The Ballad of Two-Edge
Part One
“Shh, shh, shh,” she coos gently. Her eyes are shining – her stormy eyes that change colour with her every mood. Sometimes they are gray-blue, sometimes purple, sometimes gold. But in this first memory they are a shade of turquoise that burns like unearthly fire against her near-white skin and her dark hair.
“My beautiful... precious little son,” she whispers.
His father is nearby. He can feel the troll’s shadow across him. But all he sees is his mother.
“How I love you... my Two-Edge,” she croons.
* * *
Screams echo in the room. Two-Edge fights against the cage Door has made for him. He sees his father fall. She is burning his flesh with her stare. Again she wears nothing but her hair. It is longer now. It falls to the floor around her, like the feathered gown she usually wore.
Two-Edge thinks of her hair. He cannot bear to think of the pain Smelt feels.
“Mother! Mother, stop! Stop it, please, I’m begging you!”
Door lies on the ground, bound in crude bonds of leather and fur. Smelt tried to kidnap him. He tried to take the rock-shaper back to his king in the troll caverns... far away to the north. No. Winnowill will not let Father take the rock-shaper. Door is her rock-shaper, no one else’s. How could Father betray her like this, after all the years she had tended to him?
Father is wrong. Very wrong. But Mother is hurting him. Mother is killing him.
“Stop!” Two-Edge screams.
Smelt’s gray-green skin is all red now. Huge boils have spread over his body. Now they are merging into a grotesque blistered shell. It doesn’t even look like skin anymore.
“Mother! Mother!”
Smelt collapses to the ground. He is nothing but a steaming piece of burned meat. The smell is unbearable. Two-Edge turns and vomits. Still the body is burning. It turns dark brown and finally hardens to a blackened cast of cinders.
“I hate you!” Two-Edge screams. “Murderess!”
Winnowill crouches on the ground, looking at her dead lovemate. She is no longer angry. If anything, she is curious. Curious... about death, about pain... about torment. Curiousity – yes, Two-Edge knows that emotion well. Winnowill’s curiosity drives her in everything.
“Be quiet,” Winnowill hisses.
“I hate you! Elf-witch! Snake! I hate you! I hate you! I am a troll forever!”
“Be quiet and I will release you.”
“Why did you kill him? Why did you do this? I hate you, I hate you!”
“Silence!”
Two-Edge screams wildly. No words, only the raw scream of a wounded child. He screams and screams, as if to bring down the mountain with his agony.
“Silence! Silence!” Winnowill screams back. “I will make you quiet!”
Pain flares in Two-Edge’s mind. Agonizing pain. Spiders scuttle over his skin. Fire burns behind his eyes. A screaming animal struggles against the inside of his skull. So many kinds of pain, from the subtle to the grotesque. All blending together, but all sharp and distinct. He screams louder. The pain increases. He forces his eyes open and sees Winnowill, still crouched over the corpse of Smelt.
“Stop and the pain will stop,” she whispers coldly.
Stop... stop and accept. Help her destroy the remains of his poor father, live on as her pet... act as though he hasn’t seen this brutality, hasn’t smelled his father’s seared flesh...
“I hate you!”
“Obey me...”
“NEVER!” Two-Edge screams, finding a strength he didn’t know he had.
* * *
Two-Edge sits alone in his little cave. His room is small – he needs little. A bed of furs and stream of water flowing through the underground veins that pierced the mountain’s heart... and a quick access to Winnowill’s private chambers. Oh yes, even now, he likes to keep her under watch.
The games... the games have ended long ago. Winnowill has won... but only for now. Yes, yes, Two-Edge is but a broken shell now. She has cut away his spirit and left him with mere tatters of a soul. But she has only won for the moment. Two-Edge has learned how to play the game as well as she. And he will have his revenge.
Mother never smiles anymore. She hasn’t smiled since Smelt died.
Part of him still wishes to see that smile again.
No! Weakness. He has to be strong. Had he been weak, he would have broken long before. But he has a heart forged of stone that cannot be shaped by elfin magic. He has survived all the torments, all the games... products of her cruel “curiosity.” He will not break now.
The sword holds the key. And the sword is coming to Blue Mountain. Winnowill has no idea what she unleashed when she sent the Chosen Eight to capture the Wolfriders who shot down Kureel’s bond-bird. She lives in the haze of her own perceived superiority. But she will fall.
