Charging into a fortified enemy position was by no means the best idea I ever had. Though it was a hastily fortified and the men inside were weak amassed firepower had a nasty habit of bringing down anyone in time unless they were Warlords. On one battlefield my Lady had taken a blast from an orbiting capital ship, then the combined firepower of an Iron Knight Legion without moving an inch. Though we were dying around her, she was an unwavering beacon of strength that no mortal or weapon of mere mortals could fell.

That had been a rare battle where My Lady had come to fight for reasons that I couldn't fathom. The way she thought was as alien to me as a Returner. Once, while I stood guard, I heard her explain to some high ranking court noble the nature of dimensional travel that allowed for combat within the dimensional sea. The terms she had used were foreign even to me, terms like 'crystalline membrane fold', 'Razor supercell mechanical theory' and 'quasar-echo string resonance along the Cather space-entropy substructure'. The discrete inquires I had made into those objects had turned up nothing. All the scientists, researchers and other experts I had talked to knew nothing of the topics my Lady mentioned of. I was left to wonder what knowledge my Lady held, but never shared. I liked to imagine they were secrets that the mortal mind couldn't comprehend and she guarded them to save out lesser minds.

Rufus laid down cover fire with the fury and power of ten men. Accelerated shards of explosive metal encased in a magical barrier and boosted to speeds beyond mortal comprehension smashed into the Guardsmen. There makeshift barrier began to falter as the shards exploded. Those unlucky Guardsmen who took a shot were doomed. The explosive shard had a two second denotation fuse upon impact. It wasn't the blast that killed, it was the impact and the blood lost. Not even the greatest healers could save an arm claimed by a Devil's Shard.

That bald headed sergeant commanded his men with remarkable calm in spite of deadly rain of shards. I smirked as I prepared to unleash my spells, I might be a mage, but I loved melee combat more. The rush from facing another in hand to hand combat, seeing the sweat on their brow and their eyes as you ran your blade into their gut. The sergeant's blood called to me. I wanted to spill it so bad! "The commander is mine!" I snapped loudly. "Slaughter the rest!" I unleashed my first spell. "Devil's Boon!"

I felt the surge of power in my body. I was stronger than any mortal, yet this was another level of power. The nanite machines in my body began to work more as the magical energy flared across of body. Every pore of my body shone with raw magic. I could feel the raw power rip into flesh and the nanites repairing the damaged flesh as they fed off the raw magic.

To the regular men it would appear as if I vanished in a blur. The Flash Step threw me into the thick of the battle at speeds few mages could hope to match even in their prime without aid such as mine. Perhaps it was unwise to be the first one into the enemy, but I wanted that blood. I needed that blood!

My sword sang as the rest of the world seemingly moved in the slow motion. I severed a man in two with a mighty blow. The slow looking of growing horror on his face was glorious as his life blood inched out, but I didn't stay. The blade sank into flesh and body with fervor. My dance of death brought near invisible a death to them. To them I was a burst of light that heralded their death.

I claimed the helmeted head of another Guardsmen, a youth by the face. His mouth was open in horror and I swore is moved a few times as I failed it about. My enhanced strength turned that helmeted head into a blunt force instrument of death. In life he had been my enemy, in death he would be the tool to deliver blood splattered death blows to those he called comrades and friends.

Even Rufus's shards seemingly slow to me. I danced away from them with care; even I would take a good amount of damage from them. Another Guardsman fell, her head split in two. I delivered a devastating kick to another and heard the snap of vertebrae as the head slowly was whipped backwards. The nanites began to groan, a low humming that filled my body. They were at their limit. All the power and technology of many ages couldn't give them infinite life. Magic power, mana, was corrosive to the nanites, yet they feed off it. I had to end this fight. I had to get the blood of the sergeant. Why it called me, I knew not.

There he was; that bald headed man whose blood serenaded me. He was moving faster, my time was running out. The spell would end before I could finish him, but I saw no problem. To face him in real time combat would be enthralling. To take his blood in a fair fight to the death, to feast upon his blood when mixed with sweat and gore…!

I forced the nanites to last a moment longer and bent my legs. The last burst of strength surged through my body as I threw myself into the sky. The sergeant would never see me coming in the sun. A part of me hoped that one of the Daemonguard had a holorecorder on them and turned on when I killed the sergeant. Perhaps my Lady would like such a video of her enemies dying for her glory! I would hand to her myself!

Riv Prime was no friend to humanity. Vast tracts of its surface were cover in ice sheets. Glaciers covered most of the land, slowly grinding the many vast mountains to dust. The winds raged during all times of the year and the snow blanketed everything. Fierce storms could whip up at a moments notice and seal entire communities away, yet the people lived on. They adapted and lived, were others would be dead in less than a day.

