Chapter I

Finding the Wielder

The young woman woke early. She had been awoken by her cat, which had never gotten out of the habit of walking across her early in the morning to wake her up.

"Go away. Give me ten more minutes," she muttered. The cat meowed and left, but the young woman did not manage to fall back to sleep. She climbed out of bed, wrapped up in her bathrobe, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. Her mother hadn't woken up yet. When she checked the time on the hall clock, it read 5:57 a.m. The young woman crept to the bathroom noiselessly. She turned on the water and took a long, hot shower.

She pulled on her robe forty-five minutes later and gazed into the mirror. The image looking back at her was a twenty-three year old woman, tall, slender, and with a somewhat larger chest than the average woman. Her curves were natural, causing every woman who saw her to become green with envy. She had black hair down to her waist, and brilliantly sapphire eyes. It was hard to believe that such a beautiful young woman had, until a few days ago, been the lead singer and guitarist of a half female, half male band. They were called Black Phoenix. Their specialty was remixes of past rock hits, but they did have quite a few original pieces. Unfortunately, they had begun to have arguments about the songs they performed. The young woman had decided that, for the good of the group, they should split up, at least for a little while, and do some of the things they had dreamed of doing earlier in their lives: get college degrees, get married, start their own families. They had begun touring when they were only fifteen, so their teenage years weren't exactly normal. The members were all from the same town, so they decided to go back to where they had lived as kids. This was where this woman was now- her old house.

The young woman lingered at her reflection for a few more moments and crept back to her room. The hall clock now read 7:03 a.m. She went into her closet and pulled out a black t-shirt and black hip-hugger bellbottom sweatpants. She dressed and went downstairs. Her mother had almost finished fixing breakfast.

"Morning, sweetie," she said cheerfully.

"Morning Mom."

"So, are you going to see Anselm today?" her mom asked.

"Yeah. We haven't seen each other in eight years. He probably doesn't even remember me," the young woman said sadly.

"Now, don't talk like that," her mother told her reassuringly. "I talked to him a few days before you got here," she said, putting a plate of pancakes and sausage in front of her daughter. "He misses you so much. He told me that he has all of your music chips,"

C.d.s were called music chips in the year 3025 A.D. since they were 2 inch by 3-inch squares made of metal and plastic.

"Really? We haven't put out a music chip in a while. Even at that, we never put our pictures on or in the cases," she moaned, a piece of sausage half way to her mouth. She slammed her fork down on her plate. "Besides, just because he has all our music doesn't mean he keeps up with the news about us."

"Well, somehow I think he'll know exactly who you are," her mother said, smiling and laying her hand gently on her daughter's shoulder.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Around 10:30 that morning, the young woman arrived at the dojo where she had learned to fight and defend herself when she was a preteen. She climbed out of her convertible and walked up to the door, black boots clomping on the sidewalk, chain belt jingling at her side. As she entered, she was greeted by a dozen kids putting on shoes to leave. A handsome young man with spiked black hair was talking to the kids as they left.

"I'll see you all on Monday. Have a good weekend," he called. As the last of the children left, the instructor made to go in his office. He hadn't even noticed the young woman.

"Somebody seems chipper today," she called. The young man stopped and stared at her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. May I help you? I'm kind of in a hurry," he asked hurriedly.

"Yeah, you can as a matter of fact. I was a student here almost a decade ago. Thought I'd come see what's changed. The school hasn't changed one bit," she told him, gazing around at the studio. She turned to the young man. "And neither have you."

"I'm sorry, but I don't remember you. Perhaps you mean my brother?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I mean you. But now that you mention it, how is he?" The young man looked at her with a worried look on his face.

"Don't worry, I'm not a stalker or anything," she chuckled. "Do you remember about eight years ago? A student you really cared about left to start a singing career with some of her friends around that time," Her old master still looked confused. "You never parted company without a kiss, no matter if anyone was watching or not. The two of you slept together once, too. You kept asking her to sleep with you again, you enjoyed it so much, but she always refused because it's against the law for people to make love to each other if one is an adult and the other isn't. You swore to each other that no one would find out about the one time."

"Stop it!" he yelled suddenly. "Just shut up! Yes, we kissed, but I never slept with her!"

"You don't know. You still don't remember. Would you recognize her if you saw her again?"

"Of course. How could I not? She was the most beautiful student I ever had," he said quietly.

"You've seen her, Anselm, but you haven't recognized her."
"How did you know my name? What are you talking about?"

"Maybe this will help your memory," she said, coming so close to him that she could see her reflection in his deep brown, almost black, eyes. She laid a hand on the back of his neck and kissed him. After pulling away, he looked relaxed and calmer than he had been before. He looked at her strangely.

"You still don't remember," she said quietly and sadly, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said to him, hand on the door to leave.

"Wait," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and took it. "I do remember. No one ever kissed me like you did. No one ever kissed me like Bergljot did."

Bergljot turned around swiftly to find a wide, opal smile on Anselm's face. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and kissed him again.

"God, I missed you," Anselm whispered. "I assume you haven't told anybody about…you know…what we did…"

"I guess you haven't either, the way you reacted when I brought it up," Bergljot replied, a few stray tears dripping down her face. "I'm so sorry I didn't tell you it was me, but I had to be sure that you…well, you know…"

"Remembered you?" he finished.

"Yeah. I mean, what would have been the point of me coming all the way out here and saying 'Hey Anselm its me, Bergljot!' if you didn't know who I was?"

They stood and laughed for a few minutes. Finally, something that had been bugging Bergljot burst from her mouth before she could stop it.

"Hey, how are things with you and Acacia? I know you got married just after I left. Have you become a father yet?" she joked.

"Actually, we got a divorce about six years ago," Anselm said, an unusually glad look on his face. Bergljot didn't catch it.

"I'm so sorry. I know you loved her."

