Reformation of the Seven As the others were filling Mora in on everything that had happened since her absence (she, in turn, regaling her own exciting story), the man in white looked at the Seven, those now totally fallen both from grace and power. With an iron stare he lifted them up and commanded them to approach him. Nobody was in a position to argue or refuse, not even the lazy Sloth. He actually surprised a few people by standing on his own two feet and trudging forth like a zombie. "Wonder what's going on," Mora said, observing the spectacle. She let out a weary gust and fell bottom-first onto the ground, too beaten to even stand. "Not that I really care," she added; "I'm too tired to. Anybody seen what happened to the old man I was fighting?" "I believe he landed in that direction," Kathryn pointed. A small team ran out to see, and winced as they came across the flattened old man, dead as dead could be, his ghastly face thankfully buried in the ground. For good measure, Julie poked him. "I'll bet he didn't see that coming," muttered Sally. She shuddered and looked away, and soon everyone made a note to not approach the body. They were more interested in what was happening now: the Seven had all gathered around the strange man in white, not a one of them resembling their old wicked selves. Wrath still shivered in fear, Lust and Pride were ugly, Gluttony looked sick with starvation, Envy held herself and wept, Sloth wheezed with exhaustion, and Avarice stood cold and naked, save for a scrap improvised for a loincloth. "Your master is dead," announced the white one, and his smile returned and the glow he had been covered with was now gone; his old self. "You are without guidance. Accept your defeat. Now is the time for you all to receive the fruits of your labor. As you have sewn seven great evils in your life, so too will you be afflicted with torment fitting your crimes. This is the price all men and women must pay for their sin. Holivx Dirge, come forth." Wrath's fear intensified, and he looked like a little child summoned to see an angry school principal. With Omega gone and his influence lost, the mind of the man became clear. So many wrongs, he had done so many wrongs! How could he, a man who once valued justice, have stooped so low? Perhaps he, more than any of the others, was remorseful for his sins and acknowledged his sentence. The man in white placed his naked hand on Holivx's forehead, making the man scream in pain. "I sentence you to a life of service, where you will make up for your wrongs, work off your debts with your own toil, and suffer as those you have harmed did suffer. In a year's time, if you have reformed, this sentence will be revoked and you will be given your freedom. Perhaps some day you will realize, Holivx, that justice is not the only right in this world. You are dismissed." The man once known as Wrath wept, bowing several times as he stepped back. So, that was his punishment. It was a fitting one. "Christine Velshoni, come forth." Now Envy toddled up, still clutching Aura's coin, looking more pathetic by the minute. Mr. White touched the palm of her right hand, making her scream in pain. "I sentence you to a life serving and aiding the poor. For your crimes of envy, you are to live in the worst conditions, aid those who are even less fortunate than you, and enjoy not but what you have earned. In this I hope you mend your ways! In a year's time, if you have indeed reformed, I shall revoke this sentence and you will be freed. Perhaps with this, you will know what it means to be blessed, to not want what you do not need, and to be content. You are dismissed." The woman once known as Envy wept as Wrath had before her, and bowed as she joined Holivx. Even with this she was grateful: he had been very generous to her, and so had Aura. Their generosity had opened up her rocky heart; now she was ready to open it more. "Rosalyn Eden, come forth." "You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "Look at me! I'm scarred for life! That freak destroyed me! Now I won't even be loved by a blind man! Don't you think this is punishment enough?" "No," he stated in a powerful voice. "My punishment is far, far worse, Rosalyn! Alisti Kreager, come forth!" Alisti, the Disintegrator, winced as he called her name. She wasn't one of the Seven! She hadn't done anything wrong—well, nothing that bad. ...Not recently, anyway. WHAT? "Come here," he beckoned. Alisti looked to Skye, who could only nod solemnly. She snorted, and wheeled herself up, glaring at Mr. White with her wild eyes. He just smiled and clasped her only operable hand, then took Lust's. As soon as they both touched him, something like lightning boomed, sending a mighty flash of light and crash of sound. Both Alisti and Lust screamed as they were thrown back, Alisti clean out of her chair, and for awhile neither woman moved. Then, in spite of everything that had happened, something even more horrible and entrancing occurred that made a few people weep in fear. Alisti Kreager stood up to her full height. Rosalyn Eden wailed in misery. They were amazed at what happened to them. She could feel herself