After weeks, Asha still could not bring herself to enter the Inn. While she missed the friendly faces dearly, a few in particular, she felt no remorse at the chaos she left behind. Some people lived for that sort of thing, the heady rush of adrenaline, the smell of blood and sweat, jarring strikes. She supposed that was why the arena was often so popular. But such things did not appeal to the cleric, who was certain she had already seen enough death for an elven lifetime, not to mention a human's.

The fragment. Barbades still had not answered her prayers, and so the loathsome thing was still in her possession. Even hidden from sight, she could feel the evil pulsing from it. Perhaps that was another reason she had chosen to stay away from the Red Dragon Inn. While creatures of good flocked there, it also seemed a haven for those of dark and evil natures. With the fragment still present in this world and unsecured, she would be a target. It was true that the fragment was a foreign object with a foreign history to the denizens of Rhy'Din, but one could not ignore its evil power, and one would not need to know its history to feel its alure.

She felt safer away from the masses, keeping to her daily and nightly routines at the church or the orphanage across the street. Somehow, she did not expect that she would draw evil to her.

Of course, it was night. Creatures of darkness preferred to hunt and strike in the darkness. Asha staved off the night with a candle and contented herself with reading. She sat curled up on her bed, the scent of cherries and vanilla filling her room as the candle burned. But not even the sweetest perfume could mask the odor of death that came creeping in. Decay, sickening sweet and rotting, filled her nose, and her book slid and fell to the floor. A sense of danger chilled her. Blowing out the candle, she relied on her elven sight in the darkness, and glimpses of red through the shutters revealed a creature lurked outside.

It was here for her and would attack the church if she let it.

She didn't have time for her cloak, and its bulk would only get in the way. The night was cold, but she was certain she soon would not be able to feel it. She belted her bag about her waist and dug through the chest at the foot of her bed. There was no time to properly ready herself for an assault, only to procure a weapon. Perhaps if the sisters of the church knew she was housing armaments for making war, they would not have so easily accepted her. Or would have had an excuse to be rid of her. Throwing pieces of mismatched armor out of the way, she pulled out a flail, a simple, spiked ball chained to a stick that had seen better days. The wood was scratched and scuffed, the metal chipped in places. Holding it carefully to keep it from jangling, she ran out of her room, out of the church, and into the street.

"I know you have come for me," she whispered to the darkness. "Barbades, grant Your humble servant protection against this evil that now hunts her. Grant her strength and shield her from harm. The fragment will be protected from the hands of evil."

She neither glowed nor gleamed, nor did ethereal armor suddenly clink in place, but she felt the divine sparkling in her blood. Barbades would help her protect the fragment. "I am here!" she called to the creature, running first into the street. "If you want it, come and get me!" Her voice trembled a touch. She was admittedly afraid, but innocents could be hurt if she did nothing. Asha did not revel the fight, but she was no stranger to combat. She lured the creature away from others and out into the open.

A demon stalked from the shadows and into the streetlights, a wicked thing to behold with glossy black, armored flesh. It was spiked with long, cruel talons and horns and a barbed tail. Thick, corded muscles flexed aggressively, and sharp fangs filled its evil grin. It had no words for her but needed none. It was a creature that reeked of death and had come for hers. There would be no reasoning.

She had faced demons in the Abyss, but she had been filled to the brink with Barbades' holy wrath. Now, His power mingled incompletely with her own. She didn't know if she was strong enough, and the demon laughed at her fear. Suddenly, it rushed at her, talons biting into her flesh as she parried a killing blow. She cried out in pain, but the elf gritted her teeth as she used its proximity to her advantage. Her free hand struck out toward the creature, and she called, "Tya'ra tel' taurnin!" She bled, but the beast reeled back with a cry of its own. Its flesh cracked beneath her touch, sickly-looking blood hissing against the cold of the night.

"Tampa..." she whispered in a plea, but the demon would not stop at her will. It watched and stalked her from a distance, which gave the cleric time to call upon another malediction. "Barbades, He who watches over us in Murcaste, send this demon back to the Abyss. Use me as Your conduit to strike this evil down. To You I utter this holy word..." As the word fell from her lips, her back arched in a spasm, her head flung back as divine power flooded through her and out. At her invocation, power erupted, and the demon screeched in pain. Its body hissed in the winter air, but it was not yet dead. Panic skittered across its hateful gaze, quickly deciding between the instinct-driven fight or flight.