Their origin was shrouded in myth and cloaked in legends. Every chief and his shaman told a different story. The truth, it any remained lay locked away beneath the ice and snow, slowly being ground away. They care not for the wider universe, even thought they knew of it. The choice to stand away from the spacefarers and their empire was one born of frozen blood. Yet they remained amicable with the spacefarers, letting their planet be used as a way point. When a large object cruised across their skies and fell deep in the mountains they felt no great obligation to help.

For the crew of the Asura death was, but a step away. Magic would protect from the ice and snow for only so long. Every mage would run out of energy in time and their magic would falter. The environmental control provide by the Barrier Jackets was powerful, but limited. Belkan Armor face the same issue as it successor. Nothing was forever; magic was no exception to that. In the end it was just another form of energy.

It was a somber party that trudged across the barren ice fields. All around them massive ice covered peaks loomed amongst storm clouds. At the head of the line, Chrono and his Enforcers made a path through the snow with staff and magic. Their heavy black uniforms made them ideal to force a path forwards. The Asura's crew followed slowly behind. They were not the marines that were the Enforcers, for their battlefield was in space behind tons of steel and magic.

It was the rearmost part of the line that Chrono often turned to watch. The prisoners of the TSAB Signum thought bitterly. It was rather humbling that her Mistress had given into such a weak organization. Fro what she had seen they were little more than basic grunts, these Enforcers. If they were meant to be trained professionals and even component soldiers then she prayed Hayate would not join them. If even half the stories she had heard were true they would try. For what she had learned the TSAB was all about second chances and most of their top officers were former rouges and lawbreakers. How such an organization had maintained itself for the last eighty years was beyond her. Her fragmented memoires brought no comparison for the TSAB, but she felt she'd had encountered or fought a similar faction in the distance past. Sometimes she wished the Book had left their memories whole, but she had little wish to see the slaughters she had committed.

~Signum?~

The wizard's voice broke through her musing. ~Yes?~ She tried to focus on the conversation. She could have increased the flow of magic heating her body, but she had no idea who long they would have to march for. Watching Chrono fumble with a map gave her little confidence. The TSAB was far too reliant on the holoscreens for everything, including navigation.

~Do this whole thing seem a little…off to you?~

She knew it was an extraordinary set of coincidences; the supernova, dropping out near Riv and having nowhere else to go, the fact that the winds starting howling even more as they left the Asura and the steadily worsening storm. ~It does seem…odd~ She was on guard and resisted the urge to set up Laevatein. At least the Enforcers had the decency to return to their Devices. It appeared at least one of them had something between their ears worthy of being called a brain. Riv was a hostile planet after all.

~Exactly, I don't know why, but I've been scanning the area since we left the ship. There's some faint traces of magic on the wind, but its shifting too much to get a good read on its location.~

Signum was silent for a moment as she thought back. She sought any memories of this planet, but the fragments were unyielding. Mere flashes and scenes were all that she had of her ancient past. The days of the Belkan Empire and its expansion were nothing but flashes of color. ~This world may have fallen under Belkan control at some point. If it did then they may have left behind some ruins or settlers. The natives might have some Belkan magic and could very well be what you've sensed. Though when you say 'you', you mean you Device? Correct?~

~Yes.~

~That is…odd. Is Azriel an Intelligent or Armed Device?~ Their course had changed. Chrono was leading them uphill now and the winds were getting fiercer. She assumed he might be trying to make for a mountain pass or the cliff faces were they might find some shelter, but her main concern was on her mistress.

~Huh… I think she's an Intelligent one, but what's the difference? Why does it matter?~

~Mainly the type of AI, but processing speed and information intake also factor in. You would have to speak with Shamal or the TSAB scientist who had our Devices.~ Signum risked a glance behind her. Zafria was in his human form with Hayate on his broad shoulders. Hayate was getting better, but her legs were far too weak to let her walk on her own. Her situation couldn't get much worse than it already was; the girl simply wasn't healthy enough to survive their march if it went on for too much longer. Magic would fail, Zafira's strength would fail, her strength would fail, Vita and Shamal didn't have the strength carry her and the Enforcers were unwillingly to render aid. Signum had seen the dirty, hate filled looks they had given Hayate and her fellow Knights on the Asura. ~Most Devices don't talk as Azriel does. She talked to the entire group when you were unconscious on the pier during the last battle. It's unnatural for an Armed device to talk in the first which I assumed she was based on her form, but only sophisticated AI are capable of complete sentences, yet she is not register in the TSAB database. What is she?~

Harry didn't respond for a long minute. The temperature was steadily falling and Signum reluctantly pumped more mana to stay somewhat warm before he responded. ~I wish I knew. I wish I knew…~

They were drawing close to the cliffs now. The clouds had descended and slowly began to cover everything. She could barely make out the shapes of the Enforcers in very front. The whole party was far too spread out with the clouds rolling in. The danger of being separated from the rest of party was growing and here separation was a death sentence to even the strongest mage. Flying would only open up the mage to the sharpest winds and clouds would conceal rocky peaks until it was too late for the mage.

