The Dereskian Queen

by Lady Moria

The tale of EvilLyn's mother, her life, and how things became what they are. Warnings: Violence, refereces to an incestual lesbian relationship. Chapters have been edited as there was a problem in format.

1. The Dereskian Queen

The Dereskian Queen

By Lady Moria

This is the tale of Moria, the fourteenth monarch of the great Dereskian people, and of the Great War which occurred during her reign.

Chapter One: The Beginning

In the year twenty-four thousand six hundred and one of the second age, the great king Monicaldeno and his wife Alessena gave birth to twin daughters. They named the first Caerlin, the thunder-strike, and they called the second Moria, the dark one. And to the children, the honorable surname of Vadorian was bestowed, that starlight should forever look down upon them in their splendor, and bless them.

The Dereskian people were a contented one, full of prosperity. Their technology was known and envied throughout the land, all coveted their prosperity, and their weaponry and skills in sorcery were infamous. All looked upon the Dereskians in an envious awe, both desiring and fearing their awesome might. It was hoped that this fear would prevent invasion from all potential attackers. Unfortunately, this was not to be.

It was not two months after the birth of the princesses that a raiding party of the Eternians, under the direction of their council of 'Elders,' attacked the prospering capital of the Dereskian lands. Though the people's militia fought off the raiders bravely, the Eternians were able to get away with a minimal amount of plunder. In addition to the stolen goods, one of the raiders had managed to sneak into the great palace and steal the infant Caerlin as she slept.

The great king Monicaldeno and his queen sent a number of his people in a frantic search to find the missing child and the elusive raiders, but the search was in vain. The thieves, and with them the infant, were not to be found.

Caerlin was taken to become a replacement to a mother whose child had died accidentally earlier that year. And so, the child Caerlin grew under the care of an Eternian woman, never knowing who her true parents were, and not knowing where she came from.

The woman to whom the raiders brought Caerlin was, of course, overjoyed to have a child again, even if it was merely a replacement for the one she had lost. Her name was unknown, having been voluntarily given up at the time of her maturity. The name she went by now was merely the title of her occupation. Her occupation was the same as her mother's and her mother's mother, and so on, going back far into recorded history. It was her hope that after she was gone, Caerlin would take her place. The woman was the twelfth in a long line of her vocation. Long, but not as long as the Dereskian noble line.

She resided in a castle, and her only job was to protect this castle, as well as any secrets that lay within it. Her name, or rather her title, was simply "The Sorceress of Castle Grayskull."

And thus the child Caerlin grew, with no memory of who she was or who her people were. She only knew that she was different, and it was not merely her pale coloring or oddly colored eyes. True, the moon-colored hair, the skin pallor so white it seemed unhealthy, and the eyes so perfectly amethyst they seemed to glow kept her apart from the other children of Eternia, but there was more. A difference in the quality of the spirit, and Caerlin knew it.

For instance, her mere aging was… quite different from other children, and, indeed, the rest of the Eternian population. It seemed that for every one year she aged, the other children aged two and a half years. Thus, by the time she outwardly appeared seventeen years of age, she had actually aged forty-two and a half years, Eternian time. In Dereskian time, she had aged nearly two hundred years. Not, of course, that she knew that. No one, not even the woman she only knew as her 'mother' ever told Caerlin her true age.

And then, everything changed. Caerlin's 'mother' became with child. Caerlin did not know it then, but the child that would be born to her 'mother' would become both her favorite playtoy and her ultimate enemy. The child, a daughter, was given the name Zoar.

With the birth of Zoar, the Sorceress seemed to utterly forget that Caerlin had ever existed. It really did not matter to her, for Caerlin had grown up with the impression that her 'mother' never truly listened to her. And yet, when she looked down at the infant, Zoar seemed to bring memories forward that Caerlin had not known she had.

Images of another, of lying in a cradle with someone else there, of turning in her sleep and seeing a face like hers next to her filled her mind. In one of the rare moments where her so-called 'mother' noticed her existence, Caerlin spoke to her of these memories, asking her if they were true.

Looking down at her sleeping infant, the Sorceress reached a decision. Before the birth of Zoar, there had been a present worry in the back of her mind. An outlander was to become Sorceress after her death. Though she had raised the girl as her own, the Sorceress knew that Caerlin would never be Eternian or care for the Eternian people. Her true daughter would realize later how correct her mother had been.

When Caerlin confronted her foster mother about her dreams, something within the Sorceress snapped. She told the girl everything, in a not-so-nice way, and then, the Sorceress of Grayskull, known the planet over for her kindness and generosity, told her foster daughter to get out. She was no longer necessary, she said, now that Zoar had been born.

Most people, upon learning that they everything they had ever been told about themselves was a lie, would be angry, if not consumed with hatred. This was not the case with Caerlin. If anything, she felt extreme relief. And when she was told to leave the castle and the country, she was not dismayed, or even surprised. She left without a word or even a backward glance to her 'mother,' or anyone she had ever met. Zoar was the one exception. As Caerlin departed down the halls to the front portcullis, she stopped by the child's room and looked down upon the resting child. She moved her hand over the closed eyelids, and the smallest of smirks came upon her lips. She then spoke the words that would haunt the child's dreams for years to come.

"Look well after your people, Zoar the Sorceress, while they are still there to look upon. For I swear upon the family I never had, I will be avenged. If I have to destroy this city to ruin, I will be avenged. You, and your children, and your children's children will know my name, and they will fear me."

She lent down and kissed the child's forehead with a sort of acidic familiarity. She whispered into the child's ear, and then she was gone.

As she departed down the portcullis, her whispered words echoed in the wind of the moonlit night, filling the quiet streets with an eerie almost- silence. Her cloak billowed in the wind, as her whisper echoed over the sleeping city, with the citizen's dreams with an icy chill.

"You will never be rid of me."

Chapter Two: Homeward

She left the only city she had ever consciously known behind her without so much as a backward glance. She did not belong here, had never belonged here. There was another horizon ahead for her, somewhere beyond the next hills. A land that was emerald, rather than just green, a living oasis upon the face of the planet. She knew this, as an infant spider knows how to spin a web, without conscious thought.

She headed due westward, knowing in some hidden, backward part of her mind that this was the direction where her people dwelled. She had no method of transportation other than her own two feet, and had very few supplies with which to get to her destination. Yet this did not phase or even concern her. She was going home, and that was enough.

She crossed mountains, waded across rivers, walked over flat prairies. West was ever her direction. She ate little, and slept less. Caerlin did not concern herself with everyday things such as food or sleep; home was her one goal.

As she walked, a tune she had not known she remembered came into her mind. She began to hum it, and then the words came spilling forth from her mouth. The notes in a language she had always known, but had merely forgotten, echoed over the hills.

"Otë mo fen dôr, ki'n thæ neson to. Tumantë valü rot gaene. Ki'n punt il orods ferk anonë, ki thæ reüusk iss il falas, tet tirn il unfalas gaer.

Ki hach urë t' il andúne.
Lidor li we nesurë derem.
Li mae ur kan li anonë.
Lidor li we nekhil rem,
Ne yuthë gui ki nänd.
Ki hauch urë t'il andúne.
Ki hauch urë t'il andúne.

Ki we iantet raste semi ti veture wëe menel, kan ki we thale por rem arad mantë valar talment soun dôr. Mantë minas gond barad ith darat tet nanës pagalen, proo mez calli wod bar? tet li, mez cuivië emuin, ath ëaren.

Ki hach urë t' il andúne.
Lidor li we nesurë derem.
Li mae ur kan li anonë.
Lidor li we nekhil rem,
Ne yuthë gui ki nänd.
Ki hauch urë t'il andúne.
Ki hauch urë t'il andúne.

Qui anar anné wend isil, kan celeb elen fern il kith, otë recam hindë seden emyn, rot mantë re athar. Súl, mez cáno; kemen, mez deen; mez seunda, alda. Tathar wëe il duin kai, we meyone ki't athar.

Ki hach urë t' il andúne.
Lidor li we nesurë derem.
Li mae ur kan li anonë.
Lidor li we nekhil rem,
Ne yuthë gui ki nänd.
Ki hauch urë t'il andúne.
Ki hauch urë t'il andúne."

As the song receded into the hills, Caerlin allowed herself a smile. It was the first genuine smile that had ever appeared upon her lips. It felt comfortable to her, and humming the same tune, she continued over the hills.

She did not stop to rest that night, for she could feel in her bones that she was nearing her destination. She walked through the rise of the white and blue moons and kept on until the eldest, red moon had appeared in the sky. She looked up at the mother moon and her daughters, for she knew in some part of her mind that the moons were feminine, and waved slowly, as if to an old friend.

"Eläni" she whispered up to the red moon, and knelt upon the ground as she would to a favored deity. She did not know where the name came from, or what its significance was, she knew only that the rise of the red moon triggered the name "Eläni".

She grinned up at the moons, and then continued her journey, knowing that she was being watched over by the planet's three satellites. The feeling was not an unwelcome one.

As the sun rose behind her, she came to the apex of a rather large mountain she had been climbing for the past few days. She looked down upon the valley, and her breath stopped in her chest.

Caerlin gazed down upon an enormous valley, almost completely surrounded by mountains. The valley seemed to be a glittering, glimmering jewel, filled with the greenest hills she had ever seen. There was a great city at its center, with buildings made from white and black marble, and tiny, quaint villages in the outer vestiges of the valley. She gazed longingly at the great city, which she presumed was the capital.

I know this place, she thought. I was born here.

A great feeling of peace filled Caerlin to the core, and she knew, looking down upon the emerald hills, the little towns, the glamorous capital, that she had found what she had been looking for.

She was home.

She waited until the sun had risen completely over the mountains, not wanting to miss a moment of the glorious land before her.

In truth, perhaps, she was a little nervous. She had known instinctively which direction to travel, but now that she had reached her homeland, it was as if any directional sense she had possessed had completely vanished. She was not completely sure where it was she should go.

Caerlin's eyes were immediately drawn to the capital city. If I'm to find any answers, she thought to herself, I will surely find them there.

She began her descent down the mountains and into the shining valley below. The descent took far less time than climbing the mountain had. By the time the sun was high in the sky, she had traveled about three- fourths the way down the mountain.

She continued down, without stopping even once. She had made up her mind over the course of her journey that this was where she belonged, and she would stay here regardless of what happened.

It took two more days after descending the mountain to reach the outskirts of the capital city. She paused to rest twice in that time, spending the night in the barns of local farmers and picking ripe fruit off of their trees. The owners did not notice her.

She approached the city well rested and fed. She looked at the surrounding architecture with both familiarity and awe. It almost seemed as if the land was built to suit the buildings, so well did they blend with the rolling hills. Every building was aesthetically pleasing in color and shape. There were no ugly, square corners or anything even remotely displeasing to the eye. It seemed to Caerlin that the land of her people must truly be the most utopian in existence.

As the city grew more and more awake, Caerlin caught snippets of the many conversations around her. To her utter amazement, she found that she could understand most of what everyone was saying. She found the many of the people were looking at her with sort of incredulous looks in their eyes. Caerlin supposed that this was simply because they had never seen her before.

At least the people here have my same hair-color, she thought amusedly. But, looking into their eyes, she found that very few, if any people had the same, amethyst coloring of her own eyes. They either had the same pale blue of the Blue Moon, or they had a sort of darkened red, similar to the coloring of the Red Moon.

She slowly reached what must have been the royal palace. If anyone knew where her place in the city should be, she figured it must be the king and queen, or at least some kind of royal minister. She worked up her courage and approached the guards stationed outside.

In the language she had never known she remembered, she said slowly, "Excuse me, I'm here to see the-"

To her amazement, the guards drew back their weapons in royal salute, and bade her to enter.

With wide eyes, she stepped cautiously forward. "The king and queen?" she finished.

She walked into the palace steadily; looking through the hallways, regarding them with the same revered familiarity she had viewed the outer buildings.

Caerlin wandered through the hallways, letting her newly returned sense of direction lead the way. She found herself soon in the upper levels of the palace, and then she was in the throne room.

Suddenly, a female servant bustled in the room, and exclaimed, "Oh, there you are. The queen and king have been looking everywhere for you. Come along, come along, now."

"But I-" she tried to interject, but was unable to as the servant pushed her steadily forward into the rooms behind the throne rooms.

Caerlin tried to see where they were going, trying to take it in, but the servant pushed her along too quickly to notice the direction she was taking.

Finally, they arrived, at a doorway with a great jade and marble engraved door. The servant opened it for her, pushed her inside, and left, closing the door behind her.

Caerlin turned to look back at the closing door, when a voice, distinctly feminine, called out behind her.

"Ah, Moria, there you are. We were looking for you, dear."

Caerlin felt a hand on her shoulder and began to turn around, saying in a soft voice, "No, there must be some mistake, you see I-"

She finished her turn and her breath was swept away as she stared into the most wondrous eyes she had ever seen. The queen, for that must have been who she was, was truly one of the most beautiful people in the world, she decided.

She was dressed regally in silver and blue, with a small circlet of beaten silver just over her thin eyebrows. In her hand was a crystal goblet, with light refracting blue and purple into Caerlin's eyes. The eyes of the queen were the exact same shade of Caerlin's own, but such vitality they held!

The queen was not looking directly at her, but Caerlin could tell that the queen watched her from the corner of her eyes.

"Now, now, Moria, there's to be none of that." The queen slowly began to sweep her gaze over Caerlin's body, looking at her outfit. "You'll have to change before tonight, but that can be arranged. Now then, your father and I have every faith in your ability to host an event such as thi-" The queen's eyes locked with Caerlin's, and dull shock appeared in the older woman's eyes. She nearly dropped her glass, so apparent was her distress.

"You're not Moria. …Who are you, that looks so much like my daughter?"

A voice came in from the hallway. Its owner entered quickly from a side passage. "Were you calling for me, Mother? Forgive me, I was just changing my clothes for toni-" The new entry took one look at Caerlin, and she stopped in mid-sentence.

Had Caerlin been capable of conscious thought, she would have noted that this pausing mid-word seemed to happen a lot around her. As it was, her mind had stopped functioning the moment this woman entered the room. The younger woman was dressed in the same colors as the queen, but her clothing was more shape-fitting and less billowy.