But wounds had angered the creature, and the fragment still held a dark lure. If it could wrest the fragment from the cleric, it could draw upon the power and surely defeat the elf. She was weak and wounded and soft enough to cut down.

The moment of indecision was its downfall. Hazy-eyed and injured from the holy blast, it didn't see Asha rushing upon the creature. Filled with the strength of her God, she struck true, the blessed instrument caving in the demon's head. With a gurgling shriek, it was all over, and the collapsing body turned to ash as life fled.

Her hands shook, and the flail dropped to the ground. It had only been a matter of minutes, but it felt ages longer. Trembling, she dropped to her knees and took a moment to calm herself. "Forgive me," she said in a breathless whisper. Taking a calming breath, she began the task of assessing her injuries.

At first glance, the property on which Glenn's barn sat seemed...somewhat abandoned. The burnt-out remnants of an old, small farmhouse to the left of the barn, and the rusted farm machinery that sat moldering away in silence suggested that no one had been here in some time. A quick examination of the barn would reveal this to be untrue. On the side of the barn opposite the front door, white smoke puffed out of a exhaust pipe, cleverly placed to vent out of the wall over there. In some places, where the ground had been muddy and then frozen by the chill of winter, fresh booted footprints could be clearly seen, preserved by the cold weather.

Glenn was in the front room, putting the finishing touches on a rocking chair he was making for another customer. He was closely scrutinizing the waterproof stain he had put on the project, making sure it was evenly coated in all places, and touching it up where it wasn't. Even this simple task, though, was killing his hands. He had to stop periodically to rub his wrists. He was certainly looking forward to taking some time off from work. He needed it.

He heard the knock on the door and, assuming it was Erin coming to pick it up the chair, his voice took on a friendly tone, even if the words were still somewhat cautious.

?Who is it??

At the words ?Sir Glenn,? he stiffened in place. This wasn't the person he was expecting to stop by! Behind the thick door, Asha's voice wasn't clear, and he was unable to identify it. He was about to stand up, grab his hammer, and put on his necklace when the voice finished its thought. When Asha identified herself, he relaxed, and turned to face the door.

?Asha? Uh, come in. The door's unlocked.? Glenn stood up and waited for Asha to enter before he continued. He was clad in a particularly messy looking white t-shirt and canvas carpenter's pants, with hammers hanging out of both of the loops on either hip. The shirt appeared stained by several substances: blue paint, dirt, and varnish. He smelled faintly of those materials, while the interior of the barn was dominated by the scent of wood. The smokiness of timber burning in the stove in the other room, the earthiness of the fresh cut timber stacked next to the other projects Glenn was working on, and the ever-present odor of sawdust, faint but unmistakable in the air. It was evident that the barn had been converted for residence, but it was also evident by the lack of walls between ?rooms? and the packed dirt floor that the conversion had not been completed yet.

Glenn adjusted the strands of hair covering the tops of his ears somewhat needlessly. His posture seemed to straighten a bit, and his forest green eyes seemed to gleam a touch brighter for a second. This was short-lived, though, once he actually spoke. ?How are you doing today? Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing you're here to ask me to make something? If so, I'm sorry. This rocking chair?? he tapped at the arm of the chair for emphasis? "is probably going to be the last thing I make for a couple of weeks. I worked too hard over the holidays and I hurt my hands. I think I'll be alright if I rest them for a couple of weeks, but I won't be able to make anything until then. I'm sorry if you came all the way out here for that.? He slumped his shoulders a bit, and frowned slightly at that. He hated to turn away potential paying customers, but it was getting to the point where even scribbling on a piece of paper sent flares of pain shooting up his wrists. Glenn stood there, still rubbing his hands, waiting for her reply.

At first, Glenn stood in place, listening as Asha recalled her story. His eyes seemed to widen a touch as she told him of her profession (A priest? he thought to himself briefly), but for the most part, Glenn managed to play the part of the dutiful listener. His facial expression was plain, and though his hands fidgeted at his side, it was clear by the way he was standing and the way he kept his eyes on her that he was paying close attention.

Then, Asha unveiled the small scrap of wood and showed it to Glenn. He'd had a vague sense of unease creeping through him since Asha had stepped through the door, but at the sight of the fragment of evil, it quickly shifted to nausea. He slouched a bit, feeling sick, until she returned the fragment to the bag. Part of him was relieved that the object was removed from his sight. But there was another part of him that wasn't.

