Author's notes: Hello everyone. I know I shouldn't start a new story when my other stories have gone without updates for so long. Unfortunately my muse is a fickle thing and the idea for this story has been begging for attention lately. By giving in I hope to get back into writing in general and finally continue my other stories as well.

This is a fusion between Exalted, the role playing game by White Wolf and Berserk, the manga by Kentaro Miura. Knowledge of either setting shouldn't be required to understand what is happening. A word of warning: The world of Berserk is very dark and includes heavy violence, sexual content and other disturbing things. I will strive to handle that in a more or less mature manner, but you have been warned.

Threads of Fate

Chapter 1: A fallen maiden severs a thread

In this world is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of god hovering above? Perhaps Man has no control even over his own will…

'Dawn has come. Finally.'

A gentle wind blew across the land. The pre-dawn light turned the desert sky a beautiful shade of blue while painting the mountaintops gold. All in all it could have been a picture of peace if not for the chopped up corpses of several dozen wild dogs and one horse strewn across the landscape.

Amidst the corpses Farnese de Vandimion, commander of the Knights of the Holy Iron Chains, knelt, her hands bound. The young woman was still shaking from the horrors of the night, but her focus was on the man sitting on the ground a dozen meters away, his enormous sword by his side.

The black swordsman. The fifth harbinger of the apocalypse. The Dark Hawk. Guts.

The man should be her prisoner, had been her prisoner, in fact, before he somehow managed to break out of an iron cage and abduct her from amidst her knights in the process. For two years they had followed the trail of carnage the black swordsman left behind. Yesterday they had finally caught up to him and taken him prisoner, losing several knights in the process.

Last evening the world had still been as right as it could get. Their search was finished, the prisoner secured. Farnese had been at her evening prayer when Guts appeared in her tent and knocked her out with a single blow. When she had come to she had been bound and gagged, thrown over a horse the swordsman had stolen. Soon after, the true horrors of the night had begun.

Farnese couldn't stop shaking. The shadows had come alive. 'God's miracles' Guts had called them. Some had taken possession of a pack of wild dogs and their horse, turning them into monsters. That only stopped after Guts had hacked them to pieces, but the shadows continued attacking throughout the entire night. If not for the swordsman the shadows would have easily overpowered her.

'I am shaking too much with fear to run away. I can't even speak the name of God. I, who call myself one of God's people. Though I have chanted his name thousands upon ten thousands of times… I can't…' Farnese collapsed on herself, her head coming to rest on the ground. 'Beneath the blue sky I am merely tiny, wretched and helpless.'

Unseen, a shadow floating on the wind touched the bare back of the kneeling woman.

"Merely helpless? If you are helpless then where is the sin? No falsehood here. No need to cover it up with your pretty little words," a voice whispered in the back of Farnese's head. "It's in you. You never tell anyone. The desire… the darkness."

"No!" Farnese whispered, trying to dispel the voice by shaking her head.

"Closing up your ears will not help you. This voice comes from within you. It is your feelings."

Before Farnese's eyes the desert fell away, to be replaced by a scene from yesterday, when she had tried to interrogate the black swordsman. " Oh, see? While you whipped that man, his body like steel… you felt it then. Boiling up within yourself. The passions of the flesh. And then… you nearly stroked his body, watching the blood you made."

'No!'

"Waves of pleasure filled you…"

'I do not wish to hear this!'

The scene before her eyes changed to that of her last evening prayer, her back raw and bleeding from her customary self-flagellation.

"But that's not all! You pretend to examine your inner self, but it is always the same. You find pleasure in the pain. You hide beneath the lie that is your faith. All your devotion is caused by your shameful pleasure."

'That's not true!'

"You do nothing that is not inside of yourself. The things that you and others can boast of are nothing. Pathetic woman, you are merely getting drunk on the power of God, because it is terrible knowing nothingness."

Farnese felt the shadow on her back, its tongue licking the side of her face. One hand caressed her breast. The shadow's other hand… her hand reached between her legs.