The threats and dangers grew with every passing moment. A moment of weakness in a single member of their party, be it Enforcer or other, could be dangerous to Hayate. A single misstep from weariness could send her tumbling down the slope. Then there were the internal threats. The Navy mages had little respect for the Enforcers and vice versa. The wizard was a wild card, wizards always were, and Azriel was the unknown. That Device gave her pause to worry, it was another unknown that showed signs of not following it master's will.

A slow rumble reached her ears and grew louder. She looked up at the cliff they were paralleling. The rumble was getting louder and louder. The Enforcers and Navy officers paused to look up as the first boulder came over the edge and crashed down.

"Avalanche!" she cried as she grabbed Zafira and his precious cargo, pushing them against the cliff face. Her body acted automatically. She made sure to Hayate was covered by their bodies and the cliff protected her back. Protecting her mistress was her top priority even personal safety came after that. The world faded to white as panicked cries mixed with the thundering rush of snow and rock. Screams pierced though and she tried in vain to cover Hayate's ears, but the death screams reached her.

Signum saw the horrified look in Hayate's face as the screams echoed. It was inevitable that this would happen, but she would have preferred it to happen in a more controlled environment. Death was never pretty and screams of pain meant many would suffer brutal deaths. The lucky ones would be killed outright by boulders. Others would drown in snow or be left to die from the cold as they were carried away from the rest of the party. "Cover your ears!" Signum roared to the terrified girl.

To her relief Hayate did so, if slowly. Signum tried to smile, to favor her with a rare reassuring smile, but failed. She felt a rock connect with her head; she felt the world slow to a crawl. She began to sway then forced her arms to stay rigid. Protect Hayate...at all cost! Those words resounded through her head. The Book demanded nothing less of its guardians even if the link was dying.

There was nothing more she could do. Her vision was going black and unconsciousness was seconds away. With an immense effort she formed a shield around them, pumping mana into like mad, but blackness soon claimed her. The shield failed. I give you seconds…Hayatee...

Night settled over Belka. The heart of once mighty empire that had spanned the stars and universes had been broken time and time again. The buildings and monuments of old were ground to dust. Lore and weapons were lost to the slow grind of time, yet some remained. Under an orange sky, the hardy people of Belkan lived on. Their lands were ruined, blasted and shattered into a million islands. Their seas were liquid poison,empty and lifeless. Their forests were mere twigs and sticks. Their animals were few and as hardy as the people themselves. Their plains were once the mighty legions had paraded for thiir kings were gone.

Settlements were few and far between. The largest pieces of land might have two or more settlements, but in every settlement be it large or small there was a common building; a drab grey complex with a tower and several equally drab buildings, complete with a large gray wall. Each complex was a TSAB stronghold and the constant reminder to the Belkan people who lorded over them. Naturally they were the prime location to be the epicenter of civil unrest, a common occurrence that was growing.

Even as the night took over, bathing the ancient world in black, the crowds outside the TSAB complex raged. The entire settlement of Ingvault, the largest Belkan settlement in the southern half of the planet, was up in arms. At the head of crowd that raged in vain against the TSAB wall was a growing legend.

"They have taken from us everything!" the man with long silver hair roared in their native tongue. The torch in his hand reflected off the antique Belkan armor he wore. In his other hand he carried a spear, an heirloom of his family from their days of glory. "Our nation! Our magic! Our honor! Our history! All of it has been taken by these,' he gestured wildly towards the TSAB complex. "They call themselves independent from Mid-Childa, but this TSAB," he spat that name with open disgust, "is nothing more than slaves to their will! This is merely an extension of their imperialistic rule!"

The assembled crowd roared in response. Torches and antique weapons caught the light from the surrounding complex and homes. Belka had lost its moons during the Mid-Childa occupation and the nights were ever dark. The TSAB refused to let them salvage their ancestor's technology, even the basic technologies like the light rods, claiming such things were too dangerous and might inspire the wrong ideas.