At first, Glenn thought the sound was just the rustling of wind outside, kicking up leaves that had fallen off nearby trees months ago. It started out barely audible. Asha's voice and the crackling of the stove's fire in the room behind him nearly drowned it out. The volume soon increased, though, and the pitch shifted, until he swore he could hear and feel his own blood roaring in his ears. Then, the sound died down all at once, only to be replaced by a different one. One that sounded awfully familiar.

?Take it from her,? the voice whispered inside Glenn's head. It seemed strangely familiar to him, and for a moment, it seemed that the things it spoke of were his own thoughts, only harsher and deeper in tone. It lingered on each word it said to him, almost as if hoping that speaking slower would make it more persuasive to the carpenter. ?Go on, she can't stop you. Look at her, the bandages on her neck. She's obviously wounded.? Glenn's eyes shifted to a sharper green as they slowly traced their way, neck to foot, down Asha's body. He only seemed to be dimly listening to her, until she mentioned healing. At that, his gaze snapped back up to look at her face.

?She can't heal you. She can't even heal herself!? The voice rasped, and an edge of desperation made it speak faster than before. ?If you take it, I can heal you. I can heal everything. Your hands, those scars on your fingers. Your ears. Take it, and if she resists, kill her.? At that, Glenn's eyes suddenly snapped shut. His lips were moving rapidly, but no sound escaped them. His right hand started shaking, as it seemed to be reaching for the hammer attached to one of the loops on his hip. Then, he balled one hand into a fist, then the other. He slowly, emphatically shook his head ?no?, the gesture tossing locks of light brown hair to and fro upon his forehead. His eyes reopened, and he looked up at the ceiling and down at the packed-dirt floor, before his gaze finally returned to Asha. His voice, when it finally responded, was weak, but carried a sense of desperation far beyond what the situation called for.

?Y-y-you can heal me?? Glenn blinked slowly, like he was just waking up. He almost immediately realized what he had said, and turned away to hide the crimson flush spreading across his cheeks. He quickly returned to his more professional tone, and spoke louder. ?Uh, I mean, yeah. If you can heal my hands, I'll make the box for you. What do you need me to do?? He held his hands out, calloused palms and fingertips up, waiting for her to examine them.

Glenn winced and hissed softly under his breath as Asha pinched and prodded his hand. He felt the fragment, feebly calling to him in the back of his head, but he ignored it, his own thoughts racing in to dash away the evil. Will this work? What will it feel like? How does it work? He also focused on the scent of blood and wood, mixed with something...pungeant. Unpleasant. He kept his eyes shut and his brain busy, and resisted the lure of the hidden splinter.

As soon as Asha began to channel the divine energy into his hands, Glenn's eyes popped open. He watched the light engulf his wrists, and couldn't help but sigh a bit at the warmth and the effervescence of the healing energy surrounding his skin. He had been aware of the existence of magical healing, had prayed for it often, but hadn't really bothered to seek out healers with that specific talent. The few times he'd been sick or injured in Rhydin, he had utilized more conventional methods of medicine: herbs, poultices, bandages. Glenn wasn't sure if he hadn't found any because there weren't too many in Rhydin, or if he just hadn't bothered to look. Who would want to heal me anyways? It's probably too expensive. I'm not worth the effort. Yet somehow, a healer had stumbled upon him, and was curing him at this very moment. And all it would cost him was making a box. He could do that in his sleep. An answer to my prayers? Glenn thought to himself.

Then, he suddenly gasped, and snapped his eyes shut, as the holiness, the rightness of what was happening sunk in. It was only a small taste of the divine, but for him, it was the closest he had ever been to being touched by a god or gods. It felt like the gods (Or was it one god? I think she called him Barbades...) had opened his mind to a new way of seeing. Visions seemed to drift across Glenn's eyelids: the times he had lifted his head to Sol while sitting in church, or during the holidays. Other times, when he'd hide in his room, or sneak off to the forest, or find some other abandoned spot, and send his prayers to the Earth Goddess as well, not entirely sure why he had to hide that. Finally, he remembered the closest he had ever felt to the gods. That one afternoon, deep in the forests of Blackbridge, sitting on a cold, smooth rock jutting out over a bubbling, frothing pool of water, the nearby waterfall misting on his face just so. It had felt like the Earth Herself was talking to him then, and yet, in the face of this healing, Glenn realized something. All those prayers, those ceremonies, those epiphanies he thought he had experienced? They were just crumbs, not even enough to get a good taste of what the gods were really like, or what they could do. This was something.