However, it was her facial features that made Caerlin pause. The other young woman appeared her same age, and her features were identical to Caerlin's own. The only difference was the eye color. Whereas Caerlin's eyes were brilliant amethyst of the queen, the other girls had the same, perfect blue that Caerlin had seen in the streets of the city.

"Who are you?" came all voices at once: the queen's, the young woman's, and Caerlin's own.

Caerlin turned to face the queen again, and then looked again at the other young woman. She noticed that her double also wore a circlet of silver. This was the princess Moria, then. No wonder the queen had taken her to be her daughter.

The queen whipped her free hand out and gently cupped Caerlin's face, looking deeply into her eyes.

The younger woman's lower lip trembled slightly, unsure of what was going on.

The queen looked at her long and hard, staring deep into her eyes, and recognition slowly dawned upon her.

This time, the goblet did drop from her hand, shattering upon the floor into a hundred gleaming pieces.

"Caerlin!" The queen exclaimed, and wrapped her arms around the young woman.

"Caerlin!" came Moria's confused question. The woman in question locked eyes with Moria, an equally confused glance reflected in her eyes. "Caerlin, it's you! You've come back!" the princess shouted, and ran to her as well, wrapping herself around her long-lost sister.

Now twice as confused, Caerlin looked at the queen, and heard her crying softly. "Please, please don't cr-" A memory flashed from somewhere deep in her mind. This woman, the queen, singing softly to her as she was falling asleep. And next to her, already sleeping, was the Other. Her sister, she realized.

"Moria?" she asked, the memory blurring to the present.

Her mind coming back to the present, she was aware of the queen's hand upon her face. She looked up at the older woman with tears in her eyes.

"M-mother?" she asked as the drops fell down her cheeks and onto her chest.

Translation of the song above:

In this fair land, I'll stay no more, here labor is in vain. I'll seek the mountains far away, and leave the fertile plain. Where waves of grass in oceans roll into infinity, I stand ready on the shore, to cross the inland sea.

I am going to the West,
You say you will not go with me,
You turn your eyes away,
You say you will not follow me,
No matter what I say,
I am going to the West,
I am going to the West.

I will journey to the place that was shaped by heaven's hand, and I will build for me a bower, where angel's footprints mark the land. Where castle rocks in towers high kneel to valleys wide and green, all my thoughts are turned to you, my waking hope, my sleeping dream.

I am going to the West,
You say you will not go with me,
You turn your eyes away,
You say you will not follow me,
No matter what I say,
I am going to the West,
I am going to the West.

And when sun gives way to moon, and silver starlight fills the sky, in the arms of those last hills is where I'm bound to lie. Wind, my blanket, Earth, my bed, my canopy, a Tree. Willows by the river's edge, will whisper me to sleep.

I am going to the West,
You say you will not go with me,
You turn your eyes away,
You say you will not follow me,
No matter what I say,
I am going to the West,
I am going to the West.

Chapter three: Years of Bliss

The next years were some of the most bliss-filled and carefree of Caerlin's entire life. They were years filled with discoveries about herself, her family, and her people.

She learned, first of all, that she was the eldest of the twin princesses of the Dereskïgiä, her people. As such, she was the next in line for the monarchy. This news came as a godsend to Moria, her sister. Moria had never desired the seat of power, and now that Caerlin had returned, was overjoyed that she would not have to be a ruler after all.

In Moria, Caerlin discovered everything she had ever desired. Her sister was calm, respectful, philosophical, thoughtful, and knowledgeable about affairs. Her sister became her tutor in affairs of the Dereskïgiä, and it became Caerlin's goal to strive to make her sister smile at her progress. Moria told her of the mythology of the people, of how Eläni, the light of the red moon, had split her light in two to create the blue and white moons, and how she used that light to create life upon the planet. She learned how the first people on the planet spent their days sleeping, and their nights working, and the constant exposure to the light of the white moon had permanently dyed their skin and hair pale white. She learned how these same people looked always at the three moons, and how the eyes of those who looked upon the blue moon became baby blue, how the eyes of those who looked at the red moon became dull red. Those with amethyst eyes were the most blessed, she learned, for they looked upon all three moons at once, and were the true children of Eläni.

Moria instructed her sister in everything from courtly manners to hand-to-hand combat. In the latter, it was discovered that Caerlin was a very quick learner, and it was not long at all before she was able to best her sister in nearly all matter of weaponry. From then on, Caerlin took lessons directly from her sister's tutor, the foremost expert on Dereskian weaponry. It took somewhat longer to best this woman than it had her sister, but, through extreme planning and carefully executed maneuvers, in combination with spur-of-the-moment techniques, she was finally able to best her teacher in swordplay. After that momentous occasion, it did not take Caerlin very long before she altered her techniques in all manner of weaponry, from staffs to bows and arrows, to fencing sabers, to knife- throwing, and so on.

After learning of her progress in weaponry, her father, the king himself, challenged his daughter to a dë-neocáörë, a formal duel between family members, not meant to be life threatening, but merely an exercise in weapon mastery.

She accepted her father's challenge, and when the event rolled around, she bested him after parrying his attacks and watching his technique for several hours. Her father was delighted with her progress.

After learning about every type of weapon available in her nation, and besting every one of the weapons masters in the country, Caerlin began looking for something else to occupy her physically. She continued to use all of her weapons weekly, so as to keep up her skills.

After expressing interest in wanting to try something else, her sister suggested Caerlin try the learning of Majicks. Majick, though forbidden in most other nations, was a widely accepted practice among the Dereskïgiä. All in the nation, from the monarchy to the peasantry, were content with themselves and their lot in life, and thus there was no need to try to harm one another. The very idea was absurd to this utopian society

Majick, as well as any other type of skill, including weaponry, was used only as protective device, or for betterment of the people.

Caerlin contacted the chief expert of Majicks, a woman by the name of Celeno the Enchantress, who at first rejected the princess as a student. Celano thought that, as Caerlin was a princess, she would be inclined to study ballroom dancing more closely than anything that might possibly get her clothing dirty.

Nevertheless, Caerlin pushed for at least an audience with the Enchantress, and after much negotiation, Celeno agreed to at least hear her out.

Caerlin arrived at the older woman's home, dressed in comfortable, practical breeches she used for her weapons training, and a tunic that was faded to a dull blue, well-worn and well-loved.

When answering the door, Celeno herself was taken aback. This woman in front of her looked nothing like she had presumed a princess to look, all lace and silk.

Caerlin's hip-length hair was pulled back into a loose braid, which ended at her lower back. She wore no jewelry save a small pendant around her neck. She looked, in every respect, the common apprentice.

Celeno smiled to herself and decided she would teach the young woman, even before Caerlin could utter a word.

She learned from Celeno the origin of Majicks, and how their use protected the Dereskïgiä and their history. She learned of all types of plant life, and how they could be employed to fight off disease, and in some cases, certain death.

She learned of the uses of energy fields, and how to manipulate energy to form a blast that could knock an opponent clean off his feet, or punch a hole the size of a large desk into a wall made of solid steel.

It took nearly fifty years before Celeno could teach her student no more. Caerlin had matured nicely in such time. Somewhere in this time, Caerlin's aging process had slowed as was customary among Dereskians; aging only about a year for every thirty years she lived.

After she had learned all she could, she wished Celeno a good, healthy life, and returned to the palace. It made Caerlin somewhat saddened to think that all of her lessons were over, for she had grown to quite enjoy the company of Celeno.

She returned to the palace, and attended a seemingly endless series of fancy balls and state dinners, accompanied by her mother, her father, and her sister. Her sister! How she had missed the soothing presence of Moria more than anyone in her time with Celeno.

In time, she began to value her sister's opinion in all things, trusting in Moria's cool demeanor to determine the correct choice. She began to spend more and more time with her sister, and her sister with her. They were rarely ever apart from one another. It became an ongoing joke in the palace that if one were to find one princess, the other would not be far away.

The years of bliss continued, and the three-hundredth birthday of the princesses came and went. It seemed almost as if the happiness Caerlin felt could never feasibly end. The Dereskïgiä were content as ever, no one was starving, no one was in pain or hurting. If there was ever the slightest problem, the good king and queen were able to solve it. Occasionally, the princesses sat in upon the discussions, and were able to add their opinions to solve the problem quickly.

Caerlin and Moria became well known throughout the nation for their fairness in decision making together: Caerlin for her ability to quickly and efficiently find the heart of the problem and justly find an answer, and Moria for her ability to listen to both sides equally, and smooth the little details over so that all parties were pleased with the solution.

Then, one night while all were sleeping, tragedy befell the Dereskïgiä. The Eternian raiders had become angry again, growing jealous of the blissful contentment of the Dereskïgiä. They crept up like the worms they were in the night, setting fire to great buildings of the city. Fortunately, marble does not burn well, so this effort of the raiders did not accomplish much. The raiders crept up to the palace, slaying the guards stationed around the doors quickly. They entered the palace and slinked to the upper levels in little time. They entered the throne room and kept on behind it, going into the royal chambers. They entered the chambers of Moria, and found them to be curiously empty. They continued on to the rooms of Caerlin, but found they could not enter, for she had recently set up a barrier using the Majicks she had learned.

They did not bother trying to break it, and instead went to the rooms of the king and queen. These they found wide open, for Monicaldeno and Alessena did not believe in leaving their doors locked to the people who might need them. The raiders entered and found the royal monarchs sleeping peacefully in their bed.

They accomplished their task, and retreated from the palace to the city, where they found the city militia waiting for them. The raiders put up a fight, but in the end the Dereskïgiä were triumphant. The raiders fell to their swords.

Caerlin emerged from her chambers after being awoken by the sounds of fighting. Moria was not far behind her in running to their parents' rooms. The king and queen had been stabbed as they slept, not even able to struggle.

Moria and her sister ran to the still-warm bodies of their beloved parents and cradled them in their arms, willing them to awaken again. The younger of the two sisters burst into tears, burying her face in the queen's hair. Caerlin was strangely silent, attempting to use her Majick to bring her parents back from the dead. It was too late, she realized with horror. There was nothing she could do.

She did not allow tears to fall from her eyes but could feel them building. Caerlin touched her sister on the shoulder, and, in the wordless language that the twins used to communicate, she made her sister aware that there was nothing they could do here, but there was still work to be done.

Her sister rose slowly, and dried her eyes. They descended the palace steps, and found the captain of the militia there, standing over the bodies of the four slain men and women.

"Are these the ones who killed our queen and king?" Caerlin asked in an eerily emotionless tone.

"Yes, my lady," the captain answered, head bowed and trying to contain his own tears.

Caerlin looked at the crumpled forms on the ground. "Did you find anything which we may use to identify who sent them?"

The captain looked at her, confused. "They are Eternian, my lady."

Caerlin looked at him squarely in his eyes. "I am aware of that, captain. Their clothing makes that fact obvious. However, I asked you if we know who in Eternia sent them? Did you find any sort of identifiable mark on their clothing?" she asked in a tone that managed to be both annoyed and patient.

The captain shook his head. "There was nothing on their clothing, lady. However we did find this." He held out a white object to her, and she took it from him.

Caerlin examined the object in her hands, and then showed it to her sister. It was a feather, white, with an aqua and gold tip upon it.

Moria looked at it, and then looked at her sister. "You are more familiar with Eternian ways than I am, sister. Do you know what this means?"

Caerlin looked eastward, to where she knew the castle pictured on the feather lay. "Yes, sister, I know whose feather this is," she replied with a faraway quality in her voice.

Moria placed her hand upon her sister's shoulder. Caerlin turned to look into the crisp, blue eyes she loved so much. Her sister caressed her face gently with the same hand.

"Who killed our parents, Caerlin?" she asked softly.

The elder of the two sisters dropped her eyes and gazed eastward again. Then she met her sister's eyes again. "The same one who took me from you over three centuries ago."

Both sisters turned and stared eastward as one, standing side by side like a pair of twin Athenas, preparing for battle.

"My so-called 'Mother,'" Caerlin spat with nearly tangible, acidic hatred. "And Zoar, her little brat."

Moria looked over at her sister, and saw a red film of what she could only term Bloodwrath rise into her sister's eyes. Caerlin looked over at her sister, and a twisted sort of smile came upon her lips.

"You know, sister, I told the little one that she would never be rid me, and that I would be a scourge upon the planet for her people."

Moria's eyes became tinted with a little fear, not of her sister, for she knew that Caerlin would never harm her, but for her sister.

Caerlin's smile became a twisted grin, and she laughed coldly. "I think it's time I show the girl that I plan to make good upon that promise."

As she spoke these words, the last discernable light faded as moons clouded over, and darkness fell upon the world as her words echoed in the ears of the militia.

Far in the distance, beyond the great mountains, a girl who appeared fifteen sat up from her nightmare. The cold, icy laughter still echoed in her ears, and she heard the same seven words that had haunted her dreams for many consecutive nights now.

The girl looked out her window and saw darkness fall upon the world as the moons disappeared.

Frightened, she saw the same cold, amethyst eyes in her mind as they were in her dream, and heard the icy laughter again.

"Caerlin," Zoar whispered into the growing darkness, and a chill crept up her spine. There would be no more sleep for her this night.

Chapter Four: Goodbye, 'Mother'

The mourning period for the deceased lasted a full twenty-fours hours, true to Dereskian custom. Traditionally, at moonrise of the second day, the new monarch was crowned. In this case, since Caerlin was technically older than her sister, she would be crowned Queen of the Dereskïgiä when the Red moon of Eläni rose to full height.

She had asked her sister if they could not have a dual monarchy, so that both she and her sister could be joint Queens. Moria replied that, although such a thing was not unheard in the past, she did not wish for such a system. Moria pressed for Caerlin to take the throne singly, telling her sister that she did not desire in any way the crown.

The ceremony was to be held at the exact moment when the Red moon rose to its full height. The reason for this was simple. When a Dereskian passed from this world, all of the strength and wisdom he or she possessed was passed on to the surviving members of the Dereskïgiä. When anyone died, regardless of whether or not he or she had been a monarch, their power, their life-force flowed to the remaining population. This happened only when the Red moon of Eläni rose, and thus, at moon height, the ceremony traditionally occurred. However, that night when the Red moon rose, the crowning ceremony did not take place. Caerlin had ordered that the ceremony was not to take place until the murderer of her parents was brought to justice in accordance with Dereskian law.