"Is this what our kings wanted for us? To live like this? As slaves to tyrants? No I say! Never! Long ago my family was stood against the Traitors and fought for the kings! I, Ernust Stratos, last heir of the title of Grand Duke of Engel say never!" He raised his spear against the TSAB stronghold. It was a symbolic gesture and nothing more. There would be no violence on this night. It is far too soon…He felt a small smirk form as the crowd roared against the TSAB.

"Storm the complex! Death to the Imperialist!" one particularly enthusiastic middle aged man screamed.

Ernust shook his head. He knew it would happen sooner or later. "Silence!" he roared and they quieted. "You would have us do what then good sir?"

"Er…" The man was suddenly alone as the crowd melted away around him. He was a slightly overweight balding man Ernust recognized him as the younger brother to the local baker. "I…"

"You have no idea do you? You would start a war we're not ready to fight. You would have this mob swarm them and they would die. Yes, like you," he placed his spear carrying hand over his heart, "my blood calls for vengeance, for blood to be spilled. But that is not this day. If we rise up and win our victory will more follow? Will the TSAB fear us they once did? A temporary victory would be our gain, and overwhelming firepower would destroy us. This is a war! This complex is a trap, bait to lure us in, but will not be so easily taken! So I ask you, which do you seek? The temporary victory and a short war we will lose? Or a permanent victory that will restore our honor and prestige? Choose which you'd prefer!"

He looked to the crowd and saw confusion in their eyes. They saw only the short term, and he had forced them to consider the long term. Angry noises and hurried whispers grew in intensity as the populace debated to themselves and others. He was glad his wife had the sense to stay home on this night. Their daughter needed her mother more than ever. The little one needed all the love they could give her.

The time was drawing near for their return to power. The lines of nobility were reassembling, those who survived at least. His daughter would never inherit the title of Grand Duke of Engel, it a male title alone. She would gain her mother's title if no other successors came forward, but he still hoped for a son. Marianna was getting along in years and soon her fertility would drop to nearly zero. They had a limited window to produce the next Grand Duke and soon he would have no time to do such a deed. War and all its glory and horror would consume him. His daughter would grow up without a father; that was unavoidable. Marianna's chances of survival were higher than his, but she had already sworn to die by his side.

"I say we follow Ernust!" one of the crowd yelled.

"Yeah! He's right!"

"Belka for Stratos! Ingault for Stratos!" another cried and it quickly became a chant.

There was a certain rhythm to the chanting he loved. It made his blood sing like only the height of battle could. The rhythm, the beat of drums or voices, made him smile. His people were strong. They had been beaten and bent, but never broken. Their roots ran deep in blood and earth, tied by steel. That was the Belka of old, the Belka of lore and legend that he sought to restore. Perhaps his daughter would see that Belka in her lifetime, the true Belka.

He raised his hand for them to quiet and spoke. "I hear your words and I am overwhelmed. Many have thought our time is past. They say our era in the sun is over and we should curl up and die like a thousands empires before us. They would have become speck of history. Well, I ask those same people to look here, to this place. Can they say the same of you?" He swept his spear in a wide arc across the crowd. "They are wrong! I see no weakness in you, my kin! Our roots are in the heart of this planet, the Heart of Belka. They run deep and tough. Our blood is that of kings and conquerors, knights and nobles. Blood calls to blood even through the ages.

When they come and say 'give up your foolish fight. The future is not yours to shape' I say NO! The past is our inspiration, the gift our ancestors to aspire to. The present is temporary, it will soon be gone, but our roots hold firm where others would flake away. The future is the gift of the Kaiser, bought by blood and steel. It is the eternal gift they brought to our people, to move forward in confidence, never in fear!

Death may come; no, it will come to us! We will die fighting for the Kaiser's gift. Make no mistake, many will oppose our return! They will hate and fear us for what we were, what we did and what we will do. The TSAB, Mid-Childa and all the rest will fight us and try to keep us from reaching the Kaiser's gift. Do not let that discourage you! In death we find victory! In life we find glory! One day you will face your ancestors, kings and nobles, knights and soldier alike, and be welcomed to their table!

The day of glory and victory is not this day, this hour." He lowered his spear. Aggressive gestures would ruin the effect of his import speech. "The hour will come and all will know it! The universe will shake at the sound of our rebirth. The return is close, but not this day! I bid you leave this place. Return to your homes and tell your loved ones of this time to come. But rest assured even though no glory or victory is gained this day, we have won! We will crush oppressor and the traitor alike in time! Now go! In the name of Kaiser who was and is and is to come, I bid you sleep and gather your strength!"

