Battle for Mirazis - Book One: Darkness (dundundun)

by Zarkanofthecyclones

Just a dumb fanfiction I wrote when I was a teen. I'm only posting this cause I lost a bet on Facepunch, so if you're interested in reading quality fiction, I would suggest looking elsewhere.

"It is time. It is time that we put the things of the past aside, and usher in a new reign. That is the way of Darkness – no one can stop it, for it does not really exist, but is an absence of something. Every defeat against the Light not only weakens it, but adds to our power and strength. They can push us back, and they can think they have found their place in the world, but we will always return, and then we shall show them the true balance of power. And, mark my words, by the time they have found the face of reality, they shall wish they too were absent from existence."

Prologue

Finalities

Far away from any other civilization, the land of Mirazis rested neatly in the center of a vast, unexplored world. This land was both a tamed paradise and a savage shroud of danger, for, if one were to travel across its entire mass, they would find that it changed constantly as they ventured from east to west and from north to south. A calm, lush valley rested in the center, covered in bright grasses and blue and green leaved trees. A jungle lay to the northwest, and a beautiful sandy peninsula lay to the southwest. But as one moved further away from the peaceful center of Mirazis, the land quickly became harsher and more desolate. Grass turned into dusty plains, dusty plains led into mountains, and beyond the mountains one found twisted, lifeless deserts. And the ocean to the south was perhaps the greatest example of the contrasting climates in Mirazis. Its ever-changing waves went from gentle flows to raging, stormy tsunamis, which no being could ever hope to cross.

But by far, the most incredible feature of Mirazis was not truly in the land at all, but above it. On the top of the highest, northernmost mountain, a great stone fortress stood, surveying the entire land beyond its walls. It was brown and crimson in color, and spanned as tall as it was wide. Hundreds of small windows lined the sides, and four thin towers rose up from each corner. The entire fortress shone brightly in the sun, looking more like a great palace than a building of warfare.

Despite the pleasant architecture of the fortress, the sight of the building looming over the world for hundreds of miles may have appeared to an outsider as a sign that a great tyrannical rule had been thrust over this strange land. But, they would have been wrong, for the armored, majestic beings who lived there were fair, loving rulers. They called themselves the Acolytes, and together they formed a tight brotherhood that had not been broken in 10,000 years. As the rulers of the land filled with beings called Zatoran and Rahi, they had been created by the Great Beings to watch over their world and protect it from any danger.

Today, however, the Acolytes had something different on their minds. Or, at least, one of them did - and that being was Teradus, their leader. He had summoned the entire brotherhood for an emergency meeting, hoping that he would be able to adequately explain the situation that was at hand.

As the Acolytes all filed into a large, plain room and sat down around an exquisite ember table, the chief Acolyte looked sadly at his brothers and sisters. They had been ruling Mirazis for 10,000 years, and yet today it felt as if it had been mere months. His mind wandered into deep thought, which was laced with grief and anger at the reality of what he had gathered his fellow Acolytes together for.

A black and silver Acolyte sitting near Teradus cleared his throat. Realizing that he had been wasting time, the leader of the Acolytes took a deep breath and sighed. His brown-armored figure sagged in his seat, and his eyes were heavy with depression.

"My brothers and sisters," Teradus began, "our time is drawing to a close. The prophecy Yiitridu discovered is coming to pass, and we soon shall be no more."

A thin, pointy Acolyte two seats down sighed in frustration. Her name was Lukamo – and she was known throughout the brotherhood as a fierce warrior with a skeptical mind. "Teradus," she said, "I know I have said this a dozen times already –"

"15, actually," Teradus corrected her.

"All right, 15 times," she replied harshly, twitching her purple and silver armor in annoyance. "The point is that you keep going on and on about the exact same things. This is the third emergency meeting you've called us to, and if my suspicions are correct, it will end just like the first two."

"Perhaps," Teradus replied. "But perhaps not, if you and the others are finally willing to listen."

Lukamo frowned. "What is the point of listening if you have given us no real proof to back up your concerns?" she retorted. "This ancient carving that Yiitridu has studied may supposedly carry a dire prophecy about our future, but he has been wrong in the past with his translations. Besides, that ancient wall text he supposedly deciphered is older than anything we've ever seen before. How can we be sure that he has even given us a good general idea of what was written on it?"

"She has a point, despite the fact that I hate agreeing with Lukamo," a stocky, green and gold Acolyte named Korzik said. "I usually trust Yiitridu's work – he's far better than any of us at translating – but the fact remains that we are dealing with things that may be beyond our skills. You yourself said that this carving was probably created by the Great Beings themselves – and their language is one of the most incomprehensible dialects known to our covenant. We don't even have a clue what some of the symbols in their language actually mean!"

A murmur of agreements rang throughout the chamber. Teradus sighed again, and his body sagged even further into his throne. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, my fellow Acolytes," he said wearily. "I fear that I have no other choice, however."

"No other choice about what?" Lukamo asked angrily.

"No other choice but to tell you the truth," Teradus replied. "And the truth is, that I have not told you everything about this carving. Yiitridu, I believe it is best that you explain."

Yiitridu, a yellow-armored Acolyte holding a round-tipped staff, cleared his throat. "Well, all of you know that I personally translated the carving," he began. "It was a most complicated task, and not one for the faint of heart."

Several of the beings in the room sighed. Being the chief scribe of the Acolytes, Yiitridu possessed many great qualities, but modesty was certainly not one of them.

"What none of you realize," Yiitridu continued, "is that… well… I didn't completely… do the translation on my own. Yes, I had help."

Lukamo laughed coldly. "So, you finally couldn't do a translating job on your own, scholar," she said sarcastically. "Care to tell us all who was your partner?"

"He was my assistant, Lukamo," Yiitridu replied. "And for your information, you were just arguing with him a minute ago."

Lukamo stopped midway through replying. All the other Acolytes looked at Teradus, who smiled sadly. "Yes my friends," he said, "I was the assistant, as hard as it is for Yiitridu to admit it."

Lukamo's face twisted into a snarl. "Is this some kind of joke, Teradus?" she asked angrily. "All of us here know that you are the last being any of us would ask for help in a situation like this. You yourself have admitted countless times that you despise translating – everyone knows you consider writings of the past to be insignificant to the future!"

"Yes, normally I would agree with everything you said, Lukamo," Teradus replied. "However, the reason that I decided to help Yiitridu explains all that and more." Folding his armored hands, Teradus uttered four words that sent a chill through the entire gathering. "I had a dream."

The resulting uproar was more than enough to shake the foundations of the chamber. "Blasphemy!" several of the Acolytes shouted, as they shook their fists in anger. Others were conversing between each other loudly, shocked and angered at what their leader had just said. Only Lukamo was silent, her face completely emotionless. With a great shriek, her pointed staff sent a sonic wave through the entire area, causing everyone in the chamber to quiet down. When all was silent, she began to speak.

"Teradus," she said, "I have known you for thousands of years, argued with you - even saved your life 77 years ago - and yet I can't believe what I'm hearing! Dreams are forsaken in this realm – they are a way for the Darkness to delude us! Do you know what this means? It means that you are now an apostate of the Acolyte ways!"

Teradus sighed again. "Yes, I understand this is true, and I expected that you all would react with scorn. However, I know for sure that this dream was not a trick, nor a misunderstanding."

"And how do you plan to explain this to us?" Korzik asked, his words filled with rage.

"By showing you one simple shard of evidence," Teradus replied. Reaching into his armor, he pulled out a small piece of dull crystal.

"Is that…?" Lukamo gasped, her eyes wide open.

"Yes," Teradus answered. "This is a part of the fabled staff of Xun. You all know the legends about that object of power. It has been hidden away in our vaults for many millenniums, in a chamber which only I have access to. It gives all of us Acolytes our powers – and its dimming is a sign of the end of our covenant. I had suspected this for a while, but I could not bear to open the vault until a few hours ago, where I chipped off a piece of it to bring to you as proof of our coming demise. And, regrettably, I wish that I had acted sooner, for we have lost many valuable days because of my weakness."

No one spoke for a long time. A dreary air hung over the entire chamber, and all of the Acolytes had distraught looks on their faces. Many were still finding it hard to accept what Teradus had explained, but they knew deep down that it was pointless. All of their skepticism, all of their disbelief - it had all been misplaced, and soon they would suffer the consequences, along with all of Mirazis. For, without the Acolytes, the land would decay into complete chaos and anarchy, until it completely and utterly destroyed itself.

Finally, Korzik spoke. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked quietly.

Lukamo slapped the hulking being. "You fool! There is nothing we can do! Without the power of the staff of Xun, we are all doomed! And once we are gone, the land of Mirazis will fall apart!"

"Not necessarily," Teradus interjected. Immediately, all of the Acolytes looked at him like he had grown a second head – something that, while not impossible in Mirazis, was a sign of madness.

"And how exactly do you plan to save our world, Teradus?" Lukamo asked, echoing the feelings of all the other Acolytes.

To the surprise of everyone, Teradus did not even show a hint of annoyance at Lukamo's snide remark. Instead, he folded his hands again and smiled. "Not me, Lukamo," he corrected his sister. "Our successors. I propose that we create new beings to protect Mirazis after our passing."

For the second time that day, the entire room blazed into anger. The Acolytes had always been open to new ideas, but the plan Teradus was suggesting reeked of madness. If they could not survive to continue the rule over the land of Mirazis, then what creation of theirs would be even remotely suitable to take over their role?

"Are you insane?!" Lukamo screamed with all her might. "You propose leaving the world to untrained, unprepared, underpowered amateurs?! It's as if we were to replace an entire mountain with one small hill, or to plant a flower in the place of the tallest tree in Mirazis!"

It was at that point that Teradus's eyes flared into anger for the first time since the meeting had begun. "You fools!" he yelled. "This is the only choice we have, aside from leaving the world to decay! Is that what any of us want? Or would you all rather go down as failures?"

The room quickly calmed down, and the Acolytes looked at their leader nervously. Teradus rarely ever shouted, and when he did, it was a sign that everyone needed to listen to his words.

Finally, Korzik sighed. "He's right. He's completely right," he said. "We must do everything we can to keep Mirazis from dying – that is what the Great Beings would want us to do."

Slowly, all the other Acolytes nodded their heads – even Lukamo. Immediately after, she asked a simple question: "How many?"

"Six," Teradus replied. "One of each element. The mystical energies of the natural world shall be theirs to command, to use, and to protect Mirazis after we are gone."

"Always has great ideas, doesn't he?" an Acolyte named Poitara remarked.

Teradus smiled again. It was a sad smile, one heavy with the grief that they all soon would no longer exist. "More than just an idea, my friends," he said solemnly. "They shall be the last hope for our land, and we must do the best job possible in their creation."

Afterwards, the Acolytes filed out of the hall, ready to sacrifice the last of their energy to create the future guardians of their sacred world. Many of the beings were still uncertain – and others were deeply disturbed. One thing was certain, however: the land of Mirazis would never be the same.

Chapter One

The End of an Age

Far below the Huyaza Mountains, the land of Mirazis was entering into the final season of the year. The normally green and blue leaves of the dirtbark and bristleleave trees were turning a dark purple, signaling the beginning of Tiora, or late fall. The Morog bears had gone into hibernation, leaving the Ulanu bulls to roam and graze freely across the southern plains. It was a peaceful time across the land, one that would aptly conclude the 10,000 year since the Acolytes began their rule.

As expected, the Zatoran of Vorza were even busier than usual, preparing for the annual Harvest of the Acolytes to celebrate the occasion. Being the inhabitants of the sacred village that the rulers of Mirazis had established many years ago, the Zatoran were for the most part a hard-working, morally upright race. They willingly labored every day, repairing and expanding the village, and were content with the life they had. Despite this, they valued rest highly as well, and the holidays that came at the beginning and middle of the year were a welcome event in the entire land. Since these special parts of the year all honored the Acolytes, the rulers of Mirazis were happy to allow the Zatoran to devote much time to preparing for them, and normal work almost entirely ceased during the days leading up to these events.

As the Harvest of the Acolytes approached, the Zatoran all were chipping in to ensure that the ten-thousandth celebration was more exciting and memorable than any previous event that had been held in the village. Craftsmen were preparing dozens upon dozens of tables and chairs, miners and architects were making stages and storehouses, and the rarely needed defense force was assisting with everything that they could. The most important event, the great feast, was receiving special attention. Twice as many villagers had been assigned to finding rations, and the gardeners were harvesting all their ripest plants. Mokar the cook and his assistant were especially busy, preparing all the gathered food into dish after dish of their most exquisite recipes.

Of course, the feast was only half of the Harvest. After everyone had had their fill of food, the events would begin. Every Zatoran who had any talent in the arts was performing in some way or another. Muzar the forager was leading a small band, Kitao the guard was reciting a story he had written, and Olan the miner and Miro the scholar were going to act out an ancient Zatoran legend. With the huge array of talent that the village had within its population, nearly everyone was participating in one way or another.

Everyone, that is, except the blue-armored Zatoran named Vieta. As the leader of the Defense Force, Vieta was known for being incredibly skilled in combat, as well as having a quick temper. However, besides those two aspects, Vieta really wasn't exactly the biggest standout in Zatoran culture. No, as she herself claimed, she was a simple being, who excelled in fighting and not much else. Her moment of fame always came at the Stardust Festival, which honored athletic skill as well as expertise in craftsmanship. However, the Festival was not coming up again for eight more months, and thus as usual Vieta would be watching everyone else show off their talents from the sidelines.

That was why, instead of preparing for any particular activity, Vieta was spending her time honing her combat skills at the weapons hut, a large storage building located at the northernmost point of Vorza. Normally, she practiced with the other members of the defense force, but since most of the other guards were busy, her opponent that day was an automated combat drone that her mechanic friend Wudas had invented. The drone looked much like a Zatoran, in that it was made of metal, possessed a masklike head, and had a combination of four pointed legs and four gigantic arms. Zatoran also were mostly metallic as well, possessing few organic components besides interior organs, and they also wore masks over their unarmored faces. However, unlike the robotic invention that Vieta was about to face, Zatoran either had multiple legs, multiple arms, or just two large arms, instead of all three physical features. The combat drone had been engineered with all of the Zatoran traits in order to gain the advantages of each form. It would take a master at fighting to defeat it, and Vieta knew that she was in for a fierce battle.

Flipping a switch on the back to the "Offensive mode" and turning a dial to the highest level of artificial intelligence, Vieta backed away and prepared to fight. The drone's eye-like sensors lit up, and the machine charged. Screaming, Vieta charged as well. She wielded a short, sickle-like blade in each of her four arms, slashing and stabbing in perfectly synchronized patterns. The drone blocked her moves with its four huge arms, deflecting her every attack and attempting to land some of its own offensive maneuvers.

The battle was getting nowhere, as Zatoran and machine alike matched each other's movements perfectly. However, Vieta knew that unlike the drone, she would eventually become tired. She had to find some way to defeat the machine. Quickly, an idea popped into her head. Luring the machine to a nearby dirtbark tree, she executed a backwards leap onto one of its lowest branches. Unable to react quickly enough, the machine punched the tree with considerable strength, shattering two of its hands against the incredibly hard bark.

Now that she had a slight advantage, Vieta knew it was time to act. She jumped down from the tree and faced the combat drone. Despite its damages, it was still set on the offensive mode, and being a machine, it had no choice but to obey that robotic command. It continued attacking Vieta, functioning only half as efficiently as it had originally. Before long, Vieta had chopped off its other two hands with her weapons, and immediately after, she landed a swift hard kick upon its metal chest. The drone flew into the side of the weapons hut and slumped down onto the ground, utterly destroyed.

"Not again!" a voice cried out from over the hill. In a mere second a four legged Zatoran with a narrow, long mask appeared at the top and rushed over to Vieta. It was Wudas, and Vieta saw that he was not happy.

"Just great," the red-armored mechanic said, as he walked over to the remains of the drone. "This is the third time you've totally destroyed the combat drone I made for you to practice on." He sighed as he sifted through the broken machinery parts, looking for any material that wasn't broken. "Can't you be a little more gentle, Vieta?" he asked, picking up a few parts and putting them in his hands.

"Gentle? GENTLE?" Vieta exclaimed. "Wudas, I am studying the great fighting arts of the Acolytes, not some silly Zatoran marching routine! There is no way in all of Mirazis that I can be any less gentle – in fact, I should probably be even fiercer! How can you even suggest that I -"

"Okay, okay!" Wudas interjected. "I'm sorry that I asked. Now, if you excuse me, I'm going off to get some stronger protanium for a new drone." With another sigh, he scurried away on his pointed legs.

Vieta frowned, and started to walk back towards the weapons hut. I probably shouldn't have been so harsh, she thought. But of what use is a training drone if I can't go all out on it? Then again, Wudas keeps repairing them for me – and this is the first time he's ever complained.

With a groan of frustration, Vieta ran up the hill and followed Wudas. When she caught up to him, he was lugging a sack of bronze metal over to a table inside his machine shop. "Wudas, I'm sorry!" she said to him quickly.

"Hey, it's okay, Vieta," Wudas replied. "I just need to make them more resistant to attacks, it seems. Anyway, how are you doing?"

"Fine, I guess," Vieta said. "I'm just a little frustrated that I can't contribute anything to the festival." She sighed. "Speaking of which, I heard from Miro that you were going to be performing as well. What exactly is it that you are planning to do?"

Wudas smiled. "I'm going to be reciting a few poems that I've been working on in my spare time."

Vieta looked at him, surprised at the answer her friend had given her. "Really?" she asked. "I never thought writing was your thing. I had always assumed that you spent all your free time making new inventions."

"Well, in a way, I am," Wudas replied. "Writing is really just another kind of engineering to me. You work with hundreds of different, unique objects, all of which can fit together in more ways that anyone can count. Assembling them is like construction a brand new machine – it takes a lot of time and refinement, and sometimes even requires starting all over. The only real difference is that you're not working with physical matter."

Vieta did not reply. Wudas looked at her suspiciously, and waved his hand over her face. When she did not react, he began calling her name. "Vieta," he said quietly, "are you there?"

In a flash, Vieta realized that she had been ignoring her friend. "Oh… I'm sorry Wudas," she said quietly. "I was just lost in thought, I guess."

Wudas raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay, Vieta?" he asked. "What's with you lately?"

"I… I don't know," Vieta replied. Her fingers twitched as she spoke the words, which always meant that she was thinking hard. "There's just… just something I've been feeling lately. I'm… afraid. Afraid for this village – for all my friends – for everything! I'm worried that something is going to happen, Wudas, and that it's going to happen very soon."

Wudas was surprised. Vieta had never been the one to question the Zatoran's current way of life. Even during the great struggle between the ghastly creatures known as Ghoulbiters 77 years ago, she had remained strong and motivated, and her courage and skill at commanding the Defense Force had led them to victory. But now, in a time of peace, she was worrying about the safety of the village? It made no sense! Still, Vieta had always had very good hunches, and Wudas could tell that she had been thinking about this for a very long time.

Smiling, the red mechanic put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Look, Vieta, I know how you feel," he said. "We've all been unsure of things before – it's the way of life. Fortunately, we don't have to worry. Everything's going to be fine as long as the Acolytes are watching over this land."

Vieta did not return the smile. "Maybe," she replied, "except, that that's what I'm worried about the most. We're capable beings, but we've also relied on the Acolytes' protection for all our lives. We've let them defend us against the greatest threats to Mirazis, and we've always trusted in their power over evil." She paused for a moment, and looked Wudas in the face. "But, what if that all suddenly stopped? What if something were to happen to the Acolytes, and we were forced to live on our own? How would we then survive?"

Wudas stopped midway into replying. He stood there silently, fiddling with a small gear. Only three words came out of his mouth after that: "I don't know."

In another part of Vorza, the green, three-legged Zatoran named Miro was doing his usual work. Being the only scholar in Vorza, his job of learning more about the Acolytes and translating their language was among the most important in the village. So important, in fact, that it made up a whole pillar of society. Once a simple forager, he had always longed for a more important and knowledgeable job. When he was chosen many years ago to follow in the footsteps of the previous scholar, he had leaped for joy, and he settled into his new position with gladness and excitement.

But, despite the great importance of his job, the Harvest of the Acolytes still offered Miro a break from the hard work – a break that he was supposed to be using to prepare for a play that he and Olan were going to perform. Miro was in charge of the special effects, which he would accomplish with magic that he had been studying. The Acolytes had perfected a special form of magical control, and it had been only recently discovered that Zatoran could also harness it – providing that they carried a special book containing part of the Acolytes' power. Miro had been practicing it for years now, but he had never used it for anything. The Harvest would finally give him a chance to give his training a purpose, even it if was only for entertainment.

That is, if he could actually get his mind on his task. For, at the moment, he was lost in thought, and it seemed that nothing would divert his attention.

"Miro, come on," Olan the miner said, as he called from outside his friend's hut. "You don't want this play to be a disaster, do you?"

"I know, I know!" Miro yelled back. "I'll be there in a few minutes, okay?"

"You said that five minutes ago" Olan replied. "And ten minutes ago, and fifteen-"

Miro sighed. Olan was one of the friendliest Zatoran in the entire village, but even his cheerful reminders could get on a being's nerves. "Yes, I'm aware of that!" the scholar called back, his mask twitching with impatience. "But our play can wait! I may be on to something that could affect all of us!"

Olan laughed. "Yes of course, Miro! Just don't procrastinate too long, okay?" Turning around, he lumbered off to the stage that Turiz and his crew of builders had just finished.

Shaking his head, Miro quickly returned to his work. Inside, he knew he was letting his friend down, but at the same time his actions didn't bother him at all. For weeks, he had been studying a specific book that he had overlooked before, and up until now it had been almost completely incomprehensible. But a day earlier, a lucky hunch had given him new understanding of the ancient book, and the revelations that had come with this had shocked him.

Flipping to a marked section of the book, Miro began to read through the ancient prophecies written on the page. "Yes, the east star sets over the Huyaza mountains, and that refers to passage 73," he muttered to himself. "Now, according to the passage after that, the stone will warrant the judgment of evil across the path – but only if the dark forces annihilate the crystal of… OF WHAT?"

Suddenly, it all became clear to him. "Xun!" he exclaimed. "Yes, now I know what that means! Xun is the name for the crystal in the staff of the Acolytes – a legendary object that gives power to their members! Without the power, they shall disappear from existence! THAT'S IT!"

Swiping another book off his shelf, Miro quickly flipped the pages to a chapter marked by a mysterious symbol. The rune was light-blue in color, and it looked like two stylized E's connected in the middle. "Yes, this is what was prophesized years ago," he said to himself. "I never made the connection before, but now it all makes sense. This passage warns of the coming of a great evil that will be awakened after the death of the Acolytes! An evil that will stop at nothing until Mirazis is destroyed!"

The words of the book both excited him and stung him. The prophecy was dire, yes, but now that he had discovered the meaning, he could warn the village before it came to pass! Quickly, Miro picked up the two books and rushed out of his hut. "Thank the Acolytes I was able to finally figure this out. I have to get this info to everyone before….

Suddenly, he grabbed his chest in pain. He couldn't breathe, and his muscles were cold as ice. "Nooooo, it's tooooo laaaateeee," he gasped. Then he collapsed and fell unconscious.

Across the village, the Zatoran all stopped what they were doing, and their hearts rang with pain at the reality of what had happened. Weapons, tools, and other objects dropped from their hands, and they bowed their heads in grief.

Out of all of the villagers, though, no one felt as badly as Vieta. She had returned to the weapons hut and was meditating – something she had been doing a lot recently. Then without warning, her heart sank like a stone, and her mask felt as heavy as a brick. Her mind spun with shock as she realized that what she had worried about had come true.

"It's happened…." she said sadly, tears streaming down her mask. "They're gone."

Chapter Two

Death and Life

Once the home of the rulers of Mirazis, the Acolyte fortress was now completely deserted. Throughout its entire structure, not a single speck of life could be found. The gardens were dead, the Rahi cages were empty, and the Acolytes themselves had all mysteriously disappeared. Only the fortress and its lifeless interior remained, and there was no telling how long even they would last.

As the dead structure loomed over the Acolyte's former kingdom, a storm began to brew. Soon, black clouds completely covered the sky, cutting off the sun's gaze and darkening much of Mirazis. A thick, dreary rain began to pour from the sky, turning Rauga valley, the Orojahuga jungle, and even the Urjad plains into wet, muddy messes. It was a fitting end to the worst morning in the history of the Zatoran, signifying the tears shed and the loss of hope in every being's heart.

Then, out of nowhere, the Fortress of the Acolytes began to turn red. The entire structure quickly heated up to incredible temperatures, causing thick steam to appear where the rain struck its stones. The red glow turned to orange, the orange glow became yellow, and the yellow glare soon became pure white, creating an incredible shine that even the darkness of the sky could not dampen. Finally, with a great burst of energy, the entire fortress collapsed into rubble, sending two beams of red light into the sky. One beam headed straight into the atmosphere and dissipated, but the other soared through the clouds and charged them with its power.

Now, the clouds themselves heated up, cycling through the same wave of color that the Acolyte fortress had. With a great clap, immense beams of red lightning raced down from the clouds, and struck the sand in three distinct locations across Mirazis. One would have expected the lightning bolts to create enormous craters, but their impact barely caused even a single grain of sand or dust to scatter. However, one thing had changed. Now, the matter around the lightning strikes was charged with incredible power. But it was not just any power – no, it was the very last gift that the Acolytes had bestowed on Mirazis. The gift… of life.

Among other places, Pikoru Peninsula was possibly the most peaceful spot in Mirazis. Rahi rarely came here except to engage in peaceful mating and rest, and the few creatures that were native to this location were harmless to all but the smallest insects. Occasionally, Zatoran even came down to this location to meditate or relax, for the peninsula's docile beaches and calm ocean waves were soothing to the spirit.

So, it was not surprising in the least that the Acolytes had chosen it as one of the places to receive their remaining energy. As soon as the red lightning bolt had struck its sand, the life force contained within the blast began to swirl and churn the pebbles and dirt into a whirlwind. The sand then began to gather in clumps, forming a vague shape on the ground. After a long time, the clumps started to take a distinct form. Two pillars of sand shot from the lower part of the mass, and two more stretched out from the sides. A fifth pillar began to rise from the top, but quickly stopped and began to thicken. Tiny tubes of sand emerged from the ends of the upper pillars, and the middle of the pile grew at the top.

By then, the sand had almost completely stopped swirling, and the shape it had formed began to glow blue. In mere seconds, vast amounts of moisture were sucked from the air and ground, and were drawn into the mass. The blue glow fazed, and the shape took on color and texture. Then, all was silent.

Two orbs of light blinked open, and darted around their sockets. "What…. What is this?" the figure spoke, in a voice that sounded gentle and pleasant. She had never experienced this feeling before – and she didn't remember anything beyond that. "Is this what it is like to be alive? And what does alive mean? I don't know anything… or even what it means to know."

The figure noticed her body for the first time. It was lean and armored, and had a most peculiar look. "Is this called color?" the being asked herself. The sensation was quite a wonder indeed! But, she was tired of staying there. She wondered why she couldn't change her location – and suddenly, one of her limbs did. "Was that me?" he wondered. She tried thinking about moving again. This time, two limbs moved at the same time. Again, she thought. Almost immediately, the being was sitting up, and she realized for the first time that the world was not just constricted to a blue-grey field of color. All around her was a mass of lightly-colored granules. "I know these, somehow," she realized. "I remember them. I remember… myself?"

Beyond the particles were dark brown stalks with masses of bright green things on them. In another direction was a great mass of grey colored objects, which were piled under a much bigger one. There was also a strange light far away – a light that seemed to give off all the brightness in the world. It was far too strong to look at directly, however, and just turning towards it hurt the being's eyes. "What kind of place is this?" she asked. She wanted to see more, so she pulled herself into an upright position and started to move herself towards the light.

Suddenly, she noticed something most peculiar. A strange bulky mass was moving across the sand slowly. It had many pointy objects sticking out of it, and was making unusual noises. "Hello!" she called out toward the figure. "Why do you not sound like me, strange thing?"

The figure responded by making a really loud noise, and it began to rapidly move towards the blue being. "What did I do?" she questioned herself. "I was only asking it something…" She felt strange – like she wanted to be behind something. Was this called fear? "I don't like this feeling!" she cried out. In the blink of an eye, a sphere of cold matter appeared her hand and formed into a beam, which rushed toward the other figure and hit it. "Did I do that?" she wondered. In the meantime, the other figure had only stopped for a second and was now rushing towards her again. "No, stop it!" she cried out. More beams of matter rushed out towards the figure, and splashed on its armor. One hit it in the eye, and it started to whimper. Then, it turned around and ran the other way.

"What an incredible power!" the blue being said. "But I must know more… maybe that thing can lead me to somewhere else." She quickly began to rush forward, as her limbs pushed onto the ground. Suddenly, she could only see darkness. She had fallen over somehow, and was staring right into the light granules that had once been under her feet. "I guess I have a lot to learn," she said. She picked herself up and began to move again, only slower this time. She made sure that at least one of her limbs was always touching the ground, and began to pick up speed. The bright orb in the sky was growing dimmer, and the being knew that she wouldn't be able to see after it had completely disappeared. "Strange place this is," she thought.

After a long walk across the sand, the being began to experience an odd sensation. She did not feel good at all, and it was becoming harder for her to move. It was as if she was losing energy, and needed to somehow recharge herself. Looking around, she noticed a clump of brown objects with green tops lining one side of the beach. She went over to the objects, and touched the brown part of one of them. Strangely, it peeled off, and landed in the being's hand. The being looked at the object for a while, trying to decide what its purpose was.

"No, this won't do," she said, tossing the object off. "I wonder if… ah, there!" she exclaimed, looking above herself. Attached to the green part of the large object were several yellow spheres, all of which were just low enough for her to reach. The being picked one off with her long arm, and looked at it as well. This object seemed much more pleasant – in fact, something about it made her want to put the thing in her mouth. Tenderly, she lifted the object up and sunk her teeth into its surface. Immediately, she experienced a sensation unlike any other. She felt as if her mouth was about to explode with wonderful excitement!

"What is this feeling?" she said, chewing it. "This… this is called taste, isn't it? It's amazing!" She swallowed the remaining mush in her mouth. She felt… stronger. Perhaps this taste was for recharging herself? Quickly, she took more bites of the object, and continued chewing it and swallowing the mass. Before she knew it, the whole object had been finished off, and she felt as strong as she had when she had first woken up. Satisfied, she began walking down the beach again, her strength totally regained.

As she headed down the sand, she began to think. Something did not seem right to her. She was whole, yes, and even… alive. But at the same time she felt as something was missing from her life. But what was it?

"Wait… I think I know," she said. "I may have a life now, but I don't know who I am. I need to call myself something… something that gives me an identity." Thinking for a while, something finally popped into her head. "Luha…" she muttered. "I don't know what it means, but something just sounds right about it. Yes, that is who I am. I am Luha!"

It was a grand feeling, knowing that she now was truly unique. She was not just an it, or a thing - she was a being called Luha. And although she did not know it at the time, that name would prove invaluable in the future of her new life.

In a different part of the land, another being was walking through a huge forest. "I think that's what it's called, anyway," he said. He… what did that mean? The being felt a connection between himself and that word, almost as if it set him apart from something equally distinct.

Sometime before, he had woken up on a hard grey plain. He quickly discovered how to move, and things slowly began to fit together. The plain, it was called rock – and the stuff above him was called sky. He didn't know what exactly those words meant, but he somehow knew that those were their names. He had also discovered that he could make beams of windy energy come out of his hands, which pushed away dust and rocks. It was quite an experience to create them, and he wished he could figure out what their purpose was. He had even given himself a name – Jorvak. Although he was not sure what that meant either, the word seemed to fit him nicely, as if it had already been predetermined before he had come into existence.

But despite all his discoveries, he still felt incomplete. It seemed as if inside himself, there was a longing for there to be other beings like him. Somehow, he felt as if that would make him feel much better. So, he decided to leave the plain, hoping that traveling for a while would result in him gaining completion.

Eventually, he found what was called a jungle, and decided to go inside it. It was very humid and warm, and he kept seeing small darts flying around his head. He didn't like those things, but the rest of the jungle felt very peaceful. "Something about this place makes me feel good inside," the being thought.

Splosh! "What was that?" he asked himself. He realized that his foot was underneath a pool of murky water, which seemed to stretch ahead of him forever. "Ugh, now I know I don't like THAT," he said. The liquid felt cold and slimy, and almost seemed to want to drag him down further. Quickly, he decided that the water would have to go. "Maybe I can blow it away with my wind!" he said, as he raised his green hand to blow it away. A wind did come, but it only made the water splash a bit.

"No, no, that won't work," he said. "Maybe I can do something else." He raised his hand up again. This time, a different kind of energy came out – an extremely cold beam that made the water turn white on contact. "Hm, I guess this could work too," he thought. The being raised his foot up and put it on the newly created matter. Then the other foot. It held steady. He continued moving across the white ground, creating more beams of energy to harden the water further on. "Strange, I feel different when using this," he remarked. "It's like I'm colder in my body, and colder in my mind as well." The being decided that he would have to experiment once he got out of the jungle. What other surprises could be in store?

Elsewhere, a third being had discovered something quite unusual. Far below where he was standing, he saw what seemed to be large square objects arranged in neat rows. In the center of them was a tall object with three spikes at the top. And scattered around the area were small indistinguishable dots. What was really odd was that the dots were moving! "Could there be more beings like me?" the black armored figure asked himself. He was not fazed at all by the sight – there had already been plenty of strange things he had experienced.

A while ago, after awaking and gaining the ability to move, he had decided to go and explore his surroundings. The first thing he realized was that there was only a small patch of dirt under his feet. The second was that everywhere he looked, a huge black mass surrounded the dirt. When he touched the black mass with his foot, he found it to be sticky and thick. "What is this stuff?" he said in a gruff voice. He was very annoyed that it blocked his path, and wished it could just disappear.

Then, without warning, the mass started to absorb though his foot! Quickly he backed away. That was weird, he thought. He held out his hand and thought about the black mass. Again, it began to draw toward his body. "Interesting," he said suspiciously. Is that all he could do? He raised his hand and tried to move the mass. Amazingly, it did move, and revealed a path that he could follow out onto dry land.

"I like this power," he said, after he had crossed the makeshift walkway. Slightly ahead of him was a large rock, which casted a shadow on his already dark body. "Ha, you can't stay there for long, rock!" the being said, raising his hand. Nothing happened.

"So, this power works on black, sticky stuff, but not on hard stuff," he pondered. "Interesting indeed. I must test this further." As he went ahead, he tried his power on shrubs, on dust – and even on the sky itself. But still nothing happened. It appeared that his power would only work on the black mass he had started at. "Well, I guess I don't like this power as much as I thought," he said to himself.

Thinking back to his discovery, the being decided that he would have to learn about the area far below him in the same way. It would take a while to climb down the side of the cliff, but he didn't care. He had to know what was down there. "I guess that's the way of this world," he remarked. "Experiencing new things, and seeing whether they will answer to your power." This new land would definitely take some time to get used to.

So caught up in his thoughts was the black being, that he did not notice the object coming up behind him. It was huge, strong, and angry looking, and unknown to him, it had been following the being for miles. Unfortunately, the object had only one reason for quietly tracking the strange figure – it was hungry. And when a Morog bear was hungry, its prey rarely escaped to live another day.

Chapter Three

When Darkness Awakes

Walking weakly through the village of Vorza, Wudas slowly headed back to the weapons hut. He, like all the other Zatoran, had felt the death of the Acolytes instantly and unexpectedly. Of course, his first reaction had been to drop to the ground in sadness, crying tears into the dirt and sobbing. But, unlike most of the villagers, he had not just sat and wallowed in depression for long. Instead, he had decided to pick himself up and attempt to comfort the one being that likely needed it the most. This being, of course, was Vieta, the only one in the village who had not been struck by this tragedy without forewarning. Only minutes before the Acolytes had died, she had been worrying about the exact same thing. And, despite this – or maybe because of that – Wudas knew she could really use a friend to help her through the grief she was most certainly experiencing.

After a while, he finally made it to the northernmost point of the village, climbing over the hill separating the weapons hut from the rest of the town. As he had expected, Vieta was still there, sitting quietly on the grass and facing away from the village. Coming from behind, he sat down next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. Vieta turned, and looked Wudas in the face. She was obviously trying to hide her sorrow, but the wet trails of tears were evident on her mask.

"Now what?" Vieta asked suddenly, catching Wudas off guard. Her eyes suggested that the question was rhetorical, but her mechanical-minded friend was not too keen when it came to making quick responses.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to keep living like we always have," Wudas said. "Only with far more caution and self-sufficiency. After all…"

"Is this some kind of cruel joke?" Vieta exclaimed angrily, startling Wudas in mid-response. "Without the Acolytes, we can't survive in this land for long. Without them, we can't even live a day without wondering whether the weather will be harsh or if the Rahi will rampage! Their control over the natural events in Mirazis was the sapglue that bonded our home together. And that just scratches the surface of their power! Do you actually think that we even have a chance at surviving?"

Wudas's expression did not change. "I know how big the stakes are, Vieta," he replied. "But we can't just give up living." He paused for a moment, and then added, "Besides, I don't believe the Acolytes would have left us with no hope for survival."

"What are you saying?" Vieta asked her friend. "Are you suggesting that…"

"I'm not suggesting, I'm just reasoning," Wudas replied. "With their extensive knowledge of prophecy, the Acolytes most likely expected that they would eventually pass away. Do you actually think that they would have just let themselves die without ensuring that we could live on? No - they cared too much about us to do that."

"And what do you expect?" Vieta said coldly. "Do you think some sort of guardian is going to descend from the clouds? Be serious, Wudas – we are dealing with reality here, not fantasy. Besides, the Acolytes would never entrust the safety of the world to someone less powerful than them – they're too proud to stoop down to that level!"

Wudas lowered his head. "I know – it's hard to believe right now. But I've always had the mindset that it's more beneficial to hope for the best than to just be miserable."

"Well –" Vieta began – but she was cut off by the screaming of a distant villager. "What is that?" she said.

"Sounds like Torma is upset again," Wudas replied. "I'd recognize that miner's voice from a mile away, what with all his constant complaints. Come on – let's see what his problem is this time."

"Why exactly should we go after him?" Vieta asked, annoyed that her friend had suggested something as pointless as that. Was Wudas even concerned about the future of Mirazis at all?

Wudas frowned. "We don't have anything better to do right now, do we?" Without another word, he rushed off towards the screaming, rapidly covering ground with his four feet. Gritting her teeth, Vieta followed, silently wishing that her friend would soon come to his senses.

Heading right towards the central tower, the two were surprised to find that the source of the screams was not Torma, but an entirely different being! Near the base of Vorza' most important structure, the brown, four armed Zatoran named Mokar was standing over the unmoving body of a green villager. At the sight of Vorza's usually jubilant and docile cook, Vieta's indifference towards his uncharacteristic screaming instantly changed into concern - and her concern turned into pure shock when she realized that the unconscious villager near Mokar's feet was Miro, the chief scholar and one of her best friends! "What happened here?!" she shouted at Mokar. "Why is Miro unconscious? No… please don't tell me he's…"

"He's not," Mokar answered. "He's breathing, but only barely – and his heartlight's flickering rapidly! We need to get him to the medical center now!"

Wudas, who had already pushed his ill thoughts aside, quickly picked up Miro's body and hoisted it over his back. "I'll take him there," he said. "Follow me, Mokar," he added, as he began running as fast as he could towards the medical center. "Nortis will probably want an account of how you found him."

Nodding, Mokar rushed after Wudas to the western side of the village. Vieta started to follow as well – but something caught her eye. Laying right where Miro had been was a large book with obvious burn marks. Without thinking twice, she picked up the book and continued to follow her friends. In her head, she prayed that somehow, even without the Acolytes' watching gaze, Vorza's resident healer would have enough medical expertise to save Miro from an early death. Even if the land of Mirazis and everyone in it was eventually doomed, the thought of losing one of her closest friends so soon was still shocking. What could have done this to him? And more importantly: would it strike again?

Grunting, the nameless black being that had been created in the middle of the Tar River began to climb down the cliff. Curious and puzzled by the sights and sounds down in the valley, he had grown tired of just standing around and observing. Beyond that, he also felt that it was his duty to explore and learn, even if it meant… awkwardness.

As he started to descend the steep surface of the cliff, his thoughts began to wander. His imagination had already begun to spark, and he wondered to himself what kind of beings he would find down in the valley. At least, he did for a minute - when all of a sudden, he heard something. It sounded like some sort of monster was coming toward where he was! Climbing back up, he saw what looked like a huge bear sitting right near the edge of the cliff. At the sight of the black being, the bear charged and released a cloud of toxic gas from its mouth.

The black figure coughed and choked, trying in vain to figure out what was going on. What had happened to him, and why did he feel so much pain? He fell to the ground in agony, as his lungs clogged with the poisonous gas. Seeing that its prey had been stunned, the Morog bear prepared to strike a finishing blow with its giant paw. Before it could strike, however, a voice called out at the bear.

"Stay away from him!" the voice yelled, distracting the black being from his pain for a moment. Looking in front of him, he saw what appeared to be a blue, leaner version of himself. The newcomer was waving its hands at the Morog bear, which was quickly growing angry. Bellowing, it rushed towards the blue figure and released another cloud of poisonous gas from its mouth. Before the toxic cloud could reach the bear's new enemy, however, the newcomer created a beam of liquid in its hands and blasted the gas, dissipating it and splashing the bear with considerable force. It hit the beast straight in the jaw, causing it to growl in pain. Not wanting to experience the same attack again, the bear decided to run off and search for easier prey. Some things were just more trouble than they were worth.

Coughing, the black being stood up and went over to the newcomer. "Hello," he said hoarsely. "Thank you…. for rescuing me."

The blue figure smiled. "Um, you're welcome," she replied hesitantly. "I think that's the right thing to say, anyway. I never expected I'd meet others like myself. Do you have powers as well?"

"Yes… yes I do," the black being replied hesitantly. Something about this new acquaintance seemed so unusual. So… pleasant. For some reason, he seemed attracted to… to her. Yes, that was it. He was a he, but she was a she. That difference obviously had some effect, although he wasn't sure why.

"Are you okay?' the blue being asked, noticing that the other was lost in thought.

"Oh… yes, I'm fine," the black being said. "I'm fine… um, how should I refer to you?"

"Well, just so you know, I've decided to call myself Luha," the blue being replied. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Yes…" the black figure said quietly. "Very nice."

"What is your name?" Luha quickly asked him.

"Um… uh…" he started to say, trying to think up something suitable. It had never come to him to create a unique label for himself, and Luha had caught him off guard. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with a fitting word. After a while, he came to a conclusion. "Ebsmod," he said slowly, sounding out the syllables. "Yes, my name is Ebsmod, and I have the power of… of Tar?" He pondered the strange word that had just come out of his mouth. Another mystery had surfaced, and his curiosity was brimming.

"Nice to meet you, Ebsmod," Luha said, continuing the conversation even as the other being was lost in thought. "I have the power of Protodermis. I'm not sure what that word means either, but I know somehow that it describes the energy I can create."

"Uh…huh?" Ebsmod muttered, realizing that Luha had still been talking to him. "Oh, yes… I guess that makes sense. And I suppose that also means that Tar is the word that describes my energy… I think."

Luha giggled. "You are quite an unusual person, Ebsmod," she said. "But I like you, and I think we were somehow meant to find each other. Maybe we should stay together?"

"Yes, that would probably be a good idea," Ebsmod replied. "But you'll have to follow me. I'm heading down to that strange place below this cliff," he added.

"Sounds fine to me," Luha said, smiling warmly.

As the two beings climbed down towards the village, they both thought about their meeting. Although it had been odd to see someone as similar as themselves, it also was quite comforting to know that they weren't the only power-wielding beings around. The feeling… they realized it was called companionship. And it was a very good feeling indeed.

"How is he doing? Is he still breathing?" Vieta asked Nortis, as the white-armored healer tended to Miro. After Wudas had brought the scholar to the medical center, Nortis had laid him upon one of the building's eight wooden beds and immediately begun to treat him. Now, it seemed that his fate rested solely upon his hands, and Vieta wasn't about to leave until she knew what lay ahead for her friend.

Without changing his expression, Nortis nodded his head. "Yes, he's breathing, and I believe my herbs have got him into a stable condition for now," he answered. His face quickly grew dark. "But I'm afraid he won't wake up," he continued. "This… whatever it is he's been afflicted with, is like nothing I've ever seen before. In fact, as much as I hate to say it, I'm not sure if he ever will become conscious again."

Vieta lowered her head sadly, trying to hold back tears. How could this be happening to Miro? she thought. Nortis had told her that since the passing of the Acolytes, none of the other Zatoran had contracted a similar condition, or had even felt any ill effects beyond the expected depression and grief. So, why was Miro in this state? He was one of the youngest Zatoran in the village, and his health had been fine until just today. It didn't make sense! And even more than that, it just didn't seem fair to Vieta.

As she pondered over her friend's condition, Miro's suddenly eyes snapped open, startling her and Nortis in the process. "No…. no… the book…" he murmured.

Vieta rushed over, relieved and shocked at the same time. "What, Miro, what?" she hurriedly asked her friend. "Speak up!"

"Give me… the book…." Miro replied, pointing weakly behind Vieta.

Vieta looked over at the Molana marble table she had been sitting near. The book she had found at the scene of Miro's near-death was sitting next to a box of medical supplies. "Is that the book you want?" she asked, pointing over at the table. Miro nodded. Quickly, she ran over and swiped the book from its surface, hurrying it over to her friend. She had no idea how it would help, but she was willing to do almost anything if it would explain Miro's condition.

Miro reached up a frail hand and started flipping the pages, eventually settling on one chapter. Leaning over, Vieta glanced at the book and gasped. It was filled with a jumble of symbols written in the nearly indecipherable language of the Acolytes. And in the center of the left page was a symbol that was burnt and charred. A stylized double E - the symbol of pure evil.

"Did… did this symbol do this to you?" Vieta asked, pointing at the rune. Miro nodded, and his eyes closed again.

Vieta looked at the page nervously, scanning it for any other clues. "What could you have done to my friend?" she said, referring to the book as if it was a silent killer.

"What does a book have to do with Miro's illness?" Nortis said, crossing his three legs and frowning. "Books may contain great knowledge and power, but there's nothing a few pieces of leather-bounded paper could do to harm a being." He turned over to Vieta, trying to look more compassionate. "I'm sorry, Vieta, but he probably is delirious right now. There's nothing we can do about his illness but wait for him to wake up again, and I certainly don't think scanning that book is going to help anything."

Vieta did not reply, but continued to look at the faded pages. Nortis rolled his eyes, and left to go fetch more herbs for a salve he was making. It wasn't worth arguing with Vieta – once she had set her mind on something, there was no hope of trying to convince her against it. Besides, although he didn't want to admit it, Nortis had a bad feeling that Miro's condition was far beyond his or any other Zatoran's control. And that scared him, because without the Acolytes, he was the village's only hope in the area of medical assistance. If he failed Miro - and in the process failed his friend Vieta – he was not sure if he would have the confidence necessary to keep the rest of Vorza safe from illness and injury.

Sometimes, I really wish I wasn't the only healer, Nortis thought.

The great rocky masses of the Huyaza Mountains were and had always been essential in the lives of the Zatoran. Their bases held many essential materials for construction, and their peaks were home to valuable herbs. Most of all, however, their presence over Mirazis gave the villagers of Vorza a sense of protection from the rumored dangers that lay beyond the ranges. As long as they stood over Rauga valley, the Zatoran felt safe, and even the Acolyte's passing was not enough to take that feeling away from them.

But, although they did not know it, the Zatoran had great reason to fear the mountains as much as they admired them. Deep within their rugged exteriors, countless tunnels and caverns twisted through the rock, forming a complex, disorderly maze. There was no rhyme or reason to their arrangement, and they seemed to have no real purpose. And, aside from a few colonies of Shudalok bats, they were also lifeless. Or at least, they appeared to be. In reality, however, these seemingly empty caverns were in fact the only thing preventing a great evil from awaking and laying siege upon Mirazis. This evil had been imprisoned within the Holes of Darkness for thousands of years, waiting in pitch black for the time when they could finally have another chance at ruling the sacred land of the Zatoran. And now that the Acolytes' hold on Mirazis had been broken, that chance had finally come.

The scene of this new beginning was a deep cavern made of white marble, located far beneath the base of one of the largest Huyzaza Mountains. At the very end of this cavern, three colossal stone doors stood silently, each emblazoned with the symbol of Pure Evil. The doors were elegant, aside from the aforementioned symbol written upon their surfaces, but the mere sight of the double E's of doom would have been enough to scare any sensible being off. Their surfaces were clean and neatly decorated with spiraling patterns and borders, and if one were to have touched them, they would have felt a deep, bone-chilling cold emitting from every inch of their iron exterior.

As the doors loomed over the cavern without end, the center gateway sensed that the great force of power from within was trying to escape its imprisonment yet again. The iron in the door's construction had been given a primitive sense of awareness by the Acolytes, which made it intelligent enough to react to escape attempts in various ways. As usual, it activated its primary internal defensive system, which caused great chains of energy to encircle the door.

Before the chains could completely cover the surface, however, they fizzled and disappeared. The door activated its defense again, but the chains that came out vanished quicker than before. After three more times, the door found it impossible to summon even the tiniest of chains to brace its surface. Its computer-like intelligence could not understand why its defensive measures had failed, leaving it as helpless as a paralyzed Rahi.

