No Title Yet

by dcofultima

Kinda follows the story of FF7. Any ideas on a title please put it in the review. Chapter 10 is up and I like it. Read up folks! R&R Chapters are inside.

Chapter Unknown

The heretic explosions rang out with deadly accuracy and uncanny power. Randomly targeting living forms scattered about the already ravaged field which was now the site of one of the most horrific and gruesome shows of power in the history of existence. Sorcerers, elves, humans, demons, all met on the battlefield and clashed for proof of strength. Swords clashed with swords, armor, and shields as the soldiers fought it out violently. The flames of this battle engulfed nearby forests as cries of the dying and wounded rang out over the horizon. The water bodies near the war zone ran red with the life fluid of each life form.

Every man fighting in this time was feeling one of five emotions: fear, anger, sadness, insanity, or pain. Only one was feeling a different proportion. In the center of the bloodshed and chaos was a brightly illuminated dome. The bright color signified a sorcerer or a wizard inside was shielding himself to most, however the truth to this orb was totally opposite. The field was littered with nearly two hundred million warriors, each race at about equal odds. The real reason of this dome of wondrous light was simple: to kill everyone there instantaneously.

Inside this light was a figure. A man in a heavy black traveling cloak. The man's face showed signs of past torments hidden away easily and accentuated his deadly psyche. His hair was neatly kempt. Devilishly dark strands flowed from his head straight to the sky and formed into tightly spun spikes. The hair seemed to be plastered into its shape by some unknown substance. The length of his hair was about the size of a hand in its teenage years. His broad shoulders showed off his immense physical strength. This man was the one known as Darrius.

As the simple beings around Darrius clashed with vicious intent, he stood calmly in the center of his killing spell. He had arrived several days ago, when the battle had first begun, and stood in the spot he was in now. He immediately began the long string of chanting and meditating required to cast such a horrendously powerful spell. His studies in the Dark Arts were tedious. He knew almost every spell by heart and could cast every one of them at the same time. His mana well, the source of every being's magic and physical power, was enormous. He was the legendary sorcerer that everyone had feared would one day be born.

Darrius opened his eyes. The pinkish light danced within his smoky pupils. The reason for the color of his eyes was simple. A spell imbedded into his mana well gave him the ability to see in the dark or far away. The eyes of a hawk and owl came in handy. Darrius's eyes were seductively deadly in that a simple look could cause a man to freeze in his tracks out of fear. Darrius usually kept his eyes covered with a pair of goggles his father had given him when he was a boy.

He grinned maliciously and uttered a few more words in the tongue of the Arts. All Black magic and Devil magic was spoken in the tongue of the Arts. The language was insanely complicated and the translations came out so disturbingly horrific that very few ever lived to speak a translation of even the cutest Black magic spell. Translators of the spells were often plagued by graphic thoughts of suicide and murder; often these fantasies were fulfilled.

Darrius was different from other translators. He had translated every spell in the evil tongue and never once thought of suicide. Of course his murderous tendencies were already at a level beyond comprehension, but he had never contemplated suicide.

Darrius reached outward with his hands, palms upward. He retracted each of his fingers but the middle and pointer, and even then the fingers were only half folded. His thumbs hugged to his hands tightly. He opened his arms wide, his arms kept straight and his palms straighter. His mouth opened and whispered in the Devil's language. His lips and tongue slipped and opened in amazing speed and cooperative action. His jaw seemed to have snapped off and dislocated itself, allowing supreme control over every single syllable.

After a few moments his mouth shut tightly. He threw his head back and gazed upward at the sun. From inside his weapon it appeared to be a solid pink sphere floating in a softer colored ocean. His mouth twisted into a smile of pure hatred and evil. Slowly, his feet lifted from the ground, falling slack under his legs. His gaze still locked on the sun, Darrius translated the last line of the spell out loud.

His voice seemed almost soft and gently, the voice of a hero, but he was the exact opposite of this. "Under this flaming sea of despair and wretchedness, I summon forth my greatest foe and dearest friend. The life and death of each of the beings involved will rupture the evil spilling forth from the minds of children as they shriek with horror that their dearest family have fallen to this wound called death. And with the final breath of you all, I name thy killer. Undra Flare."

The ball around Darrius swelled to a hundred times its normal size. Magic, spears, and arrows all repelled from the deadly machine floating above the fighting races. Many tried to flee, but in vein. The orb burst outward without rupturing. The great growth of the object engulfed the sky with its light. The heat poured off of the weapon as it grew more rapidly. A single touch and flesh and bone were incinerated excruciatingly. The pure raw magic that flowed around the air seemed to repel everything natural, but anything with flesh was destroyed without mercy.

Darrius began to spin at a divine speed. A normal body would have been blown to pieces by the force of gravity pulling at the skin from all directions. His body slowly curled up, as if cowering from the horrors to come. The spell and Darrius stopped spinning almost immediately. Darrius retook his stance with his arms outstretched and palms outward and fingers to the sun. The orb vanished.

Those on the ground who had not been eaten to the bone by the magic stared in awe. The spectacle seemed capable and willing to eliminate every single one of them, but it didn't. They slowly approached Darrius with caution. The races had all stopped fighting to unite against this common enemy. Darrius drooped his head to the onlookers closing in around him.

Someone loosed an arrow. The speedy wooden shaft with steel tip flew toward its target in Darrius's breast. The arrow stopped in air and snapped in two not even close to him. Soldiers closed in on Darrius and came to a barrier orb. It was invisible and impenetrable. Darrius's dark grin and hellish eyes showed proof to the warriors that they had made a fatal mistake. Chaos and panic erupted as Darrius raised his hands to the sky. With his wrists connected, palms flat to space, and fingers curled in grotesque deadly intent, he began to chuckle. It was not a happy chuckle, nor one out of anger; it was the laugh of insanity gripping his mind.

A giant cover formed over the battlefield that stretched on for miles. The blanket seemed to be pure energy from the orb, sharing the same coloring. It lowered swiftly, touching the solid earth only to vanish.

There was nothing left on the field of so many deaths. Not a single bone nor piece of armor remained after the fight. No swords, bows, shields, nothing at all. The once bloody arena of warfare was wiped clean of everything. There wasn't even a soul left to haunt the site.

Chapter One

Aresia sat on a crumpled stone pillar in the middle of his homeland. He gazed out over the horizon, toward the oceans and forests and monsters. He was a mischievous child, always thinking about adventure instead of studying the Light Arts. His parents wanted him to become healing magician, or a white mage. White mages were respected members of society because they knew every way to heal anything. From breaks to sprains, death to a cold, white mages could get rid of it all. Aresia, of course, was more interested in the destructive Black Arts. He wanted to become a Hell mage, not some wimp in white robes who ran around giving cures to the sick. He wanted the raven black robes and the devilish staves and the awesome powers.

His parents denied him this privilege.

The crumbled pillar he sat on was one of ten forming a circle. The circle, according to legend, marked the tomb of a wondrous weapon. The weapon was a staff which contained the wisdom of the most powerful white mages and Hell mages to ever live. This was only a legend though. Many a seeker had come in the years past to dig up and keep this treasure, and none succeeded. The digging was pointless anyway. Over the soil for several feet lay stone slabs that weighed several hundred pounds each. Under those slabs lie about seven hundred feet of lime rock. It would take massive manpower and a few years to just get to the dirt. The digging was just a waste of time.

But, of course, according to legend, only a person with the Gods' amount of mana would be able to wield the weapon. Texts say that the staff cannot be reached by digging, but by a great spell cast by a child who controlled the mana well of the Gods. Aresia had tried every spell he knew, but to no avail. The wonders of Black Arts would never be his.

"Aresia!" someone called his name. He turned his head to the voice and found his friend Reiki waving to him. Her gentle voice seemed to echo in his mind and he smiled warmly at her. "Hurry up you bum, or we'll be late for class!"

Aresia sighed heavily and hopped down from the pillar. His pillar was the tallest. When he was a child, Aresia had made a deal with his parents that if he were to climb the tallest of the pillars, they would let him be a Hell mage. He accomplished it, and they denied his little contract with them. Aresia was always feeling depressed. There was usually nothing happy in his life. He had no siblings, his parents were always fighting, and his only friend was the master of the white mage class.

Aresia had it worst of all the children in Cario village. Being an outcast was something he tried to make into a happy time, but it never seemed to do him any good. He was a failure at almost everything. In classes he barely learned how to heal a scratch. And that took him almost four weeks. Reiki did it in ten seconds.

Aresia's feet hit the slab floor below his pillar after a few seconds of falling. He turned around and looked at what he had accomplished so long ago and every day. The single stone column stood almost four hundred feet in the air at the top. There were no grooves in the side, making climbing almost impossible. Aresia had first tried to climb by leaping back and forth between columns until he got to the top. This did not work, each tower being a totally different height by almost twenty feet exactly. He soon just decided to climb up from the bottom. He started this feat when he was six. He was now sixteen. He had finally reached the top when he was about fourteen. He never stopped climbing it, every day and night.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Aresia shouted to Reiki as he walked slowly up the hill behind the circle. His voice was childish, always had been. He had the voice of innocence, the voice of a young boy with no time to work, only play.

Aresia stuffed his hands into the pockets of his bulky white robes. His hands ran over his little trinket: a small silver coin with writing scrawled onto it. His father had given him this too. He had said that the coin belonged to a great man named... who cares what his name was, the guy was dead already. Strips of red stitching swirled over his robe, making decorative patterns. The red gave an illusion that it was swirling from his back, when in truth the red stopped at the stitching in his sides. In the center of his chest, the crimson colors swirled into a symbol, showing off the fact that he was a white mage. All healing magicians had to wear this symbol somewhere on their body, and all the ones in training had to wear them on the chest. On his head was a white cap. A covering form of cloth that simply looked like a bowl if taken off. Along the brim was more red. The hat covered Aresia's wild blond hair that stood on edge in spikes, all going back at an angle. His eyes were his best feature, to him. Aresia's pupils were totally black. There was no color to them at all. Around his eyes was a natural darkness that was there no matter how many times he washed his face. He didn't fit in with his eyes and these clothes.

Once up the sandy hill, he looked over the village. The village was surrounded by a giant hill with only one entrance and exit. This natural barrier made it a pretty safe place to live, despite the fact that the worst thing that ever happened was a Hell mage in training accidentally blowing up a chicken.

The roofs of houses were colored brightly and every house stood out, making the over view of the town into a rainbow. Aresia grumbled and ran to catch up with Reiki.

Her outfit was exactly the same, but her hat had a tail thing on it. The tail was just a decoration to make her hat look better and not so plain. At the tip of the tail was a small red ball. The only color white mages were allowed to wear was white and red with black shoes. The white mage shoes were the most annoying of any piece of clothing. They had long toes that curled up at the tip and rolled it a curl. The tip had a small silver bell on it that only chimed when the mage was tapping into their powers.

Aresia's bell chimed with every step for some reason. It had always done that, so everyone knew when he was around. At first the class-master had thought his shoes were defective, but it happened with every pair Aresia received. Finally the class-master gave up and allowed Aresia to wear shoes as long as he tried to move as little as possible.

Aresia ran up behind Reiki who stood still, staring up at the sky. He poked her in the shoulder with a finger.

"Hey, what's with you? We're gonna be late to class if you don't hurry, Reiki." He laughed and prodded her again. "Hey."

His eyes followed hers from her face. She wore an expression of total shock. Her green eyes were so wide he feared they might pop from her head. Her soft face which was usually pinkish was now flushed white.

Aresia turned and looked up. The sun was to his back, so there was no glint in his eyes. His mouth fell open and his eyes bulged with awe.

A figure hovered above with hellish black cloaking and giant raven wings elongating from his back. A hood shrouded his face, but Aresia felt into the depths of his mana well. Flight on wings required amazing amounts of mana with each flap, and yet he seemed to not even be weary. There was no bottom to his mana. It was limitless. The man pointed a finger to Reiki. The tip of the finger began to glow a deep blue as a ball of Devil magic materialized on his finger.

Aresia looked back to Reiki to find her paralyzed in fear. He looked back to the man.

A vicious voice sounded from under the hood. "Orion blast." The calm naming of his weapon warned Aresia that Reiki was in danger.

Aresia quivered in fear. He didn't want to loose his only friend to some psycho with a magic fingertip. He wanted to save her... but how?

Aresia shoved Reiki out of the way just as the beam fired from the figure's finger. The weapon shot in a straight, thin line. The original target was replaced by Aresia. As Aresia stared at the spell, he realized that the beam was only going to hit Reiki in the shoulder, but it would hit him in the heart.

Rage boiled over in him at his stupidity and his weakness. His whole being seemed to be on fire with anger. Aresia was angry at himself, yet happy that he could save his friend and be cool, if only for a moment.

