I rise, hitching my scabbard to my hips. They halt ten paces from me; my reputation precedes them. "Ponce El Gadis," growls a voice from the middle of the crowd of warriors. The largest and most ignorant-looking of the group emerges, a broadsword slung over his back. "We finally got ya were we want ya."

Clever. I say nothing and am about to strike out when I see the woman the hulking mercenary has by her hair--Mitsuko. Her arms are tied behind her back, her skin pale. The mercenary is holding a dagger to her throat. And Mitsuko is doing one of the few things I thought I would never witness he doing. Mitsuko is weeping. Her eyes are closed tight in anger, but tears slide down her cheeks.

"Ponce…" she gasps, "Ponce…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…It was just so…much…money…"

Before I can truly process what she's said, the giant scoffs. "Hur. Your little lady here traded you for petty cash. But we decided the two of ya was better'n the one of ya…"

I glance at Mitsuko. "Don't think she can save you with spells, criminal," says the mage, "I drained her mana."

Mitsuko averts her eyes from mine, forcibly stopping her tears. "I'm sorry…it's just like last time." She closer her eyes and screams, "Just like before!"

Ah. So the mystery is solved. Two years ago. Mitsuko had sold my location to some gang of similar composure to that of which I am facing now. Similar to this…no. I would be unapproachable with my men around me, but I would have sufficient trust in Mitsuko to be led away from them. There was probably an ambush; after that, I can only guess at what happened. But as to why I was left alive…

I gaze again at Mitsuko, and Mitsuko's tears. We have been against odds like this in the past, worse odds, and she has never, never, cried. She barely glances at me, meets my eyes, and it's all I need. I understand.

She cries not because we fight, but because she can do nothing. Two years ago, Mitsuko took the payment, led the men to me. They attacked. And...she couldn't go through with it. She couldn't keep watching me fight the mercenaries…and so she fought. Enough to defeat the men, send them away; but then it was too late. I was dead or unconscious; and the latter would be worse; I knew of her betrayal. She fled.

And then the rumors would reach her, of the man she saved, without his memory. The surprise she must have felt…

It is odd; I thought upon learning the identity of the person who stole my memories, I would feel nothing but pleasure at the opportunity to slay him with no hesitation…but now I feel nothing but mercy towards Mitsuko for her treachery…I am sure I have done worse for less. And now, this new betrayal…feels different. There is no ill intent in either of us, perhaps.

"Hey!" barks the man; apparently I entered a minor reverie. "You gonna give up, or I gonna have to cut her pretty neck?" A drop of blood slides down Mitsuko's neck. I do not respond but for three whispered abracadabras and a gesture of my left hand.

For in my time with Mitsuko I have learned a pinch of sorcery; mostly mere cantrips, unsuitable for battle or much past minor entertainment of peasants. Yet one of the spells I have learned is one nicknamed 'recharge' by the archmages who created it. In short, I can transfer mana through the air…to Mitsuko.

In mere seconds she feels what little mana I can send her course through her body. And in the next second, lightning shoots out of her fingers in six ways. Several men fall instantly. Electricity scorches the face and chest of the man next to her; he roars in pain and releases her.

At the same time, I dash to the closest man to me, my blade drawn and through his chest before he realizes what has happened. Confusion almost instantly reigns, but I keep my bearings well and pounce upon another hunter. As he falls, a yell behind me alerts me to a man swinging a mace; I barely dodge before disconnecting his sword arm from his shoulder. I hear Mitsuko scream for me; I turn.

And it is this that saves my life. I remember myself, remember my position. I am outpowered and surrounded; escape is the priority. As if to punctuate this, an arrow rams itself into my shoulder; it seems the archers have found their aim again. I turn and run, Sanity and Control even now striking an attacker down. An explosion of white flame bursts out of nowhere before me; the mage has fired a spell. I tumble through the fire and flames, feel my clothes and hair burning. Two more arrows find entrance in my flesh. Near-blinded by pain, it takes almost all my will and fortitude to keep running and hold on to my blade.

In four of the longest strides I have ever taken I reach the edge of the enemies' perimeter. Two archers stand in my way, fumbling to get arrows into position in their bows. My right hand uses Sanity and Control to rip open the midriff of one of them; my left hand wrenches the arrow out of the other man's grip and, in one fluid motion, slams in into his chest. I push past the two falling bodies and run into the forest.

Two young people approach me; siblings or friends. One is a sly looking boy, the other a muscular girl. The male wears an odd, garish hat that identifies him as a mage; the girl holds a large hatchet over her shoulder. "Do I know you?" I inquire politely, yet my muscles tense for battle.

"Trendleria told us you'd be showing up soon, El Gadis," says the boy with a small snicker. The girl nods her agreement. "I'm Adram, this is Kimber. Y'got anything y'need us for?"

One of the only advantages of my infamy is a certain popularity. While many of those I meet seek my head, there are often members of my former group that still hold loyalty toward me, and still more that just wish to assist the famous Ponce El Gadis. The girl, for example, looks like she was a woodcutter who elected to a rogue's life due to boredom. Mitsuko would inform sympathizers of my approach well before I entered cities and even before I made the decision to go to the area…she knew me well. Mitsuko assists me even from beyond the grave, it seems.

I do have something for them to accomplish. I ask for a quill and strip of parchment, and Adram produces them for me. I quickly write several things and hand quill and parchment back. "Purchase these things for me, Adlam. You'll find most at an apothecary." Adram takes the list and gives a mock salute before dashing off.

