Tainted Love

Chapter Two: Malchior of Nole

A dim room met him when his eyes opened. Candles were lit, their light scents lingering in the air. A grand mirror was suspended above a dark oak dresser, and bouquets of dried flowers hung on either side of it. Books were assembled onto shelves against a wall, and various objects of the strange and occult were arranged in different parts of the otherwise neat room.

How long had he been unconscious? More importantly, where was this place?

He was lying on something soft, and a thick blanket was covering him. He felt a stinging pain in his abdomen, and his hand automatically went to one of the wounds that his attackers had inflicted upon him earlier.

His fingers didn't find a slowly mending scar, but rather the feel of cotton fabric. He propped himself up with his arms, and found that he was shirtless. Bandages were wrapped snugly around his wounds, stained heavily with dried blood. He saw something lying on the dresser and discovered that it was his now tattered shirt, his black scarf, and his armor.

He suppressed a groan, and lied back down. His head was throbbing terribly, and pain wracked every inch of his body. He rested his head against the softness of the pillow, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. The room was very dark, save for the lit candles, and it was comforting to him. He didn't know whether it was day or night, but he was too exhausted to care.

He heard a door open and instantly closed his eyes, feigning unconsciousness. The door closed with a small creak, and he heard soft footsteps approaching him.

A slim arm slipped underneath his back, supporting him slightly above the mattress. He could feel the bandages unraveling slowly, the bits of gauze removing themselves from the wounds.

He knew that this wasn't being done by someone's hand; the person who was holding him up was casting a spell.

He was lowered gently back down on the mattress. A pair of small hands pressed gently against the exposed wound that ran across his abdominals. The skin of the slender fingers was soft and warm, but he fought back the urge to open his eyes.

Suddenly, a strange sensation overtook him. He sensed that the hands were emanating some form of energy, and his whole body began to tingle. The experience wasn't painful, it was quite the opposite. It was as if the pain was leaving him little by little. His wounds didn't ache nearly as much, and he could even feel them mending themselves.

Unable to restrain his curiosity, he cracked his eyes open. Through his long silver bangs, he found her above him with her hands placed on his wounds.

Her eyes were shut tightly in concentration, and shimmering blue light engulfed her hands.The expression on her face was that of pain, and he realized then what she was doing.

She was healing him, and although it was obvious that she was injuring herself, she didn't break the spell.

However, everyone had their limits, and it was inevitable that she couldn't take anymore. Her hands left his wound and she could no longer stand. He feigned sleep once more as she struggled to regain her composure, her breath coming out in heavy pants. In a few more moments, she recovered, and he then heard the sound of water splashing. It became clear to him shortly when he felt a damp cloth upon his wounds. She was cleaning them now, and with great care. Next, he felt her applying some sort of balm; whatever it was, it stung slightly at first and then became surprisingly cool and soothing. Afterwards, he felt the familiar cotton fabric of gauze and bandages as they magically wrapped themselves around him with the help of the girl who was weaving the spell.

He expected her to leave after she was finished caring for him, but he didn't hear her footsteps heading toward the door. In fact, she remained close to him at his bedside. He could almost feel her breath on his flesh, and he knew those dark purple eyes of hers were staring at him, but he didn't flinch.

"...how did you get here?" he heard her ask softly. "Did you know that I was here? Did you know that this was where you would find me?"

He didn't even know where 'here' was, but she sounded so pleading that he was compelled to answer her.

But even so, was the question directed towards him, or was she expecting someone completely different to answer?

"I really hope that you're him...I really hope that you're Rorek..."

The last words were a whisper, almost inaudible, and he felt the mattress slightly depress as if a weight had been placed onto it. After a few minutes, he peeked through his bangs again and saw that she was sleeping soundly next to him, her head resting on her arms which were folded upon the mattress. He seized the opportunity and took this moment to examine his host.

And he found that she was indeed a beautiful creature.

She was the night personified in all its dark splendor. Her face and full lips were pale, like the moon shrouded in shadow, her short hair was the same dark shade of violet that painted the night sky after the light of the sun was nowhere to be seen. The red gem gleamed faintly on her forehead like a lone star above her closed eyes, which, for some reason, he wanted to see.

He remembered her eyes very well. Pools of dark amethyst that he found to be mysterious, yet alluring all the same. Like the stars at night, they seemed to glisten faintly with a silent beauty that many would spend their whole lifetimes to comprehend. Stoic, yet passionate, dark, yet enthralling...there was much more to this girl that lied beneath the surface. Her eyes said it all. He just knew it.

