Author's Note - We are officially into the second of three parts, and i am officially to the end of what i had planned. Updates will be slow, and not as well planned as before. I will do my best not to disappoint you all!

Disclaimer - I own nothing. Well... I own my socks, but that's about it. The Underland Chronicles belongs to Suzanne Collins, and if you haven't already, you should go read the Hunger Games Trilogy as well. If the fantastic authoress herself should ever stumble upon this, she is welcome to it. Any part or whole of this story is hers for the taking, cause i'd love to see a sixth book.

Part 2 - The Darkness

Chapter 10 - Darkness

"That's twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag." - Eliot Spencer

I wonder, will you believe my words? My visions become more shrouded and uncertain, the farther I see, and at the moment you are reading this, they are all but shadows and mist. But there are things I must tell you regardless. There is a darkness coming that threatens to destroy everything you and I hold dear. You must be ready when it arrives. You must be waiting for it at the gates of hell with our sword in hand, ready to drive it back into the deepest pits of the eternal fire.

I don't remember when I gained the gift of prophecy. I know that I was young, and I know that it took me years to understand that I had a power no one else had. And it took me even longer to decide how to use it. Learning to trust a gift that you didn't ask for is a challenge that I know you can understand better than most.

My first vision was of an awe inspiring city, the likes of which has never been seen on this earth. I saw a civilization living in peace with technology carved from the rocks far more advanced than anything I had seen crafted from wood. It was my inspiration to become a stone mason. I pursued my goal with a passion and determination that my peers found daunting, and my superiors found promising.

I surpassed my master after only a year as his apprentice where no one else had mastered the art in less than three. I could easily have driven my teacher out of business with my skills, but out of gratitude for helping me achieve my dream, I worked side by side with him for the remainder of his career. In the end, he left his business to me.

I took on and trained several apprentices, and they all became very successful, and at the age of twenty-five, I was already considering passing the majority of my business on to one of my students. You see, my visions had been becoming more and more disturbing and vivid for years, until without warning, they became unintelligible. Nothing but writhing shadows.

It was then that I knew the city I had seen was no more. It had been destroyed in the darkness. My visions changed after that. I saw earth ruined. The shadows which destroyed the great city of my dreams had overtaken the world. I knew I had to do something to prevent this, but I was at a loss. I consulted a friend and told him very vaguely of my concern.

He thought me mad at first, but after some demonstrations of the reliability of my visions, he too shared my concern. He suggested we look into moving beneath the ground. We could build a new civilization under the earth, and from there, we would survive the coming darkness. I knew from the beginning that this was not something we could just hide from, but I knew this was a step in the right direction.

My visions showed me a man, holding a magnificent, jagged blade, standing against the tide of darkness. Every night I learned more about this mysterious warrior. I learned that he was the oldest of three children. I learned that he was the king of an underland city I was yet to create. And most importantly, I learned that he was no ordinary warrior.

In his time, he was called a rager. A warrior like no other. I saw him battle in my visions. I saw a boy become a man. I saw him fly into war on the back of a bat, and I saw him learn to control his skills at the hand of a rat. The things I saw shocked and surprised me to no end. A whole world, that I was yet to uncover.

During this time, we were making preparations to make our first expedition underground. We had a group of about 800 men and women who were willing to make a bet on my vision. I think, deep down, they could feel the darkness coming as well.

I knew it was destined to be a lengthy and painful venture to move so many underground. My friend and I decided on a course of action to increase our chances. On the day they began the fifty year endeavor to create a civilization under the earth, my friend and I parted ways. I left him with a notebook of my visions and instructions, and even my name.

Perhaps it was wrong of me to mislead them. But I already knew he would follow my directions, so it was no different than if I had done it myself. Only now, I could be somewhere else at the same time. In the planning stages of our journey, I had spoken to many natives of the land and discovered that they knew of this underland.

More importantly, they knew of the city I had seen as a child. As far as they knew, it had been abandoned for many centuries. None of them dared live there. They believed it was cursed. In retrospect, I should have believed them. When I first saw the city with my own eyes, I could not believe that my dream had not done it justice.