"Correction. I thought I loved her. When you said you were leaving, I guess I just needed someone to fill in the gap in my life. After you left, I wasn't very happy. I was getting depressed. Acacia was furious. I would rarely have sex with her, so she demanded a divorce. I think we got along better when we weren't married, anyway," He smiled. "Between you and me, sex was the only reason she married me in the first place."

"Well, I'm glad you got a divorce. If she wanted a divorce just for that, she mustn't have been much of a wife," Bergljot said.

"Hey, how about having lunch with me? I'm going over to Gwandoya's house," Anselm asked her. "He missed you, too, you know."

"I would love to," she answered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anselm and Bergljot were soon riding down the road in her car towards the woods where Anselm and Gwandoya lived.

"There have been so many changes since you left. I finally got the pool installed in my backyard and my house by the lake is finished."

"How about Doya? Does he even go by that any more?"

"Yeah, he likes it better than his real name. He only lets family call him by his full name. Anyway, he and Gilda are doing okay. Zita is becoming such a beautiful young lady," Anselm explained.

"I can't wait to see my goddaughter. She's eight now, isn't she?"

"Hell, yeah," Anselm laughed. "Drives her parents crazy. Oh, I almost forgot. They had another baby about four months ago."

"Really? Boy or girl?" She inquired excitedly.

"Boy. They named him Omega. Cute as a button, too."

The two of them rode in silence down a dirt road (taking the right fork) that didn't seem to have an end. It was Anselm's turn to ask a question before really thinking about it.

"So, how many boyfriends have you had? All the tabloids say you've had a different one every day and that you've been dating the male members of the group."

"Well, with all the touring and being on the road so much, I really haven't had much time for one. I've talked to a lot of guys and done a lot of charities with other singers and actors, but I've never gone out with any of them. As for the band members, they're just my friends. Why do you ask? Are you…dare I say it…jealous, Anselm?" She gave him a criticizing look.

"I was just curious. I was wondering if the rumors were true," he replied hurriedly as they pulled into Gwandoya's driveway.

Anselm got out of the car and a very thin young man walked outside to see who was there.

"Oy, Gwandoya!" Anselm called.

"Hey, bro. What brings you here so early? Lunch isn't for another twenty minutes. Gilda was going to pick you up in a little while," Doya called.

"Class let out early and I got a ride from a friend. Traffic wasn't as bad as usual either," he said as he and Bergljot walked up to the porch. "Speaking of my friend, I brought her for you to meet."

"Hello. You know, you look very familiar. Have we met before?"

"I hope we have. I mean, I've only been the godmother of your daughter ever since she was born," Bergljot smiled. Doya stared at her for a moment, as though he didn't think it was her.

"Bergljot?" he finally managed to say. He looked at her closely. "Shit, it is you! I'd recognize your eyes anywhere!" He wrapped her up in a huge hug. "It's great to see you again. You've grown so much."

"In more ways than one," Anselm breathlessly muttered under his breath, taking a fleeting glance at her chest.

"Zita will be so glad to see you. She loves your music. Her mother and I won't let her listen to some of the more…err…adult songs, but she loves 'Black Phoenix.' She'll be so excited," Doya told her with a laugh.

They walked into the kitchen. A little black haired girl was climbing onto the counter.

"Zita! Get down from there!" Doya ran to get his child off the counter. "You're eight years old! You know better than that!"

"I'm hungry! I want a peanut butter and jelly san'wich."

"Alright. I'll get you a sandwich. Now go give Uncle Anselm a hug," he chuckled, shook his head, and began making the sandwich. Zita saw her uncle and ran to give him a hug.

"Uncle Anselm!" She wrapped her small arms around his waist. Anselm laughed and picked her up as if she were a flower. "I missed you!"

"Yeah, I guess twelve hours is a long time to a little girl."

"I'm not a little girl! I'm bigger then Omega!"

"You have a point there. Come here and meet your godmother," Anselm turned to Bergljot, who had been standing in a corner nervously. She jumped when she saw Anselm bring Zita over to her. Zita looked at her with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

"Hi Zita. You've gotten so big since I last saw you. You were Omega's age when I left."

"You're from 'Black Phoenix' aren't you?" she gasped.

"Yeah. Your daddy tells me you're a big fan." Zita nodded rapidly in reply.

"Lunch is ready, baby," Doya called to Zita. "Go to the bathroom and wash your hands."

Doya, Anselm, and Bergljot sat down at the table to eat their lunches. Just as they were comfortable, Zita was back.

"Daddy, Omega's crying and kind of stinks," she yelled to him. Doya rolled his eyes and stood.

"Would you two mind watching her? I'll be down in a minute," he muttered exasperatedly. He was gone the next second, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'I always hated being a freaking babysitter.' Zita sat down and began eating slowly, watching Bergljot unblinkingly the whole time.

"She doesn't have cooties and she doesn't bite, you know. You could be a little more polite," Anselm told her after a few minutes of this.

"No, it's okay, Anselm. I don't mind. Really," Bergljot assured him. Anselm shook his head and laid his hand on hers.

"Anselm and Bergljot, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Zita began singing through a mouthful of sandwich.

"Zita, leave them alone," Doya said, returning with a small bundle in his arms. "They haven't seen each other since you were born."

"Yes, sir," Zita said with a sad look on her face.

"And don't even think about giving me the Bambi eyes."

"Is that Omega?" Bergljot interrupted, sensing a family feud as Zita opened her mouth to argue.

"Yeah," Doya grinned. Bergljot could just see the baby's face through the oversized blanket. Doya had taken a bottle out of the fridge to feed him. "I hope you don't mind, but Gilda and I named you godmother to him, too."

"What would be the point of me being the godmother to one child and not the other?" Bergljot replied. "Speaking of Gilda, where is she?"

"Grocery shopping. She'll be back soon."

"Gwandoya, I'm back!"

"Soon meaning the next two seconds," Anselm joked. They all started laughing, even shy Zita. Gilda walked into the kitchen with two armloads of groceries.

"Here, let me help," Bergljot offered, relieving Gilda of a couple of bags.

