaps I could find these other Sinfuls'? Collect them.

You can only have one, if you were to find one you could not weild i.

Couldn't it be quiet? Stop intruding on my thoughts? I let out a sigh and continued to walk the dirt road, the tan dust already coating my dark brown boots. Is this were my own new life began? Or was it a road to death? I wouldn't know. Oh well, I'd die tring at least. I let out another sigh and adjusted my glasses looking from my feet to in front of me. It seemed so long. I stopped to look behind me. It seemed so much easier to turn myself in.

I paused, waiting for the gem to say something, but nothing came. No words of wisdom. That was the first, I should treasure it. I turned around and startd walking. Why was I being so pessimistic. Life was, oh what did dad call it? Survival of the Fittest I believed he called it. The weakest link gets killed first don't they? Well then I wouldn't be killed. I could do this. I'd survive. I took my hair from its ponytail to fix it. I'll win this game. I promised myself, they'd need to pry my Angel from my cold dead fingers. I could do this. I could do anything.

Then look behind you.

I paused and warily looked behind me to see the armor of the Church knights. Immediatly I turned and ran. The adrenaline was racing through my veins as I darted off full speed, armor would slow them down. I could already feel myself panting and heartbeat quickening. I could also hear the rustling of armor behind me. I then heard the voice chuckle.

If you can do anything then you better run like the wind.

This was not what I needed.

The two left the confines of the cell to be met by the pleading and frightened stares of starved, desperate prisoners. The few who were already awake looked stared out at them from behind iron bars. Their own freedom had also been taken from them by the Church… Osyth couldn’t help but feel sympathetic for them.

“Please, Sinful Angel! Let me out!” shouted one of the prisoners.

From months spent in an accursed cell, seeing those who resided as victims to the Church’s fury within the darkened hall be sent off to be executed, one after another he had found the courage to speak up. It was his one chance at life… His one chance to be free of the grip of the Church; he wouldn’t let it slip by him so easily.

“Sinful… Angel?” the boy repeated, blinking as he turned from the prisoner towards Caidoc.

“It was the name my last owner bestowed upon me.” Caidoc replied, looking at the guard with mild annoyance, “I believe it is what you humans use to call beings of my nature.”

“Your… nature?” he repeated. His savior was not making much sense.

“It’s not something that particularly matters right now.” He walked over to the bars, grabbing on to one of them and staring the frail man in the face.

He was tall. His form still held some of the physique that it had before the period of starvation and confinement. His body shivered slightly as he looked at the creature. It had tilted its head so one bulging eye stood out. It terrified him, but something about it was almost hypnotic. No matter how much he tried to look away from it, his body would not let him.

There was a long moment of silence between the two. The monstrosity stared at the man for what felt like years. Not long after, a new thought began to form inside Caidoc’s mind. This returned that ever so eerie grin to his face, even larger than usual.

“May I kill this one, master?”

“W-what?!” Osyth took a step back. Such an odd request was obviously never asked of him, before. He had no idea how to handle the situation. After some contemplation, he found his voice once more and tried to calm himself down.

“Of course not! You can’t go around killing people on a whim! Do you really want to give the Church more reason to be hunting us?! We need to focus on a way out of here, not go around slaying the innocent! Don’t you think our situation is bad enough as it…”

… His attempt at calming himself had failed miserably.

Caidoc was amused by Osyth’s reaction. Never before had he found an owner so unwilling to take another’s life, and most were faced with lesser hardships than what Osyth was currently dealing with.

All the while, the poor prisoner who had the gull to speak up was turning his head back and forth from Osyth to Caidoc. His only thoughts were that he should have waited for some other saviors to come by, and that it would be really nice if that key ring was in reach. Several other prisoners shared this sentiment.

“… we can’t ju-” Osyth’s rant came to a screeching halt at the sound of jingling keys. He brought his focus upon the key ring Caidoc still held in his hand with a confused look.

“That only leaves releasing them or leaving them here, doesn’t it? I assumed Master Osyth would pick the former.” Caidoc explained.

“R-right…” The steam Osyth had built up from his rant was quickly consumed once more by his timid nature. Indeed, bravery was a pain for those with limited access to it.

