They say a Chinese man gazed into the heavens and saw the destruction written there, they say that druids of the Celtic land deciphered the bloody entrails that explained uncountable death, they even say the new Pythia burst out crying from the horrid visions she was sent.
They say that the island of Atlantis was struck with catastrophic energies and fell into the ocean never to be seen again.
I will say this now; it could have been anywhere at anytime when both sides of this genetic Raganrok decided to vent their fury on each other.
They always said Atlantis was considered a cursed land.
Xien Tsu was not a coward.
He was a tactician of the greatest army the world has ever seen.
While his former companions were dragged out of the Atlantian balcony, he began his own assent up the crumbling stairwell, heating the steps as he went.
It was one thing to burn a wick by placing your fingers on the tip, and quite another to burn ropes without a hint of smoke. But to heat the cold, red stone of the palace was quite a different task.
He had no true reason to call forth his power in a flood of heat, no lasting passion to cause these strangers harm, he just knew he had to do something to hurry his companion's captors.
And sweltering heat normally caused one to seek out fresh air as fast as they could.
So, the former general silently climbed the steps, dragging his power-touched fingers across the smooth and grainy feel of the dark stone work. Forcing the stonework to heat up, to sweat, to fill itself with warmth it only knew in its beginning stages of life.
Benten, goddess of luck, may have abandoned him long ago but he was ready to accept his fate. As a traitor, as a force of evil, as a pawn. But he would be dammed to wander past the Immortals forever if he didn't go out fighting like the man he used to be.
By his will, the stones began to glow.
"Shinrei"
That name was probably the only one Nur never spat out of his mouth. Instead he was calmer with her, more delicate. And in this way Desdemona was always jealous.
Her power was death, pure and simple. Its workings could hit you like a sword, killing you instantly, or could be hidden in a gut wrenching pain that forced its victim to believe that death would be preferable. Any assassin would be instantly jealous of her spectrum of torture, any human would crumble in fear of her grasp of power.
Hades himself couldn't cause death, only lord over it in ramshackle version of her powers.
And yet, Nur still favored the Chin girl. Still called to her delicately, still held her carefully so as not to spook the fragile creature.
And Plague would never understand why.
She was trained specifically to be Nur's right hand lady, to be his head honcho and last trick. The one that counted the most in the thickest part of the battle. Not the Mouse from the kitchen, who rather hide under the dog's fur then face her master.
In a battle Shinrei would be useless, so why was this pitiful attempt of a warrior his favorite and least trained member?
"Shinrei" he called again.
And this time the young girl stepped forward.
"Stand by the door way and do what we talked about."
Obeying without hesitation, the scarred daughter of a prostitute walked near the doorway. She was not right in front of it, only close by. Close enough to see anybody walking in before Nur, but out of reach enough that she wouldn't be hurt immediately.
Pai barely acknowledged her now seated appearance as he crossed into the opening of the stairs.
The only thing that had changed from the desolate worship area was more threatening clouds and the ladies' positions. Clouds hung in the background, completely covering the once barely visible mountain.
Perhaps it was only the lingering grasp on his power or maybe the backlash of the heat he stored into the stairs, whatever the reason, Xien Tsu could feel heat clinging to hisself. Not the best condition for a fight at all.
Men tended to be sloppy in heat. They tended to become tired and faint easily as well.
Sweat began to form around Desdemona's face as she too began to feel the wrath of Pai. "What have you done Chin man?"
Leering back at the geisha, he replied "I gave our enemies a reason to meet us. Now shut up woman and prepare to fight."
As if he was the new Pythia of Apollo's domain, Tsu's prediction of the oncoming attack proved correct. Together the band of misfits cleared the enclosed area of the stairwell and gasped for fresh air to feed to their lungs.
Hanging limply from Kwanio's side was the fire starter and by the white man's side was the traitorous Atlantian.
"This is where they went"
Pulling an arrow from her hand, Lina let loose her own fury with a spectacular display if pyrotechnics. Screeching arrows took out chunks of rock and loose etchings around the altar top. Debris and dust began to cover each side's view. Ghostly images of enemies drifted in the smoky haze, one couldn't see the enemy come until they were right on top of each other.