"Thank you," Gilda said. Bergljot helped Gilda put everything away. Gilda was amazed that Bergljot didn't need to ask where to put anything. "Excuse me, but you seem very familiar. Have we met?"

"Yeah, mommy, she's m-" Zita was cut off by her father putting a hand over her mouth.

"Are you sure you don't recognize me? You're husband and brother-in-law did," Bergljot turned to face Gilda. She looked into Bergljot's eyes for the first time.

"OH MY GOD! Bergljot, is that you?" she hugged her almost as tightly as her husband had.

"No, it's her evil twin, and your breaking my ribs," Bergljot said sarcastically. Everyone in the room laughed, even Omega who was much too young to understand.

"You look great! Your sense of humor hasn't changed either."

"Your looking good, too, considering you had a baby four months ago. Congratulations," Bergljot smiled.

"Thank you. Speaking of which, give me my little one," Gilda walked over to Doya and carefully took Omega.

"He's so cute," Bergljot muttered.

"Yeah, he's getting more like his father every day."

"I am pretty good looking, aren't I," Doya said braggingly.

"Who said I was talking about looks? I was talking about how noisy he's been lately," Gilda shot back. Everyone cracked up. Even Doya couldn't resist laughing.

"Does Omega really need that big of a blanket?" Bergljot asked.

"Yes. You'd be surprised at how cold it gets in this house," Gilda said. "I don't want someone so defenseless catching a cold or the flu."

"He's still too young to get any major shots," Doya added. Gilda then left to finish feeding Omega (he had finished the bottle) and put him down for a nap.

"Zita, why don't you and I go upstairs and find a game to play or something?" Doya suggested.

"No. I want to talk to Bergljot," Zita whined.

"Baby, your uncle and godmother haven't seen each other since you were Omega's age and size. I think they want to be alone for a little while," Doya whispered to her.

"Oh I get it. You want me to leave so Bergljot and Uncle Anselm can make kissy faces at each other like you and mommy do late at night when you think I'm upstairs sleeping, right?"

"Zita. Come. Now," Doya took Zita's hand and took her upstairs. Just as he walked through the kitchen door, he looked back and told them, "Sorry for her little outburst. I'll come back down after I get her busy with something."

"Actually, we were going to go for a walk in the woods for a while," Anselm stood.

"We were?" Bergljot inquired as she stood, too. Anselm winked at her and gave her a play along sort of look. "Oh, yeah, we were. I don't know if we'll be back any time soon. I might head home as soon as we return."

"Alright," Doya winked at them. "We'll be here. Have fun and…uh…stay out of trouble, if you know what I mean," he winked again. As Anselm and Bergljot walked outside, they could hear Zita whining: "Why can't I go in the woods? I'm a big girl! Why can't I go with them? What kind of trouble will they get into?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bergljot and Anselm walked through the woods in silence, hand in hand for a while. They came to a small lake and sat down on one of the rocks by the shore. They took off their shoes and dipped their feet in the water. After a few minutes, Anselm looked out over the water and began speaking quietly to Bergljot.

"See that little box on the other shore? That's my cabin. I wish it had been finished when I was first married. It's a perfect place for a honeymoon," he whispered. Bergljot looked and saw a small cabin with a chimney.

"How many rooms are in it?" she questioned.

"Two. The smaller one is the bathroom. The living room, kitchen, and bedroom are all in the larger room. It's also got a deck out back. It stretches out to the lake, far out enough to fish."

They sat in silence again. So many thoughts were racing through their minds, neither of them knew which to bring up first. Finally, Bergljot mustered the courage to ask about something strange she had noticed about Doya.

"Is Doya alright?"

"Why do you ask?" Anselm looked at her quizzically.

"Nothing, I guess. Its just…" she trailed off.

"Just what? Come on, you can tell me. I still care about you, and from the way you've been acting, you still care about me."

"Well, I don't know. He looked…tired."

"He just had a baby, you know. There's nothing unusual about that combination." Anselm shrugged.

"I know, but it's something else," she began to think. "His eyes looked empty. He didn't look like he really comprehended what was going on. He looks like…well…I don't really know how to explain it. I guess…he looks like he's scared or something. Almost like he's been having really frightening nightmares that haunt him during the day, too."

"Well, he has been having nightmares."

"When did they start? What about? Or does he even share?" she asked.
"He's been having them every night for the past month," Anselm sighed. "The last one he told me about took place in a cave. He had followed a man there. A giant black thing swallowed him up at the entrance to the cave. The other man used some kind of device to make the monster back away and leave him alone. Doya saw through the monsters eyes as the man took something from a nook in the cave wall."

"What was it?" Bergljot asked, starting to get a little excited. Anselm hesitated a few seconds, but finally whispered to her.

"A scarlet, bloody, pulsating heart." Bergljot clasped a hand to her mouth as she regretted trying to visualize it.

"What kind of heart? Who's was it?" her voice shook.

"He's not sure, but it wasn't connected to anything. The scariest part was that it had to have been there for a long time, it was covered in dirt, but it was still beating, still red, and still had blood all over it and dripping out of the valves. Doya isn't sure what's causing the nightmares. He thinks they may mean something. A very bad something. He won't admit it, but Gilda says he's been waking up screaming and sweaty, sometimes even crying. He never wants to go back to sleep, and the dreams always happen at around two-thirty in the morning."

"Wow. Poor guy," Bergljot whispered.

"Lets not talk about that anymore. I want to talk about something else," Anselm stood and walked off the rock. He waded into the water until it was up around his knees and took off his shirt.

"You've got more muscle than the last time I saw you shirtless," Bergljot pointed out as she walked down to him.

"You're a bit…um…bigger yourself," he glanced at her chest again. Bergljot smiled sheepishly.

Fifteen minutes later, they were laying on the rock, soaked and laughing. Anselm gazed at Bergljot.