When she pulled away, Glenn had to resist the urge to cling to Asha, even though the holy power had long since left her grasp. His eyes fluttered open, and whatever energy it was that had flowed from her to him was vibrantly shining and swirling in what were now jade-green eyes. He staggered back from her, still wide-eyed, mouth agape. He only seemed dimly aware of how tired she was and how much older she seemed. For a long time, he said nothing, though his mind was screaming up a storm. It worked? It actually worked? Check on it? He glanced down at his hands for a second, wriggling each of his fingers one by one, before bending his wrists back and forth. It worked! No pain! It feels better than ever! Even when he finally spoke again, some of that excitement and hope he had trickled into his normally placid tone of voice. It very nearly trembled as he spoke. ?S-so what exactly do you need me to do??

Glenn beckoned Asha out of the front room and into his workshop. Save for the two doors, one to the front room and one to the series of ?rooms? on the left half of the barn, it was walled off. Apparently the construction on this part of the barn had already been completed. Inside the workshop, the odor of sawdust was inescapable, and the floor was covered with the thin light brown shavings. Two large windows were set into the exterior walls of the barn, letting light inside, straight ahead of the entrance from the front room and on the right. Near the right side window was Glenn's work bench, littered with various tools, sheets of plain and graphing paper, wood blocks and scraps, and countless pencils. Glenn cleared off the top, placing the tools on the hangers that surrounded the room and tossing the rest of the items there on a lower platform on the bench. He left a pencil and a clean sheet of graph paper. With a wave of his hand, he gestured for Asha to sit on a nearby wooden stool while he stood and drew some designs: a rough dimensional diagram of the box, and then a copy of the symbol she wore about her neck. ?If you want, I can trace that to make sure it's perfect,? Glenn said somewhat offhandedly while sketching. Once finished, he showed her the drawings, before he moved on to the next step.

Glenn pulled tools of all sorts off of their respective hooks and set them on his workbench for Asha to peruse: jack and smoothing planes; marking and cutting gauges; a manual miter, dovetail, tenon, and coping saws; several chisels with various sized blades; rulers; several sheets of sandpaper with different grains and a hand-sized wood block; a bevel; a small carving knife; a jar of adhesive; and the pencil he wrote with earlier. He stepped out of the room for a moment, returning with several logs of freshly cut lumber. ?I think these are the tools I'll need to make your box. Is there anything else you need me to do??

Glenn placed a sheet of graphing paper over the holy symbol, and quickly but accurately sketched a representation of the golden path through the hills. Seeing the way Asha watched him (or the symbol he was currently holding, rather), he finished up his drawing fast and handed it back to her.

As Asha enchanted the tools of his trade, one by one, Glenn watched with wide-eyed amazement. His body and spirit, already touched once earlier by the divine, dimly felt the rush of energy into his equipment. It pulled him towards them, and away from the sinister whispers of the splinter, now just a dull, ignorable roar in the back of his head. He had to resist the urge to lay hands on his tools before she had completed the spell. When Asha's eyes shifted onto him, Glenn adjusted his body so that he was facing her. He felt a peculiar strength touch his muscles as the light surrounded his frame. It wasn't until Asha had completed the incantation, and the brightness had faded somewhat from his skin and clothing, that his face and eyes became visible again. He couldn't see it, but anyone who had been familiar with either of Glenn's faces would've been surprised at the sight. His eyes were jade green, like they were when he was passing as a human, yet he still maintained his fine, slighty feminine elvish facial features. Again, the sensation coursing through his bloodstream was utterly alien and yet somehow felt right, and he found himself staggered, stumbling backwards towards his workbench. His hands just barely managed to find the wooden surface to support him in a lean, as he watched Asha find her way to his stool. After a few moments of blinking, Glenn had composed himself enough to think clearly. The next words out of his mouth were barely a whisper.

