First of all, no, you may not slap me for this title, anyone.

Second of all, I'm alive! Barely! Its been years, so to all the old hands, welcome back! I hope this chapter makes it well worth the wait! Thanks for the actual publishing of anything new goes to Little Ucchan, who has great talent in the areas of blackmail and bribery, and who spent many many hours with my sorry tail, cracking the whip to get words out of my head and onto the computer.

Third of all: Aeris! You and Ucchan, seriously! And btw, I was trying hard to get this published before the review that you threatened showed up and I finished editing this chapter the exact same time, literally, that your review showed up in my inbox.

I will get your for your obscenely long review. Both of you, and your little dogs, too!

The Casting of Shadows

By Phoenix Cubed

Chapter 13: Its Getting Hot in Here

The rain tapped importantly against the closed window of Cye's room, bringing the Ronin's attentions away from that of sleep and into the business of waking up. Buried beneath three quilts and snug in her latest acquisition: pajamas with swim trunk wearing flounders can-canning on a fluorescent pink background, Cye answered the wake up call slowly and grudgingly. It was early and dark, and she was warm and the bite of the air against her nose told her that the rain had not only driven away the sun, but the heat as well.

The rain gave a particularly hard drum roll against her window. Too bad, it said, you have things to do.

"'Mph," she replied, rolling over to put her back to the rain, "d'not." She shut her eyes to the morning, full intending to sleep in as a kick-off to her spring vacation. There was nothing so important happening right then that she in particular had to get up and attend.

The window bumped and rattled as a hard gust of wind and a burst of hail slammed against the glass. The rain, it seemed, disagreed with her.

She ignored it.

FLASH!

CRASH! KA-BOOM!

"Yip!" The lightning was bright and very close, and the ensuing thunder was the immediate and deafening counterpart. "Bloody!" She swore, "all right! I'm up!

The rain pattered smugly upon the window, satisfied.

"Yeah? Well, g'morning to you too, psycho weather," Cye yawned and began pushing the covers back from her body, trying hard to ignore the fact that she'd just had a conversation with a thunderstorm. Instead she focused on what possibly could be wrong that needed her attention right there and then. She glanced at the clock: fifteen to seven. The only ones in the house that might be up before seven during vacation weeks were Sage and Ryo, but with the rainstorm outside, she doubted even they would find the motivation to leave their beds for at least another hour. Heavy weather like this leadened Sage's senses and he probably wouldn't even realize he was sleeping in, and Ryo and White Blaze didn't particularly like rain; they'd sleep in, too.

Mia could take care of herself; there was nothing cooking or soaking overnight; Kento was snoring like a chainsaw in the room next door, Rowen was—

Cye's stomach clenched. Rowen was watching Ivory, like he had the night before, and the night before that.

The rain began tapping a little harder. Things to do. Things to do.

A small worm named Guilt began to wind its way through Cye's gut as the Ronin finished making her bed and padded to her closet. She hadn't taken any shifts to watch Ivory in several days; in fact, outside of tending to her wounds when the Phoenix had first arrived at the house and cooking dinner last night, Cye hadn't done much of anything. The worm moved to her chest, making the cinnamon haired girl squirm in discomfort. Well, she'd erased the Phoenix's memories and possibly any access the creature had had to what remained of her powers. The Phoenix—Ivory, Cye amended suddenly, that poor broken child down the hall didn't have the strength to hold up such a name right now—had slept mostly since her arrival, and had eaten just once. It would probably be prudent of Cye, since she was the main one responsible for the mental fix Ivory was in, to go check on the girl while everyone else slept in.

Since she obviously wasn't getting anymore sleep that morning.

The storm pittered agreeably.

"Why don't you go rain somewhere useful," she muttered, chucking off her pajamas and throwing on a t-shirt, a sweater and a loose pair of jeans, "like the Sahara."

Grabbing a second set of clothes from her dresser, Cye resolutely exited her room and made her way down the long hall to the guestroom where the Ronins were stowing the Phoenix. Outside the door, Cye paused with her hand on the doorknob, and took a deep breath then let it out slowly. Here goes nothing. She opened the door.

And promptly closed it again. "Hoowee, that stinks," she gasped, catching a whiff of the stench of overripe bandages and unwashed bodies that washed through the doorway. "I think we'll start this day out with a bath." Bracing herself, Cye opened the door for round two.

The guestroom was surprisingly dark for midmorning. The dark rain clouds outside kept away the sun that normally lit up the spacious room, replacing its normally bright and cheery atmosphere with something darker, more mysterious. Shadows hung like thick, opaque drapes in the corners of the room, waiting in silence for their chance to draw across the floor and choke off the remaining light. Such that the room was, it took a few moments for Cye's eyes to adjust to the absence of light. As her pupils widened in accordance to the predominating shades, her heart gave a sudden leap of fear.

Ivory was not in the bed.

Rowen slept in an awkward position on a straight-backed chair by the bed, his arms draped over the headboard of the chair and his chin digging into the backs of his hands. There were deep black bags under his eyes, and Cye wondered just exactly how much sleep he had gotten the last few nights. At his feet, White Blaze breathed deeply in and out, signaling a sleep as genuine as his human counterpart.

But the mattress where Ivory was supposed to be sleeping right along with them was empty. The sheets and quilts and had been pushed to the foot of the bed in a quasi-neat bundle; Cye bit her lip as she noticed the dried stains of blood against the once white sheets. They didn't look fresh, meaning they were probably from her initial arrival. So where had the little bird flown to?