The girl, Kimber, looks a little ashamed or perhaps annoyed; she is probably illiterate. "What 'bout me?" she inquires.

The man with the greatsword is in the middle of the room, the scars from Mitsuko's lightning clear on his face. My own scars are not so easily seen. The remaining three archers stand behind him, and the mage and another soldier stand at his sides. He laughs hideously. "Thought we'd need to find a new way to find ya…but you came right to us!" He sneers. "Kill 'im right this time!"

I say nothing. Anger floods my body. This was the man who killed Mitsuko. And, as I may have mentioned before, I have quite a penchant for revenge.

Three arrows shoot towards me, but I swing Sanity and Control, and with three clinks, the intercepted bolts fall to the ground. I run towards the group, and narrowly dodge a magical streak from the mage. The soldier charges me, but his body is nothing to Sanity and Control; it moves through his body like tissue paper. The greatsword swings towards me. I leap, and am suddenly behind the mage, still reciting arcane words. I thrust my sword and pierce the mage's lung; she falls to the ground, coughing blood. I remove Sanity and Control, wheel on the ball of my foot, and in the same instant, open the chests of the three archers.

The final man roars in anger and attempts to cleave me in two. The giant blade comes down towards me. I raise Sanity and Control to guard and stop the lethal blow; a chip comes off my sword and strikes me in the forehead. The leader roars again and lifts the blade for another strike, but the sword handles too slowly, and it is all I need. In one strike I shove my blade into his throat.

"Die," I order, my savagery startling even me. Nearly a foot of steel emerges from the back of his neck. His face is dominated by surprise, but it is only a second before I remove Sanity and Control via the right half of his neck. It explodes in blood, and he falls to the ground, tiny moans still escaping him. I pray it hurt like nothing Mitsuko could have felt.

The adrenaline drains out of me. Revenge…is nowhere near as sweet as I would hope. The mage extends a hand at me, still gasping for air amid weeps. I kneel down next to her, raise Sanity and Control, and softly and carefully slip it into her heart.

Mitsuko lies, prone and nude, at the back of the cave. I sling the large pouch over my back in front of me; inside are the items I requested of Adram. Two large bottles of pure grain alcohol, and several more vials; these are filled with a chemical called formaldehyde, and then several alchemical draughts and other concoctions. Most I can only hope work.

The alcohol is the most reliable of the preservatives, so I start with it. I uncork the bottle with my teeth and pour the contents over her. The strong-smelling liquid flows down her lifeless body, up her forehead, past her dainty, closed lips and over her eyelids, then down the ridge of her cheekbones and past her ears. There are ragged stitches across her throat where I attempted to sew the area shut; the alcohol touches the wound and flows on to the ground.

I pour the contents over the rest of her body; the alcohol caresses the hills and valleys of her chest and stomach in its soft, careful flow down her body, her flawless skin glistening with the touch of the liquid. It drips to the cave floor without a sound; the silence is deafening. I carefully dig a fingertip in her navel to keep the alcohol from collecting there, and then drain the rest of the bottle over her legs, knees and feet.

I open the second bottle of alcohol. Carefully, I kneel and slide my arm around the small of Mitsuko's back and gently, oh-so-gently lift her up, holding her arms close to her torso. I softly place her chin on my shoulder. It feels lighter than if a swallow had perched there. Her skin is cold, disturbingly cold when compared to the fire she had. Holding her as one might hold one's child, I pour the alcohol over her neck and back. I have had to slice off much of her hair to properly apply the alcohol; she looks horribly vulnerable without it. The alcohol slides down her back and arms like a silent waterfall. I steal a glance at her face; it is peaceful and still beautiful. When the body is half empty, I tilt it upright and carefully lower her to the ground, supporting her head so it doesn't flop grotesquely backwards.

I move to her legs, lifting them gently by her slim ankles and pouring the alcohol onto the soles of her feet. I fancy a girlish giggle in my ears, but I doubt Mitsuko is ticklish. The alcohol gives a lover's embrace to her legs, sliding down and around calf and thigh like a ribbon. The air is thick with the sour smell.

Now I move on to the other bottles; frost is beginning to form on the outsides. The formaldehyde I spread across the wound. The rest I apply wherever the alcohol did not reach; carefully spreading her slightly curled toes and spread the oil into the cracks, lifting her hand and as gently as I can manage and coating her thin fingers with the preservative. I part her eyelids and apply a blue liquid to them, touching as her blankly staring eyes as gently as I can possibly manage. One of the alchemical potions, powder mixed into water, must be ingested; it feels a genuine violation of Mitsuko to have to open her mouth for her and pour the mixture in. I imagine her coughing, choking on the liquid.

I only touch her as delicately as I can manage, yet the oils and gels must go everywhere on her. I ask for very little forgiveness for my actions, but I pray the gods will forgive me for the trespasses I must make with Mitsuko in that dim cavern.

I have heard, in the faintest of arcane gossip, of thanatomurges who have developed resurrection magic; but it is rare, a secret, and very expensive process. I care not. I must find a mage with such power, and use his power…to bring Mitsuko back from beyond the veil. And I must keep her as flawless as possible until then. There is no option.

The vials are empty; before leaving, I very lightly kiss Mitsuko on the forehead, wishing beyond wishes I could feel the slightest bit of warmth beneath my lips. Naturally, I do not. A single strand of my steel-blue hair sticks to her cheek --I leave it there. I turn to exit, to sleep under the stars