She sent out patrols to the Eternian border, and had them disguised as natives of the city she had grown to despise in her youth. She told them which questions to ask, as well as which people to ask them of.

Before the Blue moon had finished in its phases, the patrols came back, and their answers were all the same. The signs had been altered to make it appear as if the attackers were merely a raiding party. However, one of the raiders had apparently been careless, and, after receiving instructions, had kept the feather on which they were marked.

Upon close examination, the feather was discovered to have hidden markings along the colored half. The markings were almost impossible to see with the naked eye, but it was discovered that after water was poured upon them, large markings describing the layout of the palace was visible.

The results, carefully examined, all brought Caerlin to one conclusion: it was indeed the Sorceress of Grayskull who had ordered the attack.

Once it became certain beyond all manner of doubt that Caerlin's 'mother' was to blame, she ordered the militia to go to Eternia for an arrest. Both she and Moria accompanied the force.

They reached the castle walls with little incident, barring a brief encounter with Eternian border patrols. Upon attempting to enter, it was discovered that a field of some sort had been placed around the walls. Since Grayskull was a castle surrounded on all sides by a seemingly bottomless ravine, it was needless to say that this posed a small problem.

Caerlin surveyed the area, and used a bit of her own Majicks to determine the power and strength with which the shield was held up. She reached a decision, and dismissed the militia with no warning. The captain tried to protest such a movement, but Caerlin would hear none of it. She ordered both the arresting force and her sister to disperse and get far from the castle. The militia left, but Moria did not. Caerlin relented, having never been able to refuse her sister anything.

The elder sister closed her eyes, and emptied herself of her passions, her wills, and her desires. Her eyes flashed open, revealing twin orbs bursting with what seemed to be lightning, and great bursts of amethyst-colored light shot forth.

The force field crumpled, not because of the force of Caerlin's will, but rather, her lack of will.

Moria looked on, amazed, and a bit startled. "How did you do that? Not with will- power."

Caerlin chuckled, "No, the strength of one's will has no effect upon true Majick, sister."

"Why is that? My teachers always taught me that it was only through will that you managed to have any control over Majicks." Moria asked, as she watched her sister seem to empty herself again and stood, awed as the drawbridge dropped.

"That is what Celeno said as well. She told me that Majick could only be controlled if one has the strength and power to control it. That's true, but I discovered that Majick couldn't be won through willpower alone. As a wise woman once said, 'the entire world is driven by a will-- blind and ruthless. In order to transcend the limitations of that world, you need to stop willing-stop desiring-stop hating.'"

Moria nodded. "I can see how desires and foolish hatred could get in the way of using high Majicks."

The elder sister nodded, and kissed her sister on the cheek. "For luck," she said, as the drawbridge finished its descent and slammed onto the ground with a dull thud.

Caerlin walked inside the castle first, as she was the most familiar with it. Moria followed quickly after, and the bridge rose behind them slowly, making no sound. The elder sister grabbed a torch from the wall, and gestured for her sister to follow closely behind her and make no sound.

They traveled through the maze of passages, Caerlin easily negotiating her way through the countless illusions and tricks meant to thwart invaders. She finally led them to a long and narrow hallway. Grinning slightly when she saw a familiar blue light, Caerlin approached a door at the end of the hall, and whispered to Moria that she should remain outside. Moria disagreed and made a good argument, but in the end, the young woman remained outside.

The door opened quietly when pushed, well greased so as not to make a sound. She left the door open, and walked inside. The sight of a large, gold pyramid awaited her, with an enormous viewing glass at the pinnacle. Gazing into the glass was a woman dressed in gold and aqua, with sparkling white-feathered wings at her back and a falcon headdress covering her hair. In the woman's hand was a golden staff with the emblem of another falcon atop it.

She looked into the glass, and was unsurprised to find an image of herself, standing in the same spot she was standing, staring back at her. She then turned her attention back to the falcon-dressed woman as she turned to face her.

"Caerlin," the Sorceress said simply with no emotion in her voice, and flew down from the pyramid. "Why have you returned to the castle when you know you've been banished?"

The younger woman said nothing, simply staring at the Sorceress as dull hatred entered her eyes.

"What?" asked the Eternian. "Is the bold Caerlin so perfect that she can no longer stand speaking to her mother?"

You are no mother of mine, came Caerlin's voice in the older woman's head. The younger woman's eyes narrowed as she glared at the Sorceress.

The Sorceress stared, shocked at the Dereskian. "So," she said. "You've learned to project your thoughts into the minds of others. I'm impressed."

I do not do it to impress you, I do it because I find the taste of Eternian words foul upon my tongue. A breeze came up in the room, lifting the young woman's moon-colored hair, and swirling it in the wind.

The Sorceress smiled in a smug sort of way. "You strive so hard to believe and let others believe that you were never my child, Caerlin. But it was I who raised you, I who brought you up, I who-"

Took me from my true parents and people, denied me my history, exiled me when you no longer had a use for me, and then killed my parents when I was sleeping?

"I didn't kill your parents, dear Caerlin," The older woman answered with acid in her voice, approaching the young woman slowly.

No, you merely arranged it. The Dereskian threw her shoulders back in defiance.

The Eternian stopped in her advance and smiled. "So, you know of that. I'm not surprised. You always were good at putting two and two together."

Unlike you, who never was very good at covering her tracks.

A dark color appeared in the older woman's eyes. She raised the hand not grasping the staff and a small ball of energy formed into her palm. "You go too far, Caerlin. And your next words will be 'I've only just begun.'" The older woman paused as if expecting a retort, but Caerlin was silent. The young woman turned her eyes from the Eternian and looked at her feet.

The Sorceress laughed. "You can't surprise me, girl. I know you. Whereas you know nothing!" She threw the energy ball at the younger woman, expecting it to collide and send her sprawling, or at the very least she expected some sort of feeble defense.

The ball stopped in midair a foot from its target. The Dereskian hadn't even raised a hand to stop it. Then, faster than the Sorceress could think about what Caerlin had just done, the ball reversed and sped towards its sender.

The ball knocked the woman off her feet, and sent her lying on the floor. The Sorceress rose for another attack, and raised her staff. The Dereskian's blue eyes sparkled as the light from the staff flickered. "Wait a minute," said the Sorceress. "Blue eyes! You're not-"

A body slammed into her from behind, knocking the older woman down upon the ground and winding her. The Sorceress, gasping for breath, looked back at the woman who had been standing in front of her and now saw two women, one with icy blue eyes and the other with the light purple eyes she had known in past years.

Hello, Sorceress, the same voice spat in her head as the true Caerlin stepped forward. She looked down at the crumpled woman on the floor and smiled wickedly. Surprised? she asked maliciously.

"I won't go back with you, you know," The older woman huffed, trying to get her breath back. "I'd rather die!" She fired a blast from her staff at the elder sister, but Caerlin merely deflected it back again, showing hardly any effort.

That can be arranged, she retorted, too happily. She closed her eyes and a larger energy ball formed in front of her. The amethyst orbs opened and the ball flew towards the Sorceress.

At the last minute, the older woman shot another ball forward, not stopping Caerlin's but halting it a bit. The larger ball hit the Eternian, but the smaller one burst through and headed towards the first target it could find, not Caerlin, but Moria.

Caerlin saw where the ball was heading and launched herself toward her sister, taking the energy blast in her stomach and falling into a heap.

"Caerlin!" Moria screamed and ran to her sister's side. The ball had picked up some of Caerlin's own blast when it had passed through it, and Caerlin's side had a nasty gash across it, as if the blast was a knife slicing through warmed butter.

The Eternian had fared far worse, taking the brunt of the larger ball directly into her stomach. A hole roughly the size of a person's fist had been punched directly through her abdomen. Her breathing gurgled as blood filled what remained of her lungs, and small streams of blood flowed like open wounds out of her mouth.

Moria did not bother checking the Eternian's vital signs. She knew the sounds of Death when she heard them. Her sister's eyelids fluttered open, and a great sigh of relief pushed its way past Moria's lips.

Caerlin smiled up at her sister, and used her hands to examine the cut at her side. She closed her eyelids and emptied herself of all pain she was feeling, all hatred and adrenaline coursing through her veins. A white light enveloped her hands, and when her eyes opened, the slash was all but gone.

Moria hugged her sister tightly, and embraced her warmly. "Never do that again," she whispered into her sister's hair.

Caerlin smiled weakly as she was cradled. "I'll try to avoid it," she answered, trying to stand. She leaned upon her sister for leverage, and stood slowly, not wanting the blood to rush to her head. She looked over at the dead Eternian woman, and a dull smile crossed her lips.

"Farewell, 'mother,'" she spat acridly in the coarse language of the Eternians, and then she departed, holding on to her sister for support.

The next day, the people of Eternia noticed that it was unusually bright around Castle Grayskull, as if someone had built a large fire, like a pyre, and was letting it burn through the day. And at night, they noticed it was very silent in the areas around the castle.

Some few found, however, that in the dead of the night, a faint sound could be distinguished in the wind. The sound was weak, and of the few that could hear it, even fewer could actually distinguish it for what it actually was: the cries and sobs of weeping.

Two moonrises later, the entire population of the Dereskïgiä rejoiced as Caerlin was crowned Queen of the Dereskian people. Moria was made her chief and most trusted advisor. The energies of their mother and father swelled and then spread across the crowded masses, entering in equal parts, and melding with the individuals' own spirits.

Moria smiled as the people cheered her sister's crowning. She looked behind her at her sister, who was standing, tall and regally, with the silver and amethyst crown of the Dereskïgiä upon her head. She winked at her younger sister, and smiled.

That night, the sisters curled up in their sleep, and fell easily into the arms of a dreamless void. When all was said and done, it had been a fairly exhausting week.

Chapter Five: A War Begins

The next century or two were pleasant enough for Caerlin and her sister. With her crowning, Caerlin had become aware of the Ancients, a council of the Dereskïgiä, famed for their wisdom. The youngest member of this council was over the age of 800, and thus the name for the group was well chosen. She learned that the Ancients had been a part of the Dereskian government since its formation, long before any other civilization had been formed. There was not much that the Ancients did not know. They acted much as she and her sister had done while her parents had ruled. They listened and watched, intervening only when necessary. When they did intervene, it was with careful anonymity. The Ancients were a hidden part of the government, acting only in secret. It had been this way for well over two millennia, and it would stay this way.

Caerlin also learned that the Ancients were nearly all-powerful spell casters and workers of Majick. With her crowning, she discovered that she had automatically become a member of the old order, and she was now the youngest of the Ancients. There were very few times in recorded history where the monarch had been only four hundred or so, but the Ancients seemed willing to accept her. At Caerlin's persistence, the Ancients also allowed Moria to become a part of the council. Together, the twins and the Ancients made an almost omnipotent grouping. The Ancients knew all of past events, and the oldest members were also able to predict the future on a small level, and the sisters were all acquainted with present events, both among the Dereskïgiä and with spies watching the Eternians.

To be able to learn of past events more closely, one of the Ancients showed Caerlin and her sister the secret libraries of the Dereskïgiä. These were chambers only accessible to the Ancients. Within the most wondrous of rooms were contained volumes written by every king, queen, or Ancient who had ever lived. Now that Caerlin was queen, it would be her duty to record all events in one of the journals, including all those who were born and those who died during her reign. The first entry she wrote dictated the murder of her mother and father. She wrote this in her parent's own journal, so that future generations would not wonder why her parents' journal had stopped with no warning. Moria stood closely by when her sister did this, helping her to think of particular phrases or words when Caerlin hesitated.

Caerlin governed efficiently, with Moria always at her side, and the utopian society of the Dereskïgiä entered into a new realm of peace and contentment. There were occasional raids from Eternian war parties, but these became few and far between when the militia was unleashed upon them.

For the next four centuries, the Dereskïgiä grew, prospered, and thrived. Somewhere along the way, Caerlin cast a spell upon herself and her sister, denying the aging process, little as it was. Even the eldest of the Ancients, well into his thousandth year, only appeared about seventy-five. The aging process of the Dereskïgiä slowed the older one was, but Caerlin and her sister already appeared in their early thirties. They supposed that was old enough. There was no spell that anyone knew of that could cease the aging process altogether, so Caerlin cast an spell which, for every five hundred years she and her sister lived, would only age them one year.

By the time the twins had reached their six hundred and fiftieth year, the population had grown from six hundred thousand to eight hundred thousand. The people had discovered another marble quarry, and construction for a new city was almost complete. This city was carved and built into the very rock of the mountains. There was a great lake at the top of one of these mountains, which was tapped to create a stream that ran down the mountainside and into a large dam just to the side of the city. The dam actually had an expansion built into it, which served as the only gateway to the city. The mountains surrounded the new metropolis completely, so that there was no other way in short of climbing up the mountains. Such a feat would take weeks, as Caerlin herself had learned when she first came to her homeland.

As the city was reaching completion, there came to be an argument among the Dereskïgiä, concerning what the name of the new village would be. Some wished to name it after Eläni, as the capitol was. However, others did not wish to have two cities named after the one sole deity, and they wished to name the new town after themselves, as the Dereskïgiä. Caerlin was asked for her viewpoint when the matter reached her attention. She and Moria discussed possibilities together, and in the end, posed the question to the Ancients, relying on their wisdom. All of the Ancients, Caerlin and Moria included, felt this was a slightly trivial issue, but they knew it had to be resolved, for it was little things such as this that caused the people to be unhappy. Immediately, the two options the Dereskïgiä had suggested were vetoed, for if the Ancients were to place one over the other, the other would riot. The issue of whether or not to name it after the current monarch came and went, Caerlin negating that idea the minute it was conceived. She did not want the town named after her.

Eventually, Moria thought of a way to solve the problem, she named the town Elënuial, the twilight of stars, that the people should see the town and always remember that it was from the stars Eläni came, and it was to the stars they would go after they died. The people rejoiced in the name, and a grand celebration was held.

The celebration lasted for nearly a week, and the feasts and dancing were held within the halls of the new town hall for affairs of state. She and Moria attended, of course. The celebration ranged from a formal ball to a costume and mask party. Nearly the entire population was in attendance, and the town hall quickly became too small. The remainder of the celebration was held outside in the circle.