A movement near the window caught Cye's attention and dragged her eyes away from the offending scene of the empty bed. In the corner of the room, half hidden by the lack of light, was Ivory. She kneeled awkwardly on the back of the couch that was pushed against the far wall, her bandaged forearms braced against the fogged windowpane. A tangled mess of thin blonde hair half hid her face, but as Cye moved slowly closer to the girl, she watched as an expression of wonderment dawned into view. Ivory's eyes were large and fascinated with the gray, raining world on the other side of the glass. Cye wondered what could be so captivating outside, though if it was anything like her conversation she'd had earlier with the same storm, Torrent had a few good guesses. Half amused, half curious, Cye watched Ivory watch the rain. The girl's stiff, swollen fingers flexed against the window and she nodded her head occasionally as she watched and listened to the rain beat what Cye decided was almost a sad, lonely rhythm against the thick glass.

Then another wave of the ever-ripening air wafted under her nose. Cye was not going to sit around forever. "Yo," she called out softly, "Ivory."

Ivory let out a startled gasp and twisted towards Cye, but the movement was too fast for the injured girl to maintain her balance. Ivory's bandages slipped against the slick window, and her hands lost their grip against the glass and slid rapidly downward, tipping her body forward. Ivory's head made a thunking noise as it hit the glass, causing her to cry out and rear back and clutch her head; at the same time Ivory's knees gave out, sending her tumbling off the sofa and onto the floor.

Immediately, Rowen was awake. He jumped from his chair at the sound of Ivory crying out, knocking over the chair onto White Blaze in his effort to snap-to-it.

"Ivory, are you all right?" Rowen asked, skidding to a halt by the girl and dropping to his knees, "Ivory?"

"I'm sorry Rowen, I surprised her—hey, what's she doing?" Cye asked, kneeling down next to Rowen. The two watched as Ivory began to whimper and curled up into as little a ball as she could force her stiff, broken body. Rowen sucked in a hard breath as Ivory started to rock back and forth on the floor, her hands over her head and her face buried in her knees to form a protective shell. Cye grabbed Ivory's shoulders, trying to stop the rocking. "Easy, Ivory, hey," she soothed, "take it easy. Stop that, come on—"

"She's saying something," Rowen realized, leaning close to Ivory's head. "What the—"

Cye copied Rowen and inclined her head close to Ivory's face to pick up a fast paced monologue.

"…I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm…"

Cye pulled away, "Trident's ears," she swore, "sit her up, quick, before she panics any more."

Rowen nodded, "get her on the couch."

Quickly, the two teens picked the cowering form off the floor and hefted her onto the sofa. Cye grimaced and took a firm hold of the girl's shoulders while Rowen pulled her legs straight, setting her feet on the cold floor. At the touch of their hands against her pale skin, Ivory started breathing faster and her muscles spasmed desperately against their strong grips. "I'm sorry!" She cried louder, her eyes wide and unseeing as she struggled against the two, "I'm sorry I'm sorry—"

"Hey hey, Ivory," Cye let go of the girl's shoulders to take a firm hold of her jaw, forcing Ivory to look squarely at Cye. "It's all right, calm down. There's nothing to be sorry about, shh, calm down…"

Pale blue met vibrant green as Cye used her unique brand of empathy to soothsay the girl, letting her virtue of Trust wash against Ivory like a gentle low sea tide; the calming effects of Cye's voice poured over Ivory's fear and pulled it out and away with the riptide of Cye's whispering voice. Ivory's breathing began to slow and her eyes blinked and watered. She took a deep, shuddering breath and shook her head free of Cye's grip; her eyes wavered and then focused at her self appointed guardians as if seeing them for the very first time.

Cye smiled, "morning, Sunshine. You feel better now?"

Ivory blinked, surprised at being addressed so directly, and ducked her head. Scraggly blonde hair fell over her face, but Cye could see the barest hint of blue peaking out between strands as the girl covertly watched the two people in front of her. Torrent chuckled quietly to herself. The girl reminded her of a shy Spinner dolphin Cye once encountered beached after a vicious storm had ripped across the coast. If Cye could make friends with that little snapper, a slip of a girl couldn't be that much more difficult.

"Well, you're not screaming anymore, so there's some improvement," she mused, "though I don't know what there's to be sorry about—except the smell in this room, whew!"

Rowen snorted, "You don't smell like a spring cherry blossom yourself, Cye."

"But I don't smell like a three day unwashed body, either." Cye replied, getting to her feet and helping Rowen up. "I think its time Ivory had a bath."

Rowen raised a blue eyebrow, "a bath."

"You like the way she smells?" Cye saw him one eyebrow and raised him a second.

"Not particularly, no."

"Then pick her up and let's get going. I'm getting faint."

"Wonderful, " he muttered, "chauffeur duties." He turned to Ivory, trying hard to keep the frown off his face, "ready?"

Ivory's eyes went wide. Rowen sighed; he'd take that as a "no."

It was an awkward walk to the bathroom that ultimately ended with Rowen picking up the unsteady girl and carrying her the interminable length of the hallway. Her ankle still soar from its encounter with the tree root, combined with three days of sleep and healing, made for an unsteady gait down the wood floored hall. Cye had been on one side an with Rowen supporting her on the other, but after the third time of tripping on a thin rug lying on the floor, Strata sighed in exasperation and simply scooped the girl into his arms.

Ivory's eyes went wide as a small scream fell from her lips as Rowen lifted her off the ground. Not sure whether to hold onto the boy for support or curl in on herself once more in fear of reprisal, her muscles froze and Ivory dared not move.

Tension sang through her body and this time Rowen did scowl. It was like holding on to a time bomb. "You're fine, Ive," he told her, giving her a little heft, "I'm not gonna hurt ya."

"That's right," said Cye, now slightly ahead of the two and walking backward to talk to the girl and keep her calm. "You're doing all right, Ivory. Rowen only looks mean."

"Funny, Cye," Rowen replied, ducking into the bathroom sideways, taking care not to knock the girl's feet in the narrow doorway. "Where do you want her?"

