A/n: I just wanted to say thank you to those that have left reviews for this story. To say I appreciate it would be an understatement. You guys give me the motivation to keep writing and help me to stay on track. I feel i need to give a shout out to Jota Te in particular, Jota Te is writing a beautiful fic mostly centered around Freya Crescent called The Last Cherry Blossom that i recommend reading. Again, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review. I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it.

...

"Rasler… "

"Rasler… come back home to me…"

"What are you saying?" Rasler asked distantly. "I am home. We can live together again."

"Stay here with me Rasler…"

"I told you that I would. No more fighting pointless battles. We can finally live our lives here together however we want."

She turned and began to walk away. "But you can't…can you?" she called softly over her shoulder. "Do you really think you can stay after all that has happened?"

What had happened? He asked himself as he looked down at his hands, only to realize they were covered in blood. He gasp in disgust at the sight of them and tried desperately to wipe them off. "No! It was not my fault! I tried to save her!" He looked up and realized the woman was running away from him.

He felt an overwhelming sense of desperation as he began to chase after her, even though she was wearing a long white dress she seemed to be moving faster than he ever could. "Come back! Please do not run from me! I would not lie to you!" He chased her down the marble corridor as fast as he could run, but as soon as he thought he could almost touch her, she would effortlessly turn down another corridor without missing a beat. Despite his best efforts, he could not turn on the marble floor as easily and would either crash into the corresponding wall, or miss the corridor entirely and have to go back.

"What do you mean I can't stay!?" he huffed tiredly. He began to notice that the air was becoming increasingly heated and more difficult to breathe in. After a few more minutes of struggling to even barely keep up with her, he stopped to gasp for breath. He felt dizzy and suddenly very thirsty and the heat… Gods the heat! He collapsed and began to realize that the place smelt strongly of smoke, but there was no sign of a fire anywhere. Even his hand was beginning to burn. What was going on?

He looked up from the ground with bleary eyes and the woman was standing before him again smiling. "You better hurry, if you don't, you won't have much time."

"Time? What do you mean I do not have much time? I can't chase after you any… any… gods I am so very tired. Please tell me! Why am I tired?

He awoke to a burning sensation in his left hand. He didn't open his eyes at first, but the pain only intensified. He opened his eyes, and even though his vision was blurry he saw that his glove was on fire and beginning to move up his gauntlet. He let out a yell, yanked the glove from his hand and began to hit his gauntlet against the hot dirt until the fire had been extinguished. He let out a low groan and tenderly held his burned hand.

Despite the pain, his mind was flooded with thoughts of the life he had once lived. The dream he had had was nothing new, but it never helped to quell the deep longing and guilt that came with it. He had never been one to wish for things he knew he could never have, but a part of him would always want nothing more than to return to the home that had been taken from him. He had tried to let go of the bitterness to all the things that had happened to him and to how close he had been to being home only to realize that it had all been too late. He closed his eyes and tried to push back the overwhelming sadness that was pooling up inside of him; he knew he needed to get up and check his surroundings.

He opened his eyes again, and from where he lay, he could see the opening of a cave to his right barely a stone's throw away. Even though he could not see past the opening, it looked cool and inviting compared to where he lay. It felt like hot sand against his skin, but on closer inspection he knew it to be mostly ash. Small streams of fire streaked on the ground like cracks on broken glass. When he stopped to think about it later he was thankful that he had ended up on solid ground instead of in the fire completely. To his right, the rock wall of a steep cliff rose high up into darkness. Darkness.. Was it night? Had it not been daylight when he had fought the fiend while fleeing the castle? The fiend!

With a start, he turned over and forced himself into a sitting position and grabbed desperately for his sword that was partially buried in the ashes beside him. He expected to see the fiend charging toward him, or waiting to deliver a finishing blow, but as he looked around there was not fiend to be found. What he did see however, was enough to drown out the thoughts of anything else.

The ledge before him dropped away, and in the distance barren landscapes rose and fell, mountains towered over their valleys, and streams of fire flowed like rivers from holes in their sides. Great beasts flew around a peak of one nearby. At its base looked to be a town or refuge of some sort. He wondered if the town had been there at the fall, or if something or someone down there had built it? What amazed him the most was the sheer expanse of the underworld itself. It seemed to go on and on endlessly. Even looking up, he could see no ceiling, only blackness.

The amazement was quickly replaced by the waves of heat radiating around him. He realized with dismay that breathing was harder than normal, and his throat felt as dry and barren as the ash around him. He reached for his canteen that was still tied to his belt, and drank greedily from the water within. The cool water flowing down his throat felt like liquid life, and with it his head became clearer. He remembered all the events that had happened previously and concluded that the fiend or the stone must have transported him somewhere, and this somewhere could only be the underworld. He felt in his pouches and in the sand around him, but found no trace of the stone.

With a defeated groan, he accepted that the stone was lost and dearly hoped that it had not fallen in the enemy's hands. Had his efforts only resulted in losing the stone and bringing him here? If so, had the monster slain the others? Perhaps they were able to be successful where he had failed.

