It wasn’t her point that he didn’t need it. Needing something and not handing something over were two completely different things but she’d let it slide. There was no reason to argue it with him since what he proposed was simple enough. And of course, she had been assuming that this would be something to occur later in the future and not right at this moment, however; she did not argue this either. No need.
“Alright, I accept.” She declared, “just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it. No good if I die here, anyways.”

He could leave her, he had already suddenly appeared, and nothing was conceivably stopping him from disappearing just as fast. Either way, she gained more than she lost by cooperating and doing as he said. For some reason, despite what he had already admitted to, and his behavior -- she felt that he was genuinely interested in her and wouldn’t simply betray her without reason. Granted she was always taught to throw such sentimentality away. Seems she wasn’t as good a student as she thought.

She stood still, waiting for some signal or explanation -- he merely told her to stand there. So she did.

"Good, good--well, I'll get to that in just a minute. But first, a l'il tidbit about this here jewel . . ."

Brenden was one to enjoy talking, that was for sure, but fortunately, nothing he said was superfluous. Crazy as hell, maybe, but he had a lot to say, and almost all of it seemed to carry the weight of importance.

"Now, y'see, what's important about this l'il jewel isn't really the jewel itself, but what's inside of the jewel," Brenden remarked as he held up the jewel, practically in front of Yona's face, for her to inspect every angle and surface--but he wasn't giving it to her. Not yet, at least. "Don't look like much, does it? Could probably sell for a pretty penny, but that's just 'bout it."

--and it would, indeed. This was a pure jewel, untained by unnatural ingredients, that had been handed down in Prompt for generations. Elvish generations, to be exact--and it was a known fact that those people lived for a damn long time. A royal item like that could sell well enough to make a person set for life; they'd never have to worry about money again, nor would their children, grandchildren, and even great grandchildren.

Needless to say, it was understandable for someone to seek the item, but it seemed that Sturm sought it for what appeared to be its properties of keeping back shades. And now, as nothing more than the jewel, it could not keep much more than fifty feet within its safe haven.

"On the surface, that is. There are a ton of legends out there 'bout gods, angels, and demons--and one of those legends talks 'bout immortal gods. See, in those myths, gods could never die. They'd be beaten, go dormant, and come back. As you can imagine, that'd piss some people off. Score a good kill, and then it comes right back. What's the point in that? So, this guy invents a technique that hits weak souls--binds 'em, locks 'em in something. Anythin', really. There's really no myth or legend 'bout this one, but, well . . . hm. You remember that horned guy? His mission was simple: he was s'posed to find an item like that. They all do special things, and, well . . ." Brenden glanced around them, noting the shades that simply would not go past a certain point, "I s'pose this is proof enough. Here's my theory: whatever spirit is stuck inside of this thing, shades are scared to death of."

Just what is he getting at?
“Must be quite the soul,” she remarked. She was curious as to what exactly the boy wanted to test -- after all, it had something to do with the jewel, obviously. “So, this jewel is not only some royal heirloom and what not but also the … living spirit of some God? I can see why someone would want it for more than its face value.”

The young girl was still confused as to why and how the stone became so suddenly important -- but there were more questions than just that, far too many to ask, and far too many for Brenden to answer. Not that he would, he seemed to be one who would only discuss what he found important, or relevant to the topic at hand.

Regardless, she was beginning to doubt whether or not the stone was worth... handing over, to anyone -- ever. No matter the mission, they had been betrayed by the employer, and in all honesty she had no reason to complete the mission objective. But still, this was a chance of a life time ... Literally. Her father would definitely enjoy knowing of this particular item's existence and true nature. The things that could be done with such a powerful object ... Only time would tell, though.

“So, what is it you want to do? What’s this experiment?”

"Quite the jewel, indeed . . ."

