Part Seven: A Changed World
He could not say how long he spent mesmerised, staring into that empty blackness. The only thing he could remember with certainty was that it was Ravena's soft, urgent voice that broke the spell. "Taurin? Taurin, are you all right?"
Shuddering slightly, he managed to wrench his eyes away from the cave and back to his friend. Relief flooded her face when she saw Taurin come back to his senses. "Oh, you're fine. It's just that you were looking right through me, and didn't seem to be hearing a thing I said."
"I … I think I went elsewhere," Taurin replied. It was true; when he had broken the seal, he had done more than open the gate into the sealed cave. The seal had contained some type of enchantment, and he had triggered it. A wave of thoughts—memories?—had washed over him, memories that were alien, thoughts that made no sense. It was something he would think over later. For now, there was the business of retrieving the stone before the Collector arrived. "We need to hurry."
Nodding her agreement, Ravena entered the cave. Taurin took a deep breath and followed.
The passageway that awaited him was black and quiet, musty and cold. It took only a few steps for the early morning light to be choked off entirely, and then darkness was complete. Taurin felt a moment's panic as he clawed at the corridor's earthy walls, the silence and stillness and blackness overwhelming him. "It feels like a tomb," he whispered.
A few steps more, and then the ground under his feet changed. The dull thud of his boots treading on dirt and rocks gave way to a sharper echo—that of boots against a paved stone floor. The next thing he knew, the tunnel came to an abrupt end. "It just stops," he whispered, his voice sounding out of place in the lifeless tunnel.
He could feel Ravena edge past him and move towards the end of the tunnel. "It feels like a door," she murmured. "Help me find the knob."
The door had no handle, but together they were able to push it outwards. Abruptly, light flooded into the tunnel, and the sight that greeted them stole Taurin's breath.
The doorway opened onto a stone landing, which in turn gave way to a mighty flight of stairs descending into a massive chamber dominated by a faded statue. A vaulted ceiling far, far above was decorated with an array of frescos all centred around an image of the sun that dominated the apex of the dome. Much of the detail was lost to the steady march of years, but the intricacy and vividness of the images spoke of masterful quality. Almost invisible, narrow slivers opened onto the sky outside, inviting light into the chamber—and a faint breeze as well, a breeze that had no doubt eaten at the statue over countless years. Beyond the statue, the stone-paved floor gave way to a narrow bridge—a tiny column of marble no wider than Taurin's shoulders, without any type of railing—that spanned a chasm deep enough that the light from above did not even begin to penetrate it. On the far end of the chasm, a narrow ledge hugged the wall, leading to an ancient wooden door. Taurin guessed the length of the bridge to be at least a hundred paces; his stomach dropped at the prospect of making the long crossing.
"Well, there's only one way to go," offered Ravena, almost apologetically.
Taurin sighed deeply. "No getting around it. Ladies first, I guess?" Society did require some rather odd practices, but who was he to question them?
Ravena's smile of gratitude more resembled a grimace. "You might have picked a better time to turn into a young lord. But seeing as your usual lack of courtesy is exceeded only by your lack of courage, it seems that I have no choice. If we wait for you to decide you're brave enough to cross that thing, we'll starve to death." That stung—and it wasn't particularly fair, either—but if Ravena was prepared to cross first, Taurin was not eager to complain. Cross her the wrong way, and the girl was liable to change her mind.
And so they made their way to the bridge. As they passed the statue, Taurin took the opportunity to examine it more closely. Although weathered by the years, its features were still discernable. The statue rose a full twenty feet in the air—but was still dwarfed by the sheer height of the chamber—and depicted a crowned man holding a magnificent blade high in the air. Time had made the face unidentifiable but could not disguise the sword. Taurin had gripped that weapon in his hands, and he would never forget the feel of it nor the sight of it. "Legend," he breathed.
"Indeed. Which makes the man one of the Harvey kings," Ravena mused. She furrowed her brow. "That probably has some significance. If the purpose of this cave has always been to house the magical stone we're looking for, then the stone is connected somehow to the old kings."
Taurin didn't bother pointing out that the royal seal on the entrance indicated as much. Nor did he bother asking Ravena what she supposed the connection was; he could not figure out why, but he found the notion of ancient monarchs and old legends being related to their current task vaguely frightening.
