Finally updated!


Chapter 2: Year of the Dog

ralinn: nine songs

At the edge of Orbis, there was a Ranger. Her gaze was cast down through the clouds, at the snowy ground that was just as white as the city around her. The clouds shone in her eyes like tears.

Just beyond her feet, a ledge fell half a mile to the ground, unfolding into a snowy world she sometimes wondered about. Would she ever visit El Nath? The crystal land below was wondrous and deadly—and occasionally, she longed in her dreams to see more.

But for the sake of a duty she had to perform, she was currently in Orbis. Again, she took a moment to appreciate her surroundings—century-old buildings of white stone and sky vines towered around her, great gates and monuments suspended in the air by magical, humming crystals of Lithium. Rimming the city, great billows of clouds bloomed through a cerulean ocean, like high pillars and arches ornamenting the aerial outskirts.

With a last sigh at the scenic view around her, Ralinn raced down the stairs, off the city balcony and into the marketplace. She glanced about at road junctions for signposts, turning her gaze from the passers-by as she hurried down the pale stone streets.

She was here to form a guild, for the oddest reason in existence. A voice from her dreams had told her to do so, and she dared not to disobey.

"When you find your members, you will know," the voice had told her clearly. "I will lead you to them, as best I can. And do not stop until they are found. Your search may last years on endbut don't give up."

With an abrupt stop, Ralinn broke out of those thoughts. She had already arrived at the Guild Headquarters. The building, tapering at the top and gently curved, was enfolded within glowing wings the colour of dewy grass, their brightness pulsing warmly as they rose and fell over the HQ.

Nervous and worried, the Ranger knocked on the door. Her calls were soon answered by a tall, tanned man, white hair spread over his scalp, a scar on his left eye.

"Yes, I am Hercule of the Guild Headquarters," he replied, unsmiling. "Are you here to form a guild?"

Ralinn nodded, stiff with nerves. Without a moment, Hercule invited the girl into the main hall of the Guild Headquarters, and without another word she followed him inside. The grandeur and symmetry of the building's interior instantly engulfed her—the divine lighting that illuminated every corner of the main hall, the rich red carpet on the ground, the two staircases curved around a polished, sunlit parquet floor.

"Stop staring, and come up here," the middle-aged man was already at the top of the staircs, a huge tome in his hands, its pages well-fingered and yellowing.

As Ralinn ascended the closer left staircase, Hercule opened the book along a fraying ribbon bookmark. He handed her a quill pen the instant she arrived before him.

"One million five hundred thousand mesos," he said, raising his gaze to eye her. Then, something like disapproval entered his gaze. "And six members...where are they? You know the rules, don't you?"

Ralinn had been fearing this. One of the rules for forming a guild was that she would have to come with five others. But if that voice really wants me to form a guild now, it would have eliminated these problems...

She had been relying on the assumption that this strange voice in her head had planned everything out for her. But it turned out that it had done nothing at all! Was that "message" even real? She suddenly wondered. Had it just been a wild waking dream?

"Um, I...I..." she faltered, unable to save herself. "I heard a voice in my dreams telling me to...uh..."

Hercule sighed and sat down. "We don't listen to 'voices'," he replied heavily. "Apologies, I was hoping to make a new guild today..."

Ralinn was about to turn and leave. But that was when she suddenly noticed that the sunlight streaming from the window above was...brightening. She blinked and gasped.

And a moment later, the soft rays of light swelled into a torrent upon Hercule's terrified figure, the pure tone of continuously-ringing bells flooding her ears. The room seemed to be blown apart as it gushed from the window, and nearby, Ralinn could hear Hercule's terrified gasping though she could not see him.

Then just as suddenly, the light dimmed to its original brightness. Hercule was leaning against his table, arms shaking.

"...Ralinn," he suddenly said, straightening. "Today, I am forced to make an exception. You have been chosen by powers greater than humankind, and even the law cannot dispute such a thing. Please write your name here." He held out the book to the relieved Hunter, opening it to a page where the long list of people's names ended. The quill shivered in her hand as she wrote her name at the end.

And in those seconds, her name joined those of the great guild masters who had come before—Sunburst, ...—and the yet-unwritten names of guild masters to come.

Ralinn looked up at the ceiling as she came to the space for "Guild name (no spaces)" and thought, the brilliance of the blue sky in the window above suddenly gracing her with unexplainable calm. She thought of the only clues that the voice given her, and wondered at their meaning.

"In the end, three stars will banish the darkness..."

She pondered about all the constellations, silently, and one surfaced in her mind —the Belt of Orion. The three stars, always in line, as they traversed their eternal pilgrimage.

"OrionsBelt", she wrote on the list. That was its registered name, but its true name would be Orion's Belt.

Hercule nodded a few times as he took the book back into his palms. "Thank you," he replied. As she reached into her bag for the heavy fee, he stopped her. "There is no need for you to pay, miss. It seems that you have been chosen for a special cause, so...it's only my job to allow you to form your guild without payment."

Ralinn sighed, both with relief and disappointment. She had worked so hard to earn that money...

Hercule, not waiting another moment, dragged his drawer open, extracting a bunch of jangling jewelled chains and holding it out to her. "When you invite someone to your guild, give him or her one of these to wear," he instructed. "They are marks of membership. You can buy more from me later, if need be."

Ralinn took the chains into her hand, their thin metal rings cold in her palm. Singling one out, she allowed the rest to fall into one of her pockets, before putting it on. With a short bow to Hercule and a word of thanks, the girl had left.

She was a Guild Master now—a leader. It was amazing. Just the thought that she could now invite people to join her journeys, and expel them whenever she pleased—somehow, it simply made her feel powerful, and in control of her life.

it was something she had never had before. She had never had any control of what befell her. She had been taken from her parents and brother to become a child labourer, and suffered for three years, carrying sacks of goods into the castle grounds. She had finally run away one day, when the pain had grown too great, and the guards had not been able to catch up with her.

She had been free for five years already, secretly getting a job as a Bowman and training into a Hunter during that time. As the daughter of Athena Pierce's best friend, she had received a considerably greater amount of training from the Job Master. The elf woman had offered to inform her mother of her whereabouts—but she had refused that, wanting to carry on with this beautiful freedom for a few years more.

But that wasn't the sole reason. Though she didn't want to admit it, though she was strong and already fourteen years old, she was mortally afraid—afraid that her family had vanished during her time away.

In the nocturnal calm, in her hotel room, Ralinn lay awake in the dark among the covers. Her mind was full of the day's events, and she had begun to wonder if she could handle this challenge. How long would it take? How would she find them? Where, in the Goddess' name?

Hoping that she would get some answers soon, the huntress closed her eyes, waiting for the tides of sleep to claim her.


Again, she dreamt of the voice, after two barren months of waiting.

There were nine lights and the nine songs around her, again. Beyond the lights, she could sense the vagueness of drifting clouds, but she paid it no attention. Drawn by the first voice, she found herself walking towards it.

She heard it as she approached, soaking in the tones of its song. Somehow, she felt as if she had heard this voice before, so long ago, so long ago...

"Where are you? I've cried tears countless

More than all the hours flown

Though by joy I am defended

I still wait, asleep, alone."

Taking in a deep breath, Ralinn stepped closer and listened again, again. The light sang the words once more, its mellow voice seeming to tug at something in her mind.

Waiting? For me?

Looking away from the brightness, for it was suddenly too much for her to bear, she sobbed. Was this voice telling her to return to the home she hadn't seen for eight years? Was that where she would find the first member of Orion's Bolt?

She wanted to ask, but somehow, she knew that this creature of light, if creature it was, would not know the answer.

And she could not, for as soon as Ralinn turned back, she had been whisked away into another meaningless dream.


akera: burns of guilt

"You have a sweet voice, Akera. Why don't you sing for us?" they had asked on the night before their deaths. She had refused.

Akera closed her eyes to the sun, and folded the lotuses in the darkness beneath her eyelids. Slept in skylight. She was reliving—so vividly—the last moments she had seen Shirion, before he had disappeared into the crystal darkness of the forest and vanished, clearer than the blue sky before her.