The mighty roar of approval from the crowd nearly knocked him back as he tried to slip away. Several men came to congratulate him, but he waved them off as he glanced back to make sure the crowd was dispersing. A TSAB Enforcer watched him with relief evident in the young woman's eyes.

"You did as you promised," she said in the tongue of Mid-Childa as he passed.

Ernust stopped short and turned around, before addressing her in her own tongue. "I gave my word, did I not?"

"Yes, but…" the woman began hesitantly. "To think that a…"

His smile turned spiteful. "That a Belkan," he made sure to emphasize the word, "would keep his word? We are a people of honor, knights without a lord or a war to win our honor. Knights never break their word and I never will tarnish my honor. I gave you and TSAB my solemn word I would control the riots in exchange for that which was promised. The question now is will your people hold to our agreement?"

"Ah…" Fear grew in her gray eyes and the staff in her hand began to shake. She faced the Belkan many feared, the slighted Belkan armed and trained in the old arts. "I…I apologize! I didn't mean anything! It just the books and everything…"

Ernust gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She jumped slightly at the sudden contact, but to her credit didn't run. "I understand. It's the culture you were raised in. Mid-Childa hated us and still hates us to this day for the sins our ancestors. I've been to Mid and I understand, we're the monster that lurks in the night. The phantom that refuses to pass on, and lingers in the land of the living to guard its treasures. Tell your commander I will speak with him soon. We have many things that in need of doing and not nearly enough time."

"Y-yes sir!" the woman responded, as he saw the last vestiges of fear leave her. She understood his words, if only a bit, but she was a simple target. There were greater minds that he would need to convince be it by word or force of arms if Belka was to be free.

"Good girl, keep your head down and you'll survive what's to come." He quickly departed, it wouldn't do for any of the crowd saw him talking with an Enforcers. Image was everything in his position. At times he was glad they didn't have the lights streets like the old stories had spoken of.

He was an agent of the darkness. The shadows of the night protected him as he moved his people towards freedom. In the blackness he plotted and quietly rallied the selected few to his side. All was for his daughter and country. Belka would rise; he would lay the foundation of its return, even unto death and beyond. For the future of his broken people, for the glorious future he wanted his daughter to grow up in he would wash his body in blood and tear his soul apart if called to.

Ernust Stratos was on the warpath. That was the destiny he had trained for the last forty years. Forty years of shadow games were about to come into the light. The TSAB thought the Belkan Empire dead, but he knew better. They had been bent, but never broken. The drums of war sounded in the darkness as the Kaiser's Imperial Army began to muster. The Legions grew in secret in the corner bars. Knightly blood sang once more as lone wanderers gathered to form Knightly Orders in the wastelands.

Ernust looked to the sky as he walked down the street. The stars twinkled in their vast, black cradle, unaware and uncaring of the actions of mortal men. Soon they would be drenched in blood as his people were reborn and retook their rightful place. Until then he would enjoy them in this moment of peace. There was much that needed doing, but he had his family to care for first. The Kaiser Arts had to survive the war to come or all his work would be undone.

He heard what sounded faintly like frantic cries and calls, but it was all fuzzy. He felt something cold on his arm. Slowly his vision began to clear, blurry images became clearer. Harry wiped the snow off his face and let out a groan of pain as he stared at his left arm. Blood trickled down slowly from several large lacerations. The skin was already starting to bruise and his entire body ached. "The avalanche…" he mumbled as he tried to push himself up with his good limbs. "At least I'm not buried alive. I'd hate to be stuck under snow."

The sky was still cloudy, casting the world in gray, but here and there he saw lights. The magical lights reminded him of fey folk he had once seen. One of his death raids, as some in the Order had taken to calling his missions, had gone horribly wrong. The warehouse deep in the old forest had been on of Voldemort's traps. They had lost four members of the order in the explosion of volatile potion ingredients and two more fell in running duels with Death Eaters. His force had been broken apart as they sought refuge, unable to escape the anti-Apparition field Voldemort had cast over the area. It was a long, cold, and wet night filled with terror and constant paranoia. During the depths of the night he had happened upon an open glade. The Death Eaters were everywhere and swarmed the forest making crossing open ground a dangerous task, but as he watched the far side of the glade he witness an odd event.

From a small mound in the center of the glade came dozens of tiny lights of every hue. More lights emerged and they began to move to a strange rhythm. The sound of tiny drums and otherworldly instruments reached his ears as he crouched in the bushes. A slivery dust fell from the lights as they danced. Where the dust fell, he watched in awe as green grass and bright flowers bloomed. They had an ethereal glow that lit up the glade and his enemy.

