Key Notes and Author's Fairest Warning:

The inspiration to write for these scenes is wildly unreliable. 71 pages of this story are written out, in longhand and shorthand alike. But it's in a constant state of revision on my flashdrive, and this story deals with emotions and events that take a rather particular mindset for someone like myself to enter into.

The chronology of this story lies somewhere 6 or 7 years after Unforeseen and Unforesaken.

There will be mature content and adult themes, although I will always handle them as delicately as possible. Nothing explicit will happen on the pages... but it will be implied. In the best... and worst of ways.

Also, let it be known that this particular story acts as a rewritten version of the events I had previously named so vaguely "Srentha!", pt I and II. After careful consideration and random inspiration spearheading this re-writing along, I've decided to publish them under a unified title after all.

Oh, and in case you're wondering? Yes, it really will focus on an OCxOC pairing. I don't know what other fandoms have already laid claim to "secretshipping", but it's a label I developed for them myself, years ago, no other name feels quite right, and it's already used in perhaps seven fandoms anyways. What's one more pairing going to hurt?

Read and review,
Raven's secret-keeper

Prologue

Six years ago...

A young boy, about age 13 or 14, peered around the golden buildings. His wild cerulean-silver hair stood out amazingly against the golden streets of Azarath; he nearly tripped on his snow-white robe as he focused his crystal-blue eyes upon her.

She was walking down the deserted street with her head bowed. Because she had pulled up her hood, he couldn't tell if she was ashamed, depressed, or embarrassed. But he knew something was wrong; no one, or at least almost no one, ever went down this street, and certainly never alone.

"She knows where it leads to, right?" he asked himself quietly as he followed her, stealthily, carefully to not let her see him.

He wanted to call out, and guide her, WARN her, but she had told him many times that Raven shouldn't be startled, and they were so similar… Besides, if he called out, someone might hear him and find out they were here. And that would be terrible. Because nobody was ever supposed to know she was here.

She glanced down a tributary hallway and hesitated.

Just as I thought. Surely she can't be heading – okay, so she is.

She turned left into the temple and pulled down her hood.

He nearly ran into a statue and navigated the prayer columns until he was able to see her face. She was almost in tears, and the sadness, the fear glistening in her eyes was spectacularly deep.

What's getting into her? he wondered desperately as she headed deeper into the temple. She knows the rule… There's no going back- Well, coming back… He desperately wanted to comfort her, and then ask what's wrong and let her listen and make sure she didn't pass away crying. But he wasn't even supposed to be here; he was supposed to be in the temple, yes, but with all the rest of the Azaratheans gathered at Azar's tomb, not following her in these halls, and if he made any noise, they might be discovered. The lecturing, he could handle. But nobody was supposed to know about her…

Who would be here? Who could know? He ridiculed himself, realizing that the guards and priests weren't even there. Wait… okay, that's not normal… Then again, what today is?

Everyone was gathered in Azar's tomb. And he was supposed to be with them. But he hated waiting. And waiting with them would only sting, anyways; they had rejected his pleas to be part of the ceremony, and she was much more important to him than waiting uselessly in an ambling crowd.

And his eternally-scattered thoughts reverted right back to the girl. Oh, come on! What in Azar's name do you think you're doing? You told me just last passing that nothing would make you want to leave home!

He was really, desperately hoping that she wasn't serious. She wasn't going to do this, she was heading for some other destination and she had just taken a wrong turn.

But this hall led to nowhere except the door at the end of their world.

Come on! Be sensible! You know the stories. Remember how Juris- He sighed to himself. There were about a million differences between that situation and this.

She's exploring, he hoped. This is her last chance to see anything. And her mother wanted her to-

His small spark of hope was extinguished when she came to the closed threshold of the Forbidden Door.

No, no, no! How could you? Come on, no!

Then she muttered something that caused his confusion and nervous frustration to melt away.

"Goodbye, Azarath…"

…So… she really WAS leaving…

But why didn't she come to say goodbye? To him?

They'd been far too close for far too long to let him doubt her loyalty. But if she didn't even want to talk to him… Something must be wrong. Very, VERY wrong...