Reiki fell to the ground when Aresia threw her aside just as the man unleashed his spell. She had no time to respond. She sat on the dirty ground for only a second before the beam struck Aresia through the heart. His eyes closed in pain and then opened in surprise as the recoil knocked him from his feet. His body was hurled backward, rolling violently before coming to a stop.

Reiki kept her eyes on Aresia and held a hand to her face to still her quivering lip. Her body shook with sadness. Her closest friend lay now on the ground, dead because of a stranger on a killing spree. She was alive because of him.

Reiki started for Aresia, when she noticed something.

Aresia's hand had moved.

Reiki watched him climb to his feet slowly, his knees shaking during his climb.

Aresia stood now on his feet, his back to the assailant and Reiki. His rage was insane at the moment. Just before the beam hit, a Dark magic spell burst from his soul and deflected the beam around him. The spell was not quick enough to grow out very far, so the blast still hit him hard enough to break two ribs and send him backward.

The air around him seemed to shimmer as he tapped into his mana well. The bells on his shoes were shaking so rapidly, they shattered to magic dust. Aresia gritted his teeth and breathed heavily. He suspected that his ribs would take him off of his feet soon, so he would have to cast one last spell quickly.

He shuffled his feet to turn around and face his opponent. He glared at the figure fluttering in the air. Aresia put his hands together in a prayer-like stance and twined his fingers together, leaving the pointer and middle fingers on each hand pointing up and pressing them together. His mouth became slack as his tongue and jaw fluttered. Whispers and hisses rang from his mouth. He seemed to immediately know several Hell mage spells. He stopped speaking and tilted his fingers to the figure. A malicious grin spread across his face.

"Body blast." With that, the figure in the sky suddenly exploded, spraying blood and gore in every direction. His flesh was shredded instantly and his cloths were incinerated by the heat of the blast. Crimson life fluid splashed downward on Aresia. He ran to Reiki and covered her to prevent her from being covered in the blood of a man.

He closed his eyes tight and covered her with all his form. The sloshes of blood slapped his back ferociously as if it were the figure's last attempt to eliminate Reiki. Aresia gritted his teeth. His ears rang violently, blocking his hearing. He could barely hear it, but Reiki seemed to be talking to him. He tilted his head down and looked at her.

The slapping stopped, so he rose from her. He clutched at his chest and closed an eye in pain. Reiki moved her mouth, attempting to communicate with him, but his ears were ringing so loud he couldn't hear anything.

Villagers rushed in around the two to see the white mage who had used a Devil magic spell. Aresia's chest burned intensely. He lost his balance and fell to his knees. He groaned and tried to rise again, but the searing pain in his chest would not allow it.

Reiki ran to his side and began shouting to him. Her cries sounded like whispers. "Are you all right? Aresia! Answer me!"

He opened his mouth to answer, but everything began to swim around him. He fell to his side and slowly closed his eyes, becoming unconscious. People swarmed in around him. White and red and pale brown was all he could see. Once his eyes were closed he saw a new color. Not the normal black, but a dull but vibrant green. The forest-like color seemed to invite him into the warm and soft sleep he drifted into.

Reiki panicked. She had no idea what wounds Aresia had, and she didn't know the spell to find out what wounds he had. She yelled to him, trying to keep him awake, but it was no use. Aresia passed out cold.

Reiki looked around frantically and called out for the class-master. Master Friedor came rushing from the front of the building in a hurry. He pushed people out of the way and dropped to his knees beside Aresia. His hands waved over the child's battered body. The palms of his hands glowed a deep violet, which Reiki recognized as the Lotus Bud spell. The Lotus Bud spell allowed one to see any injuries in a body.

Master Friedor snapped his fingers and a small yellow light formed over Aresia's limp form. The small illumination slowly slipped down into Aresia's waist and entered him through his clothing. This was the spell Matter Mend. It healed broken and fractured bones and some vital organs.

As Master Friedor rose, he spoke softly to Reiki. "Child," he said firmly. "You must get Aresia to his family immediately. His mana well is swollen."

Reiki looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean 'swollen?'"

The ancient man with hundreds of wrinkles on his dust pale face turned to her. In his eyes were crystallized drops of water. A tear rolled down his folded face and fell to the sandy ground. "The child has built up an enormous amount of mana in his body almost spontaneously. His mana well is only able to hold twelve derigs of mana, however he now has over seven hundred thousand derigs of mana in his well right now. As I said, his mana well is swollen. It will burst soon if he doesn't use a high level forbidden spell. But the forbidden spells are Black magic and he is a white mage. Reiki. Aresia is going to die."

Reiki stared at him in disbelief. Her eyes were puffed with tears and wide in surprise. Her body trembled as she tried to comprehend this. "D... Die?" she sputtered. "Aresia... can't die... He's my best friend..." She began wailing and threw herself into Master Friedor's arms. His protective grasp formed in around her.

"Stop your crying, child!" came a voice from behind the crowd.

Reiki's sobs stopped and she turned to the voice. The faces of the villagers all turned to face the man who had spoken. He stood on the roof of a house, proud and tall was his form. A deep forest green traveling cloak billowed behind him in the desert wind. From the nose down his face was covered, and black sand goggles shielded his eyes. The deep tint blocked all perception on his eyes. Sand goggles were worn in the desert to cover one's eyes from the ripping dust in the open. On his back was a sword. Although she could only see the handle, Reiki knew the sword had touched itself in violence. There seemed to be a wafting aura about him with the same color as his cloak but lighter.

"Who are you to tell the child to stop?" Master Friedor cried out in protest. "Her closest friend is about to die! She has more right than anyone here to cry!"

The man scoffed at the class-master. "There is no need for tears over things not lost."

Everyone began chattering in confusion about the man's comment. Worried and hushed rumors quickly spread through the small mob of villagers.

"The child is not dead yet. There is no reason for her sniveling when I could easily save the boy."

"Now that is just about enou-"Master Friedor began.

Reiki rushed from the ancient one's grasp. "Then why do you do nothing, stranger? If you can save a life would you not take that advantage and heal the dying?"

The man stared down at her and reached over his shoulder. His gloved fingers ran over the hilt of his weapon. He vanished. He was instantly next to Aresia's soon to be corpse. The ring of steel fumed through the ears of the crowd as the turned to see what was happening. Reiki turned to find the man on one knee with his blade lifted over his head.

Her eyes widened with fear as the blade plunged downward to Aresia. The blade vanished. The hilt remained in the man's hands and the part that held the blade was pressed against Aresia's waist.

Everyone stared at him in amazement. The man climbed to his feet slowly, pulling the hilt from Aresia's side vertically. He swung his hand twice and the blade appeared once more. The crowd gasped.

"My name is Bohis. This is my weapon, the mythril blade, Gastank. This sword cannot harm anything living; instead it restores total control over the target's body to the target. I have saved your child."

At that moment, Aresia's breathing leveled out. His mana well was checked once more by the class-master. It had grown to fit in the excessive power he had gained so suddenly.

Everything was fine now because of Bohis. He had saved Aresia. Reiki smiled at Bohis who then scoffed at her and turned away.

"Where do you think you're going, mister?" Reiki yelled at him before he could leave.

Bohis turned to her, his blade replaced in its sheath, but his hand still gripping it. "I'm going to meet your town elder and demand payment for a bounty."

Bohis was a bounty hunter? Those weren't too common in Azrael now. Bounty hunters were hired by towns, villages, cities, even countries, to "take care of" problem causers.

There were three countries on Azrael. The first and largest was Kristnacht. Kristnacht held several large cities and hundreds of villages. Kristnacht was especially famous for its white and Hell mage population. This country also held Reiki and Aresia's home village, Cario. The country was popular to humans because there were few demons around since the giant battle at Deri Crater. Krist means godly and nacht means desert. The second largest country was Gretznad. Gretznad was a mostly forest country and was heavily populated by elves and sorcerers. Sorcerers were not human, though they put on the illusion of being it. They were actually human-elf half-breeds with a taint in their blood that gave them the ferocity of demons. Gretznad was very famous for its annual Gretz Hunt. A gretz was a fox-like creature. It was several times the size of a fox, however. Gretz means wolf and nad means land. The final country of the land of Azrael was Lerim. Lerim is the demon tongue for demon. With a name like this, everyone but demons avoided going near the place. Mostly boggy and wooded areas filled Lerim.

"Bohis," Reiki began. "What mage class and skill level are you?"

The devilish hero turned to Reiki. His hair was a burning red that seemed to morph in the desert sun. "I'm a Class Double S, Black mage."

Reiki gasped in disbelief.

There were levels of ranking that mages went through to keep track of each country's mage skill. The classes were chosen depending on the strongest spell you could use. Spells too had ranks in this way. The ranks were SS, AA, A, B, C, and Failure. SS class mages were extremely rare because they were required to have a genetic pattern in their blood line that allowed them to hold such giant mana wells required for the spells they cast. Bohis probably had a mana well level of 10. Mana well levels were recorded on a scale of one to fifteen, fifteen being the deepest mana well. If you wanted to figure out how much mana the person could have, you would multiply the persons mana well level by itself that many times. So for example, Bohis's mana well would be 1010. That means he could have a mana well so large, that he would never run out if he were to cast lower level spells.

Most SS class mages had at least an 8 for mana level, but 10 was superb. The only person ever recorded to have a 15 was the one who caused the great slaughter at Deri Crater. His name was Darrius.

"What level mana well do you have?" Reiki poked questions at him to get to know him better. After all, he did save her friend.

He paused for a time before giving an answer. "My mana well level is thirteen, a high thirteen, almost a fourteen."

Reiki once more stared at him in disbelief. "You must be joking?"

Bohis shrugged and started off again toward the village elder's home.

A thirteen mana well... There's never been a recorded thirteen or fourteen until now. Could he be lying?

Reiki ran back to Aresia's side. She lifted him in her arms and began the walk to his home.

Chapter 2

The shadows of his room cast a shroud around his bed. The comfortable blanket and cushioned mattress beneath him supported his weary body. Voices spilled through his mind. They told him to do things, horrible things, in tongue. Every word that came into his spirit through the body-less noises seemed to push his sense of judgment farther back into the shadows. His arms guided his hands from under the covering cloth and to his skull. He clutched his head tightly and gritted his teeth. His eyes closed in frustration as he tried to block out the whispers, the shouts, and the screams.

Aresia sat up and looked around for some way to explain the subliminal messages that had been fed directly into his brain. His gaze fell over the multiple scrolls bound in magic string and the dirty clothes scattered about on the floor of his barren room.

His family was poor. He had never had anything he ever wanted before. Everything he received for enjoyment was a gift from people who showered his parents and himself in pity. It disgusted him to be looked down on.

Nothing was in his room except for scrolls he had gotten from Reiki or the class-master. What little clothing he had was folded neatly in a small pile by his bed. Moonlight poured into the room and scattered frantically across the floor of his room. The night sky was empty except for stars and the... two moons? There had never been two moons in the sky before. There was the normal bluish moon that appeared to be a soft little fluff ball. Then there was the new moon. Blood red and glowing, it seemed to have spikes of blood bursting from its edges.

Aresia carried himself away from his slumber and toward the balcony window. He threw open the large plate glass window violently. The sounds of shattering melted sand erupted into his room that he left behind. Aresia stepped to the end of the catwalk and stared at the bloody rock in the darkness above him. It showed itself to be enormous, inviting him inside of its warm glowing magnitude.

The steel rail that wrapped around the edge of the catwalk seized Aresia's legs and allowed no further movement. He broke his gleeful sight from the grasping moon and glowered at the thin railing between himself and his goal. In rage, his arms rose upward and came down again, driving the metal downward. Under the stress of such a blow, the steel bent and snapped. The stone beneath his feet crumbled and collapsed.

The sudden drop did not faze Aresia. His form floated on a cloud of mana. He stepped toward the great shape above him and his mana burst from beneath his feet to catch him. His shorts flapped in the wind that exploded from such a powerful shockwave of magical energies. The bandages around his flat mid-section ripped and tore as the winds lacerated non-organic objects on his body. His shorts ripped in the winds, but nothing more. The tattered clothing clung to his body, holding on to keep him covered.

Bohis sat at the riverbank. His eyes focused on the monumental circle of pillars across the shimmering water. The giant sandstone columns rose proudly to the two-mooned night sky. The sand goggles over his eyes reflected the vibrant lights as they announced their presence in the glimmering black overhead.

A small forced sound crept from his lungs. A simple mocking grunt. A thin smile spread over Bohis's veiled lips.

"This is the night," he said to himself. "This is the night of legend. The night of two moons and the awakening of the savior. What a crock of shit. We've got the two moons, but the 'savior' has yet to show up. I hope you don't disappoint me, old man."

Earlier that day Bohis had met with the village elder. The man continued to say things about the legends of the village. Bohis didn't mind the educational material; it was just that he had other bounties to deal with.