A quiet moan escaped her lips, and her head shifted slightly against her arms, causing a strand of her hair to stray across her face. He felt an urge to push it back, and did so. He gently tucked the strand behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek. Unsatisfied with just that light contact, he gently cupped a side of her lovely face with his hand. He savored the softness of her skin; it was like silk pressed against his palm. And for some inexplicable reason...the sight of her was extraordinarily calming.

He wasn't sure how long he was asleep, but he knew this: she had taken great care of him. She had even gone to the means of healing him herself, and it was clear to him that she used so much of her own strength that the process left her exhausted to the point that she practically passed out, like she was right now.

Such consideration and gentleness, and all for his sake...or was it?

Her last words confirmed it. Although she wasn't absolutely certain, the girl believed him to be someone that he wasn't. The one she called 'Rorek' had passed on, but he couldn't very well tell her that. At least not now.

She looked peaceful sleeping, so much in fact that he almost regretted having to tell her the truth. How would she react when he would tell her that he wasn't Rorek, but someone completely different? Would she be frightened that she had been caring for a complete stranger? Would she reject him like so many had done before her?

Those questions would be answered some other time. For now, all he wanted to do was look at her until he fell victim to the inescapable clutches of sleep. As the moments passed, his hand left her cheek and rested against his side. He was cast off into the arms of a dreamless slumber, her sleeping form the last thing he saw before he succumbed to darkness.

Azar was worried, and she had good reason to be. Her apprentice has hardly taken a step out of her room for several days now. She was absent at the temple, nowhere to be found at meal times, and she didn't even take the time to meditate. It seemed that every waking moment she was tending to that strange young man she found bleeding to death in the forest. She remembered Raven bringing in his unconscious form and helping him to her bed. And despite the fact that she could only heal small wounds without doing much damage to herself, her apprentice used her powers to heal the young man's serious injuries. Azar had to nearly beg her to not go past her limit, but she would often find an exhausted Raven asleep at her guest's bedside.

The way that her apprentice was acting around this stranger disturbed her. She was taught to suppress all emotions. Raven was caring for this boy with such tenderness. Whenever she would look at him, Raven would get a distant look in her eyes that spoke of a despair that she hadn't seen since her mother died eight years ago. Even though she was now sixteen years of age, she still looked like that sorrowful little girl that she found in the rubble of a destroyed home.

Because Raven was like a daughter to her, Azar felt that it was wrong to look into her mind for the reasons to her strange behavior. It was obvious that this young man was someone that she knew, but how?

She stepped into the candlelit room of her apprentice, who was at the young man's bedside. Azar approached her, and placed a hand onto her shoulder, almost startling her as she did.

"Child," Azar addressed her, "how are you?"

"I'm fine," she quickly replied, getting up to her feet.

"I see that you've taken up a bit of reading," the older woman said, implying the open book that laid forgotten on the floor next to Raven's feet.

"Yeah, I read a few chapters."

Raven's eyes darted downwards towards the sleeping boy, and Azar took note of it.

"I have not spoken to you for a while, and I was wondering if you would accompany me for some tea?"

She nodded, guilt apparent in her features. "Sure, I'll get it ready."

Raven left the room to prepare the tea, leaving the priestess alone with the seemingly unconscious young man. She studied him with scrutinizing eyes, wondering what it was about him that compelled Raven to be by his side constantly.

"It's quite rude to stare at people, you know."

She was surprised to hear the voice telepathically communicating to her, but she was quick to respond. "And it is rather deceptive to feign unconsciousness as well."

"Not very trusting of me, are you sorceress?"

"Why should I be?"

"No need to be hostile, woman. I am not harming anyone."

"Perhaps, but that is because you are incapable of doing so."

The voice chuckled. "If you're concerned about the girl, don't be. I have no intentions of hurting her."

"Then what are your intentions?"

"Well now, that's a bit personal. I'm afraid that I can't tell you."

Azar concentrated and tried to enter his mind, only to be blocked immediately.

"Don't even try it," he threatened.

Her lips settled into a deep frown. "Hear me now. If you harm so much as a hair on her head—"

"Are you deaf? I told you that I have no intentions of hurting her. Besides, it isn't me that you need to be worried about."