In the meantime, the iron of the door was beginning to buckle and twist, and cracks were forming deep inside. The fractures soon became visible, and the sickening sound of sizzling metal became evident to the door's sensors. It switched to the secondary internal defensive system, but when it prepared to create a force field around its contents, nothing happened. By now, the door was covered in cracks, and the cavern was filled with the screeching shiver of weakening metal. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. Realizing that there was only one option left, the door sent out a distress signal to the Acolyte fortress. Nothing. The fortress was gone, and the gate's time had run out. In a great blast of pure power that shook the entire room, the iron barricade exploded, sending fragments of melted metal everywhere. When the smoke cleared, only a charred, black hole remained where the door had once stood.

From within the opened passageway, a voice began to laugh. The hollow chuckle echoed throughout the cavern, sounding like the voice of a thousand demonic creatures. Then, slowly and calmly, two red eyes blinked open, and a ghastly figure stepped out of the darkness.

No one word – and no phrase for that matter - could describe the hatred and darkness that spilled from this being's features. His body was a sickly mixture of dark brown and dirty orange, and his armor was heavily dented and covered in sharp spikes. In his hands, he held two curved weapons lined with more spikes, which had the texture and color of rusty, worn metal. And his face… his face was from nightmares. The mouth was filled with a maw of incredibly sharp teeth, and two glowing eyes ran down the sides of his head. Protruding from the ends of his face were two curved tusks, which looked as if they were carved from the essence of pure fear.

Who was this monstrous being? His identity had been erased from history, and the Acolytes had made sure that no Zatoran could even vaguely recall the horrific crimes that he had committed so many years ago. But even with all the efforts of the former rulers of Mirazis, one detail of the being's identity was still was buried deep in the memories of the Zatoran: his name. His name… was Zahkraz.

"After ten thousand years…. ten millenniums of horrible monotony and suffering, I am finally free from that haunting prison," the being said, sighing a breath of relief. The stale air in the cavern may have caused any other being to choke, but to Zahkraz it tasted incredibly sweet. It reminded him of the massive clouds of dust that had filled the village of Vorza after he had leveled a dozen buildings with his power, so many years ago.

He shook his head. "But I mustn't think of such trivial memories when Tiroz and Eloh are still imprisoned," he continued. "The deeds of the past will be nothing compared to what we will accomplish now that the cursed rulers of Mirazis are gone." Turning around, he faced the other doors and narrowed his eyes. "The Acolytes power has finally vanished, and my brothers shall now be free!"

Stretching out his curved weapons, he absorbed part of the energy from the room and sent it blasting out in deadly beams of pure power. They rushed forward and hit the remaining gateways, shattering them into dust. After a few seconds, two more nightmarish beings stepped out from the holes in the walls. One was white as ice, had massive pinchers in place of hands, and looked around with a total of 4 eyes. The other was red as fire and shaped like a mantis, with a sleek curved face and two giant stabbing weapons in his clawed hands. Both of them also had maws filled with teeth and were smiling.

"I see your power is still as strong as ever, Zahkraz," the red being spoke. "But, mine will soon be at full strength as well – and once it is, the Zatoran will soon feel the burning sting of my fury!"

The white being said nothing – but only clanked his claws together and grinned even further.

"Yes, we are all eager for destruction and power after being locked away for so long," Zahkraz said. "And we all shall have what we desire – killing for Tiroz, trickery for Eloh, and the energy of a hundred beings for me. The Acolytes can do no more to stop us from claiming this land as our own."

"Yes, oh yes," Tiroz said, sharpening his weapons in delight. "They thought they would always have the upper hand. Those fools – they never saw their demise coming until it was too late." He grinned. "Unlike us."

"Unlike the power of Darkness, you mean," Zahkraz corrected Tiroz, staring him in the eyes. "If it wasn't for its everlasting influence, we too would have been shrouded in ignorance. Thanks to its presence in our hearts, however, we all know the reality of the Acolytes' failures. We have felt their strength decreasing for so many years, and at the same time our power has been increasing."

His serious glare then changed into a satisfied gaze, and he turned towards the wreckage of his prison. "But enough contemplating the past, my brothers," he said, holding his weapons up in triumph. The time for action has finally come. Soon, Mirazis will once again know to fear the wrath… and the undivided power… of the Yahzuhk!"

Chapter Four

Friends and Enemies

Far east of Huyaza Peak, darkness had fallen over the dreary wasteland known as Krall. For almost any other being in Mirazis, the star-lit skies of the evening would have been a welcome end to the workday, but the same could not be said for the inhabitants of this dusty prison. The dismal locals of Krall had no job besides trying to survive in the harsh desert conditions, and nighttime to them only was a period of shivering cold winds and restless sleep. This land… it was everything that the rest of Mirazis wasn't: harsh, bleak, nearly lifeless, and most of all, hopeless.

"And yet, this is my 'home,' an ugly, distraught named Ska thought, as he slithered across the sands on a long, black tail. "It's been my home for 500 years – or was it 600?"

He shook his head in frustration. He had stopped counting the days he had lived in Krall long ago, as it served no purpose other than to remind him of his age. All he knew was that he had been trapped for a very long time, and all that mattered to him was that someday, somehow, he would find a way to get revenge on Vorza. For, Ska had once been a Zatoran himself – and he had not chosen to come to Krall. No, he had been exiled.

At the dawn of the Zatoran civilization, the Acolytes had decided that their spoken words were not enough to keep the villagers of Vorza in line, and they quickly created a code of seven laws that would govern their sacred town. The laws were all based on Acolyte principles of fairness and courtesy, and for the most part, they had very reasonable consequences. However, the final, most important law dealt with rebellion against the Acolytes themselves, and thus had a far greater punishment. Anyone who rebelled or was caught trying to rebel against the rulers of Mirazis was to be sentenced to exile to Krall, which consisted of living in a crude, twisted "village" that sat in the middle of a vast, desolate stretch of sand and dust.

To most sensible beings, the possibility of a sentence like this would have driven all thoughts of rebellion out of their minds, but the fact remained that not everyone feared the possibility of exile. Ska, who had hated the Acolyte leadership since the first day of his life, believed that the cause of freedom from any rule was more important than punishment, and his hatred for authority lead him to formulate a plan to awaken one of the Seven Ancient Evils. He was convinced that setting free a horror as powerful as that would reduce the land to a primitive, chaotic state - something which would allow only the strongest beings to survive. Over time, he had recruited several other allies to his cause, mainly fellow rebels or beings that had been her in some way or another. And it was in his private meetings with these Zatoran that he prepared for what he believed would be the beginning of a new era in Mirazis.

As he slid down a particularly large hill of sand, Ska smiled with glee at the recollection of his old plot. The plan of treachery he had concocted would have been called insanity by almost every living soul in Mirazis, but Ska had shaken with excitement at the prospect of a world where might made right and weaker beings were eliminated. However, even with all his careful planning, he had made one critical mistake. And that mistake had a name: Vieta.

Ska's smile quickly turned to a frown, and his white and black body shook with anger as he recounted how that one Zatoran had destroyed the entire operation. Vieta had been known at the time as a rash, unpredictable villager who found it hard to obey orders when she disagreed with them. Ska had thought her frustration with authority would have made her willing to help with his plot, but in the process he had misjudged her motives. Vieta was rebellious, but she was not interested in anarchy. By the time Vieta exposed him as a "traitor," it had become clear to Ska that she was committed to working for the good of the Zatoran civilization and everyone in it - but by then it was too late to change his plans, and he and his counterparts had become the first Exiled Ones of the 10th generation.

"All that work, those secret meetings, and it all came to nothing," Ska said angrily. "And that was only the half of it. Not only did we not gain freedom, but we also lost our lives. Now we are just shells of our former selves, living on hopelessly with only a field of barely eatable plants and a dirty lake to sustain us. We do nothing all day and are rewarded with fitful sleep at night. And somehow, our bodies do not age, and we can only die through starvation, getting attacked by a Rahi, or some other gruesome death. Can it truly get worse than this for any being?"

Ska lowered his head miserably. "None of us thought it could. But that was until we tried to escape. That was until we met 'the wall.'" Grimacing, he tried to push the horrible memories of his past experience away from him, but as he viewed his twisted features and long black tail, it was impossible to forget that fateful day. When he could not, he decided to relate his memories to himself in speech, hoping that talking about it would lessen the pain.

"It was just another eventless day," Ska began. "Gakso and I were watching Bizor trying to find his way out of a hole near one of the "huts," when we saw that Hishazo had actually returned from his expedition far away from Krall. We had expected him to die, but somehow he had survived, and in the process he had apparently discovered a way to escape from the wastelands. He said that he had found a huge wall that looked as if it could be climbed fairly easily. He also said that the wall was blocking the only part of Krall's border not lined with mountains, and he believed that getting over the wall would lead a being into the Urjad plains."

"It didn't take long for all of us to set out to find the wall again," Ska continued. "Two of us died, and one of us went insane, but eventually we made it to the wall, and we began climbing up it using nothing but our bare hands. It wasn't as tough as it looked – there were many ridges in the wall that provided hand and footholds, and the air became fresher as we went higher. It was as if the wall was beckoning us to climb to our freedom."

He spat on the ground. "We were all fools – we should have seen that it was a trick. By the time that we had gotten halfway up, we were so excited that we did not even think to stop and rest. Then, it happened. Some awful dark energy came out of the wall and made us fall all the way to the ground, slamming us into the sand with the force of a thousand Ulanu bulls. We should have died instantly, but for some reason we didn't. However, what came next made us all wish we had died. The energy… it mutated us horribly. Legs were replaced with tails, arms were replaced with wings, and our armor became twisted and jagged. In just a few seconds of excruciating pain, we had lost the only part of our old lives. We now were truly outcasts – and nothing more."

Ska's eyes narrowed as he tried to keep tears from escaping his eyes. Looking upwards, he screamed with all his might, and continued for what seemed like ages. When he had completely exhausted his vocal cords, he sighed and began to walk away. Then, he remembered that he no longer had legs – just a disgusting mass that he could only slither on. He sighed again, and slid away back to his village. Sometimes it was just too hard to face the truth of his miserable existence.

Only one thing was on his mind as he crossed the dusty plains - revenge. "My life, it really is no more," he said, "but the same can't be said for all the fools in Vorza. They could not even imagine the horrors I and my brothers have faced – and it would give me great joy if I could give them a sample of my pain."

He clenched his fists, and his blood red eyes finally released a single tiny tear. "If someday, I find a way to escape this prison, the Zatoran of Vorza will pay. By the Canyon of Dark Wishes, I swear it – they will pay."

Vieta rubbed her eyes as she awoke from her slumber, trying to regain a sense of time and place. She had promised her unconscious friend Miro that she would stay in the medical hut until he had awoken again – she couldn't bear leaving him without knowing that he was going to be okay. But after hours of monotony, she had found it impossible to keep herself awake, and she had slowly drifted off until her natural systems had completely overpowered her. Now that she realized what she had done, Vieta felt horrible about herself, and she tried not to imagine what might have happened to Miro during the hours she had been asleep.

"You okay, Vieta?" a familiar voice called out from the other end of the room. Vieta spun around, and saw that the gigantic-armed miner named Olan was sitting in a chair near Miro's bed. She sighed a breath of relief as she saw her scholar friend, who was snoring peacefully and was whispering gibberish like he always did at night.

"Where did you come from?" Vieta asked Olan.

"Oh, I arrived a little while after you had fallen asleep." Olan replied. "I'm sorry that I couldn't come earlier – I was still at the quarry when this happened to Miro."

Vieta yawned. "How long have I been sleeping?" she asked. "It feels like it's been hours."

Olan smiled. "Actually, it's only been about thirty minutes. I would know – it usually doesn't take me that long to fall asleep from boredom either."

Frowning, Vieta narrowed her eyes. "Boredom? BOREDOM? Is that all that this situation is to you? One of our closest friends is on his deathbed and…"

"Vieta, don't take me wrong," Olan replied, cutting her off. "I care as much about Miro as you do – in fact, I'm the only other person that has visited him besides Wudas. But, there's nothing to worry about. Nortis has assured me that our friend is going to be just fine."

"We don't know that," Vieta insisted. "Miro has been affected by something that's far beyond even Nortis's understanding. How can we be so sure that he'll be okay?"

Olan lowered his head slightly, and his black armor shifted in his seat. "I don't know for sure, Vieta," he acknowledged, "but there's no good in just worrying about it constantly. It's best that we put our trust in the unseen forces of Mirazis, instead of trying to figure everything out ourselves."

Vieta's eyes widened, and she looked at Olan like he had just suggested to take a vacation to the wastelands of Krall. "Have you not been keeping track of anything that has happened today?" she exclaimed. "The Acolytes are dead, Olan. There's no greater force our there to watch over us anymore – we are on our own."

"The Acolytes were never our ultimate hope, Vieta," Olan insisted. "They were never mine, anyway. Yes, we obeyed them, we honored them, we trusted in them, but even they were not infallible. You've heard the legends – there was a time when the Acolytes did not exist, and Mirazis was rough and untamed. The Zatoran who lived before their creation had no powerful rulers to rely on either. They only had their faith in the greater, ultimate force that put the Acolytes into rule. It was faith in the unknown that kept them going – faith in something beyond their comprehension that was kind and just and that cared about even the smallest forms of life."

Sitting up, Olan went over and hugged Vieta gently. "It will be hard, I know, but if we just put our trust in the Great Unknown and continue living our lives, then we shall survive."

Vieta frowned. "I… I don't know," she said. "I'm not sure if I can do that, or if I ever will be able to on my own."

"That's why friends were invented," Olan replied, grinning and putting his huge arms around Vieta.

As they hugged, Wudas rushed into the medical hut, looking as if he had seen a ghost. "Vieta! You've got to come out here!" he shouted. "Something incredible has… happened?" He stopped talking, and he sheepishly looked at Vieta and Olan. "Oh… I'm sorry if I was interrupting you two."

Embarrassed, Vieta and Olan quickly let go of each other. "It's not what it looks like," Vieta said. "What were you saying again?"

"Um… oh, yeah," Wudas said, remembering what he had rushed into the room for. "I was just bringing some parts back to my workshop when these two strange beings walked into the village. There's a huge crowd around them now, and I think it's urgent that you come and check this out!"

Vieta lifted an eyebrow, wondering what exactly her friend was talking about. She was very curious about the visitors to Vorza – and even a bit concerned - but she wasn't about to leave Miro yet. Slowly, she shook her head. "I promised Miro I would stay here with him, Wudas," she replied. "I'm not going out of this hut until he can assure me personally that he'll be fine."

"Look, Vieta, he's okay." Wudas insisted. "Nortis is a master at healing, so you have nothing to worry about. You need to come and see this!"

"He's right," Olan agreed. "You're the leader of the Defense Force, so it's important that you go and see what all the commotion outside is about." He smiled. "Don't worry about Miro - I'll watch him until you get back."

Vieta looked at Miro, then at Wudas and Olan, and then back at Miro. She struggled inside for a while, only making her decision after nearly a minute. "Okay, I'll come," she said finally. As she walked out with Wudas, she whispered to her sleeping friend "Be right back."

Going back to his chair, Olan sat down and gently put one of his giant hands on Miro. "She really cares about you, my friend," he said to him gently. "And so do I."

Miro opened an eye for a second, and quickly closed it again.

This place is incredible, Luha thought. Moments before, she and Ebsmod had strolled into the mass of square objects below the cliff. No sooner had they stepped their foot into the strange arrangement had a crowd of unusual beings surrounded them, chattering and murmuring to themselves. They seemed to be somewhat similar to her and her companion, but they were smaller, and they all possessed extra or abnormal limbs. Some had four arms, others had three or four legs – and a few had arms that stretched down to their feet.

"Who are these beings?" Ebsmod asked himself out loud. "They definitely aren't like us – do they even have any powers?"

"Also," Luha added, "what are those things some of them are carrying? And what is their purpose?"

"I can answer all of those questions," someone said. A being with four arms pushed her way through the crowd, looking very concerned. "My name is Vieta, and I am the commander of the Defense Force," she said. "You two are in the village of Vorza, the sacred town of the Acolytes. We the Zatoran live here, and we haven't had any visitors for over 70 years, so excuse me if I'm a bit suspicious of your arrival."

A red Zatoran with four legs looked at Vieta strangely. "When I told you to come and check this out, Vieta," he said, "I didn't mean you had to act so harshly against our guests,"

"Who says they are just harmless guests?" Vieta replied. "Wudas, I know you've always been a curious one, but we don't know anything about these beings. They could be very dangerous for all we know!"

Luha winced at what Vieta had said. What kind of emotion was this? It didn't feel good to be on the receiving end of it. "I'm sorry if we have scared you," she said. "My name is Luha, and my friend here is Ebsmod. We… we seemed to have come into being only a short time ago, so please excuse us if we're a little confused."

The four armed Zatoran frowned. "Something doesn't seem right about this," she remarked. "I feel like you two are hiding something. It's almost as if…"

"As if they are liars?" a blue, three legged Zatoran cut in. "Are you all forgetting the legends that Miro shared with us several years ago? It was prophesized that if the Acolytes were killed, the Seven Ancient Evils would awaken and rampage across Mirazis once again."

The villager pointed at Luha and Ebsmod angrily. "I think it's very obvious who these two beings are," he said. "They are former prisoners of the Acolytes who are trying to exert their power over us through trickery and deception!"

The entire crowd gasped. Many of the Zatoran's eyes narrowed, and they began to brandish their weapons and move toward the two strangers.

Vieta stood in front of Luha and Ebsmod, and held out her hands. "Stop everyone, stop!" she shouted. "This is not how the Defense Force handles situations like this." She turned to the villager who had accused the two visitors to Vorza. "Look, I know you've always been a suspicious person, Unar, but we can't assume anything yet."

"Assume anything?" Unar replied. "There's far more evidence for my beliefs than you think. We've never seen these beings before, they look nothing like any other lifeforms in Mirazis, and they just happened to come to Vorza only hours after the Acolytes breathed their last. Are you not even the least bit worried about the possibility that…"

"Wait…" another voice groaned, cutting Unar off in mid-sentence. Slowly, a green-armored villager with three legs staggered over towards the assembly. "Don't harm them…."

"Miro?!" Vieta gasped. "What are you doing out of bed? How are you even standing?!"

"I was in better shape than you thought, Vieta," Miro replied. "You must not harm our strangers… doing that would sacrifice the only chance we have to survive without the Acolytes."

"What in the name of…" Unar exclaimed. "Don't listen to him everybody… it's obvious that Miro's 'accident' this morning has warped his brain."

"Shut up!" Vieta shouted, slapping Unar on the face. "Don't you ever dare insult my friend like that! You have no right to say anything about Miro – you didn't even bother to come and visit him when he was nearly on his death bed!"

Unar stumbled backwards, trying to regain his posture. "Well… um…" he stuttered. "Fine. I'll back out… for now. But don't expect me to renounce my feelings any time soon." Shaking his head, he walked out of the crowd and left to go back to the southern end of the village.

Turning back to Miro, Vieta looked at her friend questioningly. "What exactly do you mean by what you said?" she asked.

Miro struggled to speak. "There is… a prophecy," he said slowly, "which I had just finished deciphering before I… well, you know. Its language was so ancient and cryptic that no one had translated it before me."

"What does the prophecy say?" Vieta asked.

"It relates what the Acolytes would do in order to ensure that we the Zatoran would survive after their passing," Miro replied. "It speaks of… heroes. It says that the Acolytes would create new beings to protect us when they could no longer do it themselves."

Vieta's eyes widened. "So you're saying that…?"

"I'm saying that these strangers are not our enemies, but actually are our new guardians," Miro answered.

The crowd gasped again, amazed at Miro's words. Luha and Ebsmod looked at each other, trying to comprehend what the green villager had said. Was this their purpose in life? To protect these… these Zatoran, from harm?

Vieta was very distraught. She didn't know what to believe and who to trust – the last few hours had been so confusing that she was not sure whether anything made sense anymore. Finally, she spoke up. "Well, I don't know what to think – but Miro is one of my greatest friends. I trust him – and so I guess I must trust you too, strange beings. Welcome to the land of Mirazis." Then, she reached out her hand.

Luha looked at the outstretched hand for a second, unsure what to do. She then responded by launching a beam of protodermis into Vieta's hand, blasting her to the ground. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she quickly repented. "Was that the wrong thing to do?"

"I'm not sure," Ebsmod said, "but I think you may be onto something." He looked around nervously at the crowd of villagers, who all were staring at him and Luha with wide eyes and open mouths. Vieta, who had already picked herself up, looked especially concerned. Had these Zatoran never seen a being with the power of Protodermis before? Or for that matter, had they ever even seen a being with powers at all?

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Miro, who had a look of regret on his face, lowered his head and sighed. "Sorry everyone," he said quietly, "I guess I should have mentioned earlier that the new guardians of Mirazis were prophesized to have elemental powers."

"Well, you're a little late now, Miro," a red Zatoran said, shaking his head in frustration. This was followed by a yelp of pain, as one of Vieta's hands slapped him in the face. "Hey, I'm only speaking the truth!" he insisted.

Vieta frowned. "Don't be so hard on my friend, Turiz," she ordered. "You know what he's been through, and…"

"Is this… unusual in Mirazis?" Ebsmod suddenly asked, cutting her off. "Our powers, I mean."

Caught off guard, Vieta hesitated a moment before answering. "More than you know," she finally replied, "Up till now, the only beings around here that had control over the elements were… were the Acolytes." She struggled to hold back a tear. "I guess times have changed, though, and we all need to adjust."

Forcing herself to smile, Vieta reached out her hand again. "I'm sorry if we've been rude to you, Luha and Ebsmod. If I may repeat myself, welcome to the land of Mirazis."

Nervously, Luha began to reach out her own hand, but she stopped when she realized that she still had no idea what the proper response was.

Seeing that Luha was confused, Vieta sighed. "Just shake my hand, okay?" she said.

Miro smirked. It seems that our new guardians are really going to test my friend's patience, he thought. Hopefully they both will learn some needed lessons along the way.

"This land… this land had changed much since we last set foot on it," Zahkraz murmured. After escaping their former prison, the Yahzuhk had immediately headed for the surface. It had been over 10,000 long, miserable years, and the clean, fresh air outside the cavern was both pleasing and repulsing to their evil nature. As they climbed down the mountainside and walked across the Urjad plains, the only things on Tiroz and Eloh's minds were destruction and deception. However, Zahkraz was thinking about something far different, and neither of the other Yahzuhk understood why he was so focused on the differences in Mirazis's geography.

"Yes, Mirazis had changed much indeed." Zahkraz continued. "This river of tar – it was not here before, and neither was that chasm."

"So?" Tiroz said. "It's not like we didn't expect this to happen. After 10 millenniums, there's bound to be a few differences."

"It is not just that, Tiroz," Zahkraz replied. "There are changes in the land that I alone can sense. My connections to the energy signatures of every molecule may still be rusty from so many years of non-usage, but even now I sense something deeply different with the Power of Mirazis."

"I could care less," Tiroz answered. "As long as there are still Zatoran here for me to toy with, I will be perfectly fine."

Suddenly, Tiroz's neck was in the grip of one of Eloh's claws. "Fool!" the white Yahzuhk exclaimed, speaking for the first time in eons. "You know that mere trivialities are not Zahkraz's prime concern – the Ultimate Purpose is, and we must follow him instead of our own pointless desires!"

"You can let go now, Eloh," Zahkraz said. Eloh complied, letting Tiroz slump to the ground. "I understand how Tiroz's mind works," Zahkraz continued, "and thousands of years without any Zatoran torturing can cause a Yahzuhk to lose focus. Isn't that right, brother?"

Tiroz stood up and rubbed his neck. "Yes, great leader… my apologies," he repented. "What is your plan of action?"

"I will find out soon enough, Tiroz," Zahkraz replied. Reaching out his spiked lances, he established a link between himself and the energy signatures of Mirazis. He could now sense every moving being in the land, and what their current condition was. "This is most interesting," he said. "Apparently the Zatoran are now split into two tribes – one living to the west, and one to the east, beyond that enormous chasm. It also seems that the latter village's beings have been… changed."

"What does this all mean?" Tiroz asked.

"I think it is fairly obvious, brother," Zahkraz replied. "After we were imprisoned, the Acolytes banished any of the 'disobeying' Zatoran to some sort of desert prison, where they were mutated as punishment. Yet another sign of how incredibly twisted this land has become since our temporary leave of absence."

"I'm surprised the Acolytes didn't just kill them all off," Tiroz said, smirking. "It would have been a much easier solution. The question is – how can we use this to our advantage?"

"Oh, I think we all know the answer to that," Zahkraz replied, baring his teeth in a grin. "Imagine – a village of exiles have been living in misery for thousands of years, in terrible conditions and without any hope of revenge. What do you think they would do if they had a chance to escape?"

All three of the monsters looked at each other, and began to laugh. Taking control was so incredibly easy if you had brains to match power. And with their mass of knowledge, the Yahzuhk would be unstoppable.

Chapter Five

Strangeness Abounds

Luha and Ebsmod walked through the town of Vorza, led by their new Zatoran friend Vieta. As they passed buildings and market stands, they marveled at the complexity and efficiency of the sacred village's culture. Zatoran were rushing to and fro, carrying all kinds of supplies to their huts and shops. Others were working together, taking apart various structures and carting the pieces away in small wheeled devices. In one corner of the town, guards were practicing complex maneuvers under the command of a Zatoran named Lamaru, and in another, several villagers were raising a tall tower up from the ground using ropes and weights.

Despite all her amazement, however, Luha sensed something was wrong. The Zatoran were working in various professions and accomplishing different tasks, but they all had one thing in common. Every single one of them had a sullen, depressed look on face, and none of them were showing even a hint of a smile. Luha wasn't sure exactly what this signified, but she was certain that it was not good.

"What is wrong with everyone in this village?" Luha asked Ebsmod.

"I don't know what you mean," Ebsmod replied. "Everyone seems to be working fine to me."

"No, it's not that," Luha explained. "It's that… well, they don't seem… happy."

Ebsmod pondered Luha's thoughts for a moment. "Well, I'm not sure exactly what it means to be happy," he said, "but perhaps beings are not supposed to express that while they are doing their jobs."

"You'd think that from looking around Vorza right now," Vieta said over her shoulder, as she walked in front of the two beings. "But, that's not how it used to be. No, this village was once the center of happiness and joy in Mirazis. Whether the Zatoran were working or were resting, it was hard not to find smiling villagers wherever you went."

"So, what caused this to change?" Ebsmod asked.

Vieta groaned slightly. "Well, if you had been listening to everything Miro said, you would have known." She paused for a moment, and then reluctantly began to explain. "Up until a few days ago, we had all been living our lives under the watchful eyes of the Acolytes, who were placed over Mirazis by the Great Beings as our protectors."

Luha nodded. She remembered what the Zatoran named Miro had told them now. He had spoken of the Acolytes, but only while mentioning their… death? What was death?

"I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I just don't understand what dying exactly is."

Vieta slapped her forehead. "You really are clueless about how things work around here, aren't you?" she remarked. "Let's just say that death is something you want to avoid as long as possible. Because when you die, that is it. Your life is at an end, and you can't do anything else – or even think anything else."

"So, the Acolytes are gone forever?" Luha asked.

"Yes," Vieta said. "And that is why no one here is happy. Without the Acolytes, life is going to be far harder than it ever was under them. In fact, I doubt whether we'll be able to survive at all, even with you heroes here attempting to protect us."

"Well, we must try anyway," Ebsmod said. "What can we do to help?"

For the first time since she had welcomed the two guardians, Vieta smiled. "That's why I've brought you all the way to the end of town," she said. "Part of the village is traveling out to the quarry to collect some Molana marble for a new building. Normally, a few guards from the Defense Force would travel with them as escorts, but that may not be enough protection this time. One of our scouts has reported that the Rahi are starting to become more uneasy, and I think it will be best if one of you travels with them."

"I'll go," Luha quickly said, before Ebsmod could answer.

"Wait," Ebsmod responded. "I don't know if it's best for just one of us to go. Maybe we should both…"

"No, that's not a good idea," Luha insisted. "What if the village is attacked while we're gone? One of us should stay here to protect it."

"Then I'll go to the quarry, and you can stay here," Ebsmod said.

Luha raised an eyebrow. "Ebsmod, are you…. worried about me?" she asked.

Slowly, Ebsmod nodded his head. "Something doesn't feel right," he said. "We've only just met, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

Luha smiled. "That's very sweet of you,' she replied, "but you don't have worry about me," she replied. "Just stay here, and we'll be back in no time."

"We won't be back in no time if we can't even get moving!" Vieta interjected impatiently. "Come on – how long does it take make up your minds?"

Luha and Ebsmod looked at each other for a moment, and then burst out laughing. They didn't know exactly what they were doing, or why they had the urge to laugh, but it still felt good.

Vieta rolled her eyes. These beings may be our new guardians, she thought, but they still have a lot to learn.

As the sun began to set over the entire land of Mirazis, Ska slowly slithered into the "village" of Krall, looking even more distraught than he had been when he had left a few hours ago. The other Exiled Ones barely even lifted an eyebrow at his arrival, and none of them went over to ask him what his problem was. Ska had been going out of the village and coming back depressed for years now, and they all knew that it was just a part of his miserable existence.

He sighed dismally as he looked over the disaster that he called his home. Krall was referred to by some as "Kru-Vorza," which combined the Zatoran prefix for "bad" with the name of the sacred village of the Acolytes. And the name described the Exiled Ones' home very adequately. Krall was truly a dark, twisted copy of Vorza, right down to the arrangement of the huts and the tower in the middle. The only difference was that while Vorza was beautiful and regal, Krall was filled with chaos and misery. The buildings were all corroded, mangled and dark, and the numerous holes in their architecture ensured that no Exiled One could find decent shelter in them. It was really more of a ruin than a village – a ruin that they were sentenced to live in for the rest of their lives.

As Ska dragged himself down the streets, a crash behind one of the huts signaled to him that another fight had broken out in the alleyways. Walking between a pair of dusty buildings, Ska saw that two Exiled Ones were engaged in a fist fight. Or rather, the red, double-tailed one was holding the other in a headlock and punching his mask over and over again. It was fairly obvious that the fight was completely one sided, and Ska doubted that the red Exiled One's captive would continue to resist for long.

"You just don't learn, do you?" the stronger villager said, as he gave his black, single tailed foe another punch in the face.

"What is – Ow – there to – OW – learn?" the other retorted, trying not to pass out.

"Plenty!" the first Exiled One replied. "Like, not trying to accuse someone that has twice your strength! Now, do you give up?"

Deciding that he had experienced enough pain for the day, the black Exiled One finally conceded. "Okay – OW – I give up, Gakso!" he shouted between his captor's blows.

Smirking, Gakso stood up and let his captive run off. "Thanks for being my punching bag, Nurig!" he shouted. "I hope we can do this again some other time!"

Ska smiled meanly. "Nurig?" he said. "So, Nagaroh's finally got himself a new name, huh?"

"Yep," Gakso replied. "And it's quite fitting, don't you think? The word for 'outspoken fool' really describes him well."

Ska nodded his head, grinning widely. The Exiled Ones had never been keen on politeness, and their custom of assigning a rude name to every newcomer to Krall always livened up the village – if only a little bit. It wasn't hard to think up new titles either. Every slang word and insult known to the Zatoran was used nonstop in Krall, to the point where "Hah, you kobork!" was an acceptable form of greeting a fellow villager.

As they began to laugh, a blue, double-tailed Exiled One slid towards them. "Gakso! Ska!" he yelled. "You better come see this – there's another arena match going on!"

"Another one already?" Gakso remarked. "Who is it this time, Yazohu?"

Yazohu grinned. "You'll never guess," he said, grinning. "Bizor is going up against Golga!"

Gakso's eyes widened in delight. "Really?" he exclaimed. "Oh smaturg, that's going to be incredible!"

"Yeah, I know," Yazohu agreed. "Bizor is going to get pulverized!" He motioned for Gakso to follow him. "Come on," he said, "let's hurry over there!"

Nodding his head rapidly, Gasko rushed off with Yazohu. Ska followed after them slowly, both excited and bored about the latest arena fight. Unarmed combat between the Exiled Ones had become a common way of settling disagreements in Krall, and it was a bright spot in their otherwise dull life. However, Ska had seen so many matches by now that they had become very repetitious, to the point where he could predict the outcome of every single battle. It was only the prospect of seeing the village fool Bizor getting his mask handed to him that motivated Ska to go to the arena - and even then he doubted whether it would make any difference.

Soon, he, Gakso, and Yazohu had made it to the northern side of the village. Exiled Ones of all types had surrounded the arena, which was really just a crude sandpit with no other distinguishing features. They were all cheering and yelling insults at the two fighters, neither of whom were especially popular in Krall. Golga was one of the few female exiles, and as such she had been taunted and insulted by almost all of the male villagers from day one of her imprisonment. And as for Bizor… well, insanity always lead to one being despised and mocked.

"Oh great, the match has already started!" Gakso said, disappointed that he might have missed some of the delightful carnage.

"Nah, it looks like they're just warming up," Yazohu replied. "Golga's already getting really angry, though." He pointed down at the arena, where the huge, female Exiled One was preparing to charge at Bizor.

"You'll be sorry for squashing those cactus berries I found!" Golga shouted at her foe, raising her huge claws up in the air. Her green armor was shaking with anger, and her eyes were filled with contempt for her enemy.

The scrawny, winged Exiled One named Bizor looked around frantically, trying to decide what his course of action would be. "Oh, what should I do?" he asked himself out loud. "I know – I'll pretend I am dead and Golga won't attack me!"

Quickly, Bizor tried to lay his brown body across the ground, but his legs would not move. "You fool!" he shouted at himself. "That will not trick her – I must attack!" Turing back to face his opponent, he moved himself into as an aggressive posture as his feeble limbs could manage.

As Golga charged at Bizor, he changed his mind again, and he moved over to the side. Golga slid past Bizor and slammed into the edge of the sandpit, causing dust to cloud the entire area. The crowd booed and jeered the female Exiled One, getting her all the more angry.

"What are you doing, kobork?" Bizor asked himself. "Are you trying to get me killed? I'm too weak to challenge someone as strong as Golga!"

Up above the sandpit, Gakso yawned at the pitiful sight that was before him. "This is the most boring fight I've ever seen!" he exclaimed. "There's no injury, no screams of pain – just a couple of complete fools playing a game of tag!"

"It really doesn't matter to me anymore," Ska said drearily. "Carnage is predictable, and screams of pain are as common around here as dust flies."

Gakso turned his head and frowned. "And you call what you've been doing for entertainment better?" he retorted. "Wandering around longing for another chance at revenge may be your preferred activity, but the rest of us have accepted our fate and are trying to make the best of it."

"Don't lie to me," Ska replied. "I see the look in your eyes. If there was even a miniscule chance of gaining freedom and paying the Zatoran back, you would do everything you could to escape."

Gakso laughed. "And what gave you the idea that there was a chance at all?" he said. "Get real, Ska – we're stuck here, and there's nothing we can do about it."

Ska began to reply, but something else had caught his attention. Looking beyond the arena, he saw what appeared to be a lone figure standing on the top of one of the hills. The glare of the setting sun kept him from making out many details, but there was no mistaking the humanoid shape.

"What's with you?" Gakso asked, jolting Ska out of his concentration.

"I see something out there," Ska replied, turning back to Gakso "It doesn't look familiar at all."

Gakso smirked. "I knew this would happen someday," he said. "You spent so much time wandering around in the desert that you forgot to get a drink of water, and now you're starting to see mirages."

Ska narrowed his eyes. "I'm serious, you makaluk," he said angrily. "There's something out there and..." But as he turned back, he saw that the figure had disappeared.

"Yes, whatever you say," Gakso said mockingly. "And next time, you'll swear you've seen a lava scorpion swimming in the Dead Lake."

Annoyed, Ska punched Gakso in the face, knocking his mask off. "You know better than to make fun of me," he said. "I could beat you in an arena match with one hand tied behind my back." He sighed. "But that doesn't matter right now. I know I saw something, and I'm going out there to find it." Quickly, he began to slither away towards the outskirts of town, heading over the hills of sand that bordered the village.

As Ska disappeared over the hill, Gakso began to laugh. "Be my guest!" he shouted after him. "But don't expect anyone to come running to help when the Woga frogs surround you! You know how much they love to prey on lone creatures at night."

Ska did not reply, for he was already far away from the arena. What a fool, Gakso thought, as he picked up his mask. It will only be a matter of time before his rage causes him to make a grave mistake. And when that mistake claims his life, I'll be surprised if even one single being sheds a tear at his departure.

"Where am I?" Jorvak asked himself, as he stumbled through the jungle without any sense of time or place. Ever since he had first entered this huge maze of trees, vines, and other plants, he had found himself very at home with the raw, untamed nature of the area. However, he had eventually realized that he couldn't stay in the jungle forever, and now had been wandering around for ages trying to find a way out.

Feeling quite tired, he sat down on a fallen tree to catch his breath. Around him, insects and other creatures scuttled, slithered, and flew to and fro, making a plethora of unique noises. The vast amount of living things he had found in every area of the rainforest would have made most beings uncomfortable, but Jorvak felt right at home with the wide variety of animals and plants. "It really feels amazing to be in the center of so much life," he muttered in astonishment.

Reminding himself that he couldn't stay put forever, Jorvak stood up and chose a different direction to walk in. He had been going left from his last stopping point for hours, and it had led him nowhere. So, he decided to go right this time, hoping that this direction would take him out of the jungle.

It was slow going, but Jorvak had gradually been learning how to use his elemental powers to aid him, to the point where the various obstacles of the rainforest barely even delayed him. When water blocked his path, he froze it, and when vines stood in his way, he blew them away with the wind. He had also discovered a third power that allowed him to create bolts of yellowish-white energy, but so far he had not found a good use for them yet. However, he was sure the "lightning" had some unseen purpose – he just wasn't sure what it was.

After a long walk, he finally saw what looked like the edge of the jungle. The light beyond the trees was brighter than inside the jungle, which signaled that the space beyond them was wide open. Upon bursting out of the rainforest, he realized that he had not arrived at the same place that he had entered. He was no longer near the mountains, although he could see them in the distance. Instead, there was a huge plain that was covered in grass and dotted with a few trees. However, the trees did not look like the ones in the jungle, and he doubted whether they were even closely related to each other.

Far beyond the plain, he saw something even more unusual. Near the horizon, there lay what looked like a huge clump of square rocks, with a tall, branchless tree trunk in the middle. He couldn't make out anything beyond that, but at the same time the strange gathering of objects interested him deeply. It was as if they were calling to him, begging Jorvak to come and protect them. Smiling, he obeyed the objects' silent plea and began to run towards them.

"This land really is unusual," he said, as he ran through the grass. "Maybe that's why I like it so much."

Chapter Six

The Serpent and the Prey

It was almost nighttime in Rauga Valley, and a strong, ghastly wind had begun to blow across the grassy plains and against the mountain heights. In Mirazis, conditions like this signaled that a fog storm was on its way – and with that would come miles of thick, swirling mist that would make it impossible to navigate through any part of the valley.

That, of course, was why Vieta was angrily urging Luha to move faster. The Zatoran's new savior kept becoming distracted by the "wonders of nature," as she called them. But it was getting rather tiring for Vieta to keep breaking Luha out of her occasional trances, and she wondered whether they would make it back to Vorza before the storm began.

"Come on, you Nizgan slug!" Vieta shouted, as Luha paused to look back at the quarry company. Behind her, the two dozen Zatoran that had traveled with them were pulling wheeled carts loaded with freshly cut blocks of Molana marble.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Luha replied, and she started to speed up again. She was sincere with her apology, but at the same time she wasn't really quite sure what was coming over her. It wasn't that she was ignoring Vieta's orders - it was just that she couldn't help but marvel at the strength of the Zatoran villagers. Indeed, they had left the Kijando pass more than an hour ago, and they were still less than halfway to the village of Vorza, but not a single member of the company was showing any sign of tiring. They have probably been doing this for many years now, she thought. I am so new to Mirazis that I could not endure this kind of work for long, were I in their position.

"Quiet everyone!" Vieta suddenly ordered, jutting Luha from her thoughts. "I think I heard something approaching."

The villagers obeyed, and they immediately halted and stopped chattering amongst themselves. From behind the convoy, the two other guards assigned to the journey quietly ran up to Vieta. Their expressions told Luha that something was deeply troubling them.

Then, out of nowhere, a huge Rahi burst out of the ground, landing about 300 feet away from the Zatoran. It was long, grey colored, and rocklike, with a giant pointed head and many sharp body segments. However, what shocked Luha the most was that it had no visible legs or arms, and was moving solely by slithering its body across the ground! What kind of creature was this?

"What's a Torgix doing this far south?" the brown, three-legged guard named Paluva whispered, as Luha watched the snake in amazement. "I know Valmoa told us that the Rahi weren't acting like normal, but I didn't realize that the situation was getting this severe."

"I'm not sure what's going on," Vieta replied quietly. "Perhaps the effects of the Acolytes' death are rearing their ugly head even sooner than I thought. We all knew this was going to happen sooner or later, but I didn't expect us to see any major changes in the Rahi until at least a week had passed."

"Well, something's happened," the red, four-legged guard named Lamaru said calmly, as she scanned the Rahi closely. "That Torgix is not acting normally – it's moving very frantically, and it has a strange look in its eyes." Her choice of words seemed to indicate concern, but her tone of voice did not sound worried at all. Of course, this was only to be expected from Lamaru, who was famous across Vorza for her extremely calm disposition and her refusal to panic even in the most dangerous of situations.

"So, what should we do?" Luha asked, catching everything by surprise.

"Nothing," Vieta answered quickly. "We just stay quiet until it's passed." When she realized that Luha had a confused look in her eyes, she explained herself. "Torgix Rocksnakes are incredibly shy Rahi, especially considering their size. They're almost blind and thus rarely ever come above ground. None of us have ever seen one attack another being outside of defense. If we remain calm and stand still, its audio receptors won't pick us up, and we'll be just fine."

Luha nodded slowly, but her eyes remained focused on the snake. She watched as the lone Rahi rumbled around, trying in vain to regain its bearings.

"That's right," Vieta said quietly. "Just turn around and dive back under the… wait. Wait a minute…"

"Huh?" Paluva said, confused. "What do you mean by…?"

"MOVE!" Vieta suddenly exclaimed, startling every except Lamaru. Quickly, the quarry company dropped their carts and began running as fast as they could back to the village. No one was sure what was going on, but they all knew that when Vieta ordered something in a worried voice, it meant that they were in great danger.

All of them, that is, except Luha, who was stumped as to what had just happened. "What was that for, Vieta?" she tried to ask, but everyone else had already pushed past her and was running south as fast as they could. She stared blankly as the Torgix Rocksnake began to rumble more ferociously, and proceeded to… charge them? It was charging at them? But why? Hadn't Vieta said that it would leave them alone? What was going on?

Puzzled as she was, there was no time to stand around and think about the situation, as the beast was already gaining ground on her. Turning around, she bolted after the Zatoran, trying not to look back in fear at the monster that was chasing them. Her long, powerful legs rapidly pushed her across the fields, and she caught up to the fleeing mining crew in no time.

"Why is that thing going after us?" she said to Vieta, feeling a strange emotion building up in her. "You said it would leave us alone!" she said angrily. Anger? Was that what this was?

"I know, I know!" Vieta replied. "I was certain that it would back off if we remained quiet, but when I saw that look in its eyes, I knew that we only had seconds before it attacked us!"

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Luha asked.

"Are you totally clueless?" Vieta exclaimed, simply astounded. "You are supposed to be our guardian – our protector! So stop acting like you're helpless and start doing some protecting!"

"Okay… I'll try," Luha replied. Slowly, she stopped running away with the mining company and turned around to face her foe. As the giant Rocksnake approached, she stretched out her arm and fired a wave of protodermis, which formed into a giant hand and slammed into the grey serpent. To her shock, the liquid bounced off the snake without even making it flinch. It seemed that this Torgix creature was immune to her powers!

Unfortunately, the snake wasn't about to let down on it's assault. As it neared Luha, a sonic wave blasted out of the Torgix's mouth at her. The hero of protodermis dodged the attack just in time, executing a sudden back flip away from the sonics. As she landed hard on her legs, she watched in amazement at the effects of the snake's attack. Right where her feet had been a moment ago, the ground was now turning into liquid, and some of the newly formed liquid was turning into gas! There was now a huge hole in the place of the grass and dirt, which had been transformed and dissolved by a simple sonic roar.

How am I supposed to stop this thing? Luha thought, as she continued to dodge the snake's attacks. I can't hurt it, but it can probably hurt me. What I need is to think… creatively?

She smiled in realization. Yes, creatively, thought Luha. That means to invent new ways of doing things. I can be creative about defending the Zatoran – but how? Thinking while dodging waves of matter-alteration energy from the Rocksnake, she considered how to defeat the beast. Soon, she came up with an idea. Vieta told me that these creatures can't see, and rely on their hearing. Maybe I can use this to my advantage…

In the meantime, the snake was still charging, insistent on silencing the noise that it had detected minutes ago. As it drew closer to the sound, it prepared to fire another sonic wave. Then, suddenly, the strange noise was overwhelmed by a louder, more violent sound.

Crash! It rang out. To the snake's audio receptors, it had the tone of an underground explosion, except that it was taking place on the surface. Confused, the Torgix stopped in its tracks and twisted its head back and forth, trying to determine where the first noise had gone.

Crash! There it was again, only in a different location. Crash! And another. Crash! Crash! Crash! And now there were multiple explosions going off at the same time. The Torgix tried to concentrate, but the crashing sounds kept coming, preventing it from gaining any level of focus.

Standing barely 30 feet away from the Rocksnake's giant head, Luha smiled in triumph. The protodermis geysers that she was summoning were effectively confusing the Torgix. Her plan had worked! However, she knew she couldn't keep on doing the spouts forever, especially since she had only just discovered the power. Now it was time for the second phase of her plan. Releasing her power, Luha caused the geysers to recede, leaving the area as quiet as it had been before.

The Rocksnake, which had been getting very irritated, was relieved that the crashing sounds had stopped. By now, however, it had also forgotten all about the nose that had originally irritated it, and felt there was no point in staying put. It began to turn around and head back, when… wait, there was that noise again! No, not the crashing sound, but the quite, cracking sound that sounded like the patter of metal paws on the ground.

No! Luha thought, seeing the reaction of the snake. It heard me move away! But I can't let it find me, or my whole plan will have been for nothing! Getting another idea, Luha focused her power and started creating a series of water spouts, each traveling further north than the previous.

Crash! The Torgix heard behind itself. The loud noise had returned, and the snake wasn't about to let it get away this time. Whirling around, it cracked its body at the crashing sound like a whip. For a spilt second, it felt a strange, powerful substance splash into its rocky hide, but it quickly retreated, and the sound disappeared.

Satisfied that its attack had defeated the noise, the Torgix started to turn back around, and… Crash! It heard the sound again, only it was a bit further away this time. Crash. Again, but now it was really far away. The snake realized that it had not defeated the noise, and worse, it was trying to escape! No – the Torgix would not let this happen, not after what the noise had done to temporary overwhelm its hearing. Angrily, it slithered away and followed the crashing sounds, which were steadily moving further and further away.

Watching as the Rocksnake slid into the horizon, Luha breathed a sigh of relief. Phew, she thought, that was close. And I feel so tired now... I feel like just laying down and...

"What are you doing?" a voice called out. It was Vieta!

Luha, who had been starting to lie down and fall asleep, looked up with a tired face. The Zatoran commander was standing over her, with an expression that signified disbelief.

"Uh…what do you mean?" Luha asked.

Vieta shook her head. "You've got to be kidding me," she said sarcastically. "Do you really think this is a good place to take a nap? You may have distracted that Torgix Rocksnake, but what's stopping it from coming back here and smashing your armor apart while you're asleep?"

"Oh… I guess you're right," Luha answered. She stood up, and looked at Vieta confusingly. "Wait…" she questioned. "I thought you were escaping with all the other Zatoran. Why did you come back?"

"For you, of course," Vieta said. "I had a feeling that something might happen, so I gave the command to Lamaru and came back to see how you were doing. Fortunately, you had already made the Torgix go away, but I still didn't expect this from you."

Dismissively, she turned away and waved her hand. "Now come on – we need to get back to the village before that snake returns" She smiled. "Besides, we wouldn't want you to collapse in the middle of a rampaging Ulanu herd or something."

"No, that doesn't sound very pleasant at all," Luha replied, smiling back.

After a long journey, Luha and Vieta finally reached the village of Vorza. After all that had happened in the last day, Vieta was still on edge, but Luha was not expecting anything else out of the ordinary. So, she was surprised when, after coming within viewing distance of the village, they were greeted by a strange sight. Ebsmod was outside of the city boundaries, fighting what looked like a green version of the being of tar in the light of the village's torches. The two combatants both looked tired, and their faces were scrunched up in fierce concentration. What was bizarre was that the green being was launching not only blasts of wind, but blasts of ice and even lightning. As they went closer, Ebsmod launched a fist of tar at the stranger. The other being rolled and dodged, responding with a bolt of electricity. It hit Ebsmod squarely in the chest, knocking him off his feet.

Luha had had enough. She was still tired from her encounter with the Torgix Rocksnake, but she wasn't about to let her friend go down alone. Anger flooding her face, she materialized a protodermis sphere in her hand, and prepared to engage the stranger. At least until, she saw him grab Ebsmod's hand and pull him up.

"Okay, what's going on here?" Luha asked suspiciously, running over to Ebsmod and the newcomer. "Who is the new being, and why was he fighting you?"

Ebsmod smiled and patted the stranger's back. "Luha, I'd like you to meet my new friend Jorvak. He wandered into the village a while after you left, and was really confused when I welcomed him. So, I told him about what we had learned, and after I explained we decided to practice using our powers."

"It's nice to meet you," Jorvak said, reaching out a hand. Luha fought the impulse to blast the hand with a beam of protodermis, and shook it gently. "So, I hear we're supposed to protect these Zatoran," the green being said.