Bohis reached into his travel cloak and gripped the handle of his knife. The leather wrapped shaft of steel felt warm in his gloved hands. The warmth seemed to pulsate through his bones, flowing over him in a relaxing rush.

The knife had been a "gift" from one of his first bounties. He pried it from the fingers of a murderer with a simple illusionary spell. Turning the man in gained him the knife in his sash and a hefty bounty of twenty gold coins. The gold kept him rich for a while, but once he paid the white mage who healed him, his riches were almost totally gone. The murderer who owned the knife hunted magic users. The knife pulsated rapidly when magic was being used nearby. The temperature of the handle also rose rapidly the closer to the spell the weapon was. Eventually the weapon was unusable unless the possessor was capable of withstanding great burns in their hands.

The gloves Bohis wore prevented his hands from being melted by the heat the knife emitted. The knife's ability to set itself aflame with no mana usage made it a powerful tool for bounty hunting. Magic users often mistook it as a spell and assumed that he was using mana. The few spells that allowed things to be set aflame and held without burning the wielder's flesh cost excruciating amounts of mana.

The cool desert sand beneath Bohis shifted with his movements. From atop the hill, he had an overlook on the Creator's Bed. The village elder called the circle of pillars this, stating that thousands of mages built this area for the gods to rest in.

Bohis wondered exactly how powerful the mages of old could have been if it took more than one of them to carve sandstone slabs from the ground and shape them into columns.

Reiki lie in her bed with her eyes open. She stared at the ceiling above her and thought about Aresia. The image of him throwing her aside and taking her place for an almost certain death replayed over and over in her memory. Each time she reviewed the event, the more confused she became. She questioned how Aresia's mana pool could have grown so exponentially so quickly. She tossed and turned, trying to remove the thoughts from her mind, but the persisted.

She finally gave in and decided to go outside to clear her mind. She decided to go to Aresia's favorite spot and just think.

She threw her blankets away from her and swung her legs over the side of her bed. She slipped off of the side and stood on the wood floor.

The wind blew through her open window, rustling her nightgown. The silk fabrics waved in the gust. The light pink fabric shone in the light from the moons. She hadn't noticed the dual moons yet.

She walked down the dimly lit streets, past the enclosed homes full of happy families all snug in their cozy beds. She walked out of the good part of town, where the homes were freshly painted and solid as steel, and into the bad part of Cario. She pulled her nightgown closer to defend from the frigid night winds. The lights went out and the shroud of darkness enveloped her the closer she came to Aresia's home. She would stop by to check up on him and then continue onward.

Watching her feet slap the cold cobblestones of the street, Reiki wondered why what happened earlier even occurred. The picture of Aresia throwing her aside, maybe saving her life, skipped through her thoughts. His movements seemed liquefied, almost subconscious. His response to danger was like a gut reaction, instinctive.

Reiki shoved those thoughts out of her mind when she discovered she was blushing. Why should she blush? It's not like she had a crush on him... did she? Reiki's heart pounded with each step that carried her closer to Aresia.

She felt a twinge in the air.

Reiki had always been able to sense mana usage. Her senses were going insane, mana leaking from her without her consent. Her breathing became erratic from the effort. Her mana continued to gush from her body as she tried to stop it. Someone nearby was using a mana-siphoning spell. She looked around, trying to find the person using the nearly forbidden magic.

Her eyes went to the sky. Immediately above her was a figure. His body walked across the sky with ease. Mana wells had to be excruciatingly enormous to allow walking in air. Her eyes darted over the figure, trying to discover whether or not it was human.

Her eyes fluttered with exhaustion, her mana coming to its last drops. Her knees became gooey, making standing into a horrible effort. Her legs gave out and she came to the ground hard.

Lying on her side, her eyes followed the slow march of the man in the sky. For a moment she saw the aura of mana creating a torrent in the air around him. Slow, creeping dark overcame her, her eyes drooping into her tired state of sleep. Her mana was totally gone, her well exhausted more than any of her studies had ever pushed her. She slept, but not peacefully. Thoughts of fire arose in her dreams.

Chapter 3

Aresia's body floated just above the Creator's Bed. The giant pillars rose upward, trying to touch him. Voices spewed commands into his heart, telling him what to do now.

Cast the spell, Aresia. Use the magic infused in your soul to awaken the gods. Cast, cast, cast. Spell, spell, spell. The words repeated over and over in his mind, cast the spell. But what spell? Aresia had no idea which spell to use. His mind raced, trying to discover an answer to the voices beckoning. He began frantically casting white magic spells, but to no avail. The voices became louder and faster. The calm whispers changed to terrifying roars. Aresia began screaming in response to the voices, trying to find an answer to their desires.

Use the spell, Aresia. The spell you used so long ago. The ancient spell. Use it!

The shouts demanded that he obey. He tried to remember, searched with all his heart to find out what the voices wanted.

Do it now, child! Use your magic and do it! Use the spell to awaken the gods! Now!

The clouds were suddenly gone and Aresia understood. The spell was not one he had ever known before, but he suddenly knew it. The Creator's spell... The spell that could awaken the most powerful creature ever seen on the planet. The gods would be awakened. Here and now.

Aresia raised his arms to the screaming moon of crimson. His mouth became slack as whispers and hisses burst from his vocal cords. The high-speed language seemed to kick up a horrible storm around him. The sands surrounding the Creator's Bed burst upward and swirled in a slow but deadly fast tornado-like motion. Aresia's body seemed untouchable to these sands. The pillars snapped and crumbled. The current of the winds collided together, creating bursts of killer air. The pillars were ripped to pieces, jagged rocks floating skyward with amazing speed.

The boy lowered his arms and, just as quickly as they began, the winds died off.

What little was left of the pillars lay in a crumbled pile of rubble below him. The sands around the sandstone slab were thrown in elaborate designs about the area, like runes formed for a great summoning spell.

Aresia cringed when he felt a prick in his hand. He held his arm to the light of the twin moons so he could see what had occurred. A thin line of blood trickled from his open palm down to his wrist. There it split into branches of wondrous designs, flowing up his arm, across his back, down his chest, over his other arm, and down his legs. He gazed at the magic in surprise as the perfect drawings covering his body suddenly burst into a blue light. The streaks of shimmering shine stretched from his figure, reaching outward. The blue changed to yellow, red, orange, violet, and multiple other colors. His eyes danced excitedly as he glowed.

The ground beneath him rumbled and split open, revealing a dark hole in the ground. The dark below him frightened Aresia. It seemed to be a black so dark, only pure evil could lie beneath it. His mana well lowered him toward the pit without his command. Fear rushed over him like a billion tiny jagged icicles. His eyes darted for something to grab, some sort of foothold for him to stop his descent. There was none.

As his body sunk lower into the grasping darkness, his heart slammed against his ribs frantically. His became sharp gasps and small exhales. His eyes were wide with fright at what could wait for him in those demon-like shadows. The thoughts that surrounded his mind were more terrifying than the pit itself.

Bohis had noticed the sands and stood to watch the dazzling portrayal of force. He now watched the glowing body of a child lower into the ground. He would have to go now or forever lose his chance.

His feet moved swifter than the fastest animal. He ran across the water better than any beetle. The water rippled with the light touch of his feet. He moved so quickly, that not even the wind could keep up with him. His mana drained slowly as the spell coursed through his muscles, allowing movements to exceed the speed of thoughts. Before a single second passed, Bohis was on the other side of the river.

His eyes followed the color-changing child into the pit that had opened up. Bohis ran to the edge of the sandstone hole and peered downward. He watched the child's body light up the walls surrounding him. Artful runes had been etched into the sandstone. The flawless runes and seals were so perfect that magic had to have been used to create them. So much mana would have to be used that one person could never had created it.

"So this is what the mages of old wasted there time doing? Creating seals for some underground chamber? Breath taking."

Bohis took a deep breath and leapt down into the awaiting cavern. His cloak billowed upward with the wind as he fell. Every few seconds he released a puff of mana from his feet to slow his fall to a less fatal impact. As he watched beneath him, a small light, like fire, came into view. He slowed his drop once more and let himself fall as fast as he would. His feet landed on a sandstone floor softly, as if he hadn't fallen more than a few inches. His head was directed to the floor. He slowly raised his gaze to what could be creating the fire-like light.

Before him was a giant chamber with numerous torches hanging from the walls. The entire room seemed to be put together brick by brick. At the very front of the room sat a giant statue of the great god and creator, Arena. The giant figure sat in a throne of sandstone, as if the whole thing had been carved right from the wall. The child who had opened the sealed chamber stood a few feet away from the enormous god.

He figured that the area around it was a giant block of sandstone with a single chimney-like opening at the top. The 'door' only opened to a certain spell because of all of the seals and runes. If the spell was not cast and instead the door was attempted to be opened by brute force, the sandstone chamber would simply sink lower and prevent entry.

Bohis climbed to his feet and began the walk to he god's feet. He stepped slowly, trying to read each and every seal and rune etched into the walls. So much work went into the beautiful golden pit that he wanted to read the last words of the artists.

The familiar ring of steel rang out and echoed from every wall around him. His eyes darted to the feet of the god. He watched the child's right arm raise, brandishing a sword. Bohis's first reaction was to reach for his knife, but he resisted.

Aresia held the weapon in his clenched fist as tears of joy flowed down his face. He had finally accomplished what none would ever do. He had in his possession the legendary weapon of the gods. It was his to keep. His mind filled with the knowledge of every spell ever in existence. He was all-powerful.

"Congratulations, boy," someone chimed from behind him. "You have achieved your goal and gotten what you wanted. Now, however, I shall be taking that from you. I apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you, but you will not be leaving with that sword."

Aresia clenched his teeth with fury. His face scrunched into a look of pure anger. His teeth seemed to sharpen and his fists became tighter. He had finally become powerful and someone had to come take it away. He would not let them take that from him.

He turned to face his opponent and found a simple traveler. If this man thought he could take Aresia on by himself, he would die. Aresia realized he was thinking of himself in the third person. He wondered if he had lost his mind for a moment and then turned his thoughts to the more important matter before him.

Aresia felt himself overcome with a passionate hatred for the man before him. He remembered him from somewhere, but had no idea where. He brushed away the memories and ran at the man, sword poised in an attack. His hands gripped the sword, positioning the blade vertically, killing edge turned to his enemy.

Bohis watched the speedy young boy closely, observing all of the flaws in his step. He used no mana in his quick dash, a flaw that Bohis could work to his advantage. He had no mana being used at all. Bohis could let loose a tiny bit of mana and send the boy flying.

He thrust a single hand outward, releasing a small burst of mana. The air in the path of his hand warped into what appeared to be a fireball of clear morphed gas.

The boy swung his blade downward on the puff of mana, slicing it directly in half.

Bohis glared as the boy twisted the blade, losing no momentum in the smashing impact the blade created. The sandstone smashed and crushed under the power of the weapon. With the weapon held to his side, blade at his back, Bohis knew the next swing would be horizontal.

He guessed wrong.

The child lowered the sword, the deadly tip dragging across the sandstone floor, creating a stream of sparks behind him. Bohis's eyes opened wide as the child unleashed a powerful stream of mana into his upward swing.

The sparks became a stream of sandstone shrapnel as the shockwave of the momentum continued onward without the blade leading it.

Bohis crossed his arms and jumped to the side, narrowly missing the killing burst, only to have another blast of rock and dust thrown at him. His hand caught the floor and used his own momentum to throw himself out of the way of the second blast. He landed on his shoulder and rolled along the ground. He had thrown himself to hard and couldn't stop his tumble. His body slammed hard into the sandstone wall, knocking the wind from his lungs.

This child was not to be taken lightly anymore.

Bohis reached into his cloak and grabbed his knife. He pulled the trusty blade free of its sheath and unleashed his own storm of mana. He figured his well was definitely deeper than the youngster's, so he allowed his mana to explode from his body.

As he climbed to his feet, the dust created from the shrapnel blasts began to swirl about him in the form of small tornados. There were about eight of the wind tunnels, plenty to destroy the troublesome child. Bohis vanished from the eyes of the boy, using such a great amount of mana to move, that he could not be seen.

He ran up the wall closest to him and across the great ceiling and came down on the boy. The decoy twisters blasted off in separate directions, all swirling violently in random directions, but all coming at the young one below now Bohis.

He brandished his knife and thought of bringing the tip down in the skull of the meddlesome one, but changed his mind to instead bring his elbow down on him and knock him unconscious. His arm curled, his elbow lined up with a spot on the boy's head. He let out some mana to make sure to knock the child out cold.

Aresia quaked in fear when he felt the crackle of air around him. He knew immediately that the man was above him and was using mana. The tornados of dust were just decoys to keep him busy. The mana used to create them was not near enough to even knock him out. However, with his foe above him, Aresia could only do one thing.

He crouched slightly so his enemy would not notice it. He dove to the side and screamed in pain when he realized the mistake he had made.

Bohis watched his elbow connect not with the boy's skull, but his shoulder. He cringed as he heard the bones snap painfully. The hand released the sword, dropping it to the floor with a clanging sound. Bohis pushed off of the boy's shoulder with his elbow and spun artfully in the air, reaching down and grabbing the sword in his twirl.

He landed softly on his feet and turned to leave the chamber of the gods. He grumbled angrily when he sensed the boy healing his arm with his mana. He turned to the boy and met his bare fist with no mana behind it in his turn. His jaw snapped and blood sprayed from his broken mouth. The crimson fluid splattered across the golden floor and soaked into the dry stone.

His body went numb and he was hurled away from the child.

Aresia slumped over and panted heavily, full of hatred and raw rage. His shoulders lifted with each heavy breath. His mana well was almost exhausted. He had nothing left to fight that man with. If he had used even the tiniest amount of mana for that last punch, he would have blacked out on his way out of the giant chamber.

He stepped over to the crumpled and smashed body of the man and knew where he had seen him. This was the man who stretched his mana well enough to keep him alive. This was the man that allowed him to be alive right now. Why would he want to kill him?

Aresia bent to pick up the sword and shrieked in pain as the tip of a deadly knife buried itself his shoulder to the hilt.

He coughed and sputtered, blood slapping the angry face of his assassin in the face before running down his skin with sweat. The man's face was twisted by anger and intent to kill. His teeth were gritted and he emitted a low growling sound. He hand drove the weapon deeper into Aresia's already exhausted and crippled body.

The inside of his wound felt relaxingly warm, however. The blade seemed to throb like a heart and pump a soothing feeling into his body.

Aresia fell back, the knife slipping from his shoulder during his fall. His mouth hung open as his breathing became shallower. It hurt to breath. His body was numb and frigidly cold. He felt as though he had fallen down in a tundra totally nude. His mind switched off, all thoughts gone.

His eyes slammed shut and he fell into a deep sleep. His tense muscles relaxed and the pool of blood around him grew larger as he slowly bled to death.

Bohis groaned and came to his feet. He healed his jaw and then began to leave. He turned his head a bit to take one last look at the boy who had almost defeated him. He drooped the prize over his shoulder and gripped the handle, fearing to lose it. Bohis stepped under the exit and puffed out mana to rocket him out of the room of the ancient mages.

Chapter 4

He chuckled and watched the Creator's Bed closely. Darrius stood on a hill with his back to the small worthless village of guardians. He had been watching Aresia closely for the past few years. Tonight was the night of his seventeenth birthday, the night that he, Darrius, would become the most powerful being in existence once more. Though it had been nearly seven hundred years since Darrius had been at Deri Crater, and almost six hundred years since his death, Darrius had risen to take back his place as a god of death. The form he stood in now was an illusion of his past self. No one knew who he was these days, and he wanted to bring back the fear his name had inflicted once.

Under his illusion, he was a crow. He had the highest amount of mana ever imagined, so he was able to keep his illusion solid for long times without having to replenish his magic. When he needed to recover, he simply became the crow again and slept.

The gods had made a mistake when they allowed him to return to the world of the living again. They had forced his soul into a crow because they feared his power as a human-demon being again.

He waited patiently for one of the two in the pit to come out. He had seen the second man go down, probably after the weapon of the gods like all the others. He wanted to see if Aresia could prove himself and defeat this invader before taking the child's body and making him into a slave.

Darrius wore a large black cloak, covering every shape or object he might be hiding beneath it. His face was covered by the darkness since the moon was at his backside. His eyes shimmered strangely. His eyes were still like a hawk-owl cross breed. The hawk part allowed him to see sharply at great distances and the owl allowed him to see in the night. Darkness and light were no different to him.

He sighed happily when he saw a figure rising from the pit. "Ah. Finally we see who was the victor." He pulled back the sleeves of his cloak, revealing two large steel bracers on each wrist. These bracers deflected mana by tapping into his mana on their own. They were also unbreakable as long as he had mana to use.

"Damn," he muttered as he saw the figure come from the chamber of the gods. "Aresia didn't win. Oh well, this one will have to do, I suppose."

Darrius rose to his feet and began the trek down the sand hill. He was very patient, knowing that he would have what he wanted no matter whom he had to kill. You there!" he called out to the survivor. "Might I have a few words with you?"

The man stopped his steady walk away from the pit he had risen from. He turned to Darrius and he immediately recognized him. This was the offspring from the family of bounty hunters who had killed him. He glowered with hatred at the man before him, making sure them man could not see the angry look. "What is your name, young sir?"

"Bohis," he replied. "Of the Greeta clan of bounty hunters."

Darrius became even angrier just hearing the name. Frishta Greeta was the one who had finally killed him, the only one to ever stand before him in battle. He only had a mana well level of twelve when he attacked Darrius, but he had the weapon of the gods: the Dream sword. That one weapon allowed him knowledge to every spell that could hurt him enough and still only cost a little mana. Darrius cursed the name of the Greeta clan the day that he died. He vowed to take the life of the last survivor.

"Might you be the last of your clan, Bohis?" he questioned.

Bohis lifted the sword from his shoulder and drooped it to his side. "Why is that important to you?"

Darrius grinned. Perfect. He would take care of a promise he made long ago and capture mastery of all magic in the world. Just a few spells and it would be all over. "Bohis, that weapon you hold in your hand. Could it be the legendary Dream sword?"

Bohis glared at him through the sand goggles. Darrius felt the heat of his anger burning from his eyes. He rushed at Darrius without using mana. Darrius wondered why he did not tap such an obviously vast supply of mana.

Bohis knew who his new opponent was just by hearing his voice. His family had told him the story of his ancestor who killed the terror called Darrius so long ago. They described the voice. They said he sounded like a hero, almost a saint. Like a person who would never harm a living being. His parents had said that he hissed when he spoke, almost slurring his words together. Bohis wanted to be a hero like his ancestor. He wanted to be remembered in stories. Even if it cost his own life.

He ran as fast as he could to build a momentum. He wondered if Darrius was wearing sand goggles and figured it wouldn't matter, as long as he was blinded. Bohis slammed his feet into the sand, skidding with his speed. He swung the sword and unleashed a terrible blast of mana. The sand billowed up in a razor cloud and rushed Darrius. Bohis took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, flames gushing from his throat.

The super-heated sand turned to sharp spikes of glass closest to the flames and the grains at the front became very hot needles. Bohis then began his run again, closely following his death shower. His feet flurried without a drop of mana pushing them. He knew Darrius could sense when mana was being used, so he would try avoiding that for now.

Darrius closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. His eyes were immediately shielded by an invisible shield of some kind. No matter how well he could see normally, the sand cloud would block his vision greatly with swirling tumbles. The hot grains smacked into his cloak heavily and scratched his face. He ignored the small pains and kept watching directly ahead of him. He wanted to see if his thoughts were correct.

Bohis leapt into the air, flying ahead of his glass needles. His sword came back over his head and then downward with a great swing.

Aresia opened his eyes groggily and looked around. He was still lying in a pool of his own blood, but he felt fine. His wound was healed and his mana well was full once more. He felt much better than he had when he passed out.

He crawled to his feet, testing his footing. He felt sticky, blood caked to his back. He brushed his shoulders off. He felt groggy and disorientated. The giant room around him seemed to spin. He stepped slowly to the exit. His steps wobbled. He was unable to walk in a straight line.

Aresia walked under the exit hole and let out a large burst of mana, launching him into the air. The wind felt wonderful on his heated body. The cool air of the desert night ran over his sweaty form like a river of cold water. He felt totally relaxed and wide-awake.

His heart jumped when he came to the surface.

Before him was a giant cloud of dust. Some of the cloud seemed to shimmer, like glass. His eyes darted to and fro, searching for the cause of such a dust storm.

Darrius raised his arms and crossed his wrists, creating a shield out of his bracers. The blade slammed powerfully down on the crossed mana shields. He gritted his teeth and tried to resist the power of the blow. His feet sank into the sand with the force driving him back.

Bohis relinquished his attack and dove over Darrius. He vanished once more into the sand cloud. He could come from any direction now with however much force he desired to use.

Darrius had only known when to block because Bohis used a small tap of mana to heat the blade of the sword. He wondered why he would give away his position like that for such a wasteful cause.

Darrius spun around several times, trying to find even the smallest amount of mana being used. He found mana being used, but it was closer to the pit than anything. Why would Bohis be near the pit? Darrius grunted in pain as one of the glass needles slammed into his cloak. The crude glass shattered on the armored fibers of the cloak, but tiny shards still slipped through and cut his skin.

Darrius decided to get out of the cloud as quickly as possible, and the mana being used would be his guiding light to salvation. He began to run, letting out a small drop of mana from his well to increase his speed.

Bohis growled angrily and attacked Darrius as he tried to escape. He swung his blade horizontally, this time putting no mana into his killing move. He aimed for his head, wanting to get this over with swiftly.

Aresia watched the cloud closely and landed on the giant sandstone slab softly, his mana well closing up to conserve power. He wondered what was happening inside such a giant shrapnel storm.

A figure came from the cloud, running toward him with great speed. He felt a surge of mana burst through the air and saw the figure drop to the ground. Flames rocketed from the ground in jagged patterns as the ground shifted and cracked open. The planet itself seemed to be ripping open as mana gushed wildly from inside the cloud. The air shook with a shockwave as the mana flow increased suddenly.

Aresia's eyes opened wide as the sand exploded upward violently. The ground shook with the force of the flames that rocketed from the core.

Bohis had missed Darrius narrowly with the blade and blindly cast his most powerful spell. He summoned the god of Craniu. Craniu was the god of fire who lived in the center of the planet. He was the source of the Greeta clan's power. Fire was the element they treasured most and they used it whenever possible. He muttered the thousands of difficult runes in under three seconds. Driving his fist into the ground, he released an enormous amount of his mana just to rip open the earth to let Craniu begin. Raising his hand created the spewing flames that danced wildly around him, creating a wall of death that swam in a circular motion, sawing through the sand and heating it to molten glass.

Bohis waved his hand about, the flames forming into a giant creature-like shape. He ripped all of the flames from the hole in the ground and commanded the giant creature he adored so much. He enjoyed summoning Craniu very much, fire being what he was raised to use. Before his father died, he summoned Craniu as a last resort. The men who were attacking his family were killed instantly, but so was his family.

Summoning costs every drop of mana that the caster has. One mistake and it could mean your life. Depending on the amount sacrificed to the summoned beast, the beast may be powerful enough to destroy the whole planet. His father had misjudged the death wave the weapon would create. The death wave is what is created when the summoned spell is sent on a straight drop downward on the target. The spell smashes into the enemy, destroying them with a wondrous force, but it also creates a wave of that element. Much like ocean waves, the death wave is simply of a different element.

Bohis would most likely make the same mistake his father had made and the whole village would have to pay for his stupidity. Bohis thrust his hand skyward, sending Craniu high into the dark night. He directed the spell until he figured he was just about over Darrius. Once more he drove his fist into the ground, letting the weapon he loved so much fall from the sky.

He found it ironic that he would suffer the same fate his parents and little sister had. It didn't bother him to die; at least he would destroy Darrius with himself.

Aresia watched the sky dance with the lights created by the flaming dragon. He awed at its splendor as it danced over the town and back to the battlefield.

Darrius watched the spell that came closer to him by the second. It was amazing to see such a magnificent spell, yet disappointing that it would go to waste.

He opened his cloak and gripped the handle of his sword. He swiftly pulled the weapon from the sheath and swung it over his head twenty six times, each swing letting go a blast of mana. The wind became a solid blade of energy and sliced into the creature above him. Screeches sounded its death just as he slid his sword back into the sheath.

The dragon Craniu began to swing madly through the air, flames being throwing this way and that. Giant fireballs landed on the town, setting homes ablaze with the deadly mana-fueled heat. The beast broke up into pieces and threw its corpse in every direction, chunks of flames landing all around.

Aresia saw the summoner go down and remembered that he had the sword. He let his mana well open and rocketed for the collapsing being. He ran to his side and pried his weapon from his hand. He then ran for the town, wanting to get to Reiki.

His feet glided over the sands and he came to Reiki's home in seconds. He kicked in the door and ran to her room on the second floor. He kicked the knob and threw the door open. Her room was empty.

The house must have caught fire when he entered, because the first floor danced orange when the roof collapsed inwardly. He ran to Reiki's balcony and dove out into the street. He ran toward his home, his feet scurrying as his mana pushed him to go faster.

Reiki opened her eyes to a circle of flames around her. She gaped in horror and hugged her legs to her chest as houses crumbled around her. Her body trembled with fear as flaming wood slammed to the ground from all around her.

