hellos once again! oh, i am in a good mood... hope you are too, people of my story reading. also, if you feel up to it, review, as it increases moral and the probability of faster new chapters uploaded for your possible enjoyment. its a symbiotic relationship we can both enjoy... hopefully...read and review and feel however you want about my words lined up in story format!

Chapter 4

Thoughts swirled through his mind. Thoughts laced with frustration and self-disappointment. He couldn't bring himself to accept how badly he had failed. In a matter of seconds, he was incapacitated and would be dead now were it not for a jealous husband. The past was too frustrating to laugh at.

He had been so sure, so confident in his abilities, that he hadn't considered the level of his opponent, assuming that she'd be as easy as the last. Never again.

He looked up, at the face of a statue, a physical representation of a god long dead. His gazed then took in the expression affixed to his mask laying on the marble floor before him. He contemplated the effects of faith in a warrior, how it could make one a stronger fighter. How one who had faith in the long dead is stronger than one with faith in the material.

Whatever the effects of faith, he made a decision.

As he knelt before the statue, creating in his mind a figure of his master in its place, he took the knife strapped to his leg. He held the blade to his chest, internally vowing that he'd never fail again, that every enemy between him and his goals would fall. That his dreams would come true...

Chills ran through his body and mild as he vowed. Chills and... something else stirred in his chest. A feeling he'd never before experienced ravaged his body, a feeling beyond the emotion or the spiritual, bordering on the physical. The feeling grew and spread until it filled him, and still it grew and spread. Leaving him to believe that he was more than what he was before. The pain that had irked his body was replaced with a burning need, the need to do. To do all it took and more, to fulfill his goals, to make his dreams come true. It was amazing, he felt like he do anything as he opened his eyes to the world and seeing it in ways he'd never considered before. From a new angle that revealed facets never comprehended, never considered, never imagined.

He looked down at his hands, unfazed by their emptiness, his eyes aflame with wonder and ambition and malicious intent. He looked up at the statue before him, as he unblinkingly re-dawned his former expression. Momentary consideration was given to his lost weapon as he continued to look into the marble eyes. His grinning countenance, examined the statue, a white marble creation holding up a golden sword as if to fend of the impending attack. Without doubt in his ability, he took hold of the handle just above that hold taken by the statue. With ease he made the blade his, and quickly disposed of what was still attached to the blade, marble hands still greedy for the gold. The blade, far too heavy for most, was like a twig to him.

He looked back to the mutilated statue, amusedly finding its new condition more fitting to its position in the minds of the people. People who once looked up at this same marble with faith and love. In fact, its state was too good for the dead, he decided, and without further consideration it was reduced to rubble. And he laughed, for the first time since his goals were found on the horizon of his soul. It was uncontrollable. Confidence and belief, faith and ambition flooded his mind, and a voice was heard. A voice spoke to him, a voice so much like that of his master. It told him of his need, his need to grasp his dreams with both hands... by whatever means attainable.

"Yes," he replied out loud as he stalked the halls he'd just passed through, no, not him. That cowardly dog couldn't have possibly been him. The gold blade split the marble tiles on the floor as he walked. Purpose and intent filled his actions, an intent that was left unsatisfied as no one was left in the temple. All were hurrying to the town where the woman lived. They'd not taken lightly Tira's words. No doubt, it would be some time before they came back.

From the top of the stair, made by 'gods', he could see them, husband and wife on horseback, riding frantically home. Unaware. Unaware of his new gaze, his new point-of-view, his brand new look on life. They wouldn't even know what hit them.