After a moment of weighing his options, he pushed himself up and managed to stand on shakier legs than even he had expected; had the fight drained him that much? Slowly, he made his way to the ledge and looked down. The face of the ledge was nearly straight down and with no hand holds that he could see. The rock was covered in ash in a similar fashion to where he stood and even if they had been handholds, he doubted he would be able to find them without slipping to his doom. So, he turned, gathered up his cloak to keep it from catching ablaze and hobbled over to the cave opening he had noticed earlier, silently cursing his weakness as he wiped sweat from his face.

"Looks like I've no choice but to hope this cave offers a way down." He realized he was talking to no one, but decided he really didn't care at this point. He carefully stepped around the small streams of fire, narrowly avoiding catching his boots on fire numerous times before reaching the dark opening. Even up close he could see no further into the cave than an arm's length away. He looked back at the fire and scoffed at his stupidity. He tore a strip of cloth from his cloak and wrapped it tightly around the end of his dagger. He then dipped the tip of it in the liquid fire and watched as the tip of the blade and the cloth glowed with its heat.

He wiped away the sweat burning his eyes again, and holding onto the leftmost wall of the cave for balance, made his way inside. The walls of the cave looked to be of the same rock as outside and he wondered with dread if some creature had not carved this hole for its home. A part of him wanted nothing more than to leave the cave and either attempt to climb down the rock face or save time and jump to his death. Were they not all the same outcome? Regardless, he pressed forward. The cave sloped downward, at times dropping a few feet sharply down before continuing on.

For the first few drops he managed to make it down slowly, but successfully. Upon arriving at the fourth, his vision has become blurry, and he didn't see the drop until he was already falling. He hit the round with a hard thud and a low pained groan; He ached all over and his hand throbbed mercilessly. For a time he didn't even bother trying to get up, the effort required in doing so was something he could do without. In the end, his worry that something might find him there helpless to defend himself was enough to get him moving again, albeit even more carefully this time. He pushed himself down and forward, deeper and deeper into the cave for what had to have been hours but knew that he had probably only covered a mile at most. How far did the cave go?

A little while later and further down, he noticed with amazement that the rock was beginning to look man made. The carved rock was giving way to laid blocks and brick. The steep ledge drops were now decrepit stairs. After making it down only a few flights of these, the cave widened into a large tunnel that split two ways. The left path seemed to keep going down, while the one on the right leveled out.

He took out his flask and drank from its depths trying to clear his head enough to figure out which way to go. He sat in between the two openings and closed his eyes, pouring a little of the water over his head, relishing in its coolness. The path leading down would surely lead to the bottom of the mountain if he were lucky that is, not that luck had been on his side recently. The other path he wasn't sure about. Perhaps it lead to a storeroom or an underground city of some kind? Even if there was people living there, who was to say they would not kill him on sight? He made up his mind and started toward the left path.

Upon closer inspection he noticed a sign at it entrance, but could not understand what it said. He began down the path anyway, but heard the sound of something falling from behind him. He jerked around, sword ready but desperately hoping there would be no fight. Fortunately, he saw nothing but a few pebbles skittering across the floor. He walked back to the opening of the path and listened intently. It was faint, and in his current state he couldn't be sure but he thought he heard light footsteps in the other pathway. He really didn't want to find out what creature could making the noise but also knew that he needed to find out what he was against; please let the footsteps have come from something close to human, he hoped, heading cautiously down that path.

The stonework in this path was much more delicate, and if he didn't know better he would swear he had seen the style before. Had he? He shook his head and drank more water; he had to clear his thoughts and focus or he would become food for whatever was down here. The path stayed straight and clear for a while, but it soon changed in a way he did not like. Unlike the paths up to this point that had been barren, bones and charred pieces of equipment and clothes were scattered around the floor as if people had desperately been trying to escape, but had been killed quickly. He stopped and inspected one of the skeletons propped against the wall. Upon touching its skull, the bone turned to dust and caused the rest of the bones fell away. "Well, at least this wasn't recent." He commented. In the pile of bone dust he could see a faint yellow glimmer. He reached into the pile and pulled out a small yellow shard. "What is this?" He asked himself. He know there would be no answer, so he pocketed the shard and decided he would try to find out later.

Again, he heard what he was sure was light footsteps around a corner further down the passage. He pushed himself back up and followed after it. He wondered briefly what he hoped to accomplish when and if he finally found whatever had made the noise; he was fairly sure even a child would be able to best him in his current state.

The passage opened up into a large chamber. On dusty marbled floors, massive columns stood in rows as far as he could see; the chamber itself was lit by stone torches that lined the ancient walls. He didn't know how they could have stayed lit for such a long time, but, even with the light of the torches, he could not see the ceiling or the other ends of the chamber. "How can a place as massive as this exist underneath a mountain?" Rasler asked, his voice echoing throughout the room. "Where do I go from here?"

Mere moments after he spoke, a deep rumble came from further down the chamber, followed by the crash of a large stone falling to the floor. He desperately hoped that the crash had come from a part of the ceiling falling on its own, and that with any luck something down here was not strong enough to knock down one of the mighty pillars. He shined his torch on the dusty floor and saw a trail of small footprints leading toward the left of where he now stood. He wasn't the greatest of trackers but they looked to belong to a woman, or at least a person with small feet.