She had wanted to follow him on his journey. She had longed company. But no matter how she desired it, she knew that she couldn't ask him to join her, nor to come any closer.

For she was Akera, the witch. Akera, the murderer. The one who should never be forgiven.

In the honey-coloured sunlight, the Fire Poison Wizard found her gaze wandering over Henesys' northeastern border, where the king's castle towered proud upon the hilltop, emerging grey from the lush forest. It didn't have the image of an evil man's home, like the castles of the antagonists in storybooks. It was spring, and the sun cast warm light upon its grey walls. It looked grand and mysterious—not evil, and not threatening.

Yet Akera knew that the one who owned it was nowhere near this warmth in nature. This was the king who had forced his people into oppression. This was the cruel man who had tortured his people without justification. To her, he was a dark, brooding entity on the edge of her mind—not oppressively present, but always, annoyingly, there.

So often, since childhood, she had wished that the light would return to once-beautiful Victoria with tears in the back of his imagination. She wished that it could be the home she had always wanted it to be. She had wished—so hard and so long—that now, her entire life had become an era of hate and darkness.

But she knew and accepted that it wasn't the world that had darkened. It was her own heart. It was the invisible cage she had locked herself into, seven years ago. A cage of ashes, a cage of dead flame. She couldn't allow anyone else inside.

The keys were rusting in a grave. She had to die in pain, in isolation. Lonely.

It was a day when the skies had been cloudy and the roars of the workers had thundered outside, that she sealed herself to this fate, leaped into the currents she would never flee.

She had been playing meaningless games, all her life. Spending her fortune on worthless trinkets.

It had been a day whose tension she had felt all the while. The weight of the bad news had weighed deep in her parents' eyes—so obvious, so dark.

"Akera, we're moving into hiding," her father had said one afternoon, as she had watched the bloodied docks of Lith Harbor. "It's not safe to stay here anymore. The king's new rule is that families of less than five are not allowed to own houses."

Not safe? I thought that was obvious.

"Come on, Akera, don't be afraid, we'll be fine once we find a place to stay, hidden," her mother said softly. "It will end—"

And all of a sudden, Akera had begun to detest that voice. It was so patronising. It grated on her ears.

Then there was the roar of a monster—a roar that she suddenly realised was her own. She became and embodied that creature, felt the words leave her lips in a scream—

"We'll never be fine! You keep saying that just to keep me happy! You know that it will never end. What, then, after we find a new home? We'll have to keep running and running until he catches us, or we die! Stop lying to me!"

The monster, locked up deep within her heart by old chains—torn from her hold, freed by all the pain that she had hidden and nurtured so long. She still remembered them. The demons of fire that had finally escaped her body, unfolding outwards in a whirlwind of thunder and raging phoenix fire. Swallowing all the things in her life that had taught her to hate. Swallowing the screams, the sobs, the fairy lights outside.

Flames circled into the sky, and were lost to the grey clouds. Suddenly, there she stood—alone, alone among the burnt ruins of her home. Her parents, a pair of broken skeletons in two mounds of ash.

She had been nothing but a seven-year-old child. She had understood murder and crime at that time, such a genius she had been—but she hadn't understood the feeling that had come flooding in through the cracks, with this notion.

No, no…

Akera in Henesys suddenly felt tears flood her eyes—seven-year-old tears, tears she didn't notice till she blinked. Everything came speeding by in cold silence—seven years of living in the shadow of the castle, seven years of struggling through the relentless bonds. She had learnt the ways of magic, already—how to handle it constructively, how to use for good.

How not to lose control of it, and accidentally kill someone in the process.

Her sobs grew more violent, and stumbling across the path to a tree, the girl shivered in tears against its rough bark. She had been seven then and intelligent beyond her years, made a mistake ahead of her time—a mistake that would follow her deep into her adolescence and adulthood. Eventually. Forever.

But who was to know that the mistake wouldn't be made again? She was afraid. Akera feared for everyone she spent time with, for everyone who spoke to her. Would she let herself go again, and destroy another person she loved?

For that she had become an antisocial outcast of her own accord—forever locked within her own shaky, breaking construction of the world, forever fighting to keep others out of it. Forever pushing them away with offensive comments and snappy replies.

But never was her defence to be perfect. There was someone whom she could not quite understand, and found she could never force away. Him, the Fighter, the one whom she had met after capture, working in the Ellinia Station. No matter how many times she had tried to push Shirion out of her world and her heart, he had managed to break down all her defences and come a little deeper into her secret circle of protection.

Somehow, she knew how that brown-haired boy felt—he too knew the bitter coldness of solitude, and he too needed the love he had been denied. Exasperated, amused, somehow fond of his ways, she had granted that innocent wish of his.

Yet, throughout their long friendship, Akera had constantly feared for his life. She didn't want to let another die, just because she had been too foolish to let go of a friendship. She had to protect Shirion. By staying away from him.

And as Akera blinked again, rising to full height, gazing beyond the castle into the shining sky, words echoed from an obscure distance.

"You have a sweet voice, Akera. Why don't you sing for us?" they had asked, the calm night before. She had refused, for she had been a rebel. She had refused the love, the light, the hope—for she had believed it unnecessary. But now she knew she had needed it all along.

And now, Akera would find a way to accede to their request—for she liked to believe that there were ways to answer impossible questions.

There always were.

Blinking the tears away, Akera found her voice within her heart. It was the voice of a songbird with broken feathers. The heartbeat-song of a tear-stained world that she didn't want anyone else to know, guarded eternally by her wings.

I promise I'll find my way back to you, Mum and Dad, her thoughts whispered to her heart, as she began to hum a slow, sad tune. I'll find you again, and you'll hear me sing.


raydan: a homecoming

A lone Bowman stood among the fallen buildings on the outskirts of Kerning City. He grinned at the marks that the king's policemen had left—the blackness of the burns in the walls, walls that had been bombarded repeatedly in a futile attempt to infiltrate the city.

Kerning, the land of freedom, the land of the lawless—it had been his home since his birth. He was twelve now, a level 23 bowman, eight years since his sister had left.

Sister…

Every so often, Raydan still dreamt of her. The girl had never been any more than a vague notion in his heart. A beautiful girl, he liked to believe—for all that was left of her was a warm presence somewhere in the dregs of his past, a sense that there was someone out in the world whom he could rightfully call his big sister.

Eight years was a very long time—it was two thirds of his life. Though he should have lost hope long ago, Raydan continued to believe that she would turn up before him one day, smiling with pride to see what an amazing bowman he had become.

He still lived in the same house as he had when she had left, together with his parents. They had stopped hoping long ago.

But I must keep hoping! Oh, Sister, I am so gonna kill you for being gone so long!

Suddenly aware of the fact that he was still in a high-risk area, Raydan quickly pulled himself out of his thoughts and glanced about, bow wielded in his left hand. As if cued by his return to attention, a huge blue mushroom instantly leapt out of the ruins and came bouncing in his direction.

His swift hands strung an arrow before it could come any closer, and with a twang of the string and a blaze of blue, a streak of light soared and collided with the monster. It grunted with the impact of the arrow, struggling to shake of the surprise. Heart leaping with thrill, Raydan strung yet another, charging it up with his mana.

"Arrow Blow!" he cried, the second shaft swooping from his bow. Thwack. Then he stepped back in sudden shock. The mushroom's expression had suddenly transformed, all cheer leaving its bright eyes. Those brilliant depths suddenly narrowed—and with a great leap, it thundered forward, gaze locked upon him.

A string of expletives flooded from Raydan's lips as he realised that he had picked a fight with a full-grown bull mushroom at its prime. Gasping with fright and racing onto a high rock, he whirled around and fired two arrows at once. They whizzed through the air in orange flames, but as they scorched the mushroom's side, they did little damage—and still it advanced.

Another arrow flew with a sharp twang, the Bowman's mana flooding out like water through a broken pot.