"Yes, that's true…." Luha said, trailing off. She still had not spent a lot of time contemplating their mission, and she was only starting to comprehend how dangerous it might be. "I don't think it's going to be an easy task, though," she continued. "And honestly, I'm not quite sure how we're supposed to accomplish it."

Ebsmod put an arm over her shoulder. "Well, I guess we'll have to figure it out together," he replied.

"Or," Vieta added, walking up to the three heroes, "you could ask my friend Miro. None of us even knew who you were until he showed up and explained one of the ancient Acolyte legends. If there's anyone in Mirazis who knows something about your mission, then it's him."

"Then, we go to this Miro fellow," Jorvak said. "Besides, I'm also really confused about my elemental powers. Maybe he'll be able to explain that as well…."

Ebsmod nodded. "I think we all have a lot of questions that need to be answered," he agreed. "Let's hope that Miro isn't as clueless as we are."

At those words, all three of the heroes laughed. Vieta managed to force a chuckle out as well, even as the death of the Acolytes still haunted her memories. It would take a long time for her to accept that horrible tragedy, but the fact that she still had the ability to laugh gave her hope that, perhaps, life could go on.

Ska trudged up a dusty hill of sand, keeping his eyes open for any strange activity. The tip of his tail, normally the most lifeless part of his body, beat in excitement. Gakso had called him crazy, but he was certain that he had seen something unusual outside the village. Not once did the prospects of danger or death come to his mind – and even if they had, he had already been exposed to so much of both in Krall that fear of either was no longer a part of his personality.

Soon, he had traveled nearly half a mile away from his despised "village," and the Cursed Tower was only barely visible in the darkness of the night. Cold, desert winds blew across his face, and his entire body shivered like an old, rusty machine. He looked all around at his surroundings with his blood red eyes, trying to catch another glimpse of the strange figure he had sworn he had seen. Nothing. There was no life on this hill, or on any hill for miles around.

"No!" Ska shouted. "I saw something! Don't try to fool me, you slisgan! Come out, whatever you are!"

The only answer to his cry was the howling of the wind, which was starting to kick dust up around him. Ska sighed, realizing that he had fallen prey to yet another illusion of his freedom-longing soul. He had not seen anything – he just had wanted to see someone out on the desert hills. Someone that would rescue him – someone that would bring him out of Krall so he could get his revenge on all the Zatoran of Vorza. His worn-out mind had taken those feelings and channeled them into a mirage of hope. But, it was just his imagination. There was no savior to be found, and he was as stuck in Krall as he had ever been.

Lowering his head, he turned around and began to slither away, when all of a sudden, a strange voice called out. "It's tough, isn't it?" the voice said quietly, barely piercing the noise of the rushing wind.

Immediately, Ska whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. The darkness shrouded whoever had spoken, to the point where Ska began to think that it was just another trick of his mind. "Who said that?" he called out. "Show yourself!"

"You have nothing to worry about," the voice continued. "I'm a friend, not an enemy."

"That's what the Zatoran of Vorza said," Ska retorted. "Right before they turned me in to the Acolytes."

"Ah, but I know how you feel, my friend," the voice said. "For I too was a victim of the Acolytes misjudgment and iron fists of cruelty." Then, the source of the voice came into view, baring his teeth and curved weapons. "We have more in common that you may think."

Ska stumbled back. No... this wasn't happening, not to him! "You… you're…" he stammered.

"A monster?" the being replied. "Yes, I suppose I am. But I wasn't always this way, you know. Many millennia ago, I was one of the most handsome beings you could ever meet. That all changed when the Acolytes decided that I wasn't behaving well. They locked me away and transformed me into the hideous figure you see now, all while believing that they were doing Mirazis a favor."

Ska pondered the being's words for a minute. He just couldn't get over the figure's ghastly appearance, with the countless spikes and glowing red eyes. And his story sounded a little too convenient – a little too casual. But seeing his ugly tail slither in the night reminded Ska that he was no pretty creature either. If anything, the being in front of him could probably sympathize with his troubles.

"That happened to me too," Ska finally said, clenching his fists. "And I haven't lived a single day without wanting to get revenge for what the Acolytes and the other Zatoran did to me."

"I understand," the other being replied. "That's why I'm here – to offer you a chance to get what you want."

Ska's eyes widened. For a second, he couldn't believe what the being was saying. Was this just another illusion, or had he finally stumbled on a savior? "You… you mean you can help me escape?" he asked.

"Oh, I can do better than that, Zatoran," the being said. "With me on your side, you will be able to rule Mirazis along with your fellow villagers. This land is ripe for the picking – or don't you know that the Acolytes are no more?"

At those incredible words, Ska's entire soul screamed with both disbelief and excitement. "Wh…what?!" he exclaimed. "The Acolytes, my captors, are DEAD?!" Could it be possible?

"Yes, Zatoran, they are dead," the other being replied. "Never to exile another being, or to cast their miserable rule over our land. After ten-thousand years, their dominion had come to an end, and the world is finally free from their bondage."

Ska didn't know what to say. He couldn't feel joy anymore, but nevertheless he felt a great sense of peace – something that he hadn't experienced in ages.

"Now, Zatoran," the other being continued, "tell me. Do you want to live the rest of your days as the rightful ruler of this land?"

"Yes, I do!" Ska shouted, echoing several hundred years of hopeful thoughts. "I want to rule!"

The other being smiled. "Good, that's what I wanted to hear. Now, listen to me: come back here with all the other villagers when the sun is at its zenith. There I and my brothers shall show you how you can acquire power. And I trust you shall be pleased." He began to walk away.

Eager to obey, Ska started to turn around, when a thought came to his mind. "Brothers?" he shouted back. "There are more?"

The being turned his head. "Well of course," he replied. "Aren't there always?" Then, he disappeared into the darkness.

As Ska rushed back to his village, a whirlwind of feelings rushed through his head. At first, he was tempted to keep the knowledge of this strange new being to himself. After the way all the other villagers of Krall had treated him, what reason was there for him to share his knowledge with them? As he thought over the matter, however, he realized that they had gone through just as much suffering as he had, and they all deserved to have another chance at escaping Krall. Yes, the others needed to hear about his encounter immediately – even Bizor. He knew some would be skeptical, and others might not even consider his words at first, but the promise of freedom would overpower that distrust. Like it or not, the Exiled Ones were going to rule.

"Well," Tiroz said, as Zahkraz returned from his mission. "How did it go? Are the Zatoran in your grasp, my leader?"

"Like a piece of Bagoka Fruit, Tiroz," Zahkraz replied. "Tomorrow, we shall show these exiled Zatoran true power. They will follow us with unrestrained loyalty and devotion, just to get revenge at their former brothers and sisters."

Tiroz smiled, and began to sharpen his weapons. "I can't wait," he said eagerly. "The smell of singed metal is already in my nose."

Eloh said nothing as usual, but continued to grin devilishly.

"Indeed," Zahkraz said. "We shall have what we want in no time, my brothers. The beings of Vorza will soon know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of power. And they will not like it one bit."

Chapter Seven

Critical Discoveries

Nortis grunted as a rock fell beneath his feet. Quickly adjusting his legs, he moved slightly to the left, setting himself down on a narrow ledge. He wrenched his pickaxe out of the rock and tapped it into the ledge above him. This sure has gotten a lot harder lately, he thought.

As the sole healer of Vorza, Nortis had many responsibilities, and one of the most important was collecting herbs and other vegetation to use in his various remedies. Most of the plants were located in Rauga Valley, but a few could only be found in dangerous, far-away locations. Recently, he had run out of a particular plant called the Fizmune Summit Flower, which was a component of his cures for Zatoran hydraulic exhaustion and digestion disorder. Those two aliments were some of the most common sickness that had plagued Vorza over its long history, and it was essential that he had all the ingredients for their respective cures on-hand.

Of course, getting to the flowers was half the effort. As one Zatoran healer had once remarked, the Fizimune's full name was not merely a cute saying with no real meaning. The plant only grew on a single rocky plateau, which was located near the top of one of the eastward Huyaza Mountains. Reaching the flowers meant first traveling across the Urjad plains and then climbing all the way up that particular mountain – hardly an easy task for even the most agile of Zatoran. And for Nortis, whose three-legged build was not idea for scaling steep inclines, it was all the more difficult.

Fortunately, Nortis had made the journey many times before, and it was now almost second nature to his reflexes. Lately however, he was facing other problems. His emotions were still filled with a mixture of grief and disbelief over the recent death of the Acolytes, and last night he had experienced an unusual lack of good sleep. His mind, however, was the biggest problem – his thoughts had been wandering too much lately, and he had been finding it harder to focus during his work. Making medicines with this kind of mental condition was hard enough, but precise mountain climbing was an even greater challenge – and a greater danger.

"I've just got to keep myself on edge," Nortis said to himself. "I could be cheerful, angry, sad, or any random mixture of emotions, but what really counts during this climb is staying alert."

After several long hours, the Zatoran doctor finally climbed up onto the ledge where the Fizimune grew. The bright purple and maroon flowers shined in the sunlight, contrasting the pale, almost colorless stems that they were attached to. Taking his satchel off his back, Nortis began to extract the plants from the rocky ground, using a special gardening tool that he had engineered in conjunction with Wudas. The Summit Flowers came out rather slowly, having been created by the Great Beings long ago with strong, weather resistant structures, and their roots stretched deep into the poor soil that covered the plateau. Nearly a half an hour passed before Nortis managed to collect a suitable number of flowers, and in the process he had tired himself out quite a bit.

Taking his usual break before climbing back down the mountain, Nortis sat down and gently pulled his mask off his head. He smiled faintly as the cool breeze blew across his face, imaging the commotion that would have rung out if he had removed his mask in the streets of Vorza. This kind of behavior was considered to be especially rude in the public square, and most Zatoran rarely took their masks off in any place or situation. Next, he reached into his satchel, pulling out a metal canister of water with a cloth strap tied around it. Popping the lid off, he took a long drink from the canteen, making sure to hold it by the organic strap. The liquid was cool and refreshing, despite the fact that the canister's metal exterior was blazing hot. It was only the Molana marble interior that prevented the water inside from warming up – a refrigeration technique that the Zatoran had used for centuries.

After drinking his fill, Nortis reached into his satchel again and extracted a small, spherical object. Bagoka fruit, he thought happily. My favorite. Lifting it up to his mouth, he started to take a bite. Before his teeth touched the fruit, however, something caught his eye. Far above the Fizimune plateau, he saw what looked like a jagged cave hollowed of the mountain directly behind the one he was standing on. This was unusual – there were plenty of caves in the Huyaza mountains, but none as rough looking as that one.

That's odd, he thought. Why did I not notice this before? Deciding that his lunch would have to wait, he put his mask back, packed up his satchel, and headed across the plateau. Slowly and carefully, he followed a narrow ledge around the mountain, and then began climbing back down the other side. As he climbed down, the distance between the mountain he was on and the mountain with the cave hollowed out of it decreased. Eventually, there was only a small divide between the two peaks, which allowed him to cross over to the other side and easily grasp the surface with his pickaxe. He began climbing again, heading towards the mysterious cave. Left foot in, pickaxe up. Right foot in, back foot in, left hand up. The rhythm continued for nearly a half hour - until finally, he reached the ledge the cave was sitting on.

It was then that Nortis's mouth dropped. He stood quietly, gaping at the disturbing sight that was before him. It was obvious now that the opening to the cave was not natural – in fact, it looked as if it had been blasted by some kind of powerful energy. Stranger yet, the cave almost immediately took a great drop down into the depths of mountain, instead of just heading back into the side. But what was most startling of all was that the cave looked to have been blasted out of very recently – which confirmed his greatest fears.

"Someone.. something, came out of here only a little while ago," he said to himself. "Perhaps even just yesterday. But what being in Mirazis could shatter through hundreds of tons of solid rock in such short of a time?"

More importantly, however, the healer now had to decide what his course of action would be. At first, he thought about heading into the cave, but that risky idea quickly left his mind. He was not an adventurer like some of the other Zatoran, and there was no telling what dangers could be inside. No, he had to head back to Vieta as fast as he could – she would know what to do with the information he had gathered.

Climbing back down the mountain as fast as he could, he reached the bottom in half the time he usually took. The guard named Unar was waiting there for him, having been assigned to act as Nortis's escort across the Urjad plains.

"Right on time, as always," Unar remarked, as Nortis jumped off the mountainside. "Which is odd, because you were climbing down a lot faster than you usually do."

"Something's come to my attention," Nortis replied, running past Unar. "Come on - we need to get back to Vorza as fast as we can."

"I suppose you won't be informing me on this matter of urgency, will you?" Unar asked, as he followed the healer back to Vorza.

"If you really want to know, then I'll tell you," Nortis answered. "But be prepared – it's not good news."

Unar laughed harshly. "What else is new?" he said. "I stopped expecting good news after the Acolytes died. We all did."

"Speak for yourself," Nortis replied, and he reluctantly began telling Unar about what he had seen. It would be a pain to tell the whole story over again to Vieta, but there was far more at stake than just a little discomfort. With Rahi rampaging for no reason, mysterious guardians appearing out of nowhere, and now caves being hollowed out of mountains in mere days, he had a bad feeling that something big was about to happen in Mirazis.

Miro franticly scurried around his hut, picking up books and scrolls and tossing them to and fro. Vieta and the three guardians of Mirazis watched silently, waiting for the green-armored Zatoran to find what he was searching for. They had come to his hut a while ago with their questions, fully expecting that it would take time to get the answers that they needed. But, even with that preconceived notion, it was getting rather tiring to look at the chaotic mess that Miro's home had become.

Finally, with a cry of triumph, the scholar picked up a red book and brought it over to his desk. He motioned for the others to come closer. "I noticed this prophecy weeks ago when I was just beginning to formulate my theories on the Acolytes' fall," Miro explained. "I didn't think much of it then, but now that you three are here, it's bound to have far more significance." Miro flipped through the chapters of the worn book for several seconds, eventually stopping on a page with a colorful illustration at the top.

"Yes, here it is," Miro said. He began to read the prophecy out loud: "When the sun begins to fall over the peaks of despair, and the great evil is awakened from its slumber, the heroes of Mirazis will be revealed. The elements shall be at their very command, numbered through the ages. But only if they unite shall the darkness be defeated– and if not, a great shadow shall fall upon the land."

Vieta shook her head in annoyance. With the time spent as Miro's friend, she had gained the understanding that nearly every ancient prophecy was vague and riddle-like. And she hated riddles. "So, what does it mean?" she asked slowly, trying to hide her frustration.

"Well, I'm not quite sure yet, but I have some ideas," Miro replied. "The sun falling over the peaks of despair obviously refers to the death of the Acolytes. The great evil most definitely is whatever caused them to fall. And the heroes seem to refer to you, great guardians."

"Seem to?" Luha asked. She had only recently met the three-legged Zatoran scholar, but she already had figured out that it was unusual for him to not be completely certain about something.

"Well, yes, but there's a problem," Miro continued. "You see, there are only three of you – but there are a total of six elements. You three command the elements of Protodermis, Tar, and Storms, but there are three other elements as well – Lava, Crystal, and Acid. This would lead me to believe that this part of the prophecy may not be completely fulfilled yet."

The three guardians winced in surprise. Even Vieta, who had been finding it hard not to drift off, was nevertheless startled at the words of her friend. "Wait," she said, "You mean that there may be more heroes to come?"

"In a word, yes," Miro replied. "That is in fact what the illustration at the top of this page probably refers too." He moved his finger over six small circles, each with several runes and a symbol contained inside. "As you can see, each one of these colored circles refers to a different element. The red one stands for Lava, blue for Protodermis, green for Storms, white for Crystal, black for Tar, and finally the brown one for Acid. Of course, you might conclude from this that a Zatoran's armor color refers to his or hers respective element as well, and you'd be right…"

"Okay," Luha interjected, scanning the prophecy. "But, what about the other 6 symbols – the ones on the other side?" She pointed to the row of circles on the opposite page, which were written in shades of ink that were similar to but also different from the first six symbol's colors.

Miro frowned. "That is the part I'm most confused about," he replied. "I do know that they are definitely the six forces of nature."

Ebsmod raised an eyebrow. "Six…. Forces?" he remarked, trying to understand the scholar's words. "You mean elements, right?"

"No, not at all," Miro answered, surprising the guardian of Tar. "The six forces of nature are far more powerful than mere elements. They are not just substances that can be found in Mirazis – they are defining parts of our universe that control the actions of the natural world. They are called Heat, Moisture, Poison, Frost, Tremors, and Power."

Jorvak, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke. "Um, so, why are they on the drawing?" he asked. "The other circles, I mean. I'm kinda confused about this whole prophecy."

"As I said, I am too," Miro replied. "You see, judging from their location on the illustration, I'd say that they seem to refer to some kind of evil you will have to face. This makes no sense, however – because the Zatoran have known for ages that only the Acolytes have ever been able to wield the forces of nature. And now that they are dead, there is no way for any being to ever harness them… at least, I think so."

"You think so?" Vieta said suspiciously. Miro was obviously hiding something, and she would not stop questioning the scholar until she had the answer.

Miro looked down at his feet for a second, trying not to face his friend directly. "Honestly, I can't be sure at all about this one," he finally replied. "And I'm afraid I can't help you any more right now."

Vieta sighed. That was exactly what she had expected, but it didn't make her feel any better. If the wisest Zatoran in Mirazis couldn't give them a suitable explanation for the recent events, then there wasn't much hope that anyone would discover the truth. And, without the truth, there was no telling what kinds of nasty surprises were in store for her and the other inhabitants of Vorza.

"What are we doing out here?" Gasko asked angrily. "There's nothing to see but sand and dust!" Moments ago, Ska had somehow convinced the entire village to wander out into the desert at its hottest hour, all in the name of "power and glory." Most of the Exiled Ones didn't believe a word of what Ska was saying, but they had never seen the former Zatoran of Crystal so excited. They simply had to know what had drawn him into such a trance, even if it meant sacrificing what little comfort they had. Of course, this didn't mean that they were happy to be treading on scorching hot sand for what seemed like miles.

"I told you," Ska replied. "I know how we can finally get out of this dump, and I'm going to show you all."

"But, will that be so good?" the insane Exiled One named Bizor asked himself. "Going from living death here to dead death at the hand of the other Zatoran doesn't sound so nice." His head twisted for a second, and his attitude quickly changed. "On second thought, that sound pretty good right now! Cold hard death – no worries anymore, no pain, just silence and permanent unconsciousness. Oh that does sound very nice indeed."

Gakso shook his head. Bizor was a perpetual annoyance, and today was no exception. Yes, the former Zatoran of Acid really couldn't help it – having a split personality wasn't exactly something you could control – and yet it still got on everyone's nerves. But then, all of the Exiled Ones had their own "quirks" as well. For Gakso, it was his constant obsession with beating up other members of the village whenever he could, even though that had earned him absolutely nothing.

"We're here," Ska said emotionlessly, cutting off Gakso's thoughts. "Now, we wait."

"Wait?" Bizor exclaimed. "What is the point of waiting for something that probably doesn't even exist? Of course, waiting can be very good – waiting gets your mind off destructive thoughts – but then those could be beneficial too if you are able to carry out -"

Gakso slammed the insane ex-Zatoran, knocking him over. "Don't you EVER shut up?" he yelled. "Oh, wait, I forgot – you don't really do anything BUT talk our ears off."

"He has a point though – for once," an Exiled One named Hishazo said. "This little excursion into the desert may have broken the monotony a bit, but there's little evidence that what Ska related to us is factual."

Gakso sighed. Hishazo's insistence on using big words when speaking always had been a thorn in his side, especially since he always ended up stating the obvious. Of course, it didn't make him feel better about the whole situation.

"That's it!" Gakso shouted, slamming the sand with his two tails. "I've had enough of this stupidity! Ska, I'm going to give you the count of five to show us something besides this endless wasteland, and then I'll make sure that you never set foot in Krall again!"

"And neither shall you," a mysterious voice said, startling everyone. All the Exiled Ones turned around, and gasped. Standing in front of them was one of the most hideous beings they had ever seen. Walking towards them, the being brandished his curved weapons and smiled.

"And I thought you had a lot of spikes, Ska," Gakso murmured. He was in awe, as were all the other Zatoran. This being – he had power!

"What… what do you mean?" Hishazo asked the stranger, abandoning his usually advanced vocabulary.

The being smiled. "What I mean is that none of you will ever be setting a foot in this wasteland again. Yes, you poor, distraught creatures have lived here for thousands of years, without adequate resources or any peace at heart. But, I'm here to change that. I want to help you gain what you deserve: dominion over all of Mirazis. The other Zatoran have controlled this land long enough – it is your turn to rule."

The Exiled Ones stood silently for several minutes, as the being waited for a response. Finally, Gakso laughed.

"Who do you think you are, stranger?" he said sarcastically. We all know you have power – but not a single being can not hope to rebel when the Acolytes are in charge."

The being nodded his head. "True, very true," he agreed. "But that also is no longer of concern. Why don't you tell them the news, Ska?" he said, turning his head.

Ska grinned. "Guys, I have an announcement to make: The Acolytes, our cursed rulers, are DEAD."

The crowed was shocked. Gakso's eyes blinked rapidly, and Bizor was obviously having a mental breakdown. "Is this… is this true?" an Exiled One named Zivax asked.

"As real as the metal on your shoulders," the being replied. "The Acolytes are no more – and now the Zatoran of Vorza can no longer live without fear. You on the other hand will be their fear – and they will soon know who is truly in charge."

Ska grinned again. Slowly, the rest of the Exiled Ones grinned back. "So, what do we do?" Gakso asked.

"Well, first I must introduce myself," the being said. "I am Zahkraz, and these… are my brothers." Immediately, two other beings approached behind Zahkraz. They both were just as ugly – but the Exiled Ones were not afraid in the least.

"I'm Tiroz," the red being said, "and the silent one here is Eloh. We have come to make things even – and you're invited to the party."

"Indeed," Zahkraz said, turning around and walking away. "Now, follow us, Zatoran. It is time for you to face your destiny."

The Exiled Ones eagerly followed the three mysterious beings, chattering all the way. Ska was the last to go, and at first he found himself hesitating. It seemed that, even with all that had happened, he had still forgotten something.

Then, he realized what was missing. Turning around and facing the village of Krall, he cursed his former home with all his might. Then, smiling, he went after the other… Zatoran? It felt strange saying that, but he knew that it would not stay that way for long. It had taken nearly ten-thousand years, but salvation had finally come to the Exiled Ones. And when all was said and done, they would be the true rulers of Mirazis.

Chapter Eight

The Turning Point

Panting heavily, Nortis rushed across the southern Rauga plains, heading towards the village of Vorza. As he raced towards his destination, his mind was heavy with concern for his home and his people. The information he now possessed could be vital to the survival of the Zatoran, and there was no telling what could have happened in the hours that he had been gone. He didn't know who – or what – the thing that had burst out of the Huyaza mountains was, but he had a feeling that it was far from pleasant. And if it had already reached Vorza...

As his village came into view however, the healer of Crystal slowed down slightly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing had happened since he had left - the huts were still standing, the market streets were still bustling with activity, and the Ancient Tower continued to loom over everything like a mighty protector of peace. Now that he had calmed down, he realized how badly he had overreacted. There was nothing to worry about – for now anyway.

Even with the temporary assurance of safety, however, Nortis was still adamant about getting his information to Vieta. Leaving Unar behind at the southern entrance, he rushed down the streets of Vorza, and headed for the Zatoran commander's office. When he reached the fancy Molana marble building, the guard named Lamaru was there to greet him.

"Fancy seeing you coming to this part of the village," Lamaru said, speaking in her usual calm tone. "Did you just get back from your trip to Fizimune Peak?"

"I need to see Vieta immediately," Nortis said, ignoring the guard's question. "I have some very important information that I need to share with her."

Lamaru's expression did not change. "I'm afraid she's not in at the moment," she replied. "She and Luha just got back a half an hour ago, and they both immediately headed for Miro's hut. If you go there, you'll probably find her…"

"I don't think I'll need to do that," Nortis interjected. He had turned around and was pointing down the street, where Vieta was heading towards her office with the three guardians of Mirazis.

"I'm only saying that you need to look on the positive side of things," the hero named Luha was saying to Vieta, obviously annoying the Zatoran commander.

"She has a point," Ebsmod added. "You've been so angry almost the entire time we've been here. Yes, you may have experienced a lot of hardship in the last few days…"

"Yes, I have!" Vieta exclaimed. "And you three 'heroes' have not, so don't try to give me advice on controlling my own emotions. None of you have experienced anything like my village has – none of you have even had one bad thing happen in your lives yet! Oh… hello, Nortis," she said, noticing that the Zatoran healer was in her path. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

"He said he has some important information for you," Lamaru said, answering the question for him.

Vieta frowned. "Don't tell me you've seen something else strange," she said, sounding rather exasperated.

"It's a long story," Nortis replied, "and quite frankly, it's rather bizarre."

"That's what I was afraid of," Vieta answered quietly. "In that case, I think you'll need to share your story with Miro as well." Turning around, she walked away, silently signaling for Nortis to follow.

"Um, I haven't been here for long," Jorvak said, looking curiously at the spot where Vieta had been standing, "but… is she always like this?"

"Oh, yes," Lamaru said from behind the hero. "It's just part of her personality."

"Per…sonality?" Jorvak asked, turning around. "Oh, I see – that means how someone always acts. Like how you are always talking in the exact same voice, right?"

Lamaru stood in her place silently, looking slightly annoyed for the first time in memory. Something told Jorvak that he had not responded correctly to Lamaru's explanation, and he thought about asking his fellow heroes what he had done wrong. But, when he saw that they were clutching their chests in laughter, he decided otherwise. It seemed that sometimes, some questions would just have to remain unanswered.

Smiling with delight, Ska slithered over the quickly cooling sand of the wastelands of Krall, following the monstrous beings who called themselves Zahkraz, Tiroz, and Eloh. Behind him, his fellow exiles were sliding, hopping, and lumbering along towards what they all hoped was a far brighter future.

If it had just been a normal evening, he would have severely questioned his every action in the last several hours, as well as the actions of all the other ex-Zatoran around him. The pitch black of the night was just barely being penetrated by the makeshift torches that the Exiled Ones had put together, and the air was freezing cold. Worse, nighttime was the prime feeding period of all the most dangerous creatures of the Krall wastelands, and there was not telling what sorts of beasts could be stalking them. But, the mysterious visitors to Krall and their promise of freedom and power had made normal, rational thoughts vanish from his head, and there was no fear in his heart.

However, as the hours of trudging over the blistering sand wore on, the formerly distraught Exiled One had begun to feel a bit of confusion over the methods of their new leaders. When Zahkraz had first voiced his message of salvation, Ska been so excited that he had not even paused to stop and consider things more carefully. After all, the actual identity of the three mysterious beings still remained to be seen – as did their motives, talents, and powers. Although their very presence radiated power, the possibility remained they were simply very good actors. And, being a former "actor" himself, Ska knew that deception would only go so far in keeping the Exiled Ones' loyalty.

Despite this lingering fear, however, Ska was still too excited to worry much about the identity of Zahkraz and his brothers. Dreams of dominion and revenge did have a way of clouding an exile's mind, and he was certain that he would learn more about them in due time. But, there was still one matter that bothered him. For all of his newfound confidence in his newfound leaders, he wasn't quite certain how they planned to overcome the immense hurdle that was the Huyaza Mountains. Those giant peaks of grey stone surrounded Krall in every direction, and no being had ever successfully scaled their surfaces. Perhaps there was a secret passage through the western peaks, or maybe an underground tunnel that stretched underneath the rocky base. It was quite a predicament, for sure, but he was still certain that Zahkraz had a solution.

"Halt," Zahkraz suddenly ordered, jutting Ska from his thoughts. Not being used to obeying the commands of another being, it took a few more steps before he was able to stop in his tracks – and the same went for all the other Exiled Ones. Quietly, they looked around, trying to make out their location.

"You are all wondering where we have led you to, I presume," Zahkraz said to the former villagers of Krall. "The answer to this question is quite simple, my friends – I have brought you to the place where you will finally begin to vanquish your foes. Before the Zatoran of Vorza fall, however, you must face an enemy that has plagued you far longer than your pathetic counterparts in Rauga Valley ever could." As soon as he finished speaking, the brown Yahzuhk motioned to Tiroz, who walked forward into the darkness. An instant later, a huge blaze of fire erupted, piercing the darkness and revealing to the Zatoran their location.

The Exiled ones all gasped, both at the revelation that Tiroz had elemental powers and at the realization of where they were. They began whispering among themselves angrily, and their eyes began to narrow. Ska in particular, who was all too familiar with this emotion, now felt the rage boiling up in him more violently than it ever had before. For, Zahkraz and his brothers had led the Zatoran to the one place that they had hoped to never see again in their lives.

"THE CURSED WALL?" Ska shouted, echoing the feelings of all the other Exiled Ones. "Why have you brought us here, Zahkraz? Do you wish to rob us of the very hope that you have given us?"

"Why?" Zahkraz replied. "Because tonight it is time that you stop being a fearful slave to a mere object. Yes, this wall may have cursed you, but its creators are gone, and they can no longer harm you in any way – directly or indirectly. Observe, my friends."

Turning to his counterparts, Zahkraz nodded his head. In response, Eloh headed towards the Cursed Wall, touching it with his giant pincers. Calling upon the power of frost, he froze the entire surface of the towering structure with one touch of his claw. Then, Tiroz stepped forward, and unleashed a blast of incredible heat at the wall. The stone melted and fused in many places, and cracks formed everywhere.

"Tonight, Zatoran," Zahkraz said, "your fear shall finally come to an end. Witness the face of TRUE POWER!" Laughing, he held out his spiked hands, summoning the force of what looked like pure energy – and in one blast, he unleashed it upon the wall. The stone colossus shattered, sending millions of fragments of rock everywhere. With a huge rumble, it fell to the ground in one mighty swoop, leaving a huge cloud of dirt and debris in its wake. And, when the dust cleared, there was nothing left of the Exiled Zatoran's bane of existence.

With a resounding uproar, the Exiled Ones clapped and cheered. The Cursed Wall had towered over their lives for thousands of years, and now three beings had brought it crashing to the ground in the time it took to light a torch! In mere seconds, they had been given what they all had desired for so long – freedom from imprisonment, and the ability to return to Mirazis after so many years of miserable exile.

"Now, Zatoran, you have truly witnessed the ultimate fall of The Acolytes!" Zahkraz shouted. "And with it, comes the beginning of your ultimate destiny! Tonight, we shall make for the village of Vorza, and there you shall finally have what you deserve!"

The Exiled Ones cheered even louder for the Yahzuhk, holding their arms up in triumph. It had taken 10,000 years, but they finally had conquered their fears. Their days of suffering were over. Chattering happily, they marched over all that remained of the Cursed Wall, eagerly following Zahkraz, Tiroz, and Eloh.

Seeing that the former villagers of Krall were distracted with joy, Zahkraz whispered to Tiroz and Eloh. "My brothers," he said quietly, "As easily as it will be for us to conquer the Zatoran, the Exiled Ones will want to have a part in the destruction. However, you and I all know that they will not be able to fight adequately against our foes without some proper weapons."

At the words of Zahkraz, Tiroz's usual grin turned into a frown. "Am I correct in hearing this, my leader?" he questioned. "You want us to go and raid the village of Vorza, giving away the element of surprise, all for a few paltry bits of metal?"

"I suppose you could describe it that way, although I certainly did not," Zahkraz replied. "Think of it less as giving away our existence and more as giving our enemies a… warning, of sorts. Toy with them a bit, maybe slaughter a villager or two – just reveal to them a small sample of our power, all while supplying our new army with the weapons it so dearly craves."

"Well," Tiroz said, "when you put it like that… your plan suddenly sounds more logical," He grinned. "Much more logical."

Sharpening his stabbers a few times, Tiroz began to head past the leader of the Yahzuhk. "Come, my dear Eloh," he said, calling for his brother to follow. "It looks like we have some work to do…."

"So," Miro said to Nortis, flipping through a particularly worn book in his hut, "You saw a cave with jagged edges and smudge marks, about seven hundred feet above the cliff where you usually get your herbs?"

"Miro!" Vieta snapped. "Cut it out already - he's already told you that three times! What does it take for you to understand a simple description?"

Miro frowned. "I could always go to bed and study this in the morning, Vieta," he replied. "I'm feeling a slight urge to forget about

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Miro regretted what he had said. Vieta is sure to teach me a lesson now, he thought. However, Vieta's reaction was not what he expected. She stared at Miro for a while, looking fairly upset. Finally, she spoke.

"You're right Miro – I'm sorry. I'm just really tense right now, but that doesn't give me a reason to rush you. I'm your friend, not your overseer."

this for now. Maybe it has to do with the fact that you don't seem to appreciate my talents!"

Miro looked at Vieta, searching her face for a sign of sarcasm. Surprisingly, there was none. "Uh, yeah… it's, um, okay…. I guess," he stuttered – something he hadn't done for centuries. "Anyway, I've been looking over some of my oldest books, and I'm afraid I can't find anything quite resembling what Nortis has described. I'm… I'm honestly not sure what else to do, and I don't know if I'll have any sort of conclusive answer for a while."

Vieta raised an eyebrow. "What is with you recently, Miro?" she asked. "I've never seen you so unsure of things until now."

"I know, Vieta – and I don't like this at all," Miro replied. "I have such a huge feeling of uncertainty and doubt that I haven't experienced in ages. It's almost like everything I thought I knew has suddenly been thrown away and replaced with a giant wad of mystery and secrecy. And… I'm honestly a bit afraid that the answer to all of this is far worse than we could have ever imagined."

Vieta started to speak, but she cut herself off before the words could escape her mouth. She was trying carefully not to hurt her friend's feelings again, while at the same time attempting not to water down the complexity of the situation with a bunch of mushy optimism.

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out eventually," she finally replied. "You haven't let the village down yet, after all. And besides, we don't even know if Nortis's discovery is that important to our safety. It's just a hole, after all."

"Hole…." Miro suddenly muttered. "Hole…. HOLE!" Jumping up from his desk chair, he rushed over to a bookshelf on the right wall of his hut, nearly slamming into Vieta in the process. Quickly, he began scanning the shelves, pulling out books here and there.

"What is he doing?" Nortis asked Vieta

"What he always does when he's on the verge of a discovery," Vieta replied, grinning. "Found what you're looking for yet, Miro?

"I've almost… just about… GOT IT!" Miro exclaimed, pulling a blue-bordered book out from between two giant Rahi guides. Carrying it over to his desk in triumph, he sat down and began flipping through the pages.

"I had been stuck in such a huge rut of logic when I was approaching the Acolyte's prophecy about our new guardians," the scholar explained. "Early on, it references a great evil awakening from its slumber, but I had assumed for so long that it was a metaphorical term. However, now that I think about it, that wouldn't make sense in the context, especially since the vast majority of the prophecy is literal."

Stopping on a page in the book, he gestured for Vieta and Nortis to lean closer. "There," he said. "This is what I was looking for."

"What is it?" Vieta asked, looking over the page. It was mostly covered with ancient text that was indecipherable to her, but she could make out a few things on the diagram in the center. The picture depicted six holes, each with the symbol of pure evil written on them. A line jutted from each of the holes and stretched downward, connecting to what looked like twisted, evil versions of the symbols for the six forces of nature.

"This," Miro announced, "is the legend of the Yahzuhk - one of the Seven Ancient Evils that once roamed the chaotic, Pre-Acolyte Mirazis. The story goes that, long ago, they reigned supreme over the other beings of the land, using their control of the six forces of nature to destroy anyone that stood against them. They had only one master – Darkness, and it consumed them, to the point where they could no longer see the evil in their actions. But, fortunately for the peaceful inhabitants of Mirazis, the Acolytes came and triumphed over their power, locking them and the other Ancient Evils away behind great doors of metal."

Vieta's eyes widened. "So… you're saying that these Yahzuhk… they made the hole in the mountain?" she exclaimed.

"Rubbish," Nortis said. "How you got from the word 'hole' to a fantastical Acolyte myth is beyond me. This is just another ancient parable, created to teach Zatoran a lesson about the dangers of evil. Useful, perhaps, and certainly well written – but that doesn't mean you can take it at face value!"

Vieta frowned, and looked at the healer with an expression of scorn. Once again, Nortis was utterly opposed to trusting the words of anything that had been written ages ago, even though he had seen evidence of a great power only hours before. This personality trait had always gotten on her nerves, for she and most other Zatoran were far more willing to believe in things beyond their total knowledge.

Surprisingly however, Miro seemed much more willing to accept Nortis's criticism. "You have a point" he replied, "since my research has shown that the Acolytes do often speak in parables. However I know how we can make sure of our mysterious hole-creator's identity. You said that you saw smudge marks on the walls of the strange cave, correct?"

"Well, yes," Nortis acknowledged. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Miro faced the healer straight on. "Those smudge marks – they were dark brown with traces of orange, weren't they?"

Nortis stumbled back, shocked beyond belief. "How did you know…?" he mumbled.

"I know," Miro replied, "because those are the colors a blast of pure Power make when it touches the surface of something, as spoken by one of the Acolytes in a book I have on the elements."

Turning away, he sighed. "Yes, that hole was most certainly created by a blast of one of the six forces of nature - and the greatest of them all. Only a being with incredible power could hope to wield the force of Power, which leaves us with only one conclusion."

He lowered his head. "My friends, I'm afraid the tide has turned against us. The Yahzuhk, one of the Seven Ancient Evils, has returned."

Chapter Nine

Prelude to Destruction

Mokar hummed quietly, as he strolled down the streets to get his new cooking pot from the chief metal smith of Vorza. Soon, he'd be able to cook his food nearly twice as effectively, and all the Zatoran would look to meal time as the highlight of the day. Not that they didn't already do that, but it still brought a smile to his face.

To an outsider, it would have seemed that Mokar was being rather self-centered and prideful, especially considering that there were far greater things to worry about in an Acolyte-less world. And indeed, some of the Zatoran of Vorza had been making comments about "The Cook" behind his back, wondering among themselves why he seemed so oblivious to the terrible tragedy that had fallen upon them. It seemed that he was not fazed by any of the recent events in Mirazis – almost as if he did not even care at all about their former rulers.

But, inside his fairly cheerful exterior, Mokar felt greater sadness than many of the Zatoran who were secretly criticizing him. For as long as he had lived, he had attributed his gifts completely to the hands of the Acolytes, never taking even a tiny bit of credit for hiss fantastic culinary creations. The moment they had passed away, he had felt as if every ounce of his creativity had been plucked from his soul, and his work had suffered ever since then. He still cooked well, yes, but his food just lacked some of the wonderful essence that it had possessed before the Acolytes had died. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to publically moan about his shortcomings like many of the other Zatoran were about their own talents. It seemed rather pointless to him, since there was nothing that anyone could do to reverse the tragedy. So, he hid his feelings beneath a wave of jubilance and optimism, never once betraying his true emotions to his fellow villagers.

So absorbed in his fabricated optimism was the cook, that he was quite startled when something rustled in an alleyway. It sounded metallic – but not like any sort of metal he had heard before. He paused and looked to his left, expecting something to come out. But, there was nothing to be found, except for an overturned box of tools.

"Probably just a little Gretu mouse or something," Mokar said quietly. At least, he thought that was what it was – until he heard the quiet laughing and heavy breathing. "Who's there?" Mokar asked timidly.

"Oh, nobody that special, little Zatoran," the voice replied. "Just a monster that will usher in your incredibly painful death and destruction."

Mokar jumped backwards and quickly scurried in the other direction. Almost immediately he bumped into what felt like a metal pillar lined with sharp nails. He rubbed his head and looked up– and at that moment he wished he hadn't. Standing before him was the most evil looking creature he had ever seen. He was red, spiky, and had a mouth filled with rusty, jagged teeth. His eyes were red as the blood of an Ulanu bull, and they glowed brighter than even the largest torch in Vorza. This creature… he was a monster.

"Welcome to suffering," the being said cruelly. "I hope you enjoy your stay." In a flash, he knocked Mokar to the ground with a swipe of his leg. The poor Zatoran cook could do nothing except shake and whimper. The monster smiled, and lifted up one of his thin, spiked weapons, preparing to strike a finishing blow. As the dagger rose in the air, Mokar screamed, his eyes wider than a ripe Bagoka fruit.

With a quiet thump, the huge dagger plunged harmlessly into the ground, scarcely a few inches from Mokar's mask. The cook sighed a breath of relief, and began to nervously pick himself up.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry, Zatoran," the monster said, grinning madly. "I was just warming up. Now, here comes the real blow."

Mokar screamed again, as the nightmarish creature threw the dagger towards his neck. But before the red monster could plunge his weapon in, a blast of protodermis hit his armored head, throwing him nearly 50 feet.

"Leave him alone!" Luha shouted, running towards the monster with Ebsmod and Jorvak in tow. Vieta, Nortis, and Miro followed behind them, the former wielding four sickles and the latter carrying a strange book in his hands. And all around the street, Zatoran craftsmen and builders put their jobs aside and scrambled to get as far away from the ugly being as possible. They would go get help, of course, but they dared not confront this strange new arrival without any sort of combat skills.

The monster picked himself up, and turned around to face the villagers and guardians. At the sight of the disgusting being, the heroes gasped in horror, and Nortis took a few steps back.

"You don't doubt my friend now, do you?" Vieta said, looking at Nortis with an expression of anger mixed with fright.

At the words of the Zatoran commander, Ebsmod frowned. What did Vieta mean by "not doubting her friend?" Had they known that this being was going to attack – or was it just as a surprise to them as it was to him and his friends? And stranger yet, the monster that had nearly killed Mokar looked surprised as well, as he was scanning Ebsmod and the other guardians over with a face that signified he was troubled. It was almost as if this hideous creature had not expected Ebsmod and the other guardians to even exist, let alone to be ready to confront him!

Regardless, the guardians were not about shy away from confronting the "visitor" to Vorza – particularly Luha, who was beginning to feel anger building up in her heart. "Who are you?" she shouted angrily at the monster.

The spiked being slowly smiled. "Who am I?" he answered. "I am one who has been unknown to all who live in Mirazis for ten thousand years – much like you three beings are to myself. My name is Tiroz – and I am the Yahzuhk of Heat. But you… whoever you are, shall know me by a very different name." His face broke out into a devilish grin, and he brandished his pointed weapons fiercely. "I am your doom."

With those four words, Tiroz's body began to heat up, and it soon was glowing with a hazy orange energy. Ebsmod, Luha, and Jorvak were not familiar with the being's power, but they could feel the heat being drawn away from everything around the monster, and they had a good idea of what was about to happen.

"Look out!" Luha shouted. The three heroes and the Zatoran tumbled to the side as Tiroz unleashed an enormous blast of fire across the street. The wave of heat burned through several huts and fused part of the sandy ground into glass, nearly incinerating a couple other Zatoran in the process.

"That was too close!" Jorvak shouted, looking at his friends. He turned to the scholar of Vorza, who was crouching behind a pile of boxes. "Miro, how are we supposed to defeat this… thing?"

Miro started to reply, but he was cut off by the laugh of Tiroz. "You don't," the monster said, as he approached the three heroes. "You try hopelessly to stop my great power, but in the end, you fail miserably."

Luha frowned angrily. Inside, her heart panged with both concern for the Zatoran and absolute fury at Tiroz. She had only been the guardian of Vorza for a couple days, but already she felt close to the beings of Vorza. And now this… this horror, was attacking them! Attacking the very villagers she was supposed to protect! No – she would not let Tiroz hurt a single one of the Zatoran!

With a great cry of anger, Luha let her elemental power build up insider her body, unleashing an enormous blast of liquid at Tiroz. Without so much as shrugging, the fiery Yahzuhk ducked to the side and sent twin arcs of fire at the hero of Protodermis. Before they could hit him, however, Jorvak extinguished them with a blast of snowy air, and he proceeded to launch a barrage of lightning bolts at Tiroz. Again, Tiroz easily dodged them, sending blasts of fire at both of the heroes.

Now, it was Ebsmod's turn to act. Summoning all his willpower, he caused spouts of tar to erupt from the ground, which on contact with Tiroz's projectiles burst into flames. That ought to slow him down, Ebsmod thought. I doubt even a being of heat could get through that much flaming goop…

His confidence was shattered, however, when the Yahzuhk proceeded to walk straight through the fiery liquid, shrugging off the intense flames as if they were merely a tiny candle. Shaking tar off his body and weapons, he cackled with delight at Ebsmod.

"This pitiful show of control over the elements might be good enough to scare away a mere Rahi," Tiroz mocked. "But I am not a mindless beast, and my mastery of Heat is far greater than all of your skill combined!"

Snarling, all three of the heroes prepared to increase their assault on the fiery being, but their thoughts were cut off by the shouts of nearly two dozen Zatoran. The Defense Force was coming down a side street, holding a variety of weapons in their hands. Leading them was Unar, Vieta's second in command. "Hold your fire, but be prepared to attack on my order!" he shouted at the Zatoran guards.

"No, stay back!" Vieta exclaimed, waving her hands at Unar. "You're going to get yourselves killed if you don't…." But as she yelled at her fellow guards, she realized it was too late - for Tiroz had turned towards the defense force and was looking at them like a Morog bear eyed its prey.

"Bad idea, foolish Zatoran," the Yahzuhk said, activating his power. In a great rush of light and heat, the flaming tar Ebsmod had created was extinguished, as Tiroz drew the fire into his body. His armor quickly heated up to enormous temperatures, carrying a glow bright enough to overpower even the light of the afternoon sun.

"Very bad idea," he repeated, preparing to unleash the heat he had absorbed upon the nearby Zatoran guards. As Unar and his battalion attempted to retreat, Luha felt the urge to close her eyes. Although she had yet to see the affect of that much fire upon the metal of a Zatoran, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be pretty, and there was nothing she or anyone else could do to stop Tiroz.

But then, in the strangest event yet, the fiery Yahzuhk did not unleash his projectile upon the guards, but instead began to mentally will his body to cool down. In seconds, the red-hot glow of his body departed, and the village streets were once again lit only by the weak glimmer of torches. Sighing disappointedly, he turned back to Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak.

"I'm afraid this will have to do for now," Tiroz said, looking like a Rahi who had just been robbed of his morning meal. "Zahkraz does not want me to cause too much damage so early into our conflict. Oh, don't you worry – there will be plenty more destruction to come – but that must wait for another day. Take time to think about these implications, little weaklings." And with that, he walked out of the village of Vorza, leaving the Zatoran and guardians to assess their dire situation.

"Well, at least we can't say you didn't warn us," Nortis said to Miro, looking down at the ground.

"What in Nehatu's name was that thing?" Unar asked Vieta, as he and the other defense force members looked over the damage that the fiery being had caused.

"Evil, that's what," Vieta replied. "And it would have also been your demise if he hadn't backed down."

"That's what troubles me the most," Nortis interjected. "He had the power to wipe us all out, and yet he instead left without even injuring a single being in this village. Also, what did he mean by 'Zahkraz does not want me to cause too much damage?' Who is Zahkraz? Another Yahzuhk?"

"I don't know," Vieta replied, feeling a strange sensation in her mind. That name… Zahkraz… it somehow seemed familiar, although she was certain she had never once met the being who it belonged to. Looking around at her Zatoran friends, she suspected that they all were experiencing the same feeling, although it appeared that Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak were not.

"But honestly, I don't know if I want to find out," Vieta finally said. "This Tiroz nearly killed all of us – imagine how more powerful Zahkraz would have to be to order him around!"

Nobody wanted too, of course, which was why a black, four-legged guard named Kitao decided to change the subject. "I hate to interrupt my commanding officer," he said, "but someone is running down the street and calling your name, Vieta." He pointed past the huts that Tiroz had burnt to the ground, where a huge blue and yellow Zatoran was running towards the defense force with a frightened look in his eyes.

Shrugging Kitao off, Vieta and Unar ran to meet the obviously scared Zatoran. "Mishalu, what happened?" she asked, trying to comfort the villager. Mishalu was one of the newest villagers in Vorza, and as such it was the duty of the older villagers to help her adjust to living in Mirazis. Vieta in particular had great compassion for the "newcomers," as they were called, and this went doubly for ones who were scared or uncomfortable.

Mishalu looked at Vieta timidly. "I was talking to my friend Paluva over at the weapons hut when this huge white monster came and attacked us! He knocked me out almost immediately, and when I woke up he had frozen Paluva in a block of ice!" She started to cry. "What is the matter with this place? Why are all these bad things happening to us?"

"That doesn't matter right now," Unar said harshly. "And why did you have to come specifically to Vieta for help, instead of just finding the nearest villager?"

"Shut up!" Vieta exclaimed, slapping her second-in-command. "You of all beings should know how to be compassionate to the newcomers after Olan saved your hide when you were one yourself! And on that note, why are you standing around questioning her instead of going and getting Paluva out of that ice block?!"

"Uh… well…" Unar stuttered, as he stumbled back nervously. Then, without another word, he ran to assemble a group of guards, muttering about hypocrisy and unnecessary tenderness all the while.

Rolling her eyes, Vieta turned to Mishalu. "It's going to be okay," she reassured the whimpering Zatoran, putting her hand on her shoulder. "I don't know what's going on, but we'll all make it through this."

As soon as the words had left her mouth, however, she realized what a lie she had told. No, perhaps it wasn't a total fiction – after all, many of the Zatoran still had hope that teamwork and unity would help them prevail against the hardships that they were facing. What made her a liar was that, deep down, she did not share the same feelings, and acting like she did only reinforced that lack of belief.

Enough is enough, she told herself. If I don't feel any hope, than I shouldn't disguise my true feelings any longer. It's time that I stopped faking my emotions and started telling the truth to everyone – even the newcomers.

Shaking her head, Vieta looked straight at Mishalu. "I'm sorry," she told her. "I've been a fraud."