Or until the blaze of an arrow cut throw the mist in a heated strike, but then it was too late.
Seeing the blazes part through the mist was like a religious experience for Desdemona. She, who been raised Greek with stories of Apollo's and Artimis's far-shooting wrath. Once, as a simple innocent girl she ran to the gods, asking them to save her. Once, as an innocent girl, she would have run from the god's obvious anger.
But she wasn't a girl child any longer. And such thoughts of innocence and weakness belonged only to the Chin girl now.
Bracing her feet in, she calmed her breath and lowered her arms to her side, appearing like a limp puppet. Soon a wave crept forth from her hands, slowly it carved a path through the mist, and it began to deteriorate the carpet lining the altar way. Sweat began to drip from her brow as she pumped yet more power into her deadly wave.
Elena felt it first; it would be her luck to have yet another problem occur to her health. She saw the dust and debris part like a curtain and then her stomach felt a twinge. It was as if someone suddenly punched her in the gut. Surprisingly, the wave made slow progress but her stomach heaved as if the flu was at its peak. Sweat and pain became her companions, as she heaved out the remains of a meal that feed her days ago.
Seeing Elena heave and retch caused Lina to redirect her arrows to the beginning of the wave. This time however, it was personal. Still flying blind, she let loose her own arsenal, causing them to burst on contact. These arrows didn't just explode into bits of fire, easily burning and thus exploding the wood. These arrows burst into tinier arrows that bored into anything they found, they cut through timbers, stone and flesh. She was pissed, and the arrows were just the extension of her anger.
Not waiting for the arrows to land the hearty Egyptian dropped his prisoner and went for the first thing he could find. Grabbing the heavy metal of the candle brazen, Kwanio began to swing the brass like a club. Many a times has he fought marauders trying to steal his camels, trying to rape his wife, or steal his children. And many a time they fell before the strength of his strike.
Grunting, Pai took up the challenge from the club barer. The sharp metallic sword sang as he released it from its prison of a sheath. Too many times has the general heard this noise, times a thousand at least, filled with screaming and grunting from his own men as he engaged the enemy.
Arrows rained past him as he stepped forward. He neither cared nor expected much from this outcome, but the other man came upon him with frenzy. The candleholder kept the Chin man at a distance as it was used in swinging frontal attacks. Dancing together the way two fighters prepared for death as the men engaged the other. Pai raised his sword and stopped the crushing blow meant for his unconcerned face. His katana perfect, he sidestepped under the other's guard, moving the holder away from any critical future blows.
Not to be outdone, Kwanio raised his meaty hand away from the defenseless metal stick and crashed a blow against his assailant's cheekbone. Blood and spit mixed together as the Chin man fell to the ground. Shocked and almost unconscious from the force of the blow.
Believing his enemy to be down for the count Kwanio made way for the wave's origin, the Greek.
She in the meantime was busy deflecting arrows. Twice they bored into her skin, leaving painful gashes in her arm and abdominal. Abandoning the mighty wave, Desdemona brought her hands to block her face from the arrows might, as well as forcing her power to collect into an instant shield. Nothing this side of the Styx has been able to come through so far, and she wasn't going to let some glowing mockery of her lord stop it now.
But Pai wasn't down yet. As the Egyptian man's foot crossed over his prone form he grabbed at the ankle and pinched the tendon. Number one rule in fighting: Play dirty.
Down the colossus of muscle came. Rolling out of the way Tsu jumped to his feet and grabbed his sword in one movement. Feeling his face already swelling Tsu mentally became more focused. This was a true battle, something his blood and training screamed for in his heart.
Glancing at the melee at large, Nef saw her opening. The singer, the reason for this atrocious journey and rampaging war, was lying on the altar being guarded by some stupid priest in a robe. Glancing back at her own stupid priest, she smiled. Yes, her priest could transport them places and cure the dead, but those were all defensive powers. Nothing in her own clerical accounts told her that this one would be any different. Dodging out of the way of the meaty gladiators as they both traded blows to curl teeth, she snuck around towards the altar. As she silently sidestepped the raining arrows, she pulled out her own weapon's and a priestess's best friend. Twin daggers were slipped from her sheaths near her ankles. Bracing the cold steel against her wrists, Nef smiled.
