The zoisite scrambled away with all the speed of a frightened, worthless bug. A wounded deer. More and more fragments of mirrors seemed to circumscribe the Reaver, driving her ever deeper into madness. It was good, good that she had reduced the zoisite to its basics -- good for her. But what about it? Escaping now, living on now, would it remain cracked and scarred by this experience forever? In the moment of wild fury, had Khavur made an impression that destroyed all that plated armor of promise, left them naked as a writhing worm?

NO. Khavur would not allow it. Khavur would never allow such weakness, especially where capability lay dormant. She would return and build the zoisite up -- yes! She would purge its weaknesses now, and later return, to create! And in time, there, and only there would be Vargas' rotten holy grail -- perfection.

For now it had to reduce the labradorite. Either draw out that rage and use it or exhaust it entirely.

SLAM! The wall was reached regardless. Now Khavur was focused on one target, perhaps foolishly certain of the other's insignificance. One last thought before she continued her effort here. With her large-horned head, Khavur would lean closer the labradorite's face and offer a scathing whisper, a private response to the its pitiful argument from earlier: "If that were true -- if you were strong -- then you wouldn't be here." Pressed up against a wall by its own, somewhat smaller kin. Pent up in Draco like a lion in a cage. Forever bound to Vargas' circus of monsters, to a purpose, to a life. If freedom came from strength, then they all really were made of worms.

"Khavur!" WHAT-- "Khavur, calm! Please don't harm our littermates, please try to quell your rage!" What-- "Violence isn't the way, sister!" ..."KHAVUR!!"

Right there. Maximus V-Chaos-Two was right there.

Frozen up solid. It might have been a shocking display. Only one creature in the caves could turn fire into ice in mere moments. Frozen, and yet still burning... Khavur had to make a choice.

Its head was still-- Her-- it... Head was still ablaze. Thoughts passing, one after a million others, caterwauling, bombardment. Less than a second where time felt absent and Khavur --