She was a white mage; she didn't know how to put out fires! She whimpered and screamed when crackling logs landed near her.

"Reiki!" she heard someone call her name. "Reiki, answer me damn it!" It sounded like Aresia.

She called back to him and coughed as the smoke grabbed her lungs. "Aresia! Help me! I'm scared, help me!" She had no words to describe her fear, just that she was 'scared'.

Reiki whimpered and cowered from the flames, hugging her legs to her chest and sitting in the middle of the ring of fire. Her mind raced as she awaited rescue from Aresia. She thought of how heroic he would look bursting through the flames, scooping in his arms and running off into the sunrise and away from the devastated town.

Despite the heat created by the flames, she felt her face become hotter as she thought about how amazing that would be.

Aresia ran to Reiki's shouts and found a giant wall of flames between him and her. Reiki was his only friend, he would not let her die.

Muttering a few words under his breath, he stepped cautiously toward the rubble. He lowered his head and opened his arms, keeping them at his side. His eyes closed slowly and his arms rose to the bloody moon and its twin. The flaming pile of rubble began to shake and rumble. Suddenly the flaming pile launched into the air and was hurled out of the way.

Aresia opened his eyes and ran to Reiki, who sat shivering in fear. He scooped her body up in his arms and began running back to the Creator's Bed. He needed to get her out of the town so he could go back and save as many people as he could.

When he arrived at the ruins of the Creator's Bed, he looked around. He saw no one, and decided Reiki would be safe. He lowered her to her feet and let her stand.

"Reiki," he said half out of breath. "I need to go back. I have to try to save a few people."

Reiki wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. "No!" she interjected. "Don't leave me Aresia! I'm scared to be alone!"

Aresia pulled away and turned to the town. He turned his head back to her. "I'll be back. I promise."

Chapter 5

Aresia opened his eyes and slowly leaned forward. The blanket covering him slumped forward in a wrinkled mess of warmth. He groaned with frustration. His whole body felt heavy, as if he were a pile of bricks. His head was throbbing painfully as he tried to recollect his memories.

Around him was a thin tent used by travelers. He sat on a cot that folded up to make it easier to move. The floor was sandy. At least he knew he hadn't left Kristnacht. A small black scorpion crawled across the sandy ground swiftly. The sunlight that penetrated the fabric of the tent shimmered on the small arachnid's back.

Aresia watched the animal scurry over the hot sands with interest.

Muffled whispers came from outside his tent. He picked up only a few words, none of them making sense. He swung his legs over the edge of his cot and stood. He walked to the side of the small enclosure and leaned in close to the tent. The smell of dry blood wafted through his nostrils.

The tent must have been made from the skin of a frigat. Frigats were small animals that were used for many purposes: milk, leather, and meat. The leather that frigats made was very sturdy, almost as tough as steel.

"He must be awakened soon," a man said, "or he may never rise again."

"What do you want us to do about it?" a second man said.

Multiple cheers and protests came up when the first man gave his answer. "I want you to go in there and shake him from his slumber. We need him now."

Aresia wondered why people would cheer about waking someone up.

The flap of his tent was thrown open and a tall man stepped in. He was covered from head to toe in skulls. Each skull looked almost identical except for a small detail: Each one had a number rune scratched into the top of the bone. The white skulls gave him an eerie look, all of them hanging from his black cloak by chains connecting each skull to all of the others. A black patch that snaked around his head covered his left eye. His other eye was vivid, a bright blue. The hems of his cloak seemed to flare outward. On his back was a large slender black leather sheath. The handle of his weapon hung in the air over his right shoulder. His face was frightfully powerful in appearance, his chin jutting out from the rest of his jaw. He looked like a fearsome foe.

The man turned his head and directed his eye at Aresia. "I see you are awake." It was the voice of the second man he had heard.

Aresia nodded. "I-"

The man interrupted him abruptly. "You will come with me and we shall... 'talk.'"

Aresia stepped away from the growls of the man. His knees shook with fear. "And what if I refuse?"

The single eyes glared at him. He reached out for Aresia's arm. Aresia pulled back. "You shall come with me now."

Suddenly, the tent ripped open. He spun around and found himself surrounded by bandits. The evil grins and glares of such a small force was a bit unnerving. Aresia gulped hard and peered through the small opening the bandits left. The two blocking his full view stepped aside. Aresia's eyes opened wide.

"You bastards..." was the only thing he could say.

Reiki was tied to a wooden pole in the hot desert sun. A white rag covered her mouth and her eyes were closed. Her head was slumped to the side, her hair falling in her face. Aresia knew why he smelled blood now. These men were covered in it.

All around Reiki lie the dead bodies of so many villagers he knew personally. Their deaths were most gruesome, some missing limbs. The gagging stench of rotting flesh hung over the group of murderers. Aresia's knees went numb and he fell to the scorching sands when he caught sight of his mother and father among the dead. His body shook with anger and sadness.

Aresia's teeth and fists clenched tightly, his mana well exploding ferociously. The air around the group of bandits shimmered dangerously. "You picked the wrong child to fuck with."

The army stepped back, drawing their weapons with shaky hands. Axes, knives, swords, and clubs waved before Aresia, who obviously was not phased in the least. The ring of a single steel weapon being drawn from its sheath caught his attention. The sound of his own sword being drawn by someone other than him enraged him.

His jaw became slack and he muttered thousands of runes swiftly and precisely. A small dome enclosed the thieving murderers and himself. Small shocks of static electricity burst from his body, surprising the thieves. His angry gaze became a smirk of evil. "Welcome to hell, my friends."

With those words the dome lit up wildly with jolts of raw lightning. Blood, bone, and flesh evaporated instantly with the touch of the swirling strings of mana. Shrieks of pain were drown out by the roars of the power being harnessed.

When the sand cloud cleared, nothing remained of the bandits but their weapons. Aresia walked to his sword and lifted it to his shoulder. He slipped the steel into the sheath that the man covered in skulls had been carrying. With the bandits gone, Aresia began the work of burying the dead townsfolk.

The blood soaked sand glistened as the sun sunk over the dunes. Aresia drove weapons into the ground over two of the graves, marking the resting place of his parents. Tears streamed down his face. The salt water soaked into the ground as they pattered the sand.

Reiki groaned and lifted her head. She found Aresia with his back to her on his knees, a black leather sheath on his back. She called his name, her voice muffled by the rag over her mouth. She felt hot in the direct sun and it hurt to move, ropes cutting into her skin. She watched Aresia helplessly. Her chest heaved at the sight of how powerful he looked.

The wind blew gently, blowing her hair in her vision. She suddenly fell into someone's arms and felt the rag come free from her mouth. She gasped with delight. Reiki pulled the hair out of her eyes and found Aresia looking down at her. He looked so sad. His eyes were dull. The usually dark black seemed to have faded to a dark gray.

"Aresia," she began worriedly. "What happened to you?"

His eyes swelled with water as tears ran down his cheeks. "They are dead, Reiki. My parents are dead."

His words shocked her. "You don't know that. They could have escaped the fire."

A tear dripped on her lips, the salty taste refreshing her parched mouth. "They got out of the fire. Bandits. Bandits killed them."

Her head shook with disbelief. "No, Aresia. They are still alive. I can feel their mana." She couldn't really; she just wanted to comfort him. He seemed so broken. She had never seen him so bad. Reiki had always been around Aresia when he was depressed and happy. The two of them had been together since birth. They had been best friends forever. "They are still alive, Aresia. I know they are."

Her words seemed to have no effect. "Reiki. I appreciate your comforting words, but I know they are dead. I buried them myself a few moments ago."

Reiki stared at him, her eyes swelling with tears now. She had known Aresia's parents for as long as she had known Aresia. They were like her second parents. She clutched at Aresia's chest and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. She wept bitterly knowing that her closest friend had lost all he had.

Bohis grumbled angrily and lifted the giant rock slab from on top of him, hurling it away. The deafening boom didn't even effect him. He rose from the pile of ruins and groaned. His body was totally exhausted. He had so little mana left that it hurt to stand. Before he had blacked out, he saw Darrius destroy his summoned creature with ease.

Standing at the top of a pile of smoldering slabs intertwined with steel, he gazed over the horizon. The town was leveled. There was nothing left but black and maybe thirty feet of ashes. The flames he had created bruised the earth. His fists clenched angrily, knowing that bandits probably killed the few that had survived. He felt dizzy, his mana well becoming empty again. He fell back and tumbled down the hill of stone. He lay on the cool sand and watched the sun slump lower in the sky.

Aresia watched the stars in the night sky. The bloody moon was gone, its memory fresh in his mind. Reiki was asleep next to him. The two had wept together for a long time before beginning the long walk to a new village. They would have to stay in Kristnacht if they were to have any chance in finding friendly people to take them in.

Aresia finally remembered what had happened the night of the fire. He had run into the town, flames licking his bare feet. He had grabbed maybe three people and escorted them from the village. He remembered running into a burning home, his own, to get his parents out. He ran up the stairs to get to their room. The stairs and ceiling gave way. He blacked out as flaming rubble piled on his body.

Aresia wondered why he had no burns on him at all and why his shorts were still in tact. He guessed his mana had created a shield to protect him until the bandits came for him.

His mana well felt endless even after the large attack he had created that day. He wondered what Reiki was dreaming about. He wondered what he would dream about when he finally fell asleep. He wondered what the gods were doing. So many thoughts filled his mind. He felt heavy, wanting to sleep, but not wanting the dreams.

Chapter 6

After days of walking and eating as little as half of a scorpion for a day, Aresia and Reiki had wandered into a town on the edge of Kristnacht's borders. They had collapsed in front of an inn. The innkeeper had ran out and found them. She had brought them inside and put them in a room.

His feet slapped the stones of the road. His new shoes and clothes felt crisp. He walked past several small shops, smells of fresh bread filling the air. He smiled cheerfully and continued down the road.

Clacks of burter shoes filled his ears. Burters were just like horses in every way, just much faster and more capable of movement over sand.

The burters neighed and stepped around him. The riders were armed royal guards. Black armor shielded their bodies. Black helmets covered their faces, but Aresia felt the eyes on him. He simply smiled and continued his pace.

The clashing sounds of shifting armor faded into the walls of houses and shops as the guards moved on.

Aresia turned and found himself in a dead end alley. He frowned and turned from the dark path and back the way he had come.

Three men moved into the entry of the alley. Aresia couldn't see any details, just that they each stood about two feet higher than him.

Aresia smiled and walked to the entrance, stopping a few inches from the three men. "Excuse me," he began, "you're in my way. I'd like to get through if you wouldn't mind."

The men chuckled and one of them spoke. "You're a funny kid. That's a nice looking sword you've got there. Think I'll take it from you and keep it as my own. What 'cha think?"

Aresia raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, sir, but you may not have this sword. It belongs to me."

The men began chuckling again, moving in around him. "You don't understand," the man spoke again. "I wasn't asking if I could have it. I was telling you that I was going to take it and leave you here. Dead or alive."

Aresia smiled and closed his eyes. With a single fluid-like move, he pulled his sword from its sheath and cut all three of the men in half. Blood and guts sloshed over the ground.

Aresia sheathed his sword and jumped over the crimson pool to keep his shoes clean. "Stupid fools," Aresia said under his breath. He continued the way he had been going before taking the turn.

He had felt them following him for a long time and knew that the guards had slowed to warn him. He didn't care that they had tried to mug him; it just annoyed him to be followed.

Aresia continued to step in a rhythm, watching his feet scuffle across the stony road. He smiled at happy memories of days long gone.

He raised an eyebrow at a crunching sound behind him. Another following freak. Aresia gazed at his sides without turning his head so as to not alert his follower. He only heard two sets of footsteps: his own and one more. If more were following him, they might be on the rooftops. The houses and shops were squeezed tightly together, so it was a possible theory.

He searched for another alleyway to 'invite' the people into.

Bohis stepped slowly down the increasingly dark street. He found it strange that a city would be so tight. It was a beautiful city when you could breath in a street. Poor architecture was most likely to blame.

He stepped into a shop and eyed the clerk.

Swords were lined up against walls. Shields, spears and javelins hung from hooks, some of them upside-down. Shreds of cloth and pieces of armor were cluttered in piles along the sides of the room. The open front shop seemed to have never gotten too much business. Dust lined shelves that were also covered with potions, charms, rings, and amulets. Bohis felt almost no magic presence from the alleged 'super almighty' charms. The clerk was just another simple conman out to make a living the easy way.

The man sat on a stool behind the large counter. He rested his head on his palm and his elbow on the countertop. His unkempt brown hair waved wildly about the top of his head. His knuckles bulged with years of fighting. His soft gray eyes seemed to have no target of sight. He had an odd gaze, as if he were sleeping with his eyes open. His chin was red with pressure from his hand.

Bohis growled quietly. The man was asleep. He slammed a fist down on the counter, cracking the wood and awakening the sleeping salesman.