He rested his hand on the corner of the wall, steadying himself as he settled his plan right there. He had to follow her. He couldn't understand why she was leaving, and he had to find out...

She pulled open the door revealing an infinite space, host to infinite worlds, infinite possibilities. She chanted a few inaudible words, her voice hardly more than the barest, most desolate whisper, and then she stepped through the doorway and in a flash of white, she vanished, the door still hanging itself open and leaving him to stare, wide-eyed, both fascinated and awed...

And he held his breath, his last chance of hope that she would change her mind... But she didn't.

That flash of light was final.

Had she been banished? No, she couldn't have been. No one even knew she existed! But why else would she leave like this?

He pondered for longer than he should have, puzzling over HOW to follow her, with his mind slipping down every mental slope there was in such rushed confusion and chaos and promised prophecy and spiraled back to her and her possible motives, before he remembered a transdimensional tracing spell that would lead the door to take him exactly where she'd gone. He stepped out of his hiding place, summoned all of his knowledge, and stepped through that ornate threshold, too eager to hold his breath.

A tunnel of swirling energies surrounded him. It seemed like he was being carried through water. Glowing, swirling, rapidly-running, periwinkle water.

It fascinated him. He had never traveled the dimensions before. He was trained to know how, but he completely lacked experience. He was too young to practice, they told him. Just like they always did.

He tried to focus on his destination – follow her. His best and only childhood friend. Focus was the most important part of ensuring accuracy, after all. But then he realized that he had just betrayed everything he had ever known. But he had to follow her – today's events didn't matter. Without her, he'd feel so… well, just so. So everything. Dying would be in vain if he knew she wasn't dying safely in the arms of her mother.

His heart was torn in that instant: her or his home?

Oh, I'm so stupid-! But it's too late, I can't go back. Oh Azar… Guess that narrows down the options…

Within a few moments, he felt the strange and indescribable sensation that he knew was being torn between time and space as he entered another continuum entirely. An almost unworldly sound erupted around him as he pierced the dimensional barrier and a flash of pure-existence cosmic-shudder-inducing white light flared up.

He felt the ground beneath his feet. He ended up crouching and looked around as his vision cleared.

And then he stood up on Earth.

The tunnel had been replaced by the grayness of a world called Earth five minutes ago. And he was still held frozen in shock and awe. He was finding it hard to adjust himself to the dull buildings, especially after the brilliance of the temple and the waterfall of light. A glance around revealed only one sun in the sky... Was that why it felt so dark?

Strange scents filled his nostrils. He suddenly felt the pressure of displacement crushing him. And it readily occurred to him that this place wasn't at all like Azarath.

Oh, this is bad, I can't believe I did that – Wait, yes I can. I followed her. But why would she choose Earth, of all places? And why THIS Earth- …Hey, where is she?

He looked around more carefully.

Not much to see in his dark alley... Guess I still have a bit to learn.

He walked forward and turned left until he emerged from between the two buildings. He felt a bit of relief once he was out of the darkness, but it wasn't the warm, peaceful, almost glowing feeling he now realized he had felt in Azarath. In fact, it was nowhere close. He couldn't sense the magic in these people and the rush indicated many not-so-pacifist energies – magicless and chaotic, both reasons to feel uncomfortable for the young sorcerer.

He sighed and scanned the new world, quickly becoming acquainted with exactly how different these streets were. Everything was so symmetrical, so close together. He remembered what Arella had told him about this other-dimensional world… Being the high magistrate's grandson, he was able to talk directly to her while she was on temple duty. Earth was very different and not nearly as peaceful, she told him, and now he knew exactly what she had meant. Despite the unpleasantness, she was always so loyal to this world… Upon this glimpse of their lifestyle, he couldn't begin to imagine why.

As he walked on, the noise of giant mechanical carriages sort of startled him as they rushed past. The wind in their wake was familiar, from when a flock of birds would fly past his head, but as for the appeal of being inside those big hard things, he couldn't begin to guess. Azarath was far too small to need any more than two feet to get around.