The lord of the Wolfriders is coming to Blue Mountain.
* * *
Winnowill has kidnapped the child – the little sunny sun-top. She has left the other child, the dark mirror, the little girl. The Chosen Eight have attacked the Wolfriders and Winnowill has poisoned Lord Voll with her dark thoughts.
Winnowill runs across the floor, clutching Suntop to her breast. Venka is hanging on to the hem of her robe, shooting sending stars into Winnowill’s brain. Winnowill falters with each step. Venka is only a little mump, but she can make Winnowill stagger. Oh... what she might grow up to be.
Swift appears. She leaps over the table and sprints towards Winnowill. Her sword is drawn – the moon sword is thirsty for blood.
“Winnowill!”
Winnowill reaches the large statue, the dancing birds shaped out of stone. “Two-Edge! Two-Edge!”
He obeys. He must obey. For now.
The statue shatters, and Winnowill steps onto the base of the statue, even as the pieces of rock rain down around her. Oh, what a leer of delighted cruelty touches her face. She glows from within, glows with luminous poison, like the sun that laughs at a creature dying of thirst.
“Mother!” Suntop screams. Swift is almost there. Rayek is close on her heels.
The pillar sinks into Two-Edge’s tunnel, and Winnowill disappears. Swift leaps. But she is not fast enough. Already the pillar is sliding up again. Swift can only lock eyes with her son before she is forced up the shaft.
“My cub!” Swift screams, beating on the pillar. “She has my cub!”
She turns and runs back into the dining chamber. Hidden in his own tunnels, Two-Edge listens as she pores out her rage on her kin. “All of you here and you couldn’t save him?! Skywise – where were you? Stealing pleasure with Aroree when you might have been the one to save Suntop?”
The auburn-haired elf protests. “But... we didn’t... well, see... we were fighting... and –”
“Too full of dreamberries to stand up, let alone fight!” Rayek shouts. “Fine warrior you make, Pike!”
“Well... where have you been, anyway?” Pike challenges.
Ooh, bravery from such a little squirrel.
“I just had a brush with Winnowill myself – and I beat her! But like a fool I let her go, because I thought my cubs were safe with you!”
Most of the elves bow their heads. But not all. “That’s not fair!” Eyes High snaps back. “We don’t all have your powers, Swift. Nor do we have yours, Rayek! One look from Winnowill and we were lucky to keep our very souls. We tried! Don’t think we didn’t.”
Swift backs down. Two-Edge chuckles. Ahh... she has Bearclaw’s temper. But unlike him, she can be turned from anger.
“It’s done, now,” Swift says. “Now... bird-elf.” She turns on Tyldak, seizes a wing, and presses her knee against it. “Tell me where that she-snake took my son.”
“I don’t know!” Tyldak gasps out.
“Swift, stop it!” Dewshine cries. Does she feel Tyldak’s pain, now that they are Recognized?
“There are places in this mountain known only to Winnowill. She will return the child to you when you and your tribe have left our domain for good.”
“No trade! I won’t be ordered about by her. I want Suntop now!”
“Tyldak, please tell us how to find him.”
Swift releases Tyldak. She turns away. Is she sending? Yes. She is sending for the archer. Two-Edge nods. A smart little chief.
The archer comes back with his woman. The Wolfriders gather around the pillar. And Swift raises her voice.
“Two-Edge! Two-Edge! I am Swift! The moon sword is still mine, key and all. Answer me!”
Two-Edge chuckles.
“Where is my son, sword-maker? Speak, or I’ll cut your laughter short with your own handiwork!”
“Swift-elf! Daughter of Bearclaw.... Swift-elf, keen blade, tempered where there was no shade, tempered in the desert fire... what is that you desire?”
“What do you think? My son, you crazy half-troll! If there is any honour left in your elf blood–”
Two-Edge slaps his belly. “My elf blood?” And he throws the switch. The pillar sinks, and Swift falls.
The half-troll smiles. He will show mother that his two edges are still sharp.
* * *
Winnowill is limping. The archer has shot her. The Wolfriders are closing. Rayek is close on her heels. Venka is hanging to his shoulders. Together, they shoot a powerful sending star. Winnowill runs towards her chambers. She runs for her Door. Door... the same rock-shaper she killed his father over. Door could defend himself a little, then. He was always weak, but then he could able to run, and he could shape weapons. Now he is just a mushroom – a weak little creature who can’t even raise his arms. He was easy to dispose of.