"You're so beautiful. Actually, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

"Thanks. You look even handsomer yourself," she gazed back at him. They sat up and Anselm took her face in his hand.

"You know, looking at you in this light, your eyes have a kind of glow to them. They look beautiful," he leaned in and kissed her slowly and gently. Bergljot smiled at him. "Hey, Bergljot?"

"Hmm?"

"How 'bout you spend the night tonight? It's getting kind of late and I don't want anything to happen to you on the ride home. That dirt road can be pretty dangerous at night with the forest animals walking across and being so poorly lit," he suggested, a slight glint in his eyes. Bergljot got a surprised look on her face. "Come on, we're both adults now. We won't get in trouble."

"It's not that. Anselm, I would love to, but I swore to my mom I would spend the first week at home with her. She's been so lonely since my father died," Anselm looked a little put out.

"Alright. Some other time."

"But you know, I could come next Saturday night," she said slyly. One of Anselm's trademark opal smiles spread on his face.

"Sounds great," he whispered and kissed her again. He put his shirt back on and Bergljot put on her boots and belt. When they got back from their walk, Doya and his family were sitting outside.

"Well, I've got to get going. It was great seeing everyone again. I'll be back next weekend," Bergljot told them. Everyone gave her a hug and kiss. Anselm walked her down to her car. He held her hands for a few extra seconds and kissed her.

"You're sure you won't change your mind? My offer still stands."

"Yeah, I'm sure. My mom is probably worried about me by now," she said. They kissed one last time and Bergljot got in her car and drove home, watching Anselm in her rearview mirror until the first curve blocked him from her view by trees.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A week later, Bergljot was driving back up the dirt road (this time taking the left fork in the road) to get to Anselm's house, right next door to Doya's. She got out of her car and was instantly pulled into a hug by Anselm. They kissed, and then brought Bergljot's sleepover things inside.

"I was thinking about going down to the lake around sunset. It's so beautiful that time of day."

"Sounds great," Bergljot agreed as they ate lunch. "You didn't plan my whole visit did you?"

"Of course. Not. I just figured we might go out to an early dinner, walk it off out back, maybe go swimming, and then go to bed. Course, we don't have to do all or just those things. We don't have to do it in that order if you don't want to, either," he hinted.

"Okay. This will be fun. What time is sunset tonight? About nine o'clock, isn't it?"

"I think so. I want to be in bed by midnight, though," they had finished lunch and were now sitting in the living room. Anselm moaned. "I'm so sore. Those little kids wear me out."

"Poor baby," Bergljot stood up and walked behind him. "Here, let me help," she said and began massaging his neck and shoulders. Anselm made sounds of pleasure at this gesture.

"Ooh…hmmm…that feels so good…ah…come here," he said and grabbed her arms, flipping her over the couch and into his lap. They started laughing hysterically for a few moments, and then kissed each other. "Now that's the kiss I remember…" he said softly. They sat kissing for a few more moments, but a knock on the front door interrupted them from continuing.

"Ugh. Let me go get that," Anselm rolled his eyes. Bergljot slid off his lap and he went to the door. Bergljot heard him talking to someone, and the next moment Doya was walking into the living room.

"Hey," was his short greeting.

"Hey. You okay? You didn't look like you were feeling well last weekend," she inquired.

"It's nothing," he said quickly. "I'm fine. Between the new baby and work and my…problems…at night, I'm pretty stressed and haven't been getting much sleep. That's all."

"You know, if something's bugging you, or you ever need to talk to anybody about anything at all, you can come to me. I don't know if I can help much, but if it'll make you feel better to just talk…" Bergljot trailed off. Doya had stiffened and looked slightly upset.

"I…no…see, I…just…never mind. It's nothing, I just…no, I can't," he stuttered. Anselm returned with a bag containing eggs and sugar.

"Have fun cleaning up after her," he chuckled.

"Thanks, man. Zita was really upset when we ran out of cookie ingredients. Have fun you two. Behave yourselves," Doya said as he left.

"Gwandoya, could I speak with you for a moment?" Anselm requested. Doya nodded and went to the front porch with his brother. "I'll be right back, babe," Anselm said as he went out the front door.

Bergljot sat and gazed around the living room. Pictures sat on the fireplace mantel. They were of everything: Doya and Gilda on their wedding day, their children, even Anselm on his wedding day. A couple of pictures in particular caught her eye. Bergljot walked over to the fireplace to look at them. One was of her and Anselm, sitting by the lake together, taken when she was fourteen. She could remember the day it was taken clearly. It had been her fourteenth birthday. Her mother had been out of town on business and Anselm had offered to take care of Bergljot, which he did very well. It was the first time she and Anselm had slept together. She could almost feel Anselm's hands running over her body. She shivered, trying not to think about it. Doya had almost caught them. Had he seen them, they would have been in deep, deep trouble. Had they been caught, Anselm would have gone to prison for ' contributing to the delinquency of a minor' and Bergljot would have probably gone to Juvenile Hall. Bergljot turned her attention to another picture. It was of Anselm and Gwandoya as teenagers, probably taken around the time their family moved to her town. It was unusual. They stood next what looked like a brightly colored spaceship. Anselm held some sort of staff and Gwandoya clutched a large, circular shield. Bergljot stared at it, eventually picking it up. She gazed a little longer. Suddenly, she felt as though she was being pulled backwards at a speed that felt faster than that of light. Scenes flashed past her eyes and surrounded her. They seemed somewhat familiar to her, although she couldn't remember ever actually seeing them. A voice that came from the back of her mind startled her. You are the one…who will open the door…to the light… The picture fell on the floor, glass frame shattering, and the next thing she knew, she was falling backwards, one arm outstretched as if reaching for an invisible person standing in front of her, the other arm slowly falling behind her to break the fall. Everything started turning black and the last thing she heard was Anselm screaming "Bergljot!" from what sounded like a great distance. The last thing she felt was him catching her as she completely blacked out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bergljot awoke and sat up quickly. As she did, a sharp pain shot through her head, so painful it caused her to see stars. She was blinded for a few moments as she was gently pushed back down.