I spent weeks exploring the city and surrounding areas. I returned above ground every few days to replenish food and fuel, but otherwise, I stayed underground. I read the stories carved into the streets. They were a tapestry of languages, some I knew and many more that I didn't. I studied the various crystal houses, their colors, shapes, and sizes.

The forest held a great fascination to me. It echoed in my heart the feeling of longing I felt for my home, mixed with the resolve that it would live on in my memory and in legend. I began finding secret doors on my third week. I was considered by many to be a master stone worker, specifically in the field of moving parts, but the devices here were far beyond anything I had imagined possible.

It took me twenty years to satisfy myself that I had unlocked every secret of the city. What I had found was unnerving. They had been a race of warriors driven underground by a shadow that threatened to overrun the world. They knew so little about it. They called it the messenger of death. Whatever it was, it had originated in a distant corner of the underland and risen to the surface when the people had opened a door into the earth.

They had fled to this place, believing they would be safe. They had been wrong. But it seemed, someone among them had planned for their demise and used it to strike back against the darkness. The records I found called him only the gatekeeper. He tricked the shadows into a trap that locked both his people and the darkness away forever.

Or that was the plan, anyway. Unfortunately, plans go awry. He was unable to finish the trap, and eventually, the darkness would escape and begin its reign upon the world again. Now alone, he began preparations for the day when the darkness returned. He had the visions as well, and I have found evidence pointing towards a startling fact.

I am his decendant. I found a sword he forged for the warrior that would decide the future of our world. I carried it from that day until I left on my final journey. I found his own journals. Prophecies and visions. I learned his art of hiding his meaning so that it would not do more harm than good. His puzzles were crafted on a grand scale, for the sake of the world, not just for those who would be instrumental in its salvation or downfall.

I left the city with a heart full of hope and dread. I spent my last years working on the new city of Regalia. I continued my ancestor's work, building the safeguards of our future into every stone. Eventually, I locked myself in a room and began recording my visions in the style I had learned from him, hoping that it would be enough to guide future generations along the right path.

There was one last secret I learned of the warrior. Among the people who had been responsible for the release and capture of this terrible darkness, they held legends of great warriors throughout their history who they called "chosen by death". They used the scythe as a symbol for death. I know this symbol retains its meaning to the moment you are reading this.

These warriors, chosen by death, were unbeatable in battle. They were honored and feared any time one was found. They say the effect was not unique to humans, but it was by far the most powerful in them. They knew it developed in stages. The first stage, the warrior could not control their ability. They acted on instinct.

The second stage, they gained control over it and could harness it for their own uses. The third stage was the stage that filled their people with fear. In the third stage of those chosen by death, they began to develop powers beyond their fighting skills. Little was known about this legend. Few of the chosen lived that long, and it only occurred in humans.

But this warrior, who I see standing as the last defense between the oncoming storm and the people of earth, is one of those chosen by death. He will enter the third stage of his abilities at the age of seventeen. And when he speaks to the messenger of death and learns the true name of his kind, his decision will save or destroy all that I have worked for.

You are the warrior.

The gatekeeper released the shadows and bound them again. He laid down the first lines of defense for the future. I have followed in his footsteps. In your time, the peacemaker will do his part to unite the light against the darkness that is coming. But in the end, it is you, Warrior, who will stand or fall.

The blade you carry is broken. But it is complete. I am running out of time. My friend is waiting for me. I am trusting you. The remainder of this book contains little scraps of information that I was never able to piece together. I wish you the best of luck. My time is ending.

Fly you high, Warrior.

"Gregor? Are you alright?" Luxa said, looking down at her husband with concern.

They had returned from their journey only days ago, but it felt like the whole ordeal was a distant memory now. He shook his head and smiled reassuringly up at her.

"I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind." She patted his shoulder. His bond was still confined to the hospital, so his days had become a cycle of visiting the flyer for hours at a time and trying to keep up with his other duties.