i̵̧̠̜̺̹̥͉̪͙̺̅͜ͅh̵̨̨̛͓͈̯̖͔́͒͐̔́͂̈́̑͝͠ą̷̡̛͉̘͔̖͓̃͆̎͐̑̈́͒̓̋͋̄͑̔̓ţ̶͇̩̲͐́̍̀ę̶̥͈̹͔̺̭̪̺̍͊ÿ̵̝̣̜́͌̀̉̄̽͂̈͊̈́̊͠o̴̞̲͖͔̰͓͚̜̔̓̽͋́̌͋̀͒̅̕͜u̵͔̱̜̲̒̔̓́͆͋̈́͌̊̀̍͝ͅì̷͔͖̙̊͋̈́̚c̴̲͙̗̯͖͓̫̗͎͚̿̓̽͆͂̀̈̐o̶̢̳͆͑̅͌̈́ü̵̡̧̖͕̩̞̼͗́l̴̳͔̗̼̓̔͆͌̇̈́͊̌̊͝d̶̛͓͓͖̰̬̏̋͆̓̾̄̊͌̍͜n̸̩̼͉̱͊̂̐̏̒̿̄͆̃̆̏ë̶̮́̏͛v̷̡̡͇͈͍̘̰͍̯̇̃̈́͑̏̈e̴̛̗̘̤͛̽̓̉͗͊̆̋̅̄̈́̋̐r̵̢̛̛̛̫͚̪̬̠͎̬̭̾̀̔̔̀̈́̎͊͐̓b̴̩̫̥̮̠͙̫̟͖̤̭̥̣̺͚̓͂̾̓̇̿̔̽̓̅̆͑̿e̷͖̫̩͈̩̍̓̀͠ḿ̶̬͇̱̯̣͔͍̰͇͉a̶̭̟͔̫͇̟͗̽̂̊̓͌͌̇̓̌̕ͅͅD̵̢͚̥̮̪͖͕̯̳͈̞̾̋͜͝ͅA̴͖̟̘̩̫̥̬̐̈͊̀̒́̔̀̆͗͠͝Ṯ̴̩̾̿Y̶̡̨̙̲̼͕̫̜̺̓̇͂̏͘Ò̶̘͙̤̯͇̲͇̱̥̞̇̀̚ͅU̷̡͉̝͍͇̻̖̭̫̳͑͗̀̾͑̓̈́͋́̕͜Y̷̪͎̜̱̱̾͊̓̀͋̒̋̓̿̔̾̀̐̏͠ͅO̵̥̯͉̙͕̞͔̣̮̘̩̿͌͛̋̍̓̌͜Ȗ̵̥̠͕̟͔͛̋̌͝͝Ṣ̸̹͇͖͓̮̞̈́͋̇̊Ţ̶̻̦̳̜͇̣͍̞̲̱͙̤̪̤́́̄̔̏̈́̓́̓͠O̵̧̮̤̭̞̖̪͑͛̕P̷͓̯͚͖̳̘̖͉̥̘͔̉̋̈̈́̚P̷̛̟̍͐̿̇̅̀͗͋Ĕ̷͇̯̹̘̹͗́̕D̴͖̳͉̟̩͍́́͌M̸̦͓͑̓̌̓̀ͅE̴̛̜͙̱͓̗̗̙̞̭͂̇̓̑̆͗͐͘̕͝͠Y̷̧͈̯̟̓̇̈́ͅO̶̭̤͕̺͖̬̦̊̀͗U̵̧͈̖̦̥̲̱͇̬̹͚̫͓͙̱͗̅͌̿̆̕̕͝͝Ş̸̧̝̩̙̗̉͗̀̎̈́̀̕͝͠T̵͓̱̤̓̍̈͋̍̉͑̃͝ͅǪ̷̨̢͎̮͖̮̠̥͙̞̦͂̏̂̾͆̎̆P̴̡̱̣̩͊̔̈́̉͑̌̈́͗͛̿͝͝M̶͉̩̮̯͔̞̮̒̿͊͛̿̑̓̎̍̇̈́̀̈͌̕͜E̴̩̙̭̗̜͕͈͚̫̭͂̀̉̇̀̿͠Ỳ̴̪̫̩͋͐̅͝Ǫ̶̛͍͕̈́̓͒̀͆͝Ư̶̭̒͑̾̃̈́́͌̀̈́̓̚͠͠͠Ç̸̳̟̖̮̊͛̄͂̀̉͂͛̑̉̔̀̚͠͠Â̷̯̆̿̂̿̅̾͂͌̆̕N̶̙͇͗̔̐́̿̉͛͗̄̑̅͂͋̈́N̸̥̫̼̣̩̖̲͈̅̔̊͛͂̓͌͑̚͝͝O̶̡͈̯̬̤̻̭̥̥̜̬̓͐̂̅͑̆́̑͗̊̕Ţ̶̦͎͔̹̲̘͉̖͎͚̣̟͚̔̈́̾̃̓̒͂͌͂̓̚͝͝S̶̼̩͔͕̦͉̰̈́̒͋̔͑͐͂̏̀̈́̚T̶̻͚͖͉̯͈̂̇̿́͆́́͂͑̆̏̽̃̌͘O̶̡̢̠̞̬͍̘̤̻͔̭̯̙̼̓̈́̄̾̑́̀̽͝P̶̡̙͎̦͙̼̩͙̳̰͚̂́M̵̢͌̉̒̑̿͋Ȩ̵̢͖͎̲̞́͐̑̀͗̾͋̄̓́͂͌̏͜Y̵̛̤̺̬̗̫̺͖̺̱͐͊̆̂͊͗̎̍̏͗̈́̀͘͝Ơ̶̥̘̭̻̦̗͙̩͚̾̾̃͋̿̓͆̉̾̍U̵̘̺͕͚̟̞̬̪̰̝̤͎̦̐͊̑̀͘ͅA̴̡̨̹̩̗͉͎͚̟̘͖̯̪̲̤͋̒͋͐̿̓͆̓͒́͝R̶̘̹̲̯̞̥̗͓̦̉͑̔̅͋̌̓̾͗E̵̩̟̍̆͂̏͋̾̂͊̀̏͊H̸̢̢̧̛̤͔̮̼̲̺̪͚͈͔̦̪͊̔͝Ơ̴̧̻̞̪̥͍̪͚̹͔͚͔ͅĽ̶̨̂͝Ḑ̴̢̨̫̯̳̤̤̼̥̹̼́̎̓̋ͅI̸̪̲̟̙͛̓͠Ǹ̴̡̪̳̫͒̋̀̾̄̈̀͘͝ͅG̸̩̫͎͇̥̦̯̘͖̦͜͜͠M̵̪͓̭̊͋̀͐͆̑̀̽̉͑́͊̍͠Ȩ̵̛̘̫̯̯̳̰̤̲̾̍̏̅ͅB̴̧̳̟̟̙̤͇͙͈̫͙̦̈́̎̈́̽̀̑͒̔͆̉͠͠A̴̧͍̖͆̽̽͑̈́̈̈́̾C̷̢̹̬͓̞̳͙̗̘̖̬͍͆̓͘K̸̳̖̹̫̘̘̂̈́̒̿̓̉̔͝͝S̸̤̰̹̘̞̩̼͍̺͕͈͈͕̥͗̋̊Ą̵̢͈̣̱̠̥̹͔̲̥̞̯̲͈̇̋̎̓͛V̷̠̲̬̠̥̥̻̺̫̣̯̙̘̱̿̈̅̾̌̈́͜͝͠I̷̢̝̟̮̯͎̯̫̲̰̓́N̶̛͕̰̱̰̣̩̠̱͒͑̒̒̈́̿̊͒̒͌G̸̡̢̫̹̞̼̩͎̟͎̪͙̽̑͐͊̉͋̾͑̚͜ͅḾ̷̮̝̻̼̻̣̰͓̙͖͇̥̳̮͗̐̽̓̉̅̅̂̃̕͜E̴̮̘̤̥̖̹̲͎̘̹̭͗̀̉Y̷̛͍̱̜͚̿͂̀̓̑̀͝͠Ó̷̡̢̤͙̦̙̞̠̳͈͇͇̯͜ͅÜ̴̳̠̻̫̞̟͂̂̊͑̈͜͠A̴̢̨͙͖̟͕̅͝R̸̛̺̦̻̤̟̗̩̱͉͈̻̓͌͛̽̇͂͋̈́̀̌̅͠͝ͅE̷̢͎̥̗̦͓͙̼̳̲̊̓̍̍̄̉͗̽̑ͅM̷̧̗̝̠͙̯͖̣͊̒̑̕͠Ÿ̵̗́̓̋̈̾̎̏̉͗̀̓̚O̶̡̠̲̱̗̹̒̏̀̀̒͛̿͑͠͝͝P̸͕͔̥̳̳͌̆́́̀̑̍̍P̷̙̥̲̹̙̿̿̕O̴̧̨̲̱͈͎̰͍̞̘̟͑̈̾͛̊̒̇̆̈͌̚̚̕͜͝Ş̴̜̬͙̲̦̪̹̾̓̓̆͐̔̚I̵̜̟̊͐̓̌́̏͒͒̈͆̑͝T̶͕̲̿͗̔̕͝͝Ẹ̸̢͚̫̹͙͔̒̓͂̄͗̉̄̃͐̽̅͌̀̈́́Ỳ̸̡̛̝̰̯̣̗̩̥̫͛͊̂̏̀̆̈́̄͂̈́̈́͝ͅO̸̩̞̥͉̪̦̣̥͊̐̽̌̎̈́̈́̎̒͊͝͝͠͝Ṵ̶͖̗̖̖̭̱̙̣̊̇̅͐A̴̰̝̒̔͑͊̀̃̚͘͠R̷̛̤͂̏͛̔͂́̿̽̽͘͝Ȩ̷͈̙̱̎́͂͊͗͝M̸̨̡̙̺̟̫̲̠̣̻̲̝̗͌͌̂͊̎̕͠͠ͅY̴̡̼̪͓̎̈̈́Ȅ̵̡̝̦̪͙̳̪̞̼̬̤̉͜͜Q̵̥̳̹̼̱̭̹͍̀̍͌́̚͠Ù̶̢͈̳͔̮̘̣͕͓̩̖͈͇̂͂͌̊̒͂͌͌̒̀A̴͖͉͚̓́̓͜L̷͓͓͔͕̯̜̹̘͝M̴̡̮̻͕͐̒̈̋̐́̚Ŷ̸̹̙͕͙̜̱̤͍̩̲̲̦͓́̏̇̓̐̄́̆̚͠L̷̼̙̥̰̠̼̞̣̙̥͚̺̮̎͋̉̇̀́͑̑͜E̶͉̩̪̦̯̬̰͕̰̬̯̺̙̻̿̋͗́̽͘S̴̭͉̠͍̊́̏͛̇͑̉̈́͝Ŝ̸͎̠͉͓́̈́͐̅̌̊̔̉̽̔̕͝͠͝E̷̡̨̢̥̹͔̺͍͚̺̻͍̝͎̒͌̐ͅR̵̜̘̱͉͚͎̆̀̀̂͗̋́̄͛̐̓M̴̡̧̭̮̞̟̫̥̹̱͔̒̒̆̅̀̏̈͛̍̋̋̚͝͠͠ͅY̸̛͔̮͓̹͔̽̂̃͊͒̄̒B̶̨̪̞̙͔̹͙̎̽̕R̵̹͈̪̗͙̯͔̞̄͛̌̋͋͝O̴̧̰͖̱̝̳̎͗T̸̛̗̭̳̻̂̿̿̍̑̂͋̔̚̕̕Ḧ̶̢̛̤̺̳̘́̾͌̇̃̇͠͠͠Ę̴̤̗̻̘̫̟̹̠̙̱̯̍̕R̸̨̩̘͖̭̝̫͖̳͙̜͙̳͍̰̔̋̅̀͋̐B̵̨͍͓̼̙̬͓͈͒̃͆͗̿͒̀͊́̃̕͘̚͝ͅÈ̴͍͖̘̼͉͎͓͖̯̈̈́̽̈̚͠͝͝͝L̸̡͉̬̰̗͈̲̣̓̾̈́͂̑̓͑̐͋̋̈́̕̚͝O̷̢̺̺̹͇̺͖͎̻͖̺̹̝̰͎͛́̎V̵̢̝͙̈́ͅE̶̢̛͚̭̬͙̻̯̿͑̌̉̈̎͛͊̓͘D̴̡̜̞͇͈̼̫̣̓͛̉̄͜͠͠͝Y̶̗̺̹̤̞̽̿̔̊̋͆̀̄͆̚͜ͅO̵̡͕̟̗͈̼͔͚̖̮͇̼̞͈̗͗́͊͆̍̋̚͝Ű̸̢̡̨̬̤̱͖̝̹̝̈́̏́̂̾̀́̿͛͌͜͝

