Purgatory Meets Vylrath

[Vylrath]

…Xexoria?

No. This sand was white.

His body floated momentarily, before he felt the sensation of falling. He fell flat on his face, his dignity ripped clean.

Vylrath was never without humor, the endless stream of spirits surrounded his bleak torso.

“Maybe they need a King here…” His voice echoed back to him like a thousand murmurs. He held his head, the pain surreal. It was like the mother of all migraines.

He saw a figure in the distance, one that seemed to connect with his. It meandered closer, his body, if it could feel tense, went into the familiar stance.

Then, he remembered he was dead - he couldn’t pick a fight even if he desired it.

“Father?!” Roen stepped out from the bleak world surrounding them. The boy saw his father and tried to rush him, but only fell through his body.
Vylrath couldn’t even react to the sight of Roen, but he did feel a pang of guilt knowing that his spirit rested here.

“Still want to kill me, eh? Too bad someone had bigger balls than you and did the job right…”

“Bastard!”

“We all knew that from the beginning…so…any women in purgatory?”

He saw the fury etched all over Roens still-young face. He smiled silently, wondering just how far he could push someone in death. Would they go into madness? Maybe that was where crazed spirits originated from.

“Your mother never missed you…your sister hated you…”

“Shut up!”

“Your kingdom exiled you…bastard son of a bastard!”

Folding his arms across his chest, he continued to spat out insults. What the hell did he have to lose?

His son knelt down against the blanched sand, the hopeless expression forcing a smile across Vylrath’s face.

“Where is the sword, Roen? Tell me where the sword is, and when I get back, maybe I’ll make a monument in your honor!” He smirked again, letting the dullness of his fangs show.

“Why the Hell would you want the sword? We’re dead! You can’t go back…”

“Have you forgotten who I was? I know a woman who would willingly bring me back. I have a soul, now, son.”

“Don’t call me your son…” He saw the anger fuel Roen’s next move and was surprised to see a solid fist meet with his face. Should he even have a face?

Vylrath fell backward, chuckling. “You would’ve made a great warrior, if you hadn’t let that woman take control of you!”

“Speak for yourself…you never did make your own decisions…it was always mom!”

Brushing off the almost crystallized sand, he looked at his son with a serious expression. It was more urgent that he found out the location of the sword. “I promise…I have a different soul now…we can restore Xexoria if you tell me! Maybe I can bring you back…”

“I don’t want to be on any Earth where you step foot!” Barked Roen, the energy he had commanded quickly lost control- it gave him back his bleak form.

Vylrath realized that fueled emotions seemed to give these spirits a wholeness when wielded right.

“Son, for your mother…”

Silence struck between the two rivals. Roen knew how much his mother had fought to restore Xexoria. He stood there, quietly thinking, calculating his words. He knew his father’s past too well. When the demon said one thing, he really meant the other. He couldn’t believe that his father had a new soul.

“Somewhere in Purgatory…it was torn from my body when I was brought here.”

“Shit….maybe we are lost.” He sat down on the sand, watching the bleak world pass by him like a torrent. He was about to say something to Roen, when he noticed that Roen was no longer standing next to him- he had faded out of existence.

He knew that Heaven would be calling his son- his mind quickly turned melancholy. Would he be stuck here? Without either sword, he was pretty much fucked.

[Jen]

"You will be the death of me, Vylrath."

Kahlan materialized from the haze that surrounded Vylrath and she rested a hand on his shoulder. She could touch him and she could hurt him, if she so desired. Kahlan had very strong ties to Purgatory, and the absence of the God of Death greeting her with utter disdain...well that was something the woman missed. Where had Death gone?

She saw the spirits wandering aimlessly, with no purpose and no hope of salvation or damnation. Her eyes settled on Roen Xanathi of Xexoria. He had betrayed so many people for what he percieved to be good. Wars were won and lost on the turn of perception.

"I see you have met your son. I am surprised he is still here. He died after Isabella did so I doubt their paths ever crossed. I doubt he really understands just what his mother has been through because of him."

Kahlan glanced down at Vylrath. He looked like shit and his emotion was written all over his face.

"What are you looking for? By the way, Isabella is pissed. She said to tell you, if I find you, that you are never to put the family through this kind of hysteria ever again. I'm surprised she doubted my ability to find you."

The Queen of Ulster lifted one hand and brought it down heavily on the back of Vylrath's head. It would hurt, a lot by the looks of his face. She crossed her arms across her chest, wearing a gauzy white gown, her wings spread and relaxed - trailing in the sand. Vylrath had never seen her wings before -- and they were large with white and black feathers edged in silver.

