Tears of Merdian

By: Heyvid21

Disclaimer: I do not own W.I.T.C.H. or any of its associated characters. Perhaps someday, I can come up with a world as creative as this one.

Author's notes: This is my first story submitted here to the Fanfiction forums, although I do have a slight hobby of writing. It follows strictly to the cannon of WITCH Comics. The setting is a few weeks after episode 46, following the defeat of Phobos. It do apologize if it seems to start off a bit slowly, but I am a firm believer in the fact that one should first set the stage before diving in.

CHAPTER 1

Prelude

Phobos continued to fall through clouds and nothingness. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. One stuck in a perpetual freefall never really slept. It was impossible to simply lay down and escape the madness. The only relief came when he would pass out from exaustion, and even then, his dreams were plagued with thoughts of falling and the voices of his enemies mocking him.

Angrily, he remembered again the events that had sentanced him to this existance. Once he was a proud prince of a world that bowed to his wishes. His mighty magics kept all those who opposed them in their place. With a glance or a gesture, his court of whisperers would dispatch of anyone who did not please him. He had dreams and abitions. Why should he not be the one to rule the cosmos? If not he, then who else was worthy?

As his memories continued thoughts of his downfall crept into his mind. His sister, Elyon, had returned to Meridian. Aided my the guardians and the rebal leader, she had usurped his throne. This memory made his fists clench and his eyes burn with anger. Here in his hatred he found he could escape the madness of the nothingness rushing past all around him. Desperately, he searched for something to fuel his hatred. Quickly, he recalled his second ascention to power. Even more powerful than before, he had managed to steal the body of one of his would-be captors and had ascended to the the postition of the Oracle of Kandracar. Here, again, he had almost attained his goal. Almost he had been able to be the rule of the cosmos. But also once again the Guardians and his sister had challenged and stopped him.

With these memories, his hatred came to a boiling point. How could he the prince of Meridian, the Oracle of Kandracar, be doomed to eventually die here like this? Stripped of all he once ruled over, here he there was nothing. Nothing he could rule or subjugate. Nothing on which to excercise his power. No, it couldn't be. He would not let it end this way. There must be a way to escape.

Then he noticed something. Something amid all this nothingness of clouds and air. With his rage and anger still burning in his heart he focused on this something as it gradually began to grow. With a start, he realized that he was in fact peering through a small window that seemed the be torn into the air in front of him. With a flash of hope he realized he was looking into the world of Meridian, but as suddenly as his hope had washed away his feelings of hatred the window vanished.

"No!" croaked the shout from his dried lips. His freedom had been so close at hand!

Gradually he began to relax again. This time a smile crept to his face. He had managed to open a portal to Merdian fueled by nothing other than his own hatred. Soon his his smile grew into a full fledged laugh. His diabolical laugh filled the nothingness around him. Yes, soon those that had opposed him would pay dearly for their indescretion.

"I'm coming," he laughed into the wind.

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"I'M COMING," Wic moaned into his pillow.

He heard his mother calling from the foot of the stairs again, "You're alarm went off ten minutes ago. You're going to be late again."

Gradually, Wic Wislow managed to drag his bare feet over the edge of his bed and place them on the cool wooden floor. He hated this part of the day more than anything else. As he groggily pulled on some clothes and stumbled toward the bathroom he briefly wondered why he couldnt be more of a morning person instead of the night owl he was. A furtive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, then again, if he was a morning person he wouldn't have the fun that came with staying up late.

The grin on Wic's face vanished as he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He let out a brief sigh as he tried to tame the mess of sandy-blonde locks atop his head. His mother had been hinting that Wic should cut his hair soon, but he usually just shrugged it off. He liked his hair as it was, usually slightly messy and just long enough to fall into his eyes now and again. He almost felt like he could hide behind it when he wanted to, the locks giving him a sense of security.

Another look in the mirror showed that the tangled mess was now more under control. Wic took a long hard look at the person looking back at him from the mirror. The deep blue eyes stared back into his. Wic didn't consider himself attractive, but at the same time he didn't think himself ugly either. On the other hand, who was he to judge these things? He doubted whether anyone was ever truly happy with the way they saw themselves.

Finally, as if satisfied, he took the pendant that dangled from his neck and tucked it under his shirt. The pendant might seem a strange thing for a boy to wear, but there was nothing that Wic treasured more. It was a small crystal, no bigger than his thumnail clasped to the chain it hung from by two miniature, clawed hands. One hand was a pure silver, while the other was a shade of the darkest black. The crystal itself, Wic often thought, resembled a tear.