"A… fraud?" Mishalu asked. "About what?"

"About this whole situation," Vieta replied. "I've been telling you and the other newcomers one false story after another, trying my best to shield you from the realities of our situation. That ends today."

Turning away, she surveyed the wreckage that the monster named Tiroz had created. "Mishalu, in all honesty, I have no idea whether we will make it through these hardships. And inside, I fear that the village of Vorza may be living in its last days."

As the sun set over the Urjad Plains, the Exiled Ones marched on to what they were certain would be the end of all misery in their lives. Though they had only escaped Krall hours ago, they had not been as energized as they were now in their entire existence. They felt no fear, no frustration – not even a slightest annoyance – and their spirits were full with unrestrained life and vigor.

It had helped, of course, that every natural obstacle that would have blocked their path to freedom had been already taken care of by Tiroz and Eloh – who, according to Zahkraz, had gone ahead to scout out the area. The Great Divide, a nearly bottomless drop east of the Cursed Wall, had been bridged by several massive chunks of rock cut down with Tiroz's power of heat. And the River of Tar, a thick, flowing stream of black goo, had been frozen over in a section by Eloh's ice power. If they had not been told by Zahkraz, the Exiled Ones might have wondered for a while as to the source of these mysterious crossings. But, the leader of the Yahzuhk had made extra care to point out who had made it possible for them to traverse over the great obstacles, receiving much enthusiasm and awe from the ex-Zatoran.

However, despite all the wonders their new friends had done, it was not long before the Exiled Ones began to fall into even more arrogance. Their outward reactions still gave the appearance of respect and near-worship of the Yahzuhk, but deep inside their minds were beginning to view the three mysterious beings as nothing more than their personal battering ram – plowing over any obstacles in the Exiled One's way and leaving them to happily rule the remains.

Zahkraz, of course, was not worried about this in the least. To him and the other Yahzuhk, the villagers of Krall were merely a tool to be used in reshaping the land – and a little misguided egotism would not harm them in the least. Oh yes, it would reduce their motivation initially, but their thirst for revenge would soon overpower that reaction, and they would be eager to take part in remaking Mirazis in their image.

By nightfall, the Exiled Ones finally made it to the top of Rauga cliff, a rather elevated part of the Urjad plains that was located directly above Rauga valley. Down below the cliff, they could see the lights of Vorza standing out among the black night. It was an experience that brought both rage and happiness. They knew that this was where they had been betrayed, and it made their hearts shake with anger. But they also knew what was about to happen: tonight, the village would be known for debts repaid, for curses matched with slavery. Eagerly, they set up a makeshift camp, waiting for Zahkraz to explain their next move. Unfortunately for them, they did not get the answer they had hoped for.

"We wait," Zahkraz announced, inciting a mass of surprised reactions from the Exiled Ones.

"Wait?!" Gakso exclaimed. "Wait for what? It's nighttime – the Zatoran fools won't be expecting us to attack, and they won't see us until it's too late! We should strike now and –"

"Are you forgetting who you are expressing your ideas to?" Hishazo interjected. "You are speaking to a being that has the power to incinerate you in mere seconds, and you are ordering him to obey your every wishes like you are the creature with great strength!"

Gakso narrowed his eyes. Hishazo's really asking for it this time, he thought, especially since his blasted vocabulary makes everything he says sound twice as annoying! But, as he realized quickly, the well-learned Exiled One had a point, and he began to wonder whether he would escape the night with all of his limbs attached.

Seeing Gakso's obvious nervousness, and the same look on many of the other Exiled One's faces, Zahkraz smiled and dismissed the ex-Zatoran's actions with a wave of his hand. "There is nothing to worry about," he assured them. "I understand you all anxious to start tearing down the home of your enemies, but it seems that you have forgotten something." He waved his hand, as Tiroz and Eloh walked into the encampment, holding a large number of objects in their hands. "Something, perhaps, like weapons?"

"Good though-out point," Bizor said. "On the other hand, of what use are weapons if you do not have the guts to use them? But, think of the power – think of the carnage! It's all rather disgusting if you ask me."

Of course, nobody was listening to Bizor, for all of the other Exiled Ones had crowded around the Yahzuhk and were grabbing weapons from their hands. Axes, scythes, clubs, guard staffs – it was such an overwhelming variety of death-dealing objects that it overwhelmed them with near-joy.

Ska, on the other hand, was much more choosy, taking several moments to consider his options. Finally, after mulling over the matter for a while, he selected a single, small dagger as his weapon.

"A dagger?" Gakso laughed harshly, gripping the twin axes that he had chosen. "You consider yourself to be supreme over all of us, and you chose a puny little blade as your weapon?"

"Eat your mask, shugaspawn," Ska replied harshly. "Your big, clumsy axe may be good and brutal, but it only shows that you're nothing but a big pile of mindless violence."

"I'll show you mindless violence," Gakso growled, "you piece of rigorian…"

"Enough!" Eloh shouted, preventing Gakso from completing his insult. "Do you fools want to rule Mirazis, or do you just want to stand around fighting each other? Save your violence for the beings that truly deserve it, instead of wasting your energy over petty feuds!"

The sound of weapons dropping followed the white Yahzuhk's speech, as the Exiled Ones' mouths dropped in horror. It seemed that they had finally crossed his silent line of toleration, inciting a rage that they feared would soon manifest itself physically as well as verbally.

"That will do, Eloh," Zahkraz said calmly. "It seems that you all are rather tired of sitting around here doing nothing, and I believe it is time to rectify that problem."

Turning away, he faced the edge of Rauga cliff, looking down at the village of Vorza. "My friends, the time for action has come upon us. The time has come… to attack!"

At the words of their leader, the former villagers of Krall slowly regained their confidence, and their eyes began to light up with excitement. With a combination of sadistic grins and angry frowns, they picked up their weapons and began to climb down the cliff wall. Eloh had taught them a good lesson – and they would make sure to follow it to the letter. It was time for the Zatoran to pay for their crimes – and it was time for the Exiled Ones to rule.

Vieta sighed and headed for the edge of the village, as the other Zatoran headed to their huts for rest. She knew that sleep would not come to her tonight, as she was too restless from thinking about all the events of the day. And it was not just the red monster's attack that troubled her – another mystery was on her mind as well.

After she had finished talking to Mishalu, she had followed Unar and the guards to the weapons hut. By then, they had begun to chip and melt Paluva out of the ice she was encased in, using a combination of picks, drills, and extra-hot lamps. It went rather quickly considering how much ice there was – which hopefully meant that the female guard of Acid would not suffer any ill aftereffects.

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Paluva had said, after Unar had given her a warm wool blanket and asked for a description of the creature that had frozen her. "He was nearly twice as tall as me, and he looked like he was made of the very ice that he had control over. His armor was lined with jagged, crystal-like spikes, and he had two huge claws in place of hands. And his face… oh, what a horrible face! It looked like something out of one of the Acolyte parables, with its four eyes and ghastly tooth filled maw."

Yes, Vieta had thought, it sounds like this being would fit right in with the Tiroz 'fellow' we were attacked by. A giant, ugly monster with spikes, teeth, and too much power for his own good. But what troubled her more was that the guards had reported that a large number of weapons were missing from the weapons hut, suggesting that the fight in the streets been a diversion. While Tiroz distracted most of the village with his wild antics, his icy counterpart had Vorza blind. Only, what would two beings with immense power need weapons for, and why would they make such a large effort to conceal their crimes when they could have just trampled over any defenses and stolen them in plain sight? It made absolutely no sense!

"Vieta?" the voice of Luha called out, jutting the Zatoran commander from her thoughts. She looked around, and soon realized that the guardian of Protodermis was sitting on a log scarcely ten feet from her.

"What is it?" Vieta asked, not in the mood for conversation. "I thought you said to Jorvak and Ebsmod that you would be taking a rest."

"Yes, I know," Luha acknowledged. "But, after all that happened today, I suddenly don't feel very tired anymore. And, from what I can tell, you are experiencing the same problem."

Vieta frowned. "You think so?" she said angrily. "As you said, a lot has happened today. But, it's not like the commander of the entire Zatoran defense force hasn't experienced things like this before – having the greatest beings in Mirazis die and being attacked twice times in just a few days would be pretty normal fare by now, don't you think? Oh, I forgot – you haven't even been in existence longer than a few days, have you!"

Luha was puzzled. Vieta had sure been choosing some strange words to describe her thoughts lately - was her reaction called sarcasm? Whatever the name for it was, the hero of Protodermis felt that this emotion was very harsh and unneeded.

"I'm only trying to help, Vieta," she answered. "I'm… I'm sorry if I made you feel angry. I'm still getting used to this conversation thing."

Vieta stopped midway through angrily replying. Her face calmed, and her eyes softened. Then, suddenly, she burst into tears. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, as water began to run down her mask. "I just can't take this anymore! I'm tired of losing things – my guardians, my village, my life! Why is this happening?!"

"I don't know," Luha replied, going over to confront Vieta. "I'm not sure of a lot of things – I don't even really know what my role in this land really is. It would seem like the easy answer is that I'm here to protect you and the Zatoran – but it just isn't working that way. Everything in Mirazis is so… complex."

Suddenly, a faint noise made Luha's armor jump. She frantically turned her head to and fro, searching for the source. All she saw was darkness, fog, and…. "Wait," she said. "That's not fog – its dust. Something's coming towards us!"

The noise continued to grow louder. Murmurs turned into shouts, and shouts turned into screams. Finally, shapes began to burst into the moonlight. They looked like Zatoran, but every one had horrendously mutated features like tails and wings. Almost all of them held weapons, and the ones that weren't were shaking their fists with rage.

"Who are they?" Luha shouted, as she prepared to defend the village.

Vieta knew the answer, despite how illogical it sounded. "The Exiled Ones," she gasped.

Chapter Ten

Revenge of the Lost

Chaos ruled in the village of Vorza. The Exiled Ones had taken the entire establishment by surprise, and had quickly proceeded to cause mayhem in the streets. The mutated Zatoran turned over market tables, smashed walls, and attacked any villager that got in their way. Vieta had summoned a defense brigade as soon as she had seen the mob approaching, but the Exiled Ones were hardened from their centuries of harsh conditions and easily were a match for the villagers. Worse, they were so full of anger and "vengeance" that they would not even flinch when hit by all but the most powerful of attacks.

At the moment, however, Vieta was not engaging the combatants directly, but instead was defending several Zatoran who were carrying an injured villager away on a wooden stretcher. She had given command of the defense force to Unar, who had been fighting two axe-wielding Exiled Ones as she had left to protect the medical unit. Silently, she prayed that her second-in-command would be okay – which would have seemed surprising to an outsider who had watched their argument just hours earlier. But, everyone who had served under Vieta knew that, when the safety of her village was threatened, she tended to put aside any feuds she was having with fellow Zatoran, instead focusing on her unrelenting loyalty to Vorza.

"We're almost there, Muzar," one of the guards said to the injured villager, as he helped the others carry him across the streets.

Muzar, who had lost part of one of his legs and had various other wounds in his armor, did not reply, but his eyes seemed to light up slightly at the reassuring words.

"Speed up guys – he doesn't have much time!" a female guard exclaimed, as she tried to keep Muzar's leg from losing too much hydraulic fluid. She sounded especially worried to the other guards, and for good reason. Every Zatoran's body was powered by the energy-giving liquid that flowed through their bodies, but if one lost too much after being injured, their essential organs inevitably ended up shutting down.

"Why does that come as a surprise to you?" a being called out from the darkness, startling everyone. "None of you have much time left, now that we have returned!"

Vieta, who had been facing towards the other side of the village at the moment, whirled around and scanned for the source of the voice. "Alright, come out, whoever you are!" she shouted angrily. "You Exiled Ones can't hide in the shadows like some Acolyte-forsaken wraith – this is our village, and we know where to look for scum like you!"

Slowly, a figure emerged from the darkness. To Vieta's surprise, he had been standing right in the middle of the street - not hiding sneakily and waiting for a chance to ambush them, as she had thought.

"What do you want – besides destruction and violence, I mean?" she asked, looking the Exiled One over. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but he seemed more mutated than even most of the other ex-Zatoran. And yet, there was something eerily familiar about him, despite all his broken and twisted features.

"What do I want?" the Exiled One said harshly. "I want you, Vieta."

That voice, Vieta thought. I know that tone…. Then, it hit her. "Sario?" she asked.

"Ah, so you still remember me after all these years, Vieta," Ska said, with a twisted grin on his face. "It's a shame that you didn't follow me as well – or I wouldn't have to do what I'll be doing tonight. And just for the record, I go by Ska now."

Standing in front of the medical unit, Vieta silently gave the guards a signal to escape in another direction. As they hurriedly carried Muzar down a side street, Vieta watched Ska carefully. Strangely, he did not even shrug at the departure of the Zatoran, who Vieta thought he would be eager to attack.

"Okay, what's your game?" Vieta asked Ska, gripping her sickles tightly. "What do you want with me, and why are you calling yourself that dreadful name?"

Ska laughed coarsely. "You haven't figured it out already, fool?" he mocked. "Perhaps I've overestimated my old acquaintances – or perhaps you're just bluffing." He straightened his posture. "Regardless, is it not surprising that, out of all the Zatoran in this pathetic village, I would seek out the one who lead to my temporary downfall? And isn't it fitting, that after so many years of longing for revenge, I would resort to renaming myself after a slur for 'revenge minded?'"

"What do you want?!" Vieta screamed, plunging one of her sickles into the sand.

Ska's grin quickly turned into a frown, and his eyes lit up with barely concealed rage. "It's a very simple answer," he said. Suddenly, he snarled, and reached behind his back. "I want you… DEAD!" And then he struck, attacking Vieta with a dagger that he had concealed behind his armor.

At the last second, Vieta blocked Ska's blade with one of her own, skillfully matching each of his strikes with the edge of her sickle. Executing a skilled dive across the dirt ground, she snatched up her other weapon and faced her foe. "Give up, Sario," she said. "You and I both know that I have the advantage."

"You and I also know that the advantage can sway the opposite direction in mere seconds!" Ska shouted, attacking Vieta again. His slashes were large and wide, but they were effective at pushing Vieta back across the dusty road.

"Seriously Sario," Vieta said, dodging an overhead strike from Ska's dagger. "Do you honestly think you'll be able to stop the commander of an entire village's defense force?"

"Commanding positions in a peaceful village are overrated at best," Ska replied, aiming his dagger for Vieta's head. "You could face your fellow guards in mock battle a thousand times, but you'll never get as much as experience as I did in the arena back in Krall. We fought long and hard there, and there was no mercy until either someone gave up or someone was knocked out."

"Without weapons," Vieta retorted. "Or, did I wrongly suspect the Yahzuhk's actions when they raided our supplies this morning?"

Ska laughed harshly, and continued to lunge at Vieta's head. "If you mean my friends Zahkraz, Tiroz, and Eloh, then yes, they got these fabulous death-dealing instruments for us. But weapons mean nothing unless you have the skill to use them. They're only an optional accessory to true fighting skills – or a false sense of security for someone who has none. You can fight with all the weapons you want, but in the end, someone is going to have the upper hand. And we both know who has the upper hand right now."

Vieta gritted her teeth, and blocked Ska's blows with even more intensity. As much as she hated to admit it, Ska was right – although not in the way he thought. Ska did indeed have the advantage, but the reason for this strange turn of events was far from what he could have imagined. Inside, Vieta was burning with passion against the vengeful Exiled One, who seemed to have no remorse for his actions hundreds of years ago. But, as much as she wanted to hurt him, she refused to let her rage take control of her and to force her to hurt the ex-Zatoran in cold blood.

That was why Vieta could simply not attack Ska in anger. She was defending herself, blocking his every blow, but she refused to make an aggressive strike of her blade. Perhaps it was because of her sorrow, or maybe it even was because of pity, but she just could not bring herself to attack her former Zatoran neighbor. Of course, this position was hard to maintain when Ska continued to seek out her destruction.

"You just don't give up do you?" she said, dodging another swipe at her mask.

"Neither do you," Ska replied. "Of course, I would not expect someone of such high esteem to surrender to exiled trash like me – someone who doesn't adhere to precious morality and honor like you do!"

"The fact that morality and honor mean nothing to you only shows how twisted your mind really is, Sario," Vieta said back. "Twisted, and rooted in darkness."

"One being's darkness is another being's light," Ska replied. "But again, I would not expect you to understand that, you tender-headed, flat masked muzaka!"

Upon hearing the final word that Ska spit out, Vieta winced mentally, stung by the curse that he had thrown at her. Muzaka, a foul combination of the ancient words for Acolyte and rubbish, was considered to be one of the most deadly profanities a Zatoran could call someone, as it not only cursed the villager but also blasphemed the very beings that ruled all of Mirazis. Even knowing that a disgraced Exiled One had called her that terrible word, it pained her to be defamed in such a disgusting way, and she hesitated slightly in her defense.

Seeing that Vieta had fallen against his verbal attack, Ska used the advantage to get a single blow past his opponent's defense. With a great slash of his dagger, he cleaved off one of Vieta's right arms at the elbow. It flew sideways and shattered upon impact, sending metal flying everywhere. Vieta screamed in pain as hydraulic fluid sputtered out of the stump where her limb had been, and she collapsed the ground in pure agony.

Triumphant, Ska laughed and watched maliciously as Vieta convulsed on the ground, crying tears of pain. As she slowly fell into an injury-induced trance, Ska stood over her barely moving body, clutching his dagger happily.

"I can't believe you fell for the oldest trick in the book, Vieta," Ska said gleefully. "You'd think thought a tough commander like you would be able to ignore a little verbal abuse. But, I guess I did overestimate you after all." His face grew more serious, and his grip on his dagger grew tighter. "Regardless, now you understand a little better what the pain I've experienced in Krall was like. But why should I stop there? Why should I end my assault with cutting off just one of your limbs? No, I'll be doing more than that. A leg sliced off, another arm hacked off, and then you'll know how I've felt having only three limbs."

"You'll do no such thing!" a voice called out from behind Ska. Annoyed, the Exiled One turned around, expecting another guard to be rushing to defend his precious Zatoran commander. He could not have been more wrong.

Shouting a strange two-word phrase, the mysterious figure launched a great blast of green energy at Ska, which slammed into his body with the force of a ton of bricks. The impact of the blast caused him to fly 20 feet, and he slammed into a stone wall. As he struggled to pick himself up, the scholar named Miro approached with a worn book opened in his hands, and three other Zatoran guards in tow. Ska quickly departed, heading for the edge of the village, leaving Miro and the defense force members alone with their injured friend.

"Vieta?" the guard named Kitao exclaimed. "Oh no, we're too late!"

"No, she's not gone yet," Miro said. "Get her to Nortis before she loses too much fluid – we have to save her!"

"What about you?" Kitao asked, as he and the other Zatoran picked Vieta up.

"What do you think?" Miro answered. "I'm going after Ska. He may have injured my friend, but so help me, I'll make sure that he pays dearly for his actions."

He cradled his book, and rushed off after Ska. "The Acolytes may be gone," he said, "but their magic still lives in the land of Mirazis."

Holding up one of his giant tironium gauntlets, Olan blocked a swing of an Exiled One's spiked club. The club smashed into his armored hand, barely even inflicting a scratch on his weapon. Blocking several more swings, he swung his gauntlet past the ex-Zatoran's defense and smashed it into his mask, knocking his foe unconscious.

One down, a zamulion more to go, Olan thought, gritting his teeth. I haven't faced odds like this since I saved Unar from those Milanaz worms two hundred years ago. Doesn't help that I haven't had any real fighting practice since I quit the guard around that same time, either.

A cry for help jutted the former defense force member out of his thoughts, and he turned around to see who had called for assistance. Nearly 50 feet away from him, a huge Exiled One was pushing the guard named Paluva back up against a wall. The ex-Zatoran was not carrying any weapons, but the giant's enormous claws would be plenty enough to give life-threatening injuries to the overpowered female guard.

Bellowing, Olan entered one of his famous berserker-charges, covering the ground between him and the Exiled One in seconds. Swinging his gauntlet, he hit the giant in the back, knocking her aside and allowing Paluva to escape.

"You've come a long way from being the gentle, lovesick cooking assistant I once knew, haven't you Krisoka?" Olan said, as the giant picked herself up.

"I could say the same thing about you!" the giant shouted back, charging at Olan. "What happened to Olan, the friend to all Zatoran and lover of all things peaceful?"

"I tend to forget about my normal way of life when my friends are in danger," Olan replied, blocking Krisoka's claws. "And if you expect me to be peaceful to you when you're trying to kill one of my fellow Zatoran, then you really have lost it, Krisoka."

"Firstly, I don't go by Krisoka anymore," the ex-Zatoran said, scratching madly at Olan's gauntlet. "Or, haven't you heard that I'm called Golga now? Secondly, I never lost my mind – although some of the others did – but I did lose plenty else in Krall!"

"Because of your own actions," Olan asserted, landing a blow upon Golga's shoulder. "Your 'dear friend' Hiroto was a traitor, and by blindly following him to that wasteland you gained nothing but pain. Why would you, or any sensible being for that matter, make such an insane choice?"

"Because I LOVED HIM!" Golga shouted, finally managing to strike Olan. "And any 'great being' that would punish me for that has no place as the ruler of Mirazis!"

Cradling his arm in pain, Olan slowly picked himself up from the ground. Stepping forward, he faced Golga right in the mask. "No, Krisoka, you're wrong," he asserted. "True love consists of far more than just amorous feelings. True love is far more complex, far more multi-faced – and true love does not ignore someone's crimes against Zatoran-kind!"

Golga did not respond, but simple screamed and increased her assault against Olan. But even as the former Zatoran swung her claws with all her strength, her foe could not help but feel pity for his former friend.

So, it's finally come to this, Olan thought, as he matched Golga's blows with ones of his own. I've tried to reason with you, I've tried to correct you, but you've closed yourself off to the truth. And I'm deeply, deeply sorry.

"Hold your positions!" Luha shouted, as she fired a blast of protodermis at one of the approaching Exiled Ones. She, Ebsmod, Jorvak, and a small group of villagers were attempting to block the mad exiles' advance into the village. She had been told by Vieta that protecting the central tower was crucial to Vorza's survival, although none of the three heroes knew why. But, they had a duty to the Zatoran, and at this time it was best if they just followed the advice of someone more knowledgeable.

This wasn't an easy task, however. Besides the fact that the entire village had been caught by surprise, they also were outnumbered. Recently, Vieta had informed the three heroes about a ritual that the village constantly practiced. Every month, half of the villagers took a journey to a cave located near the base of the Huyaza Mountains. This cave was known as the Cavern of Cleansing Waters, and it was filled with pools of sparkling liquid. It was there that the Zatoran healed any impurities, injuries, rust, or other problems with their components. The village took turns traveling up to the pools, but the attack by the ferocious red being had halted preparations for the latest journey to the cave. Vieta had proposed holding off indefinitely, but it quickly became apparent that they had no choice except to make the trip, and the convoy of villagers had reluctantly departed for the Cleansing Waters several hours ago.

Now, with half of their numbers gone, including much of the defense force, Luha knew the Exiled Ones had the advantage. True, the three heroes had incredible powers, but they were still inexperienced at using them, and thousand of years in the deserts of Krall had made the ex-Zatoran resistant to almost anything. Vieta had also sent out her fastest scout to attempt to bring the other villagers back, but it would take time before he reached the convoy, and far more to travel back to Vorza. Regardless, it was quickly becoming a losing battle, and Luha realized that they were running out of time.

"This is not working!" the blue-armored guardian yelled to Ebsmod. "We need some sort of plan to help even out the odds!"

"Tell me about it," Ebsmod replied. "I've been hurling blobs of tar at these beings for ages, but they just pick themselves up and keep coming! It's like their anger is giving them the power to resist anything we throw at them!"

"Luha, you're the smartest one here," Jorvak said, as he summoned a strong windstorm to hold several Exiled Ones back. "I heard what you did during that battle with that Torgix Rocksnake – can't you think of something for this situation too?"

"That was just one target," Luha replied. "There's so many attacking us right now that I can't focus! Besides, we're not attacking a mindless Rahi beast – we're attacking former friends of our allies. Vieta would never want us to endanger their lives, so we have to be careful not to use our powers too strongly!

"Try telling that to them!" Jorvak shot back, dodging a spear thrown at his chest. He tumbled to the ground and pulled a villager along with him, protecting the Zatoran from a hurled dagger.

Luha frowned. She was caught between two sides of her personality, which mirrored the rather unpredictable nature of her element. One was fierce and wanted to get the job done as quickly and as easily as possible, much like the violent spouts of protodermis that had become one of her trademark attacks - but the other was too gentle to risk the death of another being, like the peaceful rains of liquid that she was also able to summon. The Exiled Ones had no such "flaw" – they only knew anger. And perhaps… that could be used to Vorza's advantage.

"Retreat to the west side of the village!" Luha ordered. Ebsmod and Jorvak looked at her strangely, obviously confused about their fellow guardian's sudden words.

"The west side?" Jorvak replied, "That will take us AWAY from the tower, Luha! We're supposed to be defending it, not letting the Exiled Ones get closer to it!"

"Look, I know it sounds strange," Luha said, "but I have a plan. Just follow my lead!"

Jorvak turned to Ebsmod, waiting for a response. The black-armored hero slowly nodded his head. After a moment, Jorvak sighed and signaled for the Zatoran defenders to pull back.

The Exiled Ones screamed in anger as their enemies retreated. "Cowards!" several of them shouted. Immediately they gave chase to the villagers of Vorza, yelling insults and curses.

Gakso, one of the leading attackers, was not pleased at this sight. "You fools!" he yelled at his fellow ex-Zatoran. "They've left the Ancient Tower undefended, and now you're chasing after nuisances instead of tearing down the sacred beacon of hope in this village! Get back here and stay focused, you koborks!"

"Yes, come back," Bizor shouted. "We need your help – or maybe we don't. Now we can take all the glory for ourselves – yes that sounds good. But, maybe you have the right idea, and this is the wrong way to carve ourselves into history -"

"I wasn't asking you, smaturg for brains," Gakso answered angrily. "But if you want to go with them, fine – I'll destroy the sacred tower myself!" Without another word, he ran towards the center of the village.

Bizor, who once again was caught between two totally different options, wrestled with his twin personalities for a while, trying to decide which one had the better idea. His form wrangled and twisted, and his mask scrunched up in deep concentration. Eventually, however, he reached a decision.

"Wait for me!" he shouted at Gakso, stumbling over rocks as he haphazardly chased after him. It was a comical sight, to be sure, but with all the ruckus and violence taking place in the village, it would have been very hard for any villager of Vorza to laugh at the insane ex-Zatoran. And as much as the Exiled Ones hated Bizor, they were far too busy to laugh at the pitiful sight he was displaying. Busy, with chasing beings which they thoughtdeserved far more ridicule and shame. It was only fitting then, that in the moment when Bizor was acting most pathetically, there was no one to watch him be the sickly creature that he was. He was truly alone – without anything but his two battling personalities to keep himself occupied.

Ska bounded over rooftops, heading towards the medical center. He figured that the other Exiled Zatoran were already trashing the Ancient Tower by now, but he did not care. He had failed to complete his revenge – and he would not make the same mistake a second time.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice called out. Ska looked over his shoulder, already sure of who it belonged to. Just as he expected, Miro was standing on the building right behind him, holding one of his tattered books in his hands.

"Miro? Hah, I never thought you were the one for combat," Ska mocked. "Stay away before I get angry and turn your head upside down."

"Oh, one would think not," Miro replied, ignoring Ska's threat. "After all, it's not every day you see a scholar fighting one who is far more experienced in hand to hand combat than the average Zatoran." A faint smile appeared on his face. "But… times have changed, and so have the rules of battle."

"I'll show you some rules of battle, fool!" Ska yelled in anger. Quick as a flash, he flicked his tail like a whip, which launched him into the air and over the gap between the two buildings. Drawing his dagger, he prepared to plunge the hydraulic fluid-soaked weapon into the scholar's heart. Miro simply frowned and muttered some strange words.

"Myzasor Kramata" he said. As soon has he had recited the mysterious phrase, a stream of green energy streamed from his heartlight and formed a circular shield around his body. Ska's eyes widened as he slammed into the shield. He flew backwards and fell down to the alleyway. Miro followed, reciting more ancient words. This time, energy formed under his feet, which slowed his fall and gently set him down near Ska's body.

"For thousands of years the Zatoran have only known me by my predictions and musings," Miro said quietly. Ska began to rise, but Miro quickly summoned a beam of energy which pinned down the Exiled One's body before he could make a move. "What almost no one realized was that I am not just a follower of the Acolytes prophesies, but of their magic as well. The ancient words of our former rulers have for years been one of my greatest studies. Long before they passed away, I began to practice using their power through the reciting of the 527 spells, in hopes that my training would some day come of use. Now that our rulers are gone, I knew that the time had come for me to shed my scholarly exterior and take an active role in defending my village from threats like you."

"Threats?" Ska muttered, shaking angrily. "I'm more than a threat, Miro. I'm your doom!" In an instant, Ska sprang up and knocked the book of spells from the scholar's hand. It flew down through a window and disappeared into one of the huts.

"Now, let's see how you can handle me without your precious book, scholar!" Ska shouted.

Miro smiled. "Oh, I don't need it to fight you, Ska. Before I even came out here to defend my village, I transferred the power of the book into my body. It now serves only as a visual aid – and the real power comes from my mind."

"Soon, you won't even have a mind," Ska replied, dagger at the ready. "Or a soul."

"We shall see, Ska," Miro said, taking on a defensive position. "We shall see."

At the top of Rauga Cliff, the Yahzuhk quietly observed the brawl in Vorza. Zahkraz had long ago connected himself with the energy signatures of the valley below, and he had not spoken since. Eloh and Tiroz were having a harder time discerning what was happening in the village, but they could make out enough detail to know that something was wrong.

"They're not doing their job," Tiroz said to Zahkraz. "The Zatoran are leading our new army on a wild Rahi chase. Our enemies have quickly figured out that their one advantage over us is speed. The Exiled Ones' mutated features hinder their movements, allowing the villagers to gain the upper hand."

Zahkraz sighed, not moving from his position. "Yes, I know, Tiroz. And it does not worry me one bit. The Exiled Ones are not the end to all problems – they were just one possible way to bring the land of Mirazis under our rule. Still… it has quickly become apparent to me that they will not be enough. And you know what that means, don't you?"

Tiroz frowned. "Of course, great leader. And that knowledge normally would please me very much – except that I have other things on my mind right now."

"Other things, Tiroz?" Zahkraz asked. "Perhaps you could enlighten me."

"Don't be coy with me, my leader," Tiroz retorted. "You know very well what I'm upset about. Or, did the dents on my armor not give you a clue?"

Zahkraz smiled. "Ah yes," he said. "After facing those mysterious beings in the village, you've found yourself wondering why I did not warn you about their existence."

"Correct," Tiroz replied. "So, care to enlighten me?"

For the first time in a while, Zahkraz's eye's narrowed. "I suppose I shall have to, seeing as your loyalty to me has been shaken for the moment. Needles to say, the answer is very simple: I did not know of their existence until now."

Tiroz's jaw dropped. "But… how could you not, great leader?" he exclaimed. "Are you not the being who claims to be so in tune with Darkness, the force that grants ultimate knowledge to all who wish it?"

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," Zahkraz replied. "But listen to my words carefully: I said I did not know of the elemental beings' existence until recently, but I never said I didn't suspect that they might show up. And I did suspect this very thing – however, I felt that until I could be sure of it, there was no point in distracting you from your mission. After all, we both know that these beings don't really scare you, but we do know that you would find it rather obsessive to pursue their destruction at an inappropriate time. Am I right?"

Tiroz smiled sheepishly. "Yes, great master… you do have a way of figuring things out rather quickly. My apologies."

Zahkraz slowly returned the smile. "Good, then this matter is settled," he said. "Now, onto other matters. As I said before, the Exiled Ones are not cutting it as far as our plan goes. They have had their fun, but now it is time to truly achieve what we came here for."

Disconnecting himself from the energy of Vorza, Zahkraz opened his eyes and motioned for Tiroz and Eloh to follow. "Come, my brothers. The Zatoran have already gotten a taste of our wrath, but now the time has come for them to experience it in full. Soon, they shall know the true power of the Yahzuhk… and know the true power of doom."

Chapter Eleven

Revulsion

As the Exiled Ones madly pursued the Defense Force and the three elemental guardians around the northern edge of Vorza, another battle still raged on at the opposite side of the village. There, among the broken market tables and shattered supplies, Golga continued her assault on Olan, who was doing all he could to stop the ex-Zatoran's angry onslaught. It seemed that the battle would never end, but Olan knew that one of them would eventually tire. The problem was, he had a bad feeling that it would be him.

Holding his tironium gauntlets up, the former Zatoran guard skillfully blocked a barrage of particularly vicious claw swipes from Golga. As soon as the female Exiled One relented, he lunged forward and grabbed part of her arm. Ignoring the pain from the spikes on her limb, he flipped Golga over with all of his might, knocking her into a pile of crates.

"You can stop already, Golga," Olan said, covering the spot where his foe's spiked armor had penetrated his metal hand. "Even you should be able to realize that all of this is accomplishing nothing."

"Oh no, it's accomplishing something, Olan," Golga retorted, picking herself up in an instant. "It's giving you pain!" Quick as a flash, she resumed her attack, launching another series of clumsy but powerful claw swipes at Olan's head.

Groaning, Olan continued to block his foe's attacks, using his gauntlets as both shields and as battering rams. As he blocked her unrelenting attacks and attempted to launch some of his own, he wondered to himself just how he had ended up in an almost completely defensive position. Despite having a similar build as Golga, he knew he was the stronger and more skilled combatant. On the flip side, his foe's mutations had shrunken and weakened her body – and yet she both attacked with unnatural ferocity and seemed to have an endless supply of energy. All of this seemed to be tied to Golga's angry disposition, and Olan feared that she would not tire out until she finally calmed down. Which, as of now, didn't seem even the least bit possible.

"How does giving me pain make anything better?" Olan shouted, trying to find another opening in his foe's assault.

"I'll tell you why," Golga replied, striking Olan's gauntlet so hard that it shook his armor. "Because by doing this, it gives you a taste of what I've felt the last two centuries!"

"As I said, Golga, how will that accomplish anything?" Olan insisted. He lunged forward, trying to slam the Exiled One in the face with his gauntlet.

"Because then you'll know why I feel this way," Golga answered. "Then you'll know why I rebelled against the Acolytes you hold so dearly to your heart. Then you'll know why they are the absolute scum of the universe!"

Olan frowned. "Says the one who is participating a hydraulicthirsty assault on a peaceful village! You call the Acolytes scum, but a violent being like you would not know the difference between good and evil."

"And why would you know anything about good and evil?!" Golga screamed. "You, the Acolyte-trusting Zatoran who has never had anything bad happen to him! The Rahi you faced as a guard member don't even compare to the torture I've faced in Krall. And the sadness that you felt over the peaceful death of your old mentor can't even measure up to the sadness I've experience knowing that love had been snatched away from me! You know NOTHING, Olan!"

Olan did not answer, but he continued to block Golga's blows with his shaking hands. They weren't shaking because they were tired, however. No, they were shaking because deep down inside, he realized that his foe was right. And it was a scary revelation indeed, for Golga was the last being he would have trusted in the matter of morality.

Before he could ponder the matter further, however, something caught his eye. At the top of one of the rows of Zatoran buildings, green energy was exploding in various patterns and shapes. To most onlookers, the explosions would have seemed to be totally random and rather mysterious, but Olan knew instantly that it was no phenomenal occurrence.

Miro's fighting someone with that magic of his, Olan thought. When did he get the idea to become some crazy mystical warrior? He's going to kill himself before he even….

But, as he tried to focus on both combat and his friend, Olan's tiring body finally cracked, and he let down his defense for just a fraction of a second. It was all it took, however, for Golga to land a claw on her foe's face, knocking him out cold.

As she watched the hydraulic fluid trickle from Olan's mouth, Golga looked down upon the former Zatoran commander with an expression of triumph mixed with resentment. "Now you know, Olan," she said. "Now you realize what pain truly feels like."

Ska rolled sideways, dodging a blast of green energy hurled from Miro's hand. He sprang forward and delivered a kick to the scholar's chest. Miro gasped and clutched his armor, giving Ska the opportunity to draw his dagger.

"Gatoro Kinaha!" Miro shouted, as Ska attempted to plunge his blade through the scholar's body. A wave of green energy blasted the Exiled One, knocking him backwards into the dusty road.

Ska was infuriated. He had had nearly a dozen chances to end the annoying scholar's life, but so far he had only succeeded in giving Miro a few dents in his armor. How could he be losing to someone like him? Whatever the reason, Ska was becoming increasingly angrier and fiercer, and it would only be a matter of time before he lost his sanity to the rage of combat.

"I told you Ska, the rules of battle have changed," Miro said, brandishing a dagger made of green energy.

Ska growled. "No - the only thing that has changed is my attitude, scholar! Before, I was just out for a kill – but now I intend to make your last moments of life as miserable as possible!"

In an instant, Ska had smashed his fist into Miro's mask, knocking it off into the sand. Before the scholar could respond, he had kicked it away, sending over the edge of the hut they were standing on.

Normally, losing his mask would not have been a problem for the scholar. All Zatoran needed the metallic face coverings they were created with to stay awake, as they supplied the villagers with a never-ending source of energy. It usually took hours for any mask-less Zatoran to fall unconscious, though, and that rarely ever would pose any danger to their lives. However, the Acolyte magic had exhausted much of Miro's internal energy, making his mask far more crucial to his survival. He was already beginning to feel tired, and it would not be long before he fell into a motionless sleep.

This, of course, only made Ska more eager to finish his assault before his enemy became unconscious. "It's over, muzaka," he cursed, preparing to strike a final blow with his dagger. "Your time is up, and so is your life!"

Miro said nothing. He was quickly losing the life force needed to stay awake, and there was almost nothing he could do to prevent Ska from slitting his throat. Nothing, except mutter two strange words.

"Torvos Eekama," Miro said, his voice barely audible over Ska's angry ranting. A great flash of light erupted from the scholar's heartlight, and his hand began to glow with blue energy. Ska flinched and backed away slightly, muttering under his breath. The scholar was obviously trying to defeat him with one last spell – but there was no chance that a single blast of magic could defeat him. One thing bothered him, though: why was his hand glowing blue and not green?

Then, the answer hit Ska – or rather, it appeared to him, as something began to form on Miro's weak hand. Then, he could only stare in sheer horror as his foe's palm glowed with a symbol of pure devastation: two E's connected with a single line. Somehow, Miro had summoned the energy of Pure Evil!

Even with all of the rage that was stored up in his heart, Ska still shivered at the sight of that forbidden, deadly symbol. But, as Miro began to float up in the air, he realized he had to act quickly, or the scholar would incinerate him with the power of Pure Evil. In one quick strike, he plunged his dagger into the scholar's heart, a blow that would have killed even the strongest Zatoran in an instant.

But it was already too late, for the energy of Pure Evil had already taken too great a hold upon Miro. The blow of Ska's dagger did nothing except envelope the Exiled One in the same energies that his enemy was already surrounded in. The ex-Zatoran screamed as the forbidden power burned his very essence, clawing at his body like the flames of the hottest metal forge in the universe. The blue light expanded for several more seconds, uttering a shrill whistle – and then exploded in a supernova of pure energy.

When all was silent, Ska was lying on the ground in agony, and nothing remained of Miro the scholar.

Gakso quietly approached the Ancient Tower, watching for any Zatoran guards. He was prepared to make a mess of the sacred structure, which he knew would carve his name in legends as the conqueror of Mirazis. Behind him, Bizor hobbled along on his pointy feet, arguing with himself. Good old Bizor, Gakso said to himself. If anyone comes out, you'll keep them distracted, while I sneak in and make a name for myself.

Laughing in his head, Gakso snuck around several buildings and approached the gateway. Seconds later, he heard the sounds of automated defense drones rushing to take out Bizor. As he had predicted, the moron Zatoran had drawn the attention away from the tower, leaving it open for him to approach the ancient building unhindered.

Drawing his axe, he rushed towards the doors of the tower and stuck his weapon in the lock. The door began to creak open, its copper plated wood gleaming in the light of a nearby torch

"Well well, what do we have here?" a voice called out. It had been hundreds of years since he last heard any Zatoran from Vorza speak, but Gakso instantly recognized it as the voice of Wudas, the chief Zatoran engineer.

"It seems that the shadows have truly claimed you, old friend," Wudas said quietly.

"FORMER friend," Gakso replied harshly. "You have reason to fear me now, for I intend to get inside this tower at any costs, even if it means I must kill someone who I used to call an ally." He scratched his head, pretending to be in deep thought. "Oh wait, but you were never really an ally to begin with, were you? None of the Zatoran of Vorza were, otherwise you would have stood by us instead of being good little subjects to the miserable Acolytes!"

"Keep on thinking that, Gakso," Wudas retorted. "It makes it easier for me to capture you." Quick as a flash, he stepped from the shadows and fired a blast from a strange silver launcher. The energy from the blast encircled Gakso, forming a tight bond around his body.

"What is this?!" Gakso shouted. Already, he was beginning to feel tired.

"I call it a motion siphoner," Wudas explained. "It fires a blast of absorptive energy that encircles a target and feeds off any kind of movement. Using that energy, it creates a gas that plunges a being into unconsciousness. Basically, it means you have to stay completely still in order to not fall asleep."

"Hah, how hard can that be, now that you've told me how that thing works?" Gakso mocked. Did the engineer really think that he was going to capture anyone by giving away his secrets?

"Well, it's easy enough that I wouldn't have explained the functions of my weapon without formulating a secondary plan," Wudas continued. "I call it: the rock." In an instant, Gakso had picked up a large stone and hurled it at Gakso's head. It clunked off the Zatoran's mask and knocked him out. Wudas then waved his hand, summoning two more defense drones to his side.

"Take him and dump him outside the village," Wudas told the drones. They complied, picking him up with their metal limbs. The mechanic watched as they carried the motionless Exiled One away from the tower.

"Well, that's one small victory for Vorza," he said. "I just hope things don't get far worse."

"I hate to say it, Luha, but this has just gotten far worse," Jorvak shouted. Turning around, Luha looked in the same direction as her fellow guardian and gasped. Standing on the roof of one of the nearest buildings was the red monster that had attacked their village! Worse, he was not alone – for two other horrors had positioned themselves on top of the same building. One was white and had four eyes, and the other was brown and glowed with energy.

This was a disaster. Luha's strategy of leading the Exiled Ones on a chase through the village had been actually giving the guardians and Zatoran the advantage, since it had been allowing them to draw the ex-villagers away from the most important structures in Vorza. Then had just come full circle around the village, and it seemed that their foes were finally starting to tire now that they had re-arrived at their original place of conflict.

But, with the appearance of Tiroz and his equally ugly accomplices, it was clear that the battle was quickly going to turn in the Exiled One's favor. Had he not have mysteriously let down his assault, the lone Yahzuhk could have likely beaten all three of the elemental guardians and the entire Zatoran defense force easily – so how would they even hope to face him and his brothers at the same time?

The brown being on Tiroz's right, who looked rather smug, answered that question for them. "Zatoran, heroes, and anyone else who wishes to keep their heads," he shouted down at the village defenders, "Your days of blissful existence are over. "I am Zahkraz, and we, the Yahzuhk, are the new rules of Mirazis. As you know very well by now, our power is far greater than yours, and far greater than any other being left in this universe. Though you may feel that you have a chance at defeating us, it is hopeless to attempt to resist, for any brave resistance will only result in us increasing our assault upon your pathetic village. Surrender now, or lose your homes, your possessions, and everything else that you call dear."

Luha gritted her teeth. The odds were against all who dwelt in Vorza, but she knew inside that no good being would ever bow down to the power of these evil monsters. "No!" She shouted. "We would be going against all we were created for as the new guardians of Mirazis by bowing to you! We would not even deserve the title of heroes!"

"Yeah," Jorvak added. "Besides, by just surrendering and letting you take this place over, we'd be giving away everything that the Zatoran hold dear to their hearts anyway – namely their freedom."

Zahkraz smiled. "Of course, of course," he said quietly. "I would never expect anything of the sort from 'honorable' beings like yourselves. And that, is why this day signifies the end of your lives, both figuratively and literally." Flexing his spiked arms, the being leaped off the building and slammed his feet into the ground. His accomplices followed suit, and the three of them began to approach the defense group.

"Jorvak! Use your wind power!" Luha shouted. Jorvak nodded his head and summoned a narrow funnel of wind, which he intended to send into the Yahzuhk. However, instead of going right into them, it stayed fairly stationary and kicked up all the dirt on the road, which formed a cloud of dust between them and the Zatoran.

"Run!" Ebsmod shouted, realizing that Jorvak had accidentally bought them a few seconds of time. But, as the defense force began to retreat, he realized that those few seconds would not be enough. For, within the cloud of dust, the sound of energy building up could be heard, and he knew that the sound was not one of peace and tranquility.

Ducking their heads, the heroes and Zatoran scattered as a huge blast of pure power incinerated the ground where they had just stood. Before they could react, the three Yahzuhk charged out and attacked the group of defenders.

"Feel the cruel blades of Tiroz!" the red Yahzuhk yelled, as he plunged both of his stabbing weapons into one of the Zatoran. The villager collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

"Torma! NO!" the guard named Paluva shouted, as her friend died at the hands of the red monster. Not even hesitating for a moment, Tiroz responded to her cry by blasting the guard with a wave of heat, turning her into a pile into a pile of ashes.

"Is this all you can do?" Tiroz mocked, facing two other guards. This fight was a proverbial rahiwalk compared to what he had faced millenniums ago.

Meanwhile, the brown Yahzuhk called Zahkraz was intimidating Luha, who was attempting to protect several Zatoran from his energy-draining weapons. The blue hero slowly was being backed into an alleyway, and Zahkraz was slowly preparing to unleash the energy he had already absorbed in a gigantic blast.

"You would be wise to back off, hero," Zahkraz spoke calmly. "Your very life is in danger just from standing in front of me,"

"And leave the Zatoran for you to kill?" Luha replied. "I would never do such a thing! My duty lies to the villagers of Vorza, not fear!"

Zahkraz did not reply, but instead he lunged to his side and slashed a Zatoran named Inota, who was attempting to escape the mad charges of several Exiled Ones. With one touch of his curved weapons, he sucked all the life energy out of Inota, leaving nothing but a dry, empty husk in the villager's place

"Then, you have doomed yourself," Zahkraz answered, turning back to Luha and smiling cruelly.

In another part of the street, Ebsmod and Jorvak were attempting to fight off the white Yahzuhk named Eloh, who had just killed a Zatoran builder named Turiz with a wave of sharp ice spikes. Ebsmod sent waves of tar at the monster, but Eloh simply touched and froze the projectiles. This gave time for Jorvak to hurl lightning bolts, but when they touched the being's armor, the intense cold radiating from within his body froze them as well.

"How are we supposed to stop someone that we can't even touch?" Ebsmod remarked, dodging several more ice spikes that were appearing around his feet.

"I'm not sure, but I think I have an idea!" Jorvak said. In a flash, the green hero had hurled himself at the white Yahzuhk, firing lightning bolts. The icy being responded by slashing him with one of his pincers and hurling him behind his back. Groaning, Jorvak collapsed and did not move.

Ebsmod frowned. What was he thinking? he though to himself. All he's done is gotten himself knocked unconscious and… But, that was when he noticed that Jorvak was in fact awake, and was preparing to hurl a lightning bolt into the Eloh's back!

The white Yahzuhk brandished his claws and aimed them at Ebsmod, charging them with the power of Frost. Then, without seemingly any reason, he smiled. In an instant, he had whirled around and fired a wave of cold energy at Jorvak. Surprised, the green hero had no time to move, and was quickly encased in ice.

"That… will not work on me," the being of ice said, in a voice that sounded like the raging winds of a blizzard. "My eyes can see more than what is in front of me, fools."

"NO!" Ebsmod shouted. Summoning all his strength, he rushed forward and slammed into the white Yahzuhk with his fists. The white Yahzuhk smashed into the ground, caught by Ebsmod's sudden move. The black hero continued his assault, using his elemental power to pour tar into the cracks of his foe's armor. The being of ice coughed and sputtered, trying to raise his claws. The tar was quickly piling around his body, and it was constraining both his movement and his breathing.

But, as he choked the white Yahzuhk, Ebsmod felt a sickening feeling in his heart. What was he doing? He was attacking a being in hate, and by doing that he was stooping down to the level of the Exiled Ones, who were the last creatures in Mirazis that he wanted to mimic. Quickly, he drew back his powers and released his grip on his foe. The Yahzuhk's eyes had gone dark, but he was still breathing haphazardly under the pile of tar. Slowly, Ebsmod picked himself up, and went over to free Jorvak from his icy prison. But, when he looked over at his brother, he realized that he was no longer frozen!

"I absorbed the ice into my body," Jorvak explained. "Since one of my sub-elements is snow, I figured that I could just use it in reverse to free myself. And it worked!" His face grew more serious. "I saw what you did there," he said quietly. "I couldn't tell exactly what was going on, but you looked really angry. What happened?"

"I… I don't know what got into me…" Ebsmod started to say. "I guess I felt so upset that he had attacked you like that, but that doesn't give me an excuse to act so horribly."

"Does it?" Jorvak remarked, struggling over the situation in his mind. It was true that Ebsmod had been very harsh in his attack, but what was a hero supposed to do when he was fighting beings that didn't play by the rules of honor and fairness?

A blast of heat interrupted his thoughts, and he and Ebsmod turned around. A hundred meters away, Luha was still trying to protect the Zatoran from both Tiroz and Zahkraz, who were menacing her like Rahi stalking their prey.