His words were stern and somewhat protective as if he was telling the truth, and his last sentence only produced more questions. Normally, she was more trusting of people, but there was something unsettling about this young man that made her wary of him.

"Azar, the tea's ready," Raven's voice broke her thoughts, and she turned away from the bed to her apprentice. She followed her out of the room, throwing one last stern look at Raven's guest before shutting the door.

They both sat at the table, two mugs and a kettle full of tea waiting for them. Raven began drinking hers, and Azar did the same.

Although she appeared to be unemotional, the priestess knew that she was anything but. The arrival of her new guest sent Raven into a state of restlessness that Azar had never seen.

If she wasn't going to look for the answers she wanted by probing her mind, then Azar would have to directly confront her about it.

"Raven?"

Her lips left the edge of the mug and she looked at her.

"That young man...you know him, do you not?"

"...yes, I do."

Seeing her hesitation, Azar decided to continue. "How do you know him, child? Is he an acquaintance of yours?"

Raven took another moment to sip her tea before speaking again. "He's someone that I knew from Earth."

Azar was surprised at the information. She never knew that Raven came into social contact with anyone else other than her mother. "A close friend?"

"I guess you can say that. When I was eight years old, I met him in the forests that surrounded my house."

"When was that?"

"A week before my mother died..."

Raven trailed off, and silence prevailed between them. The scars of her mother's death were still apparent, despite her efforts to seem impassive. Azar couldn't blame her; Raven was a child, and to witness the murder of her mother without comprehending death was horrible beyond words.

"Raven," she spoke gently, "are you certain that he is who you think he is?"

The violet-haired girl stared at her, seemingly unaffected by her doubt. "He has to be him, Azar."

Azar bit her lip before asking, "But how do you know it is him, child? It is unlikely that a boy that you met eight years ago could possibly find out your whereabouts and know that you have been living in an alternate dimension—"

"Rorek isn't a normal human," Raven interjected. "He can cast magic."

Azar assumed that Rorek was the name of the young man. "Still, few people know how to reach Azarath. One must be extremely skilled in the field of magic to successfully open a portal to here. How is possible that someone you knew as a child could possess that kind of power?"

Raven was quiet as she contemplated her mentor's words, but she spoke, "Azar, I can't explain it, but I know that he is Rorek."

"Do you know it is him, or do you want to believe it is him?"

Her question struck her apprentice speechless. The fragrant aroma of the tea drifted lazily in the air, the silence all the more awkward and overbearing. Azar never interrogated Raven like this, but she didn't like the way she was behaving around this boy. What bothered her more was the possibility that the young man might end up to be someone completely different, and she was afraid of how Raven would take it.

"I'm...I'm not sure," her voice was quiet, "but I just...I don't know. Even though I'm not absolutely certain, I feel that he is Rorek."

"Raven, I just do not want to see you hurt."

She smiled slightly. "I know, Azar. But...he was the only one who wasn't scared of me. When he found out about my powers, he didn't run away. Even if it was for a short while, he made me feel accepted for the first time in my life. Perhaps it's childish of me to think that I actually have found someone that I haven't seen for so long, but I guess I can't help that."

After listening to that, Azar couldn't bring herself to tell Raven about what the young man had telepathically said to her. She meant it when she said she didn't want to see Raven hurt, and she didn't want to be the one to do it. Time could only tell if that boy was who Raven said he was, and she would have to wait until then.

But no matter the outcome, no matter if that man turned out to be this 'Rorek' or not, one thing was for certain: Azar would be there for Raven. She was the daughter she never had, and nothing was ever going to change that.

Everything was consumed in fire. The flames licked hungrily at anything that was in its path, and heavy smoke curled thickly from the destruction. Screams of torment rang horribly through the air like a grotesque melody. The thick scent of blood intermingled with the clouds of ashes that rose from the fire, which continued to feed insatiably.

Darkness prevailed over the rising flames, and among the shadows, someone was watching. Two pairs of thin slits of golden light overlooked the chaos with much enjoyment. Lips curled into a sadistic smile, revealing rows of pointed fangs. Twisted laughter was heard among the agonized screams, and the golden eyes continued to watch as more blood tainted the air...

Raven woke with a start to discover that she was in her room by the white-haired boy's side. Her head was aching and beads of sweat formed on her brow. Her heart was beating irregularly, but she tried to calm herself in spite of that. After all, it was only a nightmare. It's not like any of that really happened...

But that was what she was telling herself every time she had that dream.