The bandits rushed forth to the site of the conflict, the wagon having been torn to bits from the combat between the supposedly demon possessed and the rest of the raiding crew trying to subdue him.

So far three bandits had died, a clang of steel as a shoddy short sword met the superior steel of the now unwrapped sword. A midnight black blade with elegant silver ivy markings trailing down from the tip like a cascading wreath of moonlight.

It's surface was marred with blood, crimson liquid flowing through the once silver embedded images and giving the ethereal blade a brutal air to it.

The swords struggled for dominance before the claymore buried itself in the wooden frame of the wagon in a dazzling display of sparks from the grinding of blades, the short sword swiftly riposting it's self and burying deep within Kar's favored arm.

Blood spilled out from Kar's body and fell upon the road, his muscles being rent in twain and forcing his right hand to spasm uncontrollably. Believing the fight to be over, the bandit who had thrust the blade loosened his grip and began to ease up from his concentration.

It was doomed to failure, the blade was forsaken as it was of no use to him now. Kar's shoulder planted itself deep into a surprised man and sent him sprawling back into the wagon behind him, he blearily looked up towards Kar and saw only the swiftly descending wood axe.

His last thoughts were, oddly, how good that breeze felt on his brain as his skull cracked and splintered inwards in a shower of bone shards upon his mind.

Kar was dog piled from behind, his body being slammed to earth viciously as people swarmed over him to restrain his thrashing form. The claymore glinted gently in the twilight dusk, the light falling upon it's obsidian like blade dully.

Many merchants had taken the opportunity to escape into the wilderness, she supposed it was for the best really. Serin couldn't move either way, the sight of the human face paralyzing her in fear even as a bandit hauled her up by her shirt and dragged her away, the night came quickly and by the next morning they were gone.

The redeemers would come across the site of this crime late morning, assuming that their target had gotten away and this was the result of the Sinful Angel they had been assigned to hunt down. The next logical destination was the town, as it was the closest population for the slaughter that was commonly caused by the Sinful Angel victims.

Naturally they redoubled their efforts and began a rush towards the town where their target would no doubt reside currently.

They would be wrong.

"Stand behind me, " Malachai ordered, "and make sure you're in the shadows! When you no longer see me, do not move. They shouldn't be able to see through me when I'm covered, which means that they won't see you. Again, though, it is imperative that you keep in the shadows."

This little one... She coud prove useful.

"That was the plan, " Malachai muttered. "Anyone who the Church is after is a friend, now. We've already discussed this..."

Aye... Let's just hope the girl doesn't fancy you a mad man with all of your mumbling. Now, enough of this! They approach!

Nodding slightly, Malachai stepped back immediately. As his passive abilities began to take effect, Malachai's figure swiftly darkened. Within seconds, the shadows of the environment seemed to wrap around him, turning Malachai into a black veil. Behind this veil stood the young girl, had she followed instructions.

I stood behind him. He had to be kidding, I could easily stsee the outside of the alley. That's it, I'm done for. I'm stuck with a loony man talking to himself about 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' stuff. Imma diieee I thought mentally sobbing.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend? Perhaps, his control of these shadows could become useful in the future. We shall stick by his side.

Are you mad?! I argued mentally. For starters he's huge, he's a gazillion feet taller then me and he could be a rapist!

It was silent for a few moments and i could hearstiffled laughs. R-Rapist? Child that's quite the odd thought and such an odd time. We shall worry about that later. Now quit moving.

I stopped fidgeting and stared down the alleyway. So if this man wasn't a completelunatic, I could stay behind him and follow. Hopefully he had more brains then me or there'd be a big problem.

"We've got two options, " Malachai said, though the noise appeared to originate from thin air. "We can sit here and wait them out - they can't see us, with these shadows - or we can try to run. No need to rush the decision, either, we've got time."

Why can you not fight them? Enough of this cowardice!

"Cowardice? It's called survival, " Malachai muttered.

Bah, surviving like a caged dog is no better than dying and taking a dozen or two bastards with you.

"While that may be true, I'd be lucky to get one or two, let alone a dozen of them."

Why am I stuck with such a fool for a host?