Cye began to forage through the shelves of the bathroom closet, searching for towels and bath soap, "set her on the toilet, would you, Ro? Make sure the seat is down first, though."

"You'd think I'd just let her fall in?"

"Knowing you, Rowen? You'd probably flush."

"Hey," Rowen was indignant. "That was cruel, Cye."

Torrent turned around and patted her friend's cheek in a condescending manner, "it was supposed to be. Now, shoo for a while, I'll help Ivory with her bath."

"Help?" Rowen stood there for a few moments blinking owlishly, "Oh," he finally said. His cheeks flared to a brilliant crimson and he began edging backward, "Right, well, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me—" Rowen scuttled through the door and shut it firmly.

Cye chuckled as she heard his fast paced footsteps retreating quickly through the hall and down the stairs. "Poor Rowen," she murmured before turning back to Ivory who sat wide-eyed and trembling on the porcelain lid of the toilet. "Well," Cye entreated, "how about that bath?"

Ivory stared at Cye.

Cye let out a long breath of air and counted to five, "you can talk, you know. I'm sure you've got plenty to say about something. And I'd like to hear it."

Ivory cocked her head at Cye, regarding her warily, but also curiously. She was considering her words, at least, so Cye left it at that and moved to the faucet. The knobs squeaked and groaned and water began gushing from the faucet into the European style tub, quickly filling the basin. Air in the bathroom began to thicken and steam floated aimlessly through the atmosphere. Cye hummed to herself as she poured in an array of disinfectants and bubbling soap. No matter what, the water would sting the girl as it penetrated the cuts and furthered the healing process. As an afterthought, Cye turned the water to hot, thinking it silly to be concerned about burning a creature that thrived on fire and heat.

"All right, girl, off with your clothes."

If at all possible, Ivory looked shocked. She shrunk down a little and gripped the toilet hard. She looked up at Cye like a cornered animal, the whites of her eyes glistening brightly in the intense bathroom lights.

Cye gave an amused snort and rolled up her sleeves, "Oh come now. I'm not going to hurt you, we're both girls, and you can't take a bath with 'em on. Let's go, then."

Five minutes later, both girls were sweating and Ivory was breathing hard at the effort it had taken to move her limbs and shimmy off the loose sweatpants and oversized shirt that Cye and Sage had dressed her in after fixing her up three days ago. The cast was a lost cause; Cye decided to just let it get wet, and the rest of the bandages were so bloody or so nasty smelling that they came off no matter what was underneath, and went directly into the garbage. Thankfully, most everything on her skin was either the ugly yellow of a healing bruise or the puckered pink of a fresh scar, but Cye knew the muscles and the bones underneath were still sore and stiff.

"Sorry, sweetie," Cye murmured to a now completely naked Ivory. "The bath will make you feel better, promise." Trying hard not to look at her pronounced ribs and jutting hip bones, Cye helped Ivory ease into the steaming tub, one inch at a time. Almost fully seated, the once proud Fire's foot slipped on the soapy bottom and the weak creature gasped and pinwheeled her arms around to regain her balance, but ended smacking Cye in the face instead. Cye went "ooph!" at the sudden hit and lost her grip. Removed of her support, Ivory fell backwards and disappeared into the bubbly depths with a spectacular splash of hot, sudsy water.

"Crap!" Cye shoved her hands into the hot bath. "Ivory!" She found a shoulder and pulled hard upwards. Ivory shot out of the water, a mass of iridescent soap clouds and streaming water. She shook herself off and turned her startled blue eyes on Cye.

"Hot!" She exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh!" Cye gasped in shock, "You talked! I mean, jeez, you all right? Is it too hot? Are you okay?"

Ivory shuddered a bit and dipped her body back into the big tub until her chin lapped against the water, and her eyes closed in what Cye could only describe as sheer bliss. "Hot," she purred, her voice soft and savory.

Unsure about what was going on, Cye kneeled by the tub and propped her arms on the rim. "Hmm," she said, "I suppose you haven't had a bath in a while."

Ivory opened her eyes and looked up at Cye, then glanced away, "wasn't…wasn't allowed."

"Wasn't allowed…" Cye repeated. "You mean, by you were with before?" Cye shook her head, nonplussed, "But you shouldn't remember them." I know I destroyed those memories.

Ivory tensed up in the water, creating fine shivers that made the water around her roll out in little waves. "Did I do…bad? No hot? I'm sorry I'm sor—"

"What? No!" Cye shook her head, cutting off a potential panic attack, "I'm surprised you remember them, that's all. No, you forget them and from now on, right? And I'll make sure you get hot baths at whenever you want and keep you roasty toasty all day; how about it?"

Ivory sat there, blinking in near disbelief with eyes that Cye would swear were becoming a deeper blue every time she looked at them. Then, very quietly, as if almost afraid of the answer, she asked in a faint, pensive voice, as if not daring to believe Cye wasn't setting her up for a fall: "All day? All hot?"

Torrent smiled her warmest smile, "Hot as you can take it."

Ivory closed her eyes to sink even deeper into the water and spoke in a soft, wistful hush, "I…I miss the hot."

Miss the hot. Deep inside her the worm burst into a thousand little butterflies. Cye's throat constricted and her heart gave a painful thump at the sudden lack of space in her chest. She swallowed, not anymore, you won't. I swear it.

Suddenly, Ivory smiled. It was the first positive, real expression Cye had seen from her.

"Okay!" she announced. "Clean!"

Cye blinked, and then laughed, surprised at the sudden mood swing, "Not yet, you're not! Arms up, girl!"

Ivory didn't obey but instead wallowed deeper into the water, sending a hot wave pouring over the side and into Cye's lap. Bubbles popped at the surface as Ivory scowled at Cye. Torrent sighed, but smiled and rerolled her sleeves.