Outside of the mountains, a not-so-small force slowly made its way toward the land of the Dereskïgiä. Over the past centuries, the Eternians had learned not to attack in small groups. A larger force was required if one was to invade the Dereskïgiä. Led by their captain, under direct order of the Council of Elders, the strike force of Eternia made its way slowly toward the utopian lands.

Enjoying herself at the celebration, totally oblivious to any threat outside, Moria danced with her sister in the square. Caerlin suddenly collapsed onto the floor, holding her head in her hands.

"Caerlin." Moria exclaimed, dropping to the ground to help her sister. "What's wrong?"

Her sister looked up, eyes clouding over slowly. "Find the captain. Have him mobilize the militia. We have to get to the capital and notify the Ancients."

"Notify them of what?" Moria asked helping her sister to her feet. "What's wrong, sister?"

Caerlin stood shakily on her feet, leaning heavily of Moria. She looked deeply into her sister's eyes, and did not need to say a word.

Moria turned to a nearby official and whispered inside his ear as Caerlin walked to the center of the hall.

"It is my regret to announce that the party must come to a close," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "Anyone who is in the militia, report to your captains outside. The rest of you, get into the safe rooms built at the back of this town. There is no cause for alarm, but everyone needs to get to there as quickly as possible." She smiled reassuringly at her more curious than frightened people. "Everything will be fine," she said calmly. "Go, quickly."

As the inquisitive hordes fled quickly to the safe quarters hat had been carved into the base of the mountain, hidden from view, Caerlin found her sister outside along with the men and women of the militia.

She approached then regally, and addressed them as the same calm tone. "Everyone report to your posts around the perimeter of the city. Make sure your weapons are ready for fighting."

"Your highness," spoke up the head captain, "What is going on? Why is there such a need?"

Caerlin turned her gaze toward him, and he nearly froze in his tracks. His queen's eyes were like twin pools of ice, hardened with a strong determination. "There is a need, Captain Brëhin, because they are coming."

"Who is coming, my queen? And why?" He questioned.

Caerlin's eyes began to whirl and pinwheel as the light form the Three Moons darkened in color.

"Do not question your queen," Moria said from her sister's side. "Know only that they come, and they come to kill. Now report to your posts, ladies and gentlemen. And make ready."

Moria placed a hand upon her sister's shoulder and looked deep into Caerlin's eyes as she finished, "We go to war."

Chapter Six: Borderline

That night was one of the longest in Caerlin's life. She and her sister sat, as runners went from village to village, warning those who were not behind the walls of Elënuial to get there quickly.

Sometime before midnight, the remaining Ancients had arrived. They met in the conference room of the town hall, and decided that Elënuial was probably the safest place for the Dereskïgiä to go. As the approaching armies neared their destination, the final few of the population entered the city gates, which were then barred.

The Ancients fortified the walls and barred walls by linking their hands and using their joint energy to create a Majick barrier. Their actions would be repeated later on by the Eternian Council of 'Elders', though they did not know that at the time. After a while of conversing with the Ancients about their defense, Caerlin went to prepare for the battle.

There had been much argument among the Ancients on whether or not Caerlin and Moria should be allowed to fight. However, as Caerlin pointed out, she was the best swordsperson in the nation, as well as being rather adept at Majicks. Moria was the highest voice in opposition to her sister's fighting, and vice versa. It was argued that Caerlin should fight because she was queen, but that Moria should not fight because if she did, and both of them were killed, there would be no one to take the throne. The opposite was argued. In the end, Caerlin decided she would fight, but ordered that Moria stay out of the battle. Moria argued against her orders, but Caerlin denied any refusal. She was forced to pull rank on her sister, and that was possibly the worst moment of her life.

Caerlin dressed slowly, her sister nearby, helping her, but not saying a word. The elder sister wished there was something she could say, something to break this uneasy silence. She was clothing herself in the ancient manner of Dereskian fighters. She wore a long, black, button-up garment, with long sleeves and several slits running up and down her thighs. Beneath it, she wore an armored length of chain mail, which fully encompassed her chest and entire middle body. She wore no type of helmet, and her only weapons were a pair of twin swords at her sides.

She finished putting on her armor, and was about to leave the room. She turned around for one last look at her sister, and tears filled her eyes. Blinking them away, she left the chamber, and went out to stand with the militia and whomever else they had gathered to fight.

"Caerlin!" Moria cried behind her, and the elder turned around to have her sister fling herself into her arms. Tears flowed freely from both their faces and mingled together. Behind them, a group of soldiers passed by, on their way to the front gates. The twins looked at them, and then back at each other.

"They're nothing but children," Caerlin said sadly. "Look at them, they're so scared. They don't know what they're doing. Most of them have probably never held a sword in their lives."

Moria held her sister tightly. "Don't go, Caerlin. They'll manage without you." Her voice began to break up because of her tears. She couldn't speak another word, and she leaned her head upon her sister's neck.

Caerlin let her tears fall now, as she had not done at her parent's death. "Moria," she whispered hoarsely. "They won't. You know that as well as I do. They need their queen now."

Moria nodded slowly. "But I need my sister now." She looked into Caerlin's eyes. "You're the only family I have left, Caerlin, and I love you, as I have never loved anyone else. If anything ever happened to you I… I don't know what I'd do."

"Moria." Caerlin answered, wiping the tears from her sister's eyes as fresh ones fell to take their place. "You are the only one is the world I have actually cared for. I do not intend to lose you, and I do not intend to let you lose me."

"Sister," the younger twin said, hugging Caerlin tightly, her arms wrapped around the elder's shoulders. "What if you don't come back to me?"

Caerlin drew away and looked deeply into her sister's eyes. "Don't talk like that, of course I'll come back." The tears fell freely now, dropping onto her chest and were echoed in her sister's eyes.

"How can you be sure?" Moria asked, holding her sister's arms and looking always into her eyes.

"This is Love," Caerlin said simply, "Do you think Eläni would let it stop?"

And that was enough. They held onto each other as if they would never let go. It began to rain. They stood there, not caring about the rain, only holding on to each other, letting nothing stop them. At last, Caerlin broke away and looked into the almost glowing blue eyes she loved so much.

"I'll come back, sister, I promise. Wait for me?" She wiped her eyes, but it could not be seen whether it was rain or tears that stained her hand.

"Of course I will. I always will," Moria said, grasping her sister by the back of her throat and kissing her deeply. She broke away, and nodded. "Go," she said. "Go quickly, and come back as soon as you can."

Caerlin nodded, "Goodb-"

Moria interrupted her, "Don't say good-bye. I don't want it to sound like I'll never see you again."

Caerlin nodded, and turned away from her sister. "I love you," she said as she reached the door. And then she was gone.

She traveled beyond the gate, and felt it close behind her. She looked out at the number of troops, and heart sank somewhat in her chest. These were only mere children, or else Dereskians that had seen many seasons past their prime. Caerlin gazed behind her, toward the building she knew housed the Ancients and her sister.

"Good luck." She whispered into the wind. Then she faced her troops and gave out her orders. In a moment, the sad, dismal looking youths had come to attention and stood, poised. In that instant, if the Eternians had arrived, it was probable that they would have been annihilated quickly. But, as it was, the enemy did not come, and by the time they did come, the army's morale would have been much depleted.

Caerlin knew this, as well as she knew how to handle the double swords at her waist. The morale would drop, but it was her duty to be sure the troops stayed enthused. She simply did not know how to accomplish this.

She watched the faces of her troops grow brighter as she spoke to them, speaking to them of the inadequacy of the Eternian army, but how their numbers would be far greater than the Dereskïgiä could ever hope to meet.

Some of the soldiers faltered at this information, but Caerlin smiled.

"Do not lose heart at the thought of many opponents. It is not the amount of soldiers that are important, it's the battles you choose, and most importantly, the people you protect. It is often the causes that have the least possible chance of success that are the most worthy of fighting for. And, you will find that in all the battles of all history, those which are most renowned and revered are also those which had little hope of victory."

Their resolve set anew, the three thousand soldiers of the Dereskïgiä turned their eyes back to the horizon in unison, and they waited. Within the walls of the city, the Ancients, Moria included, stood, waiting, in a circle, their hands linked in preparation for spell casting.

And as the approaching force drew nearer, the clouds over the three moons parted just a little, and beams of white, light blue and dark red fell upon the city of Elënuial, filling the people with a kind of peace.

Standing at the Borderline, surrounded by her troops, Caerlin began humming a song she had once never thought she knew, and she smiled slightly.

Mantë minas gond barad ith darat tet nanës pagalen, proo mez calli wod bar? tet li, mez cuivië emuin, ath ëaren.

"Moria," she whispered, and then was silent.

The banners of a faraway army were becoming barely visible in the distance. Beneath the rays of the three moons, standing on the Borderline, the Dereskïgiä stood, swords in hands, and they waited.

Chapter Seven: The Borderline Grows

"Stand together!" Caerlin shouted to her troops. "And remember what I told you: Ours is a cause worth fighting for. The enemy is on our land, in our homes. We have the advantage, not them. They may beat us in their numbers, but they will never truly defeat us.

"Under the light of Eläni, we fight." As Caerlin spoke the ancient words of a Dereskian monarch to the people, the soldiers nodded in unison.

"Under the might of Eläni, we will triumph!" The soldiers shouted as one, their voices echoing across the hills.

The Eternian soldiers marched closer, until they were about a hundred yards away from the gates of Elënuial. The leaders of the party stepped forward, and shouted in broken Dereskian, "Will talk wiv yare quenn!"

Caerlin drew one of her swords and walked forward to the midway point, accompanied by the three lead generals of the army. She cut an impressive figure, striding through her ranks of soldiers; head thrown slightly back as she walked with an almost liquid grace. Her moon-colored hair billowed as a small wind picked up, and the light from the near-fading three moons cascaded over her hair and face.

"What would you say to the Queen of the Dereskïgiä?" one of the generals at her side said.

"We come with a message from the Sorceress of Grayskull," another Eternian said, his accent more understandable.

Caerlin nodded, and, though she hated herself for doing so, answered in Eternian, "What is your message?" Her voice was cold and unmoving, like a lake of ice frozen over in a glacier.

The second person that had spoken, obviously the leader, was thrown aback. "I was not aware you could speak our language. This will make our discussion much easier."

"State your message, or there will be nothing to discuss," Caerlin's face betrayed no emotion barring pure hatred. Her eyes were half-lidded, as if she found all of this to be trivial.

The Eternian, a captain by the name of Mindor, eyed the queen with uncertainty. "Are you so eager to kill off your three thousand troops?"

A small smirk eased its way on Caerlin's face. "Three thousand? Funny, I was sure I counted ten." As if previously invisible, another seven thousand men and women were illuminated along the walls of the city, some with bows and arrows, other with javelins and slings, and more with swords.

The other Eternians started as their eyes grew wide with what could only be described as fear. Was it really wise to fight against a people that could make seven thousand soldiers invisible to the eye?

The captain was the only Eternian able to control his shock and suppress it. He cleared his throat, and said, "The message is this: 'Look well upon your people, for how long shall it be until they have disappeared?'"

Caerlin did her best to suppress a small chuckle, but her frame vibrated from it nevertheless. "My, my. The Sorceress certainly is unoriginal, isn't she?" She winked at the Eternian troops, and a shudder went through them.

"Is that all, captain?" She spoke his title with almost mockery, her eyes teasing.

The captain closed his eyes and nodded, refusing to let this she-demon get to him. "That is all, unless, of course, you think a surrender would be wise?"

"I accept. Generals, take their weapons," she said, letting the conversation echo in the minds of her soldiers. The Dereskians hooted with a small amount of laughter, and Caerlin smiled.

The Eternian nodded in a sort of grim respect, and the Queen of the Dereskïgiä bowed, and turned away, her long garment swaying in a small breeze as she did so.

With a yell, one of the Eternian soldiers, a young one with little experience in the ways of war, cast a dagger towards the Queen's unprotected back.

At the last possible second, Caerlin whirled and caught the knife easily, eyeing it and then the soldier who had thrown it. She watched the ranks of Eternians, and smiled wickedly. She then faced the 'talking party' again and nodded her head in recognition to the captain.

She returned to her lines, stopping at the head of her army to pocket the knife and draw her other sword. She waited as the captain and his party returned to his lines and watched as he placed a plumed helmet upon his head.

"Be ready," Caerlin called to her soldiers, both those present at the lines and those not yet seen. She had to laugh at the stupidity of the Eternians. Did they honestly think that in a population of nearly eight hundred thousand, the army only consisted of ten thousand people?

The downside to keeping the majority of her army hidden was that she could not be sure that they were in their correct places, and could only hope the Ancients would remove their invisibility spell at the correct time. She looked over at the walls of the great dam, and hoped that the rest of her soldiers would be in their positions if or when they were needed.

She chanced one last look behind her toward the great hall, and swore she could see her sister standing at the window. She smiled softly, and then turned as the enemy began to charge.

"Draw your weapons!" she shouted to her soldiers, and the air filled with the sounds of swords leaving their sheaths and arrows being fitted to their bows. "Archers!" she called, "Nár!"

The night air quickly became heavy with arrows and slingstones as the archers refilled their bows or slings and fired again. The entire front rank of the Eternian soldiers dropped. But there were many more soldiers to take their place. Caerlin realized now that even if her entire population were fighting, they would have still been outnumbered. It didn't matter, she told herself. Theirs was a cause worth fighting for, and that was enough. Then thinking became impossible as the flanks of Eternians reached the Borderline.

She raised her swords and sank them into the first of the soldiers. She removed them and went on to another soldier. The screams of the wounded quickly replaced the whizzing of arrows, and blood, dripping black in the moonlight, fell to the ground in great splatters.

Caerlin fought like one possessed, killing any Eternian she could get within reach of her swords. At times she fought more than one opponent, using both arms to deflect blows and both swords cut into the skin of her enemies. The Eternians wore light armor, as they had been forced to do because of the terrain. Climbing mountains in full armor was not something easily done. Their armor was weak just below the neck and at the sides below the ribs. But even the places most heavily guarded were not safe from Caerlin's swords.