“Door! Open!” Winnowill commands.
“Winnowill!” Rayek shouts. “Give me my son, she-snake!”
“Door, I ordered you to open! How dare y–”
Winnowill looks up. Two-Edge leans out of the shadows. She sees him. And she afraid.
Ohh... how delicious. A look of pure terror on her face, her beautiful pearly face.
Winnowill turns from Rayek. She flees. Two-Edge disappears back into his tunnel. He must follow. He wants to be there when she is defeated. He wants to see her brought down.
“I am still mightier than you and your savage friends!” Winnowill screams as she staggers up the staircase. Rayek is but four or five steps behind her. She holds the child between them like a shield. He struggles, but Winnowill’s delicate hand holds his wrist tight.
“You have nothing now!” Rayek spits. “No one! Release him, or you will lose your life as well.”
“I have my power.” She stares at him with that look Two-Edge knows so well. Rayek crumples, crying out in pain.
“Stop it!” Venka cries. Winnowill shudders. Her hold on Rayek falters.
Oh... what a bright little child. Why didn’t Two-Edge have her to help him... all those years ago?
Winnowill can’t hold Suntop anymore. He tumbles free and scrambles down the stairs to his father.
“Rayek!” Swift screams. She leads the Wolfriders up the stairs. They are almost there.
Venka glares at Winnowill. The two are battling in the invisible world Two-Edge can never quite know. He watches as the little child holds out her hand for Rayek. Together they stare Winnowill down. She is backing away now, whimpering in pain.
They were going to win. The girl and her father would strike Winnowill down. And then... oh, then...
What would happen then?
Fear grips Two-Edge as he watches Winnowill backing away. She won’t let them win. Not like this. She won’t let the Wolfriders take her prisoner. She won’t let the red-haired healer lay his hands on her.
She makes her choice.
“Winnowill!” Rayek cries.
“No!” Suntop gasps.
“Timmorn’s blood!” someone shouts.
Winnowill falls to the floor, well over fifty feet below. It would kill anyone else. But already she is healing herself. She is crawling towards the darkened doorway, towards Two-Edge.
Two-Edge laughs. “Where are his bones? My father’s bones?”
“Two-Edge... help me...” she whispers.
Two-Edge only laughs. Help her – help her? Hah! Did she ever help him when the madness threatened to take the last of his tattered soul? Did she ever offer any kindness?
“Help me... my son...” she gasps.
Two-Edge falls silent for a moment. She hasn’t called him that in years.
Two-Edge retreats back into the tunnel. No. No. He has other things to do.
But she follows him... crawling... whimpering.
He means to go out to the aerie. But instead he doubles back to her room. He will wait for her.
* * *
Winnowill lies on her bed, moaning. Her ribs haven’t healed completely. Her blood flows so slowly. She is weak. He could strike her now, strike her down, destroy her flesh as she destroyed Father’s. But he can’t. He knows that. And so he only smiles.
“It has begun again.”
“No...” Winnowill gasps. “You promised! You swore you would not interfere.”
“Time and the young Wolfrider chieftain – not I – have shattered you and your world. I merely waited. The waiting is all, Mother.”
He has not called her that... not since she called him “son.”
It is only fair.
Two-Edge always plays fair. Always.
* * *
He plays fair during what the elves call the Palace War. He does. This war is elf against troll. This war will decide whose blood he holds. But it must be fair. The trolls are stronger in numbers, stronger in body. So he gives the elves little treats to even the score. He gives Swift the secret entrance to the troll caves. He gives the elves armour – gleaming brightmetal armour and fancy new weapons. But the elves don’t play fair. They are angry with him. They sneer at his gifts. And now they ally with Picknose and the other trolls. Now they use the rockshaper and the airwalking Rayek to give them the edge.
No! The edges must be equally sharpened. The scales must be balanced. So Two-Edge balances the scales for them. He steals Ekuar and destroyed the stone bridge the cheating elf had built. The elf-allied trolls are trapped on the other side of the broken bridge.
“The odds are now even! The rules are my own!” he shouts.