standing, and her fingers—all of them—flexing just fine. She could move her hips, and her knees, and for the first time since her birth, her mind was clear and calm, no longer raging in anger and sorrow. She took a deep breath, stepped forth, and stumbled, just like a baby might've. She gave out a small yell and was frankly shocked to hear that she really had a voice. "...I can talk," she whispered, staring at her hands and her friends and the world again in a whole new light. She gasped and wept: "I...can speak. This is my voice. This is my mind. I can talk. I'm...all right again. I'm all right!" She laughed and hugged herself—then realized just why she could stand and move and talk. Alisti Kreager gasped in amazement as she saw, for the first time, she was no longer in her body. Rosalyn Eden was. Or, to be more precise, she was now in the body that had once belonged to Alisti. Stricken into that cursed shell, she wailed around helplessly, her legs dysfunctional and her hand limp. Words could not come from her mouth, only ugly moans and cries, and a million thoughts of rage, confusion, exhaustion, grief, and astonishment clouded her mind until she thought she would explode. HELP! Everyone jerked back as they heard the voice. It did not sound like Alisti; it sounded like Lust. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! WHERE AM I?! THIS ISN'T...OH, GOD! GOD IN HEAVEN! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!! "Unbelievable!" exclaimed Stevenson, who understood things first. "He just...switched their bodies!!" "WHAT!" WHAT! "Alisti is now in Lust's body!" he exclaimed, pointing to the startled, scarred, beautiful, standing Alisti. "And Lust...oh my God..." Even he shuddered and fell to his knees, unable to bear what had just happened. Alisti, her mind and soul transferred to Lust's body, shivered and wept, but even she didn't know which emotion the tears came from. The Seven all looked ill, even Sloth. Lust's punishment was to have that hideous body!! "Settle down," said Mr. White, his voice reaching everyone and silencing them. He helped the woman formerly known as Lust into her chair, then addressed her again: "This is your punishment, Rosalyn. You have used your wonderful body far too sinfully, and for that, you are reduced to this pathetic shell. Alisti," he indicated, "a far better person than you, is thus gifted with your body, thankfully with none of your skills. She has earned this; to her I give your skin, your beauty, your own self. And you...shall soon know what it means to be cursed." I HATE YOU!!!! "No doubt," he admitted. "But I am not without heart. Holivx and Christine shall take care of you, as is their punishment. You just have to cope with this form for a year. If you have reformed by then, I have it in my powers to give strength back to your legs and arm, thoughts to your mind, and speech to your voice. But you shall never be freed from this body for as long as you live. Do you understand?" Rosalyn just screamed hopelessly, loud and long, until her voice died and her mind took over. Alisti was still in shock, and had to sit down before she fainted. Skye approached her, not quite sure what to make of all this. Alisti? Are you...there? Alisti blinked (with Lust's eyes), looked up, and saw Skye, still pretty and patient and wonderfully understanding. She extended her right arm, the one that had been disabled in her own body, and clasped it around Skye's hand. She then smiled and pulled herself up, embracing the other woman. "It's...me," she whispered, hearing her own voice. She did not have Lust's sultry sound; this was her own. She didn't say anything else; she just embraced Skye and stared endlessly into her eyes, forgetting for a moment that she could now speak. But the words wouldn't do her any good anyway; this was a moment reserved for silence. Ignoring them for the moment, Mr. White then turned to his next penitent. "Edward Nashiyori, come forth." Scarred, burned, and naked save for the piece of fabric around his waist, the man once known as Avarice could only crawl. He scowled, though, resistant to the end, and only lowered his head because he could not bear to look at the harsh, sickly-smiling face of his judge. "Your punishment is great," said Mr. White, almost in pleasure. "First I will siphon every last measure of currency and value from everything you possess and give it to those who need it most. You will be penniless in a week!" "What! No!" he screamed, desperate and wild. Thirteen went on. "Once you are completely bankrupt, you will live with the others. I have arranged it so that every one of you will have the same lodgings. You will live in a small, poor, destitute village, and there you are to labor until your sins are swept clean. You, Edward, shall help with the poor, along with Christine. There maybe you will learn what value really means. I hope to see you reform." Nashiyori scowled, of course, but he couldn't match the white one's gaze, nor rebuke him for his sentence. He could only back away, broken into pieces, left to wallow in his own ruin. Only Edward, out of all the seven there, entertained thoughts of vengeance and