Author's Note: My apologies to you evilsangle, I hope you find the next chapters can induce you to forgive me. I will attempt to remember this bond and, Lennox RH, the dinosaurs. I hope you like this chapter.

Regis Santia

End of an Age

The Grandmaster suppressed the urge to wring his hands and pace frantically.

He forced himself to think instead, hoping that he could absorb himself in musings and let the time slip by.

Was it better to be ignorant of an important until it happened or to know of it in advance so that everything else seemed insignificant and time passed at a crawl?

Naturally thought the Grandmaster, it was better to know, it was always better to know. But if one didn't know in advance one couldn't be disappointed, that would cut out the agonised hours of waiting and make the event a pleasant surprise.

Only one problem there, the Grandmaster hated surprises. They were sudden revelations throwing open the evidence of ignorance in a great mockery of the surprised.

He glanced up at the chronometer.

Then he gave in.

He paced. He shouted. He had slaves sacrificed to put him in a temporary coma.

The Grandmaster lay motionless, unaware of the passing hours.

After three hours his eyes jerked open. He stood up and looked around. Where was he? He couldn't remember. He stared around frantically for some spark of remembrance. It just looked like a stone room. Nothing more, nothing less. He panicked, collapsing onto the floor clutching his aching head. After around ten minutes his memories began to return to him. This was the Temple, one of the meditative chambers. The procedure of conjuring a coma caused temporary amnesia and blind panic.

The Grandmaster had never panicked before, he had never realised how painful it was.

He muttered the incantation that dissolved one of the walls of the meditative chamber.

He stepped out into the corridor, ignoring the Acolytes and Templars hurrying around, and purposefully made his way towards the Sanctum Sanctorum.

His eight comrade Masters were already sitting in their chairs. The Grandmaster took his place in the centre of the semicircle, gesturing to guards standing at the mighty doorways. The heavily armoured figures wrenched back the doors. Legions of Templars filed into the Sanctum Sanctorum. It was testimony to the skill of the Technomancer architects that they were able to build a single space able to hold all the Templar inhabitants of the expansive city-sized construction that they called the Temple.

The Grandmaster was nervous, he hated himself for it but it remained a part of him.

He stood and began the opening intonations of a several hour ritual.

The ceremonies and rites wore on, never stopping, never ending.

After three hours of chanting and gesturing the Grandmaster began to feel thirsty, and tired. Another half hour and he wished for nothing more than an end to everything, to slip away from consciousness.

After another half hour of torture it was finished.

And things began to happen. The Grandmaster felt the power surge course through his body with ultimate exultation. For a moment he glimpsed perfection. He had the strength to move worlds, the power to create anything with a single word. He was great, he was mighty, he was perfect.

Then it faded.

He was mortal once more.

There was no doubt; the Ultimate Solution had functioned perfectly. He could feel that the world was different; it was evident in the air he breathed. The air of ever-present doom hanging over the world that had penetrated every part of the Temple in its previous universe was gone. It seemed that the power of the Templars had faded slightly. And it had, without the daemonic presence of Trigon that had come with Templar expansion the sorcerous abilities of the Acolytes, Priests, Masters and indeed the Grandmaster had fallen in power, and the temple had no slaves to drive it along. The first move to be made in this new world was obvious.

General Lamentre of the Tamaranian Defence Corps was having a boring day at his desk. He hated days like that. In what seemed now like a previous life he had been a soldier, he had felt the touch of adventure on every trip into the void. His only failing was a tendency to be too good at his job. So good in fact that he had been prevented from doing it, he had been promoted.

The hateful peace of his quarters was shattered by the high-pitched wailing screech of the alarm. Lamentre took a second to strap his sword onto his belt before rushing out into the corridor and then into the void.

The sight that met his eyes was not pretty, his wide green eyes widened and his eyebrows shot upwards into his shock of red hair. His men, all of the noble blood that allowed them access to the arcane abilities of the great families of feudal Tamaran, flight, strength and the power to create the mighty "starbolts", were being forced back onto their defensive emplacements by small figures swathed in black robes that moved through the void with less than half the half the purpose and grace of the Tamaranian warriors. Obviously these attackers did not have a drop of noble blood in them.

Lamentre felt the battle lust that was so deeply printed into the Tamaranian mind flow through him. Drawing his rapier from its scabbard he howled his battle cry, which was barely audible in the high and almost airless upper atmosphere of Tamaran, and charged into the fray.