Knockback, he chanted to himself as the wooden projectile struck. Knockback…

There was no Knockback effect. The monster didn't hesitate a second as it took the hit—and with continuous curses, Raydan was backed away with sore wingless feet, helpless with terror and understanding. It struck him, how simply absurd it was that he would die, after all these years, at the hands of a monster merely his level, so much smaller, slower, darker

Footsteps in the broken cement; an answering call. Stark and sturdy like steel, and so unnervingly powerful.

"Arrow Bomb!"

As Raydan glanced about to see where that sudden shout had come from, a flash of yellow expanded from the corner of the greyness, and burst the blue mushroom with a showering of golden fireworks. It fell over with a sharp cry, melting into the ground as the young bowman's glances grew more desperate, and finally landed upon the only other moving figure in the vicinity.

On a far ledge, some way beyond and higher than his own, stood a teenaged girl—a huntress—tall and lithe, her hair the same dark gold as his. She was in hunter's garb, and in her hand was a bow much longer and more graceful than his.

I want a bow like that, he thought briefly. Then, she looks amazing.

While he was pondering dazedly, the female youth proceeded to stride over with a smile of curiosity upon her face. "Careful when you're out here," she said with a good-natured grin. "What level are you?"

"Twenty-three," he replied, desperately trying to collect his thoughts under her gaze.

"And your age?"

"Twelve."

The girl smiled at him, a strange ruefulness showing in her eyes, suddenly. Not bothering to ask why she was feeling so, he searched his mental library for the best way to advance a conversation with a pretty girl.

"Thanks for saving me," he finally managed, holding her gaze bravely. "I nearly died there…"

The girl didn't seem to think anything of it. "Why're you alone out here?" she asked instead.

Raydan, flattered that she had asked, replied, "It's dangerous going beyond the border of Kerning, I know. Mum always says, ooh, you'll get captured here, you'll get captured there—but these are the only places we can hunt!"

She laughed at his words, a ringing sound that made his heart leap. "So, you live in Kerning?" she asked, raising her gaze in its dark direction. He nodded. "I lived there once… Well, thankfully, I've finally escaped from that stupid king and his castle. And now I can go home!"

Go home?

"How's it like?" he suddenly asked, alarm growing in his gaze. "Because my sister…" He sighed and looked down. "Will my sister be safe? Will she come back?"

"Perhaps, if she has luck," the huntress replied. "But if she has the spirit to fight, then she will return. Now I've got to get home. My family hasn't seen me for a long time…"

Just before she could depart, Raydan hurriedly offered to walk the huntress home, too hopeful to let go of such a chance. And such a beautiful girl, too. She accepted graciously, much to his delight—and together, they began to stroll through the ruins. It felt great.

"Oh, and what's your name?" the girl asked, a few minutes into their journey.

"Raydan," he replied with a smile. "How about—"

Raydan never managed to finish his question, for at the very next moment, he suddenly found himself trapped in the tightest embrace of his life.

From above him, he could vaguely make out the dark blonde hair and amber eyes of the girl he had only just met. "I can't believe this!" she screamed, crying tears of joy. "It was you all along, you silly guy! Dan...don't you remember me?"

Dan? Why does that sound so—

Raydan was completely lost for words. "Do I actually know you?"

"I'm Ralinn!" she barely gasped. "Your sister—I'm back!"

Now it was Ralinn's turn to be caught by surprise, as Raydan suddenly tightened his grip around her neck. "Ralinn!" he shouted, barely able to believe that this really was happening, and that it wasn't just a dream. That she was his sister. Part of him worried that he would suddenly wake up and find himself on his bed—but the warmth he felt encircling him, the tightness of this girl's embrace, was too real to be part of a dream. "I'm gonna kill you for coming back so late, Ralinn!"

It felt great. Amazing. This awesome, gorgeous girl was his sister. Ralinn, whom he had lost eight years ago, whom he had hoped would be alive every day of his life. Ralinn, his sister.

Now, they carried on towards their home, much anticipation suddenly sparked between them. Ralinn had not seen home for eight years. Both their parents were out at work at the moment, so they would be in for a surprise when they arrived home.

"And we're home!" Raydan said, turning the key in the lock as his heart thumped deep in his chest. Ralinn peered inside, saying nothing. But as they entered and she laid her sling bag on the side table, he saw that tears were welling in her eyes.

"It looks the same as before," she murmured, smiling so divinely that he felt he might cry himself. "But a lot must have happened, since I last saw you!"

"Yeah, Linn," the young bowman called out the nickname that he had used for Ralinn before. It felt like brushing away the dust of disuse, as if he were uncovering the remains of an old artifact he had once loved. "Linn, where have you been all this while? I want to hear everything, everything about what you did in those eight years!"

Ralinn glanced up from the sofa upon which she was resting, head leaned against one armrest, feet atop the other.

"It wasn't too bad," she replied. "Worked at the castle for three years, those were hard times. Then I escaped and went to Athena to become a Bowman. Then a Huntress. Oh, and I just came back from Orbis. I kept hearing a voice in my head, and it was telling me to form a guild—"

Something must have sparked in her mind, for now, Ralinn sat up straight from the sofa.

"Raydan," she said, suddenly dead serious, eyes fixed hard on his. "Do you want to put an end to all this suffering? The king has owned his throne too long. We have to end his reign. Will you join this cause?"

Raydan took not a moment's hesitation and nodded, though her graveness puzzled him slightly. "I miss you," he replied, words heavy with emotion. "I don't want anyone else to feel the same pain, ever again."

With a smile and a nod, Ralinn reached into her pocket, metal jangling inside. Then, to the bowman's surprise, she produced a bright gem on a sparkling chain. "Then join Orion's Belt," she replied.

Raydan reached out and grasped the chain, heart pounding with delight, with surprise. Then only did he notice that Ralinn also wore one, the bright, clear gem shining stark against her rough hunter's outfit.

Breath held, he placed it around his neck—and became a member of a guild. Ralinn's guild, Orion's Belt.


ralinn: the second member

Ralinn looked into Raydan's eyes, the exact same flaming amber as hers. Suddenly, she recalled the song, and she understood. Raydan had been waiting for her all this while. Her dear brother, Dan.

So, that done, the task of finding the third member of Orion's Belt stood before her. At least this is a start, she thought to herself, smiling at Raydan, who grinned unknowingly back. I've found the second member.

Then, feeling hungry after her tiring journey home, she stepped over to the dining table—the same one as before, now with many more scratches and dents—and took some of the chips from Raydan's packet, very much to his annoyance.


zethis: into the city

Pausing upon the rocky slope of the mountain, Zethis let out a breath of surprise. He was finally level 17. All around him, the uneven rock faces that had once looked treacherous to him now brought a queer sense of familiarity—and even peace. Around him lay the remains of the hoard of stumps that he had just slain—a leaf or two, as well as broken twigs, strewn across the hard ground.

One mere year ago, Zethis had been a weak little kid hiding within the safety of his foster father's home, waiting for him to arrive everyday with his dinner.

And now he lived alone, travelling the footpaths of the mountains in the northern region of Perion, killing and lighting fires for his own food. Like a real warrior. Like someone from the tribe of Perion itself. Such a change it had been, from that weakling last summer, to the battler that he was, now.

In this moment of solitary joy, Zetgus allowed himself a smile. Bending down, he picked up a handful of twigs from the ground, stuffing them into a pocket of his bag, before brushing his hands on his leather armour. His fruit knife had long been abandoned; he now held a gleaming steel mace in his right hand, and a tall metal shield in his left. One step closer, to becoming the White Knight he dreamt of being. One step at a time.

How far he had come, from his days as a boy who had never seen the world, hoeing the earth with his father. This was the sky he had never expected to touch. The metal rested perfectly in his hands, clad him well and strengthened him inside. But was this the furthest he would ever go? Something in the beckoning wind told him that he had many long distances to go.

Turning to face the mountainside, saw the blue distances before him, spread like an exquisite carpet of varying natural shades, held open beneath the sky. In its midst, he picked out the shapes of the piercing towers of the great western city, resting near the horizon. Kerning, he thought to himself, recalling. The lamp lit roads and bright signboards were still imprinted deep into his memory, burnt into his vision.