He and Luxa were now full rulers of Regalia. The council had been disbanded, and the people were in relatively high spirits. They had a great deal of confidence in their new leaders. The alliance with the gnawers was becoming more solid by the day, and Ripred had even managed to negotiate peace between the gnawers and the nibblers.

Life was beginning to resemble normal. If nothing else, it was becoming routine and structured enough to be comforting. Every morning, Gregor would eat breakfast with Luxa. Afterward, she would go to the high hall to deal with the matters brought before her, and Gregor would go to the hospital to talk to his bond.

After a few hours, he would go to the training fields and help his old friend teach the younger teens various skills. That lasted two hours, and after that he would have lunch in the high hall with his wife and family. Next, he would proceed to his own training with his sister Lizzy and his old mentor Ripred.

Lizzy had become, of all things, an expert with a slingshot. Ripred had insisted, despite her mother's protests, that she must be able to defend herself. They had come to this compromise when Lizzy suggested the equivalent to a stone age tazer.

She could now put one of the wax blood-balls between any target's eyes at 30 yards, even if it was moving. She practiced daily, by ambushing her bond and her brother. The two ragers benefited as well. Their awareness of their surroundings, their reaction speed, and their self control improved rapidly.

Lizzy also began learning various other skills from Ripred. She was slowly picking up echolocation, although no one would allow her to lock herself in a dungeon for a week, which is what she wanted. She studied various languages with Hazard, when he wasn't acting as Howard's apprentice in the hospital.

The most remarkable change of all was in Nerissa. As soon as the group had returned from their journey, her health and mental stability had begun improving. She started eating regular meals, and even attending some mild physical training with Lizzy.

She told them her visions had stopped, and without them plaguing her, she was just like any other girl. It would take a while for her to look truly healthy, but she was getting a little better every day.

As was his bond. They still were a little fuzzy on exactly what had happened. After the battle with the Bane, Ares remembered he had been mortally wounded, and also remembered that Gregor had been as well.

"I saw the Bane rip open your chest, Gregor. You were dying as fast as I was. There is no way you could have survived that any more than I could have survived my throat being torn out. I could see your ribs." That had shocked more than a few of the listeners. They began going back over the prophecies.

". . . OUR LIFE AND DEATH ARE ONE WE TWO."

HAS NEVER BEFORE RUNG SO TRUE.

"In the battle, we were both mortally wounded. We were killed together. But somehow, we both survived. Our life and death seem inseparable from each other." Gregor recited the next lines.

THE WARRIOR, STRONG, HAS BEEN MADE WEAK.

OF WHAT KILLED HIM, HE CANNOT SPEAK.

"I couldn't even bring myself to say his name after I left the underland. Or even after I returned. His death was what killed the warrior." Gregor looked up at his bond with a grin on his face.

THE DEAD MUST RISE, TO FIGHT THE DEAD,

OR ALL THIS LAND WILL BE MADE RED.

"The Bane. The dead warrior must rise to fight the dead Bane, or he will kill everyone. That one is pretty straight forward now." Ripred spoke up.

THE PATH OF WAR WILL SHOW THE WAY,

FOR LOST LIGHTS TO SHINE THIS DAY.

"We followed the 'Path of War' and found both the Bane and Ares, which seems to have brought Gregor back to life. Brought his lost light back, in a way." Twitchtip contributed.

THE END IN SIGHT, A GHOST OF THE PAST,

WILL RAISE THE DEAD SO PEACE MIGHT LAST.

"Ares and the Bane could both be the ghost of the past, but the result is the same. They resurrected the warrior, so peace will last." Luxa held Gregor's hand as they continued.

THE WARRIOR'S HEART, ONCE LOST TO ALL,

WILL BEAT AGAIN AT DESTINY'S CALL.

"That one is pretty straight forward too." Ripred stretched and yawned. "Lets hurry up and get through the other one before we head home." They went through the prophesy, filling in the obvious blanks, and finally ended with:

WHEN THIS IS FINISHED, TWO ROSE FROM THE GRAVE.

