A cool mist came in over the forgotten isles some few days later, a white haze that blanketed everything in an enveloping shroud that made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of oneself.
Engulfed by the featureless void, the castle of the Cabal might well have been floating in nothingness.
Raziel paused to look out the window for perhaps the tenth time, a nervous habit he seemed to be developing unconsciously. Still nothing, not so much as the stone of the cliff on which the castle was built was visible. Raziel was finding that he really didn’t like fog.
After the cataclysmic events and the collapse of the Ziggurat tower, the quiet refuge of the fortress was even more disturbing than the battle itself.
Since then, Raziel had tested the limitations of his restored ability to summon the wraith blade. It was no longer a symbiotic weapon or even a parasite. It was a projection of his own soul; forged into the blade his body was familiar with. Ishtar’s gift had allowed him to simultaneously exist as both a wraith and a wraith-blade.
This was not without consequence however. As the blade was now a projection of his soul it fed of his own energy in order to manifest. The longer he summoned the sword the larger its drain on his reverses became.
He would have to ration its use in battle for moments only when such strength was necessary.
As happy as he had been to find it gone upon his awakening, its return did not cause him the opposite effect as perhaps he might have expected. For a long time the Reaver had been a symbol of his inescapable fate, damnation to an eternity of insanity within the sword. Its absence had meant his freedom and its return might have meant his doom, had he not realised the truth.
He was the sword and the sword was him. They were not too beings but one, now finally unified in body, mind and soul. The blade was his to wield with no pre-determined destiny to drag him to oblivion.
He turned then, hearing a soft click at the door at the far end of the corridor. Sally came out, holding a silver try in one hand. With no battle to fight and thus no need for her chameleonic stealth, she was wearing clothes over her scales; a thick garment made of wool from the tough mountain goats that grazed further inland on his rocky island. While scales allowed her to camouflage herself far more easily, it had the draw back of not keeping her body warm on his cold island and so whenever possible she wore thick, large clothes to insulate herself.
The expression on her face as she came through the door was one of dismal oppression. Sally was, at Vorador’s request, tending to the needs Janos Audron. After his captivity in the demon dimension and the abuse he suffered at Ishtar’s hands, Janos was terribly weak and malnourished. Vorador had been so concerned for his sire’s health he had been prepared to kill every human on the island and drain their blood. Sally however had assured him that she had had enough stock piled through the Serioli method of a surplus of bottled blood; so that they could spare their live flock for further rationing.
“How is he?” Raziel asked as she came near. She stopped and looked at him for a moment and then shook her head. Raziel noticed faintly she seemed not to have fed recently herself.
“He drinks so little each day.” She said warily. “I try to get him to take more but barely even notices my presence, most of the time.” She lifted a hand and ran her talons through her short hair. “I never knew Janos personally, only from what my sire said about him but it pains me to see what they have done to him.”
Raziel took his with relative calm and nodded once. Then he proceeded past her to the door through which she had come.
Janos had been placed in a bed in one of the largest chambers, in what Raziel highly supposed had been Vorador’s own bedroom. It was a vast room with many elaborate pieces of furniture carved out of stone, rather than wood. As the island did not have a large section of forest, almost all furniture had been carved from the abundance of other building materials.
The one exception in the room was the large bed Janos was lying in, propped up against pillows of mountain goat wool.
He seemed no better than he had been when they had rescued him, albeit cleaner and with his wounds tended to.
Raziel approached the bed mournfully, his eyes never leaving the ravaged face of the tenth guardian. Janos was lying there; eyes open looking up at the ceiling above and seemed not to even notice him approach.
.
“Janos had committed sins like the rest of us this I know knew, but his long vigil over the Soul Reaver blade waiting for me had more than made up for them.”
.
The blue wraith looked over the one he had called his mentor, noting down every blemish that had distorted the body and engraving them in his memory; forcing him to look upon the damage that through his negligence he had inflicted on Janos.
.
“To see him reduced to a hollowed out shell was almost more than I could bear. All he had ever done was support me as best he could and I had left him to suffer this fate, heedful of only my own well being.”
.
Leaning over the bed, he tried to catch the attention of the ancient vampire.
“Janos.” He began, slowly and in as low a tone as possible. “Can you hear me?”
The golden eyes animated themselves, turning to look full at him in response.
“Do you know who I am?” Raziel pressed, hoping that if Audron was going to recognise and respond to Vorador then he might do the same for him. As it was, Janos did seem to recognise him but not in the way he had hoped.
The winged ancient shook his head on his pillow, a strained expression of intense inner turmoil twisting is stretched face.