"Luha!" Ebsmod gasped. Charging his energy, he and Jorvak rushed over to help their fellow guardian, hurling blasts of tar and wind at the two Yahzuhk. The elements combined into a cyclone of black energy that slammed into the monsters and knocked them over. Luha took the advantage to usher the Zatoran away, and immediately after she summoned a tidal wave of protodermis that carried the Yahzuhk down the street. Jorvak hurled a lightning bolt at the wave of liquid, which conducted the electricity into Tiroz and Zahkraz's bodies.

With a great crash, the wave of protodermis slammed into a hut, and the two Yahzuhk slumped to the ground. Luha slowly approached the fallen monsters, energy at the ready.

"No, don't make the same mistake I did!" Jorvak shouted. Already, Zahkraz had opened his eyes, and he was charging up an enormous nova of energy that would be powerful enough to incinerate half the village.

Suddenly, a small dart slammed into the brown Yahzuhk. He screamed, and released the blast into the air, creating a gigantic ball of energy in the sky that could be seen for miles. Luha, Jorvak, and Ebsmod looked upwards to see several Zatoran standing at the top of one of the watch towers, manning a strange gun-like mechanism. The machine fired several more bolts into the two Yahzuhk's chests, which strangely seemed to be preventing them from using their powers! Jorvak and Ebsmod cheered, and Luha smiled.

However, the heroes' joy was short. A column of ice was quickly forming on the watchtower. In mere seconds, it had enveloped the machine and the Zatoran manning it. After that, they could see Eloh approaching, his pinchers snapping angrily. The white Yahzuhk had obviously recovered from Ebsmod's assault, and he was not happy.

"That's enough, Eloh," the voice of Zahkraz ordered. The brown Yahzuhk had picked himself up, and he and Tiroz were already heading out of the village. "They may think they've won this conflict, but one small fight does not make the battle, and one battle does not make the war." He waved his hand, and the Exiled Zatoran that had been watching the entire conflict followed him out. All of them wore a smile on their faces, and were clanking their tools together happily. They had caused much violence and destruction, and they knew more was to follow soon.

When all their enemies had filed out of the village, the heroes looked around and sighed. The village was disintegrated, burnt, or frozen in many spots, and a large number of buildings were damaged beyond repair. Worst of all, several Zatoran had died this day, never to see the light of the sun again. Zahkraz was right – it seemed they had won one battle, but the cost was so great.

Jorvak, however, was trying not to focus on the devastation. He had run over to the frozen guard tower and was absorbing the ice into his body, bit by bit. When the structure was free, he climbed up and woke the Zatoran from their temporary hibernation.

"Wha… What happened?" one of them asked, trying to regain his thoughts

"Everything," Jorvak said, sighing. "What is this anyway?" he asked, pointing to the broken pieces of the contraption that had stopped Zahkraz.

"This?" another Zatoran answered. "This is an invention Wudas created after we were attacked by the Ghoulbiters years ago. It fires darts that dampen energy based powers. Did it help stop the Yahzuhk? I'm afraid I couldn't see before I was frozen."

"Let's just say that it may have won one fight, but it didn't win the battle," Jorvak said quietly.

His thoughts were interrupted by Luha's shouting. "Jorvak – come here now!" she yelled. The green hero responded in a flash, hurling himself down from the tower and performing a midair summersault to land on his feet. Grimacing, he rushed over to where Luha was calling from and faced his fellow guardian.

"What's going on?" he asked, looking a bit worried. There was a Zatoran standing near Luha, and he recognized him as Mokar.

"I'll tell you on the way," Luha replied. "Come with me now – we have to hurry!" She began to run towards the east side of the village with Mokar, beckoning for Jorvak to follow.

"Okay, seriously – what is going on here?" Jorvak questioned, as he ran alongside Luha and the Zatoran.

"It's Vieta!" Luha said. "She's dying!"

Groaning, Olan opened his eyes, and sputtered as he realized he was lying in a small puddle of his own hydraulic fluid. "Ugh!" he grunted, trying to get his head out of the liquid. "How did Golga manage to strike me like that? She shouldn't have been able to – it doesn't make sense!"

Stretching his injured limbs, he slowly raised himself off the ground. He looked around, trying to see if his foe was still there. After a while, he sighed. "She's gone, of course," he murmured. "I guess she though she had finished me off. I'm sure she'll be mighty surprised if we meet again, that traitor."

He rubbed his head, trying to recall how he had been felled. "I just don't get how it happened," he said quietly. "One second I was blocking her claw swipes like I had just been practicing defensive maneuvers yesterday, and the next second she slashes me because I'm busy thinking about…"

Then, it came to him. "Miro!" he exclaimed. "Oh great, that fool's bound to be in trouble by now – if he hasn't already killed himself in battle!"

Hastily, he ran as fast as he could towards the building that he had seen the flashes of green energy exploding upon. Whatever had happened, he would make sure that whoever was fighting him would pay for each and every crime they had committed against his friend. And if they had hurt Miro in any way, by the great trees of the Orojahuga jungle, their punishment would be all the more severe.

Ska shook himself awake, feeling like he had just escaped a bad dream. How long had he been laying here? All he remembered was a bright flash of green light and then…

His eyes snapped wide open. Yes, now he remembered. That kobork of a scholar used a forbidden curse on me, he thought. He harnessed the power of evil to try t stop me from finishing my job!

With a growl, Ska picked himself up. He looked around, trying to make out his surroundings. Yes, he was on the very same rooftop that he had fought Miro upon, and there was nothing around him except dust, debris… and a black spot where the scholar had been standing.

For the first time in thousands of year, Ska laughed. It was a cold laugh, one laden with mockery. Miro sacrificed himself! Ska though. And for NOTHING! He's dead, and I'm not! What irony could surpass this?

Quietly, he jumped off the building and walked over to the pile of scrap metal which Miro's empty mask had fallen into. "Yes, it's still here," he said, staring at it gleefully. Smiling, he picked the green piece of shaped metal up and cradled it like a war trophy. "So, scholar," he said, "you tried to attempt something that you didn't even fully understand, and it cost you dearly. A cruel fate indeed, but now you know how I feel."

"Pretty soon, you won't be feeling much at all!" a voice called out. Ska whipped his head around, searching for the source. Suddenly, he felt a giant object grasp his neck.

"Where is he?" the Zatoran holding him screamed. "Where is Miro?" Turning his head, Ska saw that it was the villager named Olan, who looked angrier than a Woga frog with a sore throat.

"Where is he?" Ska said, laughing. "He's right here, fool!" He held up the scholar's mask, pushing it as far into Olan's face as he could. "What's left of him anyway," he added.

Screaming, Olan grabbed Miro's mask and threw Ska into a wall, walking over to the ex-Zatoran with rage in his eyes. Looking down upon his friend's killer, he shed a small tear and hollered with all his might.

Then, his face started to calm, and his look of anger turned into a gaze of one who wanted fair and reasonable justice. "So, you've finally committed the unforgivable crime," Olan spoke, grabbing Ska with one of his gigantic hands. "I can do nothing to save my friend now, you murderer, but I can do something to avenge his death."

Lifting the ex-Zatoran up, and holding Miro's mask with his other hand, he began walking towards the center of Vorza. "Mark my words, Ska, I'm not a killer like you are," he said. "But I swear, I'll do everything I can to make sure you pay dearly for what you've done, and I'll make sure you live to regret your crimes against Mirazis."

Chapter Twelve

After the Battle

Vieta lay unconscious on the bed in the medical center, sounding quieter and looking more still than the rocky bases of the Huyaza Mountains. The stump of her lost arm had been wrapped up with layers upon layers of cloth bandages, all which were soaked with hydraulic fluid. Mokar, Wudas, and the three guardians of Vorza stood beside her quietly, watching for any sign of healing or consciousness.

"I've done all I can," Nortis told Vieta's visitors, as he returned from his medicine closet with fresh bandages and gauze. "She's lost so much fluid that I'm not sure if she'll ever wake up from her coma. The herbs I've put on her are only helping to slow her death, and I doubt she will live for more than a week."

Tears started to stream down Luha's eyes. "No… this can't be happening!" she cried. "I've only known her for a few days, and yet I've already been beginning to develop a bond with her. Isn't there anything more we can do?"

Slowly, Nortis shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not a miracle worker. Her wounds are nearly as bad as Muzar's, and… seeing as I failed to save him, I don't know whether you can trust me to save Vieta either." Sighing, he turned away from Luha and continued to work on Vieta's arm.

"She'll come through this," Wudas said quietly. "She's always been a fighter, and she'll battle this injury out too. I'm sure of it."

"I hope so," Luha replied, "Because if she doesn't, I don't know if… wait, what is that sound?"

A commotion could be heard in the streets outside. It was quickly growing in volume, and was filled with the voices of nearly the entire village.

"Looks like the other half of the Zatoran are back from the Cleansing Waters," Wudas said. "Come on, you need to talk to them, heroes. Lets give Vieta get some peace and quiet."

Nodding their heads, the three guardians and Mokar followed Wudas out of the medical center, heading down the street to meet the returning Zatoran. Near the ancient Tower, dozens of the villagers mingled with the other citizens of Vorza. As some of the guards and townsfolk informed them about the battle that had taken place during their absence, several of the other returnees were stumbling around, looking for Zatoran who had seemingly disappeared. They refused to suspect the worst, and they couldn't usher the strength to ask anyone about their friend's whereabouts, but it was becoming apparent that they had died during the battle. And since they had not been there to defend their fellow villagers, it only made the realization even more painful.

Regardless, when the crowd noticed that their guardians had come out of the medical center, they quickly stopped their conversation and stood at attention.

"Um, I think they want us to speak," Jorvak said quietly.

"Oh… yes, I think you're right," Luha agreed. "Only, what should we say?"

"I don't know," Ebsmod remarked, "but you'd probably be the best person to do it, considering that you've spent so much time around Vieta. I mean, she's a pretty good speaker, from what I've heard, and…"

"Yes, I understand," Luha answered, cutting the guardian of Tar off. "I'll try my best, then."

Putting on her finest Vieta impression, Luha began to address the crowd of Zatoran. "Villagers," she said, "today we have fought a hard battle, and have barely escaped total destruction. Many of the Zatoran here did not witness this awful event, but there is no doubt that they will share in the sorrow of the villagers that did not survive this fight."

Pausing for a moment, Luha looked around at the Zatoran, trying to read their emotions. From what she could tell, it seemed that her speech had not left a good impression on the villagers, and now that she looked back on it, she realized that it had been fairly awkward and stiff.

Sighing, she began to speak in a more gentle tone. "Oh, I don't need to use all of this emotionless talk after what happened today. My friends, I'm terribly sorry about what has taken place. My brothers and I are still new here, so witnessing death is a rather foreign concept to us. And yet, we share in your sorrow, for we were sent here to protect all of you, and now we feel as though we have… failed."

Lowering her head for a moment, Luha proceeded to shed a quick tear. "But, we can't think like that. We need to stay strong, and so I believe we should give the dead praise rather than sorrow. It is time that we honor the five who have fallen: Torma, Muzar, Paluva, Inota, and Turiz."

"Ramasa," the villagers said unanimously, lowering their heads in respect as they uttered the Zatoran word for "Let it be so." Luha still was young and inexperienced, but her tender words had touched all of their hearts. In fact, they reminded many of Vieta, who despite her rough exterior had always taken great care to comfort the broken-hearted.

"I'm afraid you'll have to add one more to that list," a voice called out from behind the crowd, startling everyone. Several Zatoran were quickly pushed away, as the villager named Olan lumbered through the crowd towards the three guardians of Vorza. In his right hand, he carried the body of the Exiled One named Ska, who had last been seen fighting Vieta and now was completely tied up with thick rope. This was startling enough, but it was what he carried in the other hand that really shocked the assembled crowd. For, in his left fist, he clutched the burnt mask of Miro the scholar.

"Is that… how did this happen?" Luha shouted. "Who was last with Miro? What has been done to him?"

"I can answer all of those questions," Olan answered, sounding both angry and depressed. "During the siege of Vorza, Miro took up an active role in defending the village, using the magic he has secretly been studying by reading the ancient books of the Acolytes."

He proceeded to throw Ska down, letting him slump into the dirt of the road. "He was the one who prevented this… this wretched exile, from killing Vieta! When this hydraulicthirsty coward ran away, Miro proceeded to chase after him, warning his defensive group not to follow. I saw them fighting while I was battling another Exiled One, but my foe knocked me out before I could do anything to stop Ska. And when I found him later this day, he was holding Miro's mask, which he proceeded to gloat over like the sadistic murderer that he is!"

Kicking Ska aside, Olan walked over and handed the mask to the guardians, who looked at it sadly.

"I'm terribly sorry, Olan," Luha said, putting her arm on his shoulder. "I only wish we had known that Miro was in danger – but regardless, he was very brave to save his friend from death."

"Oh yes, it was truly such a brave deed," Ska mocked. "And yet no one but a 'wretched exile' and 'coward' such as me witnessed it. How truly honoring that is for an 'esteemed' Vorzian scholar like Miro."

"Shut your trap, Exiled scum!" Olan shouted, kicking Ska in the mask. "An amoral outcast like you would know nothing about honor, or anything else that is good and righteous."

"Good and righteous, huh?" Ska retorted. "Good and righteous, like your precious Acolytes, who felt not even a twinge of regret after exiling living beings to a place that is filled with pain and suffering?"

"You deserved your punishment," the voice of Unar said, as the second-in-command of the defense force came through the crowd with several other guards. "All of the Exiled trash did – beings like you, Gakso, and Hishazo have no sense of morality or emotion, and you got exactly what you wanted in Krall – a wasteland where everyone fends for themselves and scorns friendship and honor."

Turning to his fellow guards, he pointed at Ska. "Take him away to the Guard hut – he has no place laying in our streets and tarnishing them with his filth."

Nodding their heads, the three guards picked up Ska, who was now starting to grow angry. "Friendship? Honor?" the ex-Zatoran fumed. "Concepts like those are for weaklings, and Muzakas like you will never stand a chance against the might of the Exiled Ones and the Yahzuhk! You'll all be paying for what you did to us… ALL OF YOU!"

Ignoring Ska's tirade, Unar turned to his former commander. "As much as it pleases me to lock that tirag up, that wasn't why I came over here," he said. "Now that we have an enormous vacancy in the guard, many of us feel that it's time that we dip into our pool of retirees – if you catch my drift."

Olan shook his head. "I understand you're desperate, but I'm not sure if that would be a wise decision. Vieta has commanded the Defense force for nearly two hundred years now, and I don't think replacing her with someone far less experienced will benefit the guard or anyone else in this village."

"You and I both know that that isn't true," Unar insisted. "Vieta may be experienced, but are you forgetting who came before her? Or are you too afraid to face the truth?"

Sighing, Olan lowered his head. The decision that was before him was not an easy one, but he knew inside that putting his own interests before the safety of the village would only result in everything crashing down upon his head.

"All right," he said quietly. "I'll come out of retirement."

Unar smiled. "That's the Olan I know. Now, come on – we have some urgent business to discuss."

Without another word, Unar walked past the crowd, which had now started to shrink slightly. Olan slowly followed behind, lumbering over the street with a gait that betrayed his reluctance. And back in front of the remaining villagers, Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak stood quietly, wondering among themselves what in the land of Mirazis had just transpired before their eyes.

Gakso yawned, as he awoke from the first good night's sleep he had experienced since before he had been banished to Krall. After climbing back up Rauga Cliff, he and the other Exiled Ones had settled in for the night, filled to the brim with satisfaction. The rest he had since gotten had reenergized him unlike anything else he had done in years, and it was pleasing to know that he would never again experience the restless, painful slumber that had been the norm in the Exiled One's pathetic "village" of Krall.

Looking around, he saw that most of his fellow ex-Zatoran were still asleep on the soft sand of the cliff – all save for Hishazo, who was staring blankly into the horizon. It looked as though he had not gotten more than a few hours of rest, and his winged arms were drooping weakly to the ground.

Gakso shook his head, trying to imagine what exactly was going on inside the eloquent Zatoran's mind. Out of all the Exiled Ones, Hishazo had probably participated in the attack on Vorza the least, doing little more to hurt the Zatoran than the useless twit Bizor had. Even when the Yahzuhk had joined the fight, he still was very reluctant to give the villagers of Vorza any sort of pain, whether physical or verbal. It was almost as if escaping Krall had done nothing to change his attitude. He was still just as wordy and annoying as ever, and he had not shown enthusiasm for their mission of revenge since the Yahzuhk had brought the Cursed Wall crashing to the ground.

Of course, if one had focused on watching Gakso during the battle in Vorza, they might have expected that he would have been a little disappointed. After all, he had not killed a single one of his enemies, and he had managed to get himself knocked out by a mechanic with no fighting skills. It seemed that he had accomplished nothing during the entire time – but inside, Gakso felt very differently. He hadn't caused much carnage, yes, but he had given the Zatoran something much greater than just pain: he had given them fear. Besides, there would be plenty of other opportunities to end the lives of Wudas, Unar, and all the other muzakas of Vorza, and it was only a matter of time before he struck a finishing blow upon one of his former acquaintances.

Pushing all thoughts of Hishazo and the Zatoran aside, Gakso decided to go see where Zahkraz had gone to. It didn't take long for him to find the leader of the Yahzuhk, for he was sitting right at the very edge of Rauga Cliff. His eyes were closed, and it looked as though he was concentrating deeply on something. Perhaps he was planning more battle strategies, or maybe he was just viewing all the damage that they had caused last night.

"What's going on down there?" Gakso asked, as he sat himself beside Zahkraz. "I can't tell – I hate facing the sun when it's just starting to rise."

"Nothing much," Zahkraz replied. "The village is honoring the Zatoran we killed last night, and giving them a burial ceremony."

Gakso twisted his face in disgust. "Ugh, I hate fancy events! They're almost always focused on giving someone that didn't do anything attention they don't deserve. Okay, so those Zatoran did die in the 'line of service,' but for what cause? Protecting their pitiful village from those who truly deserve to rule, that's what!"

Zahkraz sighed. "Yes, it is quite upsetting, isn't it? And worse, our job is not even finished. The Zatoran and their heroes are still in control of this land, and we are not."

"It's maddening!" Gakso cried out.

"I know," Zahkraz agreed. "But do not worry – the Yahzuhk have a plan that will change these unfortunate circumstances"

Reaching down beside his leg, Zahkraz picked up a think slab of rock, which appeared to have something scratched into its surface. "Do you know what this word is?" he asked, pointing to the inscription on the stone.

Gakso studied the word for a moment, trying to make out syllables. "Ma-shra-ka," he said. "Never heard of it."

"I would think not," Zahkraz acknowledged. "Mashraka is an ancient term that was first spoken long before you were created. And yet, it is a word that has a very simple meaning, and one that can be understood by all."

"So, what does it mean?" Gakso asked. "And how will this… Mashraka, help us in any way?"

Zahkraz smiled, and put his hand on Gakso's spiked back. "You shall find out tonight," he said quietly, continuing to look upon Rauga Valley. "Yes, by the cursed peaks of Huyaza, you shall find out."

Chapter Thirteen

A Spawn's Last Chance

Vieta awoke with a gasp. What had just happened – where was she? She couldn't remember anything, or anyone. It took her a long time just to remember her name, and its significance had been lost, along with her memories of her previous… life? Had she even had a life before this? Or had she just been created this moment?

She stood up and looked around. In almost every direction there was nothing but pure blackness. The only light in the seemingly endless room sprang from a small door-shaped opening directly in front of her. What lies beyond that light? she thought. I must take a look.

Flexing her muscles for the first time in what seemed like eons, Vieta headed towards the bright opening, eyeing it with great interest. After many hours of walking, she reached the doorway of light. Slowly, carefully, she headed through it – or at least she tried to. As soon as she stuck her hand into the opening, however, it moved, heading further and further away from her.

"Wait!" she called out, "Don't leave! I need you!" She began running, steadily picking up her pace. But the light sped up as well. No, she thought. I won't lose you! She increased her speed even more. Quickly, she was blazing with fire, as her velocity continued to accelerate. Yes, the light was getting closer! She increased her speed again, until she was only a flying blur across the endless room. Now the light was just up ahead! Only a few more seconds and –

Vieta clunked into the doorway of light, hitting what felt like a solid wall. Her body flung back for miles, soaring through the dark room. She hit the ground. No, it can't be, she thought. She was right back where she started! "NO!" she shouted. Her voice echoed through the endless darkness, reverberating off her audio receptors and giving her an enormous headache. With a groan, she covered the sides of her head and collapsed, trying to dampen the magnified sound of her voice. When it had finally faded away, she noticed that the light had returned to its original position.

"I can't give up," she said. "not even if it kills me… kills me?" That word felt familiar somehow. Kill…. Death? Was this… death? "Am I dead?" she asked out loud. Her echoing voice answered the question for her, expressing her feelings though an emotionless, hollow chant. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

What an odd place… she thought. She giggled. She shouted again – "Hello!" The room answered back right away. Lo, lo, lo, lo, lo. "Gragunka!" She shouted. Unka, unka, unka, unka, unka, unka, the room replied. "Luha!" she yelled with all her might. Strangely, the room did not do what she expected. "Vieta?" it called out, in a voice that was not her own. "Can you hear me?"

Maybe this is part of the game, Vieta thought. Maybe I'm supposed to say things back too. "Hear me hear me hear me hear me hear me!" she shouted.

"Vieta, please wake up!" the room said.

"Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!" Vieta shouted back. This is tiring, she thought to herself. Maybe I should just take a little nap and come back later. I'm not leaving this room anytime soon, anyhow. Yes… that's it… just a little….

She clunked to the ground, asleep. In the distance, the bright light started to flicker, and the doorway began to dim.

"No, Vieta, NO!" Luha screamed, as her unconscious friend's heartlight rapidly flashed. This, she had been told, was a sign that a Zatoran was about to pass away, and she could simply not bear that happening to Vieta. "Please, don't die!" she pleaded.

As Luha panicked, Nortis was frantically running around the medical hut, searching through his herbs and salves for a temporary cure. He had never faced a trial as difficult as preventing the commander of the Defense Force from passing away, and keeping her condition stable was testing his mind, body, and soul all at the same time. Whispering a solemn prayer to the Great Beings, he snatched a small red tube from a cabinet and rushed over to Vieta's side. Gently, he pulled off the bandages covering the stump of her upper right arm and poured the liquid in the tube onto the broken joint. The salve began to react, forming a temporary clot that Nortis proceeded to dress with fresh strips of flax.

As Vieta's heartlight began to stabilize, Luha breathed a sigh of relief "What did you just do?" the guardian of Protodermis asked Nortis.

"It's an experimental medicine I've been working on for some time," the doctor explained. "It forms a clump of organic tissue that can stop almost any kind of wound from secreting hydraulic fluid."

Going over to his desk, Nortis picked up his medical notes, and flipped to a page containing a diagram of a damaged Zatoran leg. "As you can see, the clump of organic material acts as a separate entity, only fusing to the normal Zatoran tissue at the very edges." He showed the book to Vieta, who looked over it suspiciously. "The bad news is that if this… "tumor" of sorts is left attached for some time, it quickly become a parasite that drains fluid from the body itself, expanding its mass in the process."

"Are you crazy?" Luha exclaimed, shocked at Nortis's explanation. The "medicine" that he had used sounded more like a poison than a cure! "Why would you willingly fuse something that disgusting to my friend?" she demanded.

"It was the only way to save her," Nortis replied. "That is why I need you to get the other guardians quickly – your elemental powers may be the only thing that will heal Vieta's wound! And honestly, I don't know how much longer she can last without your aid."

Luha paused, taking in what Nortis had said. She was having a hard time trusting him at the moment, especially since the life of her friend was on the line. But the Zatoran healer would not be aided by any more harsh criticism, and she realized that she needed to help keep him confident.

"I understand," Luha finally answered. She nodded her head and left to get her brothers, leaving Nortis to watch over Vieta.

The Zatoran healer sighed and headed back to his medical cabinet, pulling out some materials he would need for the upcoming operation. This would most likely be his most difficult task ever, and he would need to use his absolute best materials – as well as his finest skills. It was up to him to preserve the leader of their village, and in the process preserve its spirit and resolve.

The sun was setting fast over the Huyaza Mountains. Aside from the scuttling of a few small Rahi, the entire range was completely quiet. To a stranger, it would have seemed peaceful and glorious – as if the world was new and perfect. Gakso knew better though, as he understood that something very dark and dangerous was about to take place once he and the Yahzuhk finally stopped climbing the mountains. And he was anticipating the moment like a Dewhopper anticipated the rain.

They had been scaling one of the tallest cliffs in the range for hours, moving closer towards their goal. The Yahzuhk had no trouble traversing the cold grey peaks, but early on it became evident that Gakso would not be able to keep up. So, Zahkraz had gently put him on his back, and they continued up the mountains without any further hindrances. Gakso took this gesture of kindness to the remnants of his heart, taking in Zahkraz's gentleness towards him. He had been caring and understanding to the Exiled Ones from the start, and this only confirmed that he was a far more worthy leader than the Acolytes.

"This is it," Tiroz announced, as they reached a small plateau. "Here is where we find Mashraka, our key to triumphing over the miserable village of Vorza."

Gakso jumped off of Zahkraz's back, and looked around. There was nothing here, aside from a few lose pebbles and dark plants. "This place?" he scoffed. "What here could possibly be of use?" When he remembered who he was talking to, however, he quickly began to stutter. "I mean… um…"

"Do not worry, Gakso," Zahkraz answered kindly. "We do not take offense at healthy measures of skepticism – after all, this location is nothing special on the outside. It is what is beyond the surface that is the answer to our troubles. Look." The brown Yahzuhk pointed to the grey edge of the peak, directly in front of the ledge they were standing on. "What do you see?"

"… A mountain?" Gasko replied, confused.

"Yes, a mountain, but not just any mountain," Zahkraz replied. "A fake mountain. The top of this peak was cleaved off long ago by the Acolytes, and the former rulers of Mirazis replaced it with a handmade structure that is laden with traps and illusions. This plateau is just the first of many, as you shall soon see."

"How… how do you know this?" Gasko stuttered.

"Because… " Zahkraz answered, "…I built this myself. Long ago, the Yahzuhk were in fact servants of the Acolytes, for Mirazis's former rulers were originally fair and compassionate beings. My brothers and I were part of a special division devoted to locking away the 7 incarnated evils in inescapable prisons. We were known as the master craftsmen of Mirazis, and were revered by all Zatoran. Of course, once the Acolytes themselves turned into tyrants, my brothers and I rebelled against them, and… well, the result is standing before you."

Gakso was stunned. He stood there for a while, contemplating what Zahkraz had said. Had those words really come out of the Yahzuhk's mouth, or had he just heard wrong? Never in all his imagination had Gakso even considered the possibility that the Exiled One's saviors had once been allied with the Acolytes. And now, they were explaining their former allegiance to the tyrants of Mirazis like it was not in the least bit shocking. Could he even trust them anymore, now that their secret had been revealed? Or was he just suspecting too much?

"This is unbelievable," Gasko finally said, not really knowing how to respond to the Yahzuhk's words.

"Normally, I would agree with you," Zahkraz said, "but you have already witnessed unbelievable things, Gakso. Just a week ago, you were certain you would never escape your imprisonment in Krall. Now, look where you are – free, and led by beings with immense power. Amazing, isn't it?"

Gasko sighed. Yes, Zahkraz was right. There was nothing to worry about – and he really needed to start trusting the Yahzuhk more. "It is amazing," he replied quietly. "But, I doubt I'll ever be able to trust you fully. How could I, when I've already been betrayed by my own people?"

Zahkraz smiled, and patted Gakso's back. "In time, you shall learn how to sort the truth from lies, and to not confuse loyalty with deception," he assured the Exiled One. His face then became more serious. "But enough of this," he said dismissively. "It is time we awaken Mashraka!"

Closing his eyes, Zahkraz began to walk forward, moving towards the side of the mountain. He held his hands out, acting as if he was blind. Slowly, but surely, he approached the rock wall, took a deep breath – and disappeared through the mountain's edge.

"What… what happened?" Gakso exclaimed.

"The wall is an illusion," Tiroz replied. "To the naked eye, it appears as part of the mountain, and feels like it as well. In order to pass, one must ignore his vision and approach by touch alone. Now come along – we have many more tests to conquer."

Gakso nodded, and followed Tiroz and Eloh through the illusion wall. Inside, he saw that the mountain was hollow, and contained a long, twisted corridor with torches that still flickered brightly.

"This is where the true test begins," Zahkraz said. "Watch carefully, little Zatoran – you are about to witness skill unlike anything you have ever seen before. Treasure this moment in your heart – the true face of power is about to reveal itself."

Motioning for the others to follow, Zahkraz began walking through the curved passageway, using his energy tendrils to search for any traps. It was slow going, and it seemed as though the hallway would never end.

After a long walk, the leader of the Yahzuhk suddenly stopped, holding Gakso back with his arm. Immediately, he pointed ahead of the company.

"Eloh, it's your turn first," Zahkraz said to the white Yahzuhk.

Without even acknowledging his leader, Eloh began to head past the point where Zahkraz had halted in his tracks. He cautiously stepped onto the square tiles that covered the floor, and began crossing them in a random fashion.

There's obviously traps hidden in the room, Gakso thought. And I bet they're activated by certain stones.

As it turned out, he was more right than he thought. On Eloh's third step, an axe swung out of the wall. The white Yahzuhk simply bent over, and the axe swing harmlessly to the side. However, more traps began to come out of the walls, until the entire corridor was a minefield of danger.

"Wait, was that supposed to happen?" Gakso asked Zahkraz. "Did he mess up?"

"No," the brown Yahzuhk replied. "This is all part of the test. The 'safe' stones summon traps that are possible to avoid, although only barely. On the other hand, the bad stones simply summon a dark fire that incinerates the trespasser instantly."

In the midst of Zahkraz's explanation, Eloh was slowly making his way across the booby-trapped floor, dodging axes, spears, and saws in lightning fast movements. He continued this for nearly 15 minutes, as Gakso watched fearfully. Zahkraz and Tiroz did not look even slightly fazed by the danger their brother was in, however - almost as if it was perfectly routine. Finally, after what seemed like forever to Gakso, Eloh clanked onto the completely safe floor at the end of the corridor. In an instant, he had located a hidden switch, which he pulled. The traps disengaged, and the room was safe to cross.

Gakso stared at Eloh, his mouth wide open. "How… how did you do that? That was incredible!"

"Not long after we started working on the Mashraka's prison, Eloh studied the arrangements and patterns of the traps in this section, as a precaution of sorts." Zahkraz replied. "Of course, it also helps that his eyes are not simply Zatoran level optical sensors. On the contrary – his eyes can see in every direction at once, which has many benefits."

Gakso's eyes widened in amazement – at least for a moment, anyway. But then another though came to his mind, and he frowned. "Wait just a minute!" he exclaimed. "I saw how easily that being named Ebsmod took you down during the battle in Vorza. If you can see in all directions, why couldn't you have avoided him easily?"

Tiroz grinned. "That's a very good question, Gakso," he sneered, turning to Eloh, "Why don't you answer that, four eyes?"

Eloh's expression did not change. "It is not for mere Zatoran like you to understand why certain things happen, nor is it your right to know every detail of our plans."

"Or, in other words," Zahkraz explained, "why are you so sure that Eloh's temporary fall was a mere accident? Don't be so quick to assess judgment upon those who know far more than you do, my little friend."

Without waiting for Gakso to respond, Zahkraz turned to Tiroz. "I believe it is your turn next," he said to the red Yahzuhk.

Baring his teeth in a grin, Tiroz put his weapons on his back and headed towards the end of the corridor. There, Gakso could see a strange pattern inscribed into the wall, with a single small hole at the very bottom. Once the red Yahzuhk reached the unusual indentions, he proceeded to stick one of his pointy fingers into the tiny opening. A small stream of fire began to flow through the pattern, lighting up the lines and forming an ancient symbol.

"What is he doing?" Gakso asked.

"Completing the second test, of course," Zahkraz answered. "In order to pass, one with the power of Heat must light the ancient patterns on the wall in an extremely precise way. Only the greatest master of fire can complete this task, for one small mistake will summon an electrical charge strong enough to burn the metal armor off of any being.

Eyes wide, Gakso watched in horror as the symbol continued to catch on fire. The distraught Exiled One could see that the red Yahzuhk was obviously strained, and he wondered how longer Tiroz could hold up. Finally, in triumph, the Yahzuhk smiled and gave the thumbs up with his other hand. The pattern turned blue and the wall retracted, revealing a silver elevator.

"Now comes the final test," Zahkraz said. "Stand back, my brothers." He smiled, and moved his hand towards a keypad built into the side of the elevator. No sooner had he placed a finger on the keyboard did a strange eye-like contraption pop out of the top of the elevator. The brown Yahzuhk stared into the orb, which turned red and shot a beam into his eyes.

"That thing – what is it?" Gakso exclaimed.

"Quiet, you!" Tiroz whispered, covering the red Zatoran's mouth. "This is the most extreme of all the tests, and Zahkraz needs all the concentration he can get!"

In the midst, the leader of the Yahzuhk was battling the beam of the orb, which only increased in intensity with every second. Zahkraz was unfazed, and continued to stare into the contraption with his ice-cold eyes. He waged war on the beam for what seemed like ages, never letting his gaze down. Then, as quickly as it had popped out, the orb retracted, and Zahkraz sighed a breath of relief.

"Are you okay?" Gakso asked the brown Yahzuhk.

"Fine, I'm very fine – just a little worn out," Zahkraz replied. "This final test solely relies on the power of the mind, and it is extremely straining for even a being like myself. If I was to lower my concentration for even a second, the beam would have enslaved me under its hypnosis powers, and I would have rushed out and thrown myself off the cliff to my doom." He smiled at Gakso, winking. "But there is nothing to worry about – the tests are all passed, and we can proceed."

Turning his attention back to the keyboard, Zahkraz proceeded to type in a short code number. The elevator opened, and Gakso and the Yahzuhk crammed into the contraption. The doors closed, and it began lowering deeper into the artificial mountain. After a long while, the rhythmic clanking of its descent stopped, and it opened to a sight that shocked Gakso. In front of him stood a vast cavern, lined with hundreds of clear tubes holding the most disgusting creatures he had ever seen. They all were motionless, frozen by the liquid contained in the tubes.

"This," Zahkraz announced, "is the prison of the Mashraka, one of the seven incarnated evils that the Acolytes locked away over ten thousand years ago. The Mashraka were once the scourge of Mirazis, running freely and destroying everything that stood in their way. They were unstoppable – and all beings feared their great power. It was only through the powers of the staff of Xun that the Acolytes managed to defeat them - but instead of humbling the rulers of Mirazis, this narrow victory caused them to grow arrogant and foolish."

"Quite a pity," Tiroz said. "If they had not let their powers go to their heads, the horrors of Krall may never have taken place."

Gakso looked around, gazing at the sleeping Mashraka in awe. "What are you going to do with them?" he asked.

Zahkraz bared his teeth in a grin. "Why, we're going to release them, of course."

"Wha… WHAT?!" Gakso exclaimed. Zahkraz was going to let the Mashraka go? From what he had head from their very mouths, that was an act of madness, not strategy. They would destroy Mirazis, leaving them without anything – or anyone - to rule! "You're insane!" he shouted.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," Zahkraz answered. "But the temporary losing of one's mind has benefits of its own, and in this case, it is all part of the plan. Besides, do you think that someone who could build a prison containing the Mashraka could not lock them away as well? Or do you have even less trust in me than I thought?"

"Well, I, uh…" Gakso stammered. He was caught between a mountain and a hard place, and he realized that Zahkraz was completely right.

"Never mind, do not fret about it," Zahkraz answered. "Words do not build loyalty anyway – it is actions that prove honesty and intelligence." He motioned for Tiroz and Eloh to come forward. "Let us awaken the spawn, brothers," he said to the other Yahzuhk. Nodding, they headed towards a huge sphere of energy in the center of the room, which appeared to be powering the Mashraka's prison.

Linking hands, the three Yahzuhk charged up a beam of energy that combined their powers into one incredible blast. Their bodies began to glow with blue energy, which was so hot that Gakso had to back away in pain. They began to levitate off the ground, focusing their powers even further in the midst. Finally, in a supernova of energy that lit up the room brighter than the sun itself, they unleashed their power. The blast surged through the room, smashing the sphere into oblivion. Before Gasko could react, Zahkraz had picked him up and began blanketing them with a thin wave of energy.

"Huh?" Gakso muttered. What was Zahkraz doing now?

"I'm concealing our energy signatures," the leader of the Yahzuhk said, as if he had read Gakso's mind. "To these creatures, we are completely invisible to the senses. Speaking of which… here they come." Causally, he held out his hand, beckoning for Gakso to watch.

Almost immediately after, a hundred pairs of red eyes blinked open around the room. The prison began to rattle and crack, and growls could be heard from within. Huge claws shot out from within the glass, and hideous limbs followed. One by one, the prison tubes totally shattered, and the grotesque beasts formerly contained inside rushed out, gathering into a huge horde of monsters. The creatures started clawing at the back of the room, breaking off chunks of metal and rock with their enormous claws. Once they had breached the exterior, the horde rushed out and began climbing down the mountain. All the while, a distinct chant could be heard from their mouths, echoing its horror through the prison cave and beyond. "Muza. Muza. Muza. Muza. Muza! Muza! Muza! Muza! MUZA!"

The Mashraka had awakened.

Chapter Fourteen

Of Utmost Precision

Olan frowned as he closed the door of the guard hut behind him. The defense force member outside clicked the lock into position, leaving Olan alone with their "special guest." In a corner of the dark cell, Ska was sitting down on a bed of straw, smiling to himself. His arms were shackled with metal cuffs that were attached to the wall with a long chain. Wudas's former master had designed these cuffs long ago as a method of keeping prisoners from escaping. Left alone, the shackles would cause no discomfort to a convict, but if the captive struggled against the chains, it injected a sedative that eventually knocked the captive out.

This, of course, was why Olan had expected to find Ska in a deep sleep when he entered the building. Strangely however, the guards positioned outside the door had told Olan that Ska had not attempted to struggle at all, which was a stark contrast to his behavior and mood during the battle two days ago. It seemed as though he had given up any hope of escaping by his own hands – which made Olan worried that he was planning a devious scheme of some sort. But, the potential to extract some needed information out of Ska outweighed any dangers he might face, and he had decided that, for the moment, he would push all thoughts of suspicion out of his head.

Of course, that was easier said than done, especially since Ska apparently had gone insane since the attack on Vorza. Sighing, Olan turned around and looked the Exiled One in the face. "Okay, murderer," he said fiercely. "Are you ready to speak up, or should I just leave you here to rot?"

"Stay, leave, speak, rot - what does it matter to me anymore?" Ska answered sarcastically. "Why do you assume that I care about anything you Zatoran do? You can no longer hurt me, muzaka."

"Says the one chained to a stone wall," Olan replied, flexing one of his fists. "I could come right over there and rip that mask off your face, you know."

"You'd only be doing me a favor," Ska answered. "I've already gotten my revenge – nothing matters to me anymore."

"Not even the other Exiled Zatoran? The Yahzuhk? Yourself?" Olan questioned.

"I said nothing, muzaka, and when I say that, I mean -"

Before Ska could finish, Olan had punched a dent into the stone wall with his bare hands, inches away from Ska's head. "If you say that word one more time, Exiled One," he growled, "I'll personally make sure that nothing will ever matter to you anymore."

Ska smiled viciously. "You little sensitive fools just can't stand those insults, can you? The old adage that 'edges and points may cut my joints, but words can never hurt me' is foreign knowledge around here, it seems."

"At least I have the respect not to insult my prisoner," Olan said, frowning.

"But that's just it," Ska replied. "Even if you did, it would never affect me – I'm beyond feeling any pain from rude remarks – or anything else, for that matter. The only reason I even bother with insults is that you Zatoran of Vorza are susceptible to that kind of assault, and it pleases me immensely to know that I have control over your actions and emotions. "

Olan sighed. Nothing good was coming out of this conversation, especially since Ska was raving like a sadistic lunatic. What was strange was that he had not been like this until recently. One of the guards had told Olan after the battle that the lone ex-Zatoran was filled with rage, not with empty sarcasm and emotionless words. Somehow, he had changed, and not in a good way. This would hinder getting any information out of Ska, of course, but Olan knew he had to try anyway.

"Well, Exiled One, if nothing matters to you anymore, than I suppose you won't mind answering a few questions, will you?" he asked Ska.

"I suppose we'll have to see about that," Ska replied, grinning madly.

Olan nodded. "First question: how did you get out of Krall?"

"How do you think, mooze-for-brains?" Ska replied. "The Yahzuhk freed us, of course!"

"Yes, I figured that," Olan acknowledged, "but I'm asking for specific answers, not vague accounts."

Ska smiled. "Ah, details, details, the bane of every unintelligent Zatoran. If you can't figure it out yourself, than I don't feel it's worth explaining it to you."

Olan sighed again. "Next question: when did you first meet the Yahzuhk, and what happened during that time?"

"You can't count, can you?" Ska replied. "You asked two questions, not one."

"Then answer them both!" Olan shouted, slamming his fist into another section of the wall.

"Fine – I met them where I used to go every day, and I joined them right after that." Ska answered. "Happy now?"

Olan slapped his head in frustration. This was getting nowhere – absolutely nowhere. The black miner was usually one of the most patient beings in Mirazis, but Ska's indistinct words were driving him crazy.

As he was musing over his aggravation, someone knocked on the door of the guard hut, and then proceeded to open it. One of the members of the defense force walked in, looking quite dismayed. "Olan," he reported, "one of our scouts saw something very strange while patrolling the grasslands. He says that it's urgent that you come and talk to him."

"Of course, Kitao, I'll be right there," Olan answered. "I'm not getting anywhere with our prisoner anyway." Quickly, he left for the defense HQ, and Kitao proceeded to shut the door behind him.

Once again, Ska was left alone, accompanied only by his soulless ramblings and empty heart. But this did not bother him at all – no, nothing did anymore. The formerly raging Zatoran had finally found inner peace and freedom in madness, and he was enjoying every second of it. Emotion is for weaklings, Ska thought. And I am no longer a weakling.

Down in Rauga valley, the village of Vorza had quieted down for the night. Most of the villagers had gone to sleep, and the market stands and public buildings were empty. Aside from the chatter of a few guards, nary a single sound could be heard among the streets and buildings. Nary a sound, that is, except for the voices coming from within the medical hut, where Nortis was preparing to undertake his most difficult procedure ever.

"Luha, hand me that instrument on the table," the healer said to the hero of Protodermis. She nodded and was about to pick up the tool, when all of a sudden Nortis gestured for her to stop. "No, no, not that one – give me the one over on the desk, will you?" Luha raised an eyebrow, but complied anyway. Nortis cut her off again, motioning over at a small stool. "On the other hand, I think the one over there would be best. Please get it, Luha."

"Are you all right, Nortis?" Luha asked, as she obeyed the doctor's third order. She had noticed that he had been especially indecisive and frantic since she had come back to the hut to help. This was unusual, because Nortis was rarely one to be nervous about anything.

Nortis sighed. "I'm okay… I'm just worried. I've never done something this complex before, and I'm worried that I might mess up. These kinds of injuries didn't usually happen in Mirazis when the Acolytes were present, and when they did, the Acolytes themselves healed the Zatoran. Worse, this is Vieta I'm operating on – she has been the heart and soul of this village's courage and valor for so long. If she were to die at my hands, I would never be able to forgive myself."

"Stop it, Nortis," Luha said sternly. "This is not your fault, and you shouldn't act like it is. You've been an amazing healer – without you, Vieta would not even be alive today, so don't get worked up. You need to be confident if you want to succeed." She handed him the instrument she had taken from the stool. "Just do your best, Nortis. That's all we could ever expect of you, or anyone for that matter."

Nortis nodded understandingly, and took the tool from her hand. At that moment, Ebsmod and Jorvak walked in, and Wudas followed their lead, carrying a strange device in his hands.

"Ah, good, you're here," Nortis said. "Well, I suppose we should get started. Jorvak, come over here please," he instructed.

"So, what's the first step?" Jorvak asked, as he approached and kneeled beside Vieta's bed.

"Well, the first thing we have to do is to get rid of the makeshift organic patch I applied to Vieta's arm," Nortis explained. "After I take the bandage off, I will be dissolving it using a bit of liquid from the cleansing waters. As soon as it disappears, I need you to use your ice sub-power to carefully freeze off the ends of the severed hydraulic fluid tubes. But you need to be very careful that you don't freeze the fluid inside them in the process, okay?"

"I understand," Jorvak replied, nodding. "Let's do this."

Carefully, Nortis removed the woven straps of flax covering Vieta's arm stub. Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak grimaced at the sight of the organic patch, which had quickly grown into a large, disgusting blob of flesh. It was like a giant parasite, feeding off of Vieta's dwindling energy bit by bit. Gross as it was, though, the guardians realized that it had saved their friend's life, but they were still glad that Nortis was getting rid of it.

In the meantime, the Zatoran healer had applied several drops of cleansing water onto the patch. As soon as they touched the tissue, it began to shrivel and dissolve. Eventually, it had been reduced to nothing, and Jorvak knew that this was the time to act. Holding out his hand, he used one of his fingers to seal off the metal tubes with an extremely minimal amount of his power.

Nortis smiled. "Good job, hero. Now, I need to repair the damaged components in her arm. Everyone, please be quiet while I do this." He began to remove several broken pieces using a small precision knife and an object he referred to as "tweezers." Next, he sanded the jagged points of her arm stump to a soft edge, using the tool Vieta had handed him minutes before. Several drops of hydraulic fluid trickled down his mask, as he strained to keep himself from damaging the organic components inside. At several points, he called on Jorvak to refreeze the tubes carrying her internal fluids, and the guardian of storms succeeded each time. Finally, after nearly two hours of tiring work, Nortis called on a different being. "Ebsmod, please come up here," he said.

Ebsmod frowned, wondering exactly how Nortis expected him to help. Of what use could his power of Tar be in a delicate operation like this? So far, the only use of his strange element that he had discovered was choking enemies with its dense substance – hardly the most medicinal kind of action. It seemed that out of all the elements, his was the most violent and useless in any situation except warfare, and he would probably only end up hurting Vieta more. Sighing, he walked up to the Zatoran commander's bed. "I don't really know how I'll be a benefit to this operation." he remarked.

"Oh, your power is very important in this procedure, Ebsmod," Nortis asserted. "What I need you to do is to focus your energy and cover the edges of her arm stump with your power. Do you think you can do that without creating excess tar?"

"In all honesty, probably not," Ebsmod replied. "These giant fingers of mine are no good for precision work."

"Well, then, it's a good thing I prepared for this," Nortis said. "Wudas, bring the device up."

Wudas nodded and carried his odd invention over. "I've tailored it to have .003 tios of accuracy, just like you said," he announced proudly.

"Good," Nortis replied. "Give the device to Ebsmod."

Ebsmod looked at the gizmo questioningly, as he held it in one of his huge hands. "How is this going to help me?" he asked.

"It's simple," Wudas explained. "This device is designed to channel elemental-based powers into tiny beams, allowing for easy precision work. Well, easy enough, but you still need to be careful."

"Just place one of your hands into the hole in the back, Ebsmod," Nortis said. "Don't rush the job, and you'll be fine,"

Ebsmod eyed the device for several more seconds, questioning whether a mechanical invention could help solve his natural clumsiness. Deciding that there was no other choice, he slipped his hand into the machine and set to work. A tiny stream of tar began to come out of the funnel of the device, which he guided onto the edges of Vieta's arm stump. Surprisingly, it was not as hard as he envisioned it, and he was finished in no time.

"That's it, Ebsmod," Nortis said, complimenting him on his skill. "Now all that is left is to permanently seal the internal tubes, and close the stub off with metal. Wudas, can you give me the adhesive corks?"

Wudas handed Nortis a few small pieces of metal, and the healer proceeded to carefully place them through the holes of the fluid tubes, just as the ice had completely melted. Then, he took a large plate of metal and placed it on Vieta's arm stump, covering the organic and metallic components inside. After reinforcing the plate with several beams of metal, he turned and smiled at Wudas and the heroes.

"We did it, guys," he said happily. "She's perfectly safe now."

"That's wonderful to hear!" Luha said, relieved immensely that Vieta was going to be all right. "Will she wake up now?" she asked.

"Hopefully, yes, she will," Nortis answered. "It will take time, but I believe she's finally onto the road to recovery. Thanks for your help – I couldn't have done it without you." A tear streamed down his mask.

Unexpectedly, the tender moment was interrupted by the creaking of the medical center's door. Calmly, the guard named Lamaru walked though the doorway and over towards the heroes. "Guardians," she said, "Valmoa has returned from his scouting, and he has information that he says is crucial for you to hear. He also says to come as quickly as possible, and that all three of you must be present at the same time."

"We'll be right there," Luha replied. "We were just finishing up helping Nortis."

"The operation, I presume?" Lamaru remarked. "I see that it went well. Excellent job, Nortis." She saluted the doctor and marched out of the room. Luha would recall later that she thought she saw a hint of blushing on Nortis's face – something that she would eventually learn was a rare event indeed.

"Come on, brothers," Luha said. "I have a suspicion that Valmoa's news is less than heartening." Bidding Nortis goodbye, the three heroes headed out of the medical center, making for the defense HQ. Wudas soon left as well, taking his invention with him. Nortis was now alone with Vieta, who dreamed on in her unconscious state.

Quietly, he leaned over and put his hand on Vieta's mask. "Keep trudging on, warrior," he said. "For all of our sakes."

"Good, you're here," Olan said, as the three heroes entered the Defense HQ. He motioned for them to place themselves around the central desk. "Sit down, please. I've only just heard Valmoa's report, but I felt that it was urgent that you were informed."