Frustrated that her arrows weren't having as much success Lina moved her own hands in flying her missiles, using her finger movements as directions to the gliding grenades. So focused was her assault and dips and weaves through the air, she did not notice the stir of the prisoners.
Zan was awake. Confused but still awake. He barely acknowledged the two fighters, bleeding and bruised from each other's strikes, nor a creeping priestess, but he did notice his Greek female being attacked by the women in front of him. It was bad enough that this whore was attacking his whore, but the fact that she was swinging bright-lighted noisemakers was enough for his splitting headache to be the death of him. Stumbling to his feet, he launched himself at the girl, toppling both of them onto the red stone.
Kwanio's eyes burned with hatred as he engaged his enemy yet again with his candleholder. This time however, he wanted to smash the man's skull flat. He heaved the holder near his shoulder and began to bring it down. With sickening speed the metal mallet descended close to Pai's face. Dodging away from the bone crusher, the Chin man slipped on the tattered remains of a carpet, falling to the ground. Seeing his advantage, Kwanio continued to throw the holder down, needing to hear the sickening crash of broken bone and crushed sinews.
Lina, sprawled and jumbled with the Babylonian, twisted to meet her attacker face on. The man was bruised and bleeding from other exertions, but still capable of catching her off guard. This is something she didn't want. She didn't want a man on top of her, she didn't want Bevin to be taken and she certainly didn't want Elena to be sick. And as far as she could tell it was all this man's fault right now.
Focusing her power, Lina, the forgotten Greek smiled a wicked smile she learned from her Celtic friend. Slowly she reached for the man's chest, pressing her hands against his straining muscles. Focusing her strength she formed as many arrows as she could.
The resulting explosion propelled Zan to fall feet away from her sprawled form, his chest a big red gash that pulsed with blood.
"Shit!"
What else does one say when they see their enemy fly through the air because of some tart's explosion? True, Nevat saw hundreds of things in the past day that really should only belong to the gods, but this was just insane! A man shouldn't fly through the sky with his chest emitting smoke from some fire. He tried to push his way through to the arrogant SOB, but the priest's arms tightly wrapped around his prone arms.
"Shit!"
What else was one supposed to say when your chest is bleeding out your life? When you can almost see your white ribs poking through torn bloody patches of skin?
Lord Kazan Rishka felt the immense pain come sweeping in from the torn flesh. He could feel the sting of tears form in the corner of his eyes and he could hear the mocking tone of his father and of his "master" laughing at his unworthiness, laughing at his f attempt to hurt a woman who most likely killed him, he could hear his father give him a key to the harem, saying that he wasn't worth having access to the man's quarters.
And he could feel Shamash's fire spilling through his blood, warming his anger and engulfing the pain.
Screaming a challenge to the whore before him, he began to let loose his fury. Flames sprung from his fingers, searching feeding sucking all the air away from the people's breath. They were all hot due to the Chin's man's stair escapade, but now they could feel their skin burn from the wrath. They could see the red flames course through the once peaceful altar scene.
Lina could barley turn her hands up before the flames pounced onto her toga, eating away the flesh and the rough fibers. Screaming, she started to run.
With the priest distracted by the new events, Hydro had access to his own hands, and thus could position his own power. Glancing back at Zan, this Atlantian knew it was over, the man was completely gone from whatever ideas he once had. He was facing demons where there was only open heated air. The screaming woman was about to push herself of the crumbling top of this palace and altar, until a water bomb descended on top of her. Squashed flat by the power, Lina once again ended up on the floor. But this time she was wet, and not on fire.
After nodding to her soaked form, Nevat glanced over to his own female companion. Desdemona was almost in the same boat as Zan, maddened by the anger of the day and living through her own demons of inadequacy. He flung another bomb, making sure to cool her pretty little head before she crossed that invisible line of sanity that too many people here laughed at.
Elena however, didn't notice the water bomb descend on top of the young archer; she was too busy being angry with the fire starter who caused the girl to scream so.
