A Dark Hope

A ghostly, purple spirit with a strange mask placed upon the face barely floated above the Thyrian ground. The Glowerorbs had shut from the eventual night that pervaded the lands, leaving the world in almost complete darkness. The witch has been bested in battle once during Evil's plans and her Master had sacrificed herself to stop Evil, the greatness of Misery could never be attained by someone so low as Kerava.

The dear witch understood what to do now, she just did not know how to approach the issue at hand correctly. She had returned to Thyria, the supposed planet that contained the most suffering, at least in some retrospect. It had not mattered, Kerava found it to be her own "Misery Zone", as for a short time she had taken the throne of planet, and caused suffering everywhere. But alas, she had lost that fight to an elderly woman and a young Zendarion boy by the name of Saizir.

"Master... You have left me!! You have no idea how great it feels to suffer without your existence, yet you are unable to savor my very pain!" Kerava screeched, her ghostly form becoming red for a few moments, "Evil's foolish plot completely ruined everything! EVERYTHING!! What is my purpose?! How can I help you, when you no longer exist?!"

The ghost sighed in silence, in the deepest of Misery that she had ever felt. Yet the very pain she had to endure was not to be given to her very Master. Evil had taken Misery's place, and giving Misery to Evil was a most... Dissatisfying taste. The ghost floated quietly, having given her small speech to pure emptiness; she didn't realize where she was before she heard the music of a party going on. She had accidentally floated through a wall, coming upon her once-races' parties, a joyous one at that.

There was obviously royalty involved, as there was a man sitting in a throne, and a few guards around. A few people dressed in fine clothes, tasting the finest of wines, and overall having nice conversations about diplomatic doings. Kerava thus made herself hide in the room, to see if she could stir up some 'fun', before she was interrupted by a harsh voice.

"What in Oblivion do you want?" Questioned a woman with a shrill and harsh voice, she wore a brown, long overcoat and wore beautiful blue earrings, she was being confronted by a man who wore just as equally nice, but more used clothing compared to the woman's, who seemed like she had just bought hers.

"I didn't know that you'd show up tonight Maven." The man stated calmly. "Have you learned nothing of me? I have dealings with everyone. This 'party' is for a peace product of the Zendarion and Nazlar nations, of which I'm sure you don't want as your enemies." A master of neutral expressions that woman was. "But don't you have-"

"Do not speak of that here. Part of having dealings with everyone is not letting all of your connections become aware of the others." Maven calmly interrupted, "Kyrr, I presume, besides your mindless drabble, that you have a higher reason for bothering me?" "No, not re-"

"I don't have time for idle chit-chat."

"Here then." Kyrr handed Maven a blue colored book, to which Maven quickly accepted; in reading the front page, which said "The Four Corners", she knew immediately what Kyrr knew, but she responded calmly:

"Good, more kindling for my hearth."

"What..." Kyrr was dumbfounded, "How about I tell the King right now about your-"

"If you go outside, you'll meet a friend of mine. You will keep silent, lest the ironworks will be meeting you soon." Kyrr gulped in response as Maven took a sip of her wine, and calmly left the party down a long winded hall. Kerava floated, following the foul woman in pursuit. The witch got ahead of herself though, and floated in front of Maven's face, who merely stopped and stared.

"I presume you're bothering me for a good reason?" Maven questioned the ghostly-witch. Kerava was now definitely interested in this woman, "I'm surprised you didn't get scared." "One tends to not be bothered by mere spirits when one has seen far worse."

"Really. Well, I doubt it'll be a problem if I showed you Misery." Kerava tried using a fear tactic, in hopes that a God, at least highest God in Kerava's eyes, would make Maven quake in her shoes at the mention of the name.

"The Weaver of Sorrow easily exists in this Alpha-Forsaken land, though obviously not as prevalent as she was earlier.”

Kerava was quiet, unable to know how to exactly talk with this woman, who so clearly did not give a care about anything that was said, but also had become somewhat educated on the Absolute Misery.

"I believe we're done." Maven walked through Kerava's ghostly form.