"Ah! A customer after days without business!" The man jumped and sat up immediately. He began babbling about items that were on sale and then launched into a detailed description about the 'magical properties' of each item. "This one wards off ice based mana strikes and this one..." It was all a load of lies. Everything he said was false. None of the items would even come close to defending against anything.

One item did catch his eye, however. It was a small charm, round and brownish green with black runes scratched half-heartedly into the surface. The runes seemed to be carved in a hurry, as if being rushed by a captor, or maybe a pursuing enemy. Bohis sensed some type of ancient spell shielding the real potential of this item. In his eyes it was gold among garbage.

"I need two things from you," Bohis stated blatantly. "I want to buy that small charm there and would like to know the story of this city. Why is it built so oddly? And how much is the charm?"

The man scratched his chin, the redness fading. "Well I suppose I could give you a good deal on the charm. You're the first customer I've had in a long time. Most people avoid these long, dark, tight streets.

"You have a good eye for merchandise to pick out that item. I got it from a traveling mage a while back. Said it had a bloody past and was very powerful. He also told me that there was a spell around it that would kill anyone who tried to break it. The spell, mind you, not the charm itself. And if memory serves me well, I've had many a person come in and inquire about that thing before changing their minds. I don't blame 'em. That thing is nothing but bad luck to me. I used to get hundreds of customers a week, but the minute I bought that thing, people just vanished from around here."

Bohis absorbed the information the clerk and tried to understand what he was hearing. If he could manage to unlock the charm's shield, he might have more insight into the mages of old. He wondered if the shrouding spell was maybe a suppressant to the power inside the thing. Or maybe it was a simple bad luck charm. It was very puzzling.

"How much for it?" Bohis asked.

The man looked at him stunned and then smirked. "You mean you're going to buy it? Oh, thank you, kind sir. You see, I've tried just throwing it away when my suspicions grew, but it kept showing up again in that same spot on that counter; the exact counter I placed it on the day I purchased the cruel object. And I believe that I will give it to you for free, just to get rid of it. Please, just take it and leave. That is, unless you'd like to buy something else as well?"

Bohis gripped his new prize and stuffed it into a pocket. He would worry about the consequences of his purchase later, but now he wanted more information. "I wish to know why your city is the way it is. Why do your streets close in the further down you go?"

The man frowned. "It's a long story, sir. Are you sure you still want to hear it?"

Bohis nodded.

"Alright, then.

"Long ago, there lived one mage with immense power. Legend has it that his name was Gratiz Neeras. He was feared and revered throughout all of Azrael. Feared because he slayed demons with uncanny ability and revered because he was a monk. Legend says that he always wore a large and heavy white robe everywhere he went. He also carried an amazing sword with him called the Dream sword. This weapon was said to be the source of his powers and thousands of thieves and common-folk tried to take it from him by force, all meeting an unfortunate end.

"You see, the monk was as ruthless as they come, letting none survive that threatened him in any way, shape, or form. I'm not quite sure why, but the monk built this city with his magic. Gratiz was not an architect, but he was a strategist in battle. He built the trap alleys and confusing roads to distract attackers. The restricting widths of the streets were simple in design. He made them tight so that if he were to be attacked by multiple foes, he could simply run to the end of one of the streets and take each of them on in one-on-one combat. In the center of town he built a tower. The tower was his home."

Bohis listened to every word the man had to say and tried to fish out any details that might have been hearsay. He found most of it to be believable to a certain degree. Some of the small things were untrue; at least he thought so.

"So. One day the city was sacked. Thousands of demons, elves, humans, and sorcerers, attacked the place. The confusion was insane. The army was spread out everywhere. You couldn't walk into a street without bumping into a sentry or a full force. It was pure chaos. Armies turned against one-another. Blood flowed like a river through the roads. Alleys were piled high with corpses. Trap spells exploded spastically. After the surviving numbers fled, the monk came out, claiming to have slept through the whole attack." The man paused to chuckle. "Ironic, isn't it? Man must've been a genius or a nut job to build a wonder like this. After the attack, Gratiz rebuilt the town and went back to his home. He died of old age in his sleep."

Bohis wondered how such a great mage could have died in the bed instead of during battle. It was amazing that he could take on such a wondrous force on his own and in his sleep.

Bohis scratched his chin and tried to understand the long story. "So Gratiz created this town?"

The clerk nodded.

"Do you have any idea where this 'Dream' sword could be?"

The man scrunched up his face, appearing to be thinking. "Last I heard it resided in the Creator's Bed just outside of a village called Cario. But, sadly, that village was destroyed a few days ago by an unknown mana burn. Some joker summoned Craniu and didn't measure the size of the shockwave it would create or something. All I know is that fire rained on the village and no one could put it out."

Bohis growled quietly in anger. If this man's words were correct, then Darrius or the child had the weapon a great monk. Bohis knew the child would have had no chance against Darrius if he couldn't even beat him. The thought of the most powerful evil to ever exist having the most extraordinary weapon in all of history was disturbing.

"Thank you for your time, clerk, and I appreciate your gift." Bohis was trying to be kind and calm the man. He got a bit jumpy when he heard Bohis growl.

"S-sure. Uh, anytime."

Bohis turned and the shop and came out just behind someone he would never expect to find here. The sword was a dead giveaway as to identity. He decided to follow the person and try to unlock the charm before taking what he wanted.

Aresia felt the air behind him twinge. His tracker was in possession of a deadly artifact. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed the handle of his sword. He spun round and slashed diagonally, one foot swinging with the blade as he spun.

The man was the same one he had fought in the Creator's Bed. He leaned back, the blade nearly missing him, but hitting a small charm between his fingers. The blade stopped immediately at the touch of the item. A small burst of light sent shivers up the blade and into Aresia's hands. His whole being shook with the vibrations. The light grew into a ball of white light. Spikes of shine radiated outward only to sink in and then crawl out again.

Aresia stared in awe at the sight of such brilliant lights. He tensed as another twinge burst through the air. Several more shocks blasted from the charm before the light shrunk back into it.

The two eyed the connected items suspiciously before the light exploded outward one final time, knocking them from their feet.

Aresia groaned and shielded his eyes with his sword arm. Small lights dropped from the sky, slowly drifting down before sinking into the stone ground. A few of the shimmers landed on his shirt and sank in, warming him. He felt peaceful suddenly, almost calm.

Rising to his feet, he slipped his sword back into the sheath. His enemy faced him. Through the snow-like glows, he seemed ominous.

"My name is Bohis, Aresia. I saved your life a while back, when your mana well almost exploded. Would've been a gruesome death for one as young as you." He acted as if he knew him. Aresia wondered what this guy was after and realized he answered his own question. He wanted the sword.

"If you're after my sword, you'll not get it again. I let my guard down last time, this time I have more blood on my hands, much more experience." Aresia hoped his threats would scare Bohis off. He wasn't up to a large battle.

Bohis smirked. "Thank you for the warning, however I don't want the sword just yet. When I do, I will take it without a doubt."

Aresia became annoyed with his boasting. He reached for his sword again. "Words are cheap, Bohis."

Bohis chuckled. "Just like you, boy."

Aresia growled angrily and gripped the handle tight. Such insults would not go unpunished. "I warn you, I won't be held responsible for any damage done to this city."

Bohis just smiled.

This was the perfect time to test Aresia's powers. After so much loss, His abilities were sure to have grown. If not, Bohis would just let him go.

The charm was cold in his hand. The man had told the truth in that this item was dreadfully powerful. A giant flow of mana poured from it.

A thin smile spread across Bohis's face. He would take the sword very soon.

Aresia drew his blade and dashed forward. Steel resounded and echoed off of the walls of buildings woven together. Bohis stalled for a moment, trembling in fear.

The figure before him was not Aresia; instead it was the form of the monk Gratiz. His white robe blinded Bohis with its radiance. He faltered and fell to a knee. The whistling tip of the blade swung over his head, barely nicking his hair and bringing him back to reality.

Bohis gripped the charm in his hand. He wouldn't use it just yet. The time was not quite right.

Aresia wondered why his opponent did not fight back. Bohis seemed strong enough to defend himself from his attacks, but he seemed to refuse to move. He was holding onto that charm tightly, causing Aresia to wonder what it was.

He jumped back and swung his sword diagonally, sending wind currents forward. The different currents melded together and clashed. The separate winds became tornados. Twelve tornados grinded against walls and each other as they ripped through the soil and rock before them.

Aresia muttered a few words and held his sword over his head. Using both hands he began spinning the blade, creating his own little tornado. The sword spun with his hands and stopped suddenly when his hands ceased movement. Shockwaves of ripping air rocketed from the sword outward, smashing through anything in their path.

Bohis still did not move.

Aresia growled furiously and drove his blade into the ground to the hilt. He freed a torrent of mana and ripped his sword free. The ground split and burst toward Bohis's still form. Rocks and dust were everywhere. The cloud he created blinded Aresia.

The deadly swarm of attacks he had launched would either kill Bohis or force his movement. Once Bohis moved his feet Aresia could use his new attack, the one that would definitely eliminate his pestilence.

Bohis grunted with effort as he held back the force of Aresia's attacks. The tornados were annoying enough, not to mention the blades of air. Bohis was pouring his mana into a shield to repel the swirling winds. The air blades caused his shield to fizzle with each strike. His mana could not hold up too much longer. He would have to move or the attacks would rip through his shield. After that he would surely die.

With no mana to defend him, his body would be defenseless.

His muscles ached as his mana steamed out of his pores. Damn it. He had no choice but to move. The earth was quaking, the sign of an incoming tremor attack. If he moved, he would have to disengage his shield. By doing that he would leave himself open to an attack. This was no good. But the dust created by a tremor wave would blind Aresia. If he could move before the smoke cleared, he might have a chance.

Bohis grunted, closing his mana off and leaping high into the air. He flew over the cloud he knew would be there. The twisters launched down the street, putting innocent civilians in danger. The air blades and tremor were soon to follow.

He growled and reached backed, his elbow bent and his hand still in front of his body. His fingernails grew longer and sharper as he let out his true power. His fingers twitched. His teeth lengthened and became jagged. This was the true power of the Greeta clan. Lupines were ferocious demons. They took on the power and form of wolves, but walked on two legs like a man. Their eyesight was several times sharper than that of a human also.

His eyes shrank and his pupils bulged. He could almost see through the smoke, but his claw attack would still be blind. He would have to put small points of mana into his shoulders and fingers so he could swipe faster.

This was it. This was exactly what Aresia wanted. Bohis was totally open in the air and had so little mana left now that he could not dodge while he was up there. Aresia's lips split into a wicked grin. He felt Bohis's mana growing slowly, but it would never be enough to defend against his new attack.

"Bohis," Aresia antagonized under his breath. "You fool you've left yourself without any mana and no shield. Perfect for me."

Aresia closed his eyes and blocked out all sounds and thoughts. His sword and free hand swayed slowly. His body moved on its own, the vibrations pushed out into the air from his arms forcing him to follow suit. He saw nothing but black, heard nothing but his own breathing, felt nothing but his heartbeat.

Aresia grinned and unleashed a small shockwave of mana. It began in the shape of a bubble and then grew outward. He could see everything the small sonar pulse of mana touched. The shape of Bohis came into focus.

Everything Aresia felt, heard, and saw became Bohis now. A pair of breaths and heartbeats and Bohis in his vision. The two were now connected. At least Aresia was connected to Bohis. He sensed everything Bohis would do. His body had changed to a more demon-like form. A were-wolf form.

Aresia's grin spread and his moves became swifter. He was faster than lightning now as his hands continued to sway. His eyes opened, but he still only saw Bohis through a black background.

"Bohis," Aresia called out. "This is the end for you. May the gods have pity on your soul."

Bohis faltered once more at these words. What was happening? This child had become so much stronger in only a few days. His mana well had swelled immensely. He had to be at least a level fourteen mana well.

The charm in Bohis's hand jolted. It was ready. Perfect timing.

Aresia pushed off of the wasted street lightly with one foot. He was thrown upward by the surge of energy he was releasing. Gravity seemed to shatter about him. He was in total control of everything around him—even Bohis.

Aresia jerked his free hand around to create a few complicated seals. The air became frigid and Aresia's movements became quicker. He slipped his sword back into its sheath, but held it tightly.

His body burst forth from the cloud. Bohis's face contorted into horrified surprise. His form was no different, just his eyes, teeth, and fingernails. His sand goggles were missing from their last encounter. They must have broken.

Aresia's movements flashed through his mind wildly. His head hurt a bit, the final sign of his success. His third eye had opened. Future events flurried into his thoughts. Everything would be perfect.

He yanked his sword free and swung it down. While pulling it from the sheath, Aresia poured out mana into the sword, creating a blade of pure energy. It would slice through anything it came in contact with.