Her weapons were fearsome things she had forged herself in her youth, when she had been so interested in all manner of weaponry. They had been forged out of a metal that was many metals combined. It was stronger than any other such as iron, steel, or brass, but it was light enough to be carried easily for long periods of time. It cut through the loose plate and mail armor of the Eternians like a warmed knife through softened butter.

Caerlin's own armor was cast of an alloy of this same metal, lighter and more easily wearable than the metal in its raw state. And it fit beneath her cloak-like garment well, so that it appeared she wore nothing beneath her black outer layer.

She became consumed with the raw lust of battle, cutting and slashing anyone who came near, having to bring herself in check when she was beside a soldier of her own army. The Eternians backed away from her, turning to fight other, less-mad Dereskians. But the power of the Queen was felt throughout the lines, and the fighting Dereskïgiä saw her ferocity and were heartened. Their own ferociousness increased, and they fought like a people possessed. Even the wounded Dereskians fought like mad beasts, ripping and tearing their enemies apart, sometimes with their bare hands.

The battle raged on, and before long the Dereskïgiä had cut through several lines of hundreds of Eternians. They had lost about two hundred by the time the moons sank in the sky. Once the light of the Red Moon had dissipated, the people of the Dereskïgiä became somewhat dismayed. If the light of Eläni was not with them, how could they hope to succeed? As the ranks slowly faltered, Caerlin slowly became aware of the problem, and of its source. She finished cutting through a particularly tough opponent, and let her mind flood into those of her soldiers. Do not be disheartened, she told them. Eläni has not left us, and she never will leave us. She has merely gone to watch her people from another viewpoint.

The voice of their queen echoing in the soldiers' minds, many of them turned to look at Caerlin as they fought. An odd sort of light seemed to be emitted from their queen, and it appeared as if she had sprouted wings from the base of her shoulder blades, one the spotless wing of a bird, and the other the midnight black of a bat. It seemed almost as if a choir of sweet music filled the air around her. She cut down at her enemies with little emotion betrayed upon her face, and it was noted that, although there were countless stains of blood upon the ground, within the circle of her light, there was nothing upon their Queen.

It was if Eläni herself had joined the battle, and the sight of their queen once again filled the Dereskïgiä with renewed hope. The soldiers felt a great sense of peace when they looked at her, and they felt their strength return to them. They cut and slashed, pushed and shoved, and more and more cries of the wounded filled the air.

The battle lasted on for hours. The dawn became midday, and then sunset. Both armies were tiring. Caerlin was dripping with perspiration, as were all the others. As the moons rose into the sky, their light seemed to blend, and fell upon the Dereskians in an amethyst hue, akin to the color of the Queen's eyes.

A truce for the night and the next day was called, and agreed upon. The wounded or dead of the Dereskïgiä were taken inside the city walls, and the remaining soldiers followed suit. The gates were barred and locked, with a guard of a thousand patrolling the top. These were soldiers that had not fought in the battle, and so were not tired. They had slept for much of this day, under the queen's order, and would fight in the battle of the day after next.

Caerlin crossed into the city at the back of her army, and the doors were shut behind her. That night, the pyres of the dead lighted the town square and could be seen for miles. Caerlin went into the hospital and looked at the wounded. When she entered, those that could sit up did so, and great smiles came upon the faces of the soldiers.

She traveled from person to person, talking to each of the wounded and smiling at them. It seemed to them as if a great angel had appeared to appease their misery, and they felt better. Caerlin herself had been fortunate enough to only receive a few scratches here and there. She spoke to a young woman, alleviating the pain of her broken arm by setting it properly and stopping the bleeding. She learned that the young woman's name was Loonithi, and that she had a husband and two young children. Loonithi asked Caerlin if she had anyone she cared about, and the Queen of the Dereskïgiä smiled and answered in the affirmative.

As she finished with the woman, she felt a soft hand upon her shoulder, and turned slowly around to look into the most beautiful pair of eyes she had ever seen.

"Moria."

Her sister said nothing, merely smiled her soft, secret smile and led her sister away from the hospital.

That night, the pyres of the dead lit the night, and the three moons shown down upon the glowing city of Elënuial. Caerlin slept, cradled in her sister's arms, knowing that the night after next, the battle would continue after the mourning period for the deceased ended.

The Borderline would run red with the blood of both sides and be washed away completely.

Chapter Eight: The Borderline Fades

Part One

The morning dawned upon the battlefield in a dank haze. The early morning mist rose above the ground, still wet with blood. The day of mourning commenced as Caerlin and her sister appeared from their chambers in the town hall.

Caerlin was once again dressed in her battle gear, looking every inch the warrior queen. At her side, Moria was dressed in a garment exactly similar to her sister's, except whereas Caerlin's clothing was black as midnight, Moria's was the pure and spotless white of a dove's wings. She also wore the light mail beneath her clothing as was customary. They descended down the steps together, hand in hand, until they reached the bottom.

They looked out over the still-smoking pyres of the dead, and their hearts sunk as one. So many had died, and so many more were wounded. In her arms, Caerlin held the journal of recording. She would write in this journal the names of all who had died, as well as their parent's names and who their survivors were.

The twins walked from pyre to pyre, consulting with the families of the deceased. There was little sadness among the families, for the Dereskians considered death to be simply another life. Since the spirits of those passed went into the remaining Dereskians as well as their energy, Death was merely thought of as the passing of the body.

The mourning period of the dead was traditionally intended to last until moonrise, and so it would today, Caerlin and her sister decided. The day passed by quickly, and by the time the sun was at the midway point in the sky, Moria and Caerlin's work was nearly completed.

It was around noon when everything changed. The guards at the gates to the doors shouted a warning, telling the people to flee back into the caves.

The twins raced to the city gates as the rest of the Dereskïgiä ran back into safety. Once they had arrived at the top of the city walls, Caerlin instantly identified the problem.

The Eternians had decided not to wait for another day and had been given orders to lay siege to the city. A massive catapult had been constructed beyond the view of the scouts, and, after completion, had been wheeled to the gates. Caerlin had taken one look at the catapult and her eyes widened.

"Get away from the walls!" she ordered her gatemen. To Moria, she said, "Come, we must summon the Ancients!"

The two ran down the walls and back into the hall, entering the chambers of the Ancients and telling them emergency action was needed. The Council instantly linked hands and formed a barrier, just in time to deflect the first of the catapult ammunition.

"Queen Caerlin," said the eldest of the Ancients. "Why did you summon the Council for this catapult? Surely your sister and yourself can deflect blows from so crude a weapon?"

Before Caerlin had a chance to respond, the force field the Ancients had erected shook under the impact of another blow. A resounding chorus of gasps filled the chamber.

"That is why, Council member Desëto." Caerlin said as they refortified the field. "That is no ordinary catapult the Eternians have built. It has a very powerful Magic at its core, which is fueling the machine and adapting it to the strength of any shield we produce."

"How did you know what it would do when you saw it, my lady?" Another member asked as the field was shaken and then increased again.

Caerlin was silent for the moment it took them to refortify the shield. "I've seen it before," she said after a time. "Or at least, I've seen the plans for it. It was an idea of my. 'sadly' deceased foster mother." Another missile thundered into the force field, this time almost crumbling it.

"At this rate, we'll run out of energy before long," Desëto commented, almost frightened.

Caerlin said nothing as they strengthened the field once more. She seemed to be deliberating for a long while, and two or three more missiles thundered into the field before she spoke again.

"We have no choice but to send out the army. We must fetch the generals." Her voice had a defeated tone to it, as if she had nearly given up hope.

One of the elder female Ancients exclaimed, "We can't fight! It's the day of mourning! To fight during the mourning period is-"

"Degrading of the memories of the dead. Yes, we know that, Lady Aleckli," interrupted Moria. "But if you have another solution, I'm sure we'd all be welcome to suggestions." Moria's eyes grew cold and hard, and she glared at Aleckli, almost daring her to make a suggestion.

Aleckli dropped her eyes. As if on cue, a missile from the catapult collided with the force field and broke through. A moment of panic went through the room as the missile exploded on the ground, leaving a hole of scorched earth where there was once a building of purest white marble.

Desëto nodded as they used what remained of their strength to heighten the power of the shield to its fullest. "Caerlin is right," he said. "We have no choice but to send out the army." The other Ancients, tired from the energy they were giving the shield, dropped their eyes and stared into the floor. They began to send a message to the generals through their minds.

"Wait," Caerlin said suddenly. The Ancients stopped their transmissions to look at their queen. Caerlin's eyes had lit up, and a wide grin filled her face. "Don't send out the army," she said. "There's another way."

"What way?" the others asked in almost unison.

As another missile bounced harmlessly off the recently powered-up shield, Caerlin's voice came out clear and calm. "Order the generals to open the dam. Flood the battlefield." Her face showed no emotion, even though the plan she had just suggested would kill the entire Eternian army or most of it. "We must hurry," she continued, "The last blast measured the force behind the field. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I have very little energy left to give it."

The other Ancients nodded, and sent a message to the Generals. Flood the dam. Drown them, they said.

The Generals led a portion of their soldiers to the walls of the dam to open it. As they neared the top, a few Eternian spies saw them and notified their superiors. A few well-placed arrows, and the force at the dam was no more. The Ancients had forgotten there was still an army outside the gates.

Before they could realize what happened, the last ammunition the Eternians had for the catapult was fired. Its targeted the safe caves. The missile collided with the force field, and the Ancients put all of the energy they had into making the shield more powerful. For an instant, the black, deadly sphere was deflected. But, an operative of the machine realized what was happening and turned up the setting of power for the missile.

With a seismic boom, the sphere broke through the barricade preventing it from its target. However, the force stopping it had thrown it slightly off course, and it collided instead with the base of the town hall.

The Ancients, drained of all energy, were thrown back against the wall with the impact. The building had lost its foundations, and, though Dereskian architecture was the strongest on the entire planet, no building can stand if its foundation is lost. The town hall crumbled and caved in on itself.

The doors to the city were devoid of people, as the guards had fled when the machine had first appeared. The Eternian army rushed into the city, and met with the complete force of the Dereskian army, which had been ordered to stand just beyond the gate after the first impact.

This was not the small, pathetic force the Eternians had fought with the day before. Even though it was a day for mourning, the entire fighting force of over five hundred thousand had appeared for the final battle. There was one small problem. The three main generals had gone with the group that opened the dam, and their queen was nowhere in sight. They had no leaders. There was no one to lead them, and no one to tell them what to do or how to do it. The way of war is simple enough, you merely kill anyone whom you do not know or who is not on your side; however, exact orders and plans are needed. One does not win a war out of sheer force of will.

The leaderless fighters of the Dereskïgiä did what they could. They fought for hours, and in no time at all, the scattered cries of wounded men and women filled the air. People were slashing and cutting at each other right and left, and blood filled the once treasured clean pristine streets.

In time, dark and heavy clouds came into the sky, blotting out the sun and sending the battlefield into utter darkness. It was as if the gods, both Eternian and Dereskian, could no longer stand to look down upon the sheer carnage. Nevertheless, nothing stopped. The cries still filled the air, and the sounds of swords clashing thundered in the streets of Elënuial. The world did not stop, the battle did not cease, and the blood continued to flow.

The full front of the battle lasted about ten hours. In seemed, for a while, that the battle, the war, was going in the Dereskians' favor. But, without a strategy, the Dereskïgiä was doomed. The sheer numbers of the Eternian warriors became too great. The remaining Dereskians fought as hard as they could, but it was in vain. They were outnumbered badly. They cut and slashed as many of the enemy as came within view. But with every Eternian that was cut down, another took his or her place. And soon, the Dereskian army was tiring. Their numbers began to dwindle, slowly at first, and then faster and faster.

The Eternians, perhaps sensing that victory was near, increased their energy and killed even those lying upon the ground, wounded and bleeding. They took no prisoners, slaying all those who were already too weak to continue fighting. In time, there was nothing left. The once-great army of the Dereskian people, shining and glorious, had faltered. The screams in the air became fainter, and faded out completely.

The shining city of Elënuial, so bright and new, was broken into bits of rubble, glass, and chunks of marble. Where there had once been grass as green as emeralds there was now only scorched earth and broken shards of glass.

The Eternian army had won. From the battlefield, the victorious army had no time for celebration. They knew that not all of the population had been fit to fight in the war, but they also knew that there was nowhere else in the country that they would be. The Eternians immediately began the search to find the missing Dereskïgiä.

A young soldier came upon the hidden entrance to the safe caves quite by accident, but once he had, it was reported immediately to his superiors. Soon, Eternian soldiers flooded the caves as the Ancients would have flooded them with water. Inside the caves, the remaining members of the Dereskïgiä hid, shaking in fear and confusion. They heard the footsteps of the soldiers and called upon Eläni to help them. But the creator of their world, it seemed, had turned a deaf ear.It did not take long for the Eternians, tired as they were, to wipe out the cowering populace, who were all too old or young to provide much of a fight. After the massacre was over, the 'victors' were sent to sweep across the city, checking the buildings for signs of life. If they were any found, the soldiers were ordered to end them.

Captain Mindor and his teams searched within the rubble of the Town Hall, and came upon the fallen forms of the Ancients. Mindor recognized the face, bloodied and scratched as it was, of the Queen Caerlin. Her eyes were closed, and her clothes were gray with ash and dust. He checked her pulse, and found it was weak but faint. He looked around nearby, having been told that another who looked like her would be found not far away. He moved a pile of loose rock, and found beneath it the crumbled form of a young woman. She, too, was alive, though very badly wounded.

Against his better judgment, Mindor took the live occupants of that room, men and women alike, to his medical tent, and gave his hospital staff strict orders to heal them, and, above all, keep them alive.

Behind him, the city of Elënuial burned as his army finished setting fire to the white buildings. This was a magic fire, or so he had been told. One that would burn marble as surely as normal fire did wood. The fire blazed, and a cheer went up from the Eternian hordes.

The soldiers returned to their encampments, which were beyond view of the city, but still within Dereskian lands. They killed those few people that had not entered the city, they looted the towns and villages and burnt them when they were finished.

Chapter Nine: The Borderline Fades

Part Two

Within the hospital tent of the Eternians, a woman began slowly to stir. She opened her eyes slowly and was forced to shield them from the brightness of the light. She gradually became accustomed to the brightness and looked over at her side. She smiled slightly at the figure next to her.