Brenden's tone had become much . . . darker, to say the least, and without prompted reason, either. It was malicious, though; the same tone that one could imagine belonging to a shade, if a shade could speak. As Brenden continued to look over the small jewel, each pair of red eyes shifted. Whereas, they had originally been set upon the girl, seemingly ignoring Brenden in every way, they were now acknowledging him. He was a threat to them. As beings that existed on instinct, to acknowledge this man would be to know him as a threat, and see him as an enemy. Some snarled, some twitched, others paced, but they could not go further. What had made them each conclude this, however, was unseen.

"What I want to do is simple, really," Brenden remarked with a wide grin, all while examining the reflection that the fire caused with the jewel, "You're gonna love it."

And then, without any prior warning, he held it straight between his thumb and index finger--upon which time, Yona would only feel pain. The entire movement was unprecidented, uncalled for, and seemingly random, but if she were to open her eyes again after that single blink, she would finger new blood spilling from her chest, Brenden's thumb pressed up against the skin of her chest--right above her heart--and a horrendous pressure inside of her chest cavity. The pressure of lethargy. Of something stopping when it shouldn't have. And then, were she to look up to his face during that moment, she'd witness the epitome of sadism advertised across his face: to harm not because he wanted to harm, but because he was curious, and fulfilling that curiosity brought him joy.

Brenden was smiling. Smiling like a child should have smiled.

"There. That should do it . . . ."

Teeth gritted into the inside of the young girl’s cheeks, drawing blood, and the eye that had taken root into her forehead would shift to a ruby red -- another, more intangible eye above the red, and glaring at the only other “sentient” person in the area. Brenden.

“I’ll kill you, you …” She spoke between clenched teeth. “Bastard,” blood escaped her mouth in two small streams, one coming from each side of her lips. A familiar wave of nausea almost caused her to lose her balance, perhaps even pass out -- but she was steadfast. She remained standing, still staring in more ways than one at Brenden, and merely wishing she had it in her to grab onto the other.

“What did … - did you do?”
She asked, a hand moving to her chest out of instinct, and seeking to grasp--to hold-- the wound. She had underestimated Brenden, it seemed he was in a different league from herself, or at least she hadn't been able to even realize he attacked until the pain hit her.

But ... If he wanted to kill her, it was without a doubt that she'd be dead this very moment. It was almost reality shattering, honestly.

"Hmm . . . Sturm has always said that the scientific method should be exclusively followed. Let's see . . ." Brenden thought for a moment, "Sucks he ain't here to answer that question better. Anyways . . ."

It wouldn't take long for Yona to feel weak, though. Something was missing. Something was slowly stopping. Her breathing would be adequate, though; it was just that pressure. If she had the willpower, she may have been able to keep standing for another minute or so, but it wouldn't take long. Just like color draining from her skin, strength would slowly erode away, as it would seem that--more than anything else--the functions of her body were going to lose flow over time. Something wasn't working like it should have.

"The question: what happens if I remove the life source of one being and imbed it into the heart--the life source--of another being?" Brenden said as he pointed at Yona's chest.

Indeed, the pressure there originated from her heart and ribs: there was a hollow space, and it didn't seem as if she was going to stop bleeding anytime soon, and since Brenden was no longer holding the jewel, there was no better explanation for what happened than what he had just provided.

"Honestly? I'm none too good at this kind of thing. Hypothesis, theory, and all that horse shit--nah. Not my thing," Brenden bent down over her, "So, I'll make it simple. You're heart is going to stop beating soon. I jammed that little jewel into your ribs; they're broken, and you have a gaping hole in your heart. A gaping hole that just so happens to act as the new house for that li'l jewel. See, the pendant as a whole was what kept that god alive. This leaves both of you in the same exact position. Funny, ain't it? Now, the both of you may very well die out by tomorrow morning, but if you're lucky, my hypothesis might just be law."

