Chapter 5: Pain

Unending haze made the weeks drag by. The blast had taken everything away from him: Menodora, Maxus and Adelia were all suddenly gone leaving a consuming emptiness behind. John and Sari, Menodora's parents, did what they could for Dane. All of them comforting each other when the pain of their losses became too much.

Arkarium's expertise was requested to contain and then dissipate the mass amount of Anti-magic that blanketed the city. Once the task was complete, the alchemists of the city were able to begin rebuilding and healing those that were alive and severely injured.

Regrettably chaos descended onto all of Margata in the form of passive war between the Acaldos and the Zumistes, each faction fiercely blaming the other for the catastrophe of the Great Circle. The Zumistes blamed the Acaldos for the careless creation of their machines that, to their eyes, ultimately rejected the organic components. Madae and The Acaldos in turn blamed the Zumistes for not creating their biological components with the durability to withstand the stronger, inorganic mechanical components.

"It was pure folly to think that machines could live as humans do! Your mechanical creations vaporized the flesh of the body creating too much energy for the Great Circle to handle!" Carl would shout when he caught sight of Madae.

"You would think those who specialize in creating organic material for this very purpose would know how to do such a thing!" Madae shot back making Carl grind his teeth in rage.

"Our research was perfect! If you had properly trained your apprentice, the Great Circle wouldn't have been compromised! You no doubt told him to sabotage the experiment so that you could have exclusive access to Dr. Long and his favor!"

"I banished him from the Acaldos weeks before this happened. Russel was acting on his own! If you hadn't agreed to show him what you had of your beliefs, I wouldn't have had to dismiss him when his experiments became too immoral!"

"Immoral?!" The would continue to escalate into violence as until the factions split the city entirely. Russel was ultimately imprisoned for his actions after having his eye and part of his face grafted with a mechanical replacement.

No trace of Dr. Long was ever found. But his Humanoid-A body did survive which seemed to contain some of Dr. Long. He still had his brilliant mind for Alchemy and science, but it was nowhere near what Dr. Long was nor did he have any memory of Felicia or Keni. He did seem to have a strong care for the both of them however, staying with them as a helper and tutor. Falicia believed that if there was some part of Mathias that still existed in the world that one day it would come back to her.

While glad that Dr. Long's experiment had succeeded at least in part, the gnawing emptiness still ate at him. His research of Darkness became a chore. He would read through his and Menodora's notes, feeling a presence surround him in warmth and comfort. A few times he thought it might be some fragment of Menodora. Or perhaps it might have been his mind wandering to a memory of her during a time of idle thought while reading.

The feeling would come and go, each time more and more like another person and not just a memory. Maybe there was some small piece of Menodora left, just waiting for him to bring her back. He began to search in earnest for a way to isolate that presence; it was a glimmer, the spark of hope he needed to spur him on. But as the months drug on, his search brought him to one absolute conclusion: there was no bringing the dead back.

That presence persisted however, almost urging him on to finish what he had started. His loss of Menodora brought him new insights to Darkness. It stemmed from scars left behind in people's hearts, wounds inflicted by the trails life brought and became any number of things.

If these wounds were left unattended, they would fester into poisonous wells of pain overflowing out of control. These wounds often manifest themselves as violence, depression, greed, and depravities of the worst sort in human kind in an attempt to find a cure. But none would come. Any chance of healing these wounds was remote at the absolute best, non-existent at its worst.

Some, while initially attended to, were not cared for enough and thus never healed fully. These wounds lingered long into a person's life, tainting their life as a whole. And when an attempt was made to revive the part of their life the wound was initially created, the wound often worsened and brought back the pain from before in full force. These wounds often manifest as people who seemed to be distant, longing for company but turning it away at the first sign of genuine care.

Other wounds, while deep, would be hidden away by the one that had been wounded in an attempt to seem healed and not burden those close to them. These wounds would never heal and never be cared for, left in a perpetual state of trauma. The wound would be hidden away and forgotten about until some conversation forced the wounded one to visit it, only to tuck it away again. These wounds often manifest as constant happy, upbeat attitudes followed by intense periods of quiet. Though these were hard to find as they were very similar to those who were genuinely upbeat and friendly.

In the uniquely rare occasion that the wound would be well cared for and fully healed, sometimes the person would still remember the pain for the rest of their lives. These wounds would often be reopened by the person, often these wounds would devolve into hate and destruction. Dane knew this deep pain all too well. It felt as if the life had been torn from him when Menodora was taken from him. It just wasn't fair that her bright life was taken from a world that could use it. Had it not been for that presence's constant warmth, he felt that his heart would have easily succumb to the hate and rage that boiled within him. This presence felt as if it was made of the healing outward light the world needed.