?Do you want me to get started now?? He started to look over his drawings, tools, and materials, then glanced back at her. Even Glenn, who wasn't always fully observant, could tell that she looked run-down (Probably from whatever she just did to you and your stuff, Glenn thought). He spoke slowly and hesitantly to her. ?Did-did you want to rest here for a little while? I don't really have a couch or nice chairs or anything like that, but there's some dining room chairs over there-? Glenn jerked his head to the left, indicating the other half of the barn- ?or you could take a nap? It's going to be a while before the next carriage comes out here, and you look really tired. I can start your box and you can rest and when the mail carriage comes a little later I can wake you and you can catch a ride back to the city with him??

After five days of tireless work, Glenn finally finished the box in the early morning hours of January 16. It was the hardest he had worked on a project in a long time, yet it wasn't until he had finally finished the box that the fatigue of long hours of work and little sleep had kicked in. All that sawing, planing, gluing, sanding, and carving was exhausting work at the breakneck pace he'd been working, not to mention the fact he had to keep on top of other projects as best he could. Glenn knew he probably lost a lot of money, turning aside as much work as he had over those five days. But it was worth it to him.

Without nails, screws, or hinges to hold the box together, Glenn was dependent on dovetail joints, adhesive, and some special design to make sure the box stayed together. The lid was just barely larger than the bottom of the box, and designed to fit snugly together without the usual metal accoutrements. It wasn't a perfect solution to keeping the box shut, but as long as it wasn't flipped upside down, the lid would stay on, while not being impossible to remove (though Glenn seriously doubted that the lid would be taken off any time soon). On top of the lid was a perfect carving of Barbades' symbol, etched deep into the sanded wood: rolling hills, with a path that traversed them. By no means was it a masterpiece, but he had followed Asha's instructions to the letter, and the box was made of strong enough lumber that he was confident it would hold up for many years to come.

After wrapping the box up carefully in cloth so it would not scuff or otherwise get damaged, Glenn emptied out his knapsack and put the container inside. Once he'd eaten a quick breakfast of porridge and buttered brown bread, he put on his necklace, then his cloak, scarf, cap, and gloves. He stopped briefly at the Southern Glen for his morning prayers, then continued northward to the south gate of the city. From there, it was a short walk to the Rhydin Orphanage, and the church where Asha was staying.

Glenn knocked at the wooden door first, but when no one seemed to answer, he tested the doorknob and found the entrance unlocked. He stepped inside, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light that the sconces threw off. The interior seemed empty, but that was probably to be expected, this early in the morning on a Wednesday. Still, there was something eerie as well as holy about the stark silence and the rows of pews that were now going unused. He was hesitant to break the sanctity of this place with his voice, but he had a job to do. Even so, there was a tentative quaver in his tone as he called out.

?I'm looking for Asha...I've got something I need to give her. Can you tell me where she is??

The soles of Glenn's old brown leather work boots had barely any tread left on them, so when he moved further inside the church to greet the nun who came out, he nearly slipped and fell on the slick stone floors. He started to windmill, but quickly caught his balance, though his near fall caused him to blush bright red briefly. He nodded to the woman, thanking her and smiling softly, before he watched her walk into the back where she had been previously. While he was waiting for Asha to arrive, he set his knapsack down on one of the pews and opened it, though he didn't take the box out yet. It wasn't very heavy, but the shape of the box had caused it to poke into his back and shoulder blades during the entire walk into town, which was annoying, to say the least. Glenn also figured that Asha would probably want to take it for herself, and there was nothing else of value in the bag anyways. Besides, the cleric didn't strike him as the kind who would steal from him even if he had something else worth taking inside.

Glenn didn't say anything at the sight of Asha's longer hair. Yes, it was a bit odd to the carpenter that her hair had grown so much in such a small span of time, but he was nothing if not polite. Of course, he was unable to hide the way his eyes widened and his brows raised when he first saw her, but he quickly recovered and was all business. He didn't bother to remove his cloak and other winter things, seeing Asha's simple manner of dress (not that what Glenn had on underneath his cloak was anything special either). Plus, he didn't expect to stay very long. He had things to do later that day, and he assumed that she would as well.

?How're you doing, Asha?? Glenn asked, as he adjusted his knitted cap on his head. Knowing how important this box was to her, and not being skilled at the art of small talk, he quickly cut the chit-chat. ?The box's right here, in this bag.? Glenn gestured to his knapsack, bulging with its contents. ?Everything should be all set. The way you wanted it. You can take it out and look at it, if you like.? He stepped back a little bit, giving her a clear path to the pew where he had set his bag down. His face radiated confidence; woodworking was one of the few things he was certain of his skills in.