Two large Death Eaters burst from the other side of the glade and paused. They hesitance was their death sentence. The dancing lights halted as a primal sound began to rise. The beating of many tiny drums filled the glade and the lights charged the Death Eaters. Vines rose up from the earth and seized their arms and legs. He recalled the popping sounds as the vines pulled the two wizards apart. He could hear the screams of agony as the lights consumed their flesh while they yet lived. The sight would never leave him, the horror and power of the fey creatures was burned into his mind forever more. A part of him wondered if the Death Eaters had ever broken free, but he was a realist. They suffered an agonizing death and probably were the lucky ones.

"Are you alive wizard?" The voice was unfamiliar, but the Enforcer uniform was unmistakable. He would accept any hand in this case and that black clad glove would be needed, he didn't trust his legs to support him yet.

"Aye," Harry croaked as he took the Enforcer's hand and pulled himself up. "You're not going to be rid of me that easily."

"I wished," the Enforcers, a young man with blond hair, said then gave a startled look. "I mean, I wished everyone was ok! Yeah, that's what I meant!"

Harry shook his head ruefully. "It's alright. You guys hate me, so don't bother trying to hide it. Besides it's annoying." Harry leaned on the boy's shoulder as they began to walk towards the gathering lights. The boy looked thoughtful as they rejoined the rest of the survivors. Lindy had those wings of her out again and the lights congregated around her then were snuffed out. The wind whipped harder and the snow began to fall faster. ~Azriel, how's the mana drain?~

~Mana is not sufficiently high for any high level magic. At the current rate you will run out within six to eight hours with the Barrier Jacket at minimum heat.~

Harry frowned at that, as he fingered Azriel's necklace. ~Remain on standby. Monitor the consumption and let me know about any changes. Any changes!~ He still wasn't sure about Azreil. They had never had a chance to talk before he had been abducted. For the time being he needed to keep her at an arms length until he could get the truth.

The survivors were more numerous than he had grist thought. The Wolkenritter and Hayate were trudging up, Lindy and the Amy girl, Nanoha, Fate, and about a dozen Enforcers. Most of the Navy mages were missing and the Enforcer's were down to less than half their original number that had been in the rear guard.

"What's the plan?" Harry yelled over the wind as he pushed his way towards Lindy and Signum. She was the highest ranking officer and it might do him good to be near her, as a potential friend or hostage.

"We can't stay here. We have to find shelter in the valley!" Signum yelled back. "You're in one piece," she said as he drew close to them. Signum had a piece of black cloth was tied around her head, indicating she had suffered a head wound of some kind, but she appeared fine on the surface.

He gave her a wry grin, but couldn't place her tone. Was she relieved or disappointed? "It'll take more than a few tons of ice and snow to kill me. Dying in that," he pointed towards the mountainside they had been swept down, "is not in my plan for my death. It involves sun for one thing and a mountain of corpses, not snow."

The swordswoman gave him an unreadable look then he saw a flash of sympathy. He would never reach his dream of death. Time would pass him by leaving him to face the eternal nights alone, even dreams would fade. Fantasies would die, leaving him without relief and never knowing rest. Harry tried not to think about it. He tried to dream and fantasize. Depression and lose would come in time, but he was determined to live for the moment, to take in all the experiences, pleasure and pain while his mind was still whole. For all he knew even death would die before him and that chilled him to the bone.

Perhaps that was why he felt a bond with the swordswoman. She had once walked the road he was on; path of the immortal, but now she was slowing rejoining the rest of life. The Hollows would never leave him, unlike the Book. He would remember his every sin that he would commit until the sheer volume of his memories broke him. Perhaps that was why he saw the flash of sympathy. Then against it probably was the nothing. The light or her wounds he told himself. Thinking what was to come was too painful, it would come in time and he would deal with it then. Now was hardly the time.

"She's right, we have to head down and find some shelter before we can tend to the wounded," Lindy said quickly. She gave the motley collection of survivors a once over and her shoulders slumped. "We've have too many wounded to risk meeting up with the others."

Harry could easily fill in what she had left unsaid. She had no idea if Chrono and the group at the head of the party were alive or bruised under tons of ice and rock. In their current state they would have no chance of climbing back up the loose slope anyway. "Alright, I'm relatively unwounded, bruised really, but I'll take the lead," he offered when he saw the concerned look on the Captain's face. She was worried about those under her command.

"Are you sure your up to it?" Lindy asked concerned for his health.