"Within here, there is nothing but desire. You want things to be made sullied, both yourself and others, both the flesh and the mind. Such dark, dark desire. That is all."

Farnese felt herself falling into the darkness even as tears rolled across her face. The rope the black swordsman had bound her hands with parted like a spider web. She was only vaguely aware of discarding her damaged trousers.

"In here there is no unpleasant god. This throbbing alone is the truth. Trust in me, that is the only thing that is certain. You are too far from God."

It was like a dream. Sharp rocks dug into the soles of her bare feet as she walked towards the black swordsman.

"Oi… What are you playing at?"

Before Farnese knew it she was straddling the sitting man, her tongue slithering along his neck until she tasted a bleeding mark. Such delicious blood. She was only barely aware that she pushed Guts to the ground and easily prevented him from rising, a feat that should have been completely impossible in light of their extreme difference in bulk and strength.

Her tongue found the blood on Guts' bandaged hand and the gore on his blade. Each droplet sent another shiver of ecstasy through her body. Quickly, she shifted the enormous weapon until its grip was in Guts' hand and she straddled its edge. Almost in the same movement she wound the cord that had been her fetter around Guts' neck and pulled it taut.

Farnese once again licked the struggling swordsman's face. "Raise it. Raise that sword slowly. You'll taste it too, this pleasure. Go on. Slowly tear me in two."

Slowly, Farnese pulled the rope around the swordsman's neck tighter. He would have no choice but to raise his sword. And then… then…

A faint scream echoed in Farnese's head as the sun finally cleared the horizon and the rays of morning light hit her. From one moment to the next the world snapped back into proper focus and all strength left her. The cord fell from her hands and she sagged on top of the swordsman.

"Oi, if you're sane again, get the hell off!"

Tears streamed freely from Farnese's eyes while she clutched her head. What had she done? What had she done?

"NOOOOOO!"

The next thing Farnese knew she was kneeling on the ground, crying hysterically. Some part of her mind heard Guts talking to her.

"You are free to go; I don't need you anymore to cover my escape. You should hurry. A storm's coming."

Farnese didn't pay attention. The only thing on her mind was her failure. She had failed her mission, failed her faith, failed herself.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Farnese felt a boot touching her side, but she didn't react. I didn't matter anyway. "Whatever. I figure your knights should find you soon enough."

Farnese didn't notice when the black swordsman left. She remained kneeling on the ground, barely noticing the scorching sun on her bare back.

She didn't know how long she knelt there. In the end only she only came to herself when sand grains hit her raw back. The pain forced her to pay attention to the world. In the time she had spent insensate dark brown clouds had covered the entire sky, plunging the world into twilight. The wind had picked up and was driving large clouds of sand against the mountainside.

'A sandstorm.'

The sudden threat to Farnese's life stirred her into activity. She knew she had to find cover, quickly. Being caught in the open in such a storm would be deadly. Before she had taken twenty steps the world disappeared behind clouds of sand. She couldn't even see the nearest mountainside anymore. Grains of sand painfully pelted her naked body.

She walked blindly for a seeming eternity. Several times strong gusts of wind picked her up and threw her to the ground. Soon she began bleeding from a hundred different scrapes.

'Will I die here?'

As if in answer to her question a wall of rock appeared in front of her. Unfortunately, there was still no cover to be found. She continued staggering alongside the cliff, half-pressed against the mountain.

Farnese almost fell when the rock suddenly disappeared. When she looked she found a tight crevice reaching into the mountain. She immediately squeezed into it as far as she could. There was a slight bend to it and she could no longer see the exit when she could go no further. The occasional shower of sand grains still reached her and gusts of wind constantly howled around her, but in comparison to outside they lacked force.

Farnese didn't know how long she cowered in the crevice, her face pressed against the rock, until the howling storm finally subsided.

Slowly, Farnese forced her aching body to move and leave the crevice. She would have liked nothing more to simply remain still, but if she remained inside her knights had no chance of finding her. Hunger and thirst wracked her body. How long had it been since she last slept?

