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He'd known.

From the moment she'd lost control, Andeon had known. He'd been sitting in his room, the walls still bare and the floor still empty, turning the pages of a book between his clawed hands. It was a distinctly human book, surely some philosophical volume that had been somehow smuggled into Halloween. He flipped a page, eyes dragging along the foreign language when her foolishness rang out like a bell for any mindflayer within a mile to hear. Andeon curled a finger into the pages to mark his place and folded the book around it, lifting his head like a druid to the wind.

llithid operated on a frequency all their own, and their natural abilities were controlled by a very particular type of magic. The same psionic force Aen'ryliis struggled to control fueled his own telekinetic abilities. It was as though she had struck some perfect note, and Andeon's shared abilities resonated in response. The moment she lost control, it pulsed like a distress signal. A warning beacon, a single bass note that rattled his bones.

Andeon rolled his white eyes and let the book fall open once more.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen" he answered promptly.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

His lips twitched as he stared at the road, "Awhile", he admitted at last.




Ten days later, and Andeon stood quietly over her. He had watched as the crystals crept along her skin, and stepped back quietly as old wounds reopened and the blood crept towards his feet.

I'm barefoot, for Jack's sake, he said to no one at all.

Riley couldn't hear him.

Riley wasn't there.

Andeon's laughter was a quiet sound on internal amusement. It was the kind of laugh that had often made Riley want to hit him, as though he were laughing at a joke that only he would ever know. And my Jack, was this one ever funny. Andeon's eyes narrowed as he focused on the crystals, the way they encased her like a layer of the purest ice. He could still see the outlines of her beneath it. She was a fly encased in spider's silk, harvested for her power.

The Chrysalis was not a pleasant experience, from what he'd heard. Few ever returned from it. Most were sucked dry, their bodies left to wither and die as the being they gave life to moved on to a new source of energy. It was a badge of honor for their species that their greatest natural predator was indeed their own power. So precise and delicate was their magic that they needed absolute control.

It did not come easy, and those who could not gain it were left to die.

Try?

His voice was cold with arrogance, once brow lifted in a matching expression., but it resonated on the same power frequency as the insolent consciousness of Riley's crystals. They did not know, and how could they? He smiled at their gesture- oh, but they were so like her. Even in their infancy, they knew how to play her games. They knew how to talk and how to touch. A hand upon the shoulder, a whispered reassurance, a well placed shift in mental tone.

Conniving little b***h.

She's a whole lot of things.

Andeon bent slightly, wrapping a clawed hand around the long, slender crystals that extended from her hand like long nails. He pulled as though to help her to her feet, before gripping hard and snapping his wrist to the side. They came off with an ear-splitting crack, as though lightning had struck.

Weak isn't one of them.

For a brief moment, Andeon seemed to ignore the voice. It was the quiet pleading of something far beneath his notice. A beggar, crying for coins at the boots of a King. Even as the voice rose, as Riley's crystallized toes tore open the carpet and threads spilled out like silk entrails, he looked at those broken crystals in his hand. His cheeks rose in that lipless smile, and unsettling expression even when it wasn't reveling in the joy of an impending massacre.

Moments like these came few and far between in life, Andeon thought as he looked down upon the razor-sharp shards of crystal. Tiny fragments of Riley's rebellious second consciousness. Like the woman herself, there simply were no words that could convey his point. No amount of logic would dislodge her from her stance, even if she had taken it only to prove that she could.

The glow that pulsed within slowly died, and for a brief moment was snuffed out entirely, with as little effort as a candle blown away by the wind. They jumped to life only seconds later, alive with a fresh light. Andeon exerted his will over them, a blacksmith's hammer upon red hot steel, and they hovered around his head in a slowly spinning crown.

A trophy to mark the victory over Aen'ryliis that she would never remember. That he, out of respect for her life, would never speak of. To interfere with the Chrysalis was to dishonor the weak, and so there could be no story for Andeon to hold above her head. One hand lifted to unsnap the clasp at his shoulder, letting the pauldrons fall to the floor with a sharp clatter. That simple action sent two messages. The first, that he did not need armor to contend with a common parasite.

The second was carved deep into the skin above his heart, a pale white scar gouged nearly to the bone. Andeon did not simply bear Riley's mark, but suffered her brand.

Can't let you do that.

You should be.

The words were curt and monotone. This was not some sudden anger, the fiery flash one felt when facing a new foe. It was a cold anger, an anger that took hold in ones bones and remained there for years. The kind of deep loathing felt between old enemies. Andeon had battled that same power. Every mindflayer drew from that same source of energy, and every one battled with its hold over them. They had lost brilliant minds to that all-consuming lust for power, but Andeon was confident they would not lose another that day.