She was concerned for…him? It was an odd feeling. For so long he had to be strong at all times. The wizards had demanded it, his station had demanded it. He could give sympathy, but to the wizards he some quasi-divine messiah sent to save them from the darkness and lead them into a new golden age of magic like Merlin had. They gave him respect and reverence, but care… The life of Harry Potter was nothing to them. All that mattered was the Warsmith, Wizard General, Boy-Who-Conquered-the-Dark-Lord, Savior, and Paragon of the Light. Even those closest to him had sided with the wizards, that had hurt the most. He had no inner ciricle who cared for the person of Harry Potter. To receive such concern over a few trivial bruises gave him a…warm feeling. So long he had been cold, forced to be cold, and now he felt the first rays of spring. Perhaps being abducted by aliens was the best thing to happen to him.

"It's fine. Gather your people and lets get out of this place before it gets any colder," he said. ~Azreil, over my shoulder channel a small amount of mana into an orb about a half a meter above my shoulder.~

~As you command Master of Death.~

A jade green orb shimmered into existence as he began to tact down the slope. Mana naturally flowed from the hands and out. Only with great disciplined could a wizard or mage channel into through other body parts. Most wizards, if they stumbled upon the trick would end up with odd eyes that twinkled. Only with the aid of an outside device could a mage or wizard force the mana out and even then the locations were limited.

He carefully scanned the ground in front of him and began to walk into the freezing unknown. The faint and brief crunch of snow made him look over his shoulder. Signum was right behind him, her own orb of light out. She gave him a quick nod of assurance, she had his back. Somewhat relived, he began to walk.

It was steep going, but slowly it widened out as they reached the valley floor. The wind had shifted several times forcing them to stop and wait for the wounded. Their orb's light could be lost within the snows, but Lindy, to her credit, kept everyone together. The temperature was rapidly falling and the skies were darkening. The clouds began to dump snow on them as night fell.

Harry had been forced to increase the flow of mana to his Barrier Jacket as night fell. They couldn't go much further, he couldn't; go much further. He had led them less than two miles, yet it felt like ten times that across flat ground. Mana could chase away from of his fatigue, but it wouldn't last forever.

"Look!" Signum suddenly yelled a few feet away.

He looked at the Knight then followed her outstretched hand. Looming over the rest of the valley, just visabel in the last vestiges of sunlight, he could make out a building. It was a massive construct, that vaguely reminded him of the cathedrals of Europe in size and shape. Whether or not is was occupied didn't cross his mind. They needed shelter from the weather and anywhere would do in their situation.

"Go back and tell Lindy. I'll find a way in!" he yelled over the wind. Energy was vital and speech required much needed energy. We could use telepathy, but that's a mana drain…though it word be easier. Signum gave him a small nod and began to walk back towards the party. He was glad she hadn't protested. They needed shelter for the night and there was a chance that whoever, if anyone, lived in the building might refuse to help. He was cold and tired; no local who stood in his way would be spared if they dared to stand before him. Azriel would feed on them if they dared to block his way.

He pushed himself onwards, the thought of shelter driving him forward. If there was killing to be down inside that building he wanted to get it down before the young ones in the group saw it. They didn't need to see such a sight, not yet at least. They would be innocent for a little longer and the right to drag them his world was not his. That task fell to others, others would take the fall. He had taken it enough during the battles with Voldemort. Colin Creevy was his eternal testament to his failure to protect that innocence, an eternal specter that would hound him into eternity.

That oversized pistol rose to meet me and spat fire.

The world exploded in fire. Gouts of flames sought my flesh and fell short as I dodged and weaved. My amour would shield me from the indirect heat, but I had not doubt a direct hit would hurt. The pistol was a modified Linetta Incinerator, originally an anti-boarding weapon used to fight hive based races.

I ducked and weaved, bent and rolled with the grace of a dancer. My Lady demanded we always be in top physical shape and master the war dance arts. I saw the naked steel of the Centurion Blade as he ran towards me as I came out a roll. I lashed out, my sword barely deflecting it.

My foot lashed out as he bore downwards on me. I caught him square in the rest and he fell backwards. My sixth sense warned me and I hastily rolled away as several gouts of fire roared over where my head had been. At that moment I saw the oddest thing, the sergeant's trefoil hat burring from his own flames.

The large man, he was far bigger that I first thought, quickly rose to his feet and gave me a savage grin. "Time to die traitor scum!" he boasted as he leveled his Incinerator at me. My kick had seemingly left him unfazed.