Once Farnese was free of the confines of the cave she fell to the ground. When she looked up her eyes widened in fear. The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, leaving only the mountaintops bathed in fading light. Night was falling quickly.

Panic overtook Farnese as she stumbled to her feet and started running. She didn't get far before the last of her strength left her and she tumbled to the ground. Her head was spinning with exhaustion. The world had gone dark, only lit by the stars and a two-third full moon.

"Life." "Flesh." "Blood." "Warmth." "Give them…" "To us!"

The whispers started as the shadows began moving, assuming substance they shouldn't have.

"No! No, not again. Please, God, no."

Farnese could do little more than huddle onto herself as the shadowy creatures drew closer, ever more emerging from the darkness. They were all around her. This time there was no black swordsman around to save her, as much as she hated to be reminded of the villain.

One of the things stretched its hands towards her… only to suddenly disintegrate as silver light illuminated the area.

"Have no fear, my lady. These dead things may not touch you as long as I am here."

Farnese's head snapped around, towards the origin of the voice. Then her jaw fell open.

A man was dancing there in the desert sand, a silver sheen emanating from his body. It was the most graceful thing Farnese had ever seen despite the strangeness of the dance itself, so different from everything she had seen in the palaces of the noble and the rich or even in the towns and cities of the commoners. Even the tiniest of movements was heavy with unknown meaning. Where he danced the shadows receded and the monsters fled screaming into the darkness.

The fear left Farnese's heart and the pain from the sunburns and uncounted scrapes faded. Instead she felt heat rising inside of her as she watched the man dance a full circle around her.

"Who are you?" she gasped out from between parched lips, her eyes unable to leave the dancer as he continued his impossibly graceful dance.

"Aerinian is the name under which I entered the ranks of the citizens of the Holy City. I am of the gilmyne, who trace their descent from the Guardian of Sleep, Expressive Soul of The End of All Wisdom, sixth among the souls of the Lawgiver," the man answered in a tongue Farnese couldn't place.

Farnese was still trying to make sense of that introduction when she noticed something. Wherever the man stepped in his ceaseless dancing the ground smoldered and burned. She looked more closely, trying to make out when the man set his feet down. She gasped. There was fire there, whirling silver flames, but no legs. Then she blinked and there was only a man.

Her mind flew back to her time in the convent, before she had become the leader of the church's knights. She remembered studying scripture, of reading of beings made of holy fire. "Are you an angel?"

Aerinian bowed elegantly. "You may call me that, my lady, for indeed I carry a message from the creators of the world. Rejoice, for you have been chosen. I come before you with an offer. Become the champion of the architects of Creation and set the world right. Accept me and the power to change the world will become yours, to wield as you see fit in service of the rightful Masters of All. "

Farnese clenched her fists while fresh tears began welling from her eyes. An irrefutable proof of God's existence stood before her. And yet… and yet... "I am not worthy. I failed…"

Heat caressed her cheeks. The angel had closed the distance, his hands not quite touching her face. His entire being radiated compassion. "Yes, you failed. I know this as do my masters. Yet, that very fact is what brings me before you. My task is to seek out a champion who has tasted defeat and knows failure."

"But why?"

Aerinian's movements became slow, their former energy missing. Incredible sadness gripped Farnese's heart at the sight. It was like watching a flame wither and die. "Because the world is broken, the natural order defiled. The creators of all have been slain, maimed and imprisoned by the treacherous divinities and their pawns. Only humans who share the experience of utter defeat were deemed fit to restore the holy order."

Farnese's head was swimming. It was all too much. She had no idea how that fit into doctrine. And yet, the words rang true. In her entire life she had never felt that the world was completely right. Still, could someone like her ever become a true champion of God? "What if… what if I refuse?"