Even amidst all the auditory chaos, he heard a gentle burbling "coo-cooo" noise. It was vaguely familiar, but lower and softer than he was used to. He looked around hopefully, and when he heard it again he found where it came from, with a sinking heart. It was a bird that resembled a dove in body shape, but it was too big and far too colorful to be the species he hoped.

Of course not. They weren't bred on Earth…

Then he heard another creature howl and the bird fluttered away. Not knowing what else to do, he continued on.

As he walked, he became aware of odd glances the people on the sidewalks were giving him. Once more, a wave of displacement and regret fell upon him. As he looked back at the other people on the streets, he realized that they were staring at his appearance, not his energy. Most of the source of wonder seemed to be his mass of hair and his robes; they were staring anywhere but his face. The things some shouted were words he didn't understand... but their tones got the message through clear enough.

He meandered the city streets until he eventually found an area of green fields and open skies. People sitting under the trees still stared – since he had been here, who didn't? He walked by a group of girls and one of them whispered to the others, and they giggled, before pointing his way and speaking inaudibly.

"Oh, where are you?" he whispered desperately, none too fond of this sense of rejection. His pure white robes, near-albino skin, his untamed silvery-blue hair, and his vividly blue eyes, he began to understand, were weird, abnormal, strange, ridiculous things here. It confused him; on Azarath, they were the signs of his potential, his connections to their sacred life-force, and thus they were nearly praised.

He continued to wander the grassy area for quite awhile. Spotting a bench with nobody else on it, he sat down to rest, and try to think of how he could manage to find her… but he was distracted when his stomach gurgled, and he put his head in his hands. He hadn't eaten since a couple of hours before he left his home, and that was a long while ago. He looked to the sky, but then remembered where he was – not Azarath. So he couldn't gauge his location. Or the time. Or how far he'd wandered, when she might have been travelling in the opposite direction this whole time.

He began rubbing his sore legs with a heavy sigh.

I can't believe this... I left the place of any mage's dreams to follow her, and I can't even find her.

He looked at his hands, and the petal-dye staining them, wondering if he knew anything that could help him.

I know the spell, but it's far too advanced…

He blinked miserably and closed his eyes. If only they'd ever let him PRACTICE...

Well, what's done is done… and I need to find some food.

The boy sighed and hung his head before getting up. All I need to do is figure out how. He began walking without destination once more and headed away from the green and back into the city.

His stomach growled again and he looked skyward with a slight moan. How long have I been here? He looked around at the buildings surrounding him. They're all so dull… And the sky... Is it always this color? Looks like my eyes. Sky-blue eyes. Didn't someone at the grassy place call my eyes that? Hey, whoa, focus here. Food, food, I need to find food…

He walked a little bit more, then he saw something glinting in the sun and jogged to it. Curiosity overwhelmed him as he looked at the strange copper object. He flipped the circle over in his fingers and fingered the grooved edges. There was a man's head engraved on the surface and a columned building on the other side. He shrugged and decided to carry it around. Maybe he could watch other people and figure out what it was for.

He couldn't help noticing that there were a few places that smelled like food, but everyone had to trade paper money to get the things they needed. In Azarath, they never had much use for money…

Even as sharp-eyed as he was, he couldn't find any of the green paper around, and he gave up a lot faster than he usually did – everything that was happening was starting to fray his nerves…

He was so distracted he nearly tripped on someone sitting in the corner, with glasses and a blanket.

"Oh, ah, s-sorry," he stammered awkwardly, barely avoiding speaking in Azarathean.

"It's fine," the man replied.

The boy nodded. He cocked his head thoughtfully, but figuring out why this person had a cup, ragged clothes, and was just sitting here was out of his abilities.

The man picked up the cup and asked, "Do you have any spare change?"

The boy peered in and saw a few more of the circles he found on the ground inside it, only some were a silvery color and there were different sizes. Putting two and two together, he dropped the circle into the cup. "Just this one… It didn't change for me, though."

"Oh, that's alright. They don't change for none of us. God bless!"

"Heh heh, bless you… too…" He was baffled by things becoming spiritual all of a sudden.

