A/N: The last chapter had the affect I wanted it to have: it made you all sad. I've been pretty sad about it too though, even though I've been planning that since the second chapter. As to the question why… I wrote this story to prove a point about black mages, several points. I think I made one very clear with the last one. And I'm sorry if I emotional scarred anyone.

I don't think you guys have noticed that Mr. 114 changed how he refers to himself, he used to call myself 'No.' 114 but now he refers to himself as 'Mr.'. I'm kind of upset no one noticed but that's okay. This story is at the half point, so I hope the ride down is as good as it was up, or something. Please read & Review!

Chapter 8

The forest was dark and forbidding but the mage ventured in. The trees and plants of this forest were all dead, skeletons of branches and roots all dried from the desert heat. The mage made his way through, using his brass staff to push down branches. It was a long time until he found the path. It was slightly yellowed with ill health; he walked down it, his eyes wide with hope of seeing what he had seen in his dreams…

He reached a spilt in the path. There was a tall signpost that resembled a large fanged head of a black mage. It was a little frightening, but it didn't bother the mage, he had seen it before. He walked up to it and read the writing scribbled messily onto the wood.

" - Where there are owls

Where there are no owls - "

The mage thought for a moment, recalling a memory from his dream. He remembered then, nodding as he walked down the path where there were no owls. He came to a large clearing where the dirt had turned to sand where the path disappeared. The mage looked to see if there was somewhere the path continued, but there was none. The mage panicked, he didn't know what to do. He had come so far… where was the village? He knew it was down that path, but this was just a pit of sand.

Crushed, the mage wondered over to a fallen log, to sit and regain himself. This was all so confusing… he knew he was at the right place. Suddenly he jumped back; something strange had hit him. He raised his staff in defense of whatever it was that had just touched him. But there was nothing. Lowing his staff, the mage took a few cautious steps forwards and he hit something. It rippled over the forest in front of him like water rippled. His eyes became wide in amazement and joy; this must be the entrance to the village! Slowly, he raised a gloved hand up and it passed through the barrier, the rest of his body followed and he reached it, he reached the village!

Mr. 114's eyes opened slowly. The bright sunshine was blocked behind wild trees and clouds of mist; it was rather cold under the mist. He looked up through the tangled branches, turned wild by the years exposed to the mist, and up to the clouded sky. He shifted slightly on the ground and rolled over to face 239.

After the previous horror from the day before, the two black mages had been chased away from South Gate. They had ran for hours it seemed, the constant shouted of humans behind them keeping them from stopping. They had made it into a thick forest were the humans wouldn't venture, they left them alone at last believing that the mages would be killed by some wild mist monster in the forest. The two mages had huddled together crying through the night. Mr. 114 had refused to let go of Mr. 239's coat and they had eventually fallen asleep together, without making a fire or finding a proper spot to sleep.

Mr. 239 was lying on his side, facing away from Mr. 114. Mr. 114 lay there still gripping onto Mr. 239 for a while, then he sat up to try and wake his friend. He didn't want to stay in the forest long, he didn't want the humans to return; he wanted to go to the village still. He poked Mr. 239's back, nothing happened, he poked at him again sleepily, Mr. 239 shifted without a sound. After another poke he groaned and moved away from Mr. 114, he seemed sad. Mr. 114 wasn't surprised, he was devastated from yesterday's events, the images still gleamed clear in his head, haunting him.

Mr. 114 stood up from the ground and stretched out his tired body. It was cold; he'd decided that he would make a fire for Mr. 239. Maybe if he was warm he would get up. Mr. 114 wandered around the little clearing picking up any sticks and branches he could find and placed them in a large pile it the middle of the clearing. Mr. 239 listened from his spot on ground, refusing to move or get up.

Finally Mr. 114 had gotten enough wood to burn a fire. He stood over the pile but he didn't light it, he wanted to but, he didn't. Magic seemed to be the reason humans hated them, why they wanted to hurt them, because of their magic. Mr. 114 didn't want to use magic, but he was using it for something good, he was using it to start a small fire to try and make Mr. 239 happy. Humans wouldn't mind if he did that would they…?