"Hey, I didn't exactly ask to find you - you know what it caused. Doesn't matter anymore, does it? I found the artifcat, your voice popped up, and here we are, a few days later."

Serin awoke slowly, the last thing she had remembered was the merchants fleeing and the man, Kar, being brought down by his comrades during his throws of madness...

Her eyes snapped open fully as the memory of the human head laying before her flashed into her mind, her stomach promptly making it known that it wished to be emptied once more. She rolled over to her side and dry heaved towards the ground as her black hair cascaded down around her face, the amused snickers of a man being ignored for the time being as she tried to regain control of her body.

Several minutes later she sat back with a sigh and wrapped her arms protectively around her curled in legs. The amused snickers from before having died down into small chuckles as he absently shaved some wood off of a nicely sized block of wood.

"well, do you feel better now princess?" His mocking tone instantly settling in her mind that she didn't much like him.

"Where am I?" she ground out, her senses already trying to figure out what was around her. It wasn't that cold, so at least she was inside but inside of what?

"Base... Or home rather, as you won't be leaving for quiet some time." He responded while inspecting his wooden block rather critically, "Settle down princess," he interrupted as she had begun to pull herself up to make some sort of commotion.

It worried her how well he knew what she was about to do, was this kind of thing normal for him?

"Home of who? Who are you? And why am I here?" Accusing, that was the only possible way to accurately describe her tone as she rattled off questions to the man.

A light laugh, at least this one wasn't mocking. "First off princess," There was that word again... "Your in our home, the Lira Raiders." Raiders? She was kidnapped by the bandits!?

"As for who I am? I'm your caretaker and guide while your here, name's Ryan." Her flicked his knife towards his temple in a lazy attempt at a salute, "If you need anything, or want to go anywhere then just ask me. I'll do what I can for you."

Serin settled back against the wall guardedly, 'Well,' she thought irritatedly, 'That answers two of my questions...'

"And why am I here?"

"We couldn't very well just leave you to die, now could we?"

Serin peered into the various rooms with mild interest while she and Ryan walked through the corridors of the bandit's den, men and women alike relaxing or busying themselves with tasks here and there as the two conspicuously paraded about.

One man had the nerve to ask her what she was doing later that night!

... So did one woman.

After that she had stayed rather close to Ryan as he guided her though the underground facility, "And this is the mess hall, if your hungry we can pick up some snacks and rest for a bit." Mess hall?

Serin looked up at him dubiously, "Mess Hall? You act like this is a normal town and not a bandit's hideout!" She whispered fiercely, her voice being kept low to avoid attention from the other bandits around her. Ryan looked at her exasperatedly, "I really wish you'd stop calling us that, we aren't bandits."

"Then what are you!?" She accused, "We are a religion." He stated simply. Serin stopped dead, the shock of his admission running through her like real electricity as she became rooted to the spot. "A Religion? Like... The church? And the Redeemers!?" She squeaked out, already beginning to edge away from slightly.

"Oh no, if we were with them do you think we would be hidden under the ground and acting like bandits would?" He muttered out. "No, we are officially known as the Lira Raiders, actually we are more of a following of the goddess Lira." He explained as they walked into the mess hall and the food was ordered.

"Of course, if the church new we existed then we would be hunted down without abandon. So what better way to live then disguised as bandits?" He asked rhetorically.

And it was true, while the church would hunt down other religions as "heretics" on the top of their priority list, they didn't put much importance in persecuting stray bandits here and there...

"But... Back at the merchant caravan... The men were choosing women to rape!" She retaliated, the horrified look in her eyes only further serving to accentuate her claim. Ryan's eyes darkened as he leaned back, surprise evident on his face while he set his fork down and locked stares with Serin.

"'They'?" he asked curiously, "If you were to see these men again... Could you recognize them?" Serin nodded unsurely, "Good... They will be dealt with as soon as you think your ready to go find them." He announced.

Serin looked at him while fiddling with her food and nibbling every once in a while, the mood decidedly shot. "Um... W-What will happen to them?"

Ryan took a sip of his drink, something strong smelling... Perhaps alcohol? "They will be sentenced to death through burning." He said, a distaste obvious on his mouth.

Whether it was from speaking of the rapers, the method of death, or the taste of the drink... She couldn't tell.