"Have a nice day."

"Um, you too." He had noticed people all over exchanging these phrases as a way of farewell greetings and left, a hint of confusion showing on his face.

But curiosity soon overwhelmed it. As he began looking at the people individually, he noticed how varied they were. There was plenty of variety in Azarath, but nothing wild like this. The outfits were a million different colors, many people were adorned with body jewelry (but they didn't seem to be tribal priests?), and he saw a couple of people with possibly the craziest hairstyles he had ever seen (which made them seem like colorful living artpieces or something).

The pigeons were constantly underfoot and the distraction was starting to get annoying. Sure, the doves back home would walk on the streets sometimes, but they spent most of their time perched on the buildings.

And despite how intriguing everything here was, a quiet grunt of frustration escaped his throat. With all his magical experience, he should have been able to find her with a thought. Tracking spells were so easy, but without practice he just didn't know what to track; once he crossed the threshold, all he had to go on was hope and perseverance. Both of which were wearing thin already. And to get an average Azarathean upset, especially him, known as the bright-eyed overenthusiastic student, conduit of Azar's life-giving magic, was an incredibly difficult task.

He wandered aimlessly for a long time before he realized that it was growing dark. With a heavy sigh of grief more than frustration, he realized that he'd have to put his search for his friend on hold and find a place to sleep. No use wandering around when he was stumbling and yawning half the time anyways… He decided on the patch of grass he'd seen a few moments (or maybe minutes or hours; it felt like days) ago. He backtracked until he found it - by then the sky was darkening to purple, and then he lay down in the grass. It wasn't exactly perfect, but it was isolated, dark, and quiet.

He stayed there silently for a while, giving time for emotions to creep up on him and the curiosity to fade to gray desolation... feeling horribly guilty and missing Azarath with all his heart. He closed his eyes; he hadn't been able to find any food and his stomach ached with hunger. He was incredibly lost, mentally and physically. There were no spellbooks to search, no ancient scrolls to consult, and without the essence of magic that was constantly lingering anywhere in his homeland, he just felt so lost, so empty... This world was loud, unwelcoming, overall unpleasant. And it felt utterly abrasive to his own pacifist mind.

No doubt about it. This was definitely the worst mistake he had ever made. He had always been curious and impulsive, loyal and adventurous, and they had always scolded him for it… When he was younger, nothing BAD ever happened. Nothing irreversible, at least... but THIS… Traveling transdimensionally was POWERFUL magic. Without the Door's help, could he ever get home…? Why had he chosen to chase his friend, when he wasn't strong enough to TRACK her…? And even if he was, could his heart handle another day of constant exertion?

…It would HAVE to. She was the only thing that kept his days alive. She was the reason he looked forward to new moments rather than fearing how others would interpret his reaction, she encouraged his sense of purpose, and she never told him to stop being himself… She was like the sister his father never wanted, and she was his one and only childhood friend. He NEEDED her.

His gaze returned to the unfamiliar sky, filled with hope and determination. And immediately he found himself stargazing, enraptured... but they were all one color, little sparkles of white against a solid dark plane. They were new to him, so of course they stirred up his inevitable fascination! …but these distant cosmic lights couldn't hold a candle to the splendor of Azarath's skies…

…And again, his heart grew heavy with aching for his home, his magic, his LIFE… In two steps, everything was GONE!

His eyes locked closed at the thought, tightened He closed his eyes, tighter, and did something he almost never had reason to do. He was crying.

The tears that slipped from his eyes were hot, stinging his eyes, and he buried his head, unruly hair and all, in his arms and pulled the robe's hood over his face. He held his training clothes especially close, suddenly terrified that they were all he'd ever have left of his home… and thanking Azar that at least he kept its pockets full of random herbs and gems of power. At least he would never be without the magic.

And he exhaled shakily, trying to let it comfort him... his mystic soul still subconsciously reaching out for the laylines of power that simply didn't exist on this dimensional plane. And it was from this frightened huddle, desperate clinging, and helpless crying, that he fell asleep feeling more lonely and lost than he'd ever been.