Mission accepted.

Ryo meandered into the kitchen at half past nine on the first morning of spring break. Two full weeks in the middle his favorite season with nothing more to do than kick a ball and baby-sit a bird. What more could he want? Answers to all the damn questions that were buzzing around in his already too full head.

Sliding into his normal seat at the kitchen table, Ryo turned a speculative eye on the meager array of breakfast items and the lack of warm bodies that were supposed to be filling the empty chairs around him. He looked up at Sage and, surprisingly, Rowen, who were sitting in seats across the table from him.

"Is Cye on strike, or has the world simply stopped turning?"

Sage let out a soft chuckle. "Cye decided to be busy this morning, Ryo. She said that unless we wanted to trade places with her, which I doubt she would allow, we'd have to fend for ourselves this morning."

"Really," Ryo raised an eyebrow at his friend, "what, exactly, is she busy doing?"

"Helping Ivory get cleaned up," Sage's one visible eye held a gleam of amusement, "isn't that right, Rowen?"

Rowen tilted his head back and took a long swig of very black coffee. His porcelain mug came down with a definite 'clink' as he glared at his friend, "Its not funny, Sage."

The amused gleam intensified, "yes it is."

Ryo flicked his eyes back and forth between the two, wondering about the joke he'd missed between the two of his friends, and if he really wanted to know. Watching Rowen split a bagel in half with a bread knife, Ryo decided he really didn't.

Mia came through the kitchen door with a yawn and a wave to the seated trio. "Morning, boys."

A various assortment of early day greetings were thrown out as Mia scrounged up a banana and a bowl of milk before seating herself at the table beside Ryo. Peeling back her banana in a meticulous fashion, she began to cut thin slices of the white fruit and drop them one by one into her bowl. "So what's on the Ronin agenda today?"

Ryo swallowed back a mouthful of granola, "considering its raining cats and dogs outside, we'll have to stick to indoor playtime activities."

"Really," Mia replied, spooning her bananas evenly in the milk, "and exactly what areas of the house will I have to reinforce for these indoor playtime activities?"

Ryo grinned and winked at Rowen, "the usual amount, I suppose."

Rowen nodded back in a solemn gesture, "all of them."

Sage snorked in his glass of orange juice, caught off guard by his friend's attempt at jocularity. Mia laughed and Ryo chuckled, while Rowen simply shook his head and took a bite of his bagel. "Kento's up, by the way."

Sure enough, a quiet rumbling from the stairs made the table occupants look up. Mia and Ryo leaned back in their chairs to see a disheveled looking Kento headed down the steps, his feet hitting each plank with an impressive thunk. His countenance was mostly alert and scowling as he jumped the last few steps and headed to the kitchen. Stopping at the doorway, he directed his glare at Sage and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Cye wants you, Sage. Something about Ivory and new bandages."

Sage gave him a pleasant smile, "good morning to you too, Kento. Cye not letting you eat?"

The hefty Ronin's scowl deepened, "no. Not until Ivory gets downstairs."

Rowen chuckled and slurped on his coffee, "poor Kento. It must be awful to be so empty so early."

Kento turned a flinty gaze to his blue friend, "shut up, Coffee Boy."

Sage took one last sip of his juice and stood, "behave, gentleman. Its too early for cabin fever."

There was a chorus of "whatevers" that made him chuckle as he strode from the kitchen and up the way Kento had come. He detoured briefly at the hall storage closet. Grabbing an assortment of ointments and wraps, he wondered why Cye was bothering with Ivory so early on a day that there would be very little else to do. He hadn't even been planning to wake the girl until well after breakfast. The door swung shut with an easy flick of his hand and he continued down the hall.

Knocking softly on the bathroom door, Halo called out, "Cye? Everyone decent?"

"Come on in, Sage."

Sage did as he was bidden and carefully opened the door, leaving it open to let the captured humidity escape into the dry hallway air. In the bathroom proper, Ivory was seated on a towel draped across the toilet, dressed in a t-shirt and baggy jeans that were too large for her petite frame. The fact that they were Cye's clothes—made obvious by a shirt decorated in brightly colored orange goldfish swimming through a Technicolor blue background—disturbed Sage. He knew it wasn't her emaciated condition that made the clothes not fit, but the simple fact that something about the girl was just too small.

He turned to Cye, who was dressed in a similar outfit, only green with smiling orcas cavorting about the front, and gave her a look, "nice choice of clothing, Cye. Did she pick it out, or are you just that bad of an influence?"

"Oh ha ha, Blondie," said Cye, amusement adding a lilt to her already very British accent, "I apologize if we can't all be walking Vogue advertisements. We're going to have to go shopping and get her some clothes that actually fit."

"I agree." Sage looked back at Ivory, who was sitting quietly on the white seat, her hands braced on the edge of the seat to support her weight in front of her body, glancing between the two Ronins like a puppy eyeing perspective owners. "But let's leave you both home."

"Hey!"

Sage shook his head. "Let's get this done, shall we? My cold breakfast is warming as we speak."

Cye rolled her eyes, "fine." She pushed off the counter and stretched, throwing her arms into the air, her hands reaching into the collected mists. "I took all the old bandages off before she got in, they were starting to smell something awful."

Sage nodded, "they've been on three days, I should think so. But let's take a look, see what needs to be reapplied and what we should leave to air out."

Ivory continued to sit quietly, apparently used to being talked about as if she weren't there. Sage said a silent curse for his manners and turned to her, "good morning, Ivory. How are you this morning?"

Ivory gave the teen an apprehensive glance and turned to Cye for directions. The other girl smiled at her.

"You're all right. Sage doesn't bite, either."