This was not the end of his new attack. In fact, it was only a terror tactic.

Aresia swung his sword with perfected accuracy and cut as close to Bohis as he could without touching him once. He then connected his free hand to the blade with an open palm, forcing the seals into the blade. It pulsated bright blue. The next part would finish it.

Bohis felt a cold chill flush through his body and then realized his mana well had been sealed. He needed more time for his transformation. At the end of his change, spikes of solid mana would cover his skin. But if he had no access to his mana well, his morph would fail. There was no other choice. The charm would have to work.

Aresia began shouting seals and runes in the demon tongue. He switched randomly between languages. Words became jumbled and slurred as his speed increased.

"Now," Aresia announced. The air shattered, everything crumbled and dissipated.

The buildings and people inside were obliterated instantly. Aresia watched nothing but Bohis. His body seemed to be rejecting the spell. But how long could he withstand the force?

Aresia grinned once more and continued his string of vocalization. The air became heavier. Bohis appeared to be struggling to breath as gravity increased tremendously.

"Like my new spell, Bohis?" Aresia boasted. "I made it just for you since you like moving so fast and casting so many spells. I figured I'd seal your mana and then crush your body so badly that you could never be healed. That way I would never have to worry about your poor attempts at stealing my sword. What do you think?"

Bohis coughed and Aresia saw a small bit of blood come from his mouth. Still not enough pressure. Aresia chanted more. The words melted into the earth and air. The town began to fall apart. Aresia had taken special care to avoid being anywhere near the inn that Reiki was in. He felt her mana well and knew where she was at all times.

"Can you stand it any longer, Bohis? You're very stubborn. I might as well just kill you now and be done with it."

Aresia drew his sword once more. He let loose a horrendous amount of mana into the air around him. The gravity became tighter and stronger, causing Bohis to cry out as a rib cracked. The sword sharpened to the finest point possible. He would kill Bohis with one swing. Or at least maim him.

He pulled the weapon back over his head and grunted with his mighty swing.

Chapter 7

A light erupted from Bohis's hand. His fist shook and the air slipped out of Aresia's control. His mana well was almost exhausted. He had to finish this with his sword.

Aresia gasped in surprise when he felt the seal around Bohis's mana well snap. This could not be good or it could be very wonderful.

"Damn it!" Aresia shouted with annoyance. "How the hell did you do that?"

Bohis grinned now. Although his bones were weakened and he had no mana left to heal himself, he seemed to have the upper hand now. "My charm is useful now thanks to you removing the seal. Thanks a lot."

Aresia continued his swing but put more power into it, letting all his mana free. He would not lose to this guy again.

Bohis whispered a few words, trying to unlock the charm's spell, but couldn't find the right word. With every word he came closer to instant death. Sweat slid down his forehead as he continued to search for the word.

"Frishnatu." With that word, the charm activated. The air pulsed with a shockwave. Then another. The period of time between pulses became less and less with each shock. Bohis let the charm slip from his hand to the ground; Aresia's blade stopped mere inches from his face.

Aresia choked on his breath. What was happening? His muscles froze. He couldn't move anymore. Everything became solid, even the air. His body was so cold and all his mana was still behind his swing. If he could just move, he could maybe finish this.

Aresia noticed the charm fall from Bohis's hand and wondered what would happen next.

He gasped excitedly when it touched the ground. He was released from the grip of the magic and could breathe again. His arms continued to move, as if someone had paused time and then let it go again. The sword whistled down at Bohis, but never made it.

Bohis smiled maliciously as the charm finally unleashed its spell. Roots and tree branches rushed up from the small object and engulfed Aresia. The nature wave carried him higher into the sky and knocked the sword from his hand.

Bohis chuckled and let himself fall freely to the ground. The charm shot out a branch and caught him. He relaxed as the swaying foliage lulled him into sleep.

Aresia struggled with the trees as he continued to rise. Without any mana, he was unable to do anything to stop them. If he had his sword, he might be able to salvage some mana and at least try to kill the demon charm.

Lichen brushed up against him, giving him an idea. He could draw mana from the charm. It was such a large mana well for a small charm, it would never notice that he stole just enough to summon his sword. Aresia's grin returned. He would still win this.

He cried out slammed his palms into a branch beside him. His fingers clenched around it as he muttered runes. Just a quick siphon would be perfect. He felt his mana well filling rapidly. He began grinning again as he finished speaking.

The charm's speed decreased a bit and Aresia yelled runes out. The sword flung skyward and fell into his hands. He squeezed the handle of the sword, its blade still honed to the finest point possible from his mana. It seemed to still be covered with mana.

Aresia began swinging wildly, hacking through the roots and branches violently. With each killing swing he felt the charm's mana well deplete. His cuts were not only clearing a path for him, but also eliminating his enemy's only weapon. He chuckled evilly.

Aresia came closer to the ground, the sharpened sword slowing down slightly with each swing. He was sweating with effort, but would not stop swinging until Bohis or the charm or both were dead. He mana well of the charm was almost totally gone now and Bohis had no mana left at all.

Aresia put all of his mana into his sword once more and swung heavily down through the earthly spell. The trees melted with the touch of his blade, his mana creating so much heat that instead of bursting into flames, the branches melted on touch. The swing went directly through the magic branches and connected with the charm itself.

A loud snap reverberated outward. The charm broke in two and turned to dust, the wind blowing it away.

Aresia looked to his side and saw Bohis's sleeping form falling to the ground. He took the opportunity and swung his sword at him, but collapsed before he could touch him.

"Shit," Aresia mumbled. "I forgot about Bohis and used all my mana in that last attack. Damn it."

Chapter 8

Reiki opened her eyes to the sound of someone pounding on the door to the room Aresia and her were staying in in the inn. The walls all around the room were bare save for the deep blue paint smeared on the thin wood. The colors swirled in long branching chains of spirals that seemed to be a ring of protection about the room. The bed was very large and cushiony, like a giant pile of cotton with warm coverings over it. It was set up from the floor by four ornate wooden posts and a draping canopy over the top. The green fabric of the canopy was the softest she had ever felt. The wooden planks that were the floor were sometimes covered by breath taking oriental rugs. The room seemed to be made for a king. Large royal curtains were pulled at the windows.

The banging became louder, forcing Reiki from the bed. She slid her legs out of the side and stood. She felt wobbly, her body not used to standing. Her pink nightgown made of silk flowed extravagantly behind her, fluttering with her every move. Her hair was neatly laid in a straight flow behind her. She always made sure her hair looked perfect.

Reiki came to the plain wooden door and grabbed the brass handle. She twisted it and pulled on the door. Light poured into the room from the hallway. Shielding her eyes, she stepped out of the way as someone pushed their way in rudely.

It was Aresia in his new clothing. He looked amazing. There were a few small rips in his shirt, but other than that, he looked perfectly normal. He carried on his back a man almost twice his size. Reiki wondered whom this stranger was, but decided not to ask. Talking to Aresia now seemed to always make her blush. She had to lower her head to make sure he didn't notice, but he somehow always did and just smiled, his voice becoming warm and kind.

Aresia dropped the man into a chair in the corner and stepped back. Reiki was surprised to see that the man was Bohis, the person who had saved Aresia before their home was destroyed.

"Reiki," Aresia began, "you know who this man is, correct?"

Reiki nodded.

"You do not know that he has tried to kill me several times already."

Reiki looked from Aresia's back to the unconscious Bohis and back to Aresia. Her chest felt heavy and breathing seemed difficult. "He saved you the day Cario was destroyed."

Aresia scoffed. "He's the one who destroyed Cario, Reiki."

Her knees went weak and she fell to the floor. Her eyes were wide and she held a hand to her mouth in disgust. She felt sick. The man who had saved her best friend is the reason he lost everything. "Aresia. How do you know?"

His head turned to the side slightly, a thin smile across his lips. "I was there. I saw him do it. It was not on purpose, though."

"You're right, Aresia," Bohis said in his deep quiet voice. "I was not attempting to destroy your home. My target was the supreme evil, Darrius." At the mention of that name, Reiki and Aresia took a step back in surprise. "That man is supposed to be dead, but the gods gave him his body back, or a lower body. I don't think they would have made the mistake of giving him his normal half-demon body back. They probably gave him something like a cat." Bohis sighed heavily. "I was trying to take care of him like my ancestor had done, but I was not strong enough. I summoned Craniu without a thought that Darrius might be able to destroy it. My perfect beast, destroyed by a single sword swipe. He cut my creature in half, sending flaming chunks everywhere as the monster dissipated. He should have died with me in that blast. I have no clue why he didn't kill me when I blacked out, nor do I know why I was not captured by the bandits who killed most of the town, but I do know that when I awoke, I was covered in sand. They probably couldn't see me or feel m mana, so they gave up." Bohis paused to shrug. "I have no way of knowing."

Reiki chewed her bottom lip nervously. "But if Darrius is alive again, why aren't there more villages being destroyed."

Aresia answered this one. "His body is not large enough to handle all of his mana well, so it takes him much too long to restore mana to go off wasting it. I witnessed most of Bohis's battle, and found that Darrius used almost no mana. The sword swing, however, was bursting with mana. He used just a bit more than you did, Bohis, to summon it."

Bohis rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, placing his chin on them. "So you're saying that he is too powerful for me alone, but he can't use his full power without his normal body?"

Aresia nodded.

Aresia understood everything that was happening now. He knew where Darrius would go to get his body back, and it would not be pretty. "He will go to the demon lands. There is a monument to the demon gods there, a giant temple called Ler Nactu Fristari. The Night Temple. A dark priest sealed this building off several years ago. Inside he placed the most powerful of treasures. An item that has simply been dubbed the dark orb. A sphere so perfect and deadly, it is said to have the power to destroy the world. There are hundreds of traps and puzzles inside and demon guards surround it, but I'm sure that with the body of a cat Darrius will be able to sneak in without any problems. If he gets a hold of that, it'll all be over."

Aresia wondered if he knew this from school, or the sword. He figured it was the sword, since Reiki spoke up in argument.

"If this place really exists, then it must be hidden very well, right? A weapon this powerful must be cleverly disguised."

"We won't know until we get there, now will we?" Bohis chimed.

Bohis knew that the only way he could stop Darrius was if Aresia was with him. If this child could defeat him, then he must truly be the chosen one, the one with the powers of ancient mages. "Let's rest here a day or two and then head out. We'll need to stock up very well. We might not find a friendly village for weeks."

Aresia smirked at him. "So I take it you're coming with us?"

Bohis just smiled and stood. "I will get my own room next to yours. If you need me, don't be afraid to ask."

He stepped across the luxurious room and past the children. Aresia was seventeen now. He knew exactly what was good for himself. Bohis was proud to see that he had grown into a fine young man.

Night came and Aresia became depressed. He would avenge so many souls in destroying Darrius, but getting rid of him wouldn't be that easy. His parents were watching over him with the gods.

He let out a quiet sigh, trying not to wake Reiki. He failed at that. She rolled over and looked at him. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Lately he had found himself thinking of her more often. He would worry about her health and safety.

Aresia put his arms behind his head and stared at the canopy of the bed. Faces gave way to voices inside of his mind. Harsh whispers ran through his head in almost silent tones.

He felt his body split. He cringed in pain as his form seemed to shake apart without moving. This amazed him. It felt like someone else had entered his body.

Aresia.

The voice called his name softly, but with a masculine tone. Reiki's eyes were not open, and her mouth had not moved. Aresia tried to find the source of the voice.

Aresia. Bring it to me.

He panicked, eyes darting side to side, searching for the whispering person.

A crow fluttered down from the canopy of the bed and landed on his stomach. It's head swung in several directions, as if peering at his soul. Aresia watched the bird closely. Crows were a symbol of death predicted by the gods. A warning that he would no longer exist soon.

Aresia. Obey me. Bring me the sword. Give me what I want and I will give you what you need.

He was confused. The voice said he needed something, but he didn't know what it was. "What is it that I need?" he whispered softly.

You need her.

The crow's beak turned to Reiki, showing him what he would have if he obeyed.

I will give her to you. Just bring me the sword. I can give you more power than you can imagine, child. Obey me.

Aresia glared at the crow. "And if I refuse?"

The crow's eyes lowered and he seemed to smile. An evil smile.

You cannot deny me. For I am just like you. We are the links to the gods. They speak through us. We are the source of power. You and I are the same, boy. And by being the same, I can control you.

Aresia's body throbbed. He felt the split again. "What the hell?"

You see, there are three people inside of you. A person who is like the normal humans, a powerful mage from the ancient times, and the mindless vessel of the gods. You were a failed experiment, Aresia. You were not meant to have a mind or a soul. You were supposed to be a ship for the gods to walk among their subjects.

Aresia gritted his teeth and knew the voice was forcing him to switch personalities. This crow was trying to make him its slave. And it was succeeding.