Turning his attention to the 'Light' he and Menodora had discovered, he tried desperately to find a way to harness it once again and combat the Darkness. But it seemed there was no conclusive way to simply think of Light and erase or push back the Darkness. It was far more stubborn then that. And no one person seemed able to generate enough outward directed light which became stronger when sharing it with another person, friend or otherwise.

A year passed and then, it came.

A potent famine spread through all of Usoria and it spread quickly. Those within area of Margata tried to do as much as they could to slow it down but it still spread wildly. Even the lush and plentiful gardens of Nu Long in the south west were decimated by the famine. Word filtered down from Orion that the Emperor sent out aid as far and as fast as he could.

Dane shifted his focus from his work on Darkness to the cause of the sudden onset of this famine. Entire crops would simply wither overnight, fruits grown in the East Dragon Forest would rot off their branches. Nothing was safe. He threw himself into the study of magic, the only counter that seemed to stay the famine. Magic may not have been the ultimate answer, but it was a step towards finding one.

That presence still followed him wherever he went as he left his life in Margata behind to help stem the tides of the famine. To some degree he came to understand that it wasn't Menodora, but he couldn't help but imagine that it was some part of her. That sentiment was enough to give him the energy needed to keep moving, helping those he met in the world. As he would travel, poorly made beasts made of shadow began to appear, the same he and Menodora had faced years before. People and fellow clerics began dubbing him 'The White Mage' for his selfless acts and his snow-white hair.

But it just wasn't the same. He could spend all of the rest of his life helping those in need: curing illness, bringing food, hope, money and comfort to those that need. Without Menodora, It drained him. Dane could feel with each passing day the light he had built with her fading from his life. His heart would ache every time his visited a village where both of them had been before and would ask where she was. But he pushed on, stretching out what little light of Menodora was left as much as he could. She would want to help those in need, and Dane wanted to preserve that as much as he could, nevertheless how long could he make it last on his own?

Ariel followed this man Dane every chance that she found an opportunity. She was a goddess, yes, but in her reflective thoughts, she found that she had been abhorrently absent in her duties to the people of Usoria. Minerna had charged her and her two brothers, Haim, Deity of Life, and Nanahuatzin, Deity of Light, to watch over this world. But Ariel felt her powers limited her to a lonesome existence: she was granted the mighty power to watch and control Time itself.

When she was first given this duty, she used her power to stretch moments for some people into hours so that one moment could be remembered well or help those in dire need. Other times she would use her power to see what lay ahead for some and help guide them onto a better path. Still others she would look back over a person's life to help them remember important things. But after a few centuries, her ability to define past, present and future began to blur. Patterns began appearing to her that would define how certain people would react, despite her help.

As more time passed, she began to grow disinterested and disconnected. Perhaps she had cared too much? Did she not care enough? It all felt monotonous as fewer and fewer people sought her help or acknowledged her existence. Soon she began shirking her duties to the point of near non-existence. The few prayers of people from the surface for protection of their children went unanswered and time passed her by quietly.

She began to wonder what would happen if she were to simply disappear? He brothers seemed to be doing well and were loved by the people. But she? It almost seemed that she had nearly faded into myth as only a handful of people still believed and worshiped her with any hint of sincerity.

The massive surge of power jolted her from the pit she had collapsed into. When she extended her mind to the surface, she could hardly recognize the world. Yes, the place she had come to before was originally dimmer than most of the world, but as she followed Dane to see what had become of the world, she could hardly believe her eyes. What had happened? The world she saw was so much colder and unloving than the one she remembered. Had it really been so long since she truly cared?

She wanted to help, but she was so out of touch with the state of the world she had no idea how. Her best option would be to follow the man she had seen in the city called Margata. Doing so would allow her to learn much of what humanity had become, and how best to help them. As she Dane would work, she was moved by his compassion.

In times when he would tend to someone who had a particularly strong illness, she reached to Dane's hand and strengthened his magic. She also amplified his magic as well when he would build barriers around town and cities.

For all that he did, she found a stirring in her heart, one that she had never felt. Yes, she had felt love towards the people of Usoria, but this was different. She felt a longing to be with this one human. She knew this human would be gone within a few short decades, but she longed to be with him. Even she began to refer to him as 'The White Mage'.