Ivory nodded and bit her lip to look back at the tall blonde teen, her eyes large and curious, searching for confirmation of this new light of information. Then, very tentatively, her hand came out and she stretched long slim fingers towards him, letting them hover just inches away from his body. Sage felt a tingle rush through his body.

"Bright," she told him, looking up.

The hairs on the back of Sage's neck stood up and danced. "Shit," he swore, and stepped back from the girl. How'd you do that? "Don't do that!"

Immediately, Ivory's hand snapped back to her body. She shrank back from the teen and cringed, "wrong? Wrong? I'm sorry, wrong! Sorry sorry—"

"Whoa! Not again!" Cye pounced on the girl and swooped her up into a tight hold. "Sage, apologize for scaring her!"

"She scared me," he replied, shaken. "I thought you said you'd—"

"I did," Cye snapped, "and she remembers them, too. But forget that right now and say sorry before she has a meltdown!"

Sage shook his head, realizing that he'd overreacted somehow. "What's there to be sorry about?" He grabbed Ivory underneath her arms and lifted her out of Cye's grip to set her on the counter by the sink. Ivory winced at the sudden movement, but the action was surprising enough that she stopped her desperate monologue and glanced up at Sage to see him giving her an amused smile. "After all, I'm pretty bright, aren't I."

Ivory blinked at him, giving Sage the okay to keep talking. "But pretty stupid to get worked up over you reading my aura. Just give me a warning next time, Ivory. And no more sorry, you've been throwing that at my head for days. All right?"

Ivory dropped her head, "'kay."

Sage dropped his sword calloused hand on the top of Ivory's head and ruffled her drying hair. Rowen was right, I can't underestimate this creature. "I think I just heard your stomach—or White Blaze roaring. Let's get you fixed up and down to the kitchen."

With that, Sage got to work and Cye watched with detached amusement as the empath carefully examined the pale blonde girl, moving her back and forth with hardly any discomfort to show for Ivory's efforts. Only a few more bandages were necessary, but mostly for support. Sage lectured Cye for ruining the cast but replaced it with a light wrap.

"There," he announced finally as he secured the gauze on her arm, "done. Don't get those wet today, all right?"

Ivory grabbed her lower lip and worried it with her teeth, but nodded. Sage glanced at Cye, "does she talk normally yet?"

Cye chuckled, "volumes. Ask her what kind of breakfast she likes."

Sage glanced back at Ivory. He cocked an eyebrow at her, "what kind?"

"Break…fast." Ivory seemed to think about this for a minute. Then she looked to Sage, "Um, ah, m-maybe a…a warm breakfast?"

Cye coughed and made an up motion with her hands. Sage caught on quick, he flashed the girl a catty smile, "wouldn't you like a hot breakfast better?"

"Hot!" The look of sheer delight that dawned over Ivory's face made Sage's long night on the meditation field and not so pleasant morning completely worth the hassles and petty fights he had suffered through.

"Come on," he said, picking the girl up off the counter and setting her on her feet, "let's get you to breakfast."

"And I'm just in time, I see." Kento's gruff voice resonated from the bathroom doorway. "Is she all done?"

Cye pushed her hips off the bathroom counter and nodded to the other Ronin, "yup. Kento, could you bring her down to the kitchen while we clean up here?"

"Sure, " Kento flashed the room a grin and flexed his muscles in an impressive display that was lost on everyone but the large sink mirror. "Hardrock Moving Service at your…service." The boy grinned sheepishly, "I need a better slogan."

Cye laughed and threw a towel at him, "that you do."

Kento grinned again and moved in to pick up his carry on. "You ready, Ivory?"

The slender girl ducked behind Sage and eyed Kento carefully, her watered down blues betraying her apprehension towards the impressively sized Ronin. Cye resisted the urge to massage her temples. If they were going to have to go through the scared "sorry sorry" routine with everyone, this was going to be a long day.

Strangely enough, however, Kento was either oblivious to the look she gave him, or decided to ignore it, because he waltzed over to the girl and scooped her into his arms with a graceful arc that tossed her into the air. Ivory gave a yip and fell onto his brawny forearms, and she wrapped her own slender limbs around his thick neck for balance. His grin widened even more, and as she turned to him with astonished eyes, Kento gave her a wink with his own bright baby blues.

"Pretty girls just can't keep their hands off me," he joked as positioned her carefully for better carrying.

His quip was rewarded by a slight blush from his passenger as she tried to hide her rosy cheeks in the bend of his shoulder.

Kento chuckled, "that's what I thought. Now, off to breakfast. What'cha makin', Cye?"

Frosty green emeralds settled on the grinning Hardrock as Cye paused in picking up Ivory's discarded clothes, "what am I making?"

"Of course," Kento replied, his face taking on a note of seriousness. "You can't expect poor distressed Ivory to fix her own breakfast, can you? Sick in bed for days? She'll make a bigger mess than Rowen and I combined."

"Really."

The boy nodded in earnest, "it's all for the best, I think. And I'm sure the others would agree with me. But then, there's the matter of what she can really eat. So you'd probably have to make lots of different kinds of foods to see what she likes."

Cye's eyebrow rose slowly over the course of Kento's speech. She continued to look at him with cynical skepticism. "And the fact that you'll coincidentally be eating the leftovers makes no-nevermind to you."

"I gladly sacrifice my stomach for the sake of the cause."

Sage began to chuckle, "oh, go on, Cye. There's not much to clean up here, anyway."

Cye turned her flat green eyes to Sage. "Gruel," she threatened. "Bland, unsalted, Irish Steel gruel."

Halo smiled blandly at his friend. "I've already eaten most of my breakfast, thank you."

"Of course you have," Cye rolled her eyes and heaved a resigned sigh, "well why not? Its what we're here for, after all. Come on, then. Let's find you poor sacrificial lambs something to eat."