"It feels as if we're intruding," he heard Ravena whisper—and she was right. They were intruding—not just into the affairs of dead kings, but into another age of the world, an age whose time had been and gone. Or perhaps it was the other way around; perhaps this past age sought to reach out across the years and touch the world of today.
"Let's get this over with," he offered simply. Ravena nodded, and stepped onto the bridge.
Sucking in a deep breath, Taurin followed.
Impenetrable darkness below him, the dazzling—dizzying—ceiling above, Taurin shuffled along the stone walkway. The sight of the black pit threatened to draw him downwards; looking anywhere else seemed just as perilous. It was a harrowing passage, agonisingly slow and dangerously exposed. Taurin felt relief course through him every time his feet found stone beneath them—and then came the next step, and the danger began anew. When they finally reached the far ledge, Ravena looked as white as a ghost.
Taurin managed a weak grin. "That wasn't so bad. I'm almost looking forward to the return journey."
Ravena answered him with a smirk. Opening the wooden door, she turned back towards Taurin. "If that's the case, you can cross it first." She had stepped through and out of sight before Taurin could disavow his jest.
Following Ravena through the door, Taurin found himself in another moderately well-lit room, this one a lengthy corridor. This time the source of the light was invisible; it seemed to permeate the room from every direction, and yet it came from nowhere that Taurin could see. It was also slightly discoloured, casting everything a pale shade of blue. The light grew fainter as the corridor sloped downwards, downwards and out of sight.
It was with a sense of foreboding that Taurin followed the corridor into darkness. At his side, Ravena's face was a mask of determination, but trepidation shone in her deep brown eyes. She was scared, Taurin realised breathlessly. Something about this place frightened her—and that very fact frightened him even more.
As the corridor took them deeper, darkness grew more substantial and silence became more absolute. Eventually, when it seemed that light must fail utterly, a giant door stood before them. Taurin gazed at it in awe. The door was made completely of marble.
Raised panels depicted four vivid scenes—their details untouched by countless years. In one scene, a baby lay abandoned by a riverbank, two wolves regarding the child curiously. To the right of that panel, another scene showed a knight standing before his king, the knight's head bowed in shame. Below the first scene, a man stood atop a dragon's head, clouds streaking past him and distant lands passing in a blur. The final quadrant showed a king on his throne, a beautiful queen by his side. The intricacy and quality of the marble panels were as remarkable as the scenes' imperviousness to the years. Entranced by their beauty, Taurin reached forward to touch the scene of the baby and the wolves.
The moment his fingers brushed the marble, a low rumbling filled the tunnel. Taurin anxiously withdrew his hand, but the rumbling continued. Ravena shot him a withering glance.
The rumbling grew in intensity, and the marble door began to move. It separated down the middle and both halves swung inwards. A domed room greeted him—so massive that it could have housed a large town, so majestically decorated with murals and statues that it put Peldor's Hall of Royalty to shame. Even the floor was painted with scenes out of ancient history and mythic prehistory. A giant pillar of solid light—that was the only term Taurin could find to describe it—descended from the centre of the dome and focused on a massive dais in the centre of the chamber.
Squinting, Taurin could discern a giant statue atop the dais—a statue that was at least fifteen feet tall, a statue made of flawless black rock. The statue faced Taurin and Ravena, a regal man in magnificent robes, a crown atop his head, his hands cupped together before his waist. A blue stone little bigger than Taurin's fist rested in the statue's hands, and this stone burned with such radiance—an azure liquid fire that sizzled in the air around the stone, drowning out even the pillar of light—that Taurin immediately knew he looked upon their journey's end. They had beaten the Collector in their race to retrieve the mystical stone.
Awed by the sheer dimensions of the chamber, dazzled by its majesty, Taurin stood transfixed for several moments. Eventually shaking himself back to alertness, he began the long walk across the richly-designed floor. His footsteps echoed through the colossal dome, beginning as a faint clip-clop and growing into a fearsome boom that thundered upwards and out of hearing. Ravena's footsteps—and their accompanying echoes—joined his, and both children eventually ascended the dais to stand at the feet of the giant black statue.
"It's too high," Ravena remarked glumly. "We can't reach the statue's hands, and it looks too hard to climb." She scowled in annoyance as she regarded the black obelisk before them. She was right; the blue stone was out of reach, and the prospect of attempting to scale the statue was not something Taurin relished.
He spent a moment contemplating their situation. "There are two of us," he offered. Ravena gave him an impatient look, as if to congratulate him on his grasp of the obvious. "What I mean is, I could lift you up, and you should be able to reach the stone."