Luha sat down and folded her hands. "What is going on?" she asked Olan inquisitively. "And why are you sitting in Vieta's spot?"

Olan frowned. "It looks like you weren't listening to the conversation Unar and I had after you gave that speech."

"Oh no, we were listening," Luha insisted. "It's just that… well, we don't really know what 'retirement' means."

Olan sighed. "You still need to learn a lot, don't you heroes?" he said sarcastically, looking a bit annoyed. His face then calmed, and he began to explain his conversation with Unar.

"Back, oh, 200 years ago… I wasn't a miner like I am now. I was a guard, and one of the best of the time according to many Zatoran. Eventually, I eventually rose to the rank of Commander of the Defense Force, and I continued to fight alongside my fellow guards."

"But…" he said, pausing for a moment, "it just got too hard for me after a while. All the violence, all the heroics – by the time I had rescued Unar from a worm's nest, I was sick of the whole job, and I asked to be allowed to take a different, more peaceful job. So, I retired from my service as a commander, and I've been working in the quarry up until the Acolytes died. Vieta, who had been my second-in-command at the time, took my place as the head of the defense force, where she had excelled further than I ever did."

Ebsmod nodded his head. "I understand now," he said. "Since Vieta is in the medical center right now, the guard needed someone to take her place, and Unar offered you your old position."

"More like ordered me to accept it," Olan said quietly. "But, that's quite enough storytelling for now. We still haven't gotten to the important business I called you here for in the first place. Valmoa, tell them what happened."

The short, white Zatoran scout sitting next to Olan began speaking immediately, without any hint of emotion in his voice. "During my surveying of the Rauga grasslands, I decided that it was necessary to go further away from the village than normal," he recounted. "I had begun hearing sounds that were out of place in this region, and my common sense told me that something had changed. I ran for about half an hour past my normal range, heading towards the Orojahuga Jungle. I found nothing, but the sounds were increasing in volume. I continued further down the land, and the strange noises increased even more. Finally, I reached a large hill, where the sounds were blocking out the common noises of the night. It was there that I became far more cautious. Slowly, I inched forward, crawling on my hands and knees. I reached the top of the hill, and I beheld a sight unlike any other."

Valmoa halted his account for a second, catching his breath. Olan, who looked annoyed, smacked the table with his large fist.

"Get to the point, Valmoa!" he ordered, wrenching his hand from the hole he had made in the table.

"Don't be so harsh, Olan," Luha said quietly. "He's obviously been through a lot,"

As quickly as he had stopped, Valmoa resumed talking. "It was there that I saw what could best be described as a horde," he said. "Gathered near the Orojahuga Jungle were dozens of horrendous creatures. These creatures were unlike anything I had ever seen before, or, as I believe, I will ever see in my lifetime. Some of these monsters were prowling around the grasses. Others were feasting on the bodies of dead Rahi, and some were even fighting among themselves. However, they all were identical in looks and in sound, for every one of them was chanting the same word over and over again: Muza."

Luha's eyes widened. Contrary to what she had expected, the word the monsters were shouting was not random gibberish, but actually had a meaning. For muza, she knew, was the Zatoran word for "rage," although she had no idea why it was coming out of the mouths of mindless beasts.

Jorvak, however, was far more interested in the appearance of the monsters. "What did these beings look like?" he asked Valmoa.

"They, to put it best, were a spawn that makes even the Yahzuhk look like a simple Gretu mouse in comparison," Valmoa replied, showing a bit of emotion for the first time. "They were long and thin, with four pointed limbs sticking out of an angled body. At the end of each limb they possessed a gigantic claw, and a long tail with a razor sharp end protruded from their back. Their body was covered in smooth scales, and their face… their face was horrendous. It was spiked and scarred, with two blood red eyes and a maw of gleaming teeth. Among other features, however, none stood out as much as the perpetual blue glow that surrounded their entire body. A glow that was eating up the energy from everything they touched. The reeds, the trees, even the very rocks were crumbling into lifeless dust, and the grasslands around them were quickly becoming a dead, powerless plain."

When Valmoa finished, the three heroes sat in silence, contemplating the horrors that the Zatoran scout had seen. From his account, they could tell that the creatures he had witnessed had never set foot on Mirazis before – or at least, in a very long time. And yet, they also were certain that they knew why they had appeared, even without any solid proof.

"The Yahzuhk," Ebsmod said. "They released these beings – I'm sure of it."

"What can we do?" Jorvak asked. "These creatures are obviously extremely powerful - and what's more, they probably outnumber us. I pride myself on my varied powers, but right now I'm thinking that an energy-sapping touch beats that and just about anything else."

Olan lowered his head. "I'm afraid it's worse than that. Not only do we have no experience fighting creatures of this power, but we also do not have information on their origin, history, strength, or potential weaknesses. I'm afraid that fighting an enemy like this may very well be suicide."

"Don't we have some way we can gather some information on this new enemy?" Luha asked. "A concordance, an ancient wall, a library – wait, that's it! The scholar's library is bound to have something relating to this!"

Olan sighed and shook his head. "That won't work. The books are all written in the language of the Acolytes, which only Miro was able to comprehend. And Miro, as you know, is no longer with us."

"No, there has to be some way we can read the books in the library!" Luha shouted. "Isn't there anyone else here that knows the language of the Acolytes?"

Before Olan could respond, the guard who was standing outside the doorway of the defense HQ burst in with a comment of his own. "Ceratus knows!" he shouted. Olan snorted, trying to suppress an untimely laugh.

"What's so funny?" Jorvak said. "I've never heard of this Ceratus fellow before, but if he knows how to read the Acolytes' language, he could be the answer to our troubles. Isn't that right?"

"Right as raindrops rising from the ground," Olan replied sarcastically. "And it's just typical that a normally moderate and sensible being like Kitao would come up with such a crazy idea. Ceratus can't help us – he hasn't helped anyone for hundreds of years."

"And why is that?" Olan asked angrily.

Olan sighed again. "Because, heroes, Ceratus… is insane."

Chapter Fifteen

Returning to Reality

At the top of the mountain prison that had once held the Mashraka, the Yahzuhk were surveying Rauga Valley and keeping a close eye upon the beasts that they had released. Gakso stood next to them on the ledge, trying to read their emotions. They had not spoken for hours, and it almost seemed as if they were a bit… unsatisfied. But with what?

As it turned out, he did not have to figure out the answer himself. Tiroz, who had been unusually quiet, finally broke the silence with a rather sudden assertion.

"This is not working, Zahkraz," the red Yahzuhk said to his leader. "The Mashraka are not approaching the village fast enough – if you could call what they are doing 'approaching.' Even you would agree, wouldn't you Eloh?"

The white Yahzuhk grunted and pulled his pincher away from Tiroz's neck. "He… speaks the truth, great leader," he said quietly. "If the Mashraka do not reach the village soon, our path to victory will be delayed."

Gasko raised an eyebrow. "Wh…what? Why is that happening?" he asked the Yahzuhk. It made no sense to him why the Mashraka were not doing what Zahkraz had predicted – after all, he had said a while ago that they would be drawn to the biggest source of energy in Mirazis – which logically would mean the village of Vorza.

Zahkraz sighed. "I'm afraid that I've made a mistake in my predictions," he admitted. "Ten thousand years ago, Vorza was indeed the largest source of energy in the land. But times have changed, and so has the landscape itself." He motioned for Gakso to turn to the west. "Look beyond Rauga valley, Gakso – look beyond all of the zios of grass and trees, and tell me what you see?

Looking through the darkness, Gakso struggled to make out anything within the pitch black of the night. He could at least see the vague outline of the plain, and past it was…

"The Orojahuga Jungle?" he inquired. "Why does that matter?"

"So, that is what you call it," Tiroz answered. "Rather uncreative on the Acolytes part, calling it 'the mysterious jungle.' Any being with half a brain could figure that out easily, without having to know its silly little title."

"Thank you for the linguistic commentary, Tiroz," Zahkraz said sarcastically. "But, to answer your question, Gakso – it's very simple, actually. Ten thousand years ago, the jungle you speak of was not present in the land of Mirazis."

Gakso frowned. "So… you're saying that Vorza is no longer the largest source of energy in Mirazis?"

Zahkraz smiled. "Of course - and how smart of a relatively young being like you to figure that out so quickly. However, that does not solve our little problem – and now that the Orojahuga jungle is drawing the Mashraka away from the Zatoran's village, their inevitable destruction has been delayed."

"What shall we do then, great leader?" Tiroz asked. "I know you have a backup plan – you always do."

Zahkraz smiled and charged some of his energy in his hand. "Simple, Tiroz – very simple. We are going to give the Mashraka a bait to follow – one that will lead them straight to our enemies, and our enemies straight to their destruction."

Quickly setting down some medical instruments, Nortis rushed over to Vieta's bed, spurred to action by the noises that the Zatoran commander had begun to make. As the wounded warrior finally began to stir, Nortis urged her on, whispering encouraging words into her audio receptors. "Come on, Vieta, you can do it," the three-legged healer said quietly to Vieta. "Just give it all your strength…."

Still caught in the bowels of unconsciousness, Vieta struggled in her sleep for some time, shaking and groaning as if she was fighting an unseen enemy. Her heartlight was flickering rapidly, and her mouth was twisted in a painful frown. With each passing second, Nortis grew less hopeful, and he began to wonder if this strange occurrence was his patient's last breath rather than a battle to awake.

Finally, after a long struggle, Vieta quieted down for a second. Then, to Nortis' relief, the fight ended, and his patient opened her eyes for the first time in nearly two days.

"Wha… what happened?" Vieta asked timidly. Her voice was weak and incredibly soft. "Where… where did that light go? Is it gone? It almost… had me… I nearly didn't make it…" Her eyes blinked, and she became aware of the world around her. "Nortis?" she asked.

"I'm right here, Vieta," Nortis said, thankful that Vieta was finally awake. "For a second there, I thought you were still in an unconscious trance, but I guess I was wrong. And for once, I'm glad of that." Reaching over, he gave Vieta a soft hug. "Thanks for fighting it out, warrior."

Vieta hesitated for a moment, still dazed from her experience with near death. Her mouth slowly curved upward into a grin, and she hugged Nortis as well. "Oh mezu, I'm so glad to be back again. If I had to stay in that dreadful prison for one more day, I probably would have gone insane."

"Prison?" Nortis croaked, as Vieta gripped him tightly. If this had been a normal situation, he would have wondered more about his patient's strange words, but it was hard to contemplate things when he was being squeezed to death in the thankful arms of a Zatoran commander. Pushing himself away, he gasped for air. "Sheesh, Vieta," he remarked, "you've just woken up and you're already hugging me harder than a Morog Bear!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Vieta exclaimed, hoping she had not hurt Nortis. It seemed that she had misjudged her strength, even though she now had only… three arms? She gazed down at the stump where her lower left arm had once been, looking as if the reality of her injury had finally set in.

Fortunately, however, the memories of her conflict with Ska did not have a chance to resurface, for she had already exhausted what little strength she had regained. "Ugh, I think that took all the energy out of me though," she said tiredly. She yawned and closed her eyes. "I think I need some more rest…"

And with that, Vieta fell asleep. However, it was not a painful sleep - not like it had been before. On the contrary - for the first time in a long while, she looked relaxed, and her heartlight was glowing bright. Although the recollections of her battles with the Exiled Ones would eventually set in, the necessities of rest had temporarily spared her the pain of remembering the horrible things that had taken place that night. It seemed that, for now, she was safe from both physical and mental darkness, two vile ailments which had plagued her in the days since her injury. And Nortis couldn't have been more relieved.

"I hope you're sure about this," Olan remarked, as he lead the three heroes to a small hut at the edge of the town.

"You've already said that 3 times, Olan," Jorvak replied. "But just for the record, maybe it would help if you actually explained why Ceratus is a nutcase, instead of simply repeating the same phrase every minute."

"You want an explanation?" Olan said sarcastically. "Fine. Ceratus was the previous scholar of our village, and as such he was constantly confining himself to his studies. Unfortunately for Mirazis, he eventually contracted an obsession with the ten forbidden curses, and for some bizarre reason he hoped he could become the first Zatoran to tap into their powers. So, one day he went out into the grasslands and tried to summon the power of dark fire. Of course, he failed in this attempt, and the shockwave of the resulting magic explosion drove him insane."

Olan paused for a moment, obviously annoyed that he had been asked to recount the tale. "So, there you have it," he finally said. "One selfish scholar put his experiments before his job and the safety of the village, and in the process rubbed off on the successor chosen by the Acolytes. And of course, we know what now happened to him."

Upset at Olan's attitude, Luha responded to the black-armored Zatoran by slapping him in the face, recalling that Vieta had done the very same thing when she was particularly mad at someone. "That's enough, Olan" she said angrily. "You're disrespecting Miro's brave sacrifice with your insensitive comments."

Olan didn't even flinch at the assault. "Don't you talk to me like that, hero," he shot back. "You wanted an explanation, I gave you one – and you better not think you have the right to slap someone far older and more experienced just because his words were a little too harsh for your soft heart!"

Luha was stunned. Out of all the Zatoran that she had met since her arrival in Vorza, Olan had seemed to be one of the nicest and most caring – and many of the other villagers had testified to his kind and gentle personality. But now, it seemed that his whole attitude had started to change, although she had no idea why.

"Olan, what is with you?" Luha asked angrily. "You used to be such a wonderful Zatoran, but now you're smiting one of your closest friends and insulting the beings that were created by the Acolytes to protect you!"

Without even so much of a hint of remorse, Olan whirled around and faced Luha. "I'll tell you what is with me, hero!" he shouted. "I've faced the facts, that's what. Our home is nearly dead, and acting so hopeful in a world without the Acolytes will only get us killed. You might be positive about our situation, seeing that you supposedly are their replacements, but I've come to realize that being oblivious to the real pain and suffering Mirazis is facing is of no benefit to anyone. Brave sacrifices mean nothing in a world where the strongest side wins, and neither does walking in the face of danger like a blind Rata goat with a half-rotted brain!"

Sighing, Olan stopped his tirade as they arrived at the hut where Ceratus was held. Reaching into a woven sack slung over his shoulder, he pulled out a key and unlocked the reinforced door to the building. "If you want to continue acting like you do, fine," he said. "Here's your chance to show that your faith means more than dust and debris. Good luck on that."

Still incredibly confused and angry about Olan's behavior, Luha was about to retort with a loud lecture of her own. Before she could, however, Ebsmod covered her mouth with one of his large hands. "Not a good idea right now, Luha," he said calmly. "He's obviously not in the right mindset."

"Yeah, and besides, we have more important things to do," Jorvak added. "Like, seeing how bad off this former scholar really is."

Slowly, Luha nodded her head. As much as she wanted to confront Olan about his callous actions, she realized now that there was no point in trying to argue with someone who had no intention of listening. Hopefully he'll cool off after a little while, she thought. In the meantime, we have business to attend to.

Opening the door of Ceratus's hut, the three heroes stepped into the building. Inside, the hut's single room was a disaster. The floor, the walls, and even the ceiling were covered with sticks, parchments, broken equipment, half-eaten food, and many other bizarre items that they couldn't even identify. Worse, the entire room was coated in a thin layer of dust, which made breathing slightly difficult. The only item that really stood out to the heroes was a small pile of straw, with a dirty and rusted mask sitting on top.

"So, where is he?" Jorvak asked.

Luha headed over to the pile of straw. "Well, maybe this mask will give us a clue – OH!" She backed away in horror, as the mask levitated out of the straw by itself. Was this some kind of magic, or something even worse? Before she could worry much, however, she was relieved when the mask was followed out of the straw by a Zatoran body.

"So, this must be Ceratus," Jorvak said, looking over the former scholar and echoing the unimpressed feelings of the other two heroes. Ceratus was easily the dirtiest Zatoran they had ever seen – his body was covered in dust and rust, and straw was sticking out of his discolored armor. He was so unclean that they could not even tell what element he belonged to, and his metal exterior was dented and charred in spots. However, the only truly bizarre part of his appearance was that, unlike all the other Zatoran, Ceratus had only two regular sized arms and two normal legs. It seemed that, unless he had always been this way, the magic he had experimented with had mutated him as well as battered his armor.

Yawning, the odd ex-scholar smacked his lips and blinked his eyes. Out of the blue, he gasped, and his eyes lit up in shock. "Good heavens, It's almost six!" he exclaimed. "I must have slept too long! Oh deary me, I must get back to work!" Muttering some nonsensical words, he rushed past the heroes without even acknowledging them, and picked up a stone tablet in the northwest corner of the room. "Yes, my research is almost complete!" Ceratus shouted excitedly. "As soon as I finish translating this tablet, the power of the Acolytes will finally be harnessed by Zatoran-kind!" Satisfied, the strange Zatoran rushed back to the straw pile, and began to murmur more gibberish. "Matou Nutey Tahoono Bautruca Makatua Kanooey – AHA! That's it, I knew I was right about that phrase!"

As Ceratus continued to babble, Luha cautiously approached him and tried to make out what was on the tablet. Strangely, it was blank.

"Um, excuse me?" the guardian of protodermis asked, trying to get his attention.

"AH!" Ceratus exclaimed. "I was right, ghosts do exist!" He turned and faced Luha. "Oh… I beg your forgiveness, Vieta - I did not notice you were here! Have you come to borrow that book on combat again? Say, you've gotten a lot taller since I last saw you. And, hey, I never realized you had two arms just like me!"

Luha winced at the Zatoran's odd reaction. It had now become very obvious to her that Olan had not exaggerated about the ex-scholar's insanity. "No, Ceratus, I'm not Vieta," she tried to explain. "My name is Luha, and I –"

"You need that book, of course Vieta!" Ceratus replied. "Here, let me get it" Before Luha could respond, Ceratus had hobbled over to a large pile of junk in another corner of the room. He began rummaging through the broken trinkets and items, until he pulled out a black item that vaguely resembled a burnt pile of parchment. "Here you are, Vieta," he said cheerfully. "One delightful book on the ferocious and cutthroat fighting techniques of Lukamo." Grinning, he walked over and handed the burnt book to Luha.

Realizing that Ceratus would never understand who she really was, Luha reluctantly decided to go along with the act. "Thank you, Ceratus," she replied. "However, I have something else to ask of you."

"Oh…" Ceratus said quietly. "Well, what is it then – and be quick, I have work to do!"

"It's simple," Luha explained. "I am trying to identify a creature that has appeared in Mirazis, and I need you to help us find it in one of the Acolytes' books."

"A scavenger hunt then?" Ceratus said excitedly. "Lovely! Let's get to work." Immediately, the ex-scholar headed towards the entrance of the hut and clanked straight into a bizarre object. "Strange, I've never felt air like this before," he said, rubbing his hands over the unusual blockage.

Ebsmod smiled and opened the door of the hut, which the heroes had closed right after entering. Ceratus headed out the doorway and began humming, when suddenly he was grabbed by Olan, who had been waiting outside.

"When did I ever say that you could let him out of there, heroes?" Olan said angrily, looking at the three guardians like they were criminals that needed to be disciplined.

"Please Olan, we may be onto something," Luha replied. "Just let us watch him, okay?"

Olan frowned. "Fine, fine – not like losing him will do this village much harm." Without another word, the Zatoran of Tar left, leaving Ceratus free to hobble away.

It took some time, but the three heroes finally managed to direct their new Zatoran "friend" to the scholar's hut, which had not been touched since Miro had passed away. Humming a rather odd tune, Ceratus stumbled in happily, and immediately began rummaging through the bookshelves that lined the hut. "So, creatures, is it?" he said causally. "What kind of creatures are you looking for?"

"Big creatures," Jorvak said, as the heroes entered the hut. "Big and angry."

"OH! Then you must be looking for the Ulanu bull!" Ceratus replied, pulling out a book on land creatures.

"No, we need a creature that has four arms and a tail," Ebsmod said.

"Ah, you are referring to the Pintu Ape, native to the Orojahuga jungle!" Ceratus replied, throwing away the book he held and picking up another.

"No," Luha said. "The creature we're looking for has huge claws, blood red eyes – and sucks the energy out of everything it touches."

Ceratus dropped the book he had picked up, obviously startled at the description Vieta had given. "Sucks… the energy out of everything?" he exclaimed, looking frightened for the first time since the heroes had met him. "Oh, nonononono, you are not looking for a mere Rahi then," he murmured. The former scholar continued looking through the books on one of the shelves, pulling them out and throwing them away. Finally, he picked up one dark red book with gold decorations on the cover and spine. "Here, this is it," he said. "Come."

As Ceratus began flipping the pages of the book, Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak moved in closer, waiting for him to find what he was looking for. After some time, the ex-scholar stopped on one worn page, which had an illustration that matched Valmoa's description of the mystery monster perfectly. However, what was more startling was the symbol right below the picture. The heroes knew what the sign meant – Miro had told them this before. It was the symbol of pure evil.

"Mashraka - that is what you seek," Ceratus said. "One of the seven incarnated evils of Mirazis, and among the most powerful of them. Eons ago, they were locked away by the Acolytes in a prison that was deemed impossible to enter or escape safely."

"You are sure about this?" Luha asked, trying to determine if this was not just another one of the ex-scholar's mad ramblings.

"Completely!" Ceratus replied, giggling. "Oh, but nothing to worry about – the Mashraka will never escape. If they did, however… well, I'd rather not go into detail." He began laughing mindlessly, and left Miro's hut without another word. "Mashraka, ah, what a silly thing!"

Before any of the heroes could even begin to think about Ceratus' words, the ground began shaking. Looking up into the sky, they saw that huge bursts of energy were raining down upon Vorza, and all of them were being shot from the northeast. Alarmed, the Zatoran were all rushing out of their huts, grabbing weapons and bracing themselves for attack.

"It's Zahkraz!" Ebsmod shouted. "Prepare to defend yourselves, villagers!"

Soon, the entire population had gathered at the front of the village, watching the darkness for any sign of the Exiled Ones or Yahzuhk. Nothing – the energy blasts continued, but no beings came rushing towards the village. Then the energy blast increased their speed and strength, peppering the village even faster than they had before. But there was still no sign of anyone. Finally, the blasts died out completely, and the village was quiet again.

"What was that?" Jorvak asked, staring up into the sky.

"Strange – it's like they weren't actually trying to harm us at all," Luha remarked quietly.

"No, they weren't," a Zatoran called out, as he walked towards the heroes. It was Olan, and he was looking even more depressed than he had been earlier. "At least, not directly. I suppose you haven't been in this world long enough to know much about the great forces of Mirazis yet, have you?"

"What… what do you mean by that?" Luha asked.

Olan lowered his head. "Let's just say that since Miro used to be my friend, I know something about some of the laws that govern Mirazis. The force of Power, which Zahkraz is able to control, has many different uses, but one of the least known is the ability to increase the amount of energy that a location holds."

"Wait a minute," Ebsmod said. "Valmoa told us that beasts that he saw were feeding on the energy of everything around them. Wouldn't that also mean that they would be drawn to the largest source of energy in this land?"

"I'm afraid so," Olan replied. "Zahkraz is creating a trail of strong energy signatures that will lead those monsters straight to Vorza in a few days." He sighed and began walking away. "Prepare yourselves, heroes - we are on the verge of being annihilated."

Solemnly, the villagers headed back to their huts, leaving the three heroes alone. Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak stood there silently, contemplating all they had heard that night. Particularly, they were concerned about what Ceratus had said, about how the Mashraka were far more than mere beasts. Some part of their mind tried to push the words away. Ceratus was just an insane nobody, so anything he said was just the product of lunacy - wasn't it? Deep down inside, however, they knew that Ceratus, in all of his madness, was right. For once in his life, he had spoken the truth - and this truth would soon be coming to kill them all.

Chapter Sixteen

Secrets and Showdowns

"No, Vieta, I insist you stay here!" Nortis shouted, trying to hold his patient down. Vieta, who had been recovering faster than he could have every imagined, was back to her usual feisty attitude, and she had quickly grown tired of lying in bed. Despite all Nortis' urgings and pleadings, the Zatoran commander kept attempting to leave the medical center, and her repeated escape attempts were driving him crazy.

"Are you kidding me?" Vieta shouted back, as she began stepping out of bed. "I'm not just going to sit back here and do nothing, now that I'm awake! Besides, I'm feeling much better and I – Ow!" She groaned, and rubbed her knee. "Okay, I'm feeling somewhat better. Still, do you really think I'm just going to lie around in bed and be lazy just because I was knocked out for a few days?"

Nortis frowned. "You weren't just knocked out, Vieta – you were on the verge of death! I know you're not the type to take advantage of injuries and relax for days on end, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to let you leave the medical center so soon! I've gone to all this work healing you, and now you're going to wear yourself down again!"

"Better to wear my joints down than to weaken my spirit by lying in bed all day,"

Vieta retorted. Her raging eyes calmed, and she leaned the stub of her arm on her head for a moment. Almost immediately after, she pulled it away from her mask in disgust, grimacing and resisting the urge to cry. Though she was trying not to remember her injury or how she had gotten it, her memories of her confrontation with Ska had returned, and she had quickly realized that it would take a while for her to physically and mentally adjust to its ill effects.

After a moment, she lowered her head and turned her attention back to Nortis. "Look, I know you're concerned about me," she said understandingly, "but I still have a duty to my village. I don't even know what's happened since I fell unconscious, and nobody has had the guts to tell me – not even when the guardians visited me after I woke up!"

Nortis sighed. "I know, and I've been meaning to keep it that way for a while. But, with the way our village is going, I suppose I better tell you. A word of warning, though – if you're expecting a positive story, you're in for a major disappointment."

"Being told the truth, no matter how horrible it may be, is better than being kept in the dark," Vieta responded.

"That's what I knew you'd say," Nortis said, rolling his eyes.

"Valmoa has returned from another scouting mission," Olan said, as the three guardians of Mirazis gathered around his desk. "It seems that the Mashraka are moving more slowly than we originally thought. This gives us some time, but not much, so I've decided we need to go on the offensive."

"Um, that's great," Jorvak said, not really meaning it. "There's just a little problem. How exactly are we supposed to harm creatures that suck the energy out of anything that they touch?"

Luha scratched her forehead in frustration. She had been puzzling over the same problem for a long time, and no answers were coming to her. Since the Mashraka absorbed energy through mere contact, her and her brother's elemental powers would likely not do much to harm them. Physical attacks would probably be more effective, but small Zatoran weapons would be next to useless against beings that were as tall as the Yahzuhk. What were they to do?

"Well, we have come up with one possible solution," Olan responded. "Come with me." The black-armored Zatoran got out of his chair and walked out of the Defense Force HQ, without even so much as glancing back at the guardians. Shaking her head, Luha followed after him and beckoned for her brothers to come as well.

After a short walk, they arrived at Wudas' machine shop. Inside, the hut was filled with special equipment and tools, and a square furnace with a built-in conveyor belt was burning at the end of the room. Wudas himself was busy sanding a slab of metal, utilizing a machine that looked something like a small wheel attached to a motor with a handgrip. The device had a long cord running out of the back, which was connected to a bizarre box covered in wires and tubes. The heroes, who were always eager to learn more about the village of Vorza, would have normally been interested in the functions of Wudas' device – but it was making such a loud racket that they were too irritated to care.

"Wudas," Olan called out over the noise, "I presume that you've finished the new weapons?"

"Eh, what was that?" Wudas replied. "Sorry, let me shut off this roto-grinder." Going over to the strange box with the device in his hands, he flipped a switch. To the relief of the heroes, the sander stopped rotating, and the noise died down. "Hm, this is getting annoying," Wudas replied. I wish I had thought to put a switch on the sander instead of the generator connected to it…"

"Wudas," Olan repeated, "the weapons. Are they finished?"

"Oh, yes," Wudas replied. He scurried over to a large metal cabinet bolted to the wall, and opened it. Quickly, he took out several large objects and carried them over to Olan and the heroes. "Here you are," he said proudly. "Three special weapons custom tailored to our guardians' strengths." He handed one weapon each to Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak, who examined them curiously.

"Uh, this is great, but how do you know that these were the best choices for us?" Jorvak asked, looking over the curved weapon that he had been given.

"Oh, not a problem, great hero," Wudas replied. "After witnessing your individual fighting techniques during the battle a few days ago, it was a simple matter of discerning what kind of weapon would best fit those styles of combat." He pointed at Jorvak's weapon first. "Jorvak, you are the most balanced and standard fighter, so it was crucial that I gave you a standard weapon. However, I felt that a regular sword would just not do it, so instead I gave you a sickle. This kind of blade, which I might add is a favorite of Vieta's, is smaller than a sword but is far more aerodynamic and quick in the air."

Impressed with Wudas' description, Jorvak eyed his weapon eagerly. "Nice… very nice," he said.

Next, Wudas gestured at Ebsmod's weapon. "Ebsmod, you on the other hand are the strongest and most aggressive guardian, and I felt that only a giant weapon like this axe would suit your fighting style. Unfortunately, my original design turned out too heavy, so I recast the axe head in a composite metal that is both lightweight and durable. With this axe, your power will increase considerably – although I must say that your strength is already very impressive."

"Well, that settles it," Ebsmod remarked, feeling rather down about himself as he recalled his fit of rage against the Yahzuhk a few days ago. "I really am an angry brute."

"Hey, being a brute has its advantages," Jorvak said, trying to comfort Ebsmod. "Like being able to smash enemies out of the way twice as easily – although personally, I'd rather have precision over crude strength…"

"What about mine?" Luha asked, changing the subject and giving Jorvak a glance that suggested annoyance at his words. "I've never seen a weapon like this before."

"Ah, yes, my most difficult decision," Wudas replied. "You see, your fighting style is unlike anything I've ever seen before. So graceful, and yet so ferocious at the same time, that it forced me to come up with a unique weapon. I call it the double pike, and it serves equally well in offense and defense. It hits hard and fast with its two spiked ends, and can block weapons, claws, and anything else thanks to the tironium rod through the staff."

"Thank you, Wudas," Luha said. She turned to Olan. "So, I suppose you mean for us to attack the Mashraka with these weapons, right?"

"Whatever gets the job done," Olan replied. "And I suggest you go immediately. We're running out of time."

The there heroes nodded, and left the hut. "Come on, guys," Luha said. "We have a lot of work to do. And Jorvak," she added, looking at her green-armored brother, "could you please think more carefully before trying to make one of us feel better?"

"Um… sure," Jorvak said quietly, not quite understanding what Luha had meant. Now, of course, he realized that his words towards Ebsmod might have not been the best choices, but his intention had been good… hadn't it? Then again, it seemed that, ever since he started other beings, he had been struggling to not come out with truthful depictions of his thoughts while talking to them. Perhaps he felt a need to speak his mind, or perhaps he just was a little too honest, but only now had he started to consider what effect that personality might have on his reputation. If he continued doing this, would the other guardians be as keen to share their thoughts with him? Or would they just hide their feelings from him, leaving Jorvak without any way to deepen his relationship with his friends?

Needless to say, it wasn't a comforting thought, especially since they were going into battle very shortly. For, without unity, there would be no teamwork, and without teamwork, there was no way they could ever hope to defeat the menace of the Mashraka.

Vieta achingly crossed the street over to the defense HQ, trying to keep her balance. She hurt all over, and the pain in her legs was especially significant. However, at the moment it was no more than a minor annoyance, at least compared to what was actually on her mind. "My village is in shambles," she murmured. "We're about to be attacked by giant beasts, and my dear friend Miro is gone!" Once again, she struggled to hold back tears – crying had never been a preferable practice for her. "This feels like a nightmare – except that it's really happening."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Olan had just come out of the old guard hut. This was strange – the building had not been used for years. Fighting against her pain, she ran over to the black-armored Zatoran. "Olan!" she said, "What's going on?"

"Oh, Vieta," Olan replied, without a change in his expression. "So, you're awake. Good, now excuse me."

Vieta winced at Olan's reaction. From what Nortis had told her, Olan had taken the attack on Vorza harder than most of the other villagers – but she was still shocked that he seemed so uncaring about the recovery of one of his friends.

Deciding that it was best not to ask about his condition, she instead questioned him about the guard hut. "No wait, what were you doing in there, Olan?" she asked.

"You haven't heard, I guess," Olan replied. "One of the Exiled Ones overstayed his 'visit' to Vorza, and we responded by locking him up in that old shack. I've been attempting to extract information from him about his little cronies, but so far it isn't working well at all. It seems that Ska is just the latest fool to fall victim to insanity."

"Ska?!" Vieta gasped. "You're saying that Ska's in there?" Considering that Ska had been able to defeat and nearly kill an extremely experienced warrior, she was shocked that the very same Exiled One who had cost her an arm was now locked up. The knowledge was satisfying in a way, but at the same time it was also unsettling.

"What do you think?" Olan replied sarcastically. "Anyway, I've just about given up on him. In a few more days I'll probably just tie him up and have Valmoa bring him to the Urjad plains. I'm not cold enough to kill him, but I'm not tolerant enough to have him occupying the guardhouse for no reason."

Vieta did not reply. Inside, she was experiencing a wide array of emotions over the news of Ska's current fate. She felt pain, resentment, smugness, and even pity. However, all of those feelings were overshadowed by her pure anger – and every Zatoran in Vorza knew that Vieta made rash decisions when she was angry.

"Let me talk to him," Vieta blurted out, her eyes barely hiding her intense rage.

Olan batted an eye. "Are you sure you've gotten enough rest, Vieta?" he remarked. "You're the one that he has a grudge against. If anything, your presence will probably drive him out of his insanity and renew his hatred."

Vieta leaned forward. "Let. Me. Talk. To. Him," she repeated, emphasizing every word intensely.

"Whatever," Olan said, shrugging. "Just don't get yourself killed again." Sighing, he handed her the key to the guard hut and walked away.

Straightening her posture, Vieta slowly unlocked the door and stepped inside the guard hut. As she had expected, Ska was chained to the wall at the back of the room. He was sitting on a bed of straw, staring into the distance and grinning madly. At the sight of Vieta's entrance, his body wavered slightly, but his expression did not change.

"Why, what a surprise," he said quietly. "So, it seems I didn't finish you off, Vieta. Maybe next time I should aim for the neck instead of the arm. Yes, I bet that be much more effective."

"Next time, you'll be dead before you can even react," Vieta replied, narrowing her eyes.

"Hm, it seems that you've regained your trademark fire as well," Ska remarked. "You really weren't acting like your usual fierce self before I cut your arm off."

Vieta snarled and slapped Ska's mask. "You want to know why, Exiled scum?" she yelled. "Because I was trying to give you another chance, instead of just striking your down like I could have. I was giving you a chance to stop living in the lies that you've concocted in that twisted head of yours. You've conned yourself into becoming a self-centered tirag who thinks that he's been wronged. Well, you haven't been wronged. You ARE wrong, and you'll stay in this prison until you shape up and repent for your crimes!"

Ska's eyes widened slightly for a second. Instead of replying, however, he burst out in an enormous, ragged laugh. The sound of his cackling rang through the guard hut, echoing off the stone walls like the scream of a sand wraith.

"Repent…" he finally said, after his laughter finally subsided. "Such a strange word coming from you. After all, you've never even thought of doing it yourself."

"Doing it myself?" Vieta asked angrily. "What in Nisoka's name are you talking about? Why would I, of all people, need to apologize for turning a traitor in? Are you insane?"

"Insane… perhaps, but I'm certainly not stupid." Ska replied. "That's beside the point, however. What matters is that you've never even once considered repenting for anything that you did all those years ago. And why should you? Up till now, life had always gone well for the law abiding citizens of Mirazis, and obeying the Acolytes feverishly guaranteed protection and high honors. Even more so if you were able to expose a traitor to all of Mirazis and foil his dastardly plot!"

"I did that because it was the right thing to do," Vieta retorted. "Not that you would know anything about making the right choices, anyway."

Ska smiled. "Ah, I suppose you're right about that one. But if there's anything I do know, its emotions. There are so many ways to deduce a fool's thoughts, from the tone of his voice to the movement of his hands. On the other hand, doing this with a hardened warrior like you is a whole different matter. However, no matter what expression a Zatoran has on his face or in his posture, one part never lies: the eyes. Oh, you can hide behind emotionless stares and rigid stances, but the glow of a being's optics will betray the feelings of even the coldest villager."

"There… is an old saying," Ska continued, after pausing for a moment. "The glare of a Morog bear is enough to shatter a thousand mountains. One look is all it takes to change a being's feelings for years. I saw your look that night, and it was no look of nobility or justice. It was glee, plain and simple."

"You lie!" Vieta shouted, slamming one of her metal fists into the stones right above Ska's head. "A being as corrupt as you would never know what honor looked like!"

"Keep telling yourself that, Vieta," Ska replied. "But we both know the truth. You didn't turn me in just because it was the will of the Acolytes, or because you were a greater, more righteous being than me. You turned me in because you knew it would benefit your reputation. Oh yes, justice was all well and good. But what could beat fame and glory above your fellow villagers – not to mention favor in the sight of your guardians?"

"LIAR!" Vieta screamed, punching Ska's mask.

"You were out for yourself, Vieta," Ska continued, ignoring the blow to his face. "You didn't care about me, or my friends. You were too caught up in yourself. You were the selfish one!"

Vieta had had enough. Launching herself forward, she tore Ska's mask off and lifted him up by the neck. "You… are…a…"

"…victim," Ska cut her off, straining to talk through Vieta's strong grip. "A fellow Zatoran who was thrown aside in the name of glory and honor. You know it – your eyes betray you, muzaka!"

Screaming, Vieta raised her first and prepared to pummel Ska with all her might. Grinning, Ska closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable blow to his body. It didn't come. Vieta threw him down on his straw bed and staggered back, looking more even more hurt than the night she had lost her arm. Snarling, she gave the helpless Exiled Zatoran one final look, and left the guard hut in a fury.

As the door closed and locked, Ska smiled to himself. "It's all clear now, Vieta," he said quietly. "You once were lost in your foolish, prideful notions about the world. You thought you could put yourself on a high and honorable level above me and my counterparts, looking down upon the Exiled Ones with 'noble' zealousness."

He smiled, and reclined on his straw bed. "But now you see how wrong you were, Vieta," he said, with a look of satisfaction on his face. "Now you see why you are, truly, no better than me."

Chapter Seventeen

Restoring the Peace

Breathing heavily, Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak trudged across the wet grass of Rauga valley, watching for any signs of the mysterious beasts called the Mashraka. The sun had begun to set, and if it had been a peaceful night, the three guardians would have taken time to gaze at the beautiful colors that it created in the sky. But, as Luha had learned since her encounter with a Torgix Rocksnake, there was no time for admiring the beauty of Mirazis when a being had a job to do. Their ghastly new foe was approaching Vorza rapidly, and each hour brought the sacred village of the Acolytes closer to its doom.

"Not to be a pain," Jorvak asked Luha, looking over at his blue-armored companion, "but… are you sure about this?"

"Obviously not, Jorvak,' Luha replied quietly. "This wasn't my idea, and I'm beginning to have doubts about whether it will actually accomplish anything."

"Beginning to have doubts?" Jorvak remarked. "I've been worried about this whole plan since before we even left the village. I don't know about you, but something tells me that Olan was a bit worse for wear when he concocted this scheme. Maybe it's the odds we're up against that are making me nervous – has anyone stopped to consider how outnumbered we probably are?"

"Well…" Ebsmod began to reply, but he was cut off by Luha, who waved her hand and put her finger to her mouth. Up ahead, the three heroes could see a huge glowing field of energy, which was flickering like lightning and scattering like leaves in the wind. Around it, plants were dying and turning into dust, and the energy field was growing stronger by the moment. Quickly, the guardians dove behind a large rock, and discussed the disturbing matter among themselves.

"Okay, now I know it's definitely the odds," Jorvak muttered, looking very worried.

"How many do you think there are?" Ebsmod asked nervously. "I expected a large number, but that glow they're generating is simply enormous!"

Luha frowned. "Well, it doesn't matter – we've came this far, so it's our duty to stop these beasts." She hesitated for a moment, and then added, "Even if it costs us our lives."

Ebsmod and Jorvak looked at each other, shocked at the words of their fellow guardian. Dying to save the Zatoran? The concept was simply bizarre to them, despite how much time they had already spent in Mirazis. And in fact, it seemed almost foolish, considering how many other dangers were still in the land. What if the Exiled Ones took the deaths of the guardians as a chance to finish their revenge upon the Zatoran? What if the Yahzuhk used the opportunity to conquer Mirazis once and for all? The thought was too scary to even think about for long.

"No, that won't work at all." Ebsmod said. "We can't take a risk that strong yet. That would put the Zatoran's lives in jeopardy."

"Then we'll just have to be extra careful," Jorvak replied, grinning lopsidedly. "Come on, I have an idea."

After going over Jorvak's plan, the three heroes agreed on a course of action and prepared to attack. Using the element of surprise, they snuck closer to the horde of Mashraka, ducking behind trees and patches of tall grass. Silently, Jorvak gave the signal to Ebsmod, who nodded and sprang up from behind a bristleleave tree trunk and yelled with all his strength.

The Mashraka, who were in the middle of a large fight among themselves, looked at the strange figure heading towards them. They were driven solely by instinct, so to them the being was nothing more than another source of energy. However, they didn't understand why the stars had suddenly grown dark. Had they grown powerful enough to absorb the light of the sky as well?

With the force of a dozen boulders, the gigantic tidal wave of tar that Ebsmod had created slammed into the Mashraka, knocking them senseless. Meanwhile, Jorvak had snuck to the back of the horde, and quickly attacked two of the leaders of the pack. He dodged the claws of several Mashraka, slicing the air threateningly with his sickle. Without even hesitating slightly, the beasts charged him. In a split second, he executed a frontal summersault over their heads, landing right behind their tails. Before the beasts could react, he had sliced the ugly appendages off, sending bursts of energy everywhere. As the beasts screamed in agony, Jorvak summoned a blast of lightning that channeled into the Mashraka's form. After a few seconds, the monsters exploded in a maelstrom of energy.

Elsewhere, Luha was distracting a section of the horde with gigantic hands of protodermis, which she slammed into the leading Mashraka with impressive force. Their energy-absorbing powers quickly dissipated the liquid, but the strength of the blows was slowing their assault. This gave Jorvak enough time to charge through, slicing their limbs off and causing dozens of energy explosions.

The plan was working – while half of the Mashraka were caught in Esbmod's hot tar, the other half were trapped between Jorvak's physical blows and Luha's blasts of protodermis. However, Ebsmod was quickly running out of elemental energy, and the Mashraka he was distracting kept charging forward. Seeing that his fellow guardian was in trouble, Jorvak summoned a snowstorm that froze the tar to the Mashraka's skin.

"We've almost got them!" Jorvak shouted excitedly. His mood began to change, however, when he noticed that the ice he had created was beginning to fracture and melt. He responded by summoning more ice, but it kept cracking. Finally, it shattered, sending razor-sharp shards of frozen tar everywhere.

Reacting quickly, Jorvak formed a shield of ice to protect himself and Ebsmod. Through the ice, they could see the Mashraka Luha was fighting had somehow grown back their limbs. In fact, the very two beasts that Jorvak had "killed" were reforming right before their eyes! Their energy was swirling and taking shape, and in mere seconds the two monsters were completely present again.

"Any more ideas?" Ebsmod asked.

"Running for our lives sounds like a good one," Jorvak replied.

"I feel like I should stop listening to you already," Ebsmod said. "But you're right – we have no choice. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how we'll escape the horde now."

"Good thing that I have another idea!" Jorvak replied. Calling on his power, he shattered the ice shield above them into millions of tiny icicles, and caused them to rain upon the Mashraka, piercing their forms like needles through mud. While the beasts regenerated their forms, he and Ebsmod ran over to Luha, who was relieved at their arrival.

"Ebsmod! Jorvak!" she shouted. "Thank heavens - I almost thought you were lost!"

"We need to get out of here now, Luha," Jorvak said. "And I mean, now."

Luha raised an eyebrow. "I can't say I disagree with that notion anymore, but what do you suggest?"

Jorvak smiled. "Simple. We just need you to create a little proto spout."

In the meantime, the Mashraka had fully regenerated their hides, and had begun to rush at the three heroes – only to discover that their prey was not staying around to fight. Right before their eyes, the three elemental beings launched up into the air, propelled by a huge spout of protodermis. As they fell through the air, continual spouts of protodermis launched them through the sky, and they quickly headed out of the Mashraka's sight.

"I told you this would work!" Jorvak shouted, as the heroes flew through the air.

"Just be careful on the landing," Ebsmod added.

From their cheerful words, it would have seemed that the three guardians were not especially upset about what had just transpired, even after their close escape. However, inside, the heroes were not happy in the least. Despite all that they had attempted, they knew they had failed to stop the threat, and the village of Vorza was quickly running out of time. It seemed hopeless, but they knew had to find some way to defeat the Mashraka - or else the Zatoran would soon be left without a home.

Vieta growled and sliced at the arm of a training drone, executing a series of complex attack patterns in the process. The training drone dodged her assault, and slammed her back with its fist. She grunted as she was thrown into the ground, and her temper flared. Quickly, she flipped over the drone and slashed at its arm again. Again, the drone maneuvered around and slammed her in the back. This time, the wind was knocked out of her, and she slumped down in pain.

What is with me? she asked herself. I can't land a single hit on this thing! Just a couple weeks before, I was shredding them up like paper, and now they're beating me instead!

As the combat drone turned around, Vieta's anger boiled over. Picking herself up, she screamed and hurled herself at the machine. She slashed the arms off, then the legs, then the head, and finished by crushing the remains under her feet. All the while, she was screaming curses at the twisted metal, and her voice was echoing though the entire town of Vorza.

Finally, she calmed down, and realized how immaturely she had been acting. "What… what am I doing?" she asked herself. "I came over here to blow off some steam, but I'm just making a fool of myself!" She looked down at the broken combat drone. "And now I've made extra work for Wudas as well. Just great…"

"Did somebody call my name?" a voice rang out. Vieta looked up, and saw Wudas coming over the hill.

"Vieta, are you okay?" Wudas asked. He then noticed the remains of the drone that Vieta had smashed. "I guess I don't need to ask. Sheesh, looks like you've done more damage this time than ever before. Something tells me I'm not doing a good enough job making these things…"

"No, it's my fault, Wudas," Vieta said. "I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"This sure does seem familiar," Wudas remarked. He put his hand on Vieta's shoulder. "Don't worry – it's not surprising that you're feeling a lot of anger after losing your arm to that Exiled tirag. I'm sure that we'd all act the same way if we were in your shoes."

Would you? Vieta thought. Her mind began to wander, and her thoughts drift into the past. The memories were clear as day. It was 285 years ago, on the night that Ska's treachery had come to light. The entire population of Vorza had brought him and his fellow conspirators to the Ancient Tower. The traitors were shackled with chains, and guards stood all around the convoy. Ceratus, the current scholar of the village, was leading the train of prisoners, and Vieta was walking right beside him.

They reached the top. The Acolytes had magically expanded the stone floor so every villager could climb up the tower's stairs and witness the sentencing. A light beamed down, and a voice called out. It ordered Ceratus to step forward. The scholar explained the crimes of Ska and his counterparts – how they had planned to reawaken one of the Seven Ancient Evils and unleash it on the Acolytes. He brought Vieta forward, who repeated what she had heard from Ska himself. The voice in the light asked for the Sworn Oath of Truth, which Vieta recited.

The voice was silent for a second, and then acknowledged Vieta's account as fact. It commanded the villagers to bring the traitors over to the pedestal. They complied, and set them down on the stone table in the center of the tower. The light began to expand, and in a great flash it consumed Ska and the other criminals. When the brightness retracted, the convicted Zatoran were gone.

After standing in awe for some time, the villagers headed down the tower's stairs. Vieta was the last to leave, and as such she was the one that locked up the tower that night. As she closed the trapdoor leading to the top of the structure, she thought about how her life would improve, now that the Zatoran all knew she had saved Mirazis from destruction. And as she shut the doors of the tower, a smile broke out on her face….

"Vieta!" Wudas exclaimed. "Are you going to answer me or not?"

Shaken from her memories, but not from their impact on her feelings, all Vieta could do was mutter a half-hearted "Sorry." It had been years since she had ever recalled that fateful moment in her life – the moment where she had risen above all of the other guards and forever changed how the other Zatoran treated her. Before she had resisted Ska's shrewd and despicable lies and persuasion, she had been known as nothing more than an arrogant, low-ranking sentry, who had a high vision for Mirazis but did not have any experience or wisdom to convince any sensible being to listen.

But that all changed when she had bravely exposed Ska and his fellow conspirators. The villagers all labeled her as an unlikely hero – a guard who had overcome her dubious reputation and troubled past, defying Ska's sly ploys and saving Mirazis from a cunning, sadistic monster. The other defense force members were jealous of her courage, and though the Acolytes never shared their personal feelings, rumors spread that deep inside their elegant, formal exteriors, they were very pleased. It was all too good – the honor, the attention, the envy – and best of all, there had been no hidden consequences of her actions in the hundreds of years since. And why would there be any? After all, no hero worth his salt would apologize for saving an entire land from harm – would they?

Would they? Vieta thought. Then, the answer struck her. Immediately, she began heading back to the guard house. "I'm sorry Wudas, I have to do something!" she shouted at her friend, who was staring at her with a look of confusion.

Wudas blinked his eyes, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Sighing, he bent down and began rummaging through the parts of the broken combat drone. There was an explanation for all the strange behavior going on in Mirazis, he knew, and everyone would find out eventually. But, he had no intention of wasting precious moments of thought on this minor distraction. He was a mechanic, not a scholar, and these kinds of puzzles were best left to the wiser, more psychologically knowledgeable beings in Mirazis.

Besides, there was work to be done. Olan had just commissioned him to make a special batch of weapons for the Defense Force, emphasizing the "dire situation" they were in. Normally, he would have not been the one to panic, but even Wudas's mechanically-minded personality was starting to worry. The Mashraka were still on the move, and it seemed that nothing would stop their advance. Nothing, except perseverance… and a severe dose of old-fashioned luck.