"…Don't want to use magic?" Mr. 239 mumbled from his spot on the floor, making Mr. 114 jump. He rolled over to face Mr. 114, his eyes distant and empty, but not the way the other black mages' eyes were empty, he was… sad, and his eyes had drained themselves of emotion, it scarred Mr. 114.

"…Yes, humans hate it when we use magic." Mr. 114 answered, looking away from Mr. 239's eyes.

Mr. 239 gave out a cold little laugh, it was empty too, and sent chills up Mr. 114's spine. "Humans do hate it, they are scarred of it." The depressed mage started bitterly, "But do you know where we got out magic? Or where we came from? They made us. They made us like this, they gave us magic, they tell us to kill people, then they hate us for it, and want to kill us."

Mr. 114 stared at Mr. 239 in mild shock. His stomach flipped as he remember his pushed away memories from the castle, the guards, everything he had awoken to. He closed his eyes in pain as his hands shook, remembering Mr. 57's screams….

"They make us so they can hate us." Mr. 239 finished bitterly, rolling over to face away from the crushed Mr. 114. He was sick of tiptoeing around the subject. He was tired of lying to Mr. 114. He felt he had failed them, both Mr. 114 and Mr. 57, he promised them he would protect them, that they'd make it to that village they say in their dreams… who knew if it actually existed away? Maybe it was just a dream; there couldn't possibly be anywhere bloodstained black mages could belong.

Mr. 114 stood silently next to his abandoned woodpile, the sounds of birds and wind was all that met his ears. Was Mr. 239 right? Were they just creations of hate for humans? It made sense, in a way. He wished Mr. 239 wouldn't go back to being silent; it made him feel alone, the worst feeling as far as he could tell was fear and being lonesome. He went and sat down next to Mr. 239, he didn't say anything, he just wanted to be close to something breathing, something alive.

"…Have.." Mr. 114 started, his voice shaking, "…You ever, killed… anyone…?"

Mr. 239 rolled over a bit, looking up at Mr. 114 through scarred, sad yellow eyes. It was the last thing he expected out of Mr. 114's mouth. He stared for a minute; Mr. 114 stared back, his eyes filling up with depression like Mr. 239's. Finally, Mr. 239 bit his hidden lip and said, "Yes."

Mr. 114 looked away. Feeling tears trying to brake out of him, he whispered back, "I-I have too." He wished he wouldn't have to say anything else but he couldn't leave it like that, "…I didn't mean to, they wanted to kill me… and throw me over the cliff. But… I used magic, and killed one… And I fell down the cliff…"

Mr. 239 stared in amazement, he had guessed that Mr. 114 had killed before coming to him; most mages have, but to admit it? That was something he didn't expect. But he knew he'd have to admit his horrors back, so he started "I lived with some humans. They stole things from people, killed them, they were the worst kind of humans, the kind other humans hate. I was given to them, and once they found out what I could do…."

Mr. 114 stood up and looked away. He knew the rest of the story from there didn't he? Is this what all mages do…?

"And…" Mr. 114 voice shook, "What about Mr. 57?"

Mr. 239 felt sick to his stomach at the sound of his name, he winced and wanted to roll over and stop talking but he couldn't. "I… don't know. He probably didn't remember." Mr. 239 fought back tears, "I found him outside of a ruined city, destroyed by a war… He probably did."

Mr. 114 didn't say anything.

Annoyed, Mr. 239 broke the silence, "Humans are fucking bastards. And we've been slaves to them, just so they could hate us and kill us. It doesn't matter what we do, they'll always hate us." And with that he rolled over, biting his lip, not allowing himself to break and cry.

Mr. 114 stood silent. It seemed too much to take in, although, it wasn't much more than that Mr. 239 told him when they first met. It was just, more honest maybe. He couldn't deny anything Mr. 239 had said; somewhere deep inside him he had known it to be true his entire existence. He couldn't say he understood, but then, did anyone?