Cheating elves! Well, they will have to play by his rules now. Two-Edge slings the sack on his shoulder and ignores the struggles of the rock-shaper. Now the battle can commence.
Two-Edge races back to the throne room. He watches as the elves attack. How beautiful they look clad in troll armour. They almost look like worthy opponents. Maybe... maybe the elves will win after all. Maybe they will prove to him that they are the more worthy blood.
No. No... he can never quite believe that. Guttlekraw will surely win.
The elves rush in. Their wolves charge. The trolls scatter.
“Yes! YES!” Two-Edge screams. “Oh, yes!” Tears run down his face. “I have outdone you, Mother! What game of yours ever matched this?”
Blood spills. It is Swift who draws the first blood. But soon the elves fall alongside the trolls. Soon the Go-Backs are dropping everywhere. Soon Two-Edge loses sight of Swift in the melee. Those of my father’s race seem to be gaining ground, he thinks. Good. That sits well with me. At least they are honest in their greed.
No. Mustn’t think of Winnowill and her many betrayals. Not now. This is a triumph. This is–
The rockshaper!
“Gaaah! My feet!”
The rockshaper has broken an arm free. He has shaped the stone around the halfling. Two-Edge is encased in rock. It presses all around him painfully.
No! He will not be held prisoner by the rock again. Not again.
Mother!
The rockshaper in his bag falls away. Two-Edge is helpless. He can only stand and watch. Screams are everywhere. The Preservers shoot wrapstuff into the faces of the trolls. The Wolfriders and the Go-Backs muster a second attack. The wolves run rampant.
“You!” Two-Edge turns. He sees Ekuar and Rayek. They are trying to raise the metal door. But Ekuar cannot help metal. “Rock-shaper!” Unstick me and I will grant your fondest wish. I will show you how to reach the castle.”
“Hah!” Rayek shoots back. “You promise what we already have, deceiver!”
Rayek is floating the metal! He is making it rise.
NO! This wasn’t how it ought to be.
“Hah hah ha ha! Run, you old stinkwind, run!” Picknose screams.
The trolls are losing. Two-Edge is trapped. They will come for him next.
“Hsss! No! Not me! Not me–”
Two-Edge spins around. The rock bites into his ankles.
Guttlekraw is dead and mutilated.
The battle is over.
No one comes for Two-Edge. He sits alone atop the ledge as the survivors celebrate below. No one sees him, it seems.
“I’ve lost! I lost the game! Troll aided elf against troll! Nothing is decided. How shall I know what I am?”
* * *
They dance for their dead. They take their dead and give them to the snow. The elves don’t see Two-Edge pry himself from the rock. They don’t see him limp away, with feet mangled and bleeding. They don’t, but someone else does.
* * *
“Well, friend Two-Edge,” Picknose laughs as the guards drag the wounded halfling before the new king. “You played your game, here in the Frozen Mountains, but now it’s done. The little war you set us and the elves to didn’t finish quite as you expected, did it? How does it feel to lose? I wouldn’t know, myself, as you can see.”
Have you forgotten the lash of the whip, Picknose? Clearly Guttlekraw was too soft. A good master never lets his pets forget their lessons.
“What’s the matter, half-elf? Is your tongue pulped like your feet?”
Mother... Mother... you were right. I cannot play the game like you. Where are you? Help me, please. Take pity on your son.
They drag him back to his armoury. They want him to make new weapons for them. They want to make him their new master smith – their new pet.
“NO!” Two-Edge screams. He breaks for the secret tunnel above the statue of Winnowill. He can hide. He can escape. He always has before.
“Fools!” Picknose yells.
“The statue!” someone shouts. “If he gets to the door above it–”
Two-Edge scrambles madly over the steps. He reaches the statue. He is crying.
He is a small child again.
“Mother – help me!”
Hands seize him. Hands pull him from her.
“NO! Nooo....”
“He’s drooling mad, my king. No use to us at all.”
Who is talking? Yes, the guards.
“Mad, yes. But clever too. I don’t like that.”
They cast him into the snow. Picknose taunts him. He will die in the snow until he brings back the rock-shaper. If he obeys he will live happily as master smith. If he fails the Go-Backs will eat his freeze-dried corpse.
“Mother...” Two-Edge whimpers.
They toss him a staff. It lands in the snow next to him.
“Mother...”