"Lay still. That was a pretty nasty fall," came Anselm's voice. It sounded as though he was speaking through a pillow. Bergljot felt something soft and cold against her forehead.

"Anselm?" she whispered.

"I'm here, babe. You're okay. Everything's fine now."

"What happened? I was just looking at that picture, and the next thing I know I'm being pulled backwards and falling," she said weakly.

"Hush now. Don't say anything. You've had a rough time, just relax," he urged. But Bergljot was already sitting straight up and her eyes were wide open. The compress on her head slid off.

"You know why that happened, don't you? Why won't you tell me? I need to know. What the hell happened? I've never passed out like that. What the hell were those things you and Doya were holding? God, Anselm, why won't you an-" Bergljot started jerking and coughing. Anselm rushed a bucket into her hands and the next second she was vomiting in it.

"Babe, I'd love to tell you. You know I would," Anselm began, tucking Bergljot's hair behind her ears and out of her face.

"Then why…hack…won't you…ugh-huh…" she tried to say between heaves.

"Tell you? Well, it's not the right time. When the time comes, I'll explain everything. Why did it have to be that picture?" he wondered aloud, carefully picking up the shards of glass.

"I felt like I was being pulled to it. It was like it was calling me," she answered, wiping her mouth on a towel lying next to her.

"Then you must be…no, not you. It couldn't be…this must be a mistake…yes, a mistake, that's it…but still…it called to you…" he rambled on in this manner for a while, until finally Bergljot felt she would explode.

"What the hell are you talking about? Damn, why won't you tell me what's going on?" she screeched, resulting in another coughing fit. Anselm sat by her on the couch. He laid a hand on the one she clutched her heaving chest with. He clasped the other one with his other hand. Anselm brought his face inches from hers.

"Now listen to me. I will tell you everything if and when the time comes. I swear to you. Just promise me one thing," he said in a low voice.

"What's that?" she asked, trembling a little.

"Promise me that you'll never ask about this until that time comes. You have to swear you'll never bring it up. If you do bring it up, I'm going to ignore the question and I'll never tell you what happened. Promise me?" he pleaded. Bergljot took a deep breath.

"I swear on all that is Holy," she said, a tone of regret in her voice.

"That's my girl," he whispered as he made to kiss her.

"One question though."

"What's that? Remember, you swore," he reminded her.

"You don't have to tell me anything about the picture, but…how long was I out?" she asked quietly. Anselm sighed.

"About three, maybe four hours. I haven't left your side the whole time."

" I guess dinner's out then, huh?" she smiled weakly.

"No, we still have some time if we want to watch the sunset," Anselm told her and kissed her. "Do me a favor," he said, pulling away. "You wouldn't mind brushing your teeth, would you? No offense, but your breath tastes pretty bad."

"You don't think my throwing up has anything to do with it, do you?" she asked very sarcastically

"No, I can't see why it would," Anselm replied just as sarcastically. They hugged and laughed for a few minutes.

"Hey, Anselm, what were you and Doya talking about?" she questioned.

"Oh, nothing," Anselm replied quickly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Four hours later, they were pulling back up the driveway, stomachs full and belts considerably looser than they had been when they first went out.

"So, was it enjoyable enough?" he asked.

"Delicious. It was wonderful," she muttered sleepily.

"The night isn't over yet. Don't you go falling asleep on me, now." Anselm told her.

They got out of the car and walked into the woods. Anselm went off the path and told Bergljot to follow him. The woods were so overgrown that she could barely keep up.

"Do you know this is one of the most fertile, most pure areas left in the world? You wouldn't believe how many people want to buy my property. And the prices they offered! I'm telling you, what some people won't do to get a taste of the country life," Anselm laughed. In the woods, Anselm was nimble as a deer. He barely stumbled. He came to a large boulder, twice Bergljot's height, which sat by the lake. He climbed on top easily.

"Just because I was a singer and had to keep in shape doesn't mean I'm a freaking rock climber," she gasped. Anselm laughed and reached down to help her up. As she reached the top, she fell to her knees and gasped for breath.

"Why…the hell…did you…go off the…easy…path?" she panted.

"Why? Well, the path doesn't lead to such a beautiful place. You do realize it would look a whole lot better if you looked up," he pointed out. Bergljot stood and looked up at the sky across the lake. She gasped and stared wide-eyed.

"Oh, my god…Anselm, this is beautiful," she managed to say. She looked at him. "You okay?" Anselm was gazing out over the lake at the beautiful sunset. The sun was large and blood red, the clouds deep purple and light pink. The sky surrounding the sun was red, and the rest of the sky melted modestly from crimson to indigo. It looked as though someone had taken a paintbrush and watercolor paint, painted a sunset, and then spilled water on it, running the colors together. Anselm's eyes were filling with tears, and he was breathing shakily. He sighed.

"I'm fine. It's just…I'm a little nervous," he muttered.

"About what? We're pretty much in the middle of nowhere, there's no one around," Bergljot pointed out, walking up to him and laying a hand in his.

"Bergljot," Anselm said, squeezing her hand and gazing at her with a faraway look in his eyes. "I've loved you ever since we met when you were eleven years old. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known. Sit down," he told her. He let go of her hand and she sat on the highest point of the rock. Anselm walked a little lower and turned to face the lake. "I care more about you than anything in the world, even my own life," he turned to gaze at her again. The sun made him look as though he was surrounded by fire. He walked over to her and kneeled. He took her hand in his again and continued. "You're perfect. I've never felt this way about anybody else," he whispered. He took a deep breath and pulled a small box out of his pocket. When he opened it, Bergljot was shocked to see a diamond ring.

"Anselm…you mean…?" she whispered.

"Yes. Bergljot," he said, taking the ring out of the box and slipping it on her finger. "Will…will you marry me?" he proposed.