It even chased him into his dreams. All he would remember the next morning would be finding one of those tiny, white stars - a fantastic SHOOTING star!

It soared across the sky and he ran to follow it, eyes wide with wonder. What a strange and beautiful thing, for stars to move and scatter away from vivid colors like this. Where was it taking him? Enthralled, he followed forth.

But it only led him on and on through the emptiness, and the dream faded juuuust when he stood face to face with it, and thought he could cup his hands around its light…

When his mind roused to consciousness, it was painfully bright. He closed his eyes tighter and shifted his position. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and looked around with a yawn –

A yelp escaped him as he saw a large dog watching him. And it didn't look too happy with its head lowered and teeth bared. The dog flattened it ears farther against its head and growled deeply, a sure threat and sign of oncoming aggression.

What in-? He couldn't help thinking a prayer as he bolted up and stumbled back. "Easy," he mumbled in hopes of calming it down.

It only took a step towards him and let out a deep, threatening bark.

"Hey, it's–"

The dog lunged at him and he screamed and dodged it. Azaratheans weren't exactly trained warriors, but he had honed reflexes from catching so many falling containers and blocking his eyes against sudden blinding flashes. "Calm down! Please? I'm not going to hurt you - !" It ran at him and he barely managed to evade it. This time it didn't stop and turned and ran straight at him.

That was when he took to the labyrinthine alleys.

He tried remembering what his friend had told him whenever there was a problem with animals, but all he recalled was her holding a dove and stroking its back as she mumbled comforts to it, patiently waiting for the frightened bird to calm down.

"Something tells me that won't work," he muttered as he turned into another street. The dog was getting closer. He turned again and turned around a building; the dog turned too and he could hear it sniffing.

"Oh, Azar help me," he mumbled in breathless desperation-

Then he grit his teeth at a sudden eruption of spasming, dull pain in his chest. No, not now! he pleaded - this was the worst possible time for his heart to act up! But his breaths felt heavy, they hurt, and he clasped his hands over it, weakness making his feet heavy and he tripped over his robe and collapsed; he rolled to his knees around a building and frantically tried to draw up his energies - but Azarathean energy didn't flow on Earth! He couldn't find it to DRAW from!

"Azar's breath," he gasped for health, stumbling into another run and holding his hands over the sheet of gemstone set in his special chestplate, tapping its emergency supply of healing energy and working the spells his tutors had taught him from a very young age. Ever since that night - with his friend, surprise surprise…

His eye wide and his back bristled, he froze - the dog was so close - !

Again he veered past a building, closed his eyes and took the moment to regain his breath - and more importantly check that the spells had worked. His heart still fluttered erratically - but it was light, airy. The pressure was gone.

…but the dog wasn't!

An idea flashed through his mind, but he shook his head at it.

Then the dog stepped closer. He couldn't run forever.

"Please forgive me," he whispered. He knew he wasn't supposed to do this and he wasn't supposed to care about risking death if avoiding it disrupted the inner pacifism, but that's one of the things that set him from the others in Azarath. He actually valued his life over peace. (And wouldn't it be terrible if the last threads of Azarathean silk ever were stained with blood?)

Still, he was nervous. This could turn deadly if he didn't do it.

Stop hesitating!

He tapped into the stored magic again and apologized yet again to Azar for wasting her gift on a stupid mistake. But he really didn't want to die.

He closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath before he muttered a spell as he waved his arms in a short yet intricate pattern around himself, shoulder to waist. For a moment he was encased in a blue-gold iridescent glow as his skin chilled with goosebumps of power and coolness, and it glittered away into nonexistence. He looked at his hands... and sighed. He couldn't see himself. He couldn't hear his breaths. Even his shadow had fled from awareness.

He was incredibly nervous; he knew he was not supposed to do that. He had deliberately disobeyed the primary rules about the Gift. But-

A soft growl from the dog brought him back to reality. He bit his lip and stepped softly away. Turned down three larger streets, just to be safe... And the next time he glanced back, the dog wasn't there. Had he escaped-? So it seemed, but he couldn't stay there and find out; he wasn't terribly powerful nor experienced, and the magical cloak of camouflage would wear off very soon without any familiar ambient energies to power it. He still took care to make as little noise as possible, and he prayed that the frightened thuds in his chest weren't nearly as loud as they felt...