"Moria," she whispered, and then closed her eyes for the effort of her speech. Her voice was gravelly, rough and textured, and it made speech difficult. Her amethyst eyes closed, and she dropped blissfully back into oblivion.

She awoke several hours later, the sounds of a screaming woman in her ears. Her eyes snapped open, and she heard a gruff voice asking in badly accented Dereskian, "Tell me where they are! The secret books! Tell me, Queen!"

Caerlin saw that she was no longer in the hospital tent, but rather in a cold, dank room, which smelled of urine and old blood. The same captain she had met was standing over a prisoner on a rack. He blocked her view of the prisoner's face, but Caerlin knew instinctively who it was he was torturing.

"Moria!" she exclaimed, trying to rise to her feet but failing.

The captain did not seem to hear her, "Tell me! Where are they! You're the Queen! You must know where the books are!"

Caerlin tried once more to get to her feet, and stood, wobbling. "She's not the queen, you whimpering, idiotic excuse for a man," she said in flawless Eternian.

The captain turned around slowly, and did not hide his shock at seeing her standing. "What do you mean?" he asked, pushing her backwards. Caerlin landed in a fallen heap upon the stone floor.

"Caerlin!" Moria exclaimed, her voice hoarse and a small trickle of blood falling down her cheek.

"Caerlin?" the incredulous voice of Mindor thundered. He looked from the fallen form of the woman on the floor to the woman on the rack. "Her twin," he said accusingly, as if it were Moria's fault. "She's the queen!" he told his guard, pointing at Caerlin, who was gradually getting to her feet. "Switch them!" he ordered.

Caerlin shakily got to her feet and was instantly grabbed by the guard. She gave him an icy cold stare, so filled with frozen hatred that the guard felt he could not move. He tried to place Caerlin in a rack opposite her sister but found that he was actually frozen in place.

Caerlin took a deep breath, cleared her mind, and felt her strength return, though she made no outward appearance that this had happened. She looked into the astounded eyes of Mindor, and said simply, "There's no need to rack me, Captain.Mindor." She looked directly into the young man's mind, and what she saw made her burn with hatred.

"You desire the secret books of my people, is that not so?" Her voice slowly became more and more confident, though it would take an experienced ear to notice it.

"Yes," Mindor said. "Tell me where they are!" he shouted, making a motion as if he were going to strangle her.

She raised her hand, indicating for him to be silent, and he obeyed. Even in her weakened state, Caerlin still possessed the regal quality that made anyone around her listen when she spoke or made a gesture. "I will tell you where you can find the books, if you will answer me one question, and do me one favor."

"What is the question?" Mindor asked hopefully, like a puppy that knows he might get a treat from his master.

Caerlin lowered her hand and looked, not at Mindor, but beyond him, at her sister. "There were others in the chamber where you found my sister and I. A group of elderly people. They couldn't have all died in the blast. Where are they?"

Mindor nodded. "Yes there were. Only three others survived the blast, the others were either killed outright or trapped beneath the rubble."

"Where are the three that survived?" Caerlin asked in a tone that granted infinite patience.

Mindor looked into Caerlin's eyes, and said simply, "They're dead. Thy were nursed back to the point of health so that they could speak, and when it was discovered they wouldn't talk, they were killed."

Caerlin said nothing, merely looking always into her sister's eyes, and not into Mindor's. "Thank you," she said unemotionally. "And now for the favor."

"What is it?" Mindor asked.

Caerlin transferred her gaze to the captain, and said simply, "Let me get her down." The Eternian nodded, and Caerlin moved over to the rack with her ever-present liquid grace. She undid the straps holding her sister in place, and let Moria down gently. She lay her sister down upon a nearby table that was fairly clean. It was the one Caerlin had been on when she woke.

"Rest, my sister," she said in her own language, and cast a dreamless sleep upon her younger twin.

"Yes, well, this is all very touching," Mindor said with a not-so-little amount of malice in his tone. "But where are the books?"

Caerlin turned and looked deeply into her 'captor's' eyes. "The books," she said simply, "which you would not have been able to read anyway, were in the lower right hand level of the town hall." When she saw his black, vacant look, she elaborated, "The building we were in."

Realization dawned upon the captain slowly. "But the lower right-hand levels were where the projectile from the catapult hit!"

Caerlin nodded slowly, sadly. "Yes, they were. That means the books were destroyed."

"I know what it means!" Mindor yelled, coming towards her angrily.

The Queen of the Dereskïgiä backed away slowly, but it was not a retreat. "Do you?" she asked.

Mindor approached her, and grabbed Caerlin roughly around the throat. "Yes," he said, a sort of angry ecstasy coming into his eyes. "It means you and your sister serve no further use!"

Caerlin's eyes were clear and calm. "Does it indeed?" she asked, and swiftly kneed her assailant in the crotch.

"Oof!" he yelled, and dropped her, falling to the ground. Caerlin punched him in the face, hard, knocking him unconscious.

She scooped her sister into her arms, and sneered down at the cataleptic body of the captain. "Be thankful I am not the heartless murderer that you and your people are," she said, and departed.

Chapter Ten: The Borderline Fades Part Three

She ran with her sister in her arms, and knew she must go West. She ran, out of the dungeons, out of the prison compound, in search of an exit. Caerlin could feel rather than see that she was underground, but that did not phase her.

She continued on, coming close upon the exit. She burst through the door like a ray of sunshine through a cloud, and headed in the direction opposite the rising sun. She noticed the remaining stragglers of the Eternian army coming home, but she paid them no mind. She wanted nothing more to do with the Eternians; she wanted only to be home.

She raced across the capital city of the Eternians, and fairly soon had reached the gates. There was no longer a guard at them, so she concluded that they felt there was no longer a threat. Her heart sunk in her chest at the implications of that. But then she looked down at the woman in her arms, and a small smile caressed her lips. She had Moria, and though the rest of her people might be gone, she could still be content with the one left to her.

As she escaped the city, a lone sentry at the door, half asleep, saw her go past, and recognition slowly dawned. He set an arrow to his bow, aimed it at the quickly disappearing form of the black-clothed woman, and fired.

Caerlin paused as she felt the arrow go in, but it was only a momentary pain. She knew instantly that, though it was a deep wound, it would not kill her, and she could keep running.

And she did. The archer fit another arrow to his bow, and aimed, but he knew that she was already out of range. He put his arrow away, cursing loudly, and went off to find his captain to report the incident.

Caerlin did not slow her pace until the sun had risen to its full height, and even then, she did not stop. She walked, fairly fast, carrying her sister as if she weighed no more than a small sack of grain.

When the moons began to rise, Caerlin slowed. She could see the faint outlines of her mountains in the distance, but she knew she could not reach them without a rest. She reached a nearby cave that she had slept in when she first traveled to her homeland, and set her sister down gently, as if with a newborn. Only when she was sure her sister would not fall or roll away did she begin to check the severity of her wound. She tore her clothing away from the wound and used her fingers to judge the damage done. The arrow had struck just beneath a lower rib, fortunately not penetrating any of her internal organs. She reached behind her, felt the shaft coming out of her lower back, and cringed. The arrowhead had not come through the other side. She would have to push it through. She closed her eyes against the pain and grabbed hold of the wooden shaft of the arrow. Using what little strength remained to her after her run, she slammed her fist, and with it the arrow, into her back.

She gasped in both shock and sheer pain as the arrowhead protruded out of her middle. Breathing unevenly, she grabbed the arrowhead and broke it, leaving only the wooden shaft in her body. She pulled the shaft out from behind her, and tossed it and the metal arrowhead away. Using the littlest Majick possible, she healed off the center of her wound, but left the ends open once there was no immediate danger of infection. She left the ends to heal on their own, so that she would still be able to use the majority of her Majick to heal her sister.

Caerlin knew that it would not be long before Mindor sent a party after them, or even pursued them himself, which is why she had set such a grueling pace for herself. It was also why she was considering continuing onward. She crawled over to her sister, still a little woozy from the process of having an arrow removed from her middle.

She lay down upon her back, supine upon the cool, limestone floor. She looked over at her sister, who was still sleeping soundly. In the state they were in, Caerlin knew that it was infeasible that they would get any further for a while. She rested her head against her sister's shoulder, felt Moria nuzzle closer subconsciously, and welcomed the arms of oblivion.

As she slept, she felt the familiar swell of a dream come upon her and let it take its course.

She found herself within Castle Grayskull, standing once again before the great viewing screen. Caerlin looked down, and found herself dressed in a kimono-like garment, amethyst in color with black dragons embroidered on the sleeves. She felt eyes upon her, but did not turn around. She knew who was there. In this dream it was as if she could see from all viewpoints.

"Hello, Caerlin," came a distinctly young voice from behind her. Caerlin slowly turned around, and faced a woman who appeared at most the age of twenty. She was dressed as her mother had been the last time Caerlin had been at the castle.

"Hello, 'Sorceress'," she said, speaking the title in mock respect.

The young girl looked up at Caerlin inquisitively. Caerlin was a good five inches or so taller than the new Sorceress, as most Dereskians were taller than Eternians. "Why do you call me that?" the shorter girl asked.

Caerlin smiled and looked the girl in the eye, her kimono billowing in a phantom wind. "It is your title, is it not?" she asked, a twinkle glimmering in one of her eyes.

"Yes," the Sorceress answered. "But it seems odd coming from your mouth." The language they spoke was neither Eternian nor Dereskian but rather was the nameless speech of dreams.

The Dereskian Queen nodded, and noticed for the first time that her hair was pulled back into a single ponytail, and was wrapped by some sort of leather cord. "True enough," she said. "But I imagine it would sound more odd if I called you 'Zoar', now wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," said Zoar, gripping the staff with the falcon on it. Caerlin had not recalled seeing it in the girl's hand earlier, but determined that since this was a dream, it didn't matter.

"I have an idea," Caerlin said, smiling down at the Sorceress. "Since it sounds odd for me to call you by both your name and your title, I'll have to think of another name for you."

The Sorceress rose into the air until she was eye-height with the Dereskian. "And what would that be?" she asked, curious.

"Hmmm," Caerlin said, her smile morphing quickly into a grin. "Several options come to mind." She winked, and continued, "But no, I'll be nice. I will call you… Teelina."

The girl was silent for a moment. "Lynïa is 'sorceress' in your tongue, isn't it?" she asked, calling forth her knowledge of the Dereskian language.

Caerlin nodded, slightly bemused. "The more literal translation is 'magician,' but lynïa can also be translated to mean 'sorceress.' The word tëe means 'diminutive' or 'small.' Or, in this sense, 'young' or 'little.' 'Teelina,' then, would be translated roughly to mean 'little sorceress.'" Caerlin grinned. "I can't really call you simply 'sorceress' because that would bring to mind the image of your mother. And I wouldn't want my hatred for her to be reflected upon you." Her grin turned back into a smile that was almost a smirk.

The Eternian's eyes became cold and dark, almost to the point of being black. "You killed my mother, doesn't that ease your hatred for her?"

"Not really, no." Caerlin said, her smirk fading as she eyed the younger girl. "Your mother took me from my home and then killed my parents while they slept. You cannot possibly understand how it feels to be denied your entire existence and then, once you finally recover it, have someone try to snatch it away from you."

"But my mother is dead now," said the Eternian. "Surely that makes your hatred for her dull?"

"Do not lecture me on hatred, young one," Caerlin said sharply, her eyes beginning to pinwheel darkly. "Your people, in addition to taking me from my home and killing my parents, started a war for no reason other than their own greed. And now my entire country lies in smoking ruins, and my people are dead. Do not question the power of my hate." Her voice was icy but not cold, flat but not unfeeling.

She attempted to continue, but shuddered involuntarily. Caerlin looked down at her hands as they began slowly to disappear. "Apparently I must leave you now," she said as her voice began to fade.

The Eternian tried to grab hold of the older woman, but Caerlin's form had already grown too faint. "You can't escape my people forever, Caerlin!" she shouted as the last remnants of the Dereskian vanished. As the younger girl looked around for any clue as to where the older woman had gone, she heard her voice echo through the room. "I don't intend to, Teelina. Farewell."

Caerlin awoke to the sensation of someone gently tap-slapping her. "Sister," she heard a familiar whisper softly. "Wake up." The Dereskian queen's eyes slowly opened, and she was greeted with the sight of her sister sitting over her, her hands upon Caerlin's upper arms. The elder sister rubbed her eyes gently. "Moria?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

Her sister smiled and hugged her. "Good morning," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her sister's face and bending down to kiss her.

"Mmmm," Caerlin commented as they broke apart. "Very." A smile appeared on her face. She sat up slowly, wincing as a sharp pain came from her side as she moved.

Moria looked concerned as her sister finished sitting up. "I noticed that as you slept," she said, indicating her sister's wound. "What happened?" she asked soothingly.

"It's not important," Caerlin said, looking deeply into her sister's eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm all right," Moria said, absently touching her shoulder where a whip had cut her. "I healed myself as soon as I woke."

Caerlin smiled, and hugged her sister gently. "Good," she whispered into her sister's hair.

Moria drew back slowly. "What happened?" she asked, a pained sort of look coming into her face. "Where are the Ancients? Where are our people? I can't feel them I here," she finished, putting her hand to her head.

Caerlin looked at her sadly, a faraway look coming into her eyes. "We lost," she said simply, letting the first tears fall across her face as she finally let those words sink in. "Everyone's gone. The Eternians killed them all and burnt the country. I think they salted the ground, too. I'm not sure, the thoughts I read were all confused." Her tears made speaking difficult as more and more began to fall. "We lost," she said, her voice cracking, and she began to sob quietly.

Moria's tears began to mix with hers on the stone floor, and they cradled each other, rocking back and forth slowly. "Shhh," One of them said, it was inconclusive as to whom. "It's all right, we still have each other."

They sat, huddled in each other's arms, for a very, very long time.

Eventually, Moria wiped away her own and her sister's tears, and smiled. "So… what really happened?" she asked, touching her sister's side tenderly.

"Hmm?" Caerlin asked. "Oh, that. An arrow." Moria ran her hand across the wound and trailed her fingers around her sister's side to rest upon Caerlin's front. She lightly traced her finger around the edge of the wound.