rebellion; the ones before him seemed willing to comply. "Frederick Revini," called Thirteen. Since he was still bound in Xianq's gum wrapping, Gluttony had to be dragged by Kristen. He could barely even stare at the man in white, who with but a humble nod dissolved the bind. "Hungry?" hissed he, making Edward wince in agony. "Good. Your punishment will be particularly nasty. For a single week you will be unable to eat anything! Just as Midas before you was unable to feed himself for his greed, so shall you. That which you touch shall turn into dust, and you will starve for a week. "Afterwards," he continued, ignoring Frederick's pale face, "you will be forced into labor befitting your crimes. For six months you will never be able to eat more than what is necessary to sustain your life, though surrounded by banquets you may be. After this period, you will only be given what you have worked for, not a crumb more. If by a year's time you have reformed, this punishment shall be lifted. But have a care!" he warned. "Should you, or any of you, return to your evil ways, a far deadlier sentence will you receive! Now, begone." Frederick actually wept and covered his face as he slowly waddled away. He wanted to rebel, of course, but he loved food far too dearly and was too frightened of the curse to do anything. Some of the others looked at him in pity (or worse); Rosalyn had finally stopped wailing and was being quiet, though anyone could tell she wanted to be alone. There were only two left, possibly some of the most incurable cases yet. But of course, they were up against somebody that had obliterated their master with a mere snap of his fingers—what could they do? "Timothy Grotin. Come forth." Despite his pain, both physical and egotistical, the man known as Pride scowled furiously. No—that wasn't his name, not any more! He had changed it; he was Hanz Himmler, the perfect man, and nobody—nobody—would address him as anything less. Of course, he could no longer have such esteem now that his once-beautiful face was scarred by acid, his victories destroyed, his master gone, and his allies defeated. He walked up to Mr. White, and in spite of his pain, crossed his arms and sneered. "Kneel," commanded Thirteen. A fear ten times greater than anything Joyce could deliver overcame Hanz—Timothy, that is—and not only did he kneel, but he became prostate and let his forehead touch the floor. That Mr. White still smiled made the scene all the more sickening to watch, even for those who hated Hanz. "I have a simple punishment for you, Timothy," said Mr. White: "Take a look in this mirror." Hanz then realized that he had not yet seen his disfigured face, nor, now that he thought about it, did he want to. But some godless power forced him to look, and as he stared at the monster in the reflective glass (produced from some invisible pocket of space, maybe), he wailed and thrust his hand against the damned object. "This disfiguration is punishment enough!" shouted Thirteen above Pride's racket. "Bear it well, Timothy! For one year you are to look this way, twisted and ugly, and like your comrades, I require you to labor in the village and help those unfortunates afflicted by the tragedies you caused. I especially give you the personal care of Rosalyn, who shares a similar physical burden. May you love each other in your monstrous appearance! In a year's time, perhaps, many of those scars will be healed, and you will gain some semblance of a human face. But you shall never be the same." Poor Hanz was still distraught over seeing his ruined face to accept or deny his punishment. He fell to the ground and keened like a baby, and would not be silenced. Even Christine looked at him in pity, if not disgust. She knelt by his deformed body and started to help him up, but he swatted at her and tumbled away, going only a few steps before tripping and falling in the dirt. Most people couldn't bear to watch, and turned their focus on the last of the Seven to receive judgment. "Walter Barsnef, come here." He had no choice: the man once known as Sloth actually walked up, gazing fearfully into Mr. White's smiling, eerie face. He was not asked to kneel. "Feeling tired, are we?" asked he, sounding gleeful. "Good, that is good. Your punishment will be the most difficult, I would wager. You shall have the brunt of the physical labor placed upon your shoulders. You will work as a Son of Father should work, and grind yourself into the dirt until you are utterly spent! A taskmaster shall be assigned to you; the more you work, the less you will feel his wrath. As with the others, if you have changed by a year's time, this burden shall be lightened." "And if not?" spat Edward. Mr. White's smile suddenly turned very vile, and Nashiyori shuddered. "Pray you never find out, O Man. Now...go." "Wait," called a voice, one belonging to Holivx. "Wait. Don't send us away yet, please. Not yet." "Why not?" He took several gasping breaths, turned, and faced those he had harmed, a look of grief and regret now in his eyes. "Because...I owe the people here a debt. I, more than any of the others, should have repulsed the evil in my system. That's