"Oh, Anselm," she was on the verge of tears. She smiled at him. "Any woman who would say 'no' has to be crazy. Of course I will," she whispered. They wrapped their arms around each other and kissed. After a few minutes, Anselm looked at her.

"How 'bout a swim before heading back?" he suggested. Shortly after, they were swimming in the lake together. When they got out and Anselm was about to put his shirt on, Bergljot stopped him.

"Why shouldn't I put it on?" he asked.

"Your tattoo. I love it."

Anselm had a tattoo of two dragons intertwined around a sword on his chest, right over his heart. Bergljot ran her fingers over it lightly. "It's so awesome."

"You do realize that now that you're part of the family, you have to get one."

"I do? Seriously?"

"Yeah, It's kind of a tradition. Every permanent member of our family has to get one. The tattoo is supposed to give protection to the person it's printed on. It's the family crest. It's kind of a belief that runs in my family," he explained. They had already started walking back to the house.

"What if we decide to divorce?" Bergljot wondered aloud.

"I don't see that ever happening," Anselm said, grabbing Bergljot by the shoulder and looking at her square in the eyes. He smiled and kissed her. They continued walking to the house, discussing wedding plans and their honeymoon. When they got inside, Anselm went upstairs to change for bed. Bergljot took a glance at the disturbing picture on the mantel.

It looks so familiar…she thought. It began calling to her again. She was half an inch away from touching it, arm raised to pick it up and gaze at it again, but a call from Anselm brought her back to reality. She lowered her arm, backed away and ran up to her new fiancé. When she got upstairs, she looked as though she had been badly spooked.

"You feel okay? You look pale and feel clammy," Anselm informed her, laying a hand on her face. "Look, if you don't feel up to this, we don't have to."

"No, I'm fine. I just…never mind," she wanted to scream at him and demand to know what the picture meant, but she remembered that if she mentioned it, she would never find out. She left to change into her nightclothes. When she got back, Anselm had lit some incense. She went up to him and kissed him.

"You look great," he whispered.

"You, too," she whispered back.

"Ready?" he laid his hands on her shoulders.

"And willing," she put a hand on his neck as their lips touched.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The new couple fell asleep around two o'clock that morning. Anselm lie on his back, one arm wrapped around Bergljot's shoulders, the other holding her hand. Bergljot lie on her side, stretched along his body, head resting on his tattoo, one arm across Anselm's chest, clutched in his hand and her other arm was under his neck and shoulder. They were the best-looking couple anyone had ever seen.

Anselm woke up around seven in the morning. He watched Bergljot sleep for a while. She was so beautiful, even when she was asleep. He finally leaned in close and gently kissed her forehead. Bergljot's eyes fluttered open immediately after.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hi," she said sleepily. They lie in bed for a few more minutes, enjoying each other's company. Bergljot sat up and made to get out of bed.

"Where're you going?" Anselm asked, sitting up and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I was going to go get dressed. Why? Want to help me?" she said in a voice as though she was talking to a baby. Anselm laughed and put his arm around her. They looked at each other and kissed.

"Hey, thanks. That was better than…well…you know, that other time," Anselm whispered as he pulled away. "Feeling better than last night?"

"Much, thanks for asking," she told him. "Look, I know I swore I wouldn't bring it up, but…"

"If you can't resist, go ahead. I'm not promising I'll answer, but since you just gave me the best night of my life, I'll let it slide this one time."

"Before I came up here last night, I took a quick glance at the picture. It was calling me again. I was about to examine it some more, but you called for me and I was brought back to my senses."

"I don't know what to tell you," Anselm said sadly. "All I can say is that you'll find out when the time comes."

"Alright. I'll wait," she smiled. She gave him a peck on the cheek and got out of bed to get dressed. Anselm watched her as she picked up her clothes and went into the adjoining bathroom to shower and change.

God, she's so damn beautiful. Just look at that body…no, no I can't get involved like that again. Not if she's who I think she is…Maybe Gwandoya can help…Anselm thought as he got out of bed. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and picked up the phone.

Next door, Gwandoya lay in bed, sweaty, pale, tired, and tearstains clearly visible on his cheeks. He jumped as the phone rang next to his bed. He picked it up slowly and said in a shaky voice, "H-hello?"

"Gwandoya, I need to talk with you."

"Anselm? What's going on?"

"I asked her last night."
"Really, what did she say?" Gwandoya asked excitedly.

"She said 'yes'. But that's not why I called," Anselm's voice trembled.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Anselm whispered. " Just after you left, I went back inside. Bergljot was looking at the picture of us and The Isra."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Doya said, shaking his head even though Anselm couldn't see.

"I'm not finished. When I saw her with the picture, she was staring wide-eyed at nothing, dropped the picture, and began to fall. I called to her, but she either didn't hear me or couldn't react. I caught her just before she hit her head on the coffee table. After she came to, she said that the picture had been calling to her. Bergljot told me this morning that it called to her just after we got back from the lake."

"You don't think she's…his descendant, do you?" Doya asked.

"I'm not sure. That's why I called. She kept demanding that I tell her why she reacted that way, but I told her I couldn't tell her until the time comes. She swore on all that was Holy that she wouldn't bring it up."

"You didn't sleep together last night, right?" Doya said, lowering his voice. "Right Anselm?"

"Actually, we did. Hey, I wasn't sure, okay? We're engaged now, you expect us to just sit around like a couple of old people?" Anselm hissed angrily at Doya's moan of frustration.

"Shit. You do know that you could have jeopardized this whole thing? If she gets pregnant, we can't travel to other worlds. All worlds will fall."

"What whole thing? He's dead. Our ancestors made sure of that a thousand years ago. Besides, we were very safe last night."

"I don't know about that. There's no such thing as safe sex any more. Anyway, you know those dreams I've been having?" Doya lowered his voice even more.

"Yeah?" Anselm took the hint and lowered his voice, too.