Taking a deep breath, Vieta slowly opened the door to the guard hut, trying her best to keep her composure. As she expected, Ska was still sitting on his straw bed and grinning madly, never once changing his expression from the cold, crazy smile that he had been wearing ever since the battle in Vorza.

"Well, Vieta," Ska remarked, leaning casually on his arm, "have you learned anything since our last encounter? Or are you still as stubborn as an Ulanu bull in captivity? I suspect the latter, but it really doesn't matter to me. Whether you paid attention to the lesson I gave you or not, an 'esteemed' Zatoran like yourself would never openly admit any wrongdoing to Exiled slime like me – would you?"

Sighing, Vieta calmly told herself to ignore Ska's callous remarks. She had never been one for self control, but she knew it was time to put aside her anger for once and to focus on her objective. "Look, Ska," she said quietly, "I didn't come here to lecture you…"

"Good, then get out," Ska replied harshly. "I've completed my revenge in a satisfactory way, even though I didn't accomplish it quite the way I had anticipated. There's nothing left I need to say or do to you, so why don't you just leave this content Exiled One alone and -"

"No, listen to me Ska!" Vieta repeated, cutting him off. "I'm not here to assault you – not now anyways. I've come for a whole different reason." Lowering her head, she struggled against her inner emotions for a while, and then finally utters three incredible words. "Ska… I'm sorry."

For the very first time since his creation hundreds of years ago, Ska's eyes lit up with pure shock. In all of his mocking, cruelty, and hatred, he had never once expected a reaction like that to come from Vieta. His face quickly darkened, however, and he looked at Vieta with a snarl. "Is this some kind of joke?" he asked, surprised beyond belief. "Vieta? Actually apologizing? No… I see your expression. You're lying."

Growling, Vieta started to lash out at Ska, but she quickly caught herself. Slowly, she started to speak again, and this time, her eyes totally relinquished the anger that they had previously held. "I'm sorry Ska," she repeated. "Sorry… for what I did to you all those years ago. Though I never would have dreamed of this happening, you revealed to me the hypocrisy that I've carried and ignored since the day that I turned you in. Yes, I was following the law, and yes, I was doing what was pleasing in the Acolytes' sight. But… I was doing it all for my own glory. I turned in a fellow Zatoran so I could gain favor in everyone's sight, and in the process I sent you to Krall with a mind consumed by sadness and anger."

She lowered her head again. "You were right, Ska. I wronged you. Although it took hundreds of years, I finally understand why you've raged on for so long."

Ska's jaw dropped, and his breathing became heavier. His eyes stared into Vieta's, looking for any sign of trickery or falsehood. There was none – Vieta was sincere. "You…. you're telling the truth?" he stammered. "No, this isn't right – my vision must be decaying. I never expected…"

"I know this sounds odd, Ska, especially considering how I was acting yesterday." Vieta replied. "But I do mean what I'm saying. I've realized that I committed a serious crime in my actions all those years ago. Make no mistake – I still feel that what I did was right. However, I was doing it for the wrong reason. It wasn't just about helping my village – in fact that was not the main reason for my actions. It was about rising up in the Zatoran society and looking good in everyone else's eyes. I was selfish, and for that I am deeply sorry."

Ska looked at Vieta intensely, trying to find some speck of falsehood in her expression, her pose – anything that would expose contrary feelings. When he could find no sign of deception, he closed his eyes and sighed. "I… I just don't understand this," he said. "When I attacked you last night, I only was using it as a way to hurt you – just like everything else that I've done since I escaped Krall. I never, ever thought you'd actually apologize."

"I never thought that either until now," Vieta replied. "But I guess I didn't know myself as well as I thought I did." She smiled sadly. "Ska, I'm asking you to forgive me. I know it sounds crazy, but I want to end the strife between us."

"After all the crimes I've committed against your village – and against you?" Ska exclaimed. "Why would you be willing to do that? Why would you be willing to forgive a being who you once considered scum?"

"It's crazy, I know," Vieta answered. "But, then again, doing what's right usually is." And with that, she turned around and slowly walked out of the guard hut, gently closing the door behind her.

Struggling with all the emotion left in his bitter heart, Ska sat on his bed quietly and contemplated every word Vieta had spoken. He analyzed the sentence structure, recalled the tone of her voice, and scanned every one of her expressions – trying deeply to understand what had just taken place. His mind was racing, attempting to come up with a good reaction to what he had witnessed. It was nothing like he had ever experienced before – for no one had ever apologized to him in all 393 years of his life.

Finally, after a long time, something surfaced from deep within his stone cold exterior. Even as it happened, his mind was still filled with disbelief, and his heart had reached a point that just days ago he had deemed unfit for a being like him. Hands cradled in his lap, and his body utterly relaxed, his eyes lit up, and he uttered two, quiet words.

"Thank you," he said.

Chapter Eighteen

Approaching Doom

Olan shook his head and collapsed on his desk in frustration. Valmoa, who he had sent to observe the battle between the Mashraka and Vorza's guardians, had returned and just finished giving him a full rundown of the conflict.

The report was not good. The heroes of Mirazis had failed to stop the beasts, and their efforts had barely even weakened the horde. Oh sure, they had caused plenty of damage, but the Mashraka had simply regenerated every lost limb and torn scale in seconds. Worse, the fight had angered the beasts considerably, and now they were rushing doubly fast towards the village. Valmoa had calculated that they had less than an hour before they reached their home – or 43 minutes and 37 seconds, as he put it. And that was counting the time he had taken to explain the situation.

"Why is it that you never have any positive news, Valmoa?" Olan said sarcastically.

Valmoa did not reply. Unlike most of the members of the Defense Force, emotion had never been one of his strong points, and the question that Olan had asked involved actually deciding whether something was happy or sad. To Valmoa, that was like asking a fish to soar in the sky, or a lizard to dive into the ocean for food. And although neither were impossibilities in Mirazis, events that bizarre were rarely ever witnessed.

"I'm at the end of my rope," Olan lamented, not waiting for Valmoa to respond. "This situation just keeps getting worse. Right now I'm almost envying Ceratus – he still thinks he's living in the grand old ages, after all."

"He did help us," Valmoa remarked. "He was the one who showed the warriors what we were actually facing…"

"And did that give us any advantage?" Olan cut him off. "No. Oh, but wait – I forgot that a being can't really understand the difference between victory and defeat unless he actually has emotions."

In response to Olan's harsh insult, all Valmoa could manage was a simple blink of his eyes. Although the stern-faced scout didn't show any outward signs of hurt, in his mind he was deeply upset. His commander knew that he kept his feelings to himself, but Olan's anger and frustration had been overriding his personality more and more in the days since the attack on Vorza. Now it seemed that he was eager to point out all the flaws in the other guards and scouts, and even more eager to do it in a sarcastic and uncaring way.

Before either Valmoa or Olan could say another word, a geyser of water appeared outside the defense HQ, signaling that the heroes had returned. It was soon followed by the rough landing of the three guardians, which scattered wet earth everywhere.

"Well, that was impressive," Jorvak said sarcastically, as he stood up and brushed mud off his armor.

"I'm sorry," Luha replied quietly. "I guess I misjudged the angle of that water spout."

"It seems you've misjudged a lot more than just your landing," Olan said, approaching the three heroes with an angry look on his face. The nearby Zatoran quickly turned their focus away from their various jobs, and silently watched as the commander of the Defense Force confronted the guardians of Mirazis.

"So, care to give me an explanation why you failed?" Olan demanded.

"Failed?" Luha replied. "More so than that - we were overwhelmed. And how did you know?"

"Valmoa, of course," Olan replied harshly. "You've apparently misjudged my scout's speed as well."

Jorvak frowned. "Look, why are you being so harsh on us? Yes, we failed, but don't you care that we nearly got ourselves killed out there? The Mashraka are far more powerful than us, and…"

"More powerful?!" Olan exclaimed. "You complain to me about a lack of power? You three are supposed to be the successors to the Acolytes! You should have no difficulty whatsoever whipping the hides a few cursed Rahi, and yet you've let them whip your armor instead!"

Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak's jaws dropped. They stood rooted to the spot with shocked looks on their faces, stunned at Olan's outburst. All around them, the crowd of Zatoran was whispering among themselves angrily.

"If I didn't have an obligation to protect you, I'd be experiencing a strong desire to show you what it feel like to breath tar," Ebsmod remarked, holding his fists back.

Luha narrowed her eyes. "What is the matter with you, Olan?" she said angrily. "Is this how you treat beings that have dedicated their every second of life to protecting your village?" She approached him, gripping her weapon tightly. "We've risked everything for you – we'd die for you if it meant securing your protection! And what do we get? An angry outburst condemning us for facing a foe far greater than ourselves. You should be ashamed, Olan!"

Olan's face did not waver from anger, and he did not stop staring coldly at the heroes. "You just don't get it, do you?!" he shouted. "Does anyone here realize what is at stake? Our village is the last surviving ray of light in a land that is being overtaken by darkness, and if it falls, Mirazis is doomed! If we were to simply ignore failures as if they were nothing, do you really think we would even have a chance? And with these monsters hot on your trail, is it not wise of me to expect more than the half-hearted effort you have been giving? This is WAR, you fools, not diplomacy!

"Is that all there is to it, then?" Luha retorted. "Crude, mindless fighting without bonding together and approaching a challenge as beings united under a cause?" Slowly, she bent down and looked him in the face. "Olan, do you realize what you've become? You've been treating your fellow villagers like lesser beings, you've disrespected former friends for dying honorably in battle, and now you're lashing out at me and my brothers because we nearly sacrificed our lives to save you from the Mashraka. Is this what you want to be known for? You aren't like this, Olan!"

The crowds were silent as they waited for Olan's reaction. Nothing happened at first, and Luha began to wonder if she had even made any impact. Then, slowly, Olan's expression began to change. His fists unclenched, and he sighed deeply.

"No, Luha." Olan said. "I'm not like this. Or, at least I wasn't at first. But… I haven't been feeling like myself lately. Something's wrong - I'm sure of it, but I have no idea what. I don't seem to even have the strength to apologize anymore." To the shock of the crowd, a tear began to fall from his eye – something that had not happened for as long as anyone could remember.

But his sadness did not last for long. In an instant, the anger returned to Olan's eyes, and his fists tightened up again. "That doesn't matter though. What matters is that we're good as dead." He pointed at the horizon, and began walking away. "Here they come, heroes. I hope you're happy that you've failed."

Resisting the urge to watch Olan stomp away, everyone turned and looked towards the northwest corner of the village. Less than a mile away, the field of energy that the Mashraka were producing had come into view, turning the fields of grass into charred lifeless matter. Instantly, many Zatoran rushed to get their weapons, while the rest retreated deeper into Vorza. Those who had even the slightest amount of combat experience were not about to go down without a fight, but they feared that their feeble defense would not stand a chance against the nightmare that was rapidly approaching.

"We're out of time," Ebsmod said dismally, as he and the other heroes ran to the edge of the village.

"Tell me something that we don't know," Jorvak replied sarcastically. "I hate to say it, but Olan's right. We blew it."

"Don't speak like that!" Luha exclaimed, slapping Jorvak in the mask. "The Mashraka are not here yet, and we still have time to figure out how to defeat them."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Jorvak asked – but Luha had already headed back into Vorza. "Wait! Where are you going?" he shouted.

"Where else?" Luha called back. "I'm going to talk to Ceratus!"

Ska squinted his eyes as Vieta opened the door to his cell for the third time in a row. Being in the dark guard hut for so long had taken away his ability to adjust to the glare of the sunlight, so he usually covered his eyes until a visitor closed the door again. To his surprise, Vieta did not close the door after she had walked in, nor did she stand in front of the entrance.

"What are you doing?" Ska asked suspiciously.

"I'm giving you another chance, of course," Vieta said. "Our village is about to be attacked by some beasts called the Mashraka, and we need every able hand we can find to defend it.

"Wait… you mean me?" Ska asked again. "Do you realize what I've done to you? I nearly killed you – why would you ever trust me to help you again?"

"Why?" Vieta said quietly. "Because I know you've changed, Ska. You've taught me some valuable lessons, and one of them is paying attention to expressions. When I left you last night after apologizing, I saw your eyes. You weren't angry, or even a bit upset. No, Ska, you were shocked, because for the first time in your life you truly understood me."

She smiled. "You forgave me right there in your head, Ska. After all these long years of self-imposed misery, you relinquished the anger in your heart and stopped hating me. I believe you have finally turned over a new leaf, Ska, and I'm willing to take this risk and let you out if it means that Vorza will live on long enough for us to settle our differences."

Ska did not reply, but instead began to search Vieta's expressions harder than he had ever before. His eyes started into Vieta's with a newfound intensity, scanning for any sign of trickery or sarcasm. But he found nothing. Vieta truly did trust him, and that realization gave him feelings that he had not experienced in hundreds of years.

"I'm very surprised at you, Vieta," he finally said. "I always assumed you were terrible when it came to emotions. I guess I was wrong." He lowered his head. "The night after you came and apologized to me, I wrestled with what you had said for hours. I didn't believe it at first, and I was convinced that nothing you said could be trusted. After a while my disbelief turned into refusal. My mind just would not forgive you – and I was adamant in my refusal to acknowledge your plea for forgiveness."

Vieta took a step forward. "So, what happened?"

Ska looked up, and smiled. "I realized something, Vieta. I realized that the only being that was still at fault was me. By refusing to accept your apology, I was turning into the very thing that I had called you – a self-centered traitor. Only, I wasn't being a traitor to you. No, I was being a traitor to myself. My true emotions wanted to come out, and inside I really did want to make amends with you."

"So," Ska continued, "after over 200 years, I finally surrendered, and I forgave you for what you had done. Immediately, I felt better than I ever had in all my years in exile. I actually tasted happiness – and it was wonderful. I want more of it, Vieta. I do!"

Vieta smiled back. "I knew I was right about you, Ska. I'm so glad to see you're back with us." Her expression became more solemn. "Unfortunately, we still have a long way to go before we're out of danger. The Mashraka are going to tear apart this village if we don't stop them in their tracks!"

Ska frowned. "Well then, what are we waiting for? Let me out of these chains so I can help you!"

Vieta nodded, and quickly cut away the chains with one of her blades. "One more thing," she said. "Can I call you Sario again, instead of that horrible curse word that you've used as a name?"

Ska smiled. "Of course," he replied. Standing up, he flexed his muscles, working out all the painful kinks that he had ignored up until now. "Okay then," he said. "I think it's time we show these Mashraka who really deserves to rule Mirazis. Let's go, Vieta."

"I'm with you, Sario," Vieta replied, grinning.

"Ho hum, diddly dum, Akso's got a snifflecold," Ceratus sang, as he "polished" several chewed up books with a rag covered in dust.

"Ceratus, I told you we needed help FROM a book, not that we needed to help the books themselves," Luha said, trying to reason with the insane former scholar.

"It isn't working, Luha," Jorvak said, shaking his head. "Not that I actually expected it to."

"Look, he's helped us before," Luha insisted. "He can help us again too. We just need to somehow get him to understand us."

"Good luck with that," Jorvak replied.

Ebsmod frowned. "I've seen a lot of strange things, Jorvak, but I don't think I've ever met someone as sarcastic and pessimistic as you. Are you trying to make us all feel hopeless, or is it just your natural reaction to trouble?"

"Maybe's it's neither," Jorvak answered. "Maybe it's just that I'm thinking realistically, unlike some people in this village."

"Quiet you two!" Luha exclaimed, as she followed Ceratus around the room. "I'm trying to get his attention!"

In the meantime, Ceratus had finished "cleaning" his books, and was now polishing the very walls of the hut itself. Unfortunately, he failed to notice that Luha was standing next to him, and he tripped over her feet and fell head first into a bucket filled with dirty water.

"Hkkkckraghbleah!" he sputtered, trying to spit all the water out of his mouth. "Ugh, that is the most disgusting Bagoka juice I've ever tasted." He picked himself up, and finally noticed the three visitors to his hut. "Vieta! Olan! Miro!" he shouted excitedly. "How nice to see you again. Need another book?"

"Phew," Luha said. "He's finally paying attention." She turned to the ex-scholar. "Ceratus, we need more information about the Mashraka, and we need to know very quickly, okay?"

"Of course, of course," Ceratus replied. "Come this way, then!" Humming another strange tune, he "led" the three heroes out of his hut. As they walked to Miro's library, the village was quickly turning into a chaotic mess. Zatoran were scrambling to and fro, hiding prized possessions and gathering any objects that could be possibly used as weapons. Some were rushing too quickly and were tripping over market tables, while others were running straight into each other. Vorza was an absolute disaster, and Luha wondered if they would have any chance of surviving the forthcoming attack.

Of course, Ceratus did not understand what was going on. "Wow, is there a party going on today?" he exclaimed. "Everyone seems so joyful and busy – I hope I don't miss anything."

Jorvak rolled his eyes at the scholar's remark, which gained him another slap from Luha. "Ow!" he yelled. "Stop doing that! Just because your friend Vieta reacts like that so much doesn't mean that you have to as well!"

"Maybe I wouldn't be so eager to respond like that," Luha replied, "if you would also stop acting so insensitive. Ah, here we are," she said, as they went into Miro's hut.

Immediately, Ceratus started rummaging through books, searching for the one he had shown the heroes several days ago. "So, Vieta," he said, "what exactly do you want to know about the Mashraka, anyway? Do you want to know their feeding habits, or maybe their pack behavior? I know – how about their attitude towards opponents?"

Jorvak frowned. "Maybe we should start with something my comrades don't already know," he replied. "Like, maybe if it's actually possible to beat these monsters!"

Ceratus's eyes widened. "Oh, that is an interesting question indeed." Looking around, he picked up another ancient book that had a picture of the six elements on the cover. He flipped through the various sections casually, finally stopping at a decorated page with a single short poem written on it. Strangely, the poem was not writing in ancient runes, but in the language of the Zatoran, which the Toa could somehow understand.

"Here, look" Ceratus said, pointing at the poem. The heroes leaned over, and Luha began to read it out loud.

"3 strong elements, three of a kind,

The secret of power, they shall find.

The wrath of the horde is the end of all time

Their might and power draws from their hearts of slime

The ancient Kanohi, gathered from dust

Holds the key to defeating the creators of rust

Pierce their hearts with the incarnate form

And shatter their evil like a tree in a storm

3 strong elements, three of a kind

Unleash their power, and loosen the binds"

"Great, a puzzle," Jorvak sighed, after Luha finished reciting the poem. "We'll never figure out what this means!"

Ebsmod, who normally replied to Jorvak's snide remarks, did not speak. Instead, he carefully went over the ancient rhyme in his head, looking for anything that stood out among the various phrases. "This word…" he finally said, pointing to the fifth line of the poem. "What does it mean?"

"Kanohi?" Ceratus exclaimed. "Oh, you should know that, silly. Kanohi are what you wear – the masks given to you by the Acolytes. Surely you can understand that, can't you?"

"How does that help us?" Luha asked.

"Oh, not really much at all," Ceratus replied. "Zatoran masks are all powerless, lacking anything other than unique designs and color."

"But…" he continued, before anyone had a chance to reply, "If you were the future guardians of Mirazis, then that would be a totally different matter. You see, it was prophesized that the great heroes would come to Mirazis with masks of power, much like the masks that the Acolytes wear. Legends state the Acolytes all have Kanohi that allow them to turn into a literal incarnation of the element of their choosing."

"Wait," Jorvak said. "You mean that I could actually turn into a storm using my mask?"

"No, of course not, silly!" Ceratus replied. "You are a Zatoran! The great heroes have not come, and they have no need to in this glorious time of peace. Maybe in another thousand years or so, but certainly not today. Now, if that is all you wanted to know, I must get back to my home. I still have to finish cleaning, after all." And with that, Ceratus walked out of Miro's hut, singing an odd song about raining Rahi and flying Zatoran.

"Well, at least we have something to go on now," Ebsmod remarked.

"Come on," Luha said, beckoning for the other guardians to follow her. "The Mashraka will be here any minute now. I think it's time to see if these masks are more than just fancy ornaments hanging over our heads."

"I sure hope so," Jorvak said. "Otherwise we're as good as dead."

"They're as good as dead," Tiroz said, gazing at the destructive forces gathering at the north of Vorza. "There's no chance that they'll survive this attack."

Zahkraz smiled. "Tiroz, Tiroz – you are always so sure of everything, aren't you?"

Tiroz gulped, and grinned feebly. "Well, I'm pretty sure of this, anyway. Wouldn't you agree, great leader?"

"Whether they survive or not is of little importance, Tiroz," Zahkraz answered. Without explaining what he had meant, the leader of the Yahzuhk turned towards the Exiled One's makeshift camp. "Worthy Ones!" he called out, using the nickname that he had recently given the former inhabitants of Krall. "We leave Rauga cliff tonight! Gather up your things and prepare to head towards the Huyaza mountains."

Murmurs could be heard throughout the camp, as the Exiled Ones spoke among themselves. From what Gakso had told the group after returning with the Yahzuhk, what Zahkraz was suggesting would only succeed in killing them all. Leave Rauga Cliff and head into Rauga Valley, which was quickly going to be overrun by monsters that had the power to destroy an entire village? Why would any sensible being want to do that? Had their great leader lost his mind?

"It seems that our army is not cooperating," Tiroz said, baring his teeth. "Should I make an example of one of them?"

"That will not be necessary," Zahkraz replied. He began to speak again. "I can see that you do not have the proper motivation," he said to the Exiled Ones. "Very well then – I shall give you some. I tell you this – any of you who follow us to our destination will in fact be healed completely. Your mutations shall be a thing of the past, if you simply join us in a short trek."

Immediately, the Exiled Ones began gathering their supplies and weapons eagerly. Though Zahkraz had not given any reason for them to believe his words of hope, their faces were lit with joy at the very possibility of a cure for their conditions, and not a single one of them would miss this opportunity. Not even Bizor, who was showing an unusual amount of decisiveness and agreement among his two personalities.

"There, simple as that," Zahkraz said, smiling gently.

Tiroz frowned. "Do you really mean what you just said, great leader? How do you plan to accomplish this?"

"I won't be accomplishing anything, nor will you two." Zahkraz replied. "The very place we are heading to will solve the Exiled One's problems without any further effort from ourselves. After all… that is what the Cleansing Waters are known for." He smiled. "Not to mention, that taking our enemy's sacred pools will put a great thorn in their feet. Without the Cleansing Waters to heal them, the Zatoran of Vorza shall soon begin to lose their strength. After that happens, subduing them shall be easy."

Tiroz nodded his head in understanding. Once again, Zahkraz had impressed him with his intelligence and cunning, which for some reason he had been doubting a lot lately. Though he realized that the idea for this move had likely been spur of the moment, it made perfect sense.

Or at least, most of it did. However, one part of Zahkraz's explanation still sounded rather odd to Tiroz. Namely, the confident words of assurance that "capturing the cleansing waters would made subduing the Zatoran easy." It wasn't that they weren't correct in terms of strategy – it was just that they didn't line up with what he knew was their ultimate plan for dominating Mirazis.

Then again, perhaps they did, and he was reading into things too carefully. After all, he had never been the real brains of the Yahzuhk's operation – no, he had always let Zahkraz plot their paths of action. But perhaps the thousands of years spent in imprisonment had weakened his confidence in his leader, to the point where he was not as willing to accept his word without question.

I must work on this issue, Tiroz thought. Of course, I'm sure the imprisonment of an entire land's population will help rectify this situation somewhat. Oh yes, I'm sure it will indeed.

Chapter Nineteen

Returning Blows

Breathing heavily and gripping his gauntlets tightly, Olan signaled for the defense militia to hold their positions. The force of Zatoran was lined up in front of the northwestern corner of Vorza, equipped with various weapons. Some stood on huts and carried crossbows loaded with tironium darts, while others wielded nearly every conceivable type of melee weapon. Next to Olan, the three guardians of Mirazis brandished the specially-made blades Wudas had given them less than a day ago. All of them were nervous to some extent, but they were also determined to protect their village at any cost.

However, even this steadfast courage did not conceal their shock at the forces that were rapidly approaching their village. Directly ahead, the Mashraka horde was rushing at Vorza like a literal storm of energy, screaming and hissing a single, horrid word.

"Muza, Muza, Muza, Muza, MUZA!" the horde screamed, sounding like the crackle of hundreds of thunder claps. Their claws clacked, their tails whipped, and their eyes glowed amidst the light of the evening moon.

"Zatoran, attack upon my order!" Olan shouted. He began to count, even as the Mashraka gained ground with every second. "Omas! Tezu! Timas!"

"Forget the count, commander!" a defense force member interrupted. "We don't have time for this!"

"…Kura! Mavo! Puta!" Olan continued shouting, giving the guard a glare in the process.

"Come on Olan!" another guard shouted. "If we wait any longer, we'll get crushed!"

"Bivis! Ovan! Nuro!" Olan went on, increasing the volume of his voice.

"Olan!" a third guard hollered. "Stop with this smaturg before we…."

"ZAMU!" Olan screamed, brandishing his gauntlets. "ATTACK!"

With a great holler, the Zatoran unleashed a furry of metal darts, spears, and knives at the Mashraka. Seconds away from stampeding over Vorza's defenders, the entire front row of monsters howled in pain and fell over, momentarily halting the horde's approach. The Zatoran cheered, and the ground defenders rushed forward and began cutting into the beasts.

In the midst, Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak were summoning their powers to aid the Zatoran in their attack. Before any of the Mashraka could strike them, their claws and tails were frozen or covered in tar, and their eyes were temporarily blinded with high pressure blasts of protodermis.

However, it was not enough. Several Zatoran still were trampled by the beasts, and several others were being picked up by their massive claws. Despite this, Olan did not order a retreat, even as the commander of the defense force himself was dodging swipes of several Mashraka tails.

"Hold your positions!" Olan shouted at two newer guards, who were trying to escape the claws of one of the beasts. Rushing over, he slammed his gauntlets into the Mashraka's legs, knocking it off balance. Then, pulling a dagger out of a holster on his leg, he sliced through the limbs of the monster and left it writhing on the ground.

Upon viewing this sight, Ebsmod realized they had no time to lose. The Zatoran were fighting bravely, but it would take more than weapons to defeat the horde. "Luha!" he shouted. "It's time!"

Nodding her head, Luha closed her eyes and began to undertake the most complex use of her powers yet. Focusing hard on the hidden energies she assumed were contained within her mask, she summoned the might of a hundred tons of protodermis. Instead of unleashing it, however, she channeled it into her very essence.

At first, nothing happened, and Ebsmod and Jorvak began to wonder if their plan had failed. However, their hope was restored when, suddenly, Luha's armor began to glow. Slowly, her body and even her weapon began to change form, turning from metal and organic tissue into pure elemental power. They swirled and churned, gaining the complexion of water, until not a single bit of solid matter remained.

Even though they had known what would happen when their fellow hero activated her mask, Ebsmod and Jorvak still were amazed. Luha had become a pure entity of protodermis, to the point where her body was completely made out of liquid. She was now floating in the air, rippling like a tsunami and splashing protodermis on the ground. Slowly, she began to levitate upwards, floating in the sky under the power of her own will.

Pushing herself further than she ever had before, Luha flew through the air and headed straight towards the Mashraka, aiming for the center of their upper armor. The beasts shrieked at the sight, and began to turn away and run. They had spent days feeding on the energy of Mirazis, but the sheer power coming towards them was too great for even their abilities to counter. Too pure, too wild, and far mightier than anything that they had ever seen, it was a force that caused what little fear they had within their primitive minds to surface.

However, in their ensuing mad dash for safety, one of the beasts tripped. Before it could get up, Luha had sailed straight through its body, piercing its heart and unleashing elemental energies through its entire form. The beast screamed in pain, as its entire form began to collapse. In seconds, the very energies it had used to suck the Rauga plains dry had absorbed the life out of its own body. With no way to contain its form, the Mashraka exploded in a blast of pure energy, leaving absolutely nothing in its place.

"Incredible…." Jorvak mumbled, awestruck at the sheer power unleashed by his fellow guardian.

"This battle isn't over yet, Jorvak," Ebsmod shouted. "And I don't think Luha can handle these beasts by herself. Come on – it's time we find out what being an element feels like!"

"Right with you, Ebsmod," Jorvak replied, nodding.

Activating their own masks, the two guardians channeled their own elemental power into their forms. Soon, they had turned into beings made of storms and tar, becoming pure incarnations of their respective elements.

"Now, beasts," Jorvak, said, in a voice that sounded like rushing wind, "It is time to face your end!"

"Hopefully," Ebsmod corrected, sounding like a flow of thick tar.

Together, the other two guardians joined Luha, using their pure elemental forms to destroy the Mashraka one by one. The three heroes of Mirazis knew that, even with their increased power, the battle would still be long and hard – and they still did not know whether they would have enough strength to destroy the horde. But, if nothing else, one thing had changed. Now, they had a fighting chance.

"Well, I knew I had to be crazy to go from fighting you to helping you in a single week," Sario said to Vieta. "I just didn't realize that the rest of Mirazis went with me."

After getting weapons, Vieta and Sario had rushed to the north of Vorza. They had expected to see a huge battle unfolding, but they were not prepared for what they had just witnessed. All around them, Zatoran were fighting the Mashraka beasts with every last bit of strength and courage they possessed. What was shocking was that several beings made of elemental powers were also present, and stranger yet, they were actually aiding the villagers.

"This isn't insanity," Vieta replied. "Okay, maybe this is a bit strange, but no more so than what we've already seen, right?"

"Why are you asking me?" Sario said. "I'm the one who spent nearly his entire life blaming you for something that I was partly responsible for. Speaking of which," he added, as several Zatoran started pointing and shouting at him, "I think it's going to take a while for my reputation to go away."

"REPUTATION?!" A voice screamed. "You are what you have done, Exiled scum!" Before Sario and Vieta could turn around, a huge black Zatoran had come up from behind and slammed his fist into Sario's armor. He reeled from the attack, and fell to the ground.

"Olan, no!" Vieta cried, as the leader of the defense force prepared to smash Sario's mask. "He's on our side now!"

"Am I really hearing this, Vieta?" Olan replied. "Have you gone insane?! This traitor nearly killed you! And now you suddenly think he's an ally?"

"Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I've spent time talking to Sario, and we've made up!" Vieta explained, trying to find the right words to describe her newfound friend's sudden change of heart.

"Made up a tall tale, that's what!" Olan retorted. He raised his fist over Ska's mask.

"Olan, please don't do this!" Vieta pleaded.

Olan did not reply, but instead glared at Vieta, raising his fist even higher in the process.

Before he could land a single blow, however, another voice called out at them. "Don't make one move, Olan!" Vieta looked over her shoulder, and saw that one of the mysterious elemental beings was approaching them. Stranger yet, she now realized that it was in the form of one of the guardians of Mirazis!

Olan's eyes widened. "Luha?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?! I thought your plan was to defend this village from the horde, not to confront me for trying to end this Exiled tirag's miserable life!"

"I thought your plan was to defend your fellow villagers," Luha replied, as she hovered over the three Zatoran. "Instead, you're attacking someone who Vieta was just walking out peacefully with a moment ago! Is that really the way a wise commander should act?"

"This is not just 'someone,'" Olan retorted. "This is Ska we're talking about! Do you really believe that…"

"I may not have many strong beliefs yet, considering how new I still am," Luha cut him off. "But one of the beliefs I have developed is that in desperate and dark times, beings change. You are proof enough of that, Olan, and if Vieta believes that Ska has turned over a new leaf, than I believe her as well."

Olan looked at Luha with a mixture of confusion, anger, and pure shock. Had everyone in the whole land of Mirazis gone insane? Before he could reply, however, his attention was turned to the screams of a Zatoran. Somehow, one of the Mashraka had made it deep into Vorza, and it had picked up the villager named Mokar in its claws.

Realizing that the Zatoran cook was moments away from death, Sario rushed over before anyone else could react. Brandishing the dagger that Vieta had given him, he sliced off the legs of the Mashraka, who shrieked and let go of Mokar. Luha took notice, and flew towards the beast, plowing into its heart and obliterating it.

Picking himself up, Mokar prepared to thank his rescuer – until he realized that the being that had saved him was an Exiled One. "What in the name of Ghoulbiters?" he exclaimed.

"Let's just say that I've had a change of heart," Sario explained. "I just hope that people will realize that."

Nodding at Sario, Luha flew back towards the battlefield, casting a warning glance at Olan in the process. The black Zatoran looked like he was about to explode again, but he held his temper in and went over to Sario.

"Listen here, Exiled One," Olan said sternly. "What you did may be courageous, but that doesn't mean I trust you. In fact, I doubt whether I'll ever trust you. However… if you want to help, than fight the Mashraka all you want. It would be better for you to die in battle on our side than for you to live as an unrepentant traitor."

"I'll take that as a yes," Sario replied, and he gently pushed past Olan to head into battle. Vieta followed, leaving Olan alone. The leader of the Zatoran defense force hesitated for a moment, despite the increasing urgency of the fight between Vorza and the Mashraka. As Luha had said, something had happened to him that had changed his entire attitude to everything. At that moment, however, all he could feel was confusion – a condition that his increasingly stubborn mind had not experienced since he had fought Golga several days ago.

Finally, after staring at the raging conflict for a while, he sighed and went to rejoin the battle. Fighting was the one thing he still knew how to do well, and he wouldn't let Vorza fall when he had barely exhausted any of his energy. As long as he had even an ounce of strength left in his body, he would battle the Mashraka – even if he had to fight alongside a being as despicable as Ska.

Chapter Twenty

Fragile Trust

It had taken hours of combat, and had cost the lives of several Zatoran, but the battle against the Mashraka was finally over. The horde had been defeated, losing dozens of its number against the villagers and guardians of Mirazis. Vorza, the sacred village of the Acolytes, was safe once more – if only for a little while.

However, as Zahkraz had warned Luha and her fellow heroes days ago, while the battle may had been won by the inhabitants of Vorza, the war was not yet finished. His words could not have rung truer that day, as the threat of the Mashraka had not been completely eliminated. The energy-leeching beasts had retreated before the defenders of Mirazis could totally destroy the horde, and further info wrangled out of Ceratus had revealed that, eventually, the monsters could regain their numbers over time. If that was to happen, Vorza could expect to see many more battles against the Mashraka in its future, which was something that could be devastating to the Zatoran in the long run.

Thus, that was why Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak found themselves flying towards the horde in their elemental forms, determined to end the rampage of the Mashraka once and for all. Though the heroes had begun their lives with much uncertainty and confusion, they had increasingly become more and more passionate about what they were certain was their Acolyte-given role in the world. Yes, the war against the Mashraka, as well as the monstrous beings who had released them, had convinced the guardians that the fate of Mirazis rested primarily upon their shoulders.

"I can see their energy field up ahead," Jorvak said, as he flew slightly ahead of Ebsmod and Luha. "It's weaker than it was yesterday, but it looks like it's getting stronger again!"

"Then it's a good thing we decided to come out here," Luha replied. "Get ready to attack, brothers!"

The Mashraka horde had now come fully into view. As expected, the size of the pack had been severely decreased, and was now only about a third as big as it had been last time the heroes had ventured out to the Rauga plains. However, that sight did not comfort them, for they realized that something else was afoot. Although most of the horde immediately shrieked at the sight of their enemy, the guardians saw that several of the beasts had not taken notice of their arrival. Instead, they were rolling on the ground in intense agony, shaking like pebbles in an earthquake.

Then, something nearly unbelievable happened. With a great echo of pain, one of the quivering monsters began to change color, turning a deep shade of red. It shook and twisted like a tornado, and its claws and tail stood upright. Finally, screaming louder than anything the heroes had ever heard, the beast separated and spilt into two identical Mashraka!

"Did you just see that?" Jorvak exclaimed.

"I wish I hadn't, but yes," Ebsmod replied. "Look, the others are doing it as well! If we don't take them out now, the horde will keep growing until it's as powerful as it was when we first fought them!"

"Then let's make sure they can't," Jorvak said, his elemental voice gaining the intensity of a raging hurricane.

Splitting off and heading in different directions, the heroes started to crash through the horde. They aimed for the hearts of the beasts, and quickly took out several of their number. However, several other monsters had just duplicated themselves, replacing the ones that had been destroyed.

Realizing that their old strategy would not work, the heroes regrouped and began to pick off the beasts that were attempting to separate themselves. However, flying into those particular monsters only caused them to ricochet off their armor. Somehow, the Mashraka became invincible when duplicating!

"This isn't working!" Jorvak said. "They'll just continue copying themselves until we've exhausted all our elemental energies!"

"Keep attacking them," Luha insisted. "We have no other choice!"

The heroes increased their assault, pumping more elemental energies into their forms. They continued to pierce the hearts of the beasts, even as they were running out of strength. However, the monsters kept duplicating themselves, replacing their numbers as fast as the heroes could destroy them.

When all seemed hopeless, however, the Mashraka suddenly stopped splitting, and they all slumped to the ground in pain.

"Is it just me, or did they just fall unconscious?" Jorvak asked, in a voice that was increasingly growing tired.

"Whatever happened, this is our chance to finish this!" Ebsmod shouted. With a great bellow, he summoned the last of his energy and plowed through the weakened horde. Luha and Jorvak followed his lead, even as they struggled to hold onto consciousness themselves. They continued to fly through the beasts, pushing themselves harder than they ever had before.

Finally, when the last of the Mashraka had collapsed into nothingness, the heroes deactivated their mask powers, and collapsed on the ground in their normal forms.

"We… did it," Luha said, sighing in relief.

"And hopefully we won't have to do it again any time soon," Ebsmod remarked. "I'm so tired, I feel like sleeping for a week. How about you, Jorvak?"

Jorvak did not reply. Luha began to worry – had her brother exhausted his body beyond the point of return? Her concern disappeared, however, when Jorvak gently opened his mouth and let out a great snore.

"Well, I guess one of us already had the right idea," Ebsmod said, chuckling quietly.

"Something is wrong," Gakso muttered, as the Yahzuhk and Exiled Ones entered the Cavern of Cleansing Waters. He edged cautiously over to the nearest pool, shaking slightly.

The rest of the former villagers of Krall approached behind him, trying to hide their nervous thoughts. Although they had no intention of acknowledging Gakso's words, they shared his odd feelings about the cave. They didn't know what was wrong, but something about this place truly… disgusted them.

"Is something… bothering you?" Zahkraz said, walking up beside Gakso.

"Gee, what do you think, great leader?" Gakso replied sarcastically, immediately regretting his words. "Sorry," he quickly apologized. "It's just… this place… I don't like it. Which doesn't make any sense!"

"Oh, I quite it, actually," Bizor said, hobbling around the cave and muttering words of insanity. Looking down in one of the pools, he was stunned to see a being that looked exactly like him! "Oh, hello, nice guy," he said to the image in the pool. "You have good taste when it comes to mutations – maybe we can share experiences?" Annoyingly, the reflection kept saying the exact same things that he did. He began to make grotesque faces at the pool, hoping to annoy it as well. The pool did the same. "I knew I wouldn't like you," Bizor said, and he walked away without speaking anything further to his strange duplicate.

Gakso slapped his mask and sighed. "Great… even Bizor hates this place. That can't be a good sign."

"I'm sure you'll adjust to it," Zahkraz assured him. "Once you are cleaned and repaired by the pools, you will be much happier."

Murmurs of disagreement echoed through the cave. With the thousands of years that the Exiled Ones had spent in Krall, they had come to believe that nothing could truly repulse them – except perhaps for the unfathomable force that was Pure Evil. But that was before they had entered this cave - and now, it seemed that their previous thoughts had been proven wrong.

"Well, I for one think that we should test the pools on one of us before we all jump in," a female Exiled One named Zivax suggested. "I volunteer Gakso for the job."

Gakso frowned. Zivax had always gotten on his nerves, far more so than even constant annoyances like Bizor and Hishazo. Of course, it helped that Zivax was a crafty, sneaking liar, who always claimed that anything Gakso found was hers. The fact that she had a knack for convincing the Exiled Ones to side with him aggravated matters as well. It was rare for a female inhabitant of Krall to ever receive any sort of respectful acknowledgement - much less a consistent wave of favorable approval – and thus it had never made sense to Gakso how she had risen so far above him in the "society" of the Exiled One's home.

Of course, as with many of the Exiled Ones, there was more to Zivax than met the eye. With all her constant robbery and deception, few suspected that, deep inside, her actions were not because she was just a natural thief, but because she truly believed that she deserved the best of everything. Gakso had found this out after cornering her about some cactus berries that she had taken from another villager. It seemed that, back when she had been an inhabitant of Vorza, she had been constantly treated poorly by many of the male Zatoran, to the point where she accidentally killed one of them in anger. Thus, she had been sent to Krall with a self-centered mindset and a belief that, after all that had happened to her, she deserved better treatment than others in the rest of her life.

This story was a far cry from the fantastic tale of high-class robbery and glamorous killing that she usually used to explain her exile to others, but it still did not make Gakso one bit sorry for the female rogue. He had given up caring about other beings soon after he himself had been exiled, and now Zivax's sad story was simply another tool he could use to get to the top of society. Or, in this case, a way to persuade her to be the Exiled Ones' disposable test subject.

"I have a better idea, Zivax,' Gakso said, dragging her from the crowd. "How about you go in first instead!"

"Me?" Zivax cried. "No way – I'm not going into that strange water!"

Gakso smiled. "Ah, but my dear Zivax, haven't your ever heard the legends of the Cleansing Waters?"

Zivax's eyes widened. "Wh… what legends?" she asked.

"Oh, you know, the legends of how the first Zatoran to enter the waters each day gets healed twice as well as the others," Gakso replied.

"That's… that's crazy!" Zivax exclaimed. "I'm not falling for that trick – you're just trying to get me to test the pools for you!"

"I suppose you're right about one thing," Gakso replied. "You would be testing the pools, but only to see if the legends are true. Even if they aren't, why does it matter? You'll still be healed to some extent, and that alone is worth what little risk their might possibly be in going in first."

He sighed. "But, if you are so insistent in your refusal, than I suppose I'll take up your offer and go in first instead. After all, if there's anyone here that deserves a double cleansing, it's me." He began to edge towards one of the pools again, and prepared to jump into the waters.

"No you don't!" Zivax screeched, rushing at Gakso. "If what you say is true, than I of all beings should be given the finest healing these pools have to offer, not you!" Pushing Gakso away, Zivax jumped into the pool, making a great splash that sprinkled a few drops of water on Bizor's head.

Seeing that there were no ill effects, the other Exiled Zatoran prepared to follow Zivax in – at least until they heard a great scream coming from the pool.

"AAAAAAAAH! IT BURNS!" Zivax shrieked, as the cleansing waters began to eat away her armor. The other Zatoran rushed to the pool, and looked in horror at what was unfolding. In mere moments, the waters had completely dissolved the former thief's body, leaving nothing except her scream echoing through the cave.

"Cleansing waters?" the ex-Zatoran named Yazohu cried out, uncharacteristically disgusted with the carnage that had taken place. "What a cruel joke - they're poison waters!" Quickly, all the Exiled Ones backed away from the pools, afraid that their lives would be claimed as Zivax's was.

Then, another shout of pain began to ripple through the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, the Exiled Ones saw that Bizor was rolling on the floor in agony, his head shaking like the body of a Torgix Rocksnake. The insane ex-Zatoran shrieked and babbled nonsense, and his eyes glowed with a mixture of fear and madness. Then, with a horrible ripping noise, his single head split, leaving two smaller heads attached to his single neck.

"What is this madness?" one of Bizor's heads exclaimed.

"You kobork!" the second head shouted. "This madness is us! We now share only a body – our personalities have been separated, thanks to you!"

"Thanks to me?!" the first head retorted. "Why, this is your fault, you saklahg! If you hadn't been staring at that pool for so long, we wouldn't have gotten splashed by that horrible liquid!"

"Don't try to shift the blame upon me!" the second head yelled back. "You were always the biggest risk-taker, and now your danger-seeking ways have gotten us both in a deep pile of smaturg!"

Barely able to view the effects of Bizor's second mutation, Gakso spat on the floor of the cavern and turned away. Though he didn't particularly pity the foolish Exiled One, the affects of his favorite punching bag's transformation were so gruesome that he couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for him – as well as for the rest of the ex-Zatoran. "What…what has happened?!" he shouted. "Zivax has been eaten alive, the resident kobork now has two heads – and all of this was done by waters that were supposed to heal us!"

He turned to the Yahzuhk, who did not even seem the least bit disturbed by the incident. "You promised us healing!" he screamed. "What do you have to say for yourselves?!"

"Well, to be honest," Tiroz said slowly, "I have to say that it looks like you won't be getting healed any time soon." He smirked. "Even I can see the irony in this."

"Enough!" Eloh said, shouting in Tiroz's face and brandishing his claw angrily. "Your trite remarks do nothing to improve the situation, and your words will only make our followers trust us less!"

"Really?" Tiroz replied. "Because I'm fairly positive that that nothing any of us say is going to make them feel better." Tiroz replied. "And as for you, four eyes, I…."

"That will do, you two," Zahkraz said, cutting the red Yahzuhk off. "This latest turn of events is interesting, if rather sickening, and it perhaps may give further insight into the Acolyte's horrible mistreatment of the "criminals" of Mirazis. However, our goal here is not to solve minor mysteries. We have a much more important reason for coming to the Cleansing Waters – as you both well know. Now, quiet your tongues, and let me do my job."

Walking to the center of the cave, Zahkraz closed his eyes and extended tendrils of invisible energy through the cave. Slowly, they spanned out across the vast cave, and connected with the energy signatures of each and every object and substance in the cavern. Every wall, every stone, every drop of water – he linked himself to it all, until he could sense the energy of their individual atoms. It was as if the cavern was now a living part of his body – an enormous extension of his natural life systems and processes. He could even sense how the tiny droplets of salty water from the numerous stalactites created the stalagmites directly beneath, one granule at a time.

It was all amazing to be sure, but Zahkraz had not unified himself with the Cleansing Waters simply for wonderment. Focusing on the task at hand, he commanded his energy tendrils to twist and turn through every crack and pore of the cave, scanning it for any unusual forces. He scrutinized the cavern like a curious Gretu mouse examined a rodent trap, trying to determine whether his object of interest was more than met the eye.

But the tendrils found nothing. Suspicious, Zahkraz increased his concentration, extending his reach into the very spaces between the atoms. Again, they detected no irregularities. Whatever he was looking for, it was extremely well hidden. Finally, he increased the power to the point of physical pain within his body, scanning even the mysterious matter that made up the atoms of the cavern. After what seemed like ages, the tendrils detected a slight, miniscule haze of energy lurking within one of the stalagmites. Satisfied, he retracted every last bit of his power, relaxing his concentration as it was drawn back into his body.

"You have found something, leader?" Tiroz asked, as Zahkraz opened his eyes.

"That I have," Zahkraz answered. He sighed painfully. His search for the secret of the Cleansing Waters had drained him extensively – the Acolytes had done a fine job of keeping it safe. However, not even their protection was powerful enough to stop a being who served the Darkness, especially when their Light was no longer present in Mirazis.

Carefully, he crossed over to the particular stalagmite that he had pinpointed in his scan of the cavern's energy signatures. Tiroz and Eloh followed, curious as to what their leader was about to do. Placing his hand on the stalagmite, Zahkraz sent a small amount of power into the stone.

Out of nowhere, ancient runes written in orange light appeared on the wall in front of the Yahzuhk. Their language was ancient, cryptic, and ragged, but the words were clear as day to Zahkraz.

"This is it, my brothers," he said triumphantly. "These are the steps we must take to secure the Key of Destruction. Once it is under our control, our path to victory shall not be deterred by anyone or anything."

"I can not make the language out as well as you can," Tiroz said, "but from what I can tell, these steps are so simple a Zatoran could follow them! A Zatoran with powers like ours, that is."

Zahkraz smiled. "Ah, Tiroz, your generalization amuses me. The steps to obtain this stone are easy, perhaps, but the real challenge is not in the methods, but in the more… precise details. Without the six guardians of Vorza present and united, there is no possible way to capture the Key, and had things gone completely the way the Acolytes had planned, it would be nigh impossible to secure it without engaging in a major conflict."

He bared his teeth. "So, it is a good thing that, thanks to the powers of Darkness, there are three guardians who have yet to come. Their energies are still floating somewhere above this land, and it is essential that they are not allowed to become whole – if you catch my drift."

"But, why, great leader?" Tiroz asked. Had Zahkraz not just stated that only the six guardians would be able to collect the Key of Destruction? If the other three were not allowed to become whole, then….

And then, realization came to Tiroz's mind. Then, victory shall indeed be ours, he thought. How simple a plan, and yet how devious. The pitiful fools of Vorza and their precious guardians shall never expect this. At least, not until it is far too late… for them, and all of Mirazis.

After collapsing from exhaustion in the valley of Rauga, nearly half a day passed before the three heroes returned to Vorza. The north of the village had taken heavy damage from the battle against the Mashraka, and the Zatoran had gone right to work repairing the huts and guard towers. Thankfully, since the attack had come from a north-eastern angle rather than straight on, the beasts had been kept from the weapons hut and Wudas's machine shop. The protection of those two key buildings meant that the defense force could continue to be supplied with weapons, and if the Mashraka had damaged either one of them, the village would be at a serious disadvantage.

Regardless, while those structures had survived, many others had taken damage, and the Zatoran were busy working to repair them as quickly as possible. Laborers were bringing supplies to and fro, and the carpenters and architects had their hands full directing the repairs. Near the north entrance, Unar was discussing the repairs with several of the supply managers. It appeared that while the guardians of Vorza had been busy resting, a group of villagers had been sent to retrieve the carts of Molana marble that had been abandoned during the wild Torgix Rocksnake rampage. Already, some of the recovered stone blocks were being cut to fit holes in some of the damaged buildings, while others were being hoisted up by complex systems of levers and pulleys.