He began to follow them, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw something black snake its way around the back of a distant column, knocking a small stone across the floor. He could feel his heart racing as he tried to see what it had been. "Is anyone there?" he asked, but his echo was the only reply.

Again he saw movement, and drew his sword. He walked toward it a few steps and listened again. Maybe you should run… like the coward that you are. You have no place here, you are not wanted. Where had that thought come from?

A low hissing sound began to emanate from the direction the creature had went. Could it be a serpent? He thought. As if in answer, a rumbling growl rolled throughout the chamber, and from the darkness a pair of large golden eyes began to move toward him. "What in the god's hell is that?" He asked, steeling himself for battle. As it moved closer, he could see black scales covering the creature's long snout, with sharp teeth, and jagged spikes along the top of its head.

"A Dragon!" he exclaimed, taking a few steps back. He watched in horror as its mouth began to glow orange and only barely managed to scramble behind a nearby pillar as fire billowed past him, its heat nearly suffocating. "Gods! A true black dragon of old! I was a fool to come here!" The fire died, but the embers remained burning on the ground enough to light the room further. He could see the dragon in its entirety. It looked to be about forty feet long and stood twice as tall as he, though its head was not fully raised. Spikes ran along its back and tail. He was fairly certain that those spikes were more than sharp enough to slice him in half. Its wings were probably also massive, but in the chamber he felt fortunate that it did not have the room to extend them.

He quickly moved from behind the column he was standing at, and rolled behind one closer to the dragon being careful to avoid another blast of fire that would have turned him to ashes. He looked down at his sword that was shaking in his grasp. "What am I doing!? Even if I wasn't exhausted, I would not be able to kill it on my own!"

Deciding it was too late to turn back, as soon as the fire stopped, he charged toward the dragon with all the energy he could muster and leapt in the air bringing down his sword as hard as he could onto its head. Sparks flew, but aside from a very shallow cut, the dragon only grew angrier. It whipped its spike covered tail toward his legs, but he managed to notice it in time to jump over it without a moment to spare. He clumsily and desperately went in for a second attack, but the dragon quickly slashed its massive claws and cut deeply into his arm, sending his blade clambering across the chamber.

If I run now it will kill me. He thought. It doesn't matter, you're going to die either way. Why not get it over with more quickly by just giving in? a voice beckoned in his mind. He yanked his knife from his belt with his other arm, and swung at it a second time, managing to gouge the dragon's eye. It let out a loud screech of agony and whipped its tail around again, this time knocking Rasler across the stone floor, one of the spikes stabbing deeply into his leg in the process.

The pain was overwhelming. It felt like a fire had engulfed his leg, which he knew must be poison, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to remember that the dragon would be on him in moments to finish the job. Using his good arm, he scooted across the floor away from the dragon. He did not take his eyes off the dragon that was coming out of its anguish and was beginning to look for its prey again. He dragged himself backward as fast as he could, but knew the dragon would have no trouble closing the distance. Hope had almost left him until his hand landed on the hilt of his sword. "What are the odds?" he laughed deliriously.

The dragon stomped toward him and lifted its claw to deliver the finishing blow. Rasler thrust his blade with all the strength of a man knowing he's going to die. Before he lost consciousness from the pain and heavy weight crashing into him, he felt his blade pierce the dragons flesh deeply between its claws and he heard the dragon screech in torment as everything faded into a blinding light.

He awoke in what he thought surely must have been only a few moments later. He was relieved that he could hear the dragon tearing its way through the packed earth in the distance. His arm and leg ached fiercely, but miraculously, he found that he could move his arm again. After a few miserably failed attempts, he also found his leg held his weight easily. More than this, he couldn't believe that somehow his bleeding had mostly stopped. Could I have been out long enough to have healed? He wondered.

Maybe you ARE dead. Your soul is trapped here and you won't admit that you have been slain like a helpless child. He let out a defeated sigh. "I thought perhaps it was the dragon affecting my mind… But I was wrong... It seems I am slowly going insane."

Even though it still hurt to walk, he knew it was a fatal mistake to stay somewhere so open. So, he forced himself to walk to the edge of the chamber where he had seen the footprints head.

He knew he wouldn't be able to catch up to whoever had left the footprints with his fatigue growing by the step, but stubbornly decided he had come too far to collapse now. He trudged for what felt like an eternity until he came to the leftmost wall and saw a large single door that had long since rotted and now hung in tatters on its rusty hinges. It was ajar enough to squeeze through, but he was sure it would collapse if lightly pushed.

He had expected it, but was still surprised when he saw the remnants of a small camp in the middle of the room. Old fabric was littered around the room and broken and rotted tables were piled against the wall. In two corners, doors led to undoubtedly more rooms. In the center of the room, fabric had been piled into a makeshift bed and the remains of a small fire smoldered next to it. He collapsed onto the makeshift bed and resolved to wait for its owner to return. His weariness and overall pain disagreed with this plan, however, and within minutes he was falling asleep. He faintly registered that bare legs were coming toward him, but he didn't care. His mind drifted into welcomed unconsciousness.