Taking a deep breath she whispered "Here we go again." Plunging into her consciousness she gained sight of the threads forming inside her head. Seeing the charred and taunt remains of her life she laughed at the absurdity of today's nonsense. Here she was rescuing some odd girl against some odd people in some odd backward world so unlike her own. But whatever the Lord wanted of her couldn't be as bad as she could be doing.
With one set of eyes gleaming at the crazy Babylonian in front of her, and another set focused on the mental image of binding threads, she cast out her power and reached for the firestarter. Like a trained fisherman, she caught hold of his consciousness and started dragging the tiny thread taunt in her hands. After tying it securely to her own mind, she crossed the link.
The memories that flowed past her were interesting ones indeed. She saw the burning of Lina, and she saw Lina's own trick that caused the anger to swell in this pig's belly. She could see the allure of another Greek woman, the commanding need to share love with her and finally Elena was inside that man's head.
Quickly she ran through the dark haze that was his consciousness, the darkness feed his power and heated his anger as images of past injustices and cruel lessons flashed through the "sky" of the Babylonians mind's eye.
Dismissing these notions she entered his eyes, causing complete screw up and reversal to occur.
She didn't see thing like other people, her colors were switched and if she wanted too, she could tamper with the focus power of the eyes as well as the depth perception. The resulting blow made the already fragile mind of Zan go into a haywire and jerky fashion.
Sky became ground, altar became mountain, enemy became friend, and friend became candleholder.
Not to mention the memories of both began to mix. Issues of being the slave in a rich decorated Middle Eastern palace to that of the slave in the hot sun haling pillars of stone. One minute Zan was laying in the arms of the lover Yoesp, the next Elena was fucking the closest available body. Punishment for late delivery on a stone carving or the punishment of a wrong answer caused both souls to cry out as a whip, as knife, as a hot iron descended upon them.
Anger becomes depression, depression becomes hatred, hatred becomes love, love becomes forgiveness, it all became an emotional roller coaster that the unprepared Zan couldn't control. On the outside of this inner turmoil, his body began to convulse and flail like a possessed puppet in a angry child's hands. His arms whipped around his body, his legs sprawled on the floor and tried to high jump. Spittle began to form on his lower lip. And his eyes rolled helplessly in their sockets not knowing what to look at.
Iole just watched in a panic as the resulting turmoil played out in front of her. Her archer was down, too afraid to stand up let alone she be burnt again. Her muscle man was out fighting and dodging a sharpened blade, holding his own with a piece of metal support. And her other two were somewhere doing nothing important. One was laying on the ground dead as a doornail and the other was running off.
Looking over the assailants and the allies, her eyes began to un-focus. Pictures and future outcomes began to play across her vision, mixing and collecting within the fibers of time. She saw Kwanio fighting Pai, killing Pai, being killed by Pai. She saw her Egyptian female attack Nur, saw her slipping on rocks, seeing her falling to her doom, saw her being turned inside. She saw Elena stumbling around, she watched as Elena joined with the Babylonian, seeing as she plunged a blade down his throat.
Images whirled in her head, demanding her to act, demanding her to move and decide, which fate, which outcome, which destiny she would have to face.
The chaotic jumble whirling her vision like a pebble in a typhoon, the falling sensation and utter uncontrollability that forced her to face the future.
That is, until she saw a new face.
Suddenly, the chaotic mesh stopped, a sickening halt almost made her loose her stomach contents.
One single girl, dark black hair and slanted eyes with a radiance that made Apollo seem dark and shadowed.
This discovery went unnoticed by the demigod on the other side of the spectrum. Nur's own gaze crossed over the faces of the battle contenders.
Nef in the mean time was crossing behind him, after scaling around the altar. She steadied her breath and was about to throw one of her first daggers when the priest turned on her. He changed the distance between their beings and grabbed her wrist. Nef starred up into his eyes, couldn't move her eyes away from his gaze, dying in his eyes in a fit of torture she has never experienced before. As if she was looking to her own future and through his eyes back at her own weakness. A double blow that made her weak and angry at the same time.
At the same time Shinrei also had double emotions. She never use her power save for a calming session at the end of the day, of placing a mental feeling of happiness that permeated in the kitchen or that of a peaceful experience when your heart was about to split from your chest.
