Ali, witch's cabin
The witch smiled, wizened and wrinkled. Ali trusted her, though he couldn't say why. They would all be saved. All of them... he had forgotten Jeanne, for one blessed moment, he had forgotten what he had done to her. But now it returned, the same brutal realization. They would be cured, but Jeanne would not. She would suffer an eternity for what Ali did. The witch talked on, soothing and protecting them. He wanted to surrender himself to her, to let her gentle kindness wash over his tired body.
"When Feng first became infected, it was her lover's doing. They fought a bloody battle, Feng triumphing over a beast of the night, but paid the grandest of prices for doing so. She became a beast herself, no longer beautiful, but wounded and scarred. But the worst of it... She slew the one thing that could've helped her now. Her lover." Ali glanced at Rayf, who regarded the witch blankly. What did she mean?
"No, not because of the love he or she felt to one another, no no. Not at all. For you see, her lover, was the vampire who infected her." The witched paused. Ali leaned forward. He could see Rayf do the same, listening closely know. Ali thought he understood what the witch was saying...
"Her direct connection to the original vampire, Lamae Beolfag, and thus Molag Bal, was in him; her lover, her origin." the room was silent. "The only way to cure vampirism of the Volkihar origin that I have learned of over countless years of existence, is to cut the freshest link to the origin with a precise and thorough practice. The sacrifice of both body and soul of the matron vampire is needed, for no other way is strong enough to cut away the long hand of Molag Bal's power." Again, Ali felt the dagger, imbedded in his flesh, twist. Another sacrifice, another compromise. One more crimson stain in an effort to achieve a goal of good.
Suddenly, Ali wondered why he trusted the witch. It was not kindness that shaped her features, but curiosity, and kind of cold, detached amusemant. She reveled in the decision she handed to them, marveling in their agony. He had told himself he was more worthy than the people they had killed, that they were nothing but cattle. But how could he hold himself above another, he who killed one of the few people who had shown him kindness in his bleak existence?
"Bring me the soul of Feng, the vampire, and I can bring you free from your curse. Do this, and I can return to you what you once lost." The witch had produced a great mass of crystal and an ornate silver dagger, humming with arcane energy. And let your first act as a human be betrayal. Reclaim what was lost, and take your place among the living and lead a virtuous life. Blood cannot wash blood. Without Feng, you would have been another Clain, just a hell spawn. She gave you purpose. And now you would kill her?
Ali stared at Rayf, trying to decipher the thoughts behind his eyes. What could he make of this?
"Before you decide though, there's someone dear I'd like you two to meet." The witch led them to another room, where she pushed open the door, eyes glinting with that callous amusemant. Inside, Jeanne lie, eyes closed, her hand still gripping the dagger. For a moment, Ali's anger flared. The witch didn't deserve to desecrate this thing too, which had been theirs. Then he looked closer, watching how her eyelids would flutter, ever so slightly. What had the witch done? She was alive, undeniably. She had to be. Hope sprang in Ali. Could Satakel at last be smiling on him? He knelt by her side, trying to find a pulse before remembering Jeanne wouldn't have. But the crimson wound had closed, a thin layer of scar tissue separating it and the blood beneath.
Ali began to sob, laughing and crying at once. He thanked Satakel, he thanked Ruptga, he even thanked Jeanne's Eight. Finally, he stood, still laughing softly. "You can heal her, then? You can make her wake up?" Ali felt the relief spreading over his chest, like the shadows he embraced in the dark wood had been driven from his soul, from the world entirely. She would wake up, and then what? Ali couldn't seem to think beyond then, for now, he was only happy, the decision he would have to make all but forgotten.