Caerlin fought to keep a straight face, not wanting to tell her sister to stop. After a moment or two, she winded out of Moria's grasp. "Quit it," she said, breaking into giggles. "That tickles!"

As if on cue, Moria moved her hand away from the wound and instead concentrated on the rest of her sister's midriff. She danced her fingers across Caerlin's belly slowly.

The elder sister's giggles increased as she collapsed onto the floor, rolling to try to get away (but not really.)

Moria draped herself lengthways across her sister, effectively pinning her, making it impossible for the older sister to move.

"Uh-oh," Caerlin laughed as she looked into the devastatingly beautiful blue eyes of the woman she loved.

A wicked grin came across the younger woman's face, and she began to tickle her older sister ferociously, rolling with her all the way across the cave floor, filling the caverns with their laughter.

After a time, they stopped, breathing raggedly and smiling at one another. Caerlin had rolled on top of her sister, and she smiled down at Moria, still laughing, without a care in the world.

It was some time later when they disentangled from one another. The light was quickly fading, and they still needed to cross the mountains before they would get home. They had waited until nightfall, aware that they were most likely being followed. In the dark, it would be difficult for their trackers to follow their path.

They traveled throughout he night, and at dawn, they stopped again. They discovered the hollowed insides of a dead tree that would do for them to spend the day in. Before settling in for the day, Caerlin searched the surrounding area for fruit or berries.

She was gone for a long while, as the pickings in that particular area were slim. She finally found a bush full of edible fruit, but also covered in thorns. She gathered them carefully in a torn portion of her garment, using it as a basket. As Caerlin rounded the side of the bush, she tripped upon a protruding root cluster and lost her balance. She grabbed hold of the closest thing she could grab: the bush. The Dereskian Queen fell inside the bush, the thorns grabbing at her hair and tearing the remainder of her clothing.

Caerlin winced as fresh cuts opened up in her skin, but she did not scream. As carefully as possible, she got out of the bush and untangled her hair from its branches. Feeling around her face and arms, as well as her stomach and scalp, she realized that she was covered in scratches, some deep and some not. They were all over her, on her lower legs and thighs, on her stomach and breasts, on her back and on her neck. They had even penetrated her hair and left deep and shallow scratches on her scalp. Spots of blood began to form on the tattered remains of her clothing. She healed the worst ones, and left the others open. They would heal in time, and she did not want to lose all of her strength by performing a body-healing spell.

Recovering her makeshift basket from where she had dropped it, Caerlin decided she had picked enough berries for now.

She went back to the tree as quickly as her wounds allowed, placing the berries outside the tree and then entering the small hole. Her eyes whirled with shock, and she ran out, circling the tree and the immediate area. Moria was nowhere in sight.

Chapter Eleven: The Borderline Fades

Part Four

The Dereskian Queen looked frantically around the area for any clues that might lead to her sister's whereabouts. She looked down upon the ground and noticed a pair of footprints she hadn't seen upon entering. The footprints were large, square, and ill placed, too much so to belong to either of their graceful strides.

She followed them and noticed that they came from the east, and led towards the north. The footprints leading toward the tree were deep but not overly so, and the spacing indicated a long stride, probably a man's. The footsteps leading away from the tree were deeper, which Caerlin could not understand. She looked around the ground again, and realized she could not find any of her sister's prints. The man had been carrying her, which explained the depth of his footprints.

Without a moment's hesitation, Caerlin quickly ran north, following the footprints and the path that they led to.

…………………..

Moria was dumped onto the ground thoughtlessly. The sudden pain jolted her out of unconsciousness. She looked around, putting a hand on her head to relieve a sudden throbbing headache. She did not recognize where she was. The last thing she remembered was sitting in the tree, waiting for Caerlin to come back with food. Caerlin! The thought of her sister made Moria sit up and look for her. Her elder sister was nowhere to be seen. Instead, directly in front of her was a man she had seen before. Now, what had Caerlin called him in the dungeon? …Mindor, Captain Mindor, if she remembered correctly.

She shakily tried to get to her feet, but a spasm of pain shot up her left calf. She crumpled onto the ground. She whirled around as a sudden burst of laughter erupted from the Eternian. She paid him no mind, instead studying her leg. In addition to being knocked unconscious, it seemed her kidnapper had also sliced her leg from calf to ankle, cutting a major nerve, which is why had hadn't felt anything until trying to stand. Her entire leg had gone numb.

Moria looked up at her captor as he grinned wickedly down at her. "Moria." he said, drawing out her name and pronouncing it by each syllable slowly. "The one weakness of the mighty Dereskian Queen," he spoke in her own language, smiling wickedly.

Moria smiled sweetly. "Your grasp of the Dereskian pronoun is admirable, Captain Mindor. But your accent is atrocious," her eyes whirled, and had Mindor known what that was usually an indication of, he surely would have quivered. As it was, he was mildly confused.

The younger sister of the Dereskian Queen laughed softly. "So, Captain Mindor. Here you have me, crippled and quite beyond posing any threat, far out of the reach of my sister. What is your next step? What does the Eternian rulebook say you should do next? You're so clever, to have gotten me here all to yourself. Do be a good boy and lift this all- consuming veil of secrecy."

Mindor's hand snaked out and grabbed the Dereskian by the throat. "Do not push me! You know very well I'm going to kill you, so unless you truly do not value your life, I would advise you to not push me!"

Moria's face was the epitome of calm. She smiled softly, having a little trouble breathing but not letting it show. "Why?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. "You're going to kill me anyway, you said so yourself. What does it matter what I say to you?"

He lifted her up off the ground, raising her to eye level and higher, until her feet, which would not have been able to support her anyway, could no longer touch the ground. She was slammed hard into the side of a tree. Grinning, Mindor let her fall.

She dropped to the ground like a sack of flour, collapsing into a pile, her wounded leg falling beneath her. She winced as her position sent another burst of pain shooting up her calf. Breathing heavily, Moria looked with hooded eyes at her captor, who was smiling above her. He reached beneath his cloak at his side and removed the large battle-ax that hung there. The ax was a double-bladed, heavy monstrosity made of solid steel with a cast iron handle. The handle was engraved with the words of an Eternian battle poem and unfinished carvings of the Eternian war captains of history.

Moria looked up at the weapon, repulsed by its crudity and sheer ugliness.

"Like it?" Mindor asked her, testing the blade with his thumb. "It's an heirloom. It's been past down from father to son in my family for generations. Never served me wrong yet."

"Evidently," Moria spat, her eyes showing nothing but raw hatred. "You're still alive, which is a wonder if that unfinished piece of vulgarity is what you used against my people. Tell me, captain: how many of the Dereskïgiä fell to that makeshift heap of metal?"

The Eternian's eyes burned. "Not enough!" he screamed, bringing the weapon down in a swift stroke. Moria tucked in her shoulders and rolled, bringing herself out of the way of the weapon and close to Mindor's side. As he struggled to remove his blade from the root system of the tree, she reached behind him and grasped the sword that lay in the scabbard at his back.

This then, was a true weapon, she decided. Definitely Dereskian made, probably taken from the dead body of one of the soldiers before he ordered his men to burn everything down. She sliced his leg as he finally freed his weapon, causing him to buckle. She had not sliced the skin deep enough to hit the nerve, so he got to his feet after a moment.

Mindor whirled, wielding the battle-ax like some deranged form of primitive man. His teeth clenched together in concentration as he swung again.

Moria blocked his attack with her sword, using the force behind his blow to pivot on her knees, swinging the sword around to cut into his upper calves. He groaned in pain, using his free hand to clutch at his legs while his battle-ax came down at her in a sidestroke.

She reached up with her free hand, latching onto his arm and again used his own momentum against him. She swung her arms sideways, causing herself to basically springboard into the air, while simultaneously making him fall flat on his face. She landed on top of him, digging her knees into his back while dragging the very tip of her sword blade along the base of his neck. She barely drew blood, only letting him realize how easy it would be for her to kill him, even weakened as she was.

"Care to give up now, Captain Mindor?" she asked in the kindest tone possible.

He struggled beneath her like a wounded bear, yelling "Never!" he twisted beneath her, rolling Moria off of his back and bringing his ax around for another swing.

Moria had fallen and landed on her back, her arms splayed out like some strange sort of sacrifice. The sword had fallen from her grasp. She saw it lying on the ground not too far away. She reached out her hand for it, as a large foot came crashing down upon the hilt.

Mindor sent his battle-ax down, using both hands to grip the handle. Moria twisted at the last possible moment, rolling down out of the way and falling towards the south.

She ran into the tree, a root system slamming her hard in her chest. She looked up through half-lidded eyes as she tried to regain her breath. Her face was turned southward, and she thought for a moment she could just see moon-colored hair in the distance, coming closer.

She squinted her eyes, and didn't hear Mindor come up behind her. "Caerlin," she whispered, reaching out a hand to the distant form of her sister.

"Will never get to you in time," the Eternian finished behind her, and swung his ax in a side swoop. Moria heard his words, and felt the air move as he swung his battle-ax.

She closed her eyes and emptied herself of emotion, as Caerlin had taught her. The battle-ax hit with a loud clunk, but it did not hit her. She had vanished and appeared on the other side of the tree.

Mindor swore and blasphemed all the gods as he tried to pull his weapon out of the tree. Leaning against said tree, Moria waved, smiling as her sister climbed the small hill.

Caerlin felt a small breath of relief escape her. Moria was still alive. She did not slow her pace, but she saw her sister wave and she waved back, smiling as well.

She saw Mindor pull his ax out of the tree, and, in the process, dislodge a heavy system of roots, which the tree used for support. With these roots gone, the tree began to slowly sway. The Eternian realized what was happening and pushed against the tree with all his weight, hacking at the remainder of its roots with his ax.

Caerlin watched in horror as, almost instantly, the tree began to topple. Moria did not realize what was happening until it was too late.

When the dust and dirt had cleared, the tree had fallen, and, beneath it, laid the crumpled form of the only other living Dereskian.

Caerlin was still for a moment, her eyes wide and her mouth open in horror.

"Moria!" she screamed at last, running towards the fallen form of her sister. The tree had only fallen upon her lower half. By some miracle, her younger sister had twisted at the last minute, freeing her face and torso from imprisonment.

"Caerlin," she gasped as her sister knelt down before her.

Her elder sister put her hands to her sister's lips. "Shh," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "Don't try to talk. Save your strength."

"Caerlin." Moria continued, looking beyond her sister. "B- behind you," she said with as much urgency as she could muster.

Caerlin turned as she felt the shadow of Mindor come over her. Before he could even raise his battle-ax, a strange sort of black fire had welled in the elder sister's eyes, and she kicked the feet of the Eternian out from under him. As he fell, she took the battle-ax from his hands and used it to slice a great gash in the side of the captain. She kicked his limp but still conscious form down the hill with her foot, disgusted. Caerlin practically threw the battle-ax away and ran back to her sister's side.

"Is-is he dead?" Moria asked, finding breathing difficult.

Caerlin shook her head. "No, he'll live." Her sister began to cough as her squeezed lungs fought for breath. "And you'll live, too." She said, the tears slowly falling down her face and onto her sister's.

Moria shook her head, smiling sadly at her sister. "No..." she said simply. "The R-red moon calls… and I must answer."

"No," Caerlin said, finding it hard to breath herself. "No, Moria. You can't leave me. I won't let you." She looked down into her sister's eyes. "I love you."

Moria lifted her hand to caress her sister's face. "I know you do… Caerlin." she said, her eyes beginning to cloud over. "L-let me...go."

Her elder sister shook her head. "I can't." Moria moved her hand to the back of Caerlin's head, pulling her sister closer weakly.

Their kiss was slow, intermingled with tears, and Moria pulled away first. "I love you," she said softly, wiping her sister's tears as fresh one's took their place.

"Don't leave me," Caerlin whispered, holding her sister close.

"I won't." Moria said softly. "Wait for me?" she said, smiling softly as her own tears fell.

Caerlin nodded softly, "Of course I will. I always will."

Moria lay in her sister's arms as she slowly fell away from the world. "My waking hope...my…sleeping dream." she said softly, smiling sadly up at her sister.

Caerlin cradled her sister's body in her arms long after the last breath had been drawn. She used her Majicks to free Moria's body from the tree that pinned it.

"Well, well. Queen Caerlin," came an obnoxious voice from behind her. "You know, when the new Sorceress told me that your sister was your only weakness, I really didn't believe her. But I do now."

The Dereskian was silent. She set her sister's body aside reverently, and kissed her hands. This clearly was not acceptable with Mindor. He had recovered his battle-ax from where it had been dropped, and now raised it. "Nothing to say, eh? A pity. I had hoped the legendary Dereskian Queen Caerlin would fight back, or at least say something. Ah well." He brought the weapon down to strike the Dereskian in the back. The Queen whirled, grabbing Mindor's wrist and the battle-ax within it. She pulled and shook the ax from his hand, while also kicking him in the shins.

"Ah!" said Mindor. "Now there's the famed Dereskian Queen Caerlin!" he struggled to get up, but found he could not move. He looked, panicked into his assailant's eyes, and saw them pinwheel and turn black in color.

She brought the ax down upon him, and, just before it struck, she looked him in the eyes and spoke. Her voice chilled his blood, and her words echoed in his ears even after his head had been removed from his body. "My name is Moria."

For the next hundred and fifty years, the name of the Dereskian Queen became a curse to the Eternian people. She continuously entered the towns and cites, killing anyone that got in her path. She made several visits to Castle Grayskull, talking, but never anything more, to Teelina. So frequent were her visits that the Sorceress eventually stopped having people call her 'Zoar' altogether. It became too confusing to have two names to be called by.

As for the Dereskian Queen, she was no longer referred to as 'Caerlin.' When the Eternians spoke her name at all, (which was seldom, for they believed it to be a curse to call The Dereskian Queen by anything other than her title,) they spoke only of "Lady Moria." Caerlin had died along with her sister. After two hundred years or so, the attacks suddenly stopped for absolutely no reason. In time, the truth of the Dereskian Queen and the Great War became only history, and then legend, and then mere myth. The tale of Lady Moria became nothing more than a story to frighten young children with. Despite popular belief, the queen kept her promise to her sister, and she waited. She gave birth to the daughter of a faceless man, one who had no DNA and could therefore have a child that was a full-blooded Dereskian. She left the child with him, to be raised, while she was forced to continue on with her duties to her people

Within the ruins of the Dereskian lands, lands that were once green and flourishing had become so gray and sandy as to be renamed 'The Sands of Time,' the Dereskian Queen lived on, writing in the sacred books, which, after all, had been kept in the secret chambers below the capital and not in Elënuial. In time, she would finish, and emerge. Until then, she would simply remain the phantom ghost used to get unruly children into their beds.

