Well, sorry for the wait, for anyone who cared. This chapter isn't nearly as short as the other one, but hey, I'll just call that the prologue. Future chapters will be steadily longer, I promise. And now, our featured presentation.

Flashback

Isaac sat on the side of his bed, not dressed to sleep. He was contemplating all that was going on, in action and mind. He had been detached and bitter from the one feeling older than time: fear. He was scared because he knew that sooner or later he'd have to depart to the one place he'd hoped to never have to go near. He felt aweful every time one of his friends would confront him on his mood, and how he would reply by coldly turning away. His soul mourned of the way this was making him grow apart of his friends.

His father always told him that a leader is one who makes decisions justly; who will do good regardless of personal matters. He thought of that for a moment, and formulated an interpretation. He stood up, tied his scarf, picked up his sheath, and walked out his door, intentionally not leaving a note.

Jenna gave a trembling sigh. Another one of the tragedies occured later that day. She stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. After the fourth or fifth death, she couldn't stop thinking if she might be next, and others were thinking the same. There wasn't any obvious pattern to the victims. Garet swore to her that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. She smiled weakly. He was a lunkhead at times, she thought, but he's got a heart of gold.

Jenna turned onto her side. She thought of how stoic and cold Isaac had been acting over the past week or so. She had mentioned it to him, but he had always seemed to become more agitated and would walk away. Isaac knew that Jenna and Felix didn't know of that dark place, because their parents were extremely superstitious of the castle, and felt it was in their son and daughter's best interests to not know of it. Isaac didn't care to let them know. It would cast an unnecessary feeling of distrust and hurtfulness toward their parents. That wasn't needed in this time; there was enough pain from the losses of loved ones in Vale.

The small clock on Jenna's credenza softly struck twice as she drifted lightly into a shallow sleep.

Isaac pressed open the giant iron doors that towered over him. They resisted his force, as if they hadn't been opened in a thousand years. He entered the castle, finding it as dark as he had expected. The place seemed to reek of death. Now that he was out of the wind, he took out from his pack a wooden rod wrapped with an oil-soaked rag, and placed it on the cold stone floor. He opened a tin. He placed a piece of charred cloth on the ground too, next to the torch. Taking a piece of steel in one hand, and flint in the other, Isaac struck them together several times, until he caught a spark on the cloth. The young man then wrapped some tinder around the glowing cloth and gently blew on it until the spark was inspired. He lit the torch with it, and more of the room was revealed.

It was then that our hero then carefully scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but making assumptions could be lethal in a place like this. Silence gripped the room. The floor looked dusty and weathered. Suits of armor stood tall, tapestries adorned the walls, and erie portraits of subjects of time's past hung looking over him. Other unimportant clutter, and items occupied the room. He took in a deep breath.

Another set of doors, this time smaller and make of pine, was the last thing Isaac noticed. Since there didn't appear to be any other way, he slowly walked up to them, occasionally moving his torch in front of something to get a better look at it. Suddenly he heard a sound to his right, and, from being as tense and nervous as he was, spun around, unsheathing his sword, willing to fight while holding his sword with one hand.

Could've sworn it was the--

Isaac didn't have time to finish his thought, because an animated suit of armor struck him across his back, clanging with his breastplate. Isaac fell, dropping his torch and weapon. The light in the room came to a dangerously low flicker, and his sword slid across the floor some few feet. The armor readied its attack, and just as Isaac turned and rolled out of the way, a large battle axe crushed the stone where our hero has been lying a split-second before. While also trying to keep from being sectioned by the angry plate mail, Isaac groped for his blade. The little light that was in the room glinted off the sword on the floor, and Isaac saw it and grabbed the hilt.

A cold, foreboding feeling overcame Isaac as he witnessed the torch laying on the ground die. The room appeared completely dark, because his eyes didn't have time to adjust to the change. He cried in agony as the axe sunk into his right shoulder, and he fell again. A warm, wet liquid seeped from the blow, and his arm felt like it was being branded. His breathing became shallow and unsteady. He stood and moved as fast as he could, so the second sound of smashing granite didn't include him.

It was then that Isaac prepared to fight back. Holding the Gaia Blade as tightly as he could, he swung at the armor. Clash. The plate mail reeled from the blow, and turned. Isaac quickly exchanged his blade with his Runeshield, and effectively blocked the attack. Isaac went for another attack, and thrust his sword into the slit where the helm overlapped the mail. The armor increasingly felt heavier on his sword, because slowly the armor stopped supporting its weight, until it fell to the ground, lifeless.

Isaac sighed. He closed his wound with his psynergy, picked up the extinguished torch, and lit it again. He looked over the room again, to make sure he didn't miss anything; what exactly what is was he deemed anything he wasn't sure. Better safe than sorry, he always said. Nothing was noticeable or out of the norm. deep-colored, Garohnian tapestries hanging, the portrait of no one, the-

Wait, what the... A picture of a background hung on the wall. The sickening feeling of fear returned to him. He could have sworn that someone was in that portrait when he entered. He went against the will of his neck to turn his head to look at everything else. He looked back to the painting, and started to really get scared.

The portrait was now a mirror image of was it originally was.

Isaac's body felt like it was made of stone, frozen by fear. His mind seemed to scream at him to turn back, run away.

Venus, Sol, someone please hear me. Give me strength to go on, please... I can't do this alone...

After a few moments, Isaac mustered his courage. He commanded himself to slowly creep up to the second pair of doors, and push them open.

Hope you liked it. And please, if you would be so kind as to leave a little review, I would be so appreciative, even it's a snippet. Advice is welcome. Thanks much.