I claim copyright to anything that J. K. Rowling didn't make up. I'll give
you the right to use stuff I made up though, if you e-mail me at
Elrusmimac@aol.com and find out how.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------
Reborn
I. The Elders
The Elders stood before the Shadow. Their eyes gleamed in the night like shards of black glass, and their cloaks swished in the little spirals of air caused by the uncomfortable rustling of their crow-black wings. The nephilim were not eager to speak of such delicate matters when alliances that should have been strong were weak as winter's sun.
The Shadow smiled, his thin, pale figure wreathed in darkness, and began. "Welcome, my council of Elders, who I hope I may call friends," he paused, and smiled again. He seemed sincere, but the nephilim were in no mood for friendship.
The Shadow continued, none the less. "You have all, I suppose, expected me to call you together for some time now about the issue we are gathered here now to discuss. I speak, of course, of your future leader, Rakiri. As you all know, and I hope you all accept, I cannot allow her to rule as she is." He shook his head slowly; "she will bring death and destruction upon the world with her sympathy for a single human." The smile was gone from the Shadow's lips, and he gazed as if into the distant future.
Matarek, the nephilim's leader, broke the brief silence. "Then what do you suggest we do, my lord?" he sneered with mock respect. "Shall we go leaderless or accept you as our lord and master?" Matarek's eyes flashed with distrust.
The Shadow was truly taken aback as he scanned the ranks of the elders of the nephilim. He searched for support, but found none. The nephilim's faces were all mirrors of Matarek's, mixed with varying degrees of hatred. The Shadow had heard of their discontent, but he had discounted the stories of impending rebellion. Apparently, this had been a mistake. Perhaps Rakiri at least remained faithful, although this did not seem likely.
"I do not mean to deprive you of your future leader," the shadow said softly, trying to reassure the rebellious nephilim. "Perhaps if she knew what it meant to be human-"
"To be human!" interjected Matarek loudly. "You aren't suggesting we make her a changeling? That would be worse than to follow you alone!"
"Yes, Matarek." The Shadow's voice was soft as silk, cold as ice, and filled with every shred of power he possessed. "That is exactly what I mean. But you are wrong. I make no suggestions. That is what must happen, and so it will come to be, in time." His eyes glinted with warning momentarily.
Matarek made as if to leave, and the rest of the council moved to follow him, but the Shadow held up his hand.
"Do not turn you backs on me Matarek, Elders. I will always command you, with or without a leader." The Shadows eyes were filled suddenly with a flickering light that had nothing to do with the fading lights of the night's sky.
"We will be commanded by no one!" hissed Matarek over his shoulder as he continued.
"Then you leave me with no choice but to punish you for your arrogance," replied the Shadow with a note of regret in his voice.
"Punish us? How?" Matarek sneered as he turned, laughing openly. "We are your army. You can do nothing to us." He turned and strode away, the rest of the nephilim following behind.
"So be it." whispered the Shadow. And the Great War began. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Here is the little commentary for all the people who get bored at the beginning of the chapter. There will always be one, but you don't have to read it to understand the story. In fact, it leaves out a lot of crucial information.
Basically what happens here is that the Shadow gets mad at the Elders of the nephilim and so they walk away. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
Reborn
I. The Elders
The Elders stood before the Shadow. Their eyes gleamed in the night like shards of black glass, and their cloaks swished in the little spirals of air caused by the uncomfortable rustling of their crow-black wings. The nephilim were not eager to speak of such delicate matters when alliances that should have been strong were weak as winter's sun.
The Shadow smiled, his thin, pale figure wreathed in darkness, and began. "Welcome, my council of Elders, who I hope I may call friends," he paused, and smiled again. He seemed sincere, but the nephilim were in no mood for friendship.
The Shadow continued, none the less. "You have all, I suppose, expected me to call you together for some time now about the issue we are gathered here now to discuss. I speak, of course, of your future leader, Rakiri. As you all know, and I hope you all accept, I cannot allow her to rule as she is." He shook his head slowly; "she will bring death and destruction upon the world with her sympathy for a single human." The smile was gone from the Shadow's lips, and he gazed as if into the distant future.
Matarek, the nephilim's leader, broke the brief silence. "Then what do you suggest we do, my lord?" he sneered with mock respect. "Shall we go leaderless or accept you as our lord and master?" Matarek's eyes flashed with distrust.
The Shadow was truly taken aback as he scanned the ranks of the elders of the nephilim. He searched for support, but found none. The nephilim's faces were all mirrors of Matarek's, mixed with varying degrees of hatred. The Shadow had heard of their discontent, but he had discounted the stories of impending rebellion. Apparently, this had been a mistake. Perhaps Rakiri at least remained faithful, although this did not seem likely.
"I do not mean to deprive you of your future leader," the shadow said softly, trying to reassure the rebellious nephilim. "Perhaps if she knew what it meant to be human-"
"To be human!" interjected Matarek loudly. "You aren't suggesting we make her a changeling? That would be worse than to follow you alone!"
"Yes, Matarek." The Shadow's voice was soft as silk, cold as ice, and filled with every shred of power he possessed. "That is exactly what I mean. But you are wrong. I make no suggestions. That is what must happen, and so it will come to be, in time." His eyes glinted with warning momentarily.
Matarek made as if to leave, and the rest of the council moved to follow him, but the Shadow held up his hand.
"Do not turn you backs on me Matarek, Elders. I will always command you, with or without a leader." The Shadows eyes were filled suddenly with a flickering light that had nothing to do with the fading lights of the night's sky.
"We will be commanded by no one!" hissed Matarek over his shoulder as he continued.
"Then you leave me with no choice but to punish you for your arrogance," replied the Shadow with a note of regret in his voice.
"Punish us? How?" Matarek sneered as he turned, laughing openly. "We are your army. You can do nothing to us." He turned and strode away, the rest of the nephilim following behind.
"So be it." whispered the Shadow. And the Great War began. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------- Here is the little commentary for all the people who get bored at the beginning of the chapter. There will always be one, but you don't have to read it to understand the story. In fact, it leaves out a lot of crucial information.
Basically what happens here is that the Shadow gets mad at the Elders of the nephilim and so they walk away. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------
