ME: Hi all, and welcomes to my first chapter fic in a very long time. This story came to be last year actually, when it was much less, and called Dragon Moon. It was pretty basic story to be honest, an Isaac/Mia thing set post-TLA. Never went anywhere, but out of it came the basic idea for this...

CHIBI JENNA: Now a year later, with a much, much better plot and far less romance, we bring you...Ragnarok!

ME: After the disclaimer, of course.

DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN IT. DO OWN A VERY LOVELY PLUSHIE LEGOLAS DOLL THOUGH...THE PRRRRECIOUS...

ME: Well then...enjoy.

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The Gods' swords shine in the darkness
Like stars in the night
Mountains collapse into rubble
And fiends shall fall
Man walks the road to ruin
As the sky splits in two

-Taken from the Norse poem, Voluspa.

-#-

The First Age:

At dawn there was an explosion in the sky.

This was the bringing of the age of humanity. It started as a tiny ball of light above the mountains, and then it spread, off in four directions to the corners of the continents.

And in those places, four structures of immense height and power shook and trembled as they were engulfed. As did the town and villages that surrounded them, gathered at their bases like the worshippers they were.

They were once the adepts. But after the dust cleared, they were gone. In each corner of the world only those great four great structures remained, robbed of their powers. There were no bodies, only dark clouds over the sky.

And in the place where the light had begun, the humans, the men of darkness drank to what they had done. For they, in the end, had been victorious. The war was over.

The light was out.

-#-

"And what does that prove?"

"That the humans will never understand."

-#-

Modern Weyard, two years after the lighthouses were re-lit:

Not many from town attended the funeral.

Standing round the gravesite, mostly, were young adults who stood there even in the rain, dressed in black and looking serious. The only others were the Mayor and a few parental figures who stood back, respectful of what they didn't know about the man they were burying.

There had been no eulogy, just a burial. It was all done with a speed that bordered on distasteful, but that, in retrospect, was probably how he would have wanted it. His life had been so long, so putting him to rest quickly just seemed the better way.

The rain got heavier, and the Mayor went home around noon. Soon, the rest of the adults followed suit, leaving only the seven who were assembled round the headstone.

"They don't understand." The oldest youth remarked, watching as his own parents disappeared into the rain. He was tall and lean and dark-eyed, with tangled dark brown hair that kept falling down in front of his face, though he made no movement to push it away. "They didn't want to be here at all."

"Would you, if you didn't understand?" A short young woman with dark red hair and similar features to the dark youth asked. There was an air about this girl, not quite arrogance, but still something. She didn't turn to watch her parents leave, and continued to gaze down at the grave with little respect. "It's not their fault."

"I think we should go in now." Another young man, big and strong with a crown of red spikes, currently plastered to his skull by the rain. His amber eyes showed neither sadness or mourning as he surveyed the sky. It was very dark. "It's going to really pour down soon."

"Alright." The girl nodded. "I don't fancy much getting soaked either." She turned to the others, who had so far been silent: two blonde youths, a blue haired man and another girl. "Coming?"

The youngest of the other four nodded. He was lithe and small, and his face was still that of a very young man's, even though his violet eyes were darkened with something like intelligence. "Right."

And the blonde girl agreed. She was the youngest of them all, and might have still been considered a child if things had perhaps been different. "There's a storm coming." And she could be sure of it.

The blue man agreed too, tilting his head upwards to feel the rain on his face. His headband, adorned with a circle of gold, was held in his hands in an old symbol of respect for the dead. "The rain won't stop tonight."

But the other shook his head. "I'm staying."

"But-"

"No. I want to stay. Just for a while." His tone left no room for argument.

The oldest, dark haired man frowned, but put up no resistance. "If you must." And with the others he departed, leaving only the most silent alone at the grave.

The last remaining mourner stared emptily down at the gravestone. His hair was dirty blonde and untamed, and fell carelessly in front of cobalt blue eyes.

"You knew, didn't you?" His voice was cold and empty, and if you knew, so different from what it used to be. "You knew this would happen, and yet you let us continue."

Of course, the gravestone did not answer, and the young man was left further unsatisfied. Dark images from dreams leaped out at his mind, swirling, manifesting themselves as questions. Ever since...

Things were not as they used to be.

The rain began to fall even harder, the first thrash of lighting tearing across the sky. The young man wiped the rain away from his eyes, suddenly feeling cold all over. It was time to go.

The dead would not answer his questions.

"Goodbye, Kraden."

-#-

"Can't you promise me anything?"

"I promise you this is not the end."

-#-

Whilst Vale was drowning, Imil was burning.

Bright amber flames flickered high against a calm blue sky. Snow on the ground melted into pools of liquid as the fire spread faster than lightning across the straw of the rooftop. It crackled loudly and carelessly, oddly peaceful as it flickered and burned with no regard to the screams in the streets...or the odious smell of burning flesh...

Luckily, only horse flesh. The priestess thought darkly, pulling her hood over her face as behind her the stables had been razed to the ground. Her own horse was skittish, perhaps some deep animal instinct had told it that it's fellows were dying, and it felt the urge to return to them.

Too late for that. The priestess held the reigns tightly, forcing the horse along the rough, stone path. She could ignore the chaos behind her, it was nothing new. Too long had Imil burned, night after night. The new wave of revolution did not fade like the other clan members had sworn it would.

And now they're all dead. But then, death was nothing new in Imil now either. Alone, we have failed.

The city of Imil could not stand alone any longer. The priestess pulled down her hood again, so that her face was completely hidden in shadow. And if they refuse, we are truly lost.

Behind her the flames rose even higher, carried on the cool wind across the weak thatched rooftops. The screams got louder, but were masked this time by the steady sound of marching feet.

She did not look back.

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ME: Intrigued? No? Not even a little bit? Oh, go on, you know you want to review...