They both drop to the the ground, distancing themselves from each other like estranged family members. "I swear that should your concentration wane, even for a fleeting moment, I will have your blood on the sword."

"Concentration?" Her laughter sends an involuntary chill down his spine. The ache in his injured shoulder strengthens. "What concentration?" In the everlasting glow of the camp fire, he sees it... her piercing gaze. Her eyes are not empty. They are fully animated. "I am just a girl armed with a measly stick. What concentration can I possibly have?"

"You evoke little sympathy in me."

"I cannot say I am displeased to hear such words."

He has unsheathed. Please, mother. Please, let me out. Let me out!

Not tonight.

She watches as he advances within her clear range of vision. Everything after becomes a crimson blur. He draws the blade back and lunges forward with unnatural force and speed. She shifts her body to the left, but not far enough, allowing the sword to slice through black, silky satin, drawing the first true blood of the night. 

She whips around to face him.  He ends up only a few arm lengths away from her. "You ruined my favorite wrap." The space in between is scorching hot. She parts the torn fabric to reveal brilliant white skin hidden beneath. "If you must cut my skin... then I suggest you cut it directly." She stands open, inviting him in.

It is a trap. Do not fall for it, boy.

"I will do what I came to do."

"You should have never left me to begin with. Because I... I am the only one." She speaks... but not to the wielder. Every word she has uttered thus far have been reserve for one... only one. The one she loves most. Her first teacher. Her first lover.

Do not do it, boy. It is an obvious trap.

Indeed, Blood Lust is correct. She has set up a trap.  But this trap, it is set to lure someone else... someone... hiding in plain sight. If she is correct in judging his character, at a crucial moment like this, he will not stand by and watch. She is counting on him to intervene... as he has never failed to do so.

"I don't know what game you two are playing, but it looks dangerous. And, Lingling, please... cover yourself. There's nothing to see there."

"You have come back as promised." She is thankful to him. Thankful that there will be no more delays.

"Cousin... you live."

"Fortunately, yes. Now why don't you lower that sword, Jaejoong, so we can have a nice, safe reunion."

"I... do not think I will. You are supposed to be dead like the rest of them. After I send her off... you may follow." But... there will be no such chance.

Before he knows it is missing, the sword is torn from his grasp. He watches it move safely beyond his reach, in the hand of his skilled cousin.

"Ever since we were children, Jaejoong, you were always easy to distract. You are a complete fool when your mind is focused on one thing and one thing alone."

She studies him most anxiously... now that Donghae is, at last, in the possession of Blood Lust. She will soon have the answer she seeks. Will a demon sword change him?

"The Sword Saint... is you." It is not a question... yet, the tone suggest he wants it to be. Impossible... yet, he finds himself free... free, and most of all, empty... as if his insides have been carved out. The realization hits. He tries to scream to relieve the sudden pain growing from inside his empty core, but he cannot gather the air required to do so. His body has seemingly shut down from the shock.

"Are those truly your words, Donghae?" She approaches the new wielder of Blood Lust most cautiously. "Think deeply... are those truly yours... or..."

Mine.