Sighing, he continued to gaze at the glorious city—the place where everyone could be free.

It's time for a change of scenery, he finally decided. He had lived around Perion for half a year since midwinter, when he had gone to get his first job. The sun was suddenly brilliant and calm, and the summer was drawing into the period of its deepest thawing warmth.

The unchanging, unending mountain scenery and the high-pitched bird calls were beginning to tire him. Sudenlly, he longed to return to the shadowed lights of the west. How would it look, under the stars of the autumn? No doubt he would only arrive then—or perhaps even in winter, when the world was white.

How he would love to see that mirthless silver and grey world dressed like a bride at her wedding, the night sky her groom. How the stars would smile and sing, blessing a city that had been cursed since birth.

I will go to Kerning City, Zethis decided.


ralinn: a soft voice

Ralinn glanced up in her dream, and looked around. There were eight more voices around her, she noted. One had drawn away, a silent source of light filled with contentment. Walking onwards, towards the one nearest to her, she listened. Its voice was so soft, she could hardly hear its words.

"Find me, guide me in my blindness

Find a song to still my heart.

Keep your smile and take my spirit

Stay by me, right from the start."

Ralinn began to think about these words. Was this person so "blind", as it said? Or was this figurative blindness? He was a boy, she could tell from his voice, and so inconfident too. But she heard, despite its softness, great strength and hope within.

I'll find you, she thought. I'm sure I'll find you.

The dream then left Ralinn, but this time, she was content with what she had learnt.


ketara: after a year

Finally! The warrior's heart underwent a rush of ecstasy, as he saw the world flash blue all around him. He had kept close count of his level-ups, and at last, he knew, he was qualified to become a Spearman. Level thirty!

It had been two years since he had left his foster mother in Ellinia, and now he was ready for his second job. Also, he recalled, a year had passed since he had made Dances with Balrog his promise: that he would make the choice between home and freedom, a year after his departure.

Ketara knew the answer to that question, now. All of a sudden, it was simply so obvious—his one year of living in the Dungeon had instilled such a love for freedom in him. And it was about time, too! Ketara had not met anyone new beneath the shadows of the Dungeon, besides the resident monks of Sleepywood. Now he recalled, with sudden longing, his encounter with the twins near the cave mouth, a year ago. Their images sometimes haunted him in his constantly darkening dreams—yet in those dreams, they were always kind. Smiling. Beautiful.

The lack of company was growing unbearable. An entire year was too long a time of solitude—the Warrior loved nothing much more than conversation and socialising. With no one to talk to, Ketara had begun to talk to his Fork on a Stick. That didn't help very much.

And thank goodness that I've finally reached level 30! He felt his mind gasp in relief. He couldn't wait to finally see sunlight again, after so long without it. Golden, syrupy sunlight. He couldn't bear the taste of raw meat for another day. He couldn't drink river water anymore. And, he mused, I need to get a haircut. The youth's hair already fell far beyond his shoulders, in messy tangles.

Within minutes, having packed up whatever remained of his battle equipment and other belongings, Ketara had begun to chart his path back northwards, if "chart" was the right word for stumbling aimlessly through the undergrowth in an arbitrary direction. He would not have been able to tell which way was north, if not for the direction that all the termite nests were facing.

Crashing through yet another bush of undergrowth, Ketara suddenly had the horrible thought that there might be no way out—that the sunlight he had once lived under was only an illusion. Yet, ever optimistic, he continued to walk, refusing to settle for that crushing conclusion.

It was about fifteen minutes into his vaguely-northward journey that the twelve-year-old boy heard a low, thumping sound in the leaves far ahead. The ground seemed to shake with each deafening crash of what might be feet, sending bolts of dread through him. And it was approaching him.

His breaths were warm, warm and deep and tangled, stirring his hair as his sweat began to slip down his forehead. Then they grew deep and steady as his soul slowly found its rhythm, and he dashed through the twigs, peering past the vine-covered tree trunks.

In the silence, his mouth fell open. In the clearing stood a towering green creature, its body seeming to gleam faintly with viscous slime. Ketara snatched his head away, mortified. Shall I fight it? Will it kill me first?

Crossing his fingers with one hand, pulling his spear from his belt with the other, he glanced up at the towering green mass again—and suddenly felt the warmth rush to his hands.

It was uncontrollable. The raging flames filled him up, before he could think. Bravery, burning through the tips of his fingers, the hairs upon his head, rendering him so stupid, so stupid. And at once he leapt from hiding, weapon blazing to life—swinging forth with all the power of his recklessness and certainty.

"Power Strike!" With the momentum of his body weight, he thrust the spear at the monster, the sparks of fire scattering, leaving a superficial scratch in its thick, translucent skin.

Well, I did it some damage! He thought, morale boosted. Again, he charged forward with a Power Strike, his mana quickly draining itself as he drove the weapon against its skin and gave it a long gash in its stomach.

The thing leapt and thundered back into the ground. The shock waves threw him down upon his back, among the thick shrubs of the undergrowth. As he pulled himself to stand, the creature leapt up again with terrifying suddenness, its huge slimy bulk surging forward and thrusting him back into the undergrowth, bruised and scraped among the twigs.

NoI'll never beat it, because I'm too close! I wish I had magic, or arrows, or—

Then he remembered the promise he had made, the day the bowman had humiliated him on the other side of the mountain. Magic and arrows were marks of cowardice. No. He would prove the stronger. The braver. As a warrior.

Rising again, Ketara found the strength to growl at the creature, drawing on his mana for another Power Strike. He yelled again, thrusting the Fork forward, plunging it into its skin. The point met resistance, and that resistance suddenly budged, and a wound tore in its stomach, from which green liquid spurted—the first successful hit.

But then, he hesitated.

And there was a cry of joy from behind—with that cry, far too rapidly, a barrage of metal discs snicked through the air overhead, flashing silver. With purpose they sliced forward, cutting deep into the huge slime bag's skin like knives in jelly. As holes suddenly began to sprout all over the monster, Ketara glanced back.

It was in that moment that two familiar people leapt out of the branches, purposefully ignoring his presence—and rapidly took up the battle, wilder than ever.

Somehow, the Warrior simply could not hold it against them for stealing his prey. He watched now in awe, as they waged war upon the colossal monster. They were swift as squirrels in the branches, leaping and shifting and whirling here and away as they attacked on both sides, the boy with streams of flame from his palms, and the girl with throwing stars.

Throwing stars? Fire magic? Where did they learn that?

And Ketara watched, helplessly fascinated, as the creature was beaten down by their combined power. And with a sudden thunderous strike from a fireball, its skin burst apart, its contents splattering on everything in the clearing, including him.

"I killed it this time!" the boy shouted triumphantly, snatching its fallen bubble from the ground, scraping the liquid from the roots into a spare bag. "Seventeen for me, and fourteen for you!" He laughed at the girl, who growled but said nothing.

"You again," she snarled in disapproval, turning from her brother to Ketara. "I thought you said that you wouldn't come back here! Just because you're so good-looking doesn't mean that we'll be easy on you!"

"I'm just passing through," he replied quickly with a smile and a tinge of embarrassment. "I'm going back to Perion."

"Hm, you're weird," the black-haired girl commented aloud in response, just as her brother finished gathering the monster's remains. "You're aren't screaming and running, when you should be." She paused. "And that's a…funnily nice thought…"

"Haha, no problem," Ketara said. "Could you show me the way to Perion?"

The dark-haired boy in the background suddenly appeared beside his sister. "Oh, you're back," he said. "Didn't you promise—"

"He's just passing through," his sister replied. "And he needs to know the way out. Do I—?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," the boy replied with a toss of his raven hair, striding haughtily away without another glance. The girl, after a small swear at her brother, proceeded to depart in a different direction.

Wordlessly, Ketara followed. "How's life been?" His voice quickly broke the silence as he approached her.

She paused and looked at him oddly. "Annoying," she replied with a trace of boredom, before turning back to the road.

"Why?"

The girl hesitated before replying. "Rino," she said, flinging her long black hair over her shoulder. "He won't stop trying to beat me at everything! Guys are always like that!" She rolled her eyes. "Why'd you care anyway?"

