*Annabel, do you even know where you're going?* Kipfel demands from his perch around her neck.

"I'm going to find the Fourth Gate," Annabel replies mechanically. He'd asked that same question about five times in the passed half hour.

*Do you even know where that is?*

"No."

*Then how do you know you're going the right way?*

"I don't."

*Aha. And you keep walking... why?*

"Because I will find it, and I really wish we could stop having this conversation!"

Silence. Annabel lets go of her anger and just relaxes. Kipfel hangs heavilly on her shoulders. He is not frightened nor balked by her outburst. He is simply biding his time.

They turn more corners of the labyrinthe, and Annabel wonders how many corners they had passed since Charleton and Corliss and Lucifer stopped following them. Or at least Charleton and Corliss did; she had seen what looked to be the youngest of the trio often, and found food for both herself and Kipfel lain out for her by the time she woke up. Somehow, she thought perhaps these were the doings of Lucifer. He always seemed the least judgemental of the three.

*Where are we going?*

"Do you just pretend to have a short memory, or is it a true curse on you?"

*Or is what a true curse on me?* Kipfel asks, snickering in reply.

That answers that. "Right, then. Anyways, you know where we're going, and if you ask one more time, I'll leave you here."

That shut Kipfel up so fast that his constant touch on her mind withdrew, coupled with a physical recoil. *You ... you wouldn't!* he protests after a moment, his projected voice seeping with sorrow.

"You're right. I wouldn't. But can you please stop being so ridiculous? I get the general idea that you're bored but tha-"

*SHH! Annabel!* Kipfel hisses, quite literally.

Annabel stops in her tracks. "What?"

*Don't you smell it?*

"Smell what?"

*Sniff, silly woman! Sniff the air!*

Annabel takes in a deep whiff of the air, and she does sense something on the air. A sickeningly sweet stench, errupting from further down the corridor causes her to recoil. She coughs. "What is that?" she asks.

Kipfel says one word, and every bright and happy thought that can possibly be held in a being at a time seems to flood together to form it. *Death...* he breathes, his eyes seeming to glint with happiness over it.

"Right..." Annabel remarks, blinking. "Really, what is it?"

*It's the smell of death's work. I'm not joking.*

Annabel blinks. "Come now! We haven't met a single creature we've had to kill yet! How can you know the smell of death's work?"

*You know I'm older than you. I've been surrounded by decay and black thoughts for as long as I can remember. I know. Don't doubt me. You do not want to go down that hall.*

Annabel considers this. "You're probably right."

*Probably!?*

"But I have to. I think that's the way to the Fourth Gate."

*You don't even know what the thing looks like.*

"No, I don't."

*Then HOW do you know which way it is?*

"Well, I'm guessing."

*WHAT!?*

"I'm guessing this is the way we have to go, because nothing good has happened during the time I've opened a Gate yet, so death's stench, being a harbinger of bad tidings, probably marks the Fourth Gate in some way."

*That... is twisted logic.*

"Your point?"

*Nothing. Just... nothing. Let's go. I'm boring even more than I had been before.*

"You got it!"

And so, Annabel and Kipfel begin their not-so-rigorous trek down the corridor to the source of the stench. Annabel, much to her immense displeasure, trips over the source. In the darkness, she can not see its form, but she somehow gets a fairly good impression that it is the body of either Franq or Däv. Corliss had said they were between the Third and Fourth Gates.

She bends down and touches one of the limbs of the form. She jumps as her fingertips press through the decaying tissue. Tears well in her eyes, and she runs her hand over his chest. There, she brushes against something even colder than her pupil's body: the steel that took his life.

She sobs lightly, wrenching the steely blade from the chest of her student's corpse. She turns it in the darkness, and it glints, catching on some invisible light. She lets out a long keen before driving it into the ground.

"Carmelotto!" she screams. "I'll kill you! I SWEAR IT!"

Meanwhile, a light, chirping laugh echoes through the back of her mind. Kipfel is shaking rhythmically to the noise, evidentally finding the whole situation amusing. Why? Why did he have to be so cruel like this?

Wiping tears from her face with the back of her hand, Annabel closes her eyes. "What is so funny, Kipfel."

*You. Him. This whole thing. Isn't it ironic that the man you used to love is out to make your life a living Hell? Don't you think it's funny that your father, the man who raised you, wants to kill you?*

"He wants to kill you, too, don't forget."