"That should work. Shall we, then?" She looked at Taurin expectantly. He crouched, she moved into position, and he hefted her towards the blue stone. Too late he wondered at the blue energy sizzling in the air; what if caused Ravena harm? But her hands passed through the blue light without problem and came away clasping the stone. Taurin lowered her to the ground. "It's done," she stated simply, showing him the stone. "We can go home."
"Not a moment too soon," Taurin agreed, and he was sure his relief showed in his voice. A heavy weight seemed to lift from his shoulders as he looked at the stone, now safely in Ravena's hands, and a strangely empty feeling set in. It had been an odd journey—and a daunting one, and occasionally a terrifying one—but they stood now at its end, and he found himself both relieved and disappointed. The danger had passed, and he was grateful for that, and it was time for his ordinary life to start back up again. He would return to Peldor, find his father who ought to be fully recovered by now, and head back to Bellguard—back to a much quieter and much more boring life.
Casting one last look around the majestic dome, so large it daunted him, he walked back towards the entrance, Ravena at his side. They made their way through the upward-slanting corridor, darkness giving way to pale blue light as they walked, and before too long they stood near the door leading back into the mighty chamber with the bridge and the statue.
Ravena stepped aside. When Taurin looked at her quizzically, she smiled. "As I recall, you volunteered to cross first on the way back."
"That's not true!" Taurin protested. Really, this girl was altogether too good at putting words in his mouth. "It was just a joke, Ravena! A joke!"
But Ravena was looking in the opposite direction, whistling loudly, pretending not to hear a word he said. Scowling to himself, Taurin thrust open the door and began the perilous crossing. It was every bit as daunting as the first passage, and every bit as slow. The chasm yawned below him, as black as midnight, as deep as forever. How deep did it go? What waited at the bottom, and how long would it take to fall all the way down? The thought made him shudder. Above him, the ceiling arced, its splendour a beautiful and potentially deadly distraction. Taurin did his best to look down without gazing into the chasm, keeping his eyes fixed on the stone bridge beneath his feet. He'd come a long way now. If I can just keep moving, he found himself thinking, it will eventually be behind me. It's frightening now, but soon it will just be a memory. "Soon I'll be home."
He was startled to realise that he'd said the last part aloud.
He was even more startled when he heard a man's voice respond. "You won't be going home, boy. You will be resting for eternity at the bottom of this pit."
Taurin's body went numb when he heard that voice. Slowly, very slowly, he looked up to meet the eyes of the newcomer—but he already knew exactly who he would see. He knew that voice intimately; it had haunted his dreams for many nights. The grey clothes and the black hat were the same as Taurin remembered them, and the figure just as tall, just as wiry, with the same sharp nose, the same faint black moustache, the same sardonic smirk.
Taurin and the Collector stared at one another, several paces apart on a thin column of stone suspended precariously above a pit that plunged beyond the reach of light.
"I knew Morathia would send others in search of this talisman." The Collector's eloquent, strangely hypnotic voice cut through a chamber where silence had reigned since time immemorial. "I knew I had to travel faster than I have ever travelled before if I were to reach this place first and claim that prize as my own. When I saw the unsealed door, I worried that still I had not been fast enough." He smiled, and the sight was more chilling than his voice. "But it transpires that my timing was perfect."
Taurin's mind raced frantically. "Not perfect," he retorted, attempting to sound calm, attempting to be calm, failing miserably at both. "Not if you want to both slay me and take the crystal. I go over the edge, and it goes with me." That was untrue; Ravena had the stone, and Taurin fervently hoped the girl had the sense to return to the far end of the platform as soon as she saw or heard the Collector.
"You have the stone, do you?" Was there a flicker of hesitation in the Collector's deep black eyes? As quickly as it had come—if indeed it had been there at all—it was gone. "Surely ancient ruins like these are littered with traps and puzzles. And surely someone like yourself, little more than a child, would be unable to solve those puzzles. No, you do not have the stone. You are returning to the entrance empty-handed, having proved incapable of conquering these ruins' secrets."
"There were no traps. There were no puzzles, either. All I had to do was cross this bridge, walk down a few halls, enter a large chamber, and the stone was mine."
The Collector cocked his head. "Then where is it?"