Ketara blinked, ignoring the annoyance in her voice. "Rino? Is that your brother's name?" he asked in curiosity.

"Uh…his real name is Turino," she explained. Then, seeming to make up her mind after a moment of thought, she added, "I'm Telida. We're…actually twins."

"Hi, Telida," the Warrior greeted her excitedly. With the revelation of her name, she suddenly felt less…distant. "My name is Ketara."

"It sounds like a girl's name," she commented. But Ketara only laughed with such optimism, for he was a spirit of joy, and had heard that comment far too many times.

"Yeah," he agreed with a grin, stopping. "I was named by a fairy." Actually, she named me so because she heard my name in a dream…

Telida said "wow" softly, before they resumed their forest trek. They spoke not for the rest of the journey, for Ketara's mind was full, full of colourful images flying about in his brain, questions he knew he couldn't answer. Who were they? How long had these two been here? If she had been living in the forest for all this while, who had taught her to use throwing stars? Who had given her her name?

She had appeared terrifyingly dark to him before; suddenly, he had realized that she wasn't as evil as he had pictured all this while. His dreams had always been right. But Turino didn't seem as nice as her…

The Warrior suddenly noted that the air around them was turning brighter than before. Ahead of him, he could see Telida's faint silhouette, her thin frame and swishing hair. Fascinated, he followed her onwards, beginning to notice the sunlight dancing on motes of dust circling the trees, bright like gold.

He barely saw the rim of the leaves pass them by, before true, blinding sunlight suddenly burst through the gaps in the treetops, the leaves peeling away into a golden afternoon.

In that blinding, brilliant image they stood, Telida sighing. "Well, here we are. Goodbye." She gave him a gentle push forward, and by the time he had turned around to return her greeting, she had vanished, leaving only a few leaves stirring in her wake.

Well. The Spearman-to-be glanced about blindly, the sunlight too bright for his eyes to handle, after almost a year in the darkness of the Dungeon. Finally, after so long.

As the minutes passed, he began to see more—the straggly weeds that lined the feet of the Perion mountains, then the rock faces and overhangs, and finally, the sky—the vast, scrolling sky that he had not seen, and had missed, for almost a year. He took in the smell of dry, sunlit air with thankfulness, feeling the almost nonexistent breeze with welcome, before heaving a great sigh of inexplicable regret, and starting on his trip up the mountain.

A few minutes after sunset, the village of Perion had come into Ketara's view. Now, after a year within the Dungeon with only dim torches for lighting, he could suddenly see things he had not been able to before—Stumps as they retreated into their hidden dens around the mountain; dark, shadowy trees waving in the dim moonlight—and most usefully, the well-trodden pathways that he had to take to reach the village of tents on the tallest mountain.

Stretching his legs for a few minutes, the warrior breathed deeply and gathered up his energy, giving a cry and racing up the remaining distance, arriving, panting, at the edge of the cosy little village.

I'm back, he thought with a bright smile. Then, with a pang of sadness, he recalled that he would never get to call Perion "home", as he had wished for two years. He loved the village, but he loved his freedom far too much to let go. His eyes closed to the village, and he wished it a soft goodbye. This would be his last look at the place for a long time.

But for now, Ketara still had his job advancement test to worry about—a test that many of his road friends had spoken of with much weariness. It would be quite a while before he truly departed from here.


Ketara could hardly sleep that night. Thoughts of his second job advancement, and of the test that awaited, spun around in his mind, stirring him awake with excitement whenever he came close to sleep. Finally, he did managed to, though, the exhaustion of the climb quickly crawling into his muscles.

The warrior awakened to a bright sky for the first time in a long time. He had almost forgotten how it was like to be awakened by the light of the sun, leaving it entirely to habit for those months in the darkness. Crawling along the leather into the open, he took a deep breath of morning air, and felt his eyes drink up the vividness of the sky above—blue, painted gold and orange at the edges.

Outside, the air was cool. Even compared to the air in the Dungeon, it was appreciably cool. The leaves of the Dungeon, he suddenly recalled, had been turning gold as he had left—and he realised at once that another year was entering its second half. Two and a half years, Mother, Elenlor! He called to his fairy foster-mother. I have reached level thirty!

Time had gone and come in a circle. It was exactly the same—the same as it had been a year ago. Ketara stood before the same door, awaiting the same person, in the same autumnal breeze. As he knocked, the door suddenly swung open to reveal the face of Dances with Balrog, who smiled upon sight.

"Right on time, Ketara! You kept to your word, I see," he said, allowing the Warrior inside.

"It's been quite an adventure," Ketara replied with a grin. "And I decided that I don't actually want to stay in Perion, if that is the price." He said this with surprising confidence. "It'd have been great, I'm sure—but there's a lot out there for me to see as well. Maybe I'll come back here once a year."

Then he changed the subject. "But that's not the reason why I came," he added, smile widening though his heart was quailing, all of a sudden. "I'm here to become a Spearman!"

Ah, that, indeed, is fast!" he responded, noting the fear in Ketara's eyes though he concealed it deep. "Fear not, child. Come with me."

Though his limbs were shaking now as he followed the Job Master out of the Sanctuary, Ketara felt his heart leap with ecstasy. At last, the time was here for him to prove his worth of a new title! Of course, he felt doubtful of whether he would make it through, but he quickly covered those thoughts up with prospects of what he would be doing. What kind of test would it be?

The questions were all answered as soon as Dances with Balrog came to a stop, about a mile from Perion, on a ledge overlooking a valley that smelt of monsters. Far beneath, he saw shadows raging around in the valley, too far for him to discern their size. Ketara didn't know if it was his imagination, but did he hear strange, savage roars from where they ran? These sounds were too loud to belong to those monsters, surely?

As the monsters continued to thunder about beneath, Dances with Balrog called for Ketara's attention. "The job is easy," he briefed the nervous warrior. "You go in there, kill the monsters, and obtain thirty dark marbles from their carcasses. Simple as that. Ready?"

Ketara didn't feel so sure. Easy? Those things sound horribly huge! "But…I might die there!" he blurted out, then regretted voicing his fears.

"Don't you worry," Dances with Balrog replied with such strength it almost magically chased his fears away. "I'll be watching. If you're in trouble, I'll come to save you." His voice was comforting, but Ketara still felt the fear filling his stomach.

"I'm ready," he finally said, loud and hopeful.

"Alright. On the count of three. One…two…"

Ketara swallowed, wanting badly to prove himself worthy a new title, and at the same time mortified that he might die in the valley below. I'm not a coward! He reprimanded himself for his doubt, within the last second between the "two" and "three". His second job advancement awaited, just beyond this challenge!

Like thunder, the Perion chief's powerful shout of "three" echoed through the mountainsides, making the monsters below pause momentarily with what might have been shock. As the shadows circled below, waiting for him, Ketara felt his adrenaline surge as he leapt down to the first ledge between him and the creatures below.

The wind buffeted the mountain, flying straight up against his face as if slapping him with coldness. At once, new, fresh exhilaration surged through his body. Riding upon this momentary tide of hope, he stumbled further down the mountainside, further through the winds, on and on and on towards his doom.

Like drums in the dust they rolled and raged—awaiting him far, far below.

Halfway down his route through the mountainside, a familiar smell hit his nose. Wild boars! The crude monsters brought terrible recollections back. Their scent mingled with the tang of smoking flesh, and he knew that this would be something he had never seen before.

Heat soon engulfed the young warrior, and the smell of the beasts grew stronger around him. The sun seemed to burn on his skin, his hands growing sweaty in the oven-like heat of the valley. This was definitely not normal. But what did he expect? This was a test, a test which decided if he was worthy of a second job or not.

The grunts were deafening, swelling in psychopathic rhythm around him. Among the monsters, he noticed as he came closer on the ledge he stood on, there were what looked like the monkeys he had seen on the way to Kerning a while ago. This species was Lupin, he was sure. They were notorious for being able to use their bananas as weapons.