As the days and weeks passed and she continued to help him, he began to smile sometimes. But there was still a quiet sadness to those smiles. When he was alone she would come to him, putting her arms around his shoulders and read the journal he would often look into. It consisted of notes that described Darkness, Light, and their Ultimate forms. Fascinating concepts for a human to be looking into. Perhaps she would speak to Nanahuatzin sometime about the subject and gain some insight as to why it was so fascinating to Dane. There was also a second book that he would consult from time to time, but this one was different. It didn't look like it belonged in this time. She couldn't put her finger on it but it was there.

"My light. My ultimate light is gone." Dane whispered to himself one day. His acts gave him insight to the cause of the famine: Darkness within the world was becoming stronger. It still didn't help with the gnawing loneliness. Women still came to him as they always had, talking with flirtatious tones making him feel all the lonelier. And still that presence lingered. Was he going mad? The amount of sorrow he was surrounded by on a daily basis might be diminishing his own light and pulling him farther in than he wanted. Had his light turned inward and began absorbing the Darkness around him?

As he traveled, his abilities of healing people that were on the brink of death began to gain him worldwide recognition. Dane as well began to notice that his magical abilities were stronger than before. Some even began calling him a saint in addition to his title of 'White Mage'. The recognition did stay some of his loneliness, but all the same he couldn't find the strength to genuinely smile. And then it occurred to him: if the Ultimate Light was the strongest when two people with outward directed light shared it with each other, then perhaps all he needed was to seek out another. Someone like Menodora whose light was always directed outward.

"Yes! That has to be it! If I do that outward light, perhaps then it will not only allow me to see a way to heal this land, but also to heal myself as well!" his thoughts raced when he found time to be alone after a long day's duty and seek out women with this trait. There would be those he thought he saw a small part of Menodora in, and desperately waited for that person to become her. However, it would only lead himself and others to be hurt all the more ultimately further diminishing what little of Menodora's light was left. Most, if not all only carried with them in the inward facing light.

"Perhaps if I cannot find Light to strengthen my own, then perhaps I will seek out the Darkness and Light will come to me." Rumors of a dark and shadowed land, known as the Forest of Peace were sometimes heard as he sought out love. Upon searching out this forest, he found it to be on the far south east corner of Usoria, three days journey past the eastern most part of the East Dragon Forest.

"That is where I must go; Darkness is Darkness." He thought. But what would it accomplish? What would be his reason for traveling so far east? There were no villages, no towns, not even the forest village of Lefra was there any longer. All the same, he searched for it. Perhaps, if he could study Darkness in a place of Darkness, he would understand how to rid himself of it. As he sat plotting the Forest's location in his journal one evening, a Cleric of Ariel came wondering into his camp.

"You wouldn't happen to be The White Mage would you, young man?" the aging Cleric asked, heavily leaning against his well weathered staff.

"I am he. Sit Fatri, ease your feet." Dane instructed as the cleric came as sat on a nearby rock.

"Oh, thank you Saint White."

"Dane, Fatri. There is no need to call me by such lofty titles."

"Oh, but your power and willingness to help has well-earned you that title."

"Even so, I feel as though I do not deserve it. I have done all that I can and yet there seems to be no end to this wretched famine. What more can I do?" Dane questioned, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Have you considered asking the three Deities for help? Perhaps even the Great Mother Minerna?" the old man asked, his bushy eyebrows lifting slightly revealing his dark, wise eyes.

"The thought has crossed my mind. But none of them are my patron. I doubt that any of them would answer my prayers Fatri." Dane grunted, staring blankly into the fire as the sun's light slowly faded away into night. The old man laughed slowly, his smile making his thick white mustache pull upward almost to his eyes.

"Perhaps then you are in need of a pilgrimage." The old man looked around a bit.

"Hmmm, where are we…"

"Arentia, Fatri." Dane smiled, wondering if he would be like this old man one day.

"Ah yes. There is a great tree in the Victarani province far north of here. I have never been that far north myself, as I am from the Al Neth in the north west region. I doubt these old legs could carry me that far now anyway. Seek out that tree: it is said that it is the footstool of Haim, Deity of Life."

"And what am I to do when I reach this tree? Beg for his help? Or seek out some object that will end this famine, bringing it to him as an offering?" Dane scoffed, knowing that deep down he wanted to believe that deities did exist.

"I doubt that he would be so callous as that. It couldn't hurt could it? You might even find something that will cure this land once and for all." The old man smiled, leaning against his staff and promptly falling asleep. Dane grinned, helping the man to the ground to sleep and putting his blanket over him.