"Well, last night was worse than any of the others. I was in a laboratory. That man was working on something under a sheet on a table. There was a lot of blood. The last thing he put in the…whatever…was that heart from my dream last week. As soon as the heart was in, he started chanting. I tried to stop him, but I was in a glass canister filled with some kind of green fluid and electrodes were coming out of my nude body. I felt like some sort of experiment or something. Anyway, I was screaming and banging on the glass at the man to stop, but he either didn't hear me or didn't pay any mind. He got louder and faster. When he finished, the thing under the sheet started breathing and stood up. He saw the scientist, who explained what had happened to the other man. The second man asked what year it was and where he was. The scientist of course answered. The man thanked him and then…" at this point, Doya's voice was shaking and he started crying.

"What happened? Come on, Bergljot will come in here any minute. Just calm down and tell me," Anselm begged. Doya sniffed, took a few deep breaths, and continued.

"He stole the scientist's heart. Ripped it right out of his chest. The scientist gasped and vanished. The heart turned into a you-know-what. HE saw me. His orange eyes glowed with hate and he broke open the case. He reached in and…he…and he ripped into my chest and took my heart. I woke up screaming, crying, and sweating so much that nearly the whole bed was soaked. Gilda woke up and looked at my chest, right over my heart. She told me to go in the bathroom and look at it. I could barely stand, so she helped me into the bathroom. There was a cut over my heart. Right in the middle of my tattoo. I couldn't sleep after that. That was at two-thirty this morning."

"Oh, shit…" Anselm whispered. Bergljot came out of the bathroom. He didn't even notice. "So…you mean…He has…"

"Yeah. We need to be on our guards. I now know what these dreams mean. They were warnings. Anselm," Doya began crying again. "He has been revived. He has returned." And he hung up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anselm and Bergljot had dinner at her house that night. During dessert, they decided that they had better tell Bergljot's mother.

"Hey mom, umm," Bergljot tried to say.

"What is it? You know you can tell me anything," her mom said sweetly.

"Maybe I should tell her," Anselm suggested. Bergljot nodded in agreement. "I love your daughter very much. She's the gentlest, most beautiful woman in the world. If you would allow it," Anselm took Bergljot's hand. "I want your daughter to be my wife. I swear I'll take care of her for the rest of our lives. I'll treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I'll respect her, I'll be there for her," he let go of her hand.

"Well, Bergljot, is that what you want?" she asked her daughter.

"Yes, mom. I love Anselm. He doesn't treat me like most guys. He isn't after my money or anything. We deeply, truly love each other."

"Then I see no reason why you shouldn't be together. If that's what the two of you really want, I don't see why you two should be separated. My best wishes to you both," she said as she reached across the table and laid their hands together. "If that ring is any indication, it doesn't look like I'll be able to stop you, anyway." The three of them laughed.

After dinner, Anselm and Bergljot sat on the garden swing out in Bergljot's garden. They kissed for minutes at a time. Finally, they began talking about the wedding.

"Should it be in a church or outside?" Bergljot wondered, her head on Anselm's shoulder.

"I think we should choose a date first," Anselm suggested, his head resting on hers, holding her hands.

"Guess you're right. They say you should be engaged for at least six months before getting married. How about early July?"

"Sounds great. How about a garden wedding, then?"

"I just had a better idea. How about we have the wedding at a church and the reception at a garden?" Bergljot excitedly suggested.

"Perfect. How about our honeymoon?" he asked.

"You said your cabin would be the perfect place for a honeymoon. We won't be too far from family if something happens, and if we run out of food there or anything we can just walk to your house, pick up the stuff, and be back in less than a day."

"I love it," Anselm leaned towards her and kissed Bergljot, something they had been doing quite a bit the past few days. Bergljot pulled away with a worried look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Anselm asked.

"I'm beginning to have second thoughts," she whispered.

"What? Why? If it's something I've done tell me, I won't do it any more," Anselm began to panic. "You're the most beautiful woman in the world. I don't want to lose you."

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just…" Bergljot hesitated. She finally blurted out, "Just because I'm not singing anymore doesn't mean I'm not going to be hounded by reporters."

"So?" Anselm shrugged and shook his head.

"So the tabloids will be making up all these stories about us."

"And your point?"

"Look, I don't want you getting hurt or anything. Your family will read the stories and think both of us have become…oh, I don't know…sluts or something like that. Doesn't that bother you?" Bergljot was shocked to see Anselm staring at her, glaring at her.

"Why would that bother me?" Bergljot's jaw dropped. "Look, as long as we know the rumors aren't true and as long as we love each other it doesn't matter what the papers print. I'm not going to let it get to me, and I suggest you don't let it get to you either," he leaned in and kissed her again.

"I guess you're right. I'll try," she whispered.

"I love you," Anselm said quietly.

"I love you, too," Bergljot whispered back. They kissed yet again, and Bergljot's eyes turned to the sky. "Oh, look! A meteor shower! I didn't know there was one tonight. It's so beautiful," she said. Anselm's eyes shot up. He turned pale. Silver and blue meteors were shooting across the twilight sky.

"Yeah…beautiful…" he muttered. He looked at his fiancée.

She has no idea…he thought, watching her stare in awe at the collapsing wall of a world, signaling its downfall. He clutched her hands even tighter.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A few months later, Bergljot was trying on her wedding dress, a seamstress making last minute adjustments. A knock on the door took Bergljot's attention away from the mirror she was admiring herself in.

"Can I come in?" came Anselm's voice.

"You do know it's bad luck to see the bride right before the wedding, right?" she laughed.

"Since when have you been so superstitious?" he demanded. "Can't I take a peek? Please?"

"Quit whining, I hate it when you do that. The wedding is in another hour. You can wait that long, can't you?"

"Alright. See you in a few," and he was gone.