Ketara was close enough now. The rank raw smell of monsters made him gag, almost suffocating him with lack of air to breathe. Sweat was running down his forehead and neck; he had not felt so hot before.

He was perched on the ledge, teetering on the edge between hope and flame—waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

A circling dance of chaos and certainty. Windows opening, closing, opening again in brown-and-black patterns that swirled before his eyes...

"Slash Blast!"

With a powerful yell, the boy flew down to take the drums, the dance, swinging his Fork on a Stick with power drawn from mana. As it met the monsters beyond a dark cloud of sand, they gave terrified groans and squeals, the white-hot metal burning into their flanks and jaws and throats. Whirling in a dance, in a chase, he slashed in every direction he could find, into every ounce of flesh he could lay his weapon on. Survival, he chanted unto himself, silently, steadily. Survival or death. Take your pick. And he raged and battled on through the thick of shadows, tearing about like a savage tangled in ropes, ready to win and to conquer.

The dust cleared; around him stood boars in messy ranks, their backs blazing and eyes red—and Lupins, teeth bared in pain. Some bore gashes, deep, nonetheless; some looked ready to charge at him. He only saw all this for a few seconds, before the monsters surged in his direction, eyes narrowed, boar tusks extended in menace.

Ketara's cry of pain was as fierce and as livid as tusks were buried into the flesh of his leg, jabbing themselves through the chain-mail that was supposed to protect him. The flames on their backs burnt his arms, and all was flashing for that second. He was pelted with banana skins, the points hitting his head and face hard.

Eww, he thought to himself, wiping the gooey remnants of banana skin off his face, stumbling back to stand as he threw the monsters off. Just like I did, so many months ago. Just like last time. Rising and standing again was nothing much, after hundreds of falls off trees and rocks in the Dungeon, after slipping in hidden mud puddles and tripping over roots. He could fight on. There was still a vast well of energy in him.

He Slashed again, with ripping red light. The monsters around him were thrown aside, their bizarre cries making his bones shiver. His energy and mana dropped once more, and he felt more exhausted than he had been a few moments ago.

Maybe I should change my strategy, he thought, thoughts flying in a whirl as the monsters regrouped around him. Hitting all at once wasn't working. He had to go one by one.

Thirty Dark Marbles…he thought with sudden dread and exhaustion. He hadn't obtained a single one!

The best thing to do, Ketara suddenly realised, was to find a place where the monsters could not get him, but he could easily hit them.

Searching for the perfect location, he raced over to the rock face before any of the monsters could charge into him. Scrambling up onto the lowest ledge, which he could barely reach, he managed to pull himself onto it, scraping his knees and almost tearing his nails.

He caught his breath for a few seconds and looked down at the swarm of monsters below him. A banana peel suddenly came flying at the warrior, and he dodged aside, only just in time. There had to be a way. Others of the same level and strength as him had passed this test before.

But maybe it's because they're worthy of it, and I'm not, he noted with tiredness.

But no, he refused to give up. Not when he had trained himself so hard. Looking over the ledge, Ketara focused on one of the boars, caught up in the frenzy of the herd, and not seeming to notice the warrior watching its back from above.

"Power Strike!" he shouted, pouring his energy out in the form of a powerful attack. Unfortunately, his hidden power was not drawn out, but this attack did enough damage. Below him, the fire boar had turned to him, eyes burning into his, full of terrified pain.

Again, he struck. The boar tried to leap to where he stood, but missed the edge of the ledge, hooves scrabbling on the rock, for loss of blood. Ketara saw his chance to finish it, and finding a weak spot to the left of its spine, he ran it through with his Fork on a Stick, digging it sideways once it was in. A chunk of its flesh almost detached from its body, and it fell, dead.

No Dark Marble.

Trying not to let despair consume him, Ketara searched for a different enemy. The hoots and screeches of the Lupins drew his attention, and he wondered if more of them held the treasure he sought.

Hitting the annoying monster with the point of his spear, he found the point meeting its leg, tearing into its flesh. It gave a call of anger and pain, before turning to him, ready to jump. This time, he wasn't so lucky. It leapt to his level with ease, and for the first time, he noticed how long its claws were.

I can do this, I can do this! Raising his spear bravely, he acted as his reflexes told him. The stomach, the stomach is its weakness!

The Lupin flew forward and swept its claws over his face. At the same moment, ready, Ketara shifted the spear forward with some force, allowing the monster's momentum to do the rest of the damage. It screamed, a sound of terror that made his spine tingle. "Power Strike!" Again, he used the high-powered attack, to great effect this time. His weapon tore its entire arm off, the flames that accompanied his attack turning its fur black.

"Try this!" He launched forward with one more attack, and the monkey fell back, mouth falling open. Its hand fell open, and Ketara found a round black gem in its hand, its surface gleaming. Too exhausted to feel joyful, he grabbed the object and stuffed it down his pocket.

Hours passed like minutes. Ketara repeatedly targeted one monster at a time, returning higher to rest for ten minutes at a time, before returning to the low ledge to kill more monsters. The Dark Marbles in his pocket began to weigh more and more, and so did the pain of the injuries he was receiving. He had only one quarter of the potions he had bought the day before, and only seventeen Dark Marbles.

I know it's possible, he thought, more confidently now. He had collected more than half the number he needed, the objects still cold in his pocket, even though they had been in there for hours, unwarmed by his body.

He had been unable, as of yet, to unlock his hidden power. Intermittently he wondered why he was unable to do so, when it had been so easy other times. He seemed to be able to manage it when under a lot of pressure. Maybe this wasn't bad enough a situation for his powers to show themselves.

Just as the sun was setting, Ketara found his twenty-sixth marble. The fire boar's flames died down, its mouth falling open. From between its tusks, he took the Dark Marble, disliking the feeling of the fur and skin encircling his hand, before leaping back up the ledges to a safe spot above.

I have to finish this fast! Now! His desperate thoughts spun around like a whirlwind. The sun was descending fast beyond the mountain peaks, the skylight growing darker, the firelight below his vision growing brighter. Soon, he would be caught in the grasp of the night, and he would never find his Dark Marbles that way.

Taking a last glance at the setting sun, Ketara threw away all thought and common sense, for thinking would keep him from his goal, and he leapt off the ledge, into what now looked like a flaming pit of Spirit's Passageway, the legendary punishing ground.

He knew that he had to do it now, or never pass the test. Already, their smell and warmth were engulfing him in an unending tide, and at once, instinct told him to make his move. Now!

"Slash Blast!" Ketara knew that this would do nothing, and that the monsters would bury him under their weight, smother him to death. But who cared! He would make it out. He would. He would come out victorious.

As his spear went in a full circle around him, he felt pain jab him as his arms tore through all the monsters that surrounded him immediately, and he pushed it to the back of his mind; there was no room for thought about pain now. Flames licked at his heart, blazing in him like a growing furnace, and all at once, his arms, his body was filled with inhuman energy.

Yes! I needed this! Once again, an enormous well of energy reopened within him, giving him power that grew stronger as the sky darkened. He took a gasp mid-move, thrusting his head to the sky. Stars! They shone on him, and the very sight of them, rushing through the pathways of space-time, raised his spirits and his strength.

And his body moved of its own accord, suddenly—stabbing, swinging, slashing, anticipating attacks even before they came, and fending them off instantaneously. All at once, he was standing among heaped carcasses, the boars' flames dead, the Lupins sprawled across the ground. Four glossy marbles shone prominent against the mass of fur and carrion.

Giving an exclamation of triumph, Ketara climbed up the ledge, the last four marbles now in his pocket, which was weighing him down a great deal. Wondering briefly if Dances with Balrog was still there, he climbed up the darkening ledges, rough at his touch, with amazing agility.

"Well-fought!" Dances with Balrog still stood watching, no trace of tiredness or boredom. "You took at least an hour less than an ordinary person." Really?

Ketara was genuinely surprised. "Have you been standing here all this while?" he asked, quite shocked that he had had the patience to stay and watch the entire process of his terrible battle. All of a sudden, the after-effects of his sudden rush of power seemed to wear off, and he felt tired, sleepy, completely fatigued.