"Victarani. Perhaps I will travel there. But first, I must pay a visit to my grandfather in Azwan." During his three-year tour to study magic, Dane often visited Azwan to consult with his grandfather Vusron. In addition to becoming friends, Vusron would also become one of Dane's many masters in magic. Perhaps he would have some insights that Dane had missed.

Four days passed before Dane arrived to the front gate of the buried city. It had been some time since his last visit, so much in fact that sand nearly buried the cobblestone road leading in. A low buzz coming from the great obelisk at the front of the city made his ears tickle as he passed. The sound emanating from it however was strange making Dane pause. It was almost as if the power within it was on the brink of release. Shaking his head, he turned back to the front gate where a well-dressed guard came and stood in his path.

"We don't get many visitors to the city of Azwan. May I ask the reason for your visit?" the man asked. Dane looked the guard over, noting that he didn't have a trace of darkness surrounding him, nor any light for that matter. Looking past the guard, he could see that others within the city as well had little to no Darkness or Light following them.

"I have come seeking counsel with Vusron." Dane answered, looking past the guard once again, puzzled by the lack of Darkness that surrounded each person. Was there something that he was missing? Or was there something that these people were doing that kept the darkness of the world at bay? Could it be that they exuded outward light was so strongly that he couldn't sense it?

"Vusron? Grand Shaman Vusron? Is he expecting you?" the guard asked, almost seeming to be in shock.

"Yes, the very same. Is there something wrong?" Dane inquired, noting that the guard's demeanor seemed forced.

"I'm sorry to say that he is no longer available to speak with anyone of the public or travelers as his time is taken up with managing the power of the Great Obelisk." Dane narrowed his eyes, looking back over his shoulder.

"Does not Azwan train Shaman for that very task?" He asked. During the many occasion he had visited, he would often see troupes of Shaman being led through the halls. When he inquired about them he was told they were specially trained Shaman for maintaining the power of the obelisk.

"I'm sorry but that is all that I am allowed to tell someone who is not a shaman of Azwan." The guard replied. Narrowing his eyes slightly more and turning his head, Dane thought what of what his next path should be. He was still a few days journey from Arentia and his supplies were running low. Perhaps if he were to enter the city itself he could use the opportunity to steal away and search for Vusron.

"Then may I be permitted to enter to buy supplies? I am embarking on a long journey and my current supplies are quite low." The guard said nothing momentarily, seeming frozen in place until his expression lightened and stepped aside, holding out his arm for him to enter.

"By all means. The market is near the center of the city. If you get lost I'm sure that you can ask anyone here and they would be happy to guide you." Dane nodded his thanks and stepped through the gate making mental note of the strange hesitation of the Guard.

A long stairway led deep underground to a massive hollowed out pocket of earth. Stone made up grand viaducts, pillars, palaces and homes that all comfortably crowded the outer edges of the pocket. Wide dirt roads lead down to the very center where a massive but lively market sat. Roads spread out in all directions like veins connecting every part of the city efficiently. As he mingled with the people, he couldn't help but notice that there were very few Shaman among them. During his visits to Azwan, he came to know that it was known for their powerful shamans. Vusron told stories of how the streets would nearly be split evenly between civilians and shaman walking them. But in the city that Dane saw there was not a shaman among them save for maybe one or two.

"Excuse me, but where are the Shaman? I've heard that this city was well known for them." He asked a grocer as he packed his knapsack.

"That is something that I too would like to know. About two years ago there was a sharp decline in the number of Shamans being trained due to all the Grand Masters mysteriously dying within a short amount of time. It is all quite strange." Dane lowered his brow and pursed his lips. There was something else at work here. Yes, it was rather refreshing to see the lack of Darkness here, but it was the lack of Light that concerned him, both of which seemed forced somehow.

Dane decided he would stay for a short while and study the city. He noted almost immediately that indeed the absence of Light and Dark was forced. As to the cause was something that he couldn't ascertain. Dane rested for lunch and began reading over the notes he had taken when he looked up.

He spotted a young shamaness standing among the crowd surrounded by three guards and an attendant. Her golden-brown eyes and fire red hair made her stand out immensely. Her stare lingered on him for a while before she leaned down and said something to her attendant and left. The attendant bowed and quickly made her way through the crowd directly for Dane.