[Vylrath]

He had been sitting, peacefully, until he felt the wrath of God. His face met with sand again, but when he got up, it wasn’t God.
“Kahlan?! What in God’s name are you doing here? You should be watching over the others….” Vylrath said this, as if he had made her in charge before he left their world. He listened to her comment about Isabella's mood- it wasn't surprising. "I'll have to make up to her later..."

“He isn’t my son. He was dumb enough to think I had an inkling of emotion for him. I just needed the sword.” He remarked, while getting up from the sand. “I could use your help, Kahlan. He said it’s located in Purgatory- they tore it from his body.”

He didn’t try to see the spirit of his son. He didn’t need to be reminded of a waste of life. Even if Trydian hated him just as much, at least he knew that one son had become a man.

“I’m not leaving until we get the sword…” Vylrath said stubbornly, albeit childishly. It took him a moment, because of the grayed scenery, to see her splendor. Her body looked like it was the only beacon in this world. Her wings caught his breath for a moment, before he realized that he never truly tried to understand her powers.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me anything about you?” He said this out loud, as if to himself.

“Will you help me Kahlan? For the sake of Xexoria?”

[Jen]

"You know more than most people do about me, Vylrath. If I told everyone I knew that I was born in Heaven as an Angel of God, I would have been tied to a stake and burned long ago. Its heresy you know." Kahlan glanced at her feet and moved the grains of crystal, for there was no sand this clear and white unless it were made of pure crystal.

"I fell from Heaven for a trickery that I should have seen through. We see only what we want to see sometimes. I killed another Angel during one of the wars between Heaven and Hell. Hell brought the war to Heaven's gates and the demons knew that I would do anything for Michael and God. They tricked me by putting a glamour on one of my great friends. I killed her and was immediately given over to Lucifer."

Kahlan rested her hand on Vylrath's shoulder as she spoke, her hand clenching somewhat painfully -- the man might swear he heard his own bones creak in protest.

"I knew, of course, after I stabbed her through the heart with my blade. I was the Gift of God -- of course I would know. The glamour fell away from her and she died in my arms. She forgave me, but God and Michael did not. I was sent to Hell with Lucifer. He rejoiced, of course."

Kahlan laughed bitterly for a moment before looking at Vylrath. Her eyes were solemn and her wings rustled for a moment before she tucked them in against her back.

"My wings were pure white once. Oh there are only a sprinkling of black feathers now -- once though they were as black as onyx as I served Lucifer as his mistress. I was broken then, in body and mind. Do you know the myth of Persephone?" She smiled mildly before looking into the distance. "I was given some of the same liberties as Persephone. Allowed to come to the Earthen realm once a year, in the winter -- for a week. I envied her for getting Spring..."

She shook her head as she glanced back at Vylrath. Kahlan kissed his forehead before pointing in the direction they would be headed.

"You have no choice in the matter. If I decide to take your soul back with me then I will. I have, however, some idea of what you desire. There is a foreign object some distance from here -- there are many spirits lingering around it." Kahlan held Vylrath's arm for a moment as she kissed his forehead once more. "Oh, and the end to my misery? Death and God rescued me from Hell. I was supposed to be held in Purgatory for the rest of my existence -- but I learned the realm too well and often escaped until God decided I should be reborn as you know me now. There are reasons why Death and I do not get along. I have taken many souls from him, and he has taken many liberties from me."

Kahlan laughed for a moment, a soft hollow, but beautiful sound.

"Go get the sword."

[Vylrath]

Go get the sword?

That was it? That was the big build up he had been waiting for?

Vylrath stood up, his dignity restored by her kiss, even if it was on the forehead.

“Yeah, sure, go get the sword…what do I do about all of these assholes?” He tried to swim through the wave of souls trying to reach the sword. The souls congested the area, making it almost impossible for him to wade through their mass.

He saw his son in front of the mass, as if controlling the riot. “You little shit…” He knew that his son wouldn’t give up the sword so easily- especially if he had just realized its existence in this plane.

“Move aside, Roen. This belongs to Xexoria!” Surprisingly, Roen didn’t put up a fight. He simply moved aside for his father to finally grasp the weapon. The other souls tried to touch the energy, to feel something semi-living.

“Give this to mother…” Roen handed Vylrath a single pouch that had once been around his neck. Taking the sentimental object, he looked toward his son reluctantly. Seeing his son’s true expression, he knew that he held no ill-will toward his mother.

Without saying another word, he took hold of the swords hilt. The other souls seemed to depart, as if expecting to be destroyed.

“I’ll tell her where you rest. I will make something in your memory, so that our Kingdom will know what you did.”

He left the masses, seeing his son fold in the bleak crowd. Returning to Kahlan, he looked toward her with anticipation.

“I’m ready.”

The sword seemed to know who its new master was.