Fortunately, he had a lot of experience with stealth from sneaking off with his friend so many times and sneaking into the libraries, and the dog didn't notice him as he crept further behind the buildings and into yet another alley. Just to be sure, he turned whenever the opportunity presented itself, and he couldn't help glancing over his shoulder every so often.

After a few more turns, he felt the small tingling sensation and looked at his hand. Multi-spectrum rainbows darted across his aura, like light through the right cut of quartz. And when they faded away, his physical form was visible once again, and the sunlight now reaching his skin felt so warm and pleasant, he couldn't help the ragged smile, and sigh of relief.

Well, he'd survived the dog, but the relief didn't last long. He sat down on a dismantled box to catch his breath. It's far too early for this… His exhaustion was only made worse by the fact that he hadn't slept very well last night... Definitely not for the first time and probably not the last, he mentally scolded and berated himself for even leaving. Why why why? I should've just called out and asked her where she was going. I still don't have enough power to follow her exactly… Azar, why did I leave? Why did I have to be sneaky about it and – she wouldn't have even cared if I startled her! And it's not like it would have mattered… No one else was there. The whole place was empty! Except for Azar's tomb… But –

An amazingly familiar coo startled him out of his desolations. "Mmh-?" It wasn't a pigeon, that was actually a dove! He jumped up and looked around for all he was worth. Then he saw the bird perched on top of the building. "Yanehra!" The bird had been his friend since he put the spell of intelligence on him and the girl's companion; the girl had found the dove playing with her own and he had charmed the two doves in his eagerness to show her his new knowledge. That spell was now old and simple to him, but at the time it had seemed amazing.

"Thank Azar – how did you…?" The dove flew down and landed on his head. Of all places... Birds were so weird. "Why are you here?" The bird cocked its head at his voice. "I think a change of name is appropriate… How's Survivor?" The dove nestled itself into his hair, then the boy put his finger under the bird's breast and the clawed toes stepped gingerly onto it.

"Survivor it is, then." He brought his arm down and began stroking the bird's back. "I wonder how you made it… Did you follow me?"

The dove blinked.

"Alright… Hey, I'm not mad at you!" A hint of laughter trickled into his voice, then he sighed. "It's nice to see something familiar around here… I haven't been able to do much besides walk and save myself from an angry dog." He put his finger against his shoulder and the bird stepped onto it. "You look content… Stopping by the bird feeders, I see?"

The dove turned around and settled into a satisfied position.

"If only they had those for people… I wonder if they do… only more private. Everyone stares at me."

The newly-named Survivor tilted his head.

"Yeah, you always listen, don't you? I'm glad someone does." The dove's blink seemed almost inquisitive – being charmed, it was a distinct possibility. "There's just no one else to talk to. I've been alone for a lot longer than I've ever been, and I'm so lost that I don't know if I'll ever be unlost."

The dove watched him for a moment more before repositioning himself and cooing.

The boy winced. "Not so close to my ear, 'Vivor."

The bird looked at his face before fluttering onto his head again and sending out more "coo-coo-oo-oo"s.

"What are you looking for?"

The bird turned around and let out another call before shifting his wings, showing the golden feathers on his tail.

"The other dove?"

The bird head-bobbed before turning again and cooing.

Being a male, the calls were louder and would carry farther than if Survivor was female, but the boy had a feeling that it was still a futile attempt. "You know you're not going to find them, right?" The dove ignored him. "Oh, shut up already…" His relief was wearing away and being replaced by grief for the fact that he had lost his friend, and she, probably along with her own companion dove, would be far out of the range that his powers could detect, even if he used the most powerful spell he knew. The dove didn't seem to care if it was useless and just kept on cooing.

The boy sighed before walking on, this time with a noisy bird on his head.

If they thought I was weird before…

He couldn't help smiling in spite of himself. Maybe this isn't as bad as I thought…

But then his stomach reminded him of the gnawing emptiness with a strong growl, and he sighed. Or maybe not.