Yona had scarcely heard Brenden’s explanation, his hypothesis, or whatever and had taken to falling to one knee. She still held herself up, though -- she wasn’t normal. She wasn’t about to be beaten. She had gone back to only having two eyes, unbeknownst that the other even existed -- and a hand still clutched at the gaping wound in her chest. It was absurd, really. This wasn’t happening.

“If,” she mouthed. “I-if you’re lucky … I’ll live.” She spat, blood gurgling from her mouth. She was close to losing consciousness now, it was impossible for not to. Her wounds from earlier were hurting again and now she had a hole in her chest, thanks to her new friend Brenden, and … the stone, the thing she was after so badly was now, and forever lodged inside of her body.

Haha, she thought. Looks like I won’t have to worry about the shadws anymore?

Few more seconds … Few more minutes -- an hour. Time couldn’t be gauged, at least not for her -- or rather, she couldn’t do it herself. She eventually crumpled down; her vision darkened, and blurred … All she really wanted at this point was to sleep -- anything that came with it might have even been welcomed.

“I won’t die.”

"I'll count on it," replied the grinning man.

By that point, the girl was barely clinging to consciousness. He could see her, crumpled up as she was, barely holding on. To consciousness? To life? After awhile, it was going to make no difference to him. This was all just a test to him--one he knew that he'd never see the result of.

"And I'm sure Sturm will, too."

The last image of him she would see would be his back turned to her; Brenden was walking away from her. His hands were in his pockets, and the closer he got to the border of shades, the more they seemed to lunge at him, though never breaking that barrier. Before he stepped forward into the darkness, he removed one hand from his pocket, lifting it up, and using only the simplistic action of snapping his fingers. This initiated a slew of seemingly random bursts of shadows; pairs of red eyes before him began to fade in instants, leaving behind a dark mist--and it didn't stop. Brenden stepped forward, disappearing into that mist, presumably forever. It may very well have been the last that the girl ever saw of him, even if she did manage to live.

Unconsciousness for the girl would come, but only as soon as her heart finally stopped beating . . .

Morning …

Despite the amount of time that would’ve passed before the girl would eventually come to, the city was still burning, although not nearly as fiercely, but burning none the less. The smell of sulfur assaulting her senses were enough to make her recall the nausea from the night before and that would force her to quickly clutch at her chest, a sharp, and sudden pain running through her entire body.

“H-how … Am I?”

Slowly and on wobbly knees the girl would stand. Her body ached but aside from the wound in her chest, she had no real pain, and the wound itself had gotten considerably smaller. In fact, at this rate it would’ve been healed really soon -- if not in a few days.

Still, by all rights she should have been dead. Long ago, long before now. But she wasn’t and she felt… Almost great. She couldn’t help but smile, her teeth still stained by blood, and her face dirtied. But she smiled, a hand held flat against her forehead, and her knees slightly bent. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The joy of living, something she had honestly never experienced before.

“That bastard, Brenden!”

She suddenly exclaimed and looked around but he was no where in sight … Actually, nothing was --literally-- in sight. No corpses or shadows were present, she was completely alone in the ruined, and burning city.

That’s right … He left right before I lost consciousness. Just what the hell was he? And what were they …

The young girl took a few hours to raid and salvage what she could from the city. Luckily, what appeared to be a rich man’s estate was relatively untouched. Blood was smeared all around the house but just like the city streets there were no shadows and no corpses. Only the blood told the gruesome story -- but that was merely a second though --. she quickly found some plain clothing and an abandoned weapon, a small short sword, presumably not even drawn to defend against the attacking shadows. The poor fools stood no chance.

“So,” she questioned. “You’re supposed to be alive?”
Speaking to her new heart, the girl started rummaging through the house, looking for anything they may have had food, and other such things stored in. She wasn’t really expecting an answer and just as well, she received none.

After a day or two she’d eventually be picked up by her father and other operatives. It was only a matter of time and until then, she’d live off of the city, and get her wits together. Her mind was still at work processing everything that had occurred … She had plenty to go over, after all.

Where do those things come from, anyway?