When the Zatoran noticed that Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak had returned, all of them immediately halted their work. They clapped and cheered for the heroes, and many of they rushed up to congratulate them for eradicating the threat of the Mashraka.

"I guess Valmoa got back here before we did," Luha remarked, smiling.

"Speaking of which," Ebsmod said, "isn't that his friend, Lamaru?" He pointed at the figure racing towards the crowd. There was an unusual look of urgency on Lamaru's face, and her eyes expressed concern.

Pushing through the crowd, Lamaru faced the heroes. "Luha, Ebsmod and Jorvak, Olan wishes to speak with you immediately. I'm afraid something very bad has happened."

"We're coming, Lamaru," Luha said. They began heading southwest to the defense headquarters.

"No, great heroes," Lamaru said, blocking their way. "He's not at the HQ. He's this way." She started heading southeast, and beckoned them to follow.

"I wonder what's going on?" Jorvak said.

"Whatever it is, I hope Olan hasn't made another rash decision," Luha replied.

Soon, they had reached the east side of Vorza, where to their surprise, over half the defense force was gathered. Zatoran guards of all shapes, sizes, and colors were packing supplies and choosing weapons, and at the very front of the crowd, Olan was speaking to Valmoa. Noticing that the heroes had arrived, he abruptly broke off the conversation.

"Good, you're here," Olan said. "And just in time – we were about to leave without you."

"Leave without us?" Jorvak exclaimed. "Why? What would drive you to do that?"

"I'll tell you what," Olan retorted, narrowing his eyes. "Valmoa has reported that the Yahzuhk and Exiled Ones have taken the Cave of Cleansing Waters."

"What?!" Ebsmod exclaimed. "You can't be serious – Minala just reported yesterday that they were still on Rauga cliff!"

"Well, it seems that they've taken advantage of our situation yet again," Olan said. "It's obvious to me now that the whole unleashing of the Mashraka was a diversion to buy our enemies time. As soon as the monsters were upon us, the Yahzuhk and Exiled Ones headed due south to the Cleansing Waters. We let out guard down, and now they have taken the single most important location to the survival of the Zatoran!"

Olan angrily picked his gauntlets and signaled for the makeshift army to begin marching to the Cleansing Waters. He then turned back to the guardians of Vorza. "Look, I don't care if you're unhappy with how I'm running this village. I was here longer than any of you inexperienced heroes have been, and I know we don't have a second to lose. Who knows what damage Zahkraz and his brothers could have already caused? We need every hand we can get, and that includes you, guardians, so move on ahead and clear the way for us!"

For the second time in two days, Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak stood rooted to the spot, shocked at Olan's attitude. If there had still been any doubt in their heads that something was severely wrong with the Zatoran commander, it was now gone, and they weren't about to give into the every command of someone they couldn't even respect anymore. However, they also realized that he was right about the importance of taking back the Cleansing Waters. It would be only a matter of time before the Yahzuhk destroyed that essential cavern, and they really did have no time to lose.

"Fine, you'll have your way this time, Olan," Luha said. "But be warned – we're not done with this conversation. I only want to know one thing – where are Vieta and Sario?"

Olan frowned. "Where? I couldn't care less about that insane duo, so I sent them ahead to scout out the area. If they're so sure about their newfound friendship, then let them prove it. And if it's just another one of Ska's tricks, then Vieta will get what she really deserves."

Chapter Twenty One

Final Words

Holding their breaths, Sario and Vieta quietly crept up to the entrance of the Cave of Cleansing Waters. Hiding behind a large rock, they peeked over the edge and looked at the cave opening. There, they saw that two Exiled Ones were stationed at the sides of the entrance, serving as temporary guards. Surprisingly, they looked strained and eager to leave – which, considering that they had just taken such an incredible location from their enemies, was a rather odd reaction.

"I don't understand," Vieta whispered. "These pools have the power to cleanse any being. You'd think they'd be rejoicing instead of acting so strange."

"It doesn't matter what they think," Sario replied. "They're as lost as I was, so their thoughts and emotions are no doubt twisted in some way. What matters is that we stop them before they can gain an advantage over us. Watch and learn."

Quietly, the former Exiled One moved into the guards' line of sight, and casually strolled down to met them.

"Ska!" one of them exclaimed. "We though you were dead!"

"Rumor's had it that you were killed by Miro," the other remarked. "How'd you survive?"

"Survive?" Sario replied, laughing. "I was the one who killed him! Do you really think a mere scholar would defeat me?"

The guards shrugged. Sario smiled and pulled out a dagger, twirling it in his hands. "I killed him with this. It was as easy as making a Woga frog eat out of my hand."

The guards looked at Sario suspiciously. They had reason to be concerned – after all, Woga frogs had been one of the most dangerous threats in Krall. Trying to tame one was considered an act of insanity, and attempting to make him eat from your palm was a sure sign that a Zatoran was completely brain dead.

"Whoops, I suppose that was a bad analogy," Sario corrected himself. "Here's a better one – killing Miro was as easy as knocking you two fools silly."

Before the guards could react, Sario had punched both of them hard in the forehead. His powerful fists knocked them unconscious, leaving the entrance to the cave unguarded. Turning his head, he nodded at Vieta, who quickly scrambled down to join him.

"See, easy," Sario said.

Vieta did not answer. Somehow, something did not feel right. The way Sario had talked so carelessly about killing Miro had obviously been nothing more than a diversion, but at the same time it just felt heartless and cruel.

"Is something the matter?" Sario asked Vieta.

"No… I'm fine," Vieta answered.

Sario frowned. "Don't lie to me again. Your eyes betray your thoughts - I can see that you're not happy about something."

"It's…. it's nothing… nothing at all," Vieta stuttered. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sario. For a little while, I thought I trusted you, but now I seem to be having second thoughts."

Sario smiled. "Oh, that's to be expected," he said. "You've been hurt a lot by my kind, and so it will take a while for me to gain your trust."

"I know," Vieta replied. "And what's really amazing is that, even though we still have a long way to go in our relationship, I actually don't feel as threatened around you as I used to.

Sario's grin grew even wider. "Well, I'm glad to see you've changed," he said happily. "It's too bad I never really did."

In an instant, Sario had swiped his tail forward. The black mass slammed into Vieta, knocking her unconscious as well.

"Oh Vieta, you've grown so foolish," Sario said, as he picked her up and carried her into the Cave of Cleansing Waters. "Years ago, you could see right through my "deceptions," but now you're falling into my traps like they were berries in front of a Gretu Mouse."

He laughed. "I guess times really have changed – just not in the way you imagined it, Muzaka."

"The Cleansing Waters are right up ahead!" Kitao shouted, as he, Olan, and the three guardians led the mass of defense force members across the Rauga Plains.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Olan replied. "Nearly everyone here has already traveled to this place at least a hundred times – do you really think that we won't be familiar with this path by now?"

"Uh… sorry," Kitao answered quietly. Trying to redeem himself, he quickly added, "and for some reason, there's no guards!"

Olan slapped his forehead. "We aren't blind, Kitao, although I'm starting to wish one of us was mute right now…"

"Olan, stop it!" Luha shouted, cutting him off. "He's just trying to be helpful, and you shouldn't get so angry at him for just stating facts!"

"Facts, or errors?" Olan shot back. "I can see now that he was wrong – there are two Exiled Ones sitting down over there, and they've no doubt warned Zahkraz of our approach by now."

"Actually," Jorvak said, "they seem to be knocked out. I can't see Vieta and Ska anywhere either. Do you think they're inside?"

Olan frowned, and shook his head. "I know they're inside, and they're probably captured by now. I knew those two were insane - there's no logical reason why they would try to go on in and stop the Yahzuhk and the Exiled Ones all by themselves!"

The company of Zatoran had now reached the entrance of the cave. Olan motioned for the heroes to head in first. They sighed and followed Olan's orders, and the Zatoran filed in after them.

Inside, Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak had not taken five steps before the voice of Ska called out at them. "Don't make one more move, heroes," he said. "I doubt you'd want to see your favorite Zatoran friend get stabbed through the head."

Crawling out of the shadows, Ska held the unconscious body of Vieta in one hand, gripping his dagger in the other. "It seems that she's finally lucked out," he smirked. "Now, it's time to see how you fare."

Olan, who had just entered the cavern, looked ahead at Ska and growled. "I knew it!" he screamed. "You are nothing but a cowardly liar!"

"Liar?" Ska replied. "Of course. But I'm no coward – I've already risked my life at least three times since I first encountered Vieta. How many times have you risked yours, Muzaka?"

"I tell you this, Exiled scum," Olan shouted, "I will risk the last joint in my body if it means wiping you off the face of the universe!" Bellowing, he rushed forward and prepared to land a crushing blow onto Ska's mask. Before he could attack, however, dozens of Exiled Ones jumped out from their hiding spots, and pointed their weapons at the angry commander of Vorza.

"A most excellent show, Ska," a voice called out from the darkness. The heroes recognized it as the voice of Zahkraz. "Your future in Mirazis is sure to be a prosperous one, with cunning as well-developed as yours." Smiling, the leader of the Yahzuhk stepped out of the shadows. Tiroz and Eloh filed out after him, baring their teeth and weapons.

"As you may or may not know," Zahkraz said, "the Exiled Ones have become quite loyal to us, now that we have rescued them from a horrible prison and have led them in fulfilling their long-sought revenge against the beings who betrayed them. It also helped that we've taken quite an interest in their personal thoughts and beliefs. Ska in particular has been rather fascinating to listen too. He may seem like a brutal, sadistic fool on the outside, but in reality he has quite a lot of calculated strategy and emotion inside his rusty exterior."

"I've listened that tirag plenty myself," Olan shouted, "and the only emotions I've ever seen him use are anger and glee!"

"Oh, but those emotions were plenty enough for him to carry out his mission," Zahkraz replied. He sighed. "It… was only inevitable that one of the Exiled Ones would get captured," he said slowly. "So, I offered Ska the job of spy, and directed him to lead the Zatoran to the Cave of Cleansing Waters after the Mashraka had been defeated. I did not give him specific instructions as to how to accomplish this goal, but I must say I am rather impressed with how well he managed to deceive several key members of Vorza's 'defense.' I'm sure you realize that all too well now, guardians."

Luha, Ebsmod, and Jorvak were stunned. They too had fallen for Ska's awful trick – they had believed that he had turned away from evil and had redeemed himself. But now that they knew it had all been a sham, they felt deeply disappointed with themselves. They had been gullible, and they now knew that kind of behavior only brought dangerous mistakes in times of war.

However, something else stood out to one of the heroes. "You… you knew we would defeat the Mashraka?" Ebsmod asked.

Zahkraz smiled. "Oh, not exactly. I had a feeling you would defeat them somehow, but even if you hadn't, the only effect would have been a quicker victory for us. Regardless, that is quite enough explanation for now."

Gripping his twin spiked lances, Zahkraz stepped forward slightly. "This… is your last chance," Zahkraz said to the guardians and Zatoran. "If you surrender now, you will keep your lives, if not necessarily your life. If you do not… then the forces of Darkness shall reap destruction upon you unlike ever before."

"Yes," Ska said, grinning viciously. "And what a deadly consequence that will be – ARGH!" he exclaimed, as Vieta leaped out of his grasp and delivered a blow to his face.

Right then, the guardians of Mirazis knew it was time to act. "Zatoran, ATTACK!" they shouted, and the company from Vorza rushed forward, yelling with all their might.

In an instant, the entire cave became an enormous battlefield. Zatoran and Exiled Ones exchange blows left and right, while the three heroes summoned their elemental powers and sent them against the Yahzuhk's forces of nature. Beings dodged, somersaulted, twisted and groaned, and explosions of energy rang throughout the cave.

In the midst of this chaotic battle, Olan had turned into a virtual beast. Charging through the Exiled Ones and slamming his fists into their masks, he was increasingly becoming controlled by his anger. He shrugged off blows like they were nothing, even as hydraulic fluid began to leak through gashes in his armor.

"YOU ALL WILL PAY FOR THIS, EXILED SCUM!" he screamed. Seeing that an Exiled One was sneaking up on Vieta, he slammed into the Zatoran and knocked him into a pool of cleansing water.

Vieta turned around to thank Olan, but she stopped midway, gasping at the ex-Zatoran who had been pushed into the waters. He was screaming like a wounded Rahi, and his armor was quickly dissolving. Before Vieta could react, he had totally succumbed to the water, and disappeared beneath the bubbling fluid.

"Olan, what have you done?!" she exclaimed.

"WHAT HAVE I DONE?!" Olan hollered. "I'VE SAVED YOUR LIFE, FOOL!"

"Olan," Vieta pleaded, "Please, calm down!" What was happening to her friend?

"I SAVED YOU! I SAVED ALL OF YOU!" Olan continued to shout. "I'M THE ONLY ONE LEFT IN MIRAZIS WHO HAS THE STRENGTH TO DO WHAT IS NECESSARY!" He plowed through another Exiled One, sending him hurling into the cleansing waters.

"OLAN!" Vieta screamed. "STOP THIS NOW!"

For a split second, sanity returned to Olan's eyes, and his face seemed almost sad. But the calmness did not last, and eyes changed from green to electric-blue. Screaming hollowly, he raced out of the cave, leaving a trail of blue energy in his wake.

Before Vieta could contemplate what had happened to her friend, she was forced to dodge a slash from a dagger. Ska had finally caught up to Vieta, and he was ready to finish the job he had started days ago.

"So, we meet again, Muzaka," Ska said gleefully. "And hopefully, this will be the battle that decides what shall triumph in Mirazis: suffering, or vengeance!"

"Suffering? SUFFERING?" Vieta shouted. "Sario, do you have any idea how much I am suffering?! I truly thought that you had forgiven me – I believed you had finally escaped that horrible prison of rage that you forced yourself into!"

"Well, you thought wrong," Ska replied. "About everything. You had no reason to apologize to me, as I never once thought that your actions 200 years ago were wrong or despicable. I would have done the same thing, had I thrived on careful, controlling order rather than anarchy and chaos! And I am not locked in any prison – I control my rage and use it as a tool, not the other way around!"

Vieta stared into Ska's cold eyes. "No, Sario, you are the one who is wrong," she said harshly. "You believe that you can somehow reign over your emotions and empower yourself with your endless fury. But in all of your actions, you've only shown that you are a slave to your anger – completely and utterly controlled by it! You can no longer think rationally, as you have succumbed to the rage inside of you and have given yourself over to Eenaka!"

Ska screamed and lunged at Vieta with his dagger. "Never… ever… accuse me of being a slave to Pure Evil!" he shouted. "Pure evil is chaos without motive – chaos without any goal or reason! How dare you accuse me of smaturg like…"

Then, he realized that his dagger was scraping against Vieta's sickle like a knife against metal, shaking with the very uncontrollable anger that he had denied possessing. Struggling to pull his weapon away, he looked Vieta in the face and smiled wickedly.

"Well," he said, "If nothing else, then I suppose we can agree on one thing. I am not Sario any more – that weak fool died a long time ago. I… am only Ska."

"I don't believe you were weak when you still called yourself by that name," Vieta replied, "but yes, I do agree. You are dead, Ska."

"We'll see just who lives and who dies tonight," Ska replied, brandishing his dagger. "We'll see."

Near the center of the Cave of Cleansing Waters, the three guardians were trying their best to both defend the Zatoran and to keep themselves from dying at the hands of the Yahzuhk and Exiled Ones. As they had anticipated, this was easily the toughest task they had ever taken on. Besides the fact that the Yahzuhk were seemingly far more powerful than them, the three heroes were unfamiliar with the terrain they were fighting upon. The dozens of stalagmites and pools of water upon the ground made the cave more like a maze than the wide open cavern that they had expected, and they had begun to lose count of how many times they were backed into a difficult position. Somehow, they were surviving, but they didn't know how long they could last.

Out of all the fighters in the cavern, however, none was more hesitant than Jorvak. He had happened to find himself facing Eloh for the second time in a row, which made him rather nervous and far more careful than he had been during their first fight. The icy Yahzuhk had already frozen him once, and he wasn't going to let him do it again.

The problem was that Eloh had the advantage in both sight and strength. His eyes could see in all directions, making surprise attacks nearly impossible, and his armor was so thick that even Jorvak's most powerful sickle slashes could not penetrate it. Thus, it was back to the proverbial basics of the green hero's experience – the variable elemental powers that he had experimented with since day one of his life.

"Same old villain, same old frost," Jorvak said, dodging spikes of frost created by Eloh. "Good thing that I know something about the cold as well."

Summoning a hand made of ice, the green guardian slammed his newly-created palm into Eloh, grabbing him and giving Jorvak the chance to spray Eloh with a wave of ice darts. The icy projectiles didn't penetrate the white Yahzuhk's armor, but several got into the cracks between it, causing him obvious pain.

However, Jorvak's advantage did not last for long, as Eloh was quickly able to absorb the ice into his body. Clanking his claws, he began to lumber towards the hero of Storms.

"You… are really starting to annoy me," Eloh said, unleashing a blast of icy projectiles at Jorvak.

"I could say the same thing about you," Jorvak replied, dodging the attack. "After all, with our similar powers, this battle seems to be at a complete stalemate."

"Your foolish words only betray your immaturity," Eloh replied. "I am the master of Frost – you merely manipulate it. There could not be a greater difference between us."

Maybe, Jorvak thought, but perhaps that the answer to this problem. I have an idea…

As Eloh began to charge his claws with frost, Jorvak began to reach within the cold energy building up in his foe's grip. Slowly, and subtly, he pushed the frost to unleash its power before the white Yahzuhk could release it. In a great white blast, the frost Eloh had summoned exploded over his body, coating it with a thick layer of solid ice.

"Yes, using a more powerful foe's own energy against him works very well," Jorvak said triumphantly.

His words of self-praise were short lived, however, as he quickly noticed that cracks were appearing in the icy prison. In seconds, the ice had shattered, releasing Eloh from its cold grasp.

"You try to use my own power against me?!" Eloh shouted, charging his claws with twice as much frost. "Your petty tricks will only succeed in ushering in your defeat. What can a two week old being do to stop one who has been a master of frost for 10000 years?"

"Oh, I have plenty of options," Jorvak replied. "Like this!" Concentrating deeply, Jorvak summoned the power of his Kanohi, transforming himself into pure storms. Eloh's four eyes widened as Jorvak plunged his form into Eloh's chest. Although he did not penetrate the Yahzuhk's armor, the force of the elemental blow caused his power to overload. Blasts of frost streamed out of his body, flying through the cave and freezing everything they touched.

Even as Eloh was being pummeled by the power of Jorvak's elemental form, he could not help but be disturbed by what was taking place. Ska had not mentioned that the new guardians of Mirazis had already learned of the power of the Kanohi, and Zahkraz had not warned him and Tiroz about this danger. Had his great leader suspected this possibility, or had he simply hid his thoughts from view again? It was most unsettling, to say the least.

At the moment, however, neither Yahzuhk nor guardian of Mirazis could contemplate much of anything, as Eloh's run-amuck power was quickly making the entire cave even more dangerous than it had previous been. Several Zatoran had already been frozen by his wild beams of frost, and one of the blocks of ice had tipped over and shattered, killing the villager inside instantly.

Shutting off his Kanohi, Jorvak ducked behind a stalagmite and assessed the situation. Well, this is good… and bad, he thought, trying not to panic. Eloh's totally lost control of his powers, which means that he won't be able to confront us anymore. But if he don't shut them off soon, who knows what damage he'll cause?

Whatever the answer, Jorvak didn't care to think about the gruesome possibilities. If there was one positive side to this situation, however, it was the realization that he had been able to take a Yahzuhk out of the battle, despite the huge difference in skill between him and Eloh.

Perhaps these beings aren't unstoppable after all, Jorvak thought. If so, we may just make it out of here alive.

Vieta and Ska traded blow for blow, clashing their weapons together fiercely. Ska screamed and lunged like a maniac, slashing at Vieta's armor with bloodlust in his eyes.

"You never understood, did you?!" Ska shouted, as Vieta continued to dodge his blows.

"Understand what? That you were a liar?" Vieta replied, ducking a particularly fierce blow.

"More than that, Muzaka – you never understood why I have nursed my hatred at you for so long!" Ska exclaimed.

"We both know why," Vieta said. "Because you were selfish!"

"Selfish?" Ska answered. "Yes, but not for the reasons you think. You've heard the legends of the Pre-Acolyte Mirazis. Back before the "benevolent" rulers of this land came, a Zatoran relied on his strength alone to survive. There was no unity, no partnership – might made right in those times."

Ska slammed his dagger into a stalagmite, inches away from Vieta's head. "Then, everything changed," he continued. "The Acolytes arrived, and they united the Zatoran into one village. They eliminated all threats and dangers in our lives, and prevented the mightiest of the Zatoran from getting what they rightfully deserved."

Growling, Ska slashed Vieta's chest armor, causing her to groan in pain. "I deserved to rule!" Ska screamed. "I was the strongest, and I should have been on top! And I nearly succeeded in restoring the chaos that was the pre-Acolyte Mirazis. But you… you ruined everything, and now you'll pay for what you've done!"

Vieta narrowed her eyes. "No, Ska. You are not the strongest – you never were. A Zatoran is not defined by strength alone, but by his emotions and his feelings towards his fellow beings. But your emotions are corrupted, your feelings are utterly-self centered, and you thrive on nothing but your hatred! You are an empty shell with no purpose!"

Ska's eyes burned with anger. Screeching with pure rage, he stabbed Vieta in the leg. She gasped in pain, and struggled to hold onto her weapons. Ska raised his dagger up, preparing to strike the final blow.

"Goodbye, Muzaka!" Ska screamed. "May you forever rot in death!"

Smiling, he raised his dagger higher and… wait, he couldn't raise it! Looking down, he saw that a stray blast of frost had frozen him from the shoulder down.

"Well, Vieta, looks like you still have a little luck left," Ska said. "Too bad that it won't be enough to save your life!"

Raising his tail up, he smashed it into the ice that had formed around his body. With each strike, the ice cracked. Soon, he would be free – free to finish off Vieta once and for all!

"No Ska, don't!" Vieta shouted.

"Coward!" Ska shrieked. He continued cracking his tail like a whip.

"No, you don't understand! The ice… it's fused to the ceiling! If you break it, it will fall straight into…"

Before she could finish the sentence, Ska had broken free of the ice. He screamed yet again – but he was cut off when a huge stalactite broke off the ceiling and fell upon him, impaling itself in his skull. His eyes widened, and for a split second, Vieta though she saw a sign of regret on his face. Then, he fell backwards into the largest pool of cleansing waters, and disappeared.

Throwing her weapons aside, Vieta jumped in after her former foe, and began to dive under the waters. She tried in vain to look for a sign that, somehow, he was still down underneath the waters. But, there was nothing – it was too late. Ska was gone.

Climbing back out of the pool, Vieta gazed into the water for a minute, looking back upon her conflict with Ska. Even with all that the renegade Exiled One had done - and perhaps because of his crimes – Vieta somehow felt a twinge of pity in her heart for her former foe. Perhaps it was because, in her mind, she wondered whether Ska's condition was completely his fault. Despite what she had said to him, in reality the former Zatoran had been ill-tempered and sadistic for seemingly his entire life. It begged the question as to whether he had been responsible for what he had done, or whether he had just been born that way.

Shrugging her thoughts off, Vieta picked up her sickles and rushed to rejoin the battle. Whether her former foe was truly guilty or not, it didn't matter now. Ska was finally, truly dead, destroyed by his own uncontrollable rage. And, as Gakso had once predicted, no one had shed a single tear at his gruesome departure. Not even Vieta.

Rolling across the ground, Luha dodged a blast of heat from Tiroz and fired a high pressure beam of water at his chest. It slammed into his armor but did not so much as scratch the metal surface. Grinning, Tiroz responded with a mild wave of heat that, while not life threatening to the guardian of Protodermis, had the affect of sapping her energy and leaving her weak and unable to move. She dropped to the ground, and her double pike fell next to her body.

"It was only inevitable that you would end up dying without even a struggle, Luha," Tiroz said gleefully. "Now, it is time for you to face my ultimate wraith."

Seeing that Tiroz was charging up an extremely powerful blast of heat, Luha quickly considered her options. A wave of her liquid would not be enough to dampen the red Yahzuhk's fire, and even if it did, she would still be left open to an attack from someone else. The only other option was something she had been holding back upon, fearing that the results would be far too violent for her to bear. But, she had no choice, as Tiroz was seconds away from releasing his energy upon her form.

Focusing hard on the nearest pool of cleansing water, Luha caused a great tidal wave of liquid to rise behind the fiery Yahzuhk. Startled by the noise of the liquid, Tiroz turned around to the sight of a huge wave of cleansing water nearing his body. Immediately, he stopped charging his power and dived away as the tidal wave crashed upon the ground where he had been standing seconds before.

Sighing in relief, Luha picked herself up and was about to confront the red Yahzuhk, when suddenly a blast of pure power slammed into her and made her fly into a stalagmite. Trying to keep herself conscious, she saw that Zahkraz was approaching her, holding the weak form of Ebsmod in his clawed hand. Throwing him down next to Luha, he laughed.

"You have fought bravely, heroes," he mocked. "But courage will not be enough to stop the Yahzuhk, nor will your inexperienced usage of your elemental powers. Even with the advantage of the Kanohi, you can only do so much to defend against the mighty forces of nature that we wield."

"However…" he continued, "I fear that your efforts have at least brought us to a stalemate. You have weakened my brother Eloh, and several of the Exiled Ones have perished. This has most certainly not given you the ultimate victory you crave, but it has made it obvious to me that the fighting must cease for now – before both of our sides take heavy casualties."

"We will never accept an offer like that from you!" Jorvak shouted, running from another part of the cavern to defend his fellow guardians. Charging his hands, he prepared to fire dual blast of ice and lightning at the two Yahzuhk.

"No…" Ebsmod croaked. "Don't get yourself hurt again, Jorvak…"

Zahkraz laughed again. "Your friend speaks the truth, guardian of breeze and snow. You would be wise to accept our offer, as Tiroz and I still have the energy to fight for many more hours. Are you willing to battle us for that long as well?"

"If it means that we'll defeat you creeps," Jorvak replied, "Then…"

Standing up weakly, Luha turned to Jorvak and shook her head. "As much as I hate to say it, Zahkraz is right. Our energies are weak, and we would not survive for much longer if we continued this fight."

Facing the two Yahzuhk, she picked up her double pike and frowned. "I propose we call a… truce," she said slowly. "The Zatoran will return to Vorza, while you and the Exiled Ones will go back to Rauga Cliff. And, neither of us will attack each other until another day has passed."

"You have my vow," Zahkraz replied. Turning around, he shouted at the Zatoran and Exiled Ones, who where still locked in combat with each other. "Villagers!" he shouted. "This battle is over! I and Vorza's guardians have called a temporary ceasefire. The fighting shall henceforth not resume for twenty-four hours!"

Stunned, the Zatoran and Exiled Ones looked at Zahkraz in confusion, trying to determine whether his words were just a trick.

"Why should we bow down before your orders?" a guard shouted.

"And why should we stop trying to achieve our revenge for a whole day?!" an Exiled One added.

Zahkraz frowned. "Why do you think, fools? Are you all not exhausted beyond belief, after fighting for so long? What will continuing this battle do for either of your sides?"

It took a while for anyone to answer, but eventually the Zatoran and Exiled Ones nodded their heads in acknowledgement. Without another word, the guards went to join the three guardians of Vorza, while the former villagers of Krall lined up behind Zahkraz and Tiroz. Eloh, who had finally regained control of his power, picked himself up and stood by his brothers, hurling a quick glare at Jorvak.

"Now," Zahkraz said, "we part ways. But do not misread us, heroes – while another battle has ended, this war is still far from over. Be prepared – the worst is yet to come."

And with that, Zahkraz and his brothers turned away and walked out of the cave, the Exiled Ones following their lead. The Zatoran and the guardians of Mirazis were now alone in the Cavern of Cleansing Waters, left to consider the grave words of the leader of the Yahzuhk, as well as everything else that had taken place.

"Well, at least the Cleansing Waters are safe again," Kitao said quietly.

"But at what a terrible cost," Ebsmod added, referring to the Zatoran and Exiled Ones who had died this day.

Luha said nothing. Inside, a myriad of thoughts were swirling around in her mind, but one in particular was rising above all others. Despite all the carnage and violence that had taken place in the cave, only the battle between Vieta and Ska truly stood out – perhaps only because of it's grim resolution. As she was fighting Tiroz, she had witnessed Ska fall into the pool of cleansing waters. She had also seen Vieta's reaction to Ska's death, and somehow, it did not surprise her. True, Ska was evil, and had done many terrible things in his life - and through all of that, he had never once been repentant. But despite all of those crimes, did someone like him really deserve to die in such a horrible way? Did anyone, for that matter?

Regardless, these thoughts dampened any joy that Luha possibly could have. Whatever happened in the future, the Cavern of Cleansing Waters would forever serve as a reminder that, no matter who won a battle, victory always was bittersweet. And although Vieta had triumphed over her foe, Luha doubted whether her conflict against Ska would ever truly feel resolved.

Chapter Twenty Two

The Ultimatum

As the Zatoran and guardians of Vorza journeyed back from the Cleansing Waters, the gently rising sun prepared the way back to their home with a vast field of golden light. A gentle morning breeze blew across the faces of the returning warriors, and the trees bowed under the soft wind. It was as if somehow, Mirazis itself knew who exactly who its protectors were, and was eager to honor them with all of its finest natural glory.

Equally welcoming were the remaining villagers of Vorza, who once again dropped their jobs and eagerly welcomed the convoy. Though they had initially expected the worst upon hearing of the Yahzuhk's latest deed of evil, they were ecstatic at the news that their sacred place of healing was safe. However, the revelation that the battle had been won by a truce and that three more Zatoran guards had been lost quickly dampened their initial joy, to the point where the entire village became melancholy.

Of course, the Zatoran society had to go on, and the village slowly became bustling again. The builders continued work on repairing the northern side of the town, and the Defense Force made preparations for the next day, when they knew that the Exiled Ones and Yahzuhk would resume their attack. Most were grimly prepared for their enemy's inevitable return, and with all the work they were doing to repair Vorza, their village would hopefully be as well.

At the moment, however, none of this mattered to Vieta. Upon returning home, she had immediately rushed to the center of the town, hurrying into the Ancient tower. Inside the mystic structure, the village had erected a monument to those lost in the battle for Mirazis's future. A pillar stood in the center of the room, and stones with the names of the Zatoran who had died were piled around the edges. And on the top of the pillar, the mask of Miro rested neatly upon the flat marble, serving as a reminder of the cost of fighting against evil.

Sniffing, Vieta rested her hand on the mask. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "You never had to do this – and yet you scarified your life to try to stop the one who harmed me."

Bowing her head, she placed Miro's favorite book under the statue. It was the very same book that Miro had used to combat Ska, and Vieta had kept it in her hut ever since the first attack on Vorza.

"You were brave, and yet all your efforts seemed to be in vain," Vieta continued. "But now, you need not worry any more. The battle is over, Miro, and you have been avenged."

Sighing, she turned away and left the tower. Ever since her friend's death, she had found it increasingly hard to face the reality that he was no longer with her. But now, as she walked away, she finally began to accept his passing. For, in the end, Miro's death had not been in vain. No, it was because of his sacrifice that Vieta had lived on, and it was because of his bravery that Ska did not harm anyone else. Most of all, it was because of his friendship, that Vieta had found the strength to trudge on ahead, even as the land of Mirazis was falling apart around her.

In his conflict with Vieta, Ska had said that he wanted to destroy the unity of their home. But, in the end, he had only succeeded in one thing – he had brought the Zatoran of Vorza closer together. It seemed that now, nothing would be able to break the close bond of the inhabitants of Mirazis.

"Nothing at all," Vieta said.

Gakso sighed disappointedly as the Exiled Ones settled back down upon the rocky plateau of Rauga cliff. The battle in the Cavern of Cleansing Waters had, needless to say, been cut off short without a proper resolution. Yes, the Exiled Ones had willingly lowered their weapons and left the cave by their own free will, but none of them were happy about it. It had been a decision that had been made more by their physical weakness than their mental and emotional drive, as the strength that their rage fed their bodies had finally reached its limit. Not even the great power of anger had been able to override their building exhaustion, leaving their business with the Zatoran of Vorza unfinished.

Reclining on a rock, Gakso looked around and laughed weakly at the sorry state of his fellow Exiled Ones. Many of them had collapsed the moment they had reached the top of the cliff, and others were cradling injured limbs and rubbing dents in their armor. Of course, that didn't even take into account the reality that four of the Exiled Ones had been killed by the horror that was the Cleansing Waters. What was an amazing place of healing for the Zatoran was an awful cavern of death for the former villagers of Krall, and Gakso sincerely hoped they never had to visit the place again.

"So, it seems that your strength has vanished as well," a voice said behind Gakso. Turning around, the red Exiled One saw that Hishazo was sitting on top of the rock that he was resting on.

"Ah, buzz off, shugaspawn," Gakso said, turning away from Golga's former lover. "Did you really expect me to be full of energy after all that happened?"

"It's surprising to say the least," Hishazo responded, "considering how knowledgeable you claim to be in the art of combat. Care to explain why a warrior as great as you has fallen to the simple force of exhaustion?"

"What do you think, kobork?" Gakso replied rudely. "I fought long and hard against the Zatoran, unlike some beings here."

"Perhaps," Hishazo remarked. "But what has your vengeful assault against the Zatoran accomplished? Besides tiring yourself out, of course."

Turning around and facing Hishazo angrily, Gakso looked into the Exiled One's eyes with pure resentment. "Listen here you slime-faced carask," he snarled. "I have just about had enough of you and your hypocritical attitude. You parade around and speak in big words like you think you're more esteemed than the rest of us, and yet when the time comes to give the Zatoran what they deserve, you stand around and practically refuse to fight! You are as useless as you are proud, so don't try to accuse me of accomplishing nothing!"

Hishazo frowned. "Just wondering why you think your actions will have any affect," he replied. "After all, with the Yahzuhk in command, why do you still feel that your power means anything in this conflict? In fact, why do you feel it ever has? The Yahzuhk are the beings with true strength – and we are merely their willing servants."

Turning away, Hishazo gave Gakso one final piece of advice. "If you want true power, Gakso," he said, "then stop believing that you already possess it. Otherwise, your foolish beliefs will ensure that you are the lowest being in society." And with that, he walked off, muttering something to himself.

Gakso narrowed his eyes. How more arrogant could Hishazo get? For a weak being like him to claim that Gakso did not have power was like a Gretu mouse claiming that a Morog bear lacked strong teeth and claws! It was pure insanity!

But, Hishazo had made one reasonable point. Now that the Yahzuhk were leading the Exiled Ones to victory, there was no need for Gakso and his fellow ex-Zatoran to waste all their effort on never-ending battles. Zahkraz and his brothers had the power to wipe out the village of Vorza and all its inhabitants, and the Exiled Ones were only extra fuel on the already raging flames of their might. So, why did he and the other former villagers of Krall continue to put their lives at risk, even knowing that their efforts were unnecessary?

Because we can, Gakso thought. Because we now have the chance to personally make the Zatoran pay for their crimes against us. The Yahzuhk could very well accomplish this all by themselves, but it's far more pleasing for us to carry out our revenge ourselves. And until the last Zatoran has fallen against our might, nothing will stop us from fighting those Muzakas with our every last bit of strength. Nothing at all.

"There's still no sign of Olan," Unar told the heroes. "Valmoa has been searching for the entire morning, and he hasn't been able to find any sign of him." He sighed. "I know going to regret ever reinstating him as commander of the Defense force for a while to come." He walked away, lowering his head.

"I hope he is okay," Ebsmod said. "Both of them, I mean."

"Unar will be fine, I'm sure of that," Luha answered. "I just hope Olan hasn't gone past the point of no return. It's obvious that he's been driven to insanity."

"Kind of like the rest of this land, huh?" Jorvak sighed.

Shaking her head, Luha put a hand around the green guardian's shoulder. "I know, it sure feels that way," she said. "But we must prevail. The Zatoran need to be able to live on, even as the world crumbles around us."

"What if our strength isn't enough?" Jorvak said. "We're just three beings – why would the Acolytes entrust the entire future of Mirazis on us?"

Luha sighed. "I don't know, Jorvak. There are still so many unanswered questions. But, I think that's why we are here. We were sent to solve the mysteries of this world, in order that the evil of Mirazis would not triumph."

Jorvak nodded. "I guess you're right. But, one thing bothers me more than any other mystery. What are we, anyway?"

Ebsmod and Luha looked at each other puzzlingly. Despite all the pondering that they had done over the two weeks of their life, neither of them had ever stopped to consider what exactly they were. Were they lesser Acolytes, servants of the former rulers of Mirazis, or just empowered Zatoran? They did not know, and they now were starting to doubt whether they would ever find the answer.

Then, a thought came to Luha's mind. "What is the word for protector in Zatoran?" Luha asked.

"I think it's tuhketa," Ebsmod said. "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know… it's the strangest thing. This word… it's stuck in my head, and I think…" Then, she came to realization. "Toa," she said.

"What?" Jorvak asked. "What's a Toa?"

"I think… we are," Luha said. "Something inside me is saying that Toa is the word for hero in the language of the Acolytes."

"So, you're saying that as heroes, we would have been called that by the Acolytes?" Ebsmod said.

"Yes… yes, that's right," Luha answered. "I'm sure of it now."

"Well then, I guess we have a new name now," Jorvak said, smiling.

Luha smiled back. "Indeed." She stepped forward. "That is what we are, and what we shall go by. From now on, we have a name, uniting us together. From now on, we… are Toa!"

"We are Toa!" Ebsmod and Jorvak shouted out with their sister.

Indeed, they were Toa… protectors and heroes of Mirazis. Their mission was far from over, but they now felt stronger than they ever had before. Whatever dangers and foes they would face, nothing would deter them from keeping the Zatoran's homeland safe from evil. Nothing at all.

Epilogue

Scion Of Rage

All was silent at the Cave of Cleansing Waters. The sights and sounds of battle had long since passed, and the Zatoran's sacred place of healing was back to normal.

Or at least, the villagers of Vorza wished that was so. The cleansing waters had always been a place of life and rebirth for their race, and it was only natural that they wanted it to keep that reputation. But, now that they had seen beings perish at the hands of the very waters that normally healed, it was safe to say that the sacred cavern's reputation had been tarnished.

Still, this did not mean that they had any sympathy for the Exiled Ones who had been dissolved in the cleansing waters. Most thought that the ex-villagers of Vorza had gotten exactly what they deserved, and a few even were quite impressed by the Acolyte's ironic way of punishing the traitors to Mirazis. But it was still unsettling to know that death was actually possible in their wonderful cavern of healing, and they all knew that they would be a bit more hesitant to enter the warm, clear waters from now on. If there was one good thing that had come out of this discovery, however, it was the realization – and relief – that those few Exiled Ones would never again tarnish the land of Mirazis with their hatred and cruelty.

Or so they thought.

Down beneath the reflective surface of the largest pool, the water was as crystal clear as it could be. All the pools were like this, so it wasn't a unique phenomenon by any means – but if one were to have dived underneath the surface, it would have seemed that this pool was even clearer than normal. It was almost as if it was charged with some mystical energy – but of what kind?

Though nobody knew it, the answer was more deadly than any inhabitant of Mirazis could imagine. Within the depths of the pool, the cleansing water began to churn and froth. Quickly, the entire mass of liquid became a bubbling cauldron, rising thousands of degrees in temperature within mere seconds. Then, out of nowhere, molecules of energy appeared, and swirled around the pool. They latched onto each other, and started to form a smooth, indistinct shape – much like the soft, featureless blobs of sand, dirt, and tar that had turned into the three Toa of Mirazis.

But the shape did not stay elegant for long. Almost immediately, it became twisted and hulking, gaining a massive amount of girth and muscle. Sharp points formed on nearly every surface, and an evil looking face appeared – a face which was distinguished most by its maw of incredibly ugly teeth… and two blood red eyes. With a great splash, the monstrous figure jumped out of the pool, and the waters calmed.

The newly created blinked his slanted eyes for a second, and then noticed his form reflecting off the now still surface of the pool he had been born in. It shocked him – no, it horrified him. His body was a bulky, twisted nightmare, lined with jagged armor and completely covered with spikes of all lengths. His feet were bizarre, claw-like masses, and his face… his face was nothing short of hideous. He was hideous – every single part of him. The figure couldn't believe it – couldn't believe any of what had happened to him. For he was not just a mere monster with no origin. No, he was Ska reborn.

It was at that moment that Ska felt something boiling up in him. He had experienced it before – many times before - but never to this level. It was rage…. pure rage.

"What….. WHAT IS THIS?!" Ska screamed. "WHO AM I?! WHAT AM I?!" As hard as he tried, he could no longer distinctly remember his past – not even what had happened before he had been transformed into this horrible creature. Only his name remained clear, and without an identity, it meant nothing. Everything was gone – his life, his body – his very existence. All that was left was unrestrained and unrelenting anger.

For a moment, something other than hatred filled his mind. He tried in vain to recapture the vague thought. Then, he remembered something else… something that stood clear and essential among all the other things he had learned in his former life. A symbol, shaped like a stylized double E. But it was not just any symbol – no, it was a symbol that represented pure evil, pure hatred – and pure rage?

"NO!" Ska shouted. "I can't be that… can I?" He could not remember barely anything from his life as… as another being, but he recalled how incredibly repulsed he had been by this symbol. For, this symbol represented more than just mere evil, or Kru – it represented evil without purpose, without motive, and without meaning. It was evil for the sake of evil – nothing more, nothing less. He just couldn't be that! But yet, inside, he realized he was telling himself a lie, and by denying it, he was only momentarily delaying the inevitable.

"No," Ska said. "I can not resist it any longer. I am not a person any longer, but a thing. I am evil incarnate – hate taking on a physical form!"

Standing towards the entrance to the cave, Ska shouted words that would complete the total destruction of his very essence. "Hear me – hear me all who live beyond this pitiful cave! You all shall suffer greatly against the power of my hatred! My former identity is gone, and with it goes any remaining weakness that I once possessed! From now on, I am not Ska… I AM EESKA!"

With his condemnation of all life in Mirazis finished, Eeska lumbered out of the cave, prepared to unleash his power on every being that he would meet from then on. Ska truly was no more, but his anger lived on in the form of a rage-driven monster. Though no on in the land knew what had transpired in the Cavern of Cleansing waters, they would all soon feel the sting of its results. And, in the midst, Eeska's furry would burn on, burning without a purpose, motive, or meaning.

No, nothing else mattered to the former Zatoran anymore. Nothing, besides Rage.

End

Apendix A: List of Characters

Acolytes

Teradus – The calm-tempered but strong willed leader of the Acolytes

Lukamo – A master Acolyte warrior with a fierce temper

Yiitrudu – The boastful chief scribe of the Acolytes

Korzik – A stocky warrior who wields the elements with mastery

Poitara – An Acolyte architect who possesses great skill in carpentry

Zatoran

Vieta – The leader of Vorza's defense force; a feisty warrior with a caring heart

Miro – Vorza's resident scholar; a brilliant but procrastinating thinker

Olan – One of Vorza's strongest miners; gentle and kind to all but his enemies

Wudas - Vorza's chief mechanic; as reliable a worker as he is a friend

Nortis – The healer of Vorza; harsh on the outside but softer on the inside

Mokar – Vorza's chief cook; excessively jubilant and devoted to his work

Unar – Vieta's second in command; cynical and intolerant of failure

Lamaru – A master battalion leader; extremely calm in almost any situation
Valmoa – Vorza's best scout; emotionless to all but his closest friends

Ceratus – An insane ex-scholar; spends his days locked up in a dirty hut

Kitao – A member of Vieta's battalion; eager and ready to learn

Turiz – The sarcastic chief carpenter of Vorza

Muzar – A simple forager with a love of music

Inota – A miner with a massive appetite

Paluva – A dedicated guard and friend to newcomers

Torma – A female miner and co-worker of Olan

Mishalu – A newcomer to Vorza who has yet to be assigned a job

Minala – A female scout who is second only to Valmoa in her profession

Exiled Ones

Ska – An anarchist and master of deception; longs to get revenge upon Vorza

Gakso – An ex-mechanic and resident bully; almost always has a smile on his face

Bizor – An ex-carpenter; pitifully weak and laden with a split personality

Golga – An ex-cooking assistant; brokenhearted and disliked by almost everyone in Krall

Hishazo – An ex-guard with an extensive vocabulary; his motives are mostly a secret

Yazohu – A carnage-loving exile who enjoys watching arena matches

Nurig – An outspoken exile who often finds himself in deep trouble for his words

Zivax – A shrewd thief with a tragic past; a master at acquitting herself of crimes

Toa

Luha – Both the gentlest and the most skilled of the Toa; disapproves of excessive anger

Ebsmod – The most powerful of the Toa; slow to speak but surprisingly wise

Jorvak – The most agile of the Toa; often sarcastic and struggles with reading emotion

Yahzuhk

Zahkraz – The leader of the Yahzuhk; a brilliant tactician with many secrets

Tiroz – A brutal warrior who is rather showy and boastful

Eloh – A master in combat and trickery; quiet and reserved most of the time

Apendix B: Pronunciation Guide

Note: words are listed in order of their first appearance.

Prologue

Mirazis - Mere-raah-zis

Zatoran – Zah-tore-ran

Rahi – Rah-hee

Teradus – Tur-raah-duss

Yiitridu – Yih-trih-due

Lukamo – Lue-kaah-moe

Korzik – Core-zick

Xun – Zuhn

Poitara – Poi-tar-ruh

Chapter One

Huyaza – Hoo-yah-zuh

Tiora – Tee-ore-ruh

Morog – More-rog

Ulanu – Ooh-laah-nue

Mokar – Moe-car

Muzar – Moo-zar

Unar – Ooh-nahr

Olan – Oh-lan

Miro – Mere-roh

Vieta – Veeh-eh-tuh

Wudas – Woo-duhs

Protanium- Prohe-taah-knee-uhm

Ghoulbiters – Goal-bite-ehrs
Vorza – Vore-zuh

Turiz – Ture-rizz

Chapter Two

Rauga – Rah-ooh-guh

Orojahuga – Ore-roe-juh-hoo-guh

Urjad – Ure-jaad

Pikoru – Pih-core-rue

Luha – Lue-hah

Jorvak – Jore-vack

Chapter Three

Nortis – Nore-tiss

Ebsmod – Ebse-mud

Protodermis – Proe-toe-der-miss

Molana – Mole-laah-nuh

Shudalok – Shoe-duh-lock

Zahkraz – Zaah-craz

Tiroz – Tie-rohz

Eloh – Eeh-loe

Yahzuhk – Yaw-zuuhk

Chapter Four

Krall – Crawl

Ska – Skah

Chapter Five

Gakso – Gawk-sow

Bizor – Bih-zore

Hishazo – Hih-shaw-zoe

Lamaru – Lah-mahr-rue

Nurig – Nuur-riig

Nagaroh – Nah-gah-roe

Kobork – Koe-borke

Yazohu – Yah-zoe-hoo

Golga – Goal-guh

Smaturg – Smah-turge

Makaluk – Mah-kah-luck

Woga – Woe-guh

Chapter Six

Nizgan – Nis-gaan

Kijando – Kiih-jahn-doe

Torgix – Tore-gicks

Paluva – Puh-loo-vuh

Valmoa – Vaal-moe-uh

Slisgan – Sliz-gaan

Bagoka – Buh-goe-kuh

Chapter Seven

Fizimune – Fiz-ih-moon

Chapter Nine

Gretu – Gree-tue

Nehatu – Knee-hah-tue

Kitao – Kiih-tah-oh

Mishalu – Miih-shaw-lue

Shugaspawn – Shue-guh-spawn

Rigorian – Riih-gore-ree-aan

Chapter Ten

Muzar – Moo-zarr

Sario – Sah-ree-oh

Muzaka – Moo-zah-kuh

Tironium – Tie-roh-knee-uhm

Milanaz – Mill-laah-naaz

Zamuzilion – Zah-moo-zill-leeh-unn

Krisoka – Krih-sow-kuh

Hiroto – Hih-Roe-Toe

Kobork – Koh-borhk

Myzasor – Me-zah-sore
Kramata – Krah-mah-tah

Chapter Eleven

Gatoro – Gah-tore-roh

Kinaha – Kih-nay-ha

Torvos – Tore-vose

Eekama – Eh-kah-mah

Chapter Twelve

Torma – Tore-muh

Tirag – Tie-rahg

Mashraka – Maah-shraah-kuh

Chapter Thirteen

Gragunka – Grah-guhn-kah

Tio – Tee-oh

Ceratus – Cer-rah-tuss

Chapter Fifteen

Zio – Zee-oh

Mezu – Mee-zue

Pintu – Peen-tue

Chapter Sixteen

Nisoka – Nee-soe-kuh

Chapter Eighteen

Akso – Akh-soe

Kanohi – Kuh-naw-hee

Chapter Nineteen

Omas – Oh-mahs
Tezu – Tee-zue
Timas – Tee-mas

Kura – Kure-ruh

Mavo – Mah-voe
Puta – Pue-tuh

Bivis – Bih-viss

Ovan – Oh-vann

Nuro – Nure-roh

Zamu – Zah-mue

Chapter Twenty

Zivax – Zih-vacks

Saklahg – Sahk-lag

Minala – Mee-nalh-lah

Chapter Twenty One

Eenaka – Eh-nah-kah

Chapter Twenty Two

Shugaspawn – Shue-gah-spawn

Carask – Car-rask

Tuhketa – Tuh-kee-tuh

Toa – Toe-ah

Epilogue

Eeska – Eh-skah

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