“No. no you can’t be here!” He said. His voice at least seemed improved since his rescue, far less hoarse. “I killed you! They made me kill you!”
Raziel stared at him, dawning comprehension reflected in his slowly widening eyes.
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“And suddenly I realised why Janos was so insistent that I could not be real. The last time he had seen me, he had been possessed by the Hylden general, the being known as Hash,Ak,Gik.
.
That had been when the Pillars had collapsed and the Hylden lord had leapt from Mortanious’ dead body to possess that of the recently revived Janos, the element they needed in order to ensure that their plans succeeded. Janos had fought the possession as much as he could but the will of the Hylden had been stronger.
.
“Under the Hylden’s control, Janos had engaged me in battle and had destroyed my physical body, returning me to the foot of my former master. Janos did not know that as a being of the spectral world, I can not die in the physical and thus had assumed that he had destroyed the saviour he had waited so long for. The guilt of that must have slowly driven him over the edge into madness.”
.
That realization twisted inside Raziel like a knife. He wanted to tell Janos that it had not been his fault, that had had not killed him, that everything he had suffered so much for had not been lost. But he knew that in his present state, Janos would not understand his words and even if he did, he would simply believe himself to be suffering delusions through on by his dementia.
Perhaps time would alter this, but for the moment at least Janos was trapped in a personal cage of guilt and horror.
In this, there was nothing Raziel could do for him and his mere presence was causing him a great deal of anxiety.  
 “I’m so sorry…” The blue wraith managed to say before he got up and left, leaving Janos to find a way out of his inner prison himself.
In the massive dinning hall of the fortress, Vorador was pacing back and forth with his arms crossed behind him in the small of his back.
When Raziel entered, he saw the ancient vampire was not alone. Standing off to one side unobtrusively was one of the Serioli, winged tucked behind his back tightly to keep them out of the way in the close confines with the tables and chairs all around. His armour was dented in many places and with the curved axe at his side and the long scar across his face, Raziel recognised him as Ansu, the right hand man of Ajatar Cabre.  
“The loss of the leaders of all three houses have sent the Hylden into chaos, nothing is organised.” He was saying and Raziel kept quiet as to not interrupt them. Vorador noticed his entry but said nothing to it either. Clearly Ansu was in the middle of some sort of report.
Ever since the joint attack on the Ziggurat, Ajatar was keeping in close communication with Vorador; keeping him updated regularly on Serioli and Hylden activities. “No one is in control.”
Vorador snorted derisively at this.
“Fine, then let it stay that way.” He remarked and he sounded satisfied. The recovery of Janos had put some more of his old fire back into him. Ansu however did not look quite so optimistic about the state of affairs.
“Someone is eventually going to restore order.” He said with a grim expression. Vorador nodded once.
“Eventually.” He repeated and raised a hand to flick a talon. “But eventually can be a very long time.” Turning he looked back over his shoulder. “I trust Ajatar has the matter in hand?”
Ansu nodded as Raziel came by. His eyes tracked the blue wraith with a quizzical expression but he made no comment.
“We are no match for the entire Hylden nation in a direct confrontation, but the grandmaster will keep her attention on them.” The winged ancient remarked “We will have advance warning of any attack at the very least.”
Vorador nodded once sharply in approval. Even with their leaders gone, the Hylden were still a powerful threat not to be underestimated. All that kept them from beginning their quest to destroy all other races in Nosgoth was their complete disorganisation.
Unexpectedly the green ancient turned to look at Raziel, who by now was over by the fire place staring into the flames.
“Raziel, where do you go now?” He asked in a polite but curious tone. That was a good question. With Janos Audron freed from captivity, the plot of the priest Ishtar thwarted and allies safe from harm for the moment at least; what was there left to do now?
It was indeed a good question but was it was almost a very simple one to answer. Indeed there was only thing to do now.
“To correct another of my mistakes.” He replied and promptly left the fortress that very same night.
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“And so I journeyed north, through the frozen wastes of Nosgoth’s mountains to the sunken ravine which housed a cavern known to humans as The Oracle’s cave.
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Briefly on his way north he surveyed the Human Citadel and saw that with the Hylden gone, withdrawn back to their newly settled country in the east, the humans had spread out to claim a large chunk of the Melchiahim and Dumahim territory. They had retained control over the Sanctuary of the clans and had torn down all the old clan banners from the structure. Over that Raziel had only the mildest irritation.
North from there was the empty city of the Dumahim, still in relatively good condition despite being abandoned and home to only a scavenging vampires. In the canyons beyond the city, leading up into the mountains was a large valley where a door opened into the depths of the earth. It was open now to the almost perpetual snow that blanketed the mountains.