When nothing more came from Mr. 239, Mr. 114 wandered away. He wandered from the small clearing and out into the wild forest. He went without thought to where he was going, as long as he knew he the way back. He stepped over large roots and bent under branches and reached the edge of the forest. He peered around, checking for humans, when he found none he wandered into the open plains.

Strong winds where blowing over the wild fields, the clouds and mist above darkened and a soft, light rain came down. Mr. 114 stared up in wonder; he had never seen rain before. It was very light and barely made him wet. He continued to walk on his own, realizing that he had never walked anywhere by himself before.

He came up to a stream of water; he looked at it in mild interest, the water running down the stream at a steady pace, never ending. He walked alongside the stream and reached a small pool of calm water. He decided that he'd have a drink from it. He reached his bandaged hand down towards the water and was amazed to see, another bandaged hand in the water, the same as his. Amazed, he leaned over the water, only to see another black mage do the same. It rippled and swayed with the water, and Mr. 114 realized that it wasn't a real black mage, it was him.

He stared at his reflection; he had never seen himself before. He was exactly like the other type Bs, but he knew that already. His arm was bandaged where the guard had stabbed him; the splint had been pulled out after they came out of the Ice Cavern, now only a loosely tied bandage remained. His white gloved hands where bandaged too, they still hurt sometimes. He was glad that Mr. 239 was good with medicine; the potions had brought down the pain and helped the wounds heal faster. Staring at himself, he noticed a strange brass plate he had forgotten about. It was attached with a chain around his waist and the plate dangled just below his stomach. Mr. 239 had one too, he remembered. Looking away from the water and onto the real thing, he turned it around to see it… there was a picture of a sword coming out of a castle, the castle he came from. And trying to remember what he could about reading, he read the word "Alexandria" engraved into the metal.

Mr. 114 was confused. He heard Mr. 239 say something about that a long time ago, but he couldn't remember now. He headed back to the little clearing, where Mr. 239 was still lying in the same place, clearly still distressed. He looked up when Mr. 114 came in, scarred that it was a human that came in. When he saw Mr. 114 he looked away, in sadness and self-embarrassment. Mr. 114 stood in front of him and tried to look, content.

"What's Alexandria?" He asked, keeping his voice light. Mr. 239 looked up at him from the ground, confused. He wandered why Mr. 114 would ask something like that…

"It's…" He began to explain after a pause. "The place that uses black mages to hurt other humans. The humans that lived there made us, and used us." He tried to not seem bitter, he felt bad for his earlier actions, Mr. 114 didn't need to hear his angry ramblings.

"Oh," Mr. 114 said, still trying to stay content and normal for Mr. 239. He looked at the plate on his stomach; Mr. 239 tilted his head at it and then looked at his. Mr. 114 stared at it for a moment, then pulled at it, doing so pulled at his back so he used his damaged hands to brake the weak chain. Once it broke, Mr. 114 threw it to the side as if it was something disgusting.

Mr. 239 watched. He looked up at Mr. 114, who tried to smile despite the sadness he felt. Mr. 239 noticed though. He looked at the same plate chained to him, ripped it off and threw it away as Mr. 114 had done.

And Mr. 114 could've sworn he saw Mr. 239 smile.

A/N: Another chapter done, nothing much happened but they are getting closer to the Village every day! Which reminds me, if you haven't figured it out on your own I might as well explain the dreams and all.

When I started writing this I wanted the mages to try and go to the black mage village but I didn't know how they'd find out about it. After a few hours of thought I wondered if black mages could talk telepathically like genomes since they were close in design. I decided that they couldn't, but it seemed like a good idea. So I adapted it, and I made it so that black mages can feel/live/see/ the memories of other black mages, thus they dream of the village and mages going there and they follow the clues in their dreams. Genius eh? Anyways, please leave a review!