why I deserve this—not because of my sins, but because I welcomed them! However, I would like to help; a small way of making amends." Kristen, probably the one who had fought him the most, scoffed. "You? Help us?" "I apologize for everything," he said, full of sorrow. "I know I can't make it up to you, but let me at least try! I have some information regarding the other cult members." "...And that is?" He sighed. "Without Mast... Without Omega, they will go berserk and avenge him. I heard there are at least five thousand members scattered worldwide, and they will all converge here, at this point, to take out the ones responsible." "So? You've seen how Mr. White blasted Omega. He can just blast them too." "I do not kill humans," said Thirteen coldly. "That is not my task. If you wish to defend yourselves and the city, this job falls to you." "...You're kidding!" spat Rin. "Five thousand?! And you won't even help?!" "Actually," murmured Christine quietly, "it's...eight thousand. Eight-thousand, two-hundred, thirty-seven to be exact. That does not count the other army." "What other army?!" screamed the Ronin. Christine stood up and shivered; she too looked remorseful for everything she had done, and wanted to help. "When we left him, Mast—Omega was signing allegiances with two other people; I forget their names. These two people are necromancers, able to bring back the dead. I heard them whispering about summoning an army of undead warriors, all the great warriors from the past, and overwhelming the city, and all cities of the world. I have no doubt that they'll try and join up with the cultists." Rin Takamatsu, and most everyone else there, were so shaken by this news that they could do nothing but fall on the ground and sit. Over eight thousand fanatics devoted to the vengeance of their master was far too much, but an entire army of undead warriors added to it? It was ghastly, catastrophic news, and even the sturdiest hearts there quailed. Only Thirteen kept his smile; he seemed completely unconcerned. MALCHIOR, came a hoarse croak from Rosalyn's direction. She turned to look at the team assembled there and said, MALCHIOR. HE IS ONE OF THEIR LEADERS. HE'S THE NECROMANCER. AND...KISSA, I THINK, IS THE OTHER. "Damn!" spat Rin angrily. "I knew she was no good! Is this about me not killing any of those people on her list?" "Probably not," muttered Kathy, holding Kailin's hand for support. "This does not seem to be an act of retribution against you in particular; it's too encompassing. I think it wouldn't make a difference even if you had done everything she asked. I think she was planning this all along." "And you didn't tell us?" "I said I think she was doing this," replied Kathy harshly. "I wasn't certain. Not that there was anything I could've done anyway, not in my condition." Rin wanted to ask just what the young Angel's relationship to Kissa was, but was interrupted by Amielle. "Malchior... He must've been that guy we met in that graveyard, the one bringing up all those zombies. You remember, don't you P—Alicia?" She had frozen for but a second, frightened that she had given everything away. At the last moment she redeemed herself, though Mr. White stared at her coolly. Alicia nodded. "Then I guess we have a good excuse to kill them both!" exclaimed Rin, brandishing her sword. "But how in the hell are we gonna fight that big huge army? All of us put together couldn't make a dent in a group that size!" "I'm sure we'll come up with something," said Stevenson, rubbing his chin. "Right now we better rest, and send these seven away. We're grateful for the news," he said to them, "though it was pretty grim. But at least we're prepared. That's some exoneration for you at least." The three that had divulged information nodded; the others were still miserable. Christine spoke up next, slowly walking back up to Aura and bowing. "Here," she said, presenting the coin. "You take it. I have a feeling you'll need it more than I will." "No, really, you keep it. You need it. I still have my powers, just not at full strength." "Then take this," she insisted, planting the coin in Aura's hands, "and be at full strength. Please. This is the first time I've ever given anybody anything, so please take it." Aura smiled warmly and promised she would, but vowed to give it back once everything was settled. Mr. White spoke up next, apparently trying to ease some minds. "I am sure this obstacle will be overcome, and I did not say I would not help. I will just not kill a human being. That is not my duty. As for you," he addressed to the Seven, "I may never see you again, but the council in the village will act as your judges. May even your souls be redeemed; I take no pleasure in damning humans!" As he said this, a clear, clean wind swept across and (it seemed) literally blew the Seven from the eyes of their enemies into a dirty village square, the center of their new, permanent world. Once they got their bearings, most stood and looked at their surroundings, some of them fearful and anxious. In all their ugliness, Hanz and Rosalyn held hands, and Holivx stood with his head hanging, ready to face the