He struck left and right with his sword, each blow puncturing a chest and sending static clouds of rapidly freezing blood fountaining out into space. Seeing their commander the other Tamaranians rallied and counter attacked as the robed figures began to fall back.

Lamentre's arms swirled around him, killing and wounding enemies in a great storm of destruction. He lifted his hand and sent a starbolt blasting into the chest of one opponent and decapitated another in the same movement.

He laughed exultantly as the lust for battle inside him led him on a gruesome dance of death.

But the enemy was not finished yet. The foes who fought with clumsy sorcerous energies had caught the defenders by surprise with their initial onslaught were still being forced back by the finesse of Tamaranian warriors but their confidence appeared to be returning.

The frenzy of the fighting reached its peak. Tamaranians darted to and fro, delivering fatal stabs with their rapiers, the attackers responded with great balls of energy that they fired here and there, not caring whether they struck friend or enemy. Then the battle stalled. Behind the enemies a great rift had opened in the very fabric of space.

More fighters were streaming through it, joining the fray on the side of the attackers.

Lamentre rallied his men around him, shouting into his comm. crystal for reinforcements and soldiers to man the atmospheric defence batteries.

Then he and his defenders swept forwards in a final attack.

The Tamaranians streaked across space, rapiers shining and starbolts blazing.

Lamentre crashed into the enemy lines and knew he was going to die. He tore away his grey cape to reveal his shining red armour resplendent with the ancestral heraldry if his House.

Death swept out from him in waves as he struck out with his sword, his strokes as strong as a god's.

All around him warriors fell, sadness turning to anger as he took his revenge on their cruel killers.

He continued his charge into the heart of the enemy, his warriors, faithful to the very end, fell around him.

All to soon his force had dwindled to three men.

He and his two cousins, Sola're and Luna're all of the House of Shahellan stood side by side, each one tall as a tree, and strong as an ox.

And although each delicate stroke of the blade felled an assailant they were cut down.

Luna're fell with a great hole blown in his gut.

The two remaining Tamaranians fought on.

Sola're died on his own blade, wrenched from his hands and plunged into his throat as he slew the enemy that took his weapon with a starbolt.

The final Tamaranian above the atmospheric defence batteries continued his last charge.

Lamentre's body was blow apart by a massive orb of energy. He left no corpse, no bloody remains, he was simply destroyed. But, as would be remembered on Tamaran for generations, he died honourably.

Raven sat on her bed. Her legs were crossed and her eyes were smoothly closed. Her brow was free of lines and her mouth was very slightly curved into a miniscule smile.

It was the first time in days that she had been able to meditate properly. There was no nagging psychic presence at the back of her mind, no fuzzy empathic haze in front of her metaphorical eyes. She was at peace. She repeated her mantra in a soft voice, the rhythm of the words lulling her ears, dulling them against the sound of silence.

In her mind she ran over the events of the last days, it was the first time she had been able to remember them all together, the first time she had been able to remember them all clearly.

In the quiet depths of her psyche, away from the sections ravaged by Trigon in his latest infernal attempt at possession she analysed all of her thoughts, her feelings.

For the moment she was quite happy to merely to know what she would be feeling if she allowed herself to. Sometimes she yearned to feel the raw emotion pump through her. But then sometimes the very thought seemed frightening, as if she was a small child cowering away from something big and new.

A contented sigh, quiet and soft, escaped from her lips.

Then silence returned.

It was broken all too suddenly by a hysterical shriek.

Raven's eyes flicked immediately open. Gone was the meditative peace, and gone with it was her happy mood.

She jumped from her bed, her clear-cut features arranged in a grimace of annoyance.

She stalked through the tower towards Starfire's rooms, what had the alien done now?

She found the four other residents of the tower already in Starfire's room. Starfire herself was lying on her bed, crying uncontrollably. Robin was sitting beside her; a comforting hand on her shoulder. Raven noticed that he looked rather uncomfortable.

Cyborg and Beast Boy were standing back, quite happy to let Robin do the work.

Raven walked over to Cyborg and whispered, "What's happened?"

"No idea, she hasn't stopped crying for long enough to tell us."

Raven rolled her eyes and walked over to the tall girl.

She placed one finger on her back, then closed her eyes.