But never anything that would force angry fighters to throw down their weapons, and certainly nothing of this scale.
Forcing herself to be calmed, she mentally formed a samisen in her mind's eye. Playing the instrument always calmed her down with his mourning notes, and thus it became her harbinger of her power. Slowly her heart rate relaxed as she concentrated on her goal, stopping individuals from fighting and letting others continue.
With pain staking slowness and carefulness, the prostitute's daughter began to mentally picture her friends and their attackers, bringing into a focus the ones she knew the most and their own personal symbols she has grouped them with. She saw her Chinese brethren Xien Tsu fighting the black man, concentrating she began to form a protective bubble around his sword, her symbol for the warrior.
He, in the meantime, grabbled his way out of the present danger. He kicked the black man landing his squarely in the knee. The few seconds brought him enough time to bounce back onto his feet.
Suminto Shinrei again drew on her power and searched for her other companion. The man scared her and flattered her at the same time, definitely somebody to fear. Lord Kazan. He was on the ground, crawling and sprawling and grabbing his head in pain. His convulsions knocking into anything he could ran into, a last minute detailed item of the old holy sanctuary, a stray priest, and his own feet.
His symbol, the intense glare he cast on anybody within eye sight always frightened her, the way he eyes suggested so much more yet held a trace of insane fire lighting a deeper passion and emotion. Soon, he too began to be incased in another protective bubble.
She looked once again over the closest combatants for more allies, but Desdemona was too far out of it being confronted by Nevat. The were not in danger and thus didn't need any spell to help them out.
She didn't see the Kelt anywhere, and that worried her. Thus his symbol, Angus the dog she has found sanctuary and safety behind, was erased from her preparing memory. It was too late to worry about him; she had work to do and allies to help out.
Time to grow a backbone and prove her worth.
Unlike Desdemona's power, her's wasn't a flashy wave, nor was it a slow creeping one. One minute she paused and strummed her mental samisun's chords, and the next the mental ears of her attackers heard her song.
Instantly their movements stopped, all the rage and adrenaline stopped pumping into their veins. It was as if they had just woken up. The archer, the black man and the priest, each caught in their peace time places.
Lina just fainted in welcome relief seeing her friends Lorn and Cailope back again.
Kwanio began to smile, and was even about to sing a hearty song of the plains of his homeland when Pai slashed his ribs with the tip of his blade, leaving a rapidly growing stain of blood across his chest.
Iole was making her way over towards Shinrei, needing to finish her job and hand it all over when she felt the strangest part of her father's body waken. It was as if a candle flared back into life after a gust of wind. She was so excited to follow this little spark, in case it did lead her back to her father, that she didn't feel the flarings of a much more real fire start to attack her father's priestly robes.
Alister was considered one of the best warriors in his isle. Even without his inhuman strength and ability he was a champion within his own right. Part of that came from being smart, he knew how to fight, on a certain terrain, and when to use surprise against your prepared enemy. And thus, using his skills this Kelto warrior managed to climb the crumbling pile of the wrecked balcony and even follow somewhat behind his "master's" enemies.
The other part of his greatness as a warrior came from not being a fool. He always considered himself a devout man, praying to the gods when times were tough, praying to the gods in submission after succeeding in one action or another, he even prayed to the gods when his own mortal mind failed him.
Seeing the old man burst into flames, seeing the Lordling Zan flail and whip around in such a frenzy, seeing some of the women on both sides lying on the ground dead, seeing Pai and the giant black man fight with frightening cruelty was more then he expected.
His legs convulsed underneath him as he sank to the ground. Normally he would be right at his blood brother's side, but something about this entire chaos was amiss. Something was wrong; something was much bigger then himself and all the other would be gods. Alister grabbed the hilt of his hunting knife out of its sheath by his belt loop. Bringing it towards his wrist he whispered, "Sprits of this forgotten realm, hear me. Spirits of nature and the underworld hear this poor Celtic man's voice and answer my request, show me what is to be done."
It could have been just a slight clearing in the dusty clouds, it could have been Kwanio's answering call to the shock that Shinrei and Tsu gave him, or it could have been the nature sprits long forgotten in the realm that answered the Celt's plea.