An hour later, he was standing by a priest, family and friends standing behind him, his brother by his side. Bergljot was walking down the aisle. Anselm's breath caught in his chest. Her sleeves were connected to the rest of the dress at the armpits, and the sleeves were slit, halves connected at intervals by gold rings. A silver veil connected to a silver headpiece covered her face. Bergljot's dress was slit in the front, starting at her knees and continuing to her feet. White boots could be seen behind the belts that criss-crossed the slit. It was tight around the torso, making her chest seem even larger than it was. Her band members were shocked to see her wear white; they had seen her in black nearly every day since they began singing. Bergljot was the most beautiful bride any of the guests had ever seen.

A short while later, the gold wedding rings had been placed on the fingers, the vows were said, and the final 'I do's' were commencing.

"Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," Anselm said with a slight nod as if to confirm his decision.

"And do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," Bergljot answered with a slight glance at her new husband.

"If anyone here has any objections to the uniting of these two persons, speak now or forever hold your peace." Bergljot held her breath at these words. Gwandoya took a breath as if he was about to object, but he quietly sighed and remained silent.

"Well then. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Anselm turned to Bergljot and lifted her veil. She was wearing bright red lipstick and a tad bit of blush. Her eyelashes were big thanks to the mascara. Anselm was taken aback. His eyes looked as though he were dreaming. They shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bergljot and Anselm took a limo to the garden where the reception was being held. As soon as they got there, everybody wanted to talk to the newlyweds at once. Anselm and Bergljot approached her mother first.

"You look beautiful," she hugged her daughter, tears filling her eyes. "If only your father could see you."

Bergljot's father had been killed when she was thirteen by a drunk driver. She missed him terribly, but touring had helped get her mind off of it.

"I miss him," Bergljot said sadly.

"Try not to think about it. This is a happy day for the both of you."

Anselm and Bergljot walked away and approached Gwandoya and his family.

"Congratulations. You looked beautiful up there," Gilda hugged both of them.

"I like your dress. It's pretty. Can I have it for my wedding?" Zita complimented.

"Ick," Omega exclaimed.

"Well, that's your opinion," Bergljot said to him. Everyone started laughing except Gwandoya. He was standing away from them, keeping a close eye on his sister-in-law. Bergljot saw this and walked up to him.

"I guess we're brother and sister now," she said casually.

"Don't expect me to call you 'sis' or anything," he muttered bitterly.

"What's wrong? You looked like you wanted to object to our marriage. Gwandoya, why won't you talk to me?"

"The girl's a genius!" he exclaimed to her sarcastically. He started walking away. "Oh, and don't ever call me Gwandoya again. You may be my brothers wife, but that doesn't make us family."

As he walked off, Anselm laid a hand on her shoulder.

"What's his problem? He was always so nice to me, but now that I'm family…"

"He just doesn't know how to react. To him, you're still one of our students. Gwandoya just can't accept the marriage of a student to her instructor. He thinks it's improper and a sign of disrespect," he shrugged. "He has…a lot on his mind right now. Give him some time. It'll just take him a little while to adjust." The couple stared after him as he sat by the fountain and gazed into the water.

The couple had cake a few minutes later. A short while later, they were shocked to hear Black Phoenix pick up their instruments and microphones and begin singing, even though they were a member short.

"This song is dedicated to our best friend, the bride, Bergljot," said the backup guitarist, Zimli. Everyone applauded as Bergljot's face turned bright red. "Also to her new husband, Anselm. Congratulations, and the best of luck to you both. Anselm, you couldn't have married a better person." The band started playing one of their very few slow songs. Anselm offered his hand to Bergljot. She took it and they began dancing slowly. More people joined in moments later. The wedding would have been perfect, if only Gwandoya could have accepted the marriage.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three hours later, Anselm and Bergljot arrived at the cabin. He carried her across the threshold and kissed her before sitting her back down. Bergljot gazed around the cabin. A fireplace stood on one side of the room, a rug in front of it and a bed right across the room. A refrigerator stood in a corner with a stove, sink and counter space. A small table with two chairs sat by the fireplace. A dresser sat behind the front door. Another door next to the bed led to the bathroom.

"Anselm, this is wonderful. It must have cost you a fortune," she whispered.

"Not quite, but close enough. You looked beautiful this afternoon," he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Thank you. I wasn't sure if it was too much or too little."

"It was perfect…" Anselm gazed at her and they kissed. He walked over to the kitchen area. "Are you hungry? I can fix some dinner if you want."

"Yeah, I'm a bit hungry. Can I help?" she offered.

"No, I was just going to grill some chicken," he pulled some chicken out of the fridge. Two hours later, they were sitting on the rug in their pajamas, kissing and talking to each other about their future plans.

"I may take some online courses and get a college degree," Bergljot mentioned. "It's really not fair that you should work while I stay at home with nothing to do."

"You know, you're welcome to help me teach the kids. Most of them grew up listening to you. When I told them I was marrying you, they all wanted to come to the wedding," he laughed. Bergljot smiled. Her eyes had a dreamy look in them. The only light in the room was the light from the fire. She stared at Anselm. "What? You keep staring at me," he questioned.

"Your eyes. They look so mysterious and beautiful in the firelight. I never noticed how lovely they are," she whispered.

"Thank you," Anselm smiled. He laid a hand on Bergljot's face. "Your eyes look just like they did the night I proposed," he leaned in to her so far, she had to begin to lay back. They kissed more passionately then they ever had before, and lie there for what felt like the whole night, the warmth of the fire only intensifying the passion.

Okay, okay. I know the first chapter is a little…err…sensual, but it gets less so in the next chapter. Chapter one basically introduces the characters and their relationships towards one another. There will be parts like these periodically, but they will be very small. As for chapter 2, I will post it if I get at least 3 positive reviews, so send them in people! After the story 'heats up' a little, the number of reviews will increase, so you have been warned! If I get no readers or positive reviews, I will remove the story permanently. You will find that there are a lot of Final Fantasy crossovers, especially on the first world, and about halfway through there will be a continuous crossover. The characters are being based on people I know, so if you know me, look for a character that looks similar to you and has your attitude! I apologize if this is hard to read.