True to his offer, Sage stayed upstairs to clean up the minor mess they had made while bathing Ivory (Any mess had been worth it, the girl stank like last week's garbage.) and Cye led the oddly formed procession down the stairs and back into the kitchen.

Kento made a ruckus the whole way, bellowing out a variety of off color jokes and remarks that made Ivory gasp, blush, and giggle alternatively until they reached the kitchen, where he gave her by then a comfortable and smiling Ivory a good-natured Eskimo kiss and set her down in the chair next to an astounded Rowen and across from an equally amaze Ryo. Kento then took his own seat and wiggled his eyebrows at Cye, who was standing by the stove with a thoughtful expression draped across her features.

"Well, Cye?"

Ryo and Rowen exchanged curious glances with each other. The tiger eyed boy looked at Ivory, who was sitting alert and curious across from him, and then back to Rowen. Strata shrugged and Ryo gave him a brief glare. He turned to Cye, "what's up, Cye?"

Kento answered for her, "Cye decided to make Ivory breakfast."

Wildfire's eyes brightened, "really? Any chance of leftovers?"

Cye stared at various air molecules, not listening to the conversation circulating around her. Slender fingers gently tapped against her delicate chin as thoughts shared their views with her. Finally, she pushed herself off the oven door and began to bustle about the kitchen. Bending down, she deftly popped open a low cabinet and pulled out a large pot. Placing it in the sink, she gave the faucet handle a negligent flip to turn on the cold water before opening a higher cabinet and taking out a large cream-colored canister. Placing it next to the sink, she turned off the water and carried the pot over to the stove. Her fingers deftly ran over a sequence of dials and buttons, and very soon the water was boiling and the grainy contents of the canister were being poured in by a humming Chef Girl Ardie.

Mia watched with appreciative fascination as Cye moved about the kitchen. Now there was a multi-talented individual, dominating every aspect of any field. Cye was chopping peach quarters with fast and deadly accuracy. A single slip with the large cutting knife she was wielding could easily remove a finger, but the girl was a master at all things, and the peaches would add flavor to the normally bland oats. Those done and thrown into the pot, Cye went for the fridge next, coming out with butter, milk, sausages, and eggs. While the oatmeal simmered and the peaches warmed and soaked through the oats, eggs were scrambled and the sausages were fried.

The table occupants sighed. Heaven was a warm kitchen and a master cook at work.

Reaching up, Cye collected a number of bowls from an open cabinet and some spoons from a drawer to the left of the stove. Depositing them on the table and leaving the occupants to distribute them, she turned back to the preparing meal, responding to timers only she could hear.

"Right," she said after a few minutes, carrying her wares to the table. "A bit of this, a bit of that, and peach oatmeal in the pot and chicken and pig galore!"

A large spoon appeared magically in Torrent's hands, plates and bowls were passed methodically around the table until Kento placed a steaming portion in front of the over-awed Ivory.

"There you go, Ivory," he said, helping her obtain a grip around a spoon he placed in the less bandaged of her hands, "Cye makes good everything."

The girl peered at the food before carefully dipping her spoon into the warm meal and bringing the first real substance she'd had in days or weeks to her mouth. Her lips closed around the metal utensil and she drew it out clean.

Cye watched appraisingly as Ivory rolled the oats and peach slices around her tongue. Her eyes became wide and vibrantly blue as she swallowed her food and exclaimed once more, "hot!"

Torrent laughed a rich, wholesome sound that was rewarded by an inquisitive turn of Ivory's head.

"The way food should be, don't you think?" Cye asked, gentle amusement twinkling in her eyes. The chef was rewarded by another shy smile. The others dug into their plates and Ivory began to eat in earnest.

Outside, the storm continued.

It was raining, and raining very hard. Despite it being midday, the city was dark and streetlights illuminated sheets of big droplets of cold rainwater plummeting from the sky to wash the streets and cleanse the gutters. Hardy garden plants on every block opened up to the welcomed storm while delicate flowers hunkered down and waited out the aquatic barrage.

One street had no gardens, no flowerbeds.

Jamten looked out his window and snarled. It was a sound fueled by pent-up frustration and unvented anger. The rain was a mocking reminder of his recent torrent of failures that overwhelmed and drowned out his once indomitable successes. Hiding in a shabby apartment on some backwater bit of earth was not the way his plans were supposed to be headed.

Rolling off the couch, the General placed his bare brown feet into the plush black carpet and began to pace. His actions were becoming a tiresome ritual in an endless string of days.

Why could things never go the way he wanted them to? His wishes were simple enough. Obtain power beyond that of the three raptors and serve as First Disciple to Fate. And he'd been so close to achieving it all. So close! After Mindu, he'd finally thought that Fate was smiling upon him, giving him signs that he was to be the favored one. By his accounts, Jamten had won that particular skirmish. Destiny's forces had arrived divided and confused to the battlefield, their fighting strength substantially weakened. The Tieran Yaw was crippled and helpless to command his own army; emotional old fool—he let his own anger and stubborn nature get the best of him. And because of the Dark Lord's pitiful condition, his army and his opposite's military were degraded as well.

Best of all of fortune's gifts, however, had been the deliverance of the Phoenix to his control. She'd been scarcely seen or heard of for a thousand years, there'd even been rumors of her death. But Jamten knew the truth: she'd been hiding from her brooding partner so that she could sulk in her own private nest after that silly argument they'd had twelve centuries ago. Morons. Letting themselves be so controlled by emotions of all things. The very thing the two thrived on had been there undoing. However, Jamten had known that, as angry as she was, the Phoenix would not let her loved ones go needlessly slaughtered. And Jamten had counted on that, on all of it. Away from the nourishment of the Tieran Yaw's company, the Raptor of Fire had been weak, vulnerable, and easily captured.