Whatever the reason, the skies cleared and a tiny fissure started to appear on this natural floor of the temple, it jumped and cracked normally enough, but its starting position was at Alister's knees and ended close by the altar top where the prone female Celt laid. The dusty skies were lit from the background with its own light, enough to rival the sun, and it appeared as if the girl was holy visage, something that the likes of other hero's soon to be born will see again. And the ground shook, as a final confirmation of his goal
Witnessing the message with all his senses, Alister plunged the blade into his soft flesh, paying the bloodless ones the debt he owed them.
After the deed was done, Alister began to make his way towards his "master's" side. Creeping away from the god sent crack; he smiled as he approached. Atlantis was a cursed place after all; it was good to know he was not abandoned just yet.
Nef herself appeared to be abandoned by her people, by herself, and by her soul. Both seem vacant in the clutches of Nur's hands. He still held her, showing her own weakness and failures, playing them back at her. Her cousins death, her decisions on the deaths of plenty of prisoners, of her failure to bear children, of her own greediness that nearly caused her father to die in the alley ways.
However, relief soon followed when Alister put her of her misery. After her form slumped towards the ground, he resheathed his blade that he used to bash her head. Nur's eyes greedily looked for Alister's, but the religious Kelt wouldn't meet his gaze. Instead, he began tying the Egyptian woman up and placed her to the sides of Pai's own fight.
He would have joined his blood brother in defeating the Egyptian man, but Nur grabbed his arm.
"Guard the prisoner."
Alister hid his satisfaction.
Shinrei couldn't hide hers, couldn't even feel a satisfied feeling within herself. All she could see was destruction caused by her, an unfair advance that may cause two men their lives.
The big Egyptian man was bleeding profusely, his cloth shirt already dripping blood on the stone altar way, and the older man was burning to death.
Quickly she canceled the concealed happiness she caused her enemies; she quickly burst the bubbles and unwrapped the spell she wove so well. Instantly the samisun on her mind stopped its mourning peels, and just as fast the victims grew aware of their situation, of their pain.
Howling like a demon the black man clutched his stomach, murder and pain filled his eyes.
But the priest's voice was even more terrible, a sound that no mortal or immortal could truly give life too, a sound that made her hair stand on end complete with a smell of burning flesh that made her eyes sting.
She didn't mean too, she didn't mean to send these people straight to the immortals, she was only following instructions, he said they would go to sleep and she would be able to leave and go back home. To her homely kitchen, to her protective Angus.
She wasn't meant to hear their screams, wasn't meant to be able to touch their blood. He said she would just be sending them to a happier place.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she tried to bury her ears with her hands, but she couldn't keep the other feelings out. She was an empath after all. And because of that she could feel the burns run over her own body, could feel the blood gush out of her body.
True this was only a tiny diluted pain, but it wasn't hers, and she didn't even have the pain killer adrenaline or anger to mask the effects. She could feel and hear and see the pain. Her own bubble used to separate herself from the others wasn't working anymore, as if that archer she took down pierced her as Shinrei pierced the archer's mind.
It wasn't supposed to be this way and she was afraid and hurt and terribly, terribly sorry.
She could feel the big man collapse from the pain trying to hold the blood and guts inside his stomach.
Looking up, she could see the flaming man come closer to her. He tripped and was too old and too frail and too hurt to move any more, just cried as the flames seared his flesh, ate his clothes and stole his life.
Crying, she moved closer.
She caused this; she had to see it through to the end. It was her punishment, it was her penance.
She could feel the heat of the flames, could see them hungrily trying to eat off anything too close. Shinrei gazed down into the face of the old man, his wrinkles turning red and orange and dirty brown as the revealed the touch of the sun, his eyes glassy with tears and pain. Her own pain grew as she got closer to him. She could feel the nerve endings scream in her mind, could feel the feet curl up and try desperately to stop the hurt, her fingers curled and spasmed.
So intense was her crying, and the pain and the mental anguish, she didn't see the hand jump out and grab her head. Was only surprised when her own hand jumped out and reached for the old man's head. So great was the empathic link, that she began to mimic the man's words.