"Seven times I call upon the fire! Infernal Sheild!" I said under my breath. The last prepared spell came to life and the sergeant faltered. His own flames became my shield as he pulled the trigger. They gathered before me, forming a wall. It only grew in size as his shot were assimilated. "Traitor?" I called out over the flames. "Traitor you say? I committed no crime. You on the other hand…" I trailed trialed off as I took control of the flames, enslaving them to my will. "You fight for the original traitors! You serve the Angel of Treason! Who ordered the slaughter of Mid? The Hyperion Execution? The Destruction of the Zep Templar and the execution of their followers? The instigators of the Belkan Church persecution? You, you, you! YOU are the monsters for following such a leader, therefore you are the traitor! Now face your damnation traitor, be consumed by your own flames!"

While I talked I forced the flames to slowly enclose the sergeant. I had no plan to kill him with fire, but he would die from a lack of vital fluids. I could see his silhouette trembled through the flames, but it might have been the flickering fire distorting my view. Then I heard his screams. The fire from an Incinerator was not a normal fire by any means. It's power was in it's feeding habits. It was the creation of the famed weapon designer Linette Dalridge during the Uprisings. She was brilliant, yet mad and the Incinerator was proof of that. The flames no longer fed on oxygen, but anything and everything. So long as they were fed they could not be extinguished. Perhaps it was for the best that Linette had died in the Ickore Implosion along with most of her inventions and techniques for crafting those weapons.

The screams of the sergeant grew louder as the flames closed in. The crystal tower reflected the dull red and orange glow casting it around the area. My prey contained, I looked around. The Guardsmen were broken, most lay dead and the survivors fled for their lives. The Daemonguard were cleaning up the last holdouts, and it was clear the group I had sent to the flank had been the hammer to my anvil. I turned my attention to my prey, as the Captain and my followers came to guard my back.

I forced the flames aside and cast them into the sky. The pillar of fire shot into the sky and beyond. It might hit something before it reached orbit, but I doubted it would last long. I stalked towards the brunt and quivering sergeant. Kicking aside the melted hilt of his sword I knelt at his side. Most of his clothes had been brunt off,leaving only a few scraps here and there. He screamed in agony, wanting to die. His flesh was blackened and charred, eyebrows gone, and one eye fused shut by the heat and the other blinded by the vaguely reminded me of a half melted wax statue that my Lady had once seen. He would be given death only when I finished with him.

Slowly I peeled away the skin on his neck, was a sadistic smirk. He screamed even louder. "You know," I said gently, "you blood annoys me. Why does it make me want it so bad?" His screams grew as I saw the raw flesh below the charred skin. "I really hate mysteries you know. They annoy me, so here's the deal. One time only deal of course. I'll grant you death, if you let me have your blood." His screams began to die down as his will to live faded. He was dying; the natural process had beaten me. "Alright I'll take that as an agreement," I chirped as I raised the Devil Sword above my head and brought it down on his neck.

It was a clean cut, without a waste of energy and his annoying screams stopped. I procured a vial from sleeve and collected some of the blood. Capping it I returned it to its home and stood.

"M-M-M lady Inquisitor!" the captain said in shock.

"What? Did you not expect that to happen Captain?" I asked him icily. "This man," I gave the corpse a kick, "annoyed me, his blood annoyed me. We are at war with these people. They will find his corpse when we move out, or what's left of his remains. They will see and fear what monster could have done this to another living being, they will fear us. Morale will harder to maintain with this," I pointed to the charred corpse, "image fresh in their minds. It will break them; eat away at them in dreams and waking nightmares. This is war! We're here to break, destroy, and kill! We are a tool of our Lady's will to break her enemies by any and all means necessary! Do you understand me Captain?" I fixed him with a contemptuous glare. How he had made captain without seeing this level of violence on a regular basis I have not idea.

"…I…I understand…damn me for it, but I understand."

"There is more work to be done then. Leave the bodies of the enemy, collect our wounded and we'll wait for the main force. I'll be returning to the Whitefire once we link up with the main army." I started walking towards the trees when I remembered the stupid tower. "Captain, secure this tower…thing. Had it off to the engineers in the main army and have them dissect it, or if they fail at that destroy is completely. It's a gaudy eyesore either way."

A/N: Yes, I'm back! Real life took over, but after a while this chapter is finally done. The last part of this chapter has me wondering what sort of reactions I'll get about it. Anastasia is brutal for sure, but now I feel like I'm really walking the T-M rating line. Anyway, Chronicles of Ascension is wrapping up here in about four chapters. I should be able to push out chapters much faster now, so stay tuned.

Remember to read and review! Tell me what you liked/disliked, favorite subplot, character, an idea you think might be good, anything!