It was the same nightmare over and over again, and she was very uneasy about it. She could actually feel the ashes and the embers of the fire, she could smell the blood.

And those eyes...they haunted her even when she was awake. They were cold and merciless. She saw them every time in her dreams, and what was strange was that she felt like she saw those eyes once before.

She heard a slight groan, and her eyes fell upon the unconscious form of the young man in her bed. He has been unconscious for over a week now, but his wounds were surprisingly healing at a rapid rate. Even with her powers, it would take much longer for a normal human being to recover from what he had gone through. In fact, it was a miracle that he was alive.

He was skinny, but she could still make out the lean muscles underneath the bandages. His long white hair was sprawled against the pillow and mattress, his bangs practically covering his closed eyes. His face was slightly feminine, and his long lashes added to that, but he was still attractive in his own way. In fact, she thought that he was very handsome.

She felt her cheeks getting warm, and she was embarrassed. She shouldn't be thinking about those kinds of things, especially about a childhood friend. It was wrong.

Still, she couldn't help but look at him. Knowing that he was actually here was something that filled her with a happiness she hadn't experienced since the days she would spend with Rorek when they were children. Raven was looking forward to the day he would wake up. There was so much that she wanted to know, and she had a lot of things to tell him as well...

An ominous feeling suddenly gripped her heart, breaking her reverie. She could sense something very dark manifesting, but she didn't know what it was. There was a malicious force entering Azarath, and it was intent on achieving its goal. Whatever that was, Raven felt that it couldn't be good. Something was going to happen, something terrible...

Screams broke the tranquil silence, and crimson light flashed in the darkness outside. Before she could even react, a beam of blinding red light shot through her room, decimating part of the roof above her. She quickly put up a shield around her and Rorek, protecting them from the falling rubble.

When the dust cleared, the fact that most of her room was now lying in ruins didn't phase her. What she saw was utter destruction.

Houses had collapsed into heaps of debris, and flames were devouring them. She saw bodies lying outside, some groaning in pain, and others not moving at all. The scent of ash and smoke was overbearing, and the cries of sorrow and bewilderment rose from the chaos.

Raven was sickened and frightened by what she saw. Any form of violence was forbidden on Azarath, and someone had broken that sacred law.

The trail of destruction led to the temple, where the daily prayer service was being held. Azar was sure to be there...

She cast a glance towards Rorek, who was undamaged by the attack. She didn't want to leave him here by himself, but she felt that he would be safe here for the time being. Whoever did all this was heading to the temple, and she couldn't just stand here doing nothing.

Slipping her hood over her head, she levitated off the ground and headed to the temple.

There were five of them. All of them were wearing black cloaks that hid their faces from view. They all had the same air around them; sinister and remorseless.

Her followers were crowded behind her, both the elderly and the young looking at the outsiders with fear and apprehension in their eyes. The priests were at her side, but they too seemed petrified with horror.

She took a step away from the crowd, her deep red robes setting her apart from the others. "Strangers, why have you disrupted our prayer?"

The leader stepped forth and replied, "You know why we have come, priestess."

"I am afraid that I do not," she stated firmly.

"Do not play games with me, woman," he threatened. "We have come for the child."

"Look around you. Every man and woman you see before you is a child of Azarath," she said, gesturing to the crowd.

The cloaked figure chortled. "I could not care less for you worthless bunch of wretches. What we want is the girl. And believe me..."

Without warning, a ray of blood red light sent one priest beside her flying against a pillar. Cries of alarm and fear sounded throughout the crowd as some gathered to help the fallen man.

"There will be consequences if our demands are not met." He finished, his lips twisted into a sardonic smile.

She always feared that this would happen. Today was the day that they had finally arrived for her young apprentice. They have come for Raven, and they seemed to go to any lengths to get her.

What was she to do? To fight back would be a sacrilege. How could she preach pacifism to her followers if she didn't uphold the values of her own teachings? But she wasn't going to give them Raven. She promised Arella that she would take care of her daughter. And who knows what will happen if he were to ever be revived again...

"Quit stalling, priestess," he hissed. "Either give us the girl, or else—"

A pair of large objects engulfed in black flames hurdled themselves toward the cloaked figures and knocked them down onto the floor. She saw that they were the double set doors of the temple entrance, and her eyes went from the fallen men to the hooded figure of the girl that attacked them.

The leader was the first to stand, and he too saw the girl. "Raven of Azarath, I presume?"