SWIFT DEATH ON WINGS AND THE ONE HE DIED TO SAVE.

"Ares and the Warrior have returned from the dead. Now, lets head home." Aurora had been in a bubbly mood since her mate had returned. Surprisingly, she didn't seem as shocked as the others. Perhaps the joy just outweighed any disbelief she felt.

"Oh! Six will go, though five are called, and seven will return!" Gregor looked at Luxa and grinned.

"Yeah, you're right! Did Nerissa know about this, do you think?" Luxa giggled.

"I have no idea. But at least we know who she meant now!"

They had a theory about what had happened. After he had lost consciousness, Ares had awoken in the pool of blood to find Gregor missing, and assumed he had been taken away for a proper burial. Knowing he would be killed for letting his bond die a second time, he had fled off into the tunnels and soon became very lost. He'd been living out there ever since.

The theory was, that it was the Bane's blood. Both Gregor and Ares had been drenched in it, including their wounds. In the prophecy room, chiseled in between a couple of larger prophecies, there was a short two line poem.

RED FROM WHITE CAN BRING BACK LIGHT

They were skeptical, but for lack of a better explanation, they accepted it as the most likely possibility and went about their lives. Ares was in bad shape, upon closer inspection. He was malnourished, dehydrated, and he was covered with scratches, fleas, and ash that matted his fur and blistered his skin.

They said he could be out of the hospital in three weeks. He was not happy. He'd been reunited with his bond and friends and wanted nothing more than to spend every day with them. But instead, he stayed were he was confined and made due with daily visits.

Ripred's spies kept them informed about the Bane's movements. He had sent a few trusted rats to infiltrate his army. It looked like they had a couple of months before the Bane would attack, and this time, they were confident they would win. Especially after a certain discovery they had made.

After they had slept, gone over the prophecies, and prepared to head out, Twitchtip informed them that the Bane's forces were camped in the tunnel below and that they would need a distraction in order to make it out.

"I think perhaps Gregor and I can handle that. It has been a while since I had the pleasure of flying as a whole, and I owe them for killing us both." Ares had stretched his magnificent wings and taken off, Gregor riding on his back with sword in hand.

"Let's show them who they're messing with Ares!"

"I agree!" The flyer dived into the flock of stunned rats like a giant black arrow. Gregor's sword made contact several times, but it was the bat that made the rats quiver in fear. They knew the Warrior was formidible, but they had never fought a truly enraged flyer, much less one so huge.

Ares latched onto one medium sized gnawer and launched into the air, flying at top speed and releasing it at the last moment. The rat's momentum carried it on a short trip into three other gnawers and then a very unforgiving stone wall. The rats rushed the flying pair, but met with claws.

"Hold on!" Ares said, and flapped his wings in a complicated pattern, spinning them at a high speed for a few moments. When he stopped, the rats had backed away and Gregor was a bit dizzy. "I learned that trick from you."

"Ares, you're a rager." Gregor said it as if he had know it all along. It felt like the most obvious thing in the world.

"No, i'm definitely not." Gregor grinned.

"Yeah, you definitely are. We'll ask Twitchtip."

"Very well."

After they had returned, Twitchtip had confirmed Gregor's suspicions. Ripred seemed to be less than thrilled he had yet another trainee.

With three ragers on their side, along with all the humans, flyers, crawlers, and a hefty majority of the gnawers, the Bane didn't stand a chance.

So much had happened in the short time since Gregor had returned to the Underland, it was unbelievable, and now there was a war coming. But it was far from the most worrisome thing on his mind.

Sandwich's journal. The coming darkness. It made his blood run cold. He hadn't told anyone yet. Not even Ripred, who he suspected already knew something, especially with his reaction to Atlantis.

He had some time. He had another six months before he turned seventeen. He'd cross that bridge after he killed the Bane.

Part two will alternate between bits of Sandwich's diary to pieces of the current story.

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