That caught Taurin off guard, but his trembling hand brushed against one of the pouches Jasen Norst had left for him. "Here," he replied. "It's right here in this pouch."
"Then I'll make you a deal. You take it out of that pouch, hand it over to me, and I let you go. If you don't agree to that, well, you leave me with no alternative other than to send you and the crystal over the edge." The Collector smiled a smile devoid of humour. "It's a long way to fall."
"I don't trust you. You've already said you want to kill me."
The Collector shrugged, apparently not rattled by Taurin's reservations. "It's not as if you have a choice. You worry about the possibility of death. Your alternative is the certainty of death."
Taurin's heart was beating relentlessly, his mind racing. "It sounds like I'm going to die whether I give you the stone or not. What if I don't want to give you the satisfaction of getting your hands on it?"
The Collector took several moments to respond, and Taurin's heart stood still. Was his luck about to run out? Had he taken this game one step too far? "I'll tell you what." When the Collector finally did reply, there was a resigned note to his voice. "You know what's on the other side of that bridge. I do not. Put the crystal on the ground, and head back the way you came. You can hide, and I won't know where to look to find you. So, what do you say?" His smile was almost disarming. "You won't get a better offer."
That much was true. And, whatever its value, whatever its purpose, the stone was not worth more than his life. But Taurin did not have the stone. Ravena had the stone. Calling her out onto the bridge would endanger them both. And there really was nowhere to hide on the other side of the bridge. And who knew what powers the Collector could use to root them out?
"No."
The world stood still for a moment after he said it. Then time started to move once more, and so did the Collector. One step. Then another. Soon boy and sorcerer would meet. And when they did …
Taurin raised a hand, forestalling the other. "What I mean is … no, that will not be necessary." He held up the pouch. "There is nowhere to hide across this bridge, so nothing to gain by me running away. I will just hand you the stone."
The Collector's smile was equal parts triumph and anticipation as he resumed his inexorable advance. "As you wish."
Taurin's heart did somersaults as he contemplated what he must do. Could he really push a more agile, more physically capable man over the side of the bridge? No, of course he could not. The best he could hope for was for them both to fall. Ravena would be safe. The crystal would be safe. The world would survive.
But Taurin would not.
He tried to shut his mind, tried with all his energy to block out the finality of it all—the tumble into darkness, the sight of the bridge receding above him, the rush of the ground below as darkness gave way to the bottom of the pit, and the bottom of the pit gave way to eternal night.
Or perhaps the fall would never end. Who could know how deep the pit went. Perhaps it had no bottom. Perhaps thirst or starvation would claim him before he had a chance to find out.
Tense, shaking, ready for death, Taurin waited. The Collector continued his unhurried advance.
There was a shout from the far end of the bridge—the side from whence the Collector had come—and Taurin's adversary spun around. "Who dares meddle in my business?" he demanded, his voice rising to a shout. "Who dares challenge the Collector?"
"I dare." The voice came from the far side of the bridge, and was as hard as Peldor's walls, as cold as iron. The speaker was obscured by a haziness that hung in the air around him—a brightness that distorted Taurin's vision. And yet the voice was familiar. Taurin could swear he had heard it before, though he could not yet place it, and he was sure he had never heard it adopt this tone.
"Then you will pay dearly." As it had in the plaza, on that first day in Peldor, which had been so recent but felt so remote, a cold wind arose. As the temperature dropped, a feeling of dread set in. Taurin's hopes had flared for a short moment with the arrival of the newcomer. Now all hope left him.
A wave of ice vaulted towards the man at the mouth of the bridge … and disintegrated into shards beyond number just feet from where he stood.
"Rest assured, I always pay my debts." The air grew heavy, tense, as a child might become in expectation of a blow. Time dragged on for several moments without anything happening … and the air grew heavier still.
When the blow did come, it came with authority. Slashes of lightening fell from above—from no source Taurin could see, from no source that could possibly exist here beneath the earth—and hurtled down at the Collector.
At the last moment—the … very … last … moment—a wall of light sprang into existence, a partial cocoon that blocked off the area immediately before and immediately above the Collector, and the lightning disappeared, fizzling out harmlessly around their target. "You cheap tricks will count for little here, conjurer," the Collector retorted, though there was a shrillness to his voice that had not been there earlier.
Both ice and lightning were back, the air alive with the competing magics of the two men. But as the cavern continued to rain streaks of electricity and as the cascade of frost refused to relent, the defences of both the Collector and his opponent held.