"Then I will seek another worthy of my masters' gift. Reject me and I will leave. Accept me and I will be at your side forevermore. The choice is entirely yours, my lady." The dancer was silent for a few heartbeats. "I do not wish to pressure you, my lady, but you should know that time is growing short. The power I carry saps my strength with every passing moment. If you plan to refuse, do so now, so that I may seek another before my strength leaves me and I fail in my holy task."

"NO!" Farnese blurted out. If the angel left the shadows would come back. She couldn't face them, not again. All her doubts of her suitability as a champion of God were secondary to that. "I accept."

"Most excellent, my lady," the angel said before he leapt towards her.

The last Farnese de Vandimion saw was a sea of silver flame engulfing her.

Azan watched the last search party return with a sinking heart. He didn't need to hear their report to realize that they had been unsuccessful, too. Their faces and the lack of an additional rider were proof enough. Still, the men had tried and it was his duty to receive them.

The knights saluted as he approached. "Sir Azan. We found no trace of Lady Farnese. We continued searching until it grew too dark to see anything. We almost didn't find the way back to the camp."

Azan nodded. "I understand. Get some rest. We will continue the search tomorrow at first light."

The old knight shook his head in dismay as soon as the tired knights were out of sight. This was a catastrophe. Worse, it was his fault. Lady Farnese might have been their commander, but she wasn't a true warrior. By tradition the Knights of the Holy Iron Chain were commanded by a woman. As her lieutenant it was his duty to take care of the day-to-day tasks of running the group.

The last day really had been a string of terrible mistakes. From the losses suffered while taking the black swordsman prisoner over letting him escape the same evening to bungling the pursuit. His knights had failed in the most unbecoming manner.

Yet, the fault lay with him. He should have trained them better. He had been a knight for more than thirty years. Most of them were on their first true assignment. Who if not him should have seen to it that they were prepared properly?

Azan suppressed a sigh when he entered the sick tent. He couldn't permit himself to dwell on these things. The patients were all asleep or at least resting and he didn't want to disturb them. "Any change?"

The surgeon shrugged. "He breathes easier. That is a hopeful sign, I think, but he is feverish. He may wake quickly or never. I did all I could. Now we can only hope. Head injuries are always difficult."

Azan put a hand on the man's shoulder. "I understand. Get some sleep. You will need to be alert tomorrow."

Nodding gratefully, the surgeon retreated. He had been busier today than anytime during the last two years of their mission. The black swordsman had seen to it.

Azan grabbed a stool and sat down at the bedside of the young man he had come to see. Serpico, that was his name. He had been with Lady Farnese before she became the knights' commander and had become one of the order's heralds. In the past Azan had taken him for a fool who liked to make fun of their duties and calling, but now he was reconsidering in light of recent events. The young man was the only one who had managed to pursue the fleeing black swordsmen into the night when the rest of the camp had descended into chaos.

Unfortunately, riding at night here in the mountains was dangerous and Serpico had come to harm without achieving his goal. When Azan sent out search parties the next morning they had found an unconscious Serpico suffering from a serious head wound. His horse had fared worse and broken two legs. They had to put the poor animal down. The knights had managed to bring the young man back before the sandstorm made continuing the search an exercise in futility. After it subsided they tried again, but the time was just too short and the area too large. The sandstorm had buried all tracks, too.

Hours passed slowly, spent in self-recrimination. It was far past midnight in Azan's estimate when he noticed Serpico's eyelids fluttering.

Suddenly Serpico's eyes opened and he shot upright. "LADY FARNESE!"

Azan gently but firmly pushed the man down. "Calm yourself."

"Lady Farnese! Is she safe?" Serpico asked urgently, but Azan could already see his eyes drifting shut again.

"We have yet to find her, but fear not. We will resume the search tomorrow at first light."

Azan dearly hoped it wouldn't be too late by then. The desert wasn't kind.

The desert, the shadow, the wind, the city, the crystal flame and the sea joined their voices.

See the injustice that has been inflicted on us. See how we have been maimed by the treacherous gods. See how they have marred the proper order. You have received power. You have received guidance. Now go, our Chosen, and set the world right.