.
“Here, Moebius the time streamer had played the part of the soothsayer when Kain had sought him out on his quest to murder the Circle of Nine. Beyond this was the Chronoplast device, the greatest of the time streaming chambers in Nosgoth.”
.
The last time Raziel had come here it had been in pursuit of Kain. He had followed him down into the ancient device and then back through time itself, not aware that this had been Kain’s intention from the start. Raziel did not pretend he knew how to work the machine but it was his only means of doing what he needed to do.
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“And of course, as I had anticipated, she was there waiting for me.”
.
He was not at all surprised as, when he approached the cavern entrance, he saw a lone feminine figure standing in the archway of stone watching him come. Being the only Hylden that might be called ‘attractive’, it could be only one person.
“Hello Seer.” He called to her, even before she had come fully into sight. She smiled at him warmly and her happiness seemed not to be forced at all.
He supposed, now, he knew why.
“You are prompt, my messiah.” She said, clearly having been expecting him. “Are you ready to begin your new quest?”
“New quest?” He feigned ignorance anyway to test her. She looked at him with disapproval but her lips twitched in an ironic smile.
“Come now, we both know what it is.” She said. “Don’t make me repeat the obvious.”
She stepped aside and beckoned him to follow her inside. As it was very cold and the snow almost knee deep outside, Raziel did just that. These caverns had once been used by Turelim as a sanctuary but most of them had migrated away. He could smell and hear only a few in the deeper tunnels.
“Kain still lives.” The seer said as they came down a tunnel with a steep incline.
“And I suppose I am the only one who can find him.” Raziel asked with ironic condescension.
“Indeed you are.” She said back in the same tone. Raziel looked sidelong at her as they walked.
“You goaded Divus, my past incarnation, into fighting me to convince me of it.” He said, only just coming to that conclusion himself.
She drew in a deep breath and let it out, clapping her hands together in front of herself.
“Well done.” She said. “You’ve grown quite quick witted.”
“I have to be to ensure I am not manipulated.” Raziel said, turning his head to look at her sidelong. The silence was maintained for a moment before he carried on. “For instance, I have noticed something very peculiar.”
The Seer looked up at the ceiling as they walked, smiling a sort of weary grin.
“Oh? And what’s that?” She asked, her voice beginning to echo as they entered a large vaulted chamber; the very same chamber where Moebius had entertained the gullible pilgrims that sought the advice of the oracle. That tripod was still there, as well as the badly rusted iron pot that hung from its centre.
Beyond it was the doorway that led down to the true complex and the large expanse of the Chronoplast.
Here Raziel stopped and looked at sharply, standing just in front as if to bar her way with his body. His entire demeanour had changed to a severe posture, eyes narrowed and brow drawn down.
“That I’ve never heard anyone give a name when referring to you.” He said decisively never taking his eyes from her face. “Even Vorador simply calls you ‘the Seer’.”
The Hylden woman continued smiling although there was something of a small twitch to the side of her mouth.
“What good would knowing my real name do you anyway?” She asked spreading her arms in a supercilious manner, gesturing to dismiss the matter as not important. Her poker face was nowhere near as good as Moebius’ had been and Raziel knew instantly that he was right in his suspicions.
“Oh it would do me the world of good.” He began slowly, stepping in front of her fully to make his intentions quite clear. They were not going on until this matter was resolved. “It makes me understand.”
The Seer did not immediately react but she tended to lean away from him. He had not, after all, greeted her cordially upon their first meeting and she seemed not to have forgotten that.
“Before he died, Ishtar accused me working for someone he called Princess Damkina.” Raziel spoke the name slowly, letting the echo die away before he carried on. “He thought I was a tool used by this potentate to remove the various political enemies she might face if she were to assume control over the Hylden.”
The silence between them dragged on for a long time after this, broken only by the sound of dripping water coming from somewhere deep in the cavern system around them.
The Seer did not waver meeting his gaze but eventually he saw something of a wry acceptance come into her eyes. Her smile widened and then she looked down at the ground almost sheepishly.
“And he was right, wasn’t he?” Raziel concluded, letting out his breath and letting his posture relax.
With something of an amused chuckle at being manipulated again, he shook his head and mentally kicked himself for being so blind to have not seen this first. He was not angry for the misdirection for it had cost him nothing despite a bit of pride and found that, given everything he had been through, he could let it slide.
He stood aside, beckoning with a hand for her to carry on with him to the Chronoplast.
“A pleasure to meet you, Damkina.” He said with a short bow.