I'll Tell You My Sins, You Can Sharpen Your Knife

[Miranda Weaver]

"That is my purpose. Some things should be locked away and forgotten. More's the pity that it had to be myself, but one does what one must do." The figure turned, the scarred visage plainly visible. The hilt of a sword projected from the edge of the cloak. "I don't want to have to hurt you, Champion, but some things must be. Leave now and forget the Archivist's misguided quest."

[Will Stanton]

"You may see the future, but you're blind to past precedence. What on Earth makes you think you can get me to stand down?"

[Miranda Weaver]

Her hand moved to the hilt of the sword, "Perhaps I had hoped you would be reasonable."

[Will Stanton]

"What, pray tell, is your definition of 'reasonable'?"

[Miranda Weaver]

"I had assumed that the Champion of the Morrigan would be reasonable enough to realize when a battle can't be won," she taunted, starting to pace slightly. "The Daughter of the Morrigan is too dangerous a thing to leave in the physical world. Locked away here, she will trouble no one."

[Will Stanton]

"Except for the Morrigan herself, of course. Or did you get her blessing before banishing yourself here?" the champion taunted back, matching her pacing.

[Miranda Weaver]

"Of course not," the Seer said. "You know very well what she would have said. 'We can't do that. We'll work it out.' And the most damning, 'This won't happen.' Even the simple ties of mother-to-daughter blind her to the weapon the Daughter was created to be." Her hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword.

[Will Stanton]

"She is of Her blood. She will not, can not, be used for harm. If She says things will work out, then things will work out."

[Miranda Weaver]

"Your faith is commendable, Champion, but you have not seen the things I've seen. No one should see the things I've seen. And that is why I am here, to keep those things secret." She drew the blade, the love child of a Roman gladius and a claymore, completely unwieldy in a physical context, but the Seer wielded it with ease in the Astral. "The Morrigan is a goddess of war. She always has been. The Daughter may not be the equal of the Mother, but do not make me prove she can be used for harm."

[Narrator]

Atop one of the mausoleums a crow perches, observing the exchange.

Or it would be a crow, if it wasn't a rather vivid shade of red.

It seems to be skirting around behind the Seer.

[Will Stanton]

"And you have not seen the things that I've seen. Seen things the way they should be seen

Oh ye of little faith, you think you are the only one who has suffered? Do you truly believe you are the only one who has felt pain? Hiding it away like this only hurts yourself.

The Morrigan is more than just a goddess of war, and she always has been. Do not attempt to reduce her to justify your actions."

The Champions' arms extended into sharp metal points, equipping himself to counter the Seer.

[Miranda Weaver]

"You were warned, Champion," she said. "Do not think that I will go lightly just because you are the Morrigan's pet." She lunged, bringing the sword across in a sweep and trying to cut under the Champion's own weapons.

[Will Stanton]

The Champion brought his sword-arms in an X to absorb the blow of the Seer's swipe.

"And do not think I will go lightly because you share her blood."

He counterattacked with a horizontal slash.

[Miranda Weaver]

The Seer blocked the blow with her blade, using the block to try to reverse Will's momentum. The move forced her to sidestep, moving her a little away from the vault door.

[Will Stanton]

The Champion's mometum was reversed, but the Seer would find it very difficult to remove her blade from the Champion's blades, as if they were sticking together.

[Miranda Weaver]

The Seer wrenched the blade a couple of times, trying to free it. "Very well then," she said, grimacing. The sword flared, it's edge igniting into a flame made of anger. The battle over the blade was moving her further and further from the vault door.

[Narrator]

As the opportunity presents itself, the red crow is moving, perch by perch, first to the edge of the building's roof, then towards the top of the vault door.

[Will Stanton]

The Champion continued his assault, grimacing from the flames.

"Stand...down...damn you..." he grunted.

[Miranda Weaver]

"I don't recognize your authority," she growled back, releasing the blade when her ploy didn't free it. The flames on the blade died as her hands ignited. "And your gods are not mine."

[Narrator]

The red crow hops over to perch upon the hinges of the vault door.

They begin heating up rather steadily.