Farnese opened her eyes. She was back in the deserted mountains. Power pulsed inside her while a storm of heatless green and silver flames raged around her. The shattered remnants of something were strewn across the ground. It seemed to be nighttime, with a dark, star-speckled sky above her.

Above all, she felt elation incomparable to anything in her previous life. It was hard to describe what Farnese had just experienced. She had felt God's proximity and endless grace. An alien and yet strangely beautiful city had stretched before her, layer upon layer wrapped around a heart of green flame. From that awe-inspiring flame God had spoken to her.

There had been visions of other beings, subservient to God yet infinitely more than any human could ever hope to be.

A dragon made of the shadow of every creature that ever lived.

A bottomless sea of bright colors, enclosing everything in a motherly embrace.

A pattern formed by innumerable crystal spheres containing a colorless fire, whispering in a thousand voices.

A red wind that spread silence, reveling in the sheer joy of freedom.

And, most importantly, a silver desert stretching to infinity under a black firmament.

Farnese had gazed into the heart of the desert and seen the princess of azure and crimson on her throne of stained glass and listened to her imperious words. She couldn't quite recall them now, but their essence remained with her: Power was everything.

For so long she had repeated empty words, sought shelter behind walls of false faith. Now she had glimpsed the truth. It was a revelation.

"That was… remarkable. Oh my Princess of the Green Sun, what an honor for one such as me to partake in this glory."

Farnese looked around. There was no trace of the angel. "Aerinian? Where are you?"

"We have become one, my ardent lady, for now and forever. One body, two minds. For as long as you live I will always be at your side, as was promised." Farnese felt as if someone was sighing in her head. "I must say, it is a peculiar feeling to be clad in flesh and without a body of my own. This is a most disturbing experience, but I will manage."

"You are possessing me?"

"Oh no, no. Fear not, my fervid princess. I feel what you feel, but the body is entirely yours. I now simply number among your souls."

That brought Farnese up short. The angel had said that when he made his offer, but she didn't realize the full meaning then. She didn't know what to think about it. To have a divine emissary at her side and never to be alone again…

Farnese shook her head. There would be time to think of it later. The feeling of elation was fading and she able to think more clearly. That brought a certain fact to the forefront. "Why am I on fire? I am not burning."

"This is your anima banner, my princess, a sign of your exalted power. Some of the essence that is yours to command is overflowing from your soul. Once you stop stoking it the anima banner should begin to die down. I recommend you do so if you do not wish to draw unwelcome attention."

Farnese was about to ask how when she felt it. She didn't know how she understood it, but she did. There was maelstrom of power pulsing inside of her fed by a spring of unbelievable strength. As she willed it the spring ceased and the maelstrom began to calm, although as far as she could see it had no effect on the radiance around her. "Why are you calling me princess?"

"Because this is what you are, a Princess of the Green Sun, a peer of the Holy City, an Exalted of the true masters of Creation."

Farnese was feeling overwhelmed. Instead of asking for further explanation she picked up one of the fragments lying around. It looked to be made of spun silver and was in the process of dissolving into nothingness. "What is this thing?"

"I would say these are the remnants of our chrysalis. I was told to expect something like this. There is no need to worry, the pieces will disappear soon."

"Chrysalis?"

"You have been remade in body and soul in order to wield the power you now carry, my lady. That required some time and my independent existence. Depending on the time of the year we spent either one or five days inside. Since I can see stars I think it safe to assume it isn't Calibration."

Farnese blinked in confusion. "What is calibration?"

For several seconds there was silence. "The time between years when there are no stars in the sky, no sun or moon. Day never breaks, but night fails to fall as the Loom of Fate is reset and newly calibrated. That calibration, you know?"

"I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"You do not… Surely my lady is making a jest?"

"No, I don't. Why would I?"

"Oh. Oh dear." Once again there was silence.

"Aerinian, what is the matter?" Farnese received no answer. "Aerinian?"

"I apologize, my lady. It seems there is a slight problem with the information I have been provided with. Not to worry. I'm sure we will figure out everything in time."