He tensed, but kept his eyes focused on the attendant. He noted that as she weaved through the people, none of them really seemed to be aware of her but moved around her none the less. Dane half turned his gaze down, scribbling something in his journal before the attendant was upon him.

"Excuse me Sir. My lady, Grand Master Hilda, asks for a word with you." Dane shut his journal, tucking it within his bag and sat back as he reached for the cup of drink he had.

"Is there something wrong?" Dane asked in return, his stare burning through her over his cup. The woman seemed to falter, her hand twitching as though signaling to someone off to the side to stay put.

"No, nothing of the sort. Are you not The White Mage?" she asked. Dane narrowed his eyes slightly before setting his cup down, spinning it slightly on its plate; he hadn't told anyone that name in the city so how was it that she knew who he was?

"I am. But what would Hilda want with a lowly cleric such as myself?"

"That is something that I don't know. I am sure my lady is eager to meet you so if you would follow me please." She asked, holding out her hand. Dane was unsure of what this would reveal, but there was only so much he could do to resist someone of high standing. He was, as he put it after all, a lowly cleric. The attendant led him through the city towards one of the buildings that more closely resembled a palace made of earth tone stone. With each hall they passed, Dane noted that all the guard's eyes seemed distant and clouded. Additionally, there was a musty stench that hung in the air mostly masked by the heavy scent of dust. Upon entering a grand room, Dane instantly felt a change: Darkness was thick in here. It was almost overwhelming.

"Thank you for coming Master White Mage. Your name has spread quite a long way and I feel very honored to be meeting you face to face." Hilda said, half sitting on the fine desk on the far end of the room, crossing her legs with a sensuous positioning.

"It is flattering to be known so widely, but as I told you attendant I am but a lowly cleric." Dane repeated, holding his arms wide in a bow. Hilda chuckled under her breath and picked up her weight, holding out her hand as her staff floated to it.

"Now now, there is no need to be so modest. There are stories of you bringing someone back to full health from the brink of death." Hilda cooed as she circled Dane, admiring his physique and long snow-white hair. The hip high splits of her skirt made her legs appear longer than they were; a distracting sight for Dane.

"I'm sure that with some study, such an ability could be powerful enough to overcome death itself. Even, prevent it all together." Dane narrowed his eyes.

"Are you speaking of immortality?" Hilda smiled and tapped his nose with a slender finger.

"Precisely." Dane's face remained hard as he locked eyes with hers. Despite her title of Shamaness, her clothes were far more revealing than her attendant's, almost erotic. From what he remembered of the Shamans, they all wore somewhat modest clothes.

"Such dreams are not meant to be. I have seen what such thoughts bring and it cost me and many others from Margata dearly. What you speak of is simply not possible."

"Oh, but it is." She teased, walking back to her desk and pulling from it a bottle containing a swirling pink liquid.

"With this I have gained my youth and beauty for as long as I am alive. While this potion revitalizes my youth thus extending my life by a substantial amount, the fact still remains that I will die one day. With your power, I am sure that both you and I could find a way." Hilda prodded, setting the bottle down softly on the desk. Dane, intrigued, walked to the desk and picked up the bottle, turning it this way and that watching the liquid inside swirl.

"What did you distil this from?" Dane demanded, looking up at her from under his brow. Hilda smirked and walked behind him, leveling her red lips to his ear.

"This is the extracted youth and Life Force of everyone in Azwan." She whispered. Dane's eyes widened and set the bottle down. Turning around, he watched the guards at the door fade to nothing but bones.

"You used the people of this city to gain such a fleeting thing as youth and beauty?" Dane growled, his hand tensing hard.

"Why not? The only thing I ever received from them was heart break when they condemned me for killing the King. That was a lie of course, but since the King's affections were constantly on me, I was the automatic choice for the murderer. So why not use them?"

"Because those you used are more than likely innocent of that." Hilda's smile faded as she slammed down her staff hard on the ground, power spreading out from it and rushing past Dane.

"You don't understand. It isn't the people that betrayed me, it was the city. But since stone and earth has no life to use, its people are the next best thing!" Dane growled, lowering his hands after using them to erect a barrier spell.

"What about Master Vusron?" Dane demanded as Hilda laughed darkly.

"Him? That old man caught onto what I was planning in its infancy. But his duty to keep the power of Azwan in check grew after the unfortunate death of the other Masters and Grand Masters. He has been busy enough to stay out of my way." Dane felt his face grow hot as blood rushed to his cheeks.

"You witch." Dane growled, fire flaring to life within his hands. Hilda held her staff forward and summoned her pet to her side; a dark creature with glowing white eyes and gold decorated horns.