[Will Stanton]

"My God is your mother, and that alone demands respect."

[Miranda Weaver]

"Anyone who demands respect deserves none," she said, glaring at him.

In the vicinity of the red crow, there was the creak of a bow being drawn, "Bodb Derg. I knew if I let this foolishness continue you'd show yourself," the Huntress whispered as she stepped partially out of the shadows of the room.

The Seer seemed singularly unaware of anything beyond the Champion.

[Narrator]

"So you admit it's foolishness," the crow says softly, not budging.

"The first step is acknowledging you have a problem."

The crow's feet have begun to sink into the heating metal as it softens.

[Will Stanton]

"And neither do those who would run and hide rather than face challenges."

[Miranda Weaver]

"My opinion and the Seer's differ on a great many things," the Huntress said quietly, "Any last words?"

***

"It's a good thing I'm not asking for respect then, isn't it?" She advanced on the Champion.

[Narrator]

"Just two, really. 'Watch' and 'Out.'"

The crow takes flight just as the critically weakened hinges start to give.

[Will Stanton]

"It's a good thing I'm not asking for respect then, isn't it?" She advanced on the Champion.

"But you are. You are engaging me on my level, presenting yourself as on equal footing. You are demanding that I don't carry you out of here like the whiny brat you're being."

[Miranda Weaver]

The Seer was about to retort, but the angry groan of the vault door finally got her attention. "Goddess, no," she gasped, reaching out towards the massive door, the flames on her hands going out.

The vault door groaned and twisted, ripping itself free and bouncing down towards the two combatants. An Astral wind blew from the hole left behind as outside the other mausoleums began crumbling.

[Will Stanton]

The Champion threw himself in front of the Seer, to absorb as much of the blast as he could.

[Miranda Weaver]

The door slammed into the champion, a wave of denial that dissipated and washed around them as the door came apart against the Champion.

Carried on the wind from the hole behind the door was the sound of a... giggle?

[Will Stanton]

The Champion took a defensive stance. "What is back there?"

[Miranda Weaver]

"No... no..." The Seer said, collapsing to her knees and covering her ears.

"I would wager it is the thing she fears, most likely a vision," said the Archivist from the doorway. "My sword, if you please, Champion," she said, holding out her hand as she approached.

[Will Stanton]

The Champion handed her the sword.

"I hope you know what you're doing..."

[Miranda Weaver]

"I don't, but that's also okay," she said, taking the sword and slinging it across her back. She and the Huntress moved and hefted the Seer by her shoulders, "Let's see what the frightens the Seer. Champion, if you would lead the way?"

[Will Stanton]

The Champion looked around one more time at the destruction...then nodded, and cautiously crept forward.

[Miranda Weaver]

The door opened onto a stairway that descended. The Astral wind was still blowing, offering resistance as they descended, but not a significant amount of resistance. The giggling was punctuated by sobbing and took on a more solid noise as they descended. A large room opened out at the bottom of the stairs. The room resembled a museum exhibit.

The first glance at the scene reveals bodies... so many bodies. Their forms are indistinct, resembling no specific individual. There's also a lot of blood. So much blood everywhere.

In the middle of all of the carnage was a young woman on her knees. She was covered in blood and holding her face in her hands. Blood ran between her fingers, running down her arms to pool on the floor. She rocked slightly, sobbing softly. The rocking motion revealed that she had once had wings, but those had either been ripped or shorn off, leaving only barely feathered stumps on the shoulder blades that continued to bleed as well.

The soft sobbing from the figure was briefly interrupted by a childlike giggle.

As Miranda's three aspects touched the bottom of the the stairs, they merged back into a Miranda's single avatar. The avatar sank to its knees, staring at the scene.

[Will Stanton]

The Champion gently laid one hand on Miranda's shoulders.

"What is this place?" he asked, quietly.

[Miranda Weaver]

"A place no one should ever have seen," Miranda said quietly. "My future."

[Will Stanton]

"The shadows of things that will be, or the shadows of things that may be, only?"

[Miranda Weaver]

She shook her head, "There's no way to tell. The possibility alone is..."