Ginger napped while Grant continued his observations. The past several hours had been just as quiet as the time previously, but he had noticed something. The Immortals below had begun stirring. Had become restless. They were like the animals of a forest, agitated at the coming of a storm. They looked about, and were noticeably irritable. One had even thrown a punch at another. Or at least, he began to. But he had stopped. And it wasn't clear why. The other Immortals moved away, acting perfectly peaceful.

"What are they waiting for?" Grant asked himself.

"Oh, just me," said a sinister voice behind him. Grant whirled and Ginger was up. They stared at the man behind them. He was a young man, maybe 18 at the oldest, at least, physically. But there was something about him, something. It was like being in the presence of a bottomless pit. It was the Abyss, and it stared back at him.

"Who are you?" Ginger asked, getting up, a hand absently heading for her firearm.

"Hm...that's a more interesting question than you know," the young appearing man answered. Wild, unruly golden blond hair billowed in the chilled breeze. Dark eyes regarded Grant thoughtfully.

"Watchers. You watch secret history. They say those who don't remember history are doomed to repeat it. All the sorrows. All the mistakes. You custodians of history, you aren't doing a very good job," he said with disdain.

"She asked who you are, sir," Grant said.

"I'm the one who does what you will not," the man said. His eyes glowed white, and a dark halo seemed to manifest. He looked over at Ginger, and where her gun was. He looked smiled at her and asked, "Wouldn't that count as interfering?"

He tipped his fedora to her and proceeded to walk towards the monument and the gathered Immortals.

"Excuse me! Sir!" Grant shouted, "What..."

Arphael looked over his shoulder, "No more talk, sir. Watch."

Arphael walked onwards. The Immortals in the circle saw Arphael coming, and looked at him with varying degrees of curiosity. Then, they made the connection with the unwholesome sensation they felt earlier, and realized it was growing stronger. Their curiosity turned to concern, alarm, and for some, eagerness. Some began walking towards the perimeter of the Stonehenge grounds.

Arphael smiled at the sight of the warriors coming towards him and drew his sword. His dark aura blazed. Some of the oncoming Immortals blanched, and one stopped his approach. The others came on. And they stopped at the edge of Holy Ground.

"Your courage fails you? Disappointing," Arphael mocked. "Fighters, some of you with countless centuries of experience and accumulated power. Why cower behind Holy Ground?"

Carl Robinson brandished his custom broadsword and squinted at Arphael. "We can't take Quickening at this time. And we have been called here. Why do you seek to challenge us, stranger?"

"Why not?" Arphael said. "Oh, I know, different body, but my purpose remains the same. None of you would know me, anyway, I don't think. Except one, and he isn't here. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Arphael." He paused to let that sink in.

"Yes, dying Immortals, that was me. You heard about that, I trust?"

The Immortals stirred and looked at him with degrees of hardness, discomfort and fear.

"The inability to take Quickening? Well, I've a way around it. So, if you would just step up please? Let the cleansing begin..." Lightning flashed in the sky.

"No, Darius," said a voice. Constanza appeared next to Darius. "This has to stop."

The gathered Immortals watched this with keen interest. They were sure it had something to do with them, with the Game, but they had no idea what. They listened. They observed. They watched the odd conversation between the strange feeling Constanza and the dark nightmare that was the legendary Arphael. Or so it was said. But, whatever it was, they had never felt anything like him. And they were filled with trepidation. For whatever the outcome of what was to happen today, they were certain things would be changed when it all was said and done.

"Constanza, you are easily the most INEPT deity representative I have ever met in my long years," Arphael said with a laugh. "And believe me, I've known a few. Yes, I know you have that intangibility thing," he waved his sword through Constanza a few times, "...which just serves as a physical reminder of your inability to affect this world."

"That is not my purpose," Constanza said.

"Yes, your purpose is to be the lapdog of the higher powers who have created the Game. Go where they tell you. Do what they tell you. No life of your own. No passion. No desire. No will, to speak of. What a long, sad life you have led. Centuries waiting...for what?"

"For my purpose to be fulfilled," Constanza said calmly.

"And that will mean your end. How does that make you feel?", Arphael said with a sneer.

Constanza said, "All things end. The end is just a new beginning. Maybe even for me."

"Is that the sound of faith?" Arphael asked arrogantly.

"Experience," Constanza said calmly. "Release him, Arphael. You have no right to do what you have done to Darius."

"I have EVERY RIGHT!" Arphael roared. "I have been chosen of God to correct a wrong that extends from creation. And if that means an alteration of the plan of the powers that be, well...we are working for the same bosses, right?"

"No, I don't think so," Constanza said. "I speak of purpose, of mission. What you speak of is ambition, warped and contaminated through intense heartbreak and disappointment, magnified through the lense of eons of time. But your time is over, at least on this vale. Let it go, Arphael. Move on. Let Darius go."

"No," Arphael said softly. He then turned to Constanza and said, "I know who you work for. You tempt me with soft words veiled in false reason, but you speak the words of the One who would destroy Creation, rather than purify it!"

Constanza sighed and said, "Put your sword down, Darius."

"Do NOT say that name AGAIN!", Arphael roared. He whirled on the Immortals and screamed, "COWARDS! DO NONE OF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE TO FACE ME?!?"

"You have no need to face anyone," a strange voice said. "That sword is getting heavy. You really want to put it down, maybe take a nap."

A tall, sandy brown wavy haired, tanned woman stepped out of the ranks of Immortals. Her light eyes locked in on the glowing ones of Arphael.

"This fight is pointless. And you hear the wisdom of the one encouraging you to let go. Let go..." said Cassandra, walking towards Darius, hands empty.

Arphael looked lost for a second, weary, "Yes, the centuries of cleansing, more of waiting, have been long. It's time...it's time...to take your pretty head!"

He swung on Cassandra. She dodged the first one, caught the second one, and went down, spitting blood, her breath rattling. The Immortal witch stared at the dark haloed bellowing man above her, poised.

"I don't think so," a voice rasped, familiar to Cassandra and many of the other Immortals present. "You will be claiming no lives today."

He looked at Cassandra, "Nice trick. Does it ever work?"

Cassandra wince, "Sometimes. It can be touch and go."

Arphael turned to meet the stranger. He saw a wiry, strong, confident Immortal with dark eyes and sandy blond hair. His accent was odd, not quite fitting anyplace.

"Who are you?" Arphael asked the Immortal as he stepped out of Holy Ground.

"I am Connor MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod."

Arphael started, then began laughing, "Oh, this is RICH! The other MacLeod, the less rigid one. Well, you'll need that flexible trait, if you plan on stopping me, Connor."

"Why would that be?" Connor asked, his dragon katana poised.

"Why, Connor, I'm your earnest cousin's SON!"

Arphael's chilling laughter rang out...