Our names are our destiny; our truth. Wake up, D.

My head is pounding, a headache out of nowhere as I walk with our guides to their home. I feel as though I'm about to enter our mind once more, yet the darkness never comes. What is this?

Urge answers, the sarcasm dripping from his non-existent tongue. "We've been awake since sunrise, been in a fight to the **** with a horde of zealots, all while being a mental case in the body of a scaly shapeshifter. I think we need some sleep."

Sleep. That sounds good.

We finally reach the place where I can get that sleep. A three story building made entirely of stone, unlike the partially or entirely wooden homes found everywhere else. The bottom floor being a sort of recently used open workshop and smithy, presumably the upper floors are for living in.

Ashes guides us in, and up a staircase to the second floor, whispering. "Pops seems to have just gotten off work. Let us introduce you before you come in, otherwise he might..."

She eyes me up with worry in her expression. "...start swinging whatever he was just working on. No offense."

"None taken."

Slag opens the door, walking around the corner, where he is greeted by a kind, warm, and powerful voice. "Ah my boy! How was work."

The mute signs something to the unseen man. "Oh? Guests? A Priestess with a Red Hood and her charge? Ho-ho! Let them in right this instant young man!"

Ashes walks out from the corner as well, quickly moving out of sight; presumably to embrace her father given his following gentle words. "Oh Ashie! So sweet, like your mother."

I nudge my companions to go first; although something inside me demands otherwise. A feeling that I should be first, in all things. These inherited traits are starting to really piss me off.

Gabriella goes first, greeting the man I still cannot see with "Hello sir. I am Gabriella, priestess of Ariel, the Martyr God."

"Ooh, my my! I haven't seen a follower of that line in quite some time. Not since the times of Yrit or his predecessor. How is the new Martyr? Merciful as ever?" The cheery tone asks.

She responds; loving the opportunity to speak of her kin. "Oh, he's very kind. He's also my brother, you see..."

Cilla however intrudes on the holy woman's parade, walking past her as she closely examines the walls, muttering to herself. "Melted together, just like the stay house..."

"And this must be the one from the Runacathies. Hello dear." The voice says, following with. "I presume your charge wished to be last to show? Do call them forth, I've naught but a bit more light left in my eye this night."

"Ah, yes. Monster? Come along. I am Cilla, by the way." She bows her head after beckoning me forth.

Finally I get a look at this 'Pop', and the room itself. The man sits in a fine leather chair, seemingly of the same make as the one in the stay house; and given his workshop, I wouldn't be surprised if he were the one to have made them both. His features were much like an older version of his son, however, his skin was both darker, and graced by a sparse array of wrinkles. More noticeable were the scars, various cuts, bites, and claw marks raked his bare forearms, one even stretched across his throat; this man has survived his throat being slit. His frizzy hair had patches of grey to them; as did his rather impressive beard. His clothing was similar to that of his children, with the a distinct differance of his footwear.

Fuzzy handmade slippers.

"Interesting. I've seen just about everything the Dark has spawned; yet you and your charge both are new to me. Thank you, my children, you've brought this old man some interesting stories to hear. In the morn, that is, as it is simply too late for tales tonight." He says, rising from his chair, and heading towards a doorway to elsewhere; presumably towards his bed. "Goodnight, Miss Cilla, Miss Gabriella, and Sir Monster."

Ashes turns to us all, pumping her fist in victory, before delivering a high-five to her brother and practically singing out her words. "Yes... that means he's gonna make bacon tomorrow for sure. Anywho, I'll show you to the guest rooms. This place has a lot of spare space."

Indeed it did, as we had to walk past several closed doors of unknown purpose just to reach our rooms; neatly ordered as they were. The hallways are decorated with a variety of finely made weapons, armor pieces, and a few old childish finger paintings; which Ashes tries to rush us past.

"Goodnight you three! We're off tomorrow, so we could have a bit of fun then. Plus... Pop's bacon..." I can nearly feel her hunger as the words leave her mouth.

I gleefully close the door to the guest room, and fall into the nearby comfy, warm bed, holding my one precious coin close.

By whatever number of silly gods there are, let me sleep silently.

I close my eyes.

I... open them? I feel rested, but... where am I?

I now reside in a strange, shattered reflection of the room I was once in. Pieces of its walls float off in a starry open sea of void, as the the bed I lay on begins to float away; up towards a ceiling that has drifted away from the rest of the home.

"Greetings, Monster." A familiar voice says; the voice of the God Hunter, Mortigan. "It seems you've caught my fathers eye."