One shield would break eventually; they would have to. Taurin did not know whether it was willpower or physical strength or something else that sustained them, but he did know that one would eventually crumble. And when it did, the sorcerer who relied upon it was a dead man. That could be the Collector. It could just as easily be the newcomer. And if it was, Taurin would quickly follow him to the grave.
He was trembling, he suddenly realised. He tightened his grip on the pouch in his hands, afraid that his shaky grip might see it tumble over the side. Then his eyes widened, and he knew what he must do.
His mind was calm even as his fingers trembled. Slowly, carefully, he drew open the pouch he had received from Jasen Norst—the black pouch. Then he took out the white stone and the trembling stopped.
His aim was true. The stone struck the Collector full in the back …
… and exploded. The Collector's shield of light disappeared, and the Collector himself, caught off guard by the impact, wavered for several moments and looked as though he might fall to his doom. And then regained his balance.
Taurin's heart sank right into his toes.
Then another bolt of lightning hurtled downwards. The Collector, defenceless, was struck on the full. There was the horrible smell of burnt flesh, and a shout of agony mingled with terror that rang through the air, as the man who had haunted Taurin's dreams for the past week was thrown into the air and over the side of the bridge. Perhaps the lightning strike had done for him, Taurin reflected weakly. If not, the Collector would soon discover whether the dark pit really did have a bottom. Exhausted, Taurin fell to his knees, and very nearly followed his nemesis into blackness. As it was, he leaned over the side and was physically ill.
"Steady, Taurin," came a voice from in front of him. "It's over now."
Taurin looked up, to see the man who had fought the Collector. "Master … Master Greylin?" he eventually managed, as confused as he had ever been. "What are you doing here?" Then the even more bizarre part struck him. "Where did you learn how to do … that?"
Master Greylin crouched before him. "In Mysidia. A long time ago." Taurin could not recall ever seeing his teacher smile, but Greylin looked dangerously close to it now. "A very long time ago." The wry look passed, and the smile did not eventuate. "As for your first question, a man named Jasen Norst found me and told me about you, and about this stone. It was a topic I knew at least a little of already. I have no idea how Jasen Norst knew who I was or that I knew you or what I could do, and I had no idea whether I could trust him. For all I knew, I was walking into a trap. But it turns out his word was good."
Taurin slowly clambered back to his feet. It took him several attempts, and he needed Greylin's help, but he finally managed. "I'm glad you came."
"And I'm glad you're safe. And what of this stone? Do you have it with you?"
"I have it." Taurin turned around to see Ravena standing behind him. She gave him a hug, and he returned the embrace awkwardly. "I saw the two of you on the bridge, and I was so scared. But I knew you'd beat him. I knew everything would turn out all right."
"Not all right," Master Greylin observed reluctantly, "not yet. An evil is stirring in the world, an evil that I have dedicated my life to resisting. This stone will never be safe so long as those who seek it endure."
"Then you take it," Taurin offered eagerly. "You can keep it safe in Bellguard. I saw what you did to the Collector. You could do the same to any other thieves or robbers who tried to steal it."
"Thieves and robbers are of little enough concern," Greylin's reply came at last. "Even men such as the one who assailed you on this bridge are not our greatest problem. No, there are creatures out there who are beyond my power as much as they are beyond yours."
"Morathia," Ravena whispered.
The hairs on Taurin's neck stood on end at the mention of that name. In spite of himself, he cast a worried look towards the mouth of the bridge. It was deserted.
"He is but an emissary," Greylin replied. "Probably the greatest of emissaries, and his name is already feared in other lands where the coming war looms closest. Soon it will be feared in the streets of Peldor, too." He gestured towards the mouth of the bridge, where Taurin had been glancing uneasily. "We do ourselves no favours by remaining in this cave. Morathia has already sent one hound for the stone. Who is to say he won't send others?
"I will be leaving Peldor," Greylin continued as they crossed the bridge. "There is a journey that I have delayed for far too long. And I will be travelling towards danger rather than away from it. I cannot take this stone. Jasen Norst, too, who seems to know at least as much of this business as I do, refuses to take it." Reaching the end of the bridge, he waited for the two children to complete their passage before continuing. "He says you should keep it, Taurin, and I believe he is right."
Taurin met his teacher's eyes, hard and grim. "If I am to do that, I want to know something about it."