"OVER THERE!"

The loud shout drew Farnese' attention back to the outside world. A group of three mounted knights was galloping towards her. She noted that the glow around her had died down considerably, but she was still illuminating her surroundings. The knights would have been able to spot her from far away in the dark night.

When the three men came to a stop before her they hesitated, staring at her with wide eyes. Farnese realized that she was completely naked and, more importantly, glowing with green and silver light. That would pose trouble. If she wasn't careful it might be misinterpreted as witchcraft, ending with her burned on the stake. She had burned enough heretics to know how such things went. Besides, this was a genuine miracle and she couldn't allow her leadership of the knights to be questioned if she wanted to continue doing God's work.

In that moment one of the knights, Frederico she thought was his name, found his tongue. "Lady Farnese! You are still alive? We feared the worst. It has been two days. What happened?"

"An angel appeared and saved me from death." Farnese smiled serenely as she felt power lacing her words. "God has bestowed me with a holy mission. It is a miracle."

The knights looked at each other hesitantly. That was good; at least they didn't do anything hasty.

"What are you waiting for? Bring me back to camp. And give me a cloak," she ordered.

It took longer than Farnese would have liked for them to react to her order (and a half-whispered 'let Sir Azan deal with her'), but a short time later she was finally on the way back to the main camp. She even stopped glowing after a while, although there still seemed to be a source of illumination on her forehead.

"That would be your caste mark, I believe. It signifies your fealty to the Lawgiver. It should fade in a little while. My princess, could I trouble you for an explanation? I confess I am unfamiliar with the affairs of your world in general and your exact circumstances in particular, your worthiness aside. You need not speak; I can hear your thoughts."

'What do you wish to know?'

"I already gathered these people are your subordinates, my princess. I would be thankful if you would elaborate."

'These are some of my knights. I am the commander of the Knights of the Holy Iron Chain, the premier knightly order of the Holy Church.' And because it wouldn't be right to lie to an angel even by omission she added, 'In truth, the order was considered ceremonial and hardly ever saw combat. The members are spoiled sons of important nobles who wished to avoid any serious confrontation and have a fast but uneventful career. By tradition the order is commanded by a woman and since I belong to the powerful Vandimion family I was chosen to lead it three years ago.'

There was thoughtful humming in Farnese's head. "I understand, my princess. Thank you for the explanation. If you permit I have more questions I wish to ask, but I think we are nearing our destination."

Farnese looked up and saw it was true. She could see the lights of the camp in the distance. One of the knights rode ahead to announce them. Thankfully most of the camp was asleep so only a few had gathered by the time she arrived, headed by Sir Azan.

Azan's eyes widened when he got a good look at her. She could tell he was looking at the mark on her forehead. Then he went to a knee. "Lady Farnese. Thank God you have returned. We feared for your life."

"God granted me a miracle. An angel saved me." She gestured towards her forehead. "This is the sign of his favor."

The old knight stared at her with an unreadable expression. Farnese met his gaze calmly.

"I see." Azan shook himself. "You must be cold, Lady Farnese. Please, come with me. Filipe, help the commander dismount."

Farnese let the knight help her dismount and followed Azan, but her thoughts were on another matter. It was true, the night was very cold. She could see the fogging breath of the men and she was only wearing a borrowed cloak. Yet, she only felt the cold in an abstract sense. She knew it was there, but it didn't bother her in the slightest. Neither did the occasional sharp stone on the ground. Then she remembered something else.

"Where is Serpico?"

"In the surgeon's tent, recovering. We had to tie him down to prevent him from joining the search in spite of his injuries. He followed you yesterday, but his horse stumbled and threw him off. He suffered a nasty head wound."

Farnese stopped in her tracks. Serpico had been her companion and servant since childhood and was perhaps her only friend in the whole world… insofar that she had friends at all.

"How is he?"

