Summary: Fifteen years after the invasion of the Ichani, Kyralia has managed to put the past behind it. The city has been rebuilt, and even the slums are better off than they were before the Battle. Kyira, daughter of the Black Magicians, is set to become a Novice. Her mother Sonea is fearful that history will repeat itself but Kyira settles into her magical routine with ease. But when murders begin around the city once more, even Rothen and Dannyl cannot ease her fears. Kyira finds herself plunged into her mothers worst nightmare, and ends up finding much more than she ever thought possible.

A/N: Okay, so this is basically a 'what happened next' story. It features all the old characters, including Dannyl, Rothen, Sonea and Dorrien. And also some new ones like Sonea's daughter Kyira and Dannyl's son Sayen. Ah yes, I know he is a lad, but all will be explained. I've retained some creative liscense at parts that some of you may not agree with but guess what? It's my story, so they are going to do what I say. Ha, I love power. Of course, I don't own any of the characters you recognise, or the world. I've just borrowed it for a while so please do not sue. Besides, I'm not making any money, so you really wouldn't get anything. I'm not very good with summaries, so I have tried to not give away too much of the story. Okay, now on with the story.

It is said that in death everything becomes clear. A comforting sense of clarity settles over you and all the things that had not made sense in the past now come full circle. You understand the words that once confused you. The touches that threw your senses. Perhaps your mind hides these truths from you, or perhaps the Gods do. But at the end, you can see the beginning and the middle so clearly.

For Akkarin this seemed true. He felt Sonea's hand slip away from his own and all his strength leave him. There was no pain, no exhaustion, nothing. His mind became a black void and his senses dulled. Then, suddenly and without his will, images began to invade this blackness. As High Lord, he was rarely confused of anything. His use of the magics others would call 'black' had heightened and sharpened his powers. He could easily slip past the defences of those who would confound him and read their mind to extract the truth. He tried not to resort to these methods but in dangerous times he had to do what he could to protect himself and the Guild. But despite all this, the simplest things still continued to defy him and create puzzles inside his mind. Perhaps his constant practice of magic had dulled what humanity he had in him, or perhaps he was never human. But he never could understand all those messy emotions others seemed to embrace so willingly. Until her.

Sonea. The image of her stopped, as if frozen in time. In a brief second he understood all the things that confused him. He understood her hesitation and uncertainty, her hatred and disgust and eventually her love. The images continued forwards and he smiled at her joy, felt sadness at her grief and felt longing at her desire. His heart broke as hers did, as they both realised this was the end for them. And then surprise took over as he felt that small pull of life inside of her. A child. Their child. Did she know this? Probably not, it had been so small that he barely acknowledged it. At once his questions stopped. He realised he would never see their child grow up. It saddened him and filled him with joy at the same time. He wouldn't see his child grow up, but at least it would. Safe with its mother in a world with no threat of war.

Everything disappeared and his mind went blank again. The black void returned, lightened only by the smallest sphere of light. This was his power, all that he had left. Not even enough to consume his body. No, he would have the same fate as those in the cemetery. He would have a grave, a tombstone and a coffin, no different from any other person in the city. Would they place his body next to Lorlen? Or would they scorn him and send his remains off someplace far away for what he had done? No, he doubted that very much. Despite the Guilds reluctance to accept that these Black Magics were in fact what saved them, even they could not escape the truth. They needed to learn this, to become what they had been taught to hate, if they ever stood a chance to survive the Ichani. Although they had lost this battle, the magicians would never give up their relentless pursuit of the Guild. He felt content that, if his death had done anything, it had been this. He had shown them what he knew all along. Magic was neither good nor evil. It was only the user that made it so.

But this could not be right. He could feel the brush of her lips against his, her tears fall upon his cheek. How could he still feel all this when he knew he was dead? Was this death? Still conscious of all around you, their grief, their sorrow? No, he must be stuck. Too broken to be alive but not enough to be dead. Time would soon take him anyway, and he could do nothing but lay there and wait for the end. Finally he felt her leave him once more, and he knew this time it was for good. She was broken inside; he could feel that even now in this void between life and death. But she would heal, at least enough to carry on. He felt pride in that, in the knowledge that Sonea would continue her life for him.

"Get to your feet."

A frown crossed his bloodied features as he heard the unfamiliar voice speak. Was he dead now? This must be the afterlife, he decided, looking around to find that the black void had vanished. Instead there was a plain room; much like the one Sonea envisioned her mind to be. A man stood in the centre, looking down at Akkarin. He looked Sachakan, although that must just be his interpretation of what he assumed was his guide. Testing his legs, he found that all the pain had gone and he could now stand. The man watched his actions with wary eyes, arms crossed over his chest.

"You do not know where you are, do you?" the man smirked, letting his hands drop down to his side. Small currents of magic flickered through his open fingers, chasing itself around both his hands. Akkarin frowned, feeling a small sense of dread trickle into his body. This surely was not normal.

"I was killed." Akkarin replied simply, bracing his palms against the side of his legs. He was not sure what was going on, but if this was a test of his magic ability, or a last fight, he was going to be ready. "I assume that this would be what comes after life." The man laughed at this, shaking his head with unconcealed amusement. Akkarin frowned again, looking around the room for some clue of where he was and what may have caused the Sachakan mans laughter.

"Such a foolish magician." The man replied in a soft voice, so soft Akkarin had to strain to hear him. "Are you sure that this is the right one?" As the man glanced down at his right hand, Akkarin followed his gaze. A red ring was resting on his finger, and it was at this that the mans attention was directed. The man nodded, obviously hearing something that he liked. Beckoning, he started out of the room.

"Come Akkarin. We have much to discuss."