Qui anar anné wend isil, kan celeb elen fern il kith, otë recam hindë seden emyn, rot mantë re athar. Súl, mez cáno; kemen, mez deen; mez seunda, alda. Tathar wëe il duin kai, we meyone ki't athar. Ki hach urë t' il andúne. Lidor li we nesurë derem .Li mae ur kan li anonë. Lidor li we nekhil rem, Ne yuthë gui ki nänd. Ki hauch urë t'il andúne. Ki hauch urë t'il andúne.

Epilogue

The Overlord of Evil thundered in his rage alone in his throne room. After the most recent attack on Castle Grayskull, which had, as always, failed, his cohorts had wisely decided to give their master some time to himself.

They sat in one of the many caverns of Snake Mountain, far enough away from their master to escape his rage, but close enough to hear his screams echo from the walls. There were six of Skeletor's minions present today. Beast-man, Tri-klops, Clawful, Trap-jaw, and Whiplash all sat in the room, talking amongst themselves. Evil-Lyn sat in a corner by herself, tapping her crystal ball and watching the images change. After a time she paused, and a small sigh escaped her lips. She was bored.

She heard the others laughing not far away, and rolled her eyes. Men, she thought sarcastically. Now what could they possibly find entertaining?

Deciding she had nothing better to do, she rose from the rock she had been sitting on and walked over to the others.

"Oh yeah?" Beast-man was saying. "You know what I heard? I heard that she took three guys' heads off with one slice of an ax, then used the same ax to skin them before the wounds stopped bleeding."

Tri-klops noticed Evil-Lyn's approach, and he scooted over to make room for her. "We're talking about a possible new recruit," he told her. "Apparently some woman sent Skeletor a message the other day, saying she wanted to join up."

Evil-Lyn's head turned towards the others. "And which of you heard this interaction take place?"

Clawful rose one of his namesakes "Duh, I did, Evil-Lyn. I was in the room when he got it."

"I see," Evil-Lyn said. Well, if it was Clawful who had started this conversation then it probably had some basis in fact. That one was too stupid to make up something very original.

"Well, then, Clawful," she said in the slightly sarcastic tone that was her trademark. "Did this woman have a name?"

"Duh, Oh yeah. She said her name was 'The Darkwoman,'" Clawful said, pleased that Evil-Lyn was talking to him. She very rarely did, for some odd reason that he didn't understand. He just figured she was thrown off by his fearsome look. Unfortunately, he was too idiotic to realize she was actually thrown off by his stupidity.

Evil-Lyn turned back to Beast-man. "And you've…heard …of this woman?"

Beast-man snarled. "We all have. Apparently there's lots of stories going around about her," he said, giving her a haven't-you-heard- anything look.

"I heard she might even be related to the Dereskian Queen. Apparently her coloring is the same," Tri-klops said, breaking the ice between Beast-man and Evil-Lyn. Those two never had liked each other all that much.

"Really?" Trap-jaw asked. "You mean she has the white hair and those freaky purple eyes?"

Tri-klops was about to answer, when an 'ahem' sound came from Evil-Lyn. Everyone looked over to her, and her 'freaky purple eyes' flashed and whirled.

"Ummm, sorry," Trap-jaw said quickly. "I didn't mean any offense, Evil-Lyn."

The only woman in the room shook her head disdainfully. "I've wasted enough time listening to you all drabble on about some woman who may or may not join us." She stood up and left the room, heading back towards the now-silent throne room.

Skeletor was sitting in his chair, conversing with a hooded figure completely hidden from view. When he noticed her entrance, Skeletor sat up in his chair.

"Ah. Evil-Lyn," he said. "Do come in. Allow me to introduce you to the Darkwoman." The hooded figure turned toward the young woman, and if either of them heard the small intake of breath that came from beneath the dark hood, they didn't show it. She bowed her head in recognition, not saying a word. "Are the others behind you?" Skeletor asked in his oddly pitched voice.

The young woman was slightly thrown off by the hooded woman. She nodded her head back, and then answered. "No," Evil-Lyn said, crossing her arms with her staff clutched to her chest. "Would you like me to go get them?"

"Yes," Skeletor said simply, and his second in command turned to go.

The Darkwoman smiled beneath her hood. "Is it not customary to say 'please' when asking someone to do something, Lord Skeletor?" Her voice sounded oddly distorted, but was nevertheless distinctly feminine and held its own level of command.

Evil-Lyn paused and turned around, with the odd feeling that she had heard the voice that came from the shrouded figure somewhere before. She looked deep into the recesses of the cloak, and thought for the briefest moment she could see the faint glimmer of amethyst eyes.

"Not usually," Skeletor answered, breaking the momentary silence. "We tend not to follow proper etiquette in Snake Mountain. I find it takes up time." He emphasized the last word while looking at Evil-Lyn, a faint red glow coming into the place where his eyes should have been.

She took the hint and went off to get the others.

When she had gone, the Darkwoman continued. "Saying one additional word takes up time, my Lord?" her voice contained a slightly amused hitch, which was not lost upon Skeletor. "I find that unlikely."

"Then let me just say that we have no use for etiquette here, Darkwoman," his voice grew to the dangerous tone that his cohorts knew so well.

The hooded woman gave no indication of fear. She smiled, and Skeletor could tell, even with the hood covering her face. "It has been my experience that everyone has a use for good manners, Skeletor. Even a self-titled 'Overlord of Evil.'"

The man in question's eye sockets began to redden even more. "You are walking on thin ice, Darkwoman. Take care you do not fall in, or you might not find anyone who will be willing to aid you."

She bowed slightly. "Touché."

Evil-Lyn entered with the others then, and a handful of gasps filled the room when they beheld the robbed figure. "Boys," Evil-Lyn said, "This is the Darkwoman. Madame, may I present to you: the idiots."

A small laugh arose from both Skeletor and the hooded figure as Evil-Lyn received glares and growls from the men in question.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, gentleman," the Darkwoman said, nodding her head.

The others looked quite stupefied.

"Yeah...okay."

"Gee, thanks."

"You, too."

"Pleasure's all mi-"

"Uh…sure."

The replies filtered out of their mouths, and no one really knew (or cared) which had come from which.

Skeletor looked pointedly at the cloaked woman. "See what I mean?"

She nodded, the cloak billowing around her movement.

"Good," Skeletor said, and then addressed his minions. "The Darkwoman wishes to join us. I've told her that she'll have to hold her own against you all. Do you think you can manage?" They nodded in unison. "Good," he continued. "Evil-Lyn, come here." She approached and stood in her customary place beside the throne. "You will stay and watch, and will fight only if she beats the others. Understand?"

The young woman smiled. "Of course, Skeletor," she answered, smiling up at him in her sweet, deliciously evil fashion.

Skeletor did his own version of a smile as the Darkwoman walked out to the center of the floor. "I'm ready," she said, gesturing to the others. "Are you?"

"Don't you have any weapons?" Beast-man asked, about to move forward.

"Weapons?" the Darkwoman asked, slightly bemused. "Oh," she said, is if having forgotten something. "Of course." She moved the long sleeves or her robe down her arms as mid-sized balls of amethyst light appeared in each of her palms. The spheres elongated, finally forming two tangible and very lethal-looking katana-like swords. The sleeve of her robe slid over the length of the sword. "Oh, this silly thing," she said, putting both her swords in one hand. "Just a moment."

She used her free hand to remove the mid sections of her robe in a single fluid motion, leaving the hood and a cape-like piece at the back. Beneath that, she wore a sleek, extremely long silver and back gown, with slits up the side to allow free movement. The top was tight but not overly so, and one arm was entirely cased in black material, with a ring of fabric around the middle finger. The other arm was completely bare as the dress ended at her shoulder. From her bodice up, the dress was little more than spider webbed black lace, beginning at the tops of her breasts and continuing all the way up to form a black circlet around her neck. Her boots were slender but sensible, going all the way up to the knee with black and silver crisscrossed laces running up the sides. The entire ensemble was very appealing.

"I'm prepared," she said, an amused tone to her voice as she switched her sword back to her hand.

"Whoa," said Trap-jaw and Beast-man together.

"Nice get-up," the latter said, walking forward.

The Darkwoman whirled her swords in her hands. "Thank you. I' rather fond of it." As Beast-man walked forward, she laughed softly. "Only one? You've got to be kidding."

"Trap-jaw!" Skeletor said, "Go humor her."

The minion in question stepped forward. "You got it, boss." He charged the hooded woman, Beast-man joining in as they sped toward her.

"Now that's more like it," she said, jumping into the air and using the blunt ends of her swords to knock both men on the ground as they past by. Beast-man didn't move, but Trap-jaw arose and charged her again. This time, she whirled to the side and brought both dull sides of her blades down upon the back of the minion's metal skull. He went down will a dull clang.

The Darkwoman looked amusedly back towards the throne. "Next?" she asked, laughing slightly.

At Skeletor's command, the remaining three men ran towards her. Clawful went down first as she jumped over his head and landed on his back, winding him rather effectively. Next was Whiplash, who tried to use his tail to whack the swords out of her hands. She let him wrap his tail around them, and then flipped the swords in her hands, used his own momentum to swing him up into the air and land on top of Trap-Jaw. A blast from Tri- Klops' beam sent her sprawling, but she was up in a flash. Tri-Klops had not rushed forward with the others, he had stayed behind, climbing up into the many caverns and gaining the high ground.

She located where the blasts were coming from and smiled beneath her hood. The Darkwoman walked calmly over to the nearest wall, avoiding the blasts almost happily. She reached out her hand, sword and all, to the wall, and it passed through in a flash of amethyst light. The rest of her went through, and she completely disappeared. Tri-Klops looked around for his target, but could not find her. She appeared out of the wall beside him, kicking him from behind and sending him sprawling onto the floor.

She jumped down from the cavern, tucking in her arms and landing gracefully on her feet. Tri-Klops had not fared so well, as he had fallen upon the crumpled from of Beast-man. None of them were moving.

Had Skeletor still possessed his eyes, they would have widened at the sight of this hooded woman defeating his best troops without so much as breaking into a sweat. He looked at his side, and smiled. Well, maybe not his best troops. He looked toward Evil-Lyn and gestured for her to go forward. Let's see how the Darkwoman did against the Dark Mistress of the Mountain.

Evil-Lyn walked forward slowly, and raised her magic staff, the ball on the end glowing brightly. The Darkwoman saw her, raised her hands with the swords in them, and let them turn once more into balls of light, which then went back into her hands.

"I will not fight you, young woman," she said softly. If one were listening carefully, one would have heard a slight pained tone to the Darkwoman's voice.

The younger woman's eyes quivered almost angrily. "My name is Evil-Lyn, and why not?"

The Darkwoman stepped closer to the young spellcaster. "I am aware of what your name is, little one. But it is not Evil-Lyn."

From his seat upon the throne, Skeletor watched the proceedings with interest. It seemed this was going to be entertaining after all.

He watched as his second-in-command's eyes grew pupil-less in her anger, and a bolt of amethyst light erupted from her staff.

The Darkwoman merely raised one of her hands, and the beam hit a force field, causing silver light to dance around the room.

"Impressive," the spellcaster said, bringing her staff up to fire another blow.

The elder woman jumped out of the way and used her Majicks to springboard into the air. The bolt of light passed harmlessly by.

"I will not fight you!" she said loudly, somersaulting in midair and landing elegantly on her feet.

Evil-Lyn ignored her, firing a more powerful blast from her staff. The elder woman raised another shield, one that was stronger than the last and engulfed the beam, adding it to the Darkwoman's power.

The younger woman expecting something of the sort, and ran to the Darkwoman, using her staff to knock the elder woman's feet out from under her.

The elder woman fell to the ground and felt the spellcaster's hand remove the hood from her head.

Her extremely long, moon-colored hair tumbled forth and cascaded around her body. She felt the staff digging into her back. The older woman twisted her hand around, grabbed the end of the staff, coiled beneath it, and whirled up into the air, landing, nearly breathless, on her feet.

Evil-Lyn, breathing hard as well, swung her staff around and aimed a blow directly into the elder woman's head.

"Moritënia! Kin' neintë de scironïa!" she said, opening her eyes and watching as the young woman froze in her tracks.

The violet eyes of the younger woman stared into the brilliant amethyst eyes of the Darkwoman. Evil-Lyn heard the elder woman's words echoing in her head and subconsciously translated them. \Moritënia, I will not fight you. \

Skeletor sat up in his chair as he heard those words. He had heard that language before, and struggled to place where.

The younger woman's heart began to beat faster in her chest. "By what name do you call me?" she asked, unaware that she was speaking in a language other than Eternian.

"Wëe lin entë. Moritënia, Deänia de Moria, il Morifania deia il Dereskïgiä," The older woman replied, the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes.

Once again, the translation echoed in the younger woman's mind. \By your own. Moritënia, Daughter of Moria, the Dereskian Queen of legend.\

"Quiseque onia li dia?" Evil-Lyn asked, aware that she was speaking in a language she had never known she knew. \Who are you, that knows my birth name? \

The older woman faltered. Tears began to run slowly down her face. "Mez cantië Moria, Morifania deia il Dereskïgiä," she said softly in her native tongue, letting the tears fall onto the ground.

Moritënia, for that was her birth name, felt her eyes widen in shock. She swallowed visibly, placing her hands at her sides. The older woman's words echoed in her mind, and would not fade. \My name is Moria, the Dereskian Queen. \

The younger woman's eyes widened and then closed as their owner spoke in Eternian. "Skeletor," she said softly. "I cannot fight this woman."

The Overlord of Evil growled angrily, "Why not, Evil-Lyn?"

The young spellcaster opened her eyes and locked them with those of the woman before her.

"Because," Evil-Lyn answered softly, "she's my mother."