The two walked on and on for what seemed like an eternity. Eventually the dove's coos faltered and soon they stopped completely; it seemed the boy wasn't the only one losing hope.

"You think maybe they went back...?" He sighed softly. The dove shifted his feet and looked around. "Maybe they're just... Oh, who am I kidding? They're not here. If they were, I'd sense her presence." The dove made a small, hardly audible sound and then began grooming himself.

The boy glanced up at him, then raised an eyebrow. "Guess you don't really care about your soon-to-be mate?" The dove poked its head around his hair and eyed the boy curiously. "You know..." The dove blinked and clicked his beak. The boy chuckled. It was nice to be able to have a bit of fun, even in such a desperate situation. "It's a shame you two could never truly get together... Maybe we can all be together when we find them - if..."

The boy felt another particularly sharp hunger pain – then suddenly let loose a note of laughter when an idea struck him like lightning. "Why didn't I think of it before?" He sat down before closing his eyes - the dove watched him in fascination; he could sense the magical force growing as the boy chanted a few words and swallowed, then mumbled a few extra phrases and opened his eyes.

Nothing shifted like it was supposed to. And nothing definitely glowed.

"It didn't work..." He stood up and bowed his head dejectedly. Glancing up at the bird, he noticed a quizzical glint in the amber eyes as if they were wondering, 'what in Azar's name was the point of that?' "I don't know why I tried that... I can do transformations with the Azarathean materials, but I'm not strong enough to just pull food out of mid-air. Coman said it would take at least two more years of solid practice -"

Another idea flew through his mind so swiftly that he almost forgot it. "What if they did go back to Azarath? But if they didn't, at least I won't starve..." Praying to dear sweet Azar that he did have some of that special ingredient, he dug through the folds of his robes that formed pockets for his many items of power. "Petals, liquids, oils, no, where did I throw the powders...? Ah!"

Overjoyed at his first victory over fate in two days, he pulled the small bottle of the grainy and glittering blue-white powder and uncorked it. Survivor shifted in confusion, then saw the powder in the boy's hands and understood what was going on...

"We're going back to Azarath."

The boy pushed the open boxes out of the way and sat down before pouring an unsmooth circle of the substance around himself and putting the small bottle back. Then, he inhaled to focus his mind on the image of his home and roused the magical energies that lived within him. Warmth, peace, completion and utter fulfillment as he lived up to his role in the Azarathean society: skilled and exuberant practitioner of Azar's own power.

He expelled the breath, then tried to expunge his nerves and excitement. "Asaren... yano... seostra." He could already feel his mind taken up in the tide of energy and felt it washing away nerves and excitement, cleansing his heart to a state of pure peaceful perfection. He closed his eyes with an elated smile, and chanted the words of a spell for dimensional travel that all of Azarath had known the secrets to for their entire millennium of existence: "Acarazom racashaz endre, vacarix endrien... Azarath, Azarath! Azarath!"

Sparks of energy flickered up from the circle, then a swirling vortex of spiraling white and bright blue colors opened beneath his body. The last few words came out as a near yell, and the boy felt himself being taken into the portal and the dove braced himself - instincts told him to fly away as fast as his wings could flap, but the charmed part of his conscious held to his bond with the boy, so he stayed put and gripped the boy's hair as tightly as his toes would allow.

They were pulled into a waterfall of the swirling colors shifting through the dimensions like a kaleidoscope, and the boy couldn't help noticing that it seemed duller than it was on his first journey through this portal - He forced that from his mind and focused on arriving in his homeland instead of some other dimension, and Azar knows where he could end up if that happened.

After a few moments of eager anticipation, there was a blinding flash of white light. Once he felt the familiar ground beneath his ready feet, the boy stood up.

Blinked himself to see, eyes adjusting (why was it so dark here?), vision clearing-

And his eyes widened and his brow furrowed as his heart plunged into his gut.

What he saw was a visage of devastation.