*And I say 'let him try,'* the little black replies, sadistic glee seeping into his voice. *Are you done whining or whatever so we can get going?*

Annabel's nerves stretch tight. "We sit by the corpse of my student, and you want to get going already?"

*Yes. It's not nearly so funny when you aren't wailing and having a fit of things.* Despite that, Kipfel's voice is still quite full of mirth.

Annabel rises soundlessly and wrenches the knife from the ground. She walks over to the wall, and she begins to carve in the darkness. She viciously assaults the labyrinth's walls with all the hatred and animosity she feels pulsing through her veins until it finally runs out, and she contines carving, for it is the thing to do.

*What did you write?* Kipfel asks, curious.

"'In Memoriam. Franqiel and Elrondäv Etherns. Post Colonization 1076.' Anything to add?"

*How about 'We'll kill the jerk who did this to you, so don't you fret none, y'hear?'* Kipfel asks, a smirk evident, even in his voice.

Annabel rolls her eyes, but the effect is lost in the darkness. "I'm serious."

*So am I. By this Hendish Maze and the Gates that keep us here, I really think constructing a memorial to the dead is utterly pointless and a total waste of time.*

"Oh really? Did you ever think how much it helps the grieving process?"

*Oh, yeah. That makes it even more pointless. For every living thing that dies, you're going to put up a memorial. And this one is just in case some other moron decides to frolic along through this very passageway with a light to see it. What about when you kill their killer? And your father? Are you going to mourn them?*

"They're not worthy of mourning."

*But they're alive.*

"That's a matter of opinion," Annabel replies coldly before begining her assault on the wall again.

*Hey, can you even kill your father? I mean, he is World's son, or so the legend goes, you say. Doesn't that make him kind of - I don't know - immortal?*

Annabel simply carves harder. "I. Don't. Care."

*Right. You'll try anyway. I forgot. You're the one with the Styroplex will and the guts to match. Heh.*

Annabel continues carving, and again Kipfel lets her go in silence. Despite his mocking words, he knows that the construction of the memorial is part of the healing process. The same is not true for her feelings for Mel and Hend. They were dead to her the day their betrayal was unmasked. Their deaths will be their memorials.

Nevertheless, Kipfel finds antagonizing Annabel on this subject amusing. He likes to argue with her, especially when he has a point. He waits with mild amusement as Annabel finishes.

*So?* he asks as Annabel drives the knife as far into the wall as she can.

"'So' what?"

*So what does it say? What did you add?* he queries with detatched interest.

"What do you care?"

*I'm just curious. By the Gates, woman, you're closed up tighter'n I am!*

"I am not."

*Then what did you add?*

Annabel pushes her weight against the knife's pommel, driving it in further. "'You'll live in my heart always.'"

*Oh! How touching!* Kipfel exclaims sarcastically.

"That's what I thought you'd say. That's why I didn't want to tell you." Her voice, Kipfel notices, is dry and devoid of her usual spite and malice.

*We ought to get going. Come on. We still have - what? - like five more Gates to do. Let's just get this over with and kill Mel and Hend, and let everything take its winding course to catch up.*

Annabel nods, pushing one final time against the knife. She bends down and kisses her fallen student's forehead, extracting cries of disgust and revolsion from Kipfel. Then, she rises, her eyes watering with tears, and continues down the twisting, churning corridors of the labyrinth.

Annabel and Kipfel had traveled along the corridor a long time before they came to a set of forks in the maze. It was there that they decided to sleep. Annabel was stupid for being so comfortable with sleeping unguarded, but she was tired, and so was Kipfel. Waking brings surprises.

The sound of Kipfel hissing and growling allows Annabel to gradually stir out of her dreamless slumber. His voice in her head, however, jerks her awake quite easily. *Annabel! Wake up!* he instructs.

Annabel opens her eyes to see a dim figure she assumes to be Mel - judging solely by his clunky silhouette and the knowledge of his cybernetic implants - hovering over her and Kipfel by her side, hissing and growling menacingly.

"What a charming dragon you have, Annabel," the figure observes.

Yep. It's Mel alright. "What do you want, Mel?" Annabel asks, dragging herself to her feet.

A swift kick to the head is what she receives, and she finds herself grounded effectively. Annabel groans and grabs her head to stop the ringing in her ears. Luckilly she hadn't smacked her head against the nearby wall.