He'd had so many plans for that …Pigeon. At first he thought to simply deliver her to Cromer, or perhaps, Fate himself. But that proved to be too difficult, and subduing the fire bitten creature had taken too much time and energy. Jamten had forgotten about her spunk and tenacity and outright hatred of him. That, and he hadn't counted on the immediate forces that the Tieran Yaw had dispatched to find her. Too many initial miscalculations had forced him and his small band into hiding.

Damn that hideous rain! Jamten swore and looked out he window again. Would that fool never give up? He was too late—all of his efforts were wasted, why didn't he just accept it and go home? Probably, Jamten though sourly, because his own were beginning to look trifle as well. Master Cromer had finally caught up to them four months ago and had ordered his generals out to the light where he could keep an eye on them. Cromer was both pleased and upset about Jamten's efforts. He'd been trying for eons to duplicate Jamten's sudden and fortunate results, but without success. It was another mistake that Jamten had been hiding not only from his enemies, but from his master as well. Which was why he was now more in the open than he had been in years. Didn't Lord Cromer realize that he was giving Jamten's carefully concealed position away to any gawking passerby?

Of course he does, Jamten snarled. He's just looking for an excuse to rip into my sorry hide.

Jamten sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. Well, now Cromer had one. The bird had, quite literally, flown the coop. In choosing the island nation, Jamten realized too late that the Phoenix had already been to the backwater planet and swept her long reaching wing out to affect its occupants. Yes, those five children had been another mistake. He should have listened to Norban and left them the Hell alone. Yet he hadn't counted on their abilities to be so advanced. Elemental ties usually weren't as strong as the ones the little warrior children demonstrated. What's more, Jamten had been too confident that steps to camouflage his party would hide every aspect of their presence. He should have known that no matter what, some type of retaliation would come eventually. After all, any good soldier would defend his leader or try to reclaim a captured comrade. Jamten just wanted to know how the whelps recognized the Phoenix in her present, decrepit state.

The door to the outside opened briefly and the wet winds blew through the apartment and licked at his face and clothes.

"Fillip," Jamten scowled, addressing the newcomer, "where have you been? Have you forgotten how dangerous this weather is?"

Fillip scowled back at his companion as he tromped into the room, shaking off the rain and shrugging out of his soaked coat. "It couldn't be helped, all right? There were a lot of loose ends I needed to take care of."

Jamten grunted, "did you take care of our leak, then?"

"Naturally."

"Did you find out how he did it?"

The sandy haired General shook his head, "no. Damn fool was as fragile as he was stupid. One little smack and he was gone."

"Hmph," Jamten rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "For the best, I suppose. What did you tell the school system?"

"As of now Professor Chillice Naiso is on indefinite leave for a family emergency. If he isn't heard of by the start of the next scholastic semester, it should be assumed that the good teacher is permanently needed and should not be expected back."

Jamten nodded once, "good. That solves that particular problem."

"Now," Fillip inclined his head, "on to the next few."

The taller General snorted and fell back onto the couch. "Like my recent migraine and new ulcer. Has Norban reported back about our charming Pigeon?"

"Only that she's healing faster than we initially thought. Most likely she'll come back to the school after the spring break looking healthy."

"Pity. Does he know why she's healing?"

"No," Fillip stripped his dripping jacket and threw it across the room, where it landed securely on fashioned gold peg staked onto the wall by the living room entryway. "But I partly do."

"Really, do tell."

Fillip crossed the room and grabbed a decanter from the fire mantle along with two glasses that stood by the glass bottle. Walking back to Jamten, he set them down on the rose crystal coffee table and began to pour berry colored liquid into each glass. Full, he picked up the one closest to him and threw his head back for a long drink. "One of those whelps is an empath as well as a healer with some ability. I've felt him enter the higher fields once or twice already."

Jamten picked up the other glass and swished the liquid around; he thought Coller wine tasted like sangrit piss, and he knew Fillip knew what he thought of it. "How strong is he?"

"Strong enough that he's been able to locate Ivory's mind the few times he's gone in."

"You know what he's found?"

Fillip snorted, "all that we've left, I'd suppose. What else is there? She emptied her mind the first time we attacked it, and its been a dry husk ever since. I doubt he'd be able to stir up anything that we haven't been able to."

"Then he's nothing of consequence."

The younger General poured himself another glass, "I don't know, really. The only way to find out would be to go against him."

"No," Jamten stated firmly. "No more confrontations just yet. We don't want to stir ourselves up. Especially right now."

Fillip cast a meaningful glance out the window to watch the rain beating steadily against the glass. "So you think its him?"

"I know its him," the other sneered. "The rain stinks of his scent and the wind screams his song. If I ever get my hands on the bastard who led him here—"

"You don't think Naiso called him?"

"Naiso? Don't be foolish. Naiso isn't smart enough to call his own mother, much less lead that preening, black bushed, lead winged—"

Jamten! That is enough!

Startled, Jamten's tirade cut off mid word, and he looked about with a shocked expression. He turned wildly to Fillip whose face had drained to that of a pale ghost's reflection, made worse by the stunning red accent of the wine that hovered close to his wide open mouth.

Open the portal, my Generals, so that we may converse.

"Ý-yes, Milord!" The bright blonde stuttered, "at once!"

Jumping over the couch in one fluid motion, Jamten crossed the room and threw a tasteful forest green canvas to the floor, revealing a very old, gold framed, bejeweled mirror. Ignoring his and Fillip's sweating and frightened looking reflections, Jamten passed his hand over a delicate ruby rose bud without touching the intricate turquoise leaves or gold gloss. Immediately their images in the mirror began to shimmer and small waves rippled from the center to the edges. The action caused a disturbance in the reflection and quickly the Generals' faces were wiped away.