He collapsed, shaking, to his knees and blinked, shocked, too weak to stand; he ran a hand through his hair, hardly able to comprehend it. Instead of the golden streets he remembered, there was nothing but ashes and ruins. Instead of the once-sweet air filled with a scent of gossamer, there was a strangely thick atmosphere filled with a lingering smell of sulfur so strong it made him dizzy.

"Great Azar. No…" What exactly happened here…?I knew it was supposed to be bad, but… Is this what everyone knew was going to happen? Why didn't…

He swallowed, still blinking in shock – and now to clear the ashes his collapse had stirred in the air. This must be why she left… she was fleeing Azarath's destruction. She sensed it. I know she did. She always sensed disaster… and with Scryer's blood…

His unsteady thoughts wobbled to an uncharacteristic halt.

Losing Azarath hurt. No longer having a home left him uncertain.

But remembering her loss left him more devastated than this Hell manifested.

The dove fluttered down and landed on the blackened ground. He tapped his feet a few times, then flew back onto the boy's hair.

The boy's eyes followed the bird numbly as he did this, then his senses slowly returned to him. "What's wrong?" His voice was weak and his breath shaky. He put his finger in front of the dove and Survivor stepped onto it. Wondering why the dove seemed tense, he put his hand on the ground to feel… and radiating heat flowed into his hand, uncomfortably quickly, hot as hellfire.

He pulled it back, cradled it against his chest. Looking farther ahead, he saw a river of molten lava flowing over the destroyed remains of the once glorious land. His home. Gone. He stood up and couldn't help wondering if anything had survived the destruction.

"Well…" He chuckled nervously. "I guess Raven showed up yesterday… huh?" The bird didn't seem to be listening. "They told me this would happen… mmm… Oh. Why didn't she tell me she was – she probably knew there wasn't time… I think she – I- We might've left right before it happened." He looked around and sighed. "I don't know what to do…"

The dove looked up at his face. The boy wasn't surprised to see a confused hurt in the dove's amber-gold and black eyes.

"Azarath's gone, Survivor. We're probably the only ones left, besides them…" The bird knew exactly who he meant and looked around again. "I wonder where Raven went..."

Survivor either didn't hear him or didn't care as he stared off into the distance.

"Should we go back to Earth and -?" The bird fluffed up his feathers. "You didn't like it there. Okay. Me too… I probably need a lot of time to practice before I try to find her anyway. And more nexus crystals..." The dove's appearance smoothed out. "You're going to drive me into insanity with your cooing, aren't you…" The bird cocked his head. The boy shrugged. "At least we won't be so lonely." He smiled awkwardly and the dove settled on his finger. "At least here, it won't be so hard for me to work spells – once I get used to this…" He glanced around uncomfortably.

He had no choice but to get used to it. He had used the last of his crystal-blend powder to get there. The Forbidden Door was destroyed.

And staying in the decimated ruins of Azarath was his only hope of survival now.

That realization drew out a long, heavy, resigned sigh from the depths of his being. And he did the best he could to begin dealing with it. To process it. And, later, planning. Instinct was all he had to latch onto, with his frail but ever-excited heart shocked into numbness... There was no passion to guide him here.

...But there was hunger... and at least solving that problem gave him something to do. Armed with the magic still coursing through him, and somehow still coursing through this world, he reached out - shaking, at first... and then let out another breath as he began brushing the ashes into a pile. At least he had his knowledge to guide him... and he rifled through his robe once again, far less hopefully this time. The silvery liquid was there, of course.

He then crossed his legs to begin the work, slow and steady, adding one drop of silvery liquid at a time as the dove flew off to find sanctuary amongst the embers of the world, guiding the energies he channeled through his hands and thoughts delicately to work the magics for alchemical sustenance.

He would take extra special care to practice well, he decided - with his grandfather gone and his tutors surely dying with all of Azarath, he was his own teacher now. And he soon discovered he would take the greatest care, especially often, to hold his memories close; the routine developed quickly. A little pictogram drawn with ashes against the molten ruins for every memory he had, everything he could recall... They were crude, but they were his, and he reviewed them every day. And he dreamt of the way his life used to be, working from then on to find a way back.