He should die in the snow. No one wants him anymore. Not the elves, not the trolls... no one. Why does he pick up that staff? Why does he start to move? He should just die. But... somehow, he finds the strength. Daggers of pain lance up from his feet. The ice stabs him through his flimsy wrappings. Such pain...
He has endured worse. He will endure this.
Why? Why life?
Because death would be weakness. And he will never be weak.
He trudges through the snow.
He tries to think of the rhymes – those comforting rhymes that always have him strength. But they are gone. He can form no words. A day passes as he hikes through the snow... up the mountainside. A day, then another. His feet crack with each step. His muscles scream. His fingers go numb from cold.
The memories remain. The cage. The screams. The smell.
The smell of his father’s seared body.
He screams. He does not stop.
Winnowill could never silence him. No mere storm would now.
* * *
How long has Two-Edge been walking? He has long since lost track of time. He barely registers the pain as the snow swallows his broken, bloodied feet, over and over. He barely notices the ice crystals that pierce his flesh. There is no time anymore. Now, like pain, time is beyond all measurement. He walks on, his head bowed to the wind.
He falls forward. The snow will welcome him. The cold will comfort him.
“Hoooi!”
Something falls atop him. Something pushes him into the cold snow.
“NO!” Two-Edge screams. He knows this torment, this game.
Winnowill is toying with his mind. He thinks he is covered with gnawing creatures. But there are not real. Yes, they are! They are real! In the prison of his mind, everything is real.
“MOTHER!” he screams.
“Come on,” the rats hiss. “Let’s take him to the black-hair.”
“NO! Don’t take me to her! Please! Please – not to HER!”
The little maggots race all over his flesh. They crawl under his scanty robe. They nip at his flesh.
“Kahvi! Kahvi, look what we have!”
“Let me be! Let me go! Please... oh... please...”
“Hah! Let’s show him off. Rayek will get a lark out of this!”
“Rats and spiders! Rats and spiders!”
“This will tear him from his bear-poking Scroll of Colors.”
“NO! Maggots! Off me. Leave me! Rats and spiders!”
He is being dragged somewhere. He swats with his staff, but the creatures do not release him. He is being carried on a bed of centipedes and spiders. They are taking him back to her – to the queen of insects!
“Look black-hair! Here’s an old friend we have seen for a few days!”
“Rats and spiders! Maggots! Crawling things, leave off gnawing my arms, my legs!”
“Heh, we fished him out of a snowdrift near our new lodge!”
“Two-Edge! Still alive.”
“And still shooting with an unstrung bow! Just listen.”
The maggots release him. He collapses to the ground. He looks up, and he sees her. She stand before him... lessened somewhat. She is barely taller than he now. Her hair... it no longer flows to the ground. But it is her! He knows her. He sees her cold eyes. They are golden now. They turn gold when she is angry. Well he knows it.
She only stares at him.
“It is nothing, Mother. Do you hear? You cannot win this way... you will fail...”
He reaches up, seizes a hank of her hair. “Black... smooth... yessss. Where are his bones... my father’s bones! What have you done with them.... Mother?”
The rats and spiders and maggots fall into laughter. The walls are laughing at him.
“What ails you, half-troll?” Winnowill pronounces.
“All troll!” he screams. He draws back. “I am none of you. Mate-killer! Young-eating carrion bird! I am all troll!”
Winnowill stares down at him. There is pity in her eyes now.
“No, no...” Two-Edge whimpers. He cannot deny her stare. He blinks again. There is a new creature standing behind Winnowill. Shorter, weak armed. Door?
“No... I am... your son. I am a high one... the low blood does not cancel the high... the game... my game... is finished!”
He looks up. He sees the beautiful shapes carved into the stone walls. “Look... see what we built for you, Father and I. Your own secret kingdom in the depths of Blue Mountain. No rock-shaper can match the work of a troll who sets his heart to it. Hear? His heart! No one will ever see all this but you, Mother... and Door there! It is yours! YOURS!”
He limps up to Winnowill. He gazes deep into her eyes.
“Now... give it back to me – my mind! M-my self! For pity, end your game! I am your son!”
He collapses. He clutches her slender leg. He weeps.
“If ever we wished revenge on Two-Edge, that wish was granted long ago...”
“Yes. Where is Rain?”
“Rain... rain never falls in here... traitorous rain... water can not wash away the pain.”