His mother never told him how he came to have it. He remembered asking her about it a few times when he was younger. Her face had grown happy and sad at the same time as she explained that it was a very precious gift, and that his father, when he was alive, had paid a high price in order that Wic could have it.

His mom often got very sad when they spoke of his father. Wic had never really known him. His mother explained that he died in an accident when Wic was still very little. He thought it strange that there were never any pictures of his father, but he didn't like to see his mom sad, so he rarely brought up the subject.

After he finished in the bathroom he ran down the stairs headed to the kitchen. Ack, no time for that, he though as he passed the clock hanging over the stairs. It was already later than he thought it was. He raced into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of toast out of the toaster on his way to grab his backpack against the wall.

"No time for breakfast, Mom," he said around the mouthful of toast, "I'm going to have to run to make it on time."

"If you got up when your alarm went off you wouldn't have to be in such a hurry," she chided lovingly as she kissed him on the cheek, "Have fun with your friends today."

Friends, Wic thought briefly. It wasn' that he didn't have friends. He knew several people he could talk to and hang out with at school, but he was still very much of a loner. Matt, the person he considered to be closest to, now had a girlfriend and time spent with Wic was much less frequent. Once again, Wic felt somehow that it wasn't here in Hetherfield that he belonged. Strangely, his heart yearned for something more.

As usual, he shrugged off the feeling as he left the small home behind him. As long as he could remember he had lived here in Hetherfield with his mother. Although he knew that she had not lived in this town her whole life, she never really talked about where they had been before moving here. If Wic ever asked, she would simply smile, give an evasive answer and subtley change the subject. It didn't bother Wic, but it often piqued his curiosity and he wondered what they didn't want him to know. But that, like his pendant remained a mystery.

He was shaken from his thoughts as he saw a group of girls join the sidewalk a few feet in front of him. Wic recognized them as his schoolmates from Sheffield Institute. Will Vandom, Irma Lair, Taranee Cook, Cornelia Hale, and Hay Lin, better known as the inseperable five, were talking happily to one another as they walked. Their words drifted back to Wic as he followed.

"But it's her birthday," Cornelia was saying in a slightly imperial voice, "we have to go see her."

"Oh right," retorted Irma, "We'll just dissapear for an evening to celebrate the birthday of someone who isn't even supposed to exist anymore. That'll go over great when we get back."

"Knock it off, Irma," Cornelia replied. Wic could tell that her quick temper was beginning to rise, "You know you want to see her too."

"I do too," Hay Lin interjected, "Will, we could go just for the evening. We could even use the Breath of Time."

The Breath of Time? Wic thought, wondering what they could be talking about.

Will Vandom paused before replying, "You're right. We all want to see her, but lets not use the Breath unless we have to. Try to come up with an excuse for going out tonite."

"Oh thank you, Will," Cornelia said happily, "Then it's settled we leave for Meridian after school."

Meridian. Wic stopped dead in his tracks as he heard the word. Why did he feel like it meant something to him? Something inside of him leaped up at the mention of that single word, like it was crying out in answer to it. For an instant the restlessness inside of him seemed to calm itself, almost as if the place that the girls spoke of was what fueled it.

Meridian...Meridian. He said the name over and over again in his mind. The more he thought of it, the more something within him seemed to answer that call. What did it mean?

He was jarred from his thoughts as a rough arm threw itself his neck while another hand ruffled his hair. Wic looked up to see his friend Matt Olsen smiling at him.

"Wow," Matt laughed, "You didn't even hear me coming. Usually you can spot me sneaking up on you a mile away," Matt stopped and looked at Wic more intently, "Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost."

Wic managed to nod his head as he recovered from the initial shock, "Yeah, usually I can smell you from a mile away," he joked, "What happened? Did you decide to take a shower today?"

Matt laughed, "Quick wit as always. Come on, I don't think I've introduced you to Will and the others yet."

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The Oracle's eyes flittered open. Something had stirred him from his meditation, and instinctively he knew something was amiss. His meditation with the elements was usually his first hints of warning when some form of wickedness was about to disrupt the the delicate balance of the universe. Breathing deeply he called out to them. The powers of wind, earth, water, and fire were on every world of the universe, and they answered his call. Though he had no direct control over these elements, he could commune with them.

What is it? He asked. What troubles the cosmos?

For a moment he was confused, for the answer did not come from the elements themselves. It came from a different voice. A voice he had not heard for ages. A voice he had hoped he would not have to hear ever again. Yet now, it spoke to him.

The Oracle's eyes opened wide in surprise and perhaps something else. Perhaps fear.