"H-hey, I need…a rest," he said, shoulders hunched.

Dances with Balrog nodded. "Your Dark Marbles first," he replied, holding out his battle-worn hand. Ketara looked up and reached into his pocket, trying to gather up all the marbles in his hand. In the end, he decided to get ten marbles out at a time, and he did so, counting off the thirty marbles, terrified that he had fallen short of one or two.

Thankfully, triumphantly, he produced the thirtieth marble from his pocket, letting this last handful of ten fall into the Job Master's hand. Ketara smiled, that smile in itself unable to contain all the joy and success, relief and exhaustion that now welled inside him.

"Good job, Ketara," Dances with Balrog repeated. "I'm sure you want to get your job advancement now, instead of having to go all the way back to the Warrior's Sanctuary, right?" Ketara nodded eagerly.

The Perion chief smiled and nodded. Then, holding Ketara's face in his palms, he said, "Then, by the powers of the Dragon, I hereby name you…a Spearman." Ketara gasped as heat, burning, swept through his face, down through his heart and his entire body. He heard a colossal roar behind him, and a bright flash illuminated everything around him for an instant.

Then it faded, and he was staring into Dances with Balrog's eyes, slightly dizzy, panting with something that felt like fear. At once, realization struck him that he was a Spearman. A true Spearman! It felt amazing just to know.

"Well, so, Ketara, tell me what you're going to do after this," he said.

Ketara looked up at the starry sky. "I…I don't actually know," he admitted, to the chief, and to himself.

Dances with Balrog quickly jumped to his unexpected offer. "Then do you want to come and become my secretary?" he exclaimed. "I've been needing one for years; all my stuff is in a mess."

Knowing that he had nothing better to do now, the Spearman nodded with a smile. "No problem, as long as I get to meet new people!" he replied excitedly. "Are you sure a twelve-year-old would do?"

"Yeah, of course! Come on, your job starts tomorrow! You need some rest."

The two walked back towards Perion in the mountain autumn wind.

Time for a new chapter to start, I guess, Ketara thought.


zethis: party quest

At last!

Zethis had spent the entire autumn training in Kerning. He, at last, had reached the fruit of his long labour—he was now level 21, eligible for the kerning Party Quest.

All around him as he ran, the streets, lamps and parapets decorated with blankets of snow.

"PQ! Need two more members!" the calls of the party leaders at the Party Quest entrance were excited in the cold air, and Zethis raced up towards the small crowd he saw at the opening of the pipes.

The warrior glanced about at the people who crowded the entrance, all not seeming to notice him. Which was just as well. He didn't like to be noticed, especially by people he didn't know. Even though he was a year older, he hadn't gotten over his fear of strangers.

A snowfall had started again, and the boy looked up to see the snowflakes descending from the clouds towards him, in a blinding whirl of fantasy.

"Need a party?" Just as Zethis was enjoying the view above, a boy, probably around his age, leapt in front of him with a bright smile and an exclamation.

"Aargh!" he could hardly contain his scream of terror. Heart pounding, he quickly regained composure, taking a closer look at his "attacker".

"Whoa, easy," the boy said, trying to get the warrior to calm down. "Do you want a party?"

Noting his words for the first time, Zethis nodded. "Pleased to meet you, I'm Raydan," he said, holding his bow behind his back. "Level 29 bowman. Ah, can't wait for second job!"

Zethis nodded and bowed, now embarrassed about his initial response to Raydan's invitation. "Uh…uh…Zethis," he answered, stammering. "I'm level—level twenty-one!"

The bowman held out a hand to his forehead, giving him a sudden jolt of heat above his eyes. "Welcome to my party," Raydan replied. "By the way, you have nice hair. I wish my hair were as light as yours."

"Ah—" That remark had caught him by surprise, and Zethis couldn't say any more than that. He glanced up at the strands of straw-gold hair that poked into his vision, then back at the boy's dark gold. "Er…thanks…" No one had ever said anything about his hair before. He swept it back self-consciously.

"So," Raydan went on. "Party Quest next?" He called out behind himself, and three others soon came, among them another bowman, as well as a cleric and a female mage. "This is the rest of our party, for this PQ."

Zethis smiled nervously at them, mumbling a soft "hi".

About an hour after Raydan had gone to stand in queue for the Party Quest, he suddenly came running towards them, grinning. "We're next!" He called. Zethis had not spoken to any of the other three members, and neither had they spoken to each other: it seemed that none of them knew any of the others. Raydan's shout had given him a shock.

Almost instantly, Zethis saw the whirl of a staff gem in the hand of a robed woman, somewhere off in the distance. At once, the bricks, the tar of Kerning around him began to whiten, whiten, fade around him as he watched.

The shrill cry of a marsh bird sent him flying out of his daze. Marsh bird? He was definitely in a different place now. It smelt different, and was hotter. A lot hotter. There was not a hint of snow here.

Slowly, Zethis looked around to take in the new scenery and smell around him. Water, everywhere, gleaming under the sun, under the light that flowed in from between the leaves. Mud, its smell surrounding him, the brown sludge thick below his feet.

Ligators! He saw the huge reptilian beasts lying by the rocks and swamp banks, rough olive skin shiny and wet with mud and slime.

"Stay down here!" Raydan's voice suddenly reminded him, thankfully, that he was not alone in this new area. The bowman was racing towards the sleepy crocodiles that lay, feet on the marsh bed. "Go get your quest from Cloto!"

"C-Cloto?" Zethis called in puzzlement, before seeing the mystically-dressed, staff-wielding woman around whom two of the others were standing. He ran over as well, feeling the mud splash on his unguarded upper shins.

The woman, Cloto, waited expectantly as he gasped out about his "quest" to her.

She nodded. "You must gain the number of tickets equivalent to the level you have to be to become a thief, warrior or bowman," she explained simply.

The number took no thought to to figure out. How to get them, though, stumped him. He looked about and saw where all the other party members stood, battling Ligators.

Zethis swallowed, heart suddenly thumping madly. Ligators? He knew that they were too powerful for him to handle. He would never get the tickets…

"Zethis! How many do you need?" Zethis had not caught Raydan's words the first time, so he ran closer to the edge of solid ground, where it gently sloped into the swamp, to listen.

"Ten," he replied, again remembering his companions. Would Raydan really be able to get so many for him?

It seemed so. The bow-user stood on a facing bank of the swamp, arrows flying from the weapon in his hands like birds leaping off a tree branch. One by one, he shot the monsters down, each one allowing a yellow card to float out of its mouth as it sank into the depths of the marsh in a trail of bubbles. Raydan snatched each one up swiftly as he waded a short way into the water.

Zethis waited a while, watching in fascination as the rest of the party fired at the monsters, the creatures occassionally evading their attacks, the spells and arrows plunging down into the swamp as well. He became conscious, all of a sudden, of the sword that hung useless at his side.

The instant he saw Raydan and the rest racing to where he was, he knew that they were all done. Sometimes, I wish I could distance-attack, he thought with a twinge of regret that he was unable to do so. The only thing he could do was use the Three Snails skill, which was not very useful.

"Come on now," Raydan said, pushing a bundle of yellow tickets into his free left hand. They were wet, but amazingly clean and dirt-free.

Zethis bowed. "Thanks," he said sincerely.

At the gate, Cloto fed the tickets one by one through the electric gate, until there were enough, and it slid vertically open.

They stepped over into the next stage, Cloto following them. Considering that they were walking over mud, she was still as elegant as ever, as she treaded across the muddy ground.

"Two people are needed for this stage," she said as they came to a stop next to another electric gate. "I need two of you to try hanging on these vines in different combinations. Once the right combination is found, the door will open."

Raydan glanced at the four other party members, who looked back, Zethis included.

"You," he said, picking the mage. "And you." Zethis suddenly felt faint as the bowman grabbed his arm and dragged him over.

The two of them began to climb up the four vine ropes that hung from the treetops, trying each rope in cycles as the gate repeatedly refused to open for them. Zethis found it not as hard as he had thought to climb, but the rough surfaces of the vines were beginning to make his hands blister.