“We must summon him – and Swift. They must see this.”
“Mother.... Mother....”
Two-Edge lies there. Winnowill has knelt down next to him. Door touches his hair gently. What new game was this? Winnowill knows no pity. Winnowill is above all kindness.
“What is this?”
“Two-Edge. Please, Swift, he needs a healing. Is Rain here?”
“He’s coming, Ekuar.”
“Voices...” Two-Edge whimpers. “Voices in the shadows... my father... where is his voice? Voices in the shadows...”
“Two-Edge! That lying, murderous troll!”
“Whoa! Easy, cousin. What’s gotten into you?”
“My father died because of him!”
“Shh, Dewshine. Look at him. He needs our pity, not our hatred.”
“Swift, how can you say that?”
Two-Edge sobs softly.
Someone lays hands on Two-Edge’s white hair. Two-Edge winces. Cold hands – cold like hers. No... no, not cold. Cool... cool as fresh water... “Mother?” he whispers.
“Shh....”
Something falls over his head. Rain... no... no, it is not cool anymore... now it’s warm and soothing... like the little baths Mother used to prepare for him. Yes, yes, Two-Edge remembers those days. It seems now that he remembers them even more sharply. The mist clears, and he sees himself as a little child again... an innocent.
He sees her smile.
A sob wells in his throat. It breaks loose. He weeps freely now. But the hands do not withdraw... Winnowill does not leave. The warmth doesn’t retreat.
“Shh... my good child... my cubling...”
Arms encircle him. Two-Edge sags against them.
“Ayooah, ayooah... the pack has feasted well...” the voice sings.
All the old pain rises and breaks. Two-Edge weeps against his mother’s arms.
“There.. there... my good child... my sweet little son...”
The fog lifts... for the first time the sunlight reaches the depths of Blue Mountain.
Two-Edge looks up. Winnowill is gone. He isn’t in Blue Mountain. He’s somewhere else... the castle! He’s in the elves’ castle! Where once stood Winnowill there is Rayek. Door is now the rock-shaper Ekuar. Swift Keen-Blade stands over him. And sitting on the ground with him is the auburn-whiskered healer, Rain.
“Where... what is this?” Two-Edge asks.
“You’re in the Palace,” Swift says. “It’s been six days since the war ended and we left you in Guttlekraw’s throne room. What has happened to you?”
“False king... King Picknose... sent me... take rock-shaper... or die... in snow. Trolls... they want the rock-shaper. If I bring him back... they will make me their master smith. They will take care of me. If not... the snow.”
Swift snorts. “Well, I see Picknose’s manners haven’t improved.”
“What do we do with him?” a Go-Back asks.
“You don’t need to go back to Picknose now,” Rain says. “You can stay here with us. We will take care of you.”
“What? No!” Dewshine cries. “He warned the trolls about us! He started this war!”
“Shh,” Swift snaps.
Rain frames Two-Edge’s face in his cool hands. “Stay with us, Two-Edge. We will chase the last of Winnowill’s torments from your mind.”
“Glider...” Two-Edge looks up at Rayek. “Swift-elf...”
Swift smiles bittersweetly. “You caused us much pain, half-troll. But I see Winnowill has caused you even greater sorrow. That pain-dealer holds no sway here. Tyldak has already sundered Blue Mountain to live here with us. We have room for you as well.”
“Let me look at those feet,” Rain says. “Agh... I... I’m tired. It may take a while, but I should be able to heal them.” He smiles. “Soon there will be no more pain, Two-Edge. Your healing begins now.”
Healing...
Can there ever be healing for Two-Edge? Can his soul ever be patched back together?
Rain and Swift help him to his feet. Now the twins have arrived, and they hide behind their father, watching the half-troll warily.
Children... children who are wanted... who are loved.
Children who know only love... and their parents’ smiling faces.
Two-Edge manages a clumsy smile. Dewshine recoils, but Suntop and Venka stare back calmly.
“Yes...” Two-Edge mumbles. “A healing...”
Elfquest copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. Elfquest, its logos, characters, situations, all related indicia, and their distinctive likenesses are trademarks of Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Some dialogue taken from Elfquest comics. All such dialogue copyright 2014 Warp Graphics, Inc. All rights reserved. Alternaverse characters and insanity copyright 2014 Jane Senese and Erin Roberts