"Great Apollo shall will it to be so"
And then it hit her.
A jolt slammed into her skull, she could feel voices and thoughts ramming into to her scared conscience. Designs and powers erupted her mind's order as she fell into a timeless abyss of chaos and thoughts foreign to her own. Faces and dreams, loves and death songs echoed in her mind. Her eyes seeing places of long past, the temple, the original, and the initial premonition. Thousands of lives and thoughts, beings she knew not of before, screaming their pasts into her brain. A language, some customs and a god she never knew before filled her to the brim. A turret of females voicing their opinions all at once. Her eyes glowed with pain. She couldn't stop the memories, the tales of love and betrayal, of life and its antithesis, over and over again, with a new face, a new feature, a new pattern. She clutched her head in the agony, the sudden spasm to her nerves was far more than she could handle. Old ways were lost while new ones demanded total control. Something broke, something was built, muscles she never moved, flexed, nerve ends reformed and connected with forgotten others. Cells expanded and multiplied. Nucleuses evolved.
Suminto Shinrei was born again under the guiding light of Apollo, her god.
She heard the confessions; she felt the truth and she knew what was at stake. Shinrei remembered the horror she felt when she learned of her talent, how she had helped out her mother's business before some men became too wary and her mother became too arrogant. Shinrei remembered Nur coming to her, promising her good things, better then the garbaged streets she came from. And she remembered when Desdemona first came to their little gathering, their little home.
She was bright eyed and as worried as Shinrei was. Desdemona was angry with her brother, was angry at her misuse, but she was still a young girl not ready for the power the world was lying at he feet. She was still wholesome and pure.
Then Nur showed her more, showed her the power she could wield with her pinky. The first outing Desdemona came back shocked and concerned with her soul, praying endlessly to her gods and crying to her mother's sprit. But days went by and more outings came, and soon the girl child was looking for more, soon she was expecting them. Her logic was twisted and her thinking was just a big lie by Nur, work harder Desdemona and your brother will beg to have you back. A little more umuff Desdemona and your people will hand you a throne. More power Plague and towns will crumple before you.
Shinrei remembered the change, how one moment she was a friend, a companion, and the next she was a demigod and an aristocrat.
And it started with a lie.
"They will just go to sleep Shinrei. You won't hurt any of them."
And yet, the burnt out corpse of Iole's father laid before her. A husk of flesh, a leftover of a promise, a prominent betrayal.
And then a new thought entered her mind. A good friend who's own life just ended when this story began, Iole. The last true Pythia of this world.
Memories of picnicking with her father, of talking late into the hours with him were disrupted with her own death images. A plunging knife into her back, a scarlet trail, and her father's own death sentence.
Mentally Shinrei nodded and took control of her prone form once more.
"Goodnight Papa," she said while her hand delicately closed the old priest eyes. He was the biggest victim of Nur's plan. The innocent that was a destroyed by his handy work. Pythia's are known to hurt themselves performing the sacred rights, but Iole's father was struck in incomparable circumstances that ended in his insanity.
How many more victims must there be?
Glancing around at the still angry fight scenes, Shinrei and her host of priestess, shuddered.
Using the same technique as before, Shinrei started forming bubbles with her samisen, playing out a long chord. This time not to let the other's slumber in a peaceful comatose, rather in a bubble of connection. With the touch granted by Iole, she was now more powerful. Not only was she an empath and a Pythia in her own right, she also possessed the powers granted to Pythos, the man. She could teleport.
Mentally she called to her allies, forming their symbols and encasing them in their mutual bubbles. She looked over at the Greek's first ally. The young archer was still out cold from Shinrei's first spell. Forming the image of a bright bow and arrow, Shinrei formed the mental construction over the sleeping girl.
She looked once more for the Celtic man with the blue tattoos. His mental image of Angus already formed in her mind. He was a good kind man, somebody who reminded her too much of the essence of security. Only she couldn't get a good lock on him. He was too close to Nur for her liking. And even though these protective barriers were her constructs, she didn't trust the newness of this talent to only take Alister. Nur might be caught up in the spell for being too close to Alister. She promised herself she would come back for him when she moved on to her next target.