"Yes!" Finally, the gate decided to open as Zethis finally found himself climbing a new rope. Gladly, he leapt off the vine rope, brushing his hands on his pants before following the rest through the glowing green doorway.

The other side of the gate was totally unlike the area they had just exited. As Zethis stepped through, he felt cold wash through him, and suddenly found himself in the middle of a dark forest, the swamp bird sounds replaced by the endless rustle of leaves and the cries of forest creatures. He was almost blind here, if not for the row of torches that burnt in the trunks of the gnarled, pillar-like trees.

The third stage was another "combinations" stage, except that there were six barrels with kittens in them, and that three people had to do it this time. Zethis took a rest while the other three progressed with the tiring search for the right combination of barrels.

About ten minutes did it, and soon, the next gate spun into life, a whirl of green lights that shone stark in the darkness of the shade of branches.

"Here goes, our last stage," Raydan called out to the rest, before his figure vanished through the gate.

Once all were through, there were sparks all around, and huge lizard beasts appeared, wide single eyes gleaming yellow like topazes that glared brightly at them.

"Arrow Blow!" Raydan's arrow caught the first, making it wince in pain as the projectile spun into its eye with a burst of bright blue.

"Magic Claw!" the Cleric boy's powerful spell ripped through its eye, bringing death upon it. Zethis ran into the battle, as did the rest, and began to fight, fight the monsters that lay, challenging, ahead.

Death followed death as the arrows, magic and blades tore through the monsters one by one, the party members extracting one ticket from each fallen monster, tossing their bodies aside to clear their path.

"King Slime," Raydan said, leading them through the trees, towards their final step to victory. Just beyond, the thumps of the King Slime's colossal footsteps collided with their ears. "Come on, it won't be too hard. Zethis, stay clear for the time being."

Zethis complied without a complaint. He knew he would not survive anyway. Still, he yearned, as he watched the rest inch closer, aim, and attack the boss with their long-range attacks, to have powers like theirs. It was something he had wished more than once this day already.

Bang. Whizz. Rumble. The battle ended quickly as it had begun, the bag of slime tumbling over the roots, its life liquid drained from a leeching hole in its front. The rest of the party cheered, before Raydan called out to Zethis, and they departed together.

The instant they arrived before Cloto and she swept her staff over them, Zethis saw a shower of blue all around him, as he suddenly gained another level upon the completion of their quest.

"Thanks," he said sincerely as they materialized outside, before the canal at the entrance to the swamp, the sounds of gushing water drowning out most of the chatter of the other waiting parties. Raydan nodded.

Something glinted on the bowman's neck. Unsure but curious all the same, he glanced down at the pendant that hung on his chest—a bright-jewelled ornament which seemed to shine with more power than was apparent.

Raydan noticed Zethis' interest in the pendant and held it up. "My sister has a guild," he replied. "I just joined it a few months ago." He was silent for a while. Then his eyes sparked all of a sudden. "Oh! Would you like to end the suffering in Victoria Island?"

Zethis looked on, puzzled, then nodded. "I-is it something to do with your guild?" he asked.

Raydan nodded with a grin. "Then come with me! We'll find my sis, and she'll guild you."

Come with me! The words echoed back from a distant memory. Of course! Those were the words he had heard, that moment, when Dances with Balrog had sent him spiraling into a world of stars, for a few, breathtaking seconds. Those words of fate, that had been uttered so calmly in his vision, now recurred.

Was this fate for him? Not knowing, he followed Raydan, his new friend, through the streets of Kerning.


ralinn: blessing of shadow

The huntress, unknowing that someone now sought her, strolled the dimming street, snow-laid. The snow had stopped falling for a while already, and it was beginning to thaw a little. By next snowfall, the ground would be slippery, and extremely dangerous.

When is Raydan going to be done…she pondered continuously. Her brother had gone for the Kerning Party Quest, and had not yet returned to this spot, where they had promised to meet. Where was he?

She glanced up at the sky as it faded, and the clouds masked the dawning starscape once again. Then, looking ahead at the building before her, she gave a scream. A dark figure, completely black-clothed, was perched on the parapet of the second level, eyes peering from over a black mask at her.

The man leapt down. He was taller than she; hair black as the night sky, eyes narrowed. Instantly, she recognized him for who he was.

"D-Dark Lord…" Ralinn's gasp faded in her throat.

The man pulled off his mask and smiled sadly. He was incredibly handsome. Ralinn tried not to meet his gaze. He looked to be in his twenties, but there was experience in his eyes that far surpassed that age.

"Athena Pierce's student?" he asked, coming closer and eyeing her bow, which she gripped tighter..

"Her close friend too," Ralinn replied, as if saying so would raise her status in the eyes of the thief Job Master.

It did. The Dark Lord walked a circle around her, eyes still filled with sadness she could not understand. "I miss her," he sighed. "She is fine, isn't she?"

Slightly surprised at the emotion in his voice, she nodded. She had recognized it instantly as love. Is it possible…?

"Glad to know," was his reserved reply. "Whom are you waiting for? You have been here for a long time."

"Have you been watching me so long?" she asked, taken aback. "I'm…waiting for my brother. He's at the Kerning Party Quest."

He nodded. "I don't know why, but…I can sense a grand, epic future for you," he said. "You might come close to death more than once. So I grant you my blessing." Before Ralinn had registered what he had said, he had taken her face in his hands, as Athena had done in her job advancements. A jolt of black shot through her eyes, and she shivered, feeling the darkness infuse her entire body.

"Don't take this blessing figuratively, as most are," he advised. "When you require my power, think of me, think of this day, and I will be there to help you."

Ralinn gasped softly, and opened her mouth to thank the Dark Lord, but the instant the words were in her throat, he had vanished into the deep evening, leaving not even a trail of footprints in the snow.

"Ralinn! Ralinn, there you are!" the familiar voice brought a smile toher lips as she whipped around, to see her brother racing towards them, leading another boy around his age towards her.

The boys came to stop before her, panting hard as if they had sprinted all the way. The first thing Ralinn noticed about her brother's companion was his golden hair, light even in the sunset.

He looked up at her face, looking strangely afraid of her. "Uh…you're…Raydan's sister?" he inquired nervously. "Ralinn?" Ralinn nodded.

He paused, thinking. "It's you! Athena Pierce wishes to say hello to you!" his exclamation was amazingly loud, as compared to how softly and fearfully he had spoken earlier. His voice reverted to its original volume instantly. "Hi, I'm—I'm Zethis…"

"Nice to meet you, Zethis," Ralinn replied, feeling a little self-conscious because of his nervousness.

"He wants to join your guild," Raydan cut in.

Suddenly, she recalled the voice, the second, soft voice.

"Find me, guide me, lead my blindness

Grant the wishes in my heart.

Hold your smile, show me your kindness

Stay by me, right from the start."

Had that been his voice? "Do you wish to put an end to the suffering in Victoria Island?" she questioned. He nodded, eyes bright with light she rarely saw in anyone's.

So, in the midst of the snowy nightfall, she put the pendant round his neck, and it was done. The third member had been found.


end of the year

Zethis, Raydan and Ralinn stood in the snow, still for a few moments, watching the dance of the stars.

Ketara peered out of the window from behind Dances with Balrog's messy desk, taking a momentary break from his tiring chore.

Shirion watched the clouds uncover the sickle-moon from the branch of an Ellinian tree, praying on the starlight for freedom.

Turino and Telida lay sleepless in a hollow, the snow and the sky shaded from them by the ancient, tangled branches.

Akera lay sleeping in a hidden shed within the abandoned fields of Henesys, eyes closed from the faint lights above, ever watching, ever singing their lullabies.

It is only a matter if time before everything starts to happen.

Enter the Year of the Pig.


Don't ask. I think Dark Lord and Athena Pierce make a nice pair (I don't know if you think the same...)

Reviews please.

Thank you so much for that compliment. I think I can say that my music is better than my art. I can't say the same about my voice, though... I'm a songwriter-not-singer (not professional though).

Just something that your comment seems to hint at, which I want to clarify. Are you an album producer?