I'm afraid you're mistaken. I will not kill that body.

Riley's crystallized body could not move fast enough to avoid his step, a clawed hand lunging out to snatch her by the throat. Andeon had battled Riley more times than he could count. He knew where the edge of death was, and just how hard he could throw her and still be sure that she would to a halt just inches away from it.

Another step carried them to the wall, and her crystallized body went crashing into it. The broken shards at her fingertips raked his arm, but he would not loose the grip around her throat. He did not have her cunning, or even her intellect. But he had strength where she did not, and a stomach for bloodshed. He pulled his arm back again, and smashed her skull forward into the doorframe until the first few crystals chipped off.

But I will very gladly hurt it.

Everything he was doing was wrong.

Andeon knew that, even as the back of Riley's head put another dent into her wall. Even as the broken crystals sliced into her skin, he understood what the price of his actions would be. Her blood ran in thin rivulets, tracing the curve of her neck and pooling in the place where his fingers met her throat. It was as warm as he remembered, and Andeon took a deep breath to steady himself. Everything in him screamed out against what he was doing, told him to let go and let her die. Let her body fall to the floor to bleed out.

It would be a better death than the one the power would give her. It would be a quick death, painless and honorable. There was no dishonor in dying at the hands of another mindflayer. He could lie to the council, tell her father that she died while fighting for their cause. He could take her body home and bury it beneath the arena as he had seen them do to so many others.

Except that he couldn't.

The crystals cracked away from her cheeks, and Andeon caught a glimpse of the hairline scar that traced the edge of Riley's jaw.





“Stop it!” Riley snapped as she yanked hard on the tentacle held in her hands. They sat together in the broad cavern she called a home, teenagers meeting in secrecy and darkness. She wore the ornate robes of a Judictor, the telltale garb of someone who would one day take her proper position on the council and lead their hive to glory. He wore the armor of an Advocate, sworn to fight and defend their hive without question or hesitation. For so long their paths had been the same, their dark robes boasting the matching simplicity of an Initiate. Until the Trials had defined their strengths and separated their paths.

Now, Riley was expected to live only for their cause, just as Andeon was expected to die for it.

“Shut up and tilt your head back,” Andeon said, even as he tightened his grip on her chin and pushed it up himself. Fresh blood gushed over his fingers, turning the pale purple skin a vibrant red. He plucked a small crystal shards from a plate to his side, pinching it between thumb and forefinger. They were just the same as any of their other psionic tools; brilliant blue crystal fragments that hummed with power. The only difference between these and the ones their elders commanded was in their size. They were splinter thin, a necessity for someone of his level to be able to use them effectively. Andeon inspected each one very carefully before he laid it across the wound. It gave a soft hiss as it ejected its power and melted into the gash, cauterizing it quarter inch by quarter inch.

The last shard fell into place as Andeon released her chin, and Riley ran a finger across the smooth skin, still slick with blood. The faint scar would be barely visible, hidden in the contour shadows of her face unless one knew just where to look. Even so, she was not about to give Andeon credit for a job well done. She rolled her shoulders in a shrug and grunted some wordless noise of appreciation as she watched Andeon slowly pack away the few remaining shards.

For a long while, the silence filled the space between them. They had been avoiding the real injury all day. The knowledge that come morning, she would be gone. Sent away for who knew how long, to a place he would not be permitted to follow. It had hung over them like a cloud, started the fight that had left her jaw cut open and his cheekbones bruised.

“You should rest,” he said at last, standing from the edge of her bed. There was a sudden coldness to his tone, a forced distance that Andeon had worked years to maintain,“You have a long trip tomorrow.”

“Then maybe you shouldn't have hit me.”

“Then maybe you should learn not to pick fights that you can't win,” he said as he turned for the door. That would have been the end of it, had her smaller hands not suddenly caught his. The surprise on Andeon's face would have been something to cherish, were their circumstances any different. Were that surprise not coupled with apprehension. Andeon looked at her hands, small and fragile compared to his own. He allowed himself only a half-second before he frowned, and gently pulled his hand away.

“Riley...”

“Just stay,” she said, and it was the closest to a plea that Andeon had ever heard from her. She looked at him with just the right curve to her brow, just the right inflection in her voice to make him do whatever she wanted. Riley stared up at him, grabbed his hand again, and tugged hard, “Just until I fall asleep.”