Alister however, was just close enough to his. Raising the same blade that fed his gods he plunged the iron into the back of his master. Dark blood splashed into his face as Nur turned to see the betrayal.
The great master knew of the wavering aspect of Alister thoughts, but never believed that the honorable man would be so foolhardy. Alister was done bending knee to this phony druid, done holding his tongue while innocent men where made examples within inches of the their lives, done watching as his kin were used as play things only to be destroyed later on.
He cracked his skull against the brain of the dictator, forcing Nur to feel even more pain and even more hatred. Dazed and confused, he couldn't get a clear lock on the Celt as Alister brought out his broadsword and heaved it into Nur's leg.
Anger and pain was something Nur understood. Was something he knew well. Was something he knew how to give as well as receive.
Flushing with rage and power, Nur catapulted Alister out of the way, He would have done more, save his mind was distracted with a disappearing Egyptian women to his side. One moment she was there, the next she was next to Shinrei.
Distracted enough to forget the Celt.
Turning Shinrei looked for Pai, her kin and handsome protector. She knew in her heart that he was a good man deep down. Forget about the scars upon his soul and the angry tone in his voice, he was a deeply loyal and caring man.
Unfortunately he was also deeply engulfed in a battle. Kwanio, the Egyptian man who killed the innocents in the market place so far ago, troubled Shinrei. He was a troubled man inside, confused and prone to violence now.
He reminded her of Desdemona.
She was in the arms of the Atlantian, also too close to another to be safely grabbed.
Shinrei was brought out of her mental spell when she felt the quake. Huge pieces of the ground were lifting and falling, forming pillars of rock and crypts of dirt. On top such column stood the Egyptian man. His blood soaked shirt was dripping blood onto his construction, anger seizing him in such a passion that he turned the entire place into a craterous deathbed.
Images flashed before Shinrei's eyes, lava, hot and strong were about to erupt from the mountain. The quite old mountain was feeding off of Kwanio's anger and power. Voice filled her head; spells came unasked for as the grand old Pythia's offered their advice.
Glancing once more around the den of destruction she saw her Celtic friend grab for the unconscious form of Bevin. Holding her close to his body, he began to slide away from the danger, down the angry earth. The Pythia's stopped advising and now demanded. Now! Go! She looked for Elena, only to see her too being dragged, her captor was the fire starter, his body still shook with anger and tiny flames flowed from his ruined tatters of a robe. His eyes however, lost their crazed appearance, and she could have sworn that they were now black with white pupils instead of the reverse. Screams filled her mind, and the spell was on her tongue before she could look for her last ally. Pai... she couldn't see him.
The image of heated air, and earthen constructs was the last that Shinrei saw before she blinked out of Atlantis.
Nevat saw destruction of his isle's most sacred sight. The shrine was being desecrated and the mountain was showing its anger. Lava began to pour out of its mouth, smothering everything in its path, searching and destroying things in its path. Quickly, Nevat lead Desdemona closer to the one man he hoped could get him out of this. Nur.
Nur was on the ground, his blood still seeping from the wounds that Alister gave him. He knew what had occurred, could feel the betrayal stack up against him. Gathering his allies, he rethought his plan. Nevat, Desdemona, and Kazan were stumbling closer, only Kazan brought with them a prisoner to use.
Looking back he saw Pai still engaging the earthmover. The man was too good to be a use yet. Nobody with an ounce of honesty was allowed to join him. At least not until he found their weakness.
Sweeping up Pai with the others, Nur left. All the while thinking of a very special thing to do to a certain Celtic dog.
Kwanio in all his fury in all his anger felt the rushing of the mountain answer his anger. He could feel the power of the Earth surge into every corner of his mind demanding, needing and requiring every ounce of control from him. He didn't even see Pai after her lowered him into the chasm. Didn't even see when his enemy left him to battle the volcano.
Alone
With only the images of Atlantis's death staring into his power mad eyes.
Beast shook out his fur and set the tablet down. The professor was already asleep, his mind going where ever it wanders to when he is dreaming.
Delicately, he tiptoed over to the old coffeepot Jean put on hours ago. The cold smells of coffee the only thing reminding himself of his own timeline.