In their stead came Cromer. His image was a startling one; even his enemies admitted he could only be called beautiful. Hair that was a bright, snow-blind white framed a lightly tanned face and a strong, chiseled jaw that sloped in a perfect angle into a powerful chin unmarred by dimple or hair. Full lips sat sensuously on the man's face in neither a smile nor a pout, simply a feature to follow up to a finely sculptured nose and bridge to eyes that shone like two golden sunsets. Rich and deep, they told nothing and everything about the person who would watch you with them, beckoning a person to come closer, and look deeper, and deeper, until they were blissfully enveloped with no thought of escape. Cromer, only disciple to Fate, was a glorious picture to gaze upon, but a deadly one to worship. Jamten and Fillip took a knee and bowed their heads low to their chests, fighting to keep their breathing steady and their trembling hidden from sight.

My generals, Cromer's voice echoed like an intimate secret through the room. Rise and greet your master as befits our ranks.

"Hail Cromer, Master of Day and Heir of the Son." Jamten rose slowly and met the approving eyes of his lord.

"Hail Cromer, Bestower of Mercy and Guardian and Fate's Divinity." Fillip followed his comrade's movements, tentatively meeting his master's gaze.

Greetings, my followers, first receivers of the light's gifts. Now, on to business. Where is my flaming goddess of light?

The two generals exchanged quick glances. Fillip swallowed and cleared his throat. "Resting, Master. The rain drenches the earth and makes heavy the creatures that live upon it."

Ah. The beautiful head nodded in understanding. The Yaw's methods have always been cumbersome and detrimental to my beloved's health. Let her then sleep and hide her mind from his vagrant search.

Jamten lowered his head; thanking every source of luck that Cromer accepted Fillip's smooth words and hadn't asked to see the absent pigeon. "As you wish it, Master."

Have you felt or seen the Dark One as of yet?

"Nay, My Lord," Fillip responded. "The rain only whispers his name in their falling."

The wind may whisper, but this night upon your world will herald his arrival. Watch closely the weather, for he will come in a veil of mists. His presence and others' will be concealed in a thick fog not easily penetrated. Do not be fooled, my Generals, or I will be sorely disappointed in thee.

The ancient boys bowed low, "we will not fail you, Oh Master."

For your sakes, I should expect not. Thy past deeds have made me both proud and concerned. Mayhap I am willing to forgive, but forgetfulness is not a commendable virtue. Cromer's speech became hard and sinister. The chills of unspoken threats crept along Jamten's and Fillip's spines, and the two knew that Cromer was in a bad mood. Maybe they should have offered to fetch the Pigeon.

"Great Cromer—" Jamten's voice was suddenly cut off as the air in his windpipe vanished and his throat constricted. He couldn't swallow, he couldn't breathe. Croaking out airless puffs, he fell to his knees and clawed at his throat, desperate to relieve the mounting pressure in his esophagus. Darkness danced in the corners of vision and blood seeped from deep scratches on his neck. He dropped to the floor but raised one blood-drizzled hand to reach towards the mirror in a gasping petition for mercy.

It wasn't really answered. But then, it never was.

Not even am I on your same planet. Not even am I in your same dimension. Yet my fingers easily grasp your throat to show you the extent of my greatness as well as my mercy. Breathe, Jamten, and heal yourself. Cromer's beautiful eyes were cold and his mouth was set in a hard, unrelenting line. Remember well this lesson, my generals. Do not presume to rise above yourself. Reward will come to those deserving and strife to those who dabble in deceit.

Fillip's hand shook like that of an old man's as he placed his fist over his heart and bowed low once more. "Your words and greatness are our guide on the Path," he wheezed, "oh Master. We are fortunate indeed to have you as the Disciple to lead us to glory."

Indeed, said the creature. Rise Jamten, or must I help yea?

"No, Master," Jamten's voice was sandpaper on brick, but he managed to rise to his knees and once more face his master. Blood fell slowly down the curves of his throat, but he bravely ignored the pain and stared ahead with unwavering eyes.

Excellent. Now, I trust everything is ready for my arrival?

"Nearly, Master. By the time the new month ends, we shall have our preparations done and your entry will be exalted by all."

See that it is. Now I must depart. Take care as to keep my Phoenix well at hand and that my arrival is suitably prepared for. I want no foul ups and no surprises. Is that understood, my generals?

"It is understood, Master."

Good. With that, the mirror began to ripple and the golden image shimmered and faded into nothing, leaving only the bloodied and paled reflections of the two young looking men.

Immediately, Jamten collapsed back to the floor, sprawled on his back. "That was close," he gasped out.

Fillips legs gave out and he sank down next to Jamten. "Very," he agreed.

Raising one hand in a mocking salute, Jamten coughed out to his companion. "Here's to that waggling tongue of yours. Not only do we not have that damn Pigeon, but we haven't even found a way to get him here."

"How does he expect us to open a portal for him? He's been banned from this dimension."

Jamten hacked and turned his head to the side, spitting out frothy pink saliva. "Let's not worry about that just yet. What's going to be difficult is finding an area that will hold him. You know how he is."

"Destructive," Fillip nodded and gently massaged his throat, "at least he warned us about the Tieran Yaw's coming, though."

"We knew about him coming. Cromer just likes to hear the sound of his voice." Slowly, Jamten pushed himself into a sitting position, the wounds on his throat were closing slowly and breathing was proving to be a chore. "Gather the others. We need to have a meeting."

Sandy hair fell in front across his face as Fillip nodded, "right." Picking himself up, he strolled through the open doorway to seek out his fellow Generals.

Jamten licked his lips and spat again. Things were definitely not going as planned.

Worth the wait? Another chapter coming….kinda soon. For now? Um….review?