Greylin nodded to Ravena. "Show me the stone, and I will tell you what I know." Ravena held out the crystal. "Please, put it on the ground."
Taurin's mentor glanced up at the statute towering high above them. "Cecil Harvey, whose reign ended seven and a half centuries ago. You are familiar with his story."
When both children nodded, Greylin continued. "Then you will know of the Crystals of Light and Darkness—four from the world we inhabit, four from the Underworld, two for each element. For those born in today's world, Cecil's story comes from a time before history, a time of mythology. The Crystals come from a time earlier still—infinitely earlier. It is said that they contain the blueprint for all life and all matter on this planet. It is said that they played a role in the creation of our world. In Cecil's time—the time of the Rebirth of Zemus—they almost played a role in its destruction." He paused for a long moment, meeting Ravena's eyes then Taurin's. When he continued, his voice was iron. "The stone you carry is one of the eight Crystals. It is a Crystal of Light. It is the Water Crystal."
Utter silence descended over the small group. Greylin continued to observe the two children, his expression unreadable. Ravena's eyes had gone wide, a visual display of the shock both children were feeling, and her face was pale. Taurin could only guess how his own face must have looked, and he could not fully describe how he felt. At their feet lay one eighth of Creation.
The Crystal was shedding its light silently.
As he stared into its depths, Taurin could see that Greylin spoke true, however incredible his story, however enormous its implications. Looking into the depths of the Crystal, Taurin could see an endless sea on a cloudless day. He could see waves on a stony shore as storm clouds roiled overhead and rain poured upon the world. He could see a calm ocean on a starless night. He could see the deeps of the ocean teeming with life in the first days of the world.
"It's beautiful," Ravena whispered.
"Beautiful," agreed Greylin, "and terrible. Each Crystal has powers you can only guess at, powers that can be unlocked by one who knows how. Together they have the power to reshape the world, or to destroy it."
"Who would do such a thing?" Ravena asked, incredulous.
There was a long pause before Master Greylin finally replied. "His name is Devil Arken." Was it just Taurin's imagination, or did the morning light seem to retreat at that name? "Few can guess the limits of his power. None know his origins. All who are familiar with him know that he plots to refashion the world in his own image, and that that image is tantamount to the end of all life."
A moment of silence held before Taurin asked, "What do we do?"
Once more, Greylin almost smiled—but this near-smile was not a happy one. "Pick that Crystal up, take it back to Bellguard when you return there with your father, hide it somewhere secret—but somewhere you can quickly recover it if the need arises—and hope for the best. Others will surely play a role in this odyssey, and perhaps you yourself will too before this is all over." Slowly, he began to ascend the majestic flight of steps that led out of the chamber. "But don't be too eager to find trouble, Taurin. Grow up, grow strong, grow smart. That should be enough to occupy you over the coming years. Because, unless I miss my guess, trouble will be eager enough to find you."
"Do you really think so?" Taurin asked, following his teacher up the steps, the Crystal in his hands, Ravena at his side. "Bellguard has always been safe. It's a small town—a village, really. Nobody would think to look there."
At the top of the stairs, Master Greylin turned back around, something that might have been sympathy in his eyes. "Once that might have been true, Taurin, but no longer. You and I live in an age where nothing can be taken for granted." He did smile then—a weary smile, a sad smile. "We live in a changed world."
Author's note: Here ends 'A Changed World', originally slated as the first in a series of self-contained short stories that together would convey a larger plot. As things currently stand, I have decided not to continue with this project. My obligations are more numerous than when I commenced writing, and I feel that I would be unable to do justice to my original vision. Finishing the first story proved trial enough, and commencing work on the second volume, 'Toroian Winter', holds little appeal. If I do return to the world of Bloodlines, it will not be at any point in the near future.
It's entirely possible, however, that I might give a second look to a project (working name: 'Untitled') that I commenced several years prior to Bloodlines. Because the story is an ambitious one, but not so ambitious as what I set out to do here, I am more confident of my ability to chip away at it piece by piece and still come up with an excellent finished product. It is set twenty years after the events of Final Fantasy IV, and is completely independent of the history I developed for Bloodlines. Indeed, it's partly on account of this other story that I've posted 'A Changed World', in the hope that your feedback on this project can make my next one even better.
Just because there won't be a sequel to A Changed World at any point in the immediate future doesn't mean I don't want to hear your thoughts. Send 'em through right now.
Ice on Fire
2005