After around a minute Raven withdrew her finger and Starfire looked up.

"Thank you friend Raven."

Raven nodded shortly.

"So, Starfire," began Robin, "what's happened?"

"Oh Robin! It was horrible; I saw my cousin, Lamentre, and his comrades in the Tamaranian Guard being killed in a most terrible way! I fear that I am needed on Tamaran."

"You're going to Tamaran?" said Robin, looking stunned.

When he failed to say anything more Cyborg took control, "Yeah, and we're going with her."

Starfire managed a weak shaky smile in answer.

In amazingly short time, made possible by Cyborg's intimate knowledge of mechanics the submarine usually kept in a small pen underneath the Titan's tiny island had been converted into a space faring vessel.

Remarkably soon, the makeshift rocket was airborne. Moments afterwards it was space borne.

Of course humanity has no way of traversing the vast plains of space at the speed necessary to get to Tamaran from Earth within the lifetime of the average person.

Cyborg had come up with an ingenious solution to the problem. If the feat was physically impossible why should it be psychically impossible? Raven could teleport the ship across space in jumps taking minimal time.

Raven had welcomed the idea as a way to refocus herself after the confusion of the past week.

And so she found herself sitting in her small area of the "New Titanic," as the ship had been christened, with all manner of wires strapped to her skin. Neural grapples clutched at her temples, monitor cables ran down her arms and a metal bar encircled her waist.

"Okay Raven," came Cyborg's voice over the commlink. "Just a small jump to start with."

Raven closed her eyes, muttering her mantra under her breath.

She felt the power well up inside her, accompanied by a sensation of power and recklessness. Raven resisted it; all wrong roads lead to Trigon. Her hands tightened on their bars as the energy inside her rose to an almost unbearable level, bringing with it a daemonic hatred that marred any use of her innate abilities.

She released her hold and let the strength rush through her in an instant psychic discharge that sent the ship blasting out of existence and back again, overshooting the mark by quite a way.

In the next series of teleportations Raven refined her technique considerably.

So when the New Titanic reached Tamaran it materialised in high orbit, setting a course straight for the large space station.

Cyborg gazed out at the vast construction. Like all Tamaranian technology it was designed to be looked at as well as used. It took the appearance of a giant rose, seemingly made from solid rock and blood red in colour, it was an achievement completely alien to any on earth.

He spent a few more moments gazing at it then noticed the light playing around it.

Patterns of dancing green light crisscrossed the space around it, interspersed with balls of glaring white and great waves of purple.

" They having a firework display for the returning Princess?" he asked.

Starfire, Robin and Raven both replied at the same time, "No."

"Sensors are reading large energy discharges aimed at that station," shouted Robin, strapping his seatbelt and powering up the ships cannons.

Breathing in gasps Raven said, "There's anger, and pain, lots of pain." Her voice trailed of and she slumped in her chair.

"My comrades are dying!" shouted Starfire, her eyes glowing green.

The New Titanic swept forwards, passing once over the battle.

Then the newcomers engaged, Starfire flying out into the void and striking left and right with her fists and Starbolts. Beast Boy left the ship transforming into a giant creature that looked rather like a jellyfish. Cyborg took charge of the stun cannon mounted on a turret below the body of the ship and Raven projected a psychic shield around the ship as Robin sent them darting into the battle, muzzle cannons blazing.

The fire of Tamaranian passion for battle rushed through Starfire, the sight of nobles she had known like brothers from her time as Princess Korriandre fuelling it into as roaring inferno.

She charged into a group of robed figures. She landed her boot in the stomach of one and shot a Starbolt through the cowl of another at point blank range.

Three gathered together in front of her, holding out their hands and chanting in what must have been a shout but sounded like a whisper in the thin atmosphere.

Starfire ripped through them, green shrouded fists smashing them away with shattering blows.

Another one towards her preceded by a stream of pulsating energy. Starfire dodged it with ease and grabbed the hood of the enemy as he flew past, bringing her fist down on his with the force of a sledgehammer.

Royal anger shone from her eyes as she struck forwards to fight at the side of a tall Tamaranian warrior with wild hair and a crystal on his uniform that proclaimed him to be an archduke.

With the sword-swinging warrior at her side and the Light of the Chrysalis shining from her eyes she cut a massive swathe through the enemy.