Like putty in her hands, Andeon folded. He fell back to the edge of the bed, and watched as the young Judicator placed her head upon his knee. His hands itched to brush away the tentacle that fell across her cheek, but Andeon curled his claws into the blanket instead.

“Will you be here when I get back?” she spoke softly, a wide yawn stretching out her words.

“Yes.”

“And when I wake?”

“Yes.”

“What if.... they never.. call me home,” her soft voice filled the dark cavern, sleep already slurring her speech. Exhaustion took over within moments, and only when her breathing had steadied to the slow, rhythmic pace of a deep sleep did Andeon whisper his reply.

“Then I will find you, and I will bring you back.”





He knew that she should have left her there to suffer, let the power she craved take her over. Even if she survived, even if the energy chose to keep her body alive to puppet, it would have taken from her everything that made her who she was. Never again would she catch his eye as they passed in the busy halls, or lay her delicate hand upon his shoulder when she was certain that nobody else might see. Never again would he lay down to sleep, and hear the faint, soft voice echoing in his head.

Good night, Andy, she would whisper softly, always at the stroke of midnight. He had laid awake on even his most troubled evenings and waited for those words. He could not sleep without them.

Good night, Annie, he would say in reply. It was only when her voice had faded to a memory and he was certain she was sleeping soundly that Andeon would dare to let his own consciousness fade.

It was not only forbidden that he interfere, but considered nothing short of outright treason. They had always been taught that a hive was only as strong as its weakest member, and to show such mercy only served to pollute their bloodlines. Andeon's loyalty to their hive had always been unwavering, beyond contestation even as far as the elders were concerned. His devotion to their hive was bone-deep.

What they did not know, could never know, was that his devotion to the dying girl was far deeper.

We can give you power, they promised in desperation, and Andeon knew the words to be true. Had he chosen to let them survive, to let Riley die, he could have added to his own abilities. It should have been the logical choice.

I have power, he thought quietly, his inner voice void of all emotion. It was as though Andeon had flipped a switch, turning off his emotions entirely. Distancing himself so that he could pull Riley's body away from the wall and slam it to the floor. The crystals on her skin cracked and fell away like shattered glass, but they did not relent. Like frost moving along a window pane, they immediately tried to reclaim their territory. They crept greedily over her purple skin, exhausting their energy in an attempt to secure their hold on her.

We can give you strength.

I have strength, he responded coldly, and dug his claws between the crystal and the skin as though to prove it. He ripped away another chunk, freeing her shoulder, and cast it aside.

We can give you anything! They pleaded desperately as he slammed a fist hard into her stomach, cracking their hold and ripping them away. Anything at all. Name your price, but let us live!

Andeon tore at the crystals until their grip began to loosen, until he could feel their power wane and their influence dwindle. His face was a mask of apathy, cold intent and relentless focus on the task at hand. He took hold of her forearm and squeeze until the crystals shattered, careless of the way they cut against her skin.

A mindflayer seeks only knowledge, Andeon recited the words of an Advocate's oath as one might recite a bible verse, as he ripped the crystal shell from her body bit by bit. The crystals fought, back as well as they could, struggling to reclaim their territory as he picked her up once again.

A mindflayer protects only his hive.

He held her by the throat as his tentacles began to wrap tightly around her body.

Serves only his council.

They covered her arms, her legs, until everything from her neck to her ankles was bound, heldin a living cocoon.

He does not want, for want is the seed of disobedience.

The tentacles squeezed.

He does not need, for need is the origin of weakness.

They squeezed harder.

He does not love.

Bits of crystal began to chip away beneath the force, what remained of the shell splintering in his grip. Sweat beaded upon Andeon's forehead as he held her, his mental strength poured into suppressing the psionic energy. There was a high-pitched sound, like a scream so sharp it verged on being inaudible, before the glass shattered into dust. It rained down upon the room like fresh snow, and Riley's freed body fell atop it.

Only when the last traces of that high-pitched death knell had faded from the room did he slide his hands beneath her, and move her battered body from the pile of glass. Andeon laid her to rest upon the floor, where there were no shards to further her wounds. He did not brush away the tentacles that fell across her face. He did not wipe off the blood that coated her skin. He simply stood and fastened on the armor that marked him as an Advocate.

This time, he would not be there when she woke. The door shut behind him with a soft click, and a mental push slid the lock quietly back into place. He had done his job. He had brought her back, and as he turned down the hall, the last words of the oath rang in his skull like a warning.

For love is the weakness of mortality, and mortality is my enemy.