trials. ......... It was a long and grueling time for the seven of them in the village. The work was much harder than Thirteen had described to them, and the torture of having their sins cast back upon them made things even worse. Holivx immediately got to work and accepted his punishment, and in just a few short weeks had completely reformed and turned out to be quite a great man; his family was brought into the village later, and there they lived for the rest of their lives, Dirge himself later becoming appointed as a mid-level magistrate. He still fought for justice, yes, but now that he knew the full meaning of grace, he worked for this as well. Christine also set out to work as soon as she could, but once she dove into the deepest and darkest places there, she couldn't help but weep in sorrow. The village was nearly flooded with people a dozen times more worse off than she had ever been! Most had no clothes, little food, and their living conditions made her old shack look like a palace. The granite that had formed around her heart quickly melted as she cared for them all, and soon she too reformed, ending up a very generous person. She still had some envy, of course, but she also had the discipline to work for what she wanted instead of merely going after it. Only Rosalyn was excused from the hard labor, and for obvious reasons. Being trapped in Alisti's old body—unable to move, think clearly, or even speak—was terrifying, worse than Hell, and for awhile she wanted to die. On the other hand, she did grow incredibly close to Hanz, who she could not see as ugly, and also became close friends with Christine. Rosalyn did finally mend her ways, and by the year's end wept for joy as she took her first steps (and said her first words) in her new body. Since she was unable to have children regardless of her condition, she merely adopted three orphans, and became a rather good mother. For poor Frederick, every day was agonizing. True to Mr. White's words, everything that could be considered edible, even paper, turned into dust and ashes whenever he touched them. He wasn't even able to lift spoons or forks, and was forced to go on a juice diet just to sustain his sanity. When he was first presented with real food, he wanted to gorge himself stupid—but all he got was enough to live on, and considering his size, it wasn't very much. This drove him to insanity and beyond several times, and there were days his colleagues feared for him. It nearly took him the entire year to get his act straight, but by then, he had lost so much weight and gained so much muscle that he ended up becoming quite an attractive man, and drew some very hungry stares from the village women. Needless to say, he considered this a fair trade. Hanz kept himself distant from everyone for the first month there, save Rosalyn, and only worked when he was forced to, which was about all the time. Rosalyn ended up being his rock and fortress during that time, and he became hers. Working humbly for a change disgusted him, but seeing everyone else stoop just as low made the burden easier to bear. Later on, he started to volunteer for work, realizing that more people respected him when he was humble than when he had been full of himself. Hanz never quite got rid of all his pride, but there were some variations of it that should not go away. He did turn out all right, though he never regained his beauty. Instead he legally married Rosalyn, and became a father of three adopted children. Like Frederick, Walter also had a tough time of things. He still held onto his slacker ways, and spent every waking moment...well, asleep. This made his taskmaster hound him every day, yelling and even whipping him if he so much as sat down. Walter tried to feign illness and weakness, but it was no good, and besides, he wasn't fed if he didn't work. The year had in fact nearly drawn to a close before he started doing things right, but perhaps it was the grim promise of worse punishment that motivated him, nothing else. Regardless, the middle-aged man did become a much harder worker and finally developed some muscle, though he always found some excuse to sleep an hour late. Only Edward did not reform. Out of all the Seven, his soul was the darkest, his lust the strongest, and his curse the most hopeless. Not only did he not reform, but he actually started taking advantage of all the villagers, even stooping so low as to rob from the very poor he had been commissioned to help. By the year's end, he was actually worse than when he had first started, leaving the village council no choice but to declare their sentence. Edward was immediately executed that day, his body tossed in the sea, his assets divided, and his soul gone forever. The remaining Seven still mourned him, though they did it fearfully, and worked even harder lest the same fate should befall them (though by that time it wasn't necessary). Even with all this on their shoulders, the people once called the Seven had it easy. For the others, they were entering into the darkest part of their lives. Their trials had just begun. Next chapter: The Calm
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