"Feverish, but the surgeon and apothecary agree he is on the way to recovery. He is a tough one. We can visit him later, my lady, but we should get you into proper attire first. I imagine some food and drink is necessary as well after your ordeal," Azan said,

"Yes," Farnese agreed even if she was feeling neither hunger nor thirst. She continued walking, but they didn't go where she was expecting. "This isn't my tent."

Azan sighed. "The black swordsman set it on fire when he escaped. The fire spread, but we got it under control before we lost more than a dozen tents. Thankfully there were no deaths, but multiple knights and grooms were injured. I had this tent set aside for you. Forgive me, Commander."

Farnese shook her head. How much damage could a single man do? "I see."

"I will wait outside until you are ready, my lady."

Entering the tent, Farnese saw that some of her luggage had found its way here, but much was missing. A field table complete with four stools was in the center of the tent. Her armor was standing in the corner, looking scorched but largely intact. It was perhaps fortunate that she had not unloaded everything from the pack mules when they made camp. She picked out new clothing before discarding the cloak.

When Farnese washed off the dust she noticed all her injuries were gone. The last day was mostly a haze interspersed with stark terror, but she was sure she had been badly sun burnt at least. Then again, God had remade her according to the angel. Injuries disappearing was only to be expected.

'I can't afford to get distracted.'

The time to get cleaned up offered only a short respite. She needed a plan. The danger of being denounced as a witch or heretic was not over. Sir Azan was perhaps the most important to convince. The younger knights would follow his lead. The old man was not only a knight, he was a priest as well.

'What can I tell him?'

Farnese doubted he would easily believe her about the shadow monsters in the darkness. In his position she certainly wouldn't. That portion of the events she would keep to herself. Most of the rest was believable enough, with the exception of Aerinian's appearance. Keeping the fact that something beyond normal had happened was impossible to keep secret thanks to her anima and caste mark.

On the other hand, there were enough accounts of angels appearing before holy men in the desert mentioned in scripture. She knew Azan. The man was honorable to a fault and wanted to believe the best of his fellow knights, which included her. Something close to the truth would probably serve her best. Yet, for that to work she would have to trust him. That would be difficult. Despite serving together for three years she wasn't close to anyone aside from Serpico.

When Farnese was finished dressing and couldn't delay any longer she took a deep breath. "Sir Azan, you may come in now."

Azan entered, a jug and a plate of food in hand. She gestured to the table. "Please, take a seat."

The big man settled down, looking very uncomfortable. "Lady Farnese, forgive me my impudence, but I have to ask: What happened to you while you were gone? You are changed. The mark on your forehead… your hair…"

"My hair? What about it?"

Azan made to say something several times until he finally found the words. "It is silver."

For a moment Farnese stared at Azan uncomprehendingly. Then she pulled a few strands of her hair in front of her eyes. The knight had spoken true. Her formerly blonde hair was now silver. Not grey like that of old people, but a true, gleaming metallic color.

For the first time since arriving in the camp Aerinian's voice intruded. "This is a side-effect of our union, I believe. My masters mentioned the possibility of minor physical changes."

"I… I don't know. This is the first time I noticed it." Farnese took a deep breath. She had to stay on track. She needed to convince Azan. "You wanted to know what happened to me, Sir Azan. The black swordsman surprised me in my tent and knocked me out. I woke up bound and slung over his horse somewhere in the desert. The horse threw us off a bit later. We didn't move during the night. Come morning, the black swordsman left because he had no use for me any longer."

Since Azan nodded in acceptance Farnese continued, "I tried to find the way back, but I had no idea where I was. Then the sandstorm started. I barely managed to find cover in a crevice in the mountainside. When the sandstorm stopped it was already growing dark. I tried to walk further, but I couldn't. I was so weak from sunburn, hunger, thirst and exhaustion that I couldn't walk another step. I thought I would die. Then an angel appeared before me."

"An angel?"