-- couldn't stand any of it, when the burden of life became to cumbersome it felt impossible to breathe--

Khavur attempted to continue pressing its bodyweight against the labradorite, to continue the trap or the lesson or whatever it had become. But the attempt was dulled, significantly less powerful than every other move Khavur had made before. The fire was still burning but the room itself was cooling... slowing...

The zoisite made an impressively clever move whilst the labradorite remained pinned to a wall. Surprisingly, the Reaver would have to shift her attention now. Khavur could feel the pressure as her back legs, but the sharp pinch and hold of the vice grip was dulled by Khavur's lesser senses. A blessing now in exchange for a curse later. Thick, rough hide had most likely been pierced back there, even if Khavur couldn't entirely feel it now. Would the zoisite really have enough strength to restrain her movement? Or, a more pertinent question, to ride the bucking bronco she was about to become?

Her initial instinct had been incorrect. She would have to analyze the situation later-- how much later? When Chaos-Two was asleep? How could she keep acting like this when they were right there -- she had to get the zoisite off of her first. The labradorite, too, had been reduced. Not to its- their- basics, it seemed, but from bite to bark. How pitiful, to only have words and commands. Even Vargas, lousy as he was, had more than that.

But Khavur would not point this out. Not now. Not while Chaos-Two was watching.

For a moment, it might have seemed as though Khavur was listening to the labradorite and Chaos-Two. She attempted to relent in her effort to pin the labradorite, and she made no other remark on anyone's ability. This mentality, were it possessed or thought by any witness, would swiftly be squashed. Khavur would attempt to put her weight into her front and buck her back legs, kicking them up and slamming them down with as much force as she could muster.