She glowered at him menacingly. "And you are?"

"My dear, we have been looking for you," he spoke as his followers slowly got back onto their feet. "Now that you are here, you must come with us."

"Why should I?" she snapped.

He chuckled. "Our master wishes it. He is expecting us to bring you to him, and we are not leaving without you."

"Tell your master that I'm not going anywhere," Raven replied, her hands glowing black with energy.

"I beg to differ," he answered calmly. "For if you don't, we will destroy what is left of your home and slaughter every man, woman, and child here. Starting with the priestess."

The crowd broke into a tumult, cries of horror and anxiety echoing off the temple walls. Azar stared at Raven, whose hands stopped emitting magic and rested limply at her sides, her dark eyes glaring at the cloaked figures.

"So have we reached an agreement?"

"No!" Azar cried, running towards them. She wasn't going to let this happen; she knew Raven would concede if their lives were at stake. "You will not take her—"

She was sent reeling back with a powerful spell. Her robed figure was sprawled onto the ground, jolts of red energy entrapping her.

She heard the screams of her followers as she fought back the pain, but none of them dared to take the risk of touching her. The spell was too strong, and she was unable to break it. The pain didn't stop until she heard a familiar voice crying out over the chaos.

"Stop it!" Raven shouted, her words desperate and almost begging. "I'll go with you, just stop!"

The cloaked figure smiled again, and he released Azar from his spell. "Very well then."

The leader approached Raven with his allies trailing behind him, and they walked out of the temple. Ignoring the pleads and questions of her followers, Azar struggled to her feet and followed them. She limped through the ashes and debris, wanting nothing more than to stop Raven from leaving Azarath.

She could see them entering the forest, where she knew the portal would be waiting for them.

"Raven, stop!" She cried, but their figures disappeared into the darkness. She tried to run faster, but she tripped and fell onto the ground.

"High Priestess, are you all right?" someone questioned, and she felt two pairs of arms lifting her up to her feet.

"Release me!" she shouted. "I have to go after her!"

"You cannot! They are far too powerful to fight! High Priestess, there is nothing that we can do!"

Her attempts to struggle were futile, and for the first time in a long while, she felt her eyes stinging with tears. Frustration and guilt ate her from the inside. She couldn't stop them from taking her, and now...she didn't know what she could do. She would die if she went after them, but what was going to happen to Raven? How was she going to return...?

"Count on a bunch of priests to do nothing while a beautiful girl is being kidnapped."

All eyes were fixated on the tall, slim figure of a young man that stood above the ruins of what was once her apprentice's room. His ice blue eyes seemed to mock them, and his long white hair fell against his back. He was wearing strange armor, and his face was partially hidden by the cloth of a black scarf.

"No wonder I never had much faith in religion," he mused.

"She willingly went with them!" a priest shouted. "We could do nothing about it! It goes against our teachings of pacifism—"

"Pacifism? You actually practice that garbage?" he taunted, chuckling as he did.

"It was her choice to go with them!" another voice yelled.

"And you all seemed to be all right with it. You allowed a helpless girl to go with those men because you were too spineless to fight back. It doesn't matter to you whether or not they kill her, you just want to save your own skins, right?"

No one answered, and the young man just laughed cynically at them. "Of course. Let someone else die for you, just as long as you don't have to."

He walked away from the ruins of Raven's room and headed towards the forest.

"Wait!" Azar cried after him, and he stopped. "You're going after her, aren't you?"

"Sorceress, I told you that you don't have to worry," he replied. "Whether you believe it or not, I'm the last person in this world that would harm her."

That being said, Azar watched him until he too disappeared into the shadows.

A barren wasteland stretched out before her, the horizon endless and foreboding. The sky was dark, and the wind was harsh as it bit through her cape. There were no signs of life, only emptiness.

Was this the same Earth that she was lived on? What happened to the people? What happened to the sun?

"Move along now," the leader of the cloaked figures chided her. "We have much ground to cover."

Restraining herself from striking him, she obeyed. If she made a run for it now, they would surely follow her and stay true to their threat. She would have to do as they said for now, at least until she felt that she wasn't putting the lives of the citizens of Azarath at risk.

Two men were walking in front of her while the other three brought up the rear. She was surrounded, but that would soon change. She'll get the opportunity to escape, she just had to wait for it.