"A beautiful figure wreathed in holy flames. He spoke to me. I have been chosen by God as Heaven's champion. He healed my wounds and gave me God's blessing. When I woke again the knights found me." Farnese paused a moment to catch breath and calm herself. The memory made her heart beat faster. "The world is broken, Sir Azan. I will fix it. I do not yet know how, but I will. God has granted me power. This mark is a symbol of it. It signifies my fealty to…"

"Cecelyne, the Endless Desert, the Lawgiver."

"… one of God's highest angels. Please, Sir Azan, I ask for your help. Two years ago you saw the red lake of blood. You saw the carnage the black swordsman has left behind. You know the prophecy of the coming darkness. You, I and the knights, we will stand against it. Can I count on you?"

Farnese fell silent. This had taken a lot out of her. Now it was up to Azan. The man had intently followed her every word. Now he was sitting back, a look of deep contemplation on his borad, bearded face. Farnese forced herself to stay still. Saying more wouldn't help.

Finally, after almost two minutes Azan broke the silence. "I believe you. You have never lied to me in the three years I have served under your command." He took a deep breath. "Others in the church might not see it that way."

Farnese nodded somberly even as relief flooded her. "I know. There is the danger of me being branded a heretic. The mark on my forehead is particularly problematic. It will disappear soon, although it and my light will reappear if I begin to fully use the power God has granted me."

"We cannot keep it secret. Too many of the knights have seen you. People talk." Azan tugged at his mustache. "Perhaps it would be best if we don't deny anything, but announce only part of the truth. God has performed a miracle by saving you from death in the desert. The stories will grow on their own. Soon it will simply be one tale among others. Many in the church will dismiss such a claim as self-aggrandizement and give it no further thought."

Farnese smiled, a little wryly. "That is true. We both know how few people in the higher echelons of the church truly believe in God's teachings."

Azan hesitated, looking even more uncomfortable than before."Do you plan on demanding any changes in doctrine?"

"No. The Vandimion name offers me protection, but I'm not stupid enough to think I could get away with such a thing." Farnese sighed. "Besides, I do not yet know what to do. We have followed the black swordsman's trail for two years. Can we continue to follow him?"

The old knight shook his head. "The sandstorm buried all tracks. We would have to begin the search anew somewhere else. That is, if we hear of a sighting in time to get there and pick up the trail. I do not consider that likely to happen anytime soon. Additionally, we lost a lot of supplies to the fire that man started. We need to reprovision. Then there is the matter of our recent losses…"

Farnese winced. "Yes. I will have to answer to the Vatican council for the deaths and report our failure." There was little choice to be had in light of the state of things. She didn't look forward to that conversation. Her failure probably wasn't serious enough to warrant her removal as commander of the knights, but she would lose influence and goodwill. "We will return to the Vatican as soon as the wounded are fit for transport. Now I wish to visit Serpico and the other wounded."

"As you command, Lady Farnese." Azan stood up. "I see the mark on your forehead is fading now."

Without a mirror Farnese couldn't check, but when she held her hand before her face she saw the reflected glow gutter out and disappear.

'Good. That will make things easier.'

The camp was mostly dark and quiet. Only a few torches lit the night. She could see a few guards making their rounds. After a quiet chat with the helpers in the sick tent and looking at each patient she sent Sir Azan away.

Finally alone, Farnese sat down at Serpico's side. Her servant looked awfully weak and frail in the lantern light, his head swaddled in bandages. She took a wet cloth and wiped his sweat away. It reminded her of the time when they had first met so many years ago, when they both had been children. When traveling in her carriage she had spied the then-unknown boy lying half-dead in the snow in an alley, beaten black and blue. It had only been a whim that she took him back to her mansion. She had performed the same service back then.

"You aren't allowed to die, Serpico. You belong to me. You swore to it. Remember?" Farnese whispered.

Very slowly Serpico's eyes opened. "Lady Farnese. You are back? Is this a dream?"

"No dream, Serpico," she said even as the man's eyes closed again. "No dream at all."

Farnese couldn't help but smile. God had revealed himself to her and chosen her as his champion. At long last she had found her purpose in life. For the first time she felt she had control over her own destiny.