That's it... There's a good boy. Accept it. Know there is nothing you can do to stop this. You are a puppet like me, but I have learned to become a puppeteer also. I am the King and you are my servant. Bring me the sword. Give me what I want and you can have Reiki.

Aresia's eyes became dull gray. His body became cold. "I... I am your puppet. I must obey."

The crow jumped from the bed and morphed into a new form. The form of a man. A large black travel cloak and streaked back hair. His face was shrouded in darkness.

Aresia slipped out of the bed and walked to the sword. He was no longer in control of his body, but didn't care. He felt warm. He felt perfect. He felt like he was the best-known person in existence. Everyone knew who he was and adored him. He was no longer shunned or pushed aside or picked on. Instead, everyone bowed to him and kissed his feet. He was a god.

He took the sword in both hands and held it outward to the man before him. "It is yours, master." He had no emotion on his face.

The man grinned, his teeth shimmering in the light of the moon pouring through the open window. He took the sword by its handle and gripped the sheath with his other hand. He slowly pulled the blade out a bit and then slid it back.

Good boy, Aresia. You have done well. I shall reward you with Reiki's heart. Sleep well, my puppet.

Aresia blinked, regaining control over his body. The man was gone along with the sword. He dropped to his knees. "What have I done?"

He heard Reiki rise and felt her hands on his back and shoulder. "Aresia... What are you doing up?"

Aresia turned back and looked at her. "Darrius has the sword now, Reiki. He will have his body back in a few days."

"He stole it?"

Aresia turned and looked to the floor. "I gave it to him..."

Chapter 9

The sound of his wings bashing the air relaxed him as he carried the heavy sword over the ocean of sand beneath him.

Darrius would have to make as much space between Aresia and his friends as he could in the time he had. A day's flight with a heavy sword in his talons would easily be half a day's ride on a snaroo. A snarro was an ancient camel-like creature. It had no humps, wide feet, was furry, and could move swiftly. The animals were almost twelve feet tall, keeping the rider from the hot sand. They could carry two hundred pounds across twenty miles of desert in half a day.

With a grunt, Darrius used some mana to change into his illusionary form. He could travel much easier in the form of a man, and would look less conspicuous to passer-by.

Darrius knew everything Aresia was thinking. Being a life-less form, he had taught himself to connect to others like himself.

Long ago, before the land split into countries, the ones known as the Splica Mages ruled everything. They were known for unfair laws and ruthless punishment. Everyone was forced to work, even children. They weren't just forced to do menial tasks like gathering wood or cooking, but they were also forced to create machines. Machines were made by any means necessary: by hand, magic, or even the long forgotten art of alchemy. Alchemy and magic were almost exactly alike, but there were small differences. Alchemy, for example, did not cost mana. It was possible to use alchemy for years at a time without stop. Alchemy was also a separate form of summoning. It was used to create solid objects such as wood and metal.

With all of the alchemy users under their control, the Splica Mages created giant works of terrible power. One of these works was a machine that was strictly forbidden by the gods. This machine created humans, demons, wizards, elves, and even half-demons without souls. These beings were horribly mutated, however, and forced to be destroyed. The life forms were supposed to be extremely powerful bodies for the gods. Out of the hundreds of failed experiments, there were a few that were at approval grade. These bodies were awakened and given lives at separate times. Darrius was one of the approved ones. He was also the first to be awakened. Almost eight thousand years later.

The Splica Mages continued to labor the underlings for thousands of years. About six more, to be exact. But no one told the workers underground. This was because the underground works were supposed to be totally confidential. No one was permitted to leave and few were allowed to enter. So the underground workers continued on for generations, using the dead and old as fuel for the fires to keep them all warm.

Darrius wanted to find his creation place. He would do this soon. The sword was the key to that place. But first he would need a mind slave.

The biggest trap in Ler Nactu Fristari was the temple itself. Once the treasure at the end of the temple was removed, the entire temple would implode. After that, the dark mana droplet would be formed. After he acquired this, he could do what he needed. Everything would be perfect just as long as Aresia and his pals did their part. But then again, what choice did they have?

Darrius began to laugh darkly.

Aresia sat up in the bed, sweat pouring from his pores. He had heard Darrius laugh. His head throbbed and his throat itched. The inside of his mouth tasted like blood. He smelled the crimson fluid in the air, too. He began gagging on the smell. He had never smelled blood. He had never bothered getting close enough to the liquid to smell it.

Clutching his pulsing skull, he slid out of the bed. He stood at the window and stared out at the quiet city. Aresia sighed heavily and turned his back to the illuminated town. He jumped back in surprise and gasped when he bumped into Bohis.

"What are you doing in here, Bohis?" Aresia asked, rubbing his temples.

"Where is the sword?"

Aresia looked to aside to the floor solemnly. "He has it."

Bohis nodded. "Good. He knows we are onto him and is panicking."

Aresia said nothing.

"Get some sleep, boy. We have much work to do tomorrow."

Aresia looked out of the corner of his eye at Bohis. "I want my sword back, Bohis."

A thin smile spread across Bohis's shadowed lips. "I know."

Reiki blinked a few times and tried to adjust to the light pouring into her room. She hadn't slept that well in her life. She sat up and stretched her arms with a loud yawn. Reiki rubbed her eyes and licked her lips, the smell of delicious food wafting into her nostrils. The sweet aroma charged her body and lifted her from the bed.

Pulling her nightgown tight around her, she walked toward the bedroom door. She gripped the cool metal orb and twisted it, pushing into the wooden slab with her shoulder. The smell became stronger in the plain hallway. She judged which direction the smell was coming from and followed her nose. Her feet slapped the plank flooring as she continued steadily. She took her time, enjoying the perfection.

Doors lined either side of the hall, each with the exact same features. She wondered what the sweet smells were as she stepped past room after room. Her senses were exploding with excitement. Her chest heaved with every breath, taking in the aroma as if each were her last.

Finally coming to the end of the hallway, Reiki panted happily. Two large wooden doors, each fitted with elaborate golden handles, blocked her entry to wherever the smell was coming from. Frustrated, she threw the doors open with all her might. The sight took her breath away and made her eyes sparkle with awe.

Before her stood an enormous dining chamber lit with candles on gold holders. Two pillars of white marble and gold base separated the dining room in half and left a walkway in the middle. Round tables were spread evenly on each side of the dining room. Each table was covered with a white silk cloth lacquered with small gold symbols. One window stood proudly to the left wall, the stained glass shimmering and portraying a man standing on a hill with a gold aura about him.

Reiki covered her mouth with her hands and gasped. She had never left the room and spent all of her time sleeping. Never had she thought that the inn was so elegant. As she looked around, she caught a glimpse of Aresia waving at her, a smile spread across his face. She ran toward him with her own smile.

"Do you like it?" he asked her cheerfully.

"I love it!" she cried. Her happiness was no lie. She had never seen such wonder and had never dreamt of it. "Aresia, it's so beautiful here!"

He chuckled and nodded. "The innkeeper was nice enough to take us in and give us a room when he discovered us in the desert. When he heard that we were leaving, he decided to throw us a party." Aresia smiled brightly and Reiki felt her heart thump against her ribs.

"This- this is extraordinary... I've never seen such perfection. The room alone is so... I can't even find words for what it is!"

"Expensive, over-done, over-priced," Bohis chimed in. "Take your pick. This place is for rich people only. It cost me my whole damn bounty just for one room." Bohis shook his head. "Luckily the innkeeper is a generous man and decided to give it all back for our trip."

Aresia pulled out a chair at the table Bohis and he were sitting at. Reiki sat down and looked over the table. Magic runes were written in the tablecloth in gold. The runes were too complicated for her to understand, but she didn't care. To her right were a small folded napkin and a fork, spoon, and knife. Each piece of silverware seemed to be made of silver, the shine blinding her momentarily.

"This is so amazing," she stated once more.

Aresia and Bohis just smiled.

A moment later, a group of men dressed in all white came out carrying silver platters. They set the platters on the table and removed the lids, revealing exquisite foods that gave off the most wonderful aromas. Each dish was velvet in her mouth and tasted so much better than anything she had ever eaten. She couldn't help but moan at the delicate tastes that enveloped her.

Once they finished their meals, the men in white came out once more, removing the platters and replacing them with glasses of wine. Reiki stared at the dark liquid that filled her slender glass.

"I've never drank anything with alcohol in it..." she said worriedly.

Aresia and Bohis each sipped at their cups. Aresia spoke up in a soft tone. "Get used to it, Reiki. Alcohol is the cheapest beverage and will be all we'll be able to drink for quite a while."

Reiki gulped nervously and took the glass in her hand. Holding the rim of the container to her lips, she sniffed at the drink. It smelled terrible. She could not describe how it smelled, but she didn't like it.

"Just try it. If you don't like it, you can order something else," Bohis assured.

Reiki nodded solemnly and tipped the glass a bit. Her mouth immediately swam in a smooth warmth as the liquid snuck down her throat. She closed her eyes as her whole body warmed from the inside out. When she opened her eyes again, she felt calm. Everything was fine, there was no Darrius, no worry about her parents, no worry about the dead in Cario, nothing but warmth.

Four glasses of wine later she was bent over gagging in a drunken stupor.

Bohis and Aresia found this hilarious and were cackling uncontrollably. "Poor Reiki," Aresia managed to say through his laughing fit. "She's got one of the worst tolerances to alcohol I've ever seen."

Bohis had drunk six glasses of wine and Aresia had had almost ten.

After a while of laughing and telling jokes and telling memories, the drunken trio quieted down. Reiki had given up on wine and began drinking water. Aresia had switched to a juice with a big name that Reiki didn't like and Bohis stuck to wine.

"What are we going to do?" Reiki asked. "We don't have enough power to defeat Darrius now that he has the sword. He has to be close to getting his body back. If that happens..."

The three lowered their heads with somber expressions. They all knew that it would be impossible to defeat Darrius if he got his hands on whatever it was he was after.

"We just have to do our best," Aresia said quietly. "And if that's not good enough, we die trying. We cannot allow an evil like that to walk the planet freely again. I would rather die trying to stop him than die hiding in a hole when he comes for me."

Aresia hadn't told them about the night before. All he had told them was that he had given Darrius the sword. He hadn't mentioned the crow and the words it had spoken. They wouldn't believe him anyway. And it would only raise more questions for them.

"I agree with Aresia," Bohis stated. "I won't die like a coward. I will fight just as my ancestors did and die in battle. We just may have a chance if we all attack him. We might even be able to find a few allies on the way. If we don't succeed, there are others who will stand and fight. I don't want to be a reserve soldier. I want to be on the front lines."

Aresia nodded in agreement and read the runes on the table once more.

"The chosen ones can be whatever they are. No matter how hard they try, no matter how many times they fail, they succeed."

Aresia had no idea what it meant, but burned it into his memories. It seemed like a bunch of gibberish, but he couldn't help but feel that it connected to them somehow.

"We have to succeed. Failure is not an option. We shall all come out of this alive. And when we do, the people will scream our names and build statues depicting our achievements. We will truly be the most powerful mages ever known. We will be placed in history for all eternity." Aresia's words floated over the others as they sat in silence.

Bohis smiled. Aresia was everything he had thought he would be and more. This boy was more powerful than anything in existence, including Darrius. He would be the best-known mage all over the planet.

Chapter 10

As he slinked stealthily through the thick underbrush of the boggy jungle, Darrius kept his noise level to a minimum. The humid and moist area had forced him to shed his traveling cloak long ago. He slipped unnoticed through the increasingly darkening jungle that stood between him and Ler Nactu Fristari. He occasionally had to snap the necks of guards to continue any further, but had yet to be discovered, covering the bodies skillfully. Sweat poured down his face in salty beads as the heat became more intense.

Aresia and his companions were sure to have left the inn days ago by now. He had been on the run with the sword in hand for nearly two weeks.

His mana was nearly evaporated now, forcing him to stop under a solid tree. Darrius leaned back against the slick, rough tree trunk and panted heavily. He was exhausted to the brink of collapsing, but with his goal so close he fought off the fatigue. His chest heaved with each breath as a small wheeze escaped from his lungs with every inhalation. His muscles throbbed as they got the rest they had sought far days.

His eyes darted about, searching for any signs of the sneaky guards that were spread over the area. There seemed to be a guard about every ten feet. It was a bit excessive, but proved successful. He was surprised to have found no booby taps at all. It seemed that whoever had built this place and whoever wanted it guarded knew their men would and could amply do their job.

Darrius grunted quietly when he pushed off of the tree. What he thought was a sturdy tree, was a dead piece of rotten driftwood. The enormous piece of deteriorated plant fell backward, creating a terrifyingly loud crashing and crunching sound. Darrius froze and looked about. Voices drifted closer and leaves rustled with movement.

"There's something over here!" called a man.

Darrius searched wildly for some way to escape.