The waves crashed over the boat, drenching it and the crew aboard alike. Many of the shriveled undead hissed disdain for the soaking mess, while their wulven counterparts seemed to actually be enjoying themselves aboard the vessel. There might have even been a joke in there somewhere, had any of the human passengers locked in the steerage below still possessed any sense of humor. Instead, they huddled together to keep from catching illness from the icy water. Some mumbled to themselves about the injustices that had befallen them, while others looked to their captors with some hope of freedom.
Carmila

Since the death of King Rothem


Then her family and all of the other palace servants had been gathered together, chained, and hurled onto a boat to somewhere only the Seven knew. Her mother had already died during the trip, one of many who had been unable to cope with the bitter chill and lack of proper meals. Despite his outward strength, the young girl wondered if her father would be far behind. Still, the man seemed at peace staring at his enemies with dire intent. It was as if he intended to end his life on their swords.
Breaking her troubled thoughts, a trumpet's tune pierced the silence of the hold. Someone on board was signaling that land had been spotted; they'd reach their destination soon.
Suddenly, the door to their tiny makeshift cell sprung forward and her fellow servants were all rushed forth into the boats meant for landfall in places with no docks. Carmila

Inside, the walls were covered in stone that had obviously been cut and stacked with great care. They were inscribed with strange markings that might have been letters, but none she'd ever seen before. Something deep inside told her that the majority of those who now controlled the building wouldn't fare much better at understanding them either. Yet they didn't hesitate to usher her deeper and deeper into the darkness.
At long last they came to a large chamber with a series of strange circles grouped in the center. The circles intersected each other, with a series of smaller ones lining the edges. Each of these smaller circles contained a strange crystal. They seemed to emanate small light, yet the room around them appeared dimmer. The effect was offsetting, and Carmila

A man she'd only seen in paintings of his glory days appeared then, slowly looking over her and the rest of the prisoners. Why Arthyle, a hero in the histories of Layar, had turned on his people to help this atrocious army was beyond her. Yet here the man was, brought back from death itself, selecting the first victims of whatever mad thing the circles did.
Eventually, when Arthyle was satisfied, those who had been sickly and weak on the ride over were removed from the Carmila

If there was someone controlling the thing, Carmila

Carmila


This was some kind of weapon, and they needed to make adjustments for it to work correctly. She, and everyone she knew, would die testing it. Perhaps she should have felt guilty for the humans the finished weapon would be used upon, but they were as much at fault as the Shadow. Gunther

There was no light for her father, no brilliant display. His skin merely shifted, looking like scales but formed from the same texture as the crystals that powered the transformation. From the sudden look of horror on his face, Carmila

Then it was her turn.
At first she considered struggling, but the hatred within her was seething. To strike a guard she would have to fight through it first, and she wanted nothing more than to give into that anger. Perhaps her anger could become an energy capable of turning this machine on its users and the traitors among the humans as well? Then she'd really have something to show them. It was a bitter thought, but it was the last she was going to be allowed.
Already the tendrils of power were on her, forcing their way into her soul. The energy filled her, expanded her, became her. Rather than pain, she felt the joy of all creation. She knew its suffering and plights as though they belonged to her alone. The whole of the world, and all worlds that touched it through the Shadow Gates, became her mind for a moment. Rather than kill her, the conduit had made her... more.
She knew the Man of Shadows would kill her once he knew what she had become. He couldn't have a rival to his throne, and she wasn't interested in taking a side in this pathetic war. There had to be another way, a way to convince these Shadows that she wasn't worth killing... perhaps if she was already dead?
Before she could begin to formulate the plan, her skin already began the change. Just like her father's, only slightly less drastic, her flesh became crystal. Her eyes the purest black of the stones that gave her new life. Joints disconnected painlessly, shifting into a new position on her whim alone. Her form was mutable now, answering only to the function she required of it. An ability which caused her enemies to mistake her for a corpse and remove her somewhere far easier to escape from.
As she sailed the oceans back to Layar in the guise of the now deceased captain, Carmila couldn't help but smile to herself. Human, Shadow, none of that mattered. She would have her revenge upon them all.
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