Soon, with the assistance of the Titans, especially Beast Boy, who had stunned vast amounts of enemies in the tentacles of his new for, the enemy had been routed.

They streamed towards the rend in matter they had arrived from. But that rend was not stationary, it was moving slowly over the rose shaped space station.

Soon it had swallowed it completely and disappeared taking the space station and the ghostly attackers with it.

One day later, in the Royal Gardens on the surface of Tamaran seven figures sat around a table that seemed to be completely carved from a giant diamond.

Raven looked around at the gardens surrounding her. To her left was a solid wall of greenery made up of leaves of all sizes and shapes interspersed with bright flowers. Behind her was the royal patio, an expansive field of cobbles divided up by low hedges leading up to a castle that truly deserved the title "Wonder of a World." Then in front of her behind the tables and the Queen sitting opposite to her a set of terraces sloped away onto fields with a wide river running through them.

She turned her attention from the extravagant scenery to the monarch on the other side of the ovular table.

She was wearing purple Tamaranian garden robes, thin cloth intricately embroidered and inlaid around the cuffs and collar with gems. Her hair was red, red hair being a dominant gene among the royal and noble families of Tamaran. A small tiara perched upon her head, Raven could only guess at how much it would be worth on Earth, excluding the extra for being an artefact from an sentient alien civilization.

Her eyes were blue and strangely expressionless, Raven assumed that statecraft had taught her not to wear her emotions on her sleeve, despite the natural emotionality of Tamaranians.

She was speaking to them, as Starfire's friends more than as battle heroes.

Her voiced was velvet and full, and made everyone feel slightly sleepy.

Raven decided to listen for a while and see if anything of interest would crop up rather than the drivel that Starfire and her mother had begun the conversation with.

"Now, I have something more serious to say to you my friends," the monarch had taken to calling them all her friends rather quickly, "you came to Tamaran and helped us to defend our selves against an unknown evil, we are in your debt."

"Really, it was nothing," said Robin with the smile he always used when he said those words.

"Nonetheless," said the Queen, "we will present you with gifts as is customary and pledge our assistance to you in times of need."

Raven later learned from Starfire that debts on Tamaran were taken very seriously, and that there was a particular way of repaying those that you owed depending on the debt.

"Please my friends, come with me,"

She stood and led them, around the hedge behind her and around several corners in the green growing corridor up to another table.

There were four objects laid out on it.

The first was a staff. It was about the length of an arm. The metal was gold coloured and fluted, it looked like one of the flowers that Raven had seen in passing in the royal gardens. The ever-present gems that seemed so abundant upon Tamaran were inlaid around each end.

The Queen lifted it up and pressed one of the gems. The staff tripled in length almost instantly with a minute amount of noise. She proffered it to Robin who took it reverentially.

Robin thanked her profusely and Raven rolled her eyes. The Queen smiled and moved on to the second gift.

She presented it to Cyborg, it was apparently something that could create an interface between software from Earth and software from Tamaran, quite unsurprisingly it took the form of a crystal.

While she was giving Beast Boy his gift Raven turned her gaze on the sword obviously meant for her.

It lay within a black obsidian scabbard and had an ornate silver sabre hilt with a purple precious stone inlaid into the pommel.

The Queen lifted it from the table and gave it to Raven. She took it and drew the blade out of the sheath. Carved into the metal near the hilt were the words "Azarath Metrion Zinthos" in Azarathi characters.

Raven read them, then looked up at the Queen, "How do you know?"

"I can see it in your face, it's a special type of grace. I can tell by how you carry yourself that you come from Azarath," replied the monarch, her face suddenly shrewd and alert.

"How did you that Azarath existed?"

"A few survivors came to Tamaran after living through an ordeal they refused to speak about, after a while we learned more about them," was the reply.

After that the Titans spent two more days in the idyllic royal palaces on Tamaran before returning to Earth.

Across the endless gulfs of space the Templar expeditionary force was returning with its prize, but the Grandmaster didn't welcome it.

"No new land? No new farms? Slaves only? You have failed Commander; your incompetence has meant that the Masterful Plan will have to be undertaken when we are not fully prepared," he said to the commander of the group, his voice heavy with threat.

When he had finished berating the man he had him executed.

Then he ordered the preliminary phases of the Masterful Plan put in to action.

Uncounted light-years away, sleeping in her bed, Raven Roth shivered.