Her eyes stared at the cloak that the man in front of her was wearing. Without a doubt, it bore semblance to the one that her mother's murderers wore. These men were connected with those killers, she knew it. Did Azar know that as well? Did she know that these men would come to Azarath?

Pained cries rang out, and she whirled around to see three cloaked figures collapsed onto the dirt. A bolt of white light sped past her and struck the man behind her.

"What in hell?!" The leader shouted, only to be knocked down by the same white light. He was on the ground, groaning with pain.

Raven examined the bodies before her. Neither one was making a sound, or even writhing in pain. She kneeled next to one of them and turned him onto his back and removed his hood. The whites of his eyes stared blankly up at her, and his slackened jaw hung open grotesquely.

Is...is he dead...?

"It's not polite to force a girl to leave her home, you know," a smooth, English voice spoke. She tilted her head upwards to see a young man standing beside her.

His hands and legs were protected with brilliant armor, and the letter 'M' was skillfully engraved on his chest plate, and a black scarf was wrapped around his mouth and nose. The wind ran through the endless locks of his white hair, and long bangs swayed above two blue eyes.

"And just who are you?!" the leader sputtered. "You dare to disrupt our plans?!"

"I'd say that I already have," he replied amusingly.

"Fool, you have no idea who you are dealing with!"

He drew closer to the fallen man, his footsteps heavy upon the dirt underneath them. "I know exactly who I'm dealing with."

The cloaked figure seemed to lose all confidence and he backed away as quickly as possible from the young man, but to no avail. He backed up against a tree, and he was too afraid to stand on his feet again.

The white-haired boy glared down at him, his lips forming a grin from underneath his scarf.

"A dead man."

And with that, bolts of white light formed from his palm and encircled the fallen man. He howled in pain, but his screams seemed to be like soothing music to his attacker's ears, for his spell intensified. The screams grew louder, and blood dribbled thickly from the man's mouth.

Raven couldn't stand to see anyone being tormented, regardless of what they have done. She stood up from the ground and rushed towards the young man.

"Stop!" she cried, and his blue eyes fell upon her. "Stop hurting him!"

To her amazement, the young man chuckled. "As you wish, love."

He ceased his spell, and the man was free of the bolts of light that bound him. He was violently coughing, blood running down his lips and fingers as his body shook uncontrollably. He looked up at his attacker and the violet-haired girl next to him, and scampered onto his feet and ran, almost tripping over his robe as he did.

Raven observed the young man beside her. Was this really the boy that she met as a child? Would Rorek ever have the cruelty to torture someone to death just as this person did now?

His eyes were not warm and kind like Rorek's, but they were rather cold and piercing like ice. And his voice...Raven was certain that Rorek's didn't have an English accent.

And she knew for a fact that he wouldn't find pleasure in killing others.

"You're...you're not Rorek, are you?" the question slipped from her lips, her worst fear embodied in the words she spoke.

He turned to Raven, his tall figure towering above her. "You are correct, fair maiden."

To make things more absurd, he bowed low before her, taking her hand into one of his. He pulled down his scarf, and his lips planted a soft kiss on her hand, sending delightful chills up her arm. His ice blue eyes looked at her from underneath his bangs, a charming smile lifting the corners of his thin lips.

"Malchior of Nole, at your service."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

FINALLY! I'm so happy to update this story, and with a fairly long chapter too! Yes, I know it still hasn't picked up, but it will in time. Thanks for all your support! I'm always happy to read your reviews.

Speaking of which, I have a few to answer!

Rhea Hiryuu: Lol, well here it is. I'm happy that you like reading this story, and I can't wait to read your sequel. Don't procrastinate now!

Blackshield: Thank you for leaving me an in-depth review. I'm glad that you think this story is wonderful, and yes, I too like to think that she was born with the chakra. Believe me, there will be lots of twists and turns in this story, and I hope to make the plot more complex. Yes, I know I make grammatical mistakes, but I have a habit to overlook them. Thanks for pointing them out, though. And I hope that this update has made you happy like the last one did.

Kagomeandinuyasha4ever: I appreciate the enthusiasm, I really do. I'll try to update both my fics as soon as I can, that is, if my research papers don't get to me first.

Red Moon Kree: I love your story The Paper Rose: it's beautifully written and I always look forward to the next update. I'm very flattered that you put this story on your favorites, and I think that you too are a great writer. Good luck on your next update!

Well, until the next chapter everybody. Thanks for taking the time to read and review!