Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own anything other than the plot.

Warnings: I'd like to say sex, blood, violence and gore, but there's none really.

/.../ refers to thoughts, though I don't use this often at all.

Chapter 1

... For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?

Macbeth, by Shakespeare

The boy was spirited, he'd give him that much. It had been nearly two days since the boy was captured, and still he struggled-when he was conscious, of course. The watcher tightened his wrinkled old hands on his staff. Perhaps he should tell the boy's captors to be more gentle?

He seriously considered the thought-after all, it would not do for the boy to be... permanently damaged... But no- better, perhaps, that the boy suffer and rage against his captors-it would suit his plans better.

For the thousandth time, Raziel cursed his captors. Truthfully, it was the only way he could show his defiance. While there were no restraints on his legs, they had blindfolded him and bound his arms together behind him. with his vision thus impaired, he stumbled and fell often. Only the rough hand clutching the back of his shirt had saved him from falling on his face as his foot was caught by a tree root this time.

It was hard to keep up with them, and the only reason he even considered doing so was the sharp whip one of his captors would apply to his back whenever he started to slow. He already had several welts on his back from that whip-more than once, they had beaten him to unconsciousness with it.

He was in pain. The rough treatment the wound on his left leg had received did little for the pain, and his captors had been running for what had to be at least a day. For most part, he had had to run along with them. He could tell that they were already farther away from his town than he had ever been. The sound of the river that flowed by his town and into the forest had been with them for a greater part of the run, but now it was gone. It had been replaced by the sound of bats and the occasional song of a thrush.

Raziel stumbled once more, and this time, the hand at his back was unable to prevent him from falling. He fell, and hit his head hard upon a rock.

It was quiet, almost too quiet. There were no sounds save the faint, far-away call of a lark, and the closer chirp of a warbler.

Raziel wondered what had happened to his captors in the time that he had been unconscious. Where had they gone? For that matter, where was he? The birdsong and the heavy perfume of the woodland flowers told him that he was still in the forest, but gave no clue as to how far away he was from his town. He gingerly tried to move his leg, and winced as flash of pain shot through him.

A sudden rustling behind him-

He tensed, knowing and hating the fact that he was easy prey.

"Well boy, you certainly look like you need help." the voice was concerned and gentle, and Raziel felt his muscles relax. "Come, let me help you."

A sound as if an object had been set aside, and hands touched his blindfold. They quickly untied it, and just as quickly set to work on the bindings on his arms. He turned to look at his benefactor, and saw an old man. He was bald and his eyes were a strange blind-white. A staff lay near him, nestled beside a fallen, moss-covered tree trunk.

"Thank you... thank you, oh god, thank you!" Raziel's voice was heartfelt as he thanked the old man. "How can I ever repay you!"

'Tch... boy, I could hardly leave anyone bound in such a manner! Tell me, how did you end up in such a state?"

At first, the boy was unsure what exactly had awakened him. Nothing seemed amiss in his darkened chamber, and the autumn night was silent save the buzz of the cicadas and the call of night-birds. Nothing that was at all out of place in a village near a forest. A cool breeze wafted through the open window.

/Wait... breeze? Open window/

Raziel leapt out of bed, slender body immediately moving into a defensive position. Just in time, for as soon as his body assumed the stance, an assailant had aimed a kick at his side. He blocked the kick and retaliated with a punch that, he realized too late, had left his leg open to the knife that suddenly appeared on his left. He desperately tried to avoid it, but was only partially successful. Instead of puncturing his leg, it ripped a wound from his left hip almost to his knee.

He fell to the to his knees in front of a third assailant who punched him right beneath the chest.

Raziel felt his breath wheeze out of his lungs as he fell to the floor, winded and in pain. Two of them held him immobile as the third blindfolded and bound him. There came a sharp blow to his head and he fell into unconsciousness.

When he awoke once more, he was forced to run.

"I do not remember how long it is they forced me to run. All I know is that they whipped me to force me to run and carried me whenever I finally fell unconscious." As Raziel ended his tale, he glanced up at the old man as if gauging his reaction. "Did you happen to see who my captors were?"

"No boy-wait, what is your name?"

"I am called Raziel, son of Rahvin of Teide."

"Ahh, truly now? ...Well, Raziel of Teide, I did not see your captors. You were alone, when I found you. Tell me, do you think you could find the way back to your village? If you do not, I can lead you there."

Raziel hesitated, looking around him in consternation. This part of the forest was completely unfamiliar to him, yet he had no wish to impose even more that he already had..

As if sensing the cause of his hesitation, the old man spoke again, this time with a hint of amusement and a smile on his lips. "Or perhaps you would rather accompany a frail old man to Teide? I am, after all, on my way there to visit my old friend Rahvin."

Raziel visibly started and stared at the old man.

"Rahvin! You know my father?"

"Yes, your father was once a great warrior among the Sarafan, and a brilliant strategist. I must admit that i have need of his council."

"My father!"

The smile turned wry. "I suppose I should not be surprised that he tries to distance himself from his Sarafan past. We did not part on good terms, after all, and his inexplicable liking for vampires..." he mused, almost half to himself.

Raziel stared at the old man, perplexed. "Forgive me if I sound rude, but who in hell are you?"

A chuckle, and then; "I, my boy? I am the Time Streamer Moebius."

Authors's notes:

1. This chapter was written in a number of hotel rooms across China on a piece of hotel stationery. Thankfully I could still read my handwriting.

2. Teide and Rahvin... I only played Defiance, but I've read the scripts for everything else and I couldn't find any references so I just made them up. If someone knows where Raziel was from or who his (birth) father is, please let me know so I can make corrections.

3. I don't know if it's because I'm terrible at chess or something but my mac just kicks my ass every time I play it. ARGH. At this rate, my self esteem is quickly being reduced to a thimbleful.