"Blackheart, be a dear and dispose of this pest for me." Hilda smiled. The creature growled, black flames licking at its lips as it charged. Dane crossed his arms summoning a barrier, watching it crack under Blackheart's force. Dane readied to retaliate but Blackheart forced his way through what remained of the barrier. Dane's arm burned as a backlash of magic surged through it, only to be trampled to the ground and pinned.

Dane grit his teeth, teleporting a short distance away, fizzling electricity engulfing Blackheart in a white light. The ground shook with its power, melting part of the floor away and staining some with spots of soot. Dane stared at his hands in awe for a moment: his Lightning Charge had never been that strong. Not even some of the most powerful of his masters came close to cast the spell as powerful as that.

His gawking blinding him to Blackheart charging him once again from the air as he had sprouted wings. Again, Blackheart pinned Dane to the ground, flames building in the back of his throat. Dane teleported away, having to cross his arms when a flood of flames surrounded him. Again, Dane tried to counter but stopped when he realized the spell might be overpowered. He didn't want to needlessly injure people with power beyond his control.

Blackheart snarled charging through the smoke that lingered, swiping at him with his long claws. Dane ducked, but was met with Blackheart's second fore leg and sent bouncing across the floor slamming into the railing overlooking the city. Hilda held up her hand, halting Blackheart just before unleashing a billow of black and purple flames.

"Do you understand now White Mage? If you could find how to make us immortal, our power would be unstoppable." Hilda smiled. Dane struggled to his feet and looked out over the city; everyone that had been there a few moments before were nothing but well-dressed skeletons. A blast of flames billowed from Dane's hands when Blackheart leapt through them and pinned him. He tried to teleport away but something was preventing him from doing so.

"I told you, such a thing is impossible! And even if it were, someone like you wouldn't be worthy of it." Dane growled struggling to pull free. Hilda walked over to him, crouching down while supporting her chin with her palm.

"Then there is no need for you. As famous as you are if you won't give me what I want then I'll find someone who will." She chuckled. Dane locked gazes with her, recognizing one of the four ways Darkness manifest itself in people's heart. Hilda's had become the worst: a festering well of pain. Dane thought that there might be some way of helping people like this, bring them back from the Darkness swallowing them by exposing them to enough Light. But after seeing up close what such Darkness looked like, he guessed such healing would be impoosible.

"Blackheart, you may dispose of him when you please." Hilda called over her shoulder. Blackheart breathed in deeply, violet flames gathering on his tongue lapping at his lips. Dane struggled to get free, trying to pull his arms from under the creature's weight. As the flame's light brightened, his struggle became more desperate. Teleporting rifts would collapse as soon as he tried to use it, and his spells wouldn't form: his mind was too afraid to concentrate. Just as the light was at its brightest, something caught his eye kneeling next to him. It was only for a moment but the light caught the silhouette of a woman reaching down for him.

"Menodora?!" When the light engulfed him hot flames licked at his face. On instinct he screamed until he felt himself drop onto the warm sand not far from Arentia. He bolted upright, looking all around him trying to gather his barring.

"Who was it that reached for me? Was it indeed Menodora?" he thought. As he went over the image in his mind, he began to see that it wasn't his beloved. Her hair was much too long with a crown that sat in the middle of it, and her dress fit to her body being folded over at the top around her shoulders.

"Could it be the presence that has been following me all this time?" Dane thought. Grave implications began to come to mind when he thought that it was the spirit of some girl that he and Menodora had visited when she was alive. But that raised even more questions: was this all because of the Darkness within the world? What of his grandfather? What of Azwan? How did Hilda command enough power to control an entire city of the undead? All of it required further study.

"But first, I must procure a staff for myself." Dane scolded. He had been told numerous times by his masters and fellow clerics that it would be in his best interest to get a staff to focus his great power. But he never thought much of it. Hilda had shown him by simply summoning a creature that his magic without said focus would not be enough. Traveling into Arentia, he was reminded just how thankful he was for this presence that followed him. It was because of that presence that he didn't become what Hilda had: a festering wound of pain.

"I must return to Azwan once I have a staff." He thought, turning his thoughts once again to his grandfather Vusron. If nothing else, he must rescue him. Facing Hilda or her army of the undead would be a challenge if she became involved, so he would need to be swift and precise. He may be powerful, but even he had his limits. His limit would be facing Hilda alone, and he was sure that she wouldn't fight him alone.