"I want to finish what I started. You're going to die, Annabel, whether you want to or not."

"Yes, Mel, I'm going to die," Annabel replies coldly, reaching for her twin knives. "But not at your hands." She rolls to her feet and ducks another blow to the head, this one from a metal foot. She flicks out her knives and pulls them to her backwards grip. "Let's have this out, shall we? A real fight. The loser dies."

"Such a simple end to our feud?" Mel sighs. "As you wish." He lets out a deep chuckle and pulls out his own knives.

*Won't you need lig-- yeah, that'll work,* Kipfel observes from the ground as Annabel's bright blue, luminescent wings push from her back.

Mel laughs. "The ceiling's low; don't expect to go anywhere."

"Oh, trust me, Mel, I don't. But even a dim light is better than none," Annabel bites back. "Let's have at it. Come on."

Mel nods and his mismatched body flings itself at her, amazingly fast and graceful for its calico composition. Half-way there, he jumps, spinning a kick towards her. He is aiming for her chest, and will more than likely make it there.

Annabel ducks and rolls under him, coming up as he lands through the point where her chest had been. She vaults onto his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and arching her back. She pulls him in an arc through the air with her tightly-muscled limbs, and slams him down onto the stony floor.

She unwraps her legs seconds before he hits, and she twists to gain her feet again. Mel, meanwhile, also staggers to his. He laughs and tosses his head. "You'll have to do better than that," he says, a sickening grin playing out over his face in the pale blue light.

"Carmelotto..." Annabel breathes, her anger taking form in her wrists, evidenced by silvery glows there. She sheathes her knives and takes a deep breath. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"That's... nice... What do you want me to do about it?"

"Only one thing, Mel," Annabel replies as a dark pit opens before them.

"And what's that?"

"Die."

A dark form claws its way out of the hole and sprouts feathery, angelic wings. It pulls out a flute and flies high above the two, letting the ceiling melt away as it flies higher. A swarm of Seraphs - or at least little people the size of the Gorgons that look more like the classic renditionings of angels than their allegedly mutated forms ever did - pops into existance around the demon. The demon plays the most haunting melody Annabel has ever heard, and the Seraphs take it up in stride, waltzing as they go.

Mel stares up at them, and Annabel simply watches Mel. The song finishes, and the dancing stops. The demon turns and points a long, bent finger down at Mel, and the Seraphs begin charging spheres of glowing energy. Annabel reaches down and snatches Kipfel into her arms as a swarm of angelic beings drives beams of energy down at Mel.

She runs down one of the forks, not caring where it leads. Her wings stay extended to form guiding lights, and she takes another turn. Kipfel, meanwhile, is returning from his previous state of being awe-stricken.

*You didn't kill him, you know.*

"Do you think I care? I don't have time to deal with him!"

Kipfel smirks. *You just want to kill him in front of your father.*

Annabel says nothing. She just runs.

Kipfel continues to smirk in the pale blue light. *Heh. I knew it.* His eyes dance with morbid amusement.

"Kipfel, do me a favor?"

*What's that?*

"Just shut up about my father and Mel. Then I won't want to strangle you."

*As you so desire, Good Mistress Nabel,* Kipfel laughs.

Annabel lets out a growl, but she does not stop. She takes another random turn, and the stench of rotting flesh assaults her nostrils again. Her first thought is 'Did we run in a huge circle?' Then she finds herself falling.

*Annabel! Wings!* Kipfel screams at her.

Annabel stares, wide-eyed, at the ground rushing up to greet them and the body that lies there.

"Between the Third and Fourth Gates," she whispers.

*ANNABEL!*

Annabel's breath catches in her chest, and her wings beat mechanically. Her tears grant her other Trainee her silent good-bye as she flies across a massive chasm, Kipfel coiled tightly about her neck. He watches the ground - or the lack thereof - below them.

*Annabel, look down and behind,* Kipfel whispers through her mind.

Annabel turns and begins to fly backwards. Below them, a wide bridge of stone begins to form, following below their flight path.

*Is that the Fourth Gate?* Kipfel asks, his voice hushed in amazement.

"Yes, Kipfel," Annabel replies with melancholy. "We're opening it now."

Annabel turns, and the two fly on towards the other side of the maze. Half the Sacred Gates are open, and Franq and Däv have been found. With dirge riding on her shoulders, Annabel journeys onward, Kipfel always by her side.

Background by Absolute Background Textures.