kopakanuvafan20: Thanx for the review. I searched around for this kind of story on the site but couldn't really find too many, so I decided to write it myself. Hope you keep reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia or anything contained therein.

The sun shone down from the open sky. A bright blue blanket lay upon the earth with a single burning orb embedded in its center. Its heat beat down upon the brown sands, warming them to the point of burning. Fires occasionally sparked from the ground, flaring up and then fading away. Here, in the land under the influence of the Fire Temple, traveling was very hard.

Only eight of the initial hundred refugees remained. What had once been a village was now a handful of travelers. It had been two years since the fateful day outside the Darkness Temple when the massacre had occurred. Without the obsidian armor worn by the army of Sylvarant, the people of the country were defenseless against the magic wielded by the Tetheallans. This had been painfully proven in the mountains.

As they had traveled through the temple of Shadow, dark thoughts had flooded their minds. The bleak environment had done nothing to assuage their depression. In was in this stupor that they had been accidentally run into two of the scientists. The mages had been caught by utter surprise, and their reaction was delayed. Still, they had managed to kill two of the leaders of the Iselian band before Kratos could silence them. Their magic gave them too great an advantage. Even fighting ten to two they had suffered losses.

To make matters even worse, it didn't look like the rest of the refugees would survive either. They had hoped to meet with people from Sylvarant at a small town located near the edge of the desert. However, when they arrived, they found that the entire village in ashes. A lone man lay dying. He informed them of what had happened.

The Tetheallans had attacked the village. Those who had fought them were dead; their bodies had been incinerated in the multiple "fireball," "eruption," and "flame lance" spells. The survivors had all been taken as prisoners to Meltokio. There, they would probably be either tortured or made to work as slaves in the castle. A few people had who had been severely injured had been left behind, mistaken for dead. All the rest of them had died of their fatal injuries, and as the Iselians finished talking, so too did the man.

It was with a grave silence that they had entered the Triet Desert. They walked in silence, conserving every ounce of energy. Their water supply, which they had replenished at the village, was now running low. It was a long trek to the Triet Oasis City, and it was looking more and more as if they would not make the journey. Everyday, they grew weaker. The sun would boil them during the day, and the cold winds would shear their skins off in the night.

After suffering the blows dealt by the merciless weather, the travelers also had to endure the threat of the dangerous desert creatures during the day. Deadly scorpions with barbed stingers and piercing claws scuttled around on their multiple legs. Bright green snakes armed with lethal venom slithered across the boiling sand. At night, the critters of the arid land would go and hide under rocks and behind the occasional cactus. However, that did not mean that the Iselians were safe. Bandits and robbers roamed the open expanse, hoping to find unfortunate people to stab with their poison coated dagger and steal money and food from. They lived a rough life in a rough place and made the lives of all those who entered their lands rough as well. Yet, they were still humans. While Kratos could slaughter endless amounts of scorpions and snakes, to kill a human was not the same. The Tetheallan soldiers had been able to use magic. He had been too preoccupied with trying to stay alive when fighting against them to reflect upon his actions, but these bandits were not the same. They were easy to kill. And they were human.

Trials followed the group everywhere they went, hounding them at every step. Still, they pushed on with dogged perseverance. As they ventured farther into the desert in search of the Triet Oasis, the conditions became worse. Three more people lost their lives. Two had been citizens of Iselia. The third was another of the leaders. Now, only two citizens and three leaders remained. Although they still held their titles, they had all been equal since their arrival at the Darkness Temple. It mattered not who was a leader and who wasn't. All that mattered was whether or not you could fight and survive.

Four people stumbled into the city of Triet. A young, twelve year old boy led them. His purple shirt and pants were covered in the desert dust. Blood stained his clothes and sword. What had once been a sheathe hung by his side, now nothing but a bunch of torn pieces barely held together. He carried on his back a person larger than him. Her face was haunted, her eyes open and unseeing. Her long, mahogany hairs flowed down onto the boys face, mingling with his similar colored ones. Behind him limped two men and a woman, starvation gnawing at their shriveled bodies. The people of Triet watched as the tattered band entered their city. The men and the woman barely made it in past the large walls before they passed out, dehydration taking its toll.

The boy, however, seemed to be possessed by desperate energy. He trudged forward, approaching the wall of spectators. His brown eyes implored them to answer his plea as he asked them for help. His mother was dying. His people were dying. He was dying. They needed help. They needed water. They needed food. His eyes beseeched them to help. Seconds later, he too collapsed and lay upon the cobbled street, eyes closed.

A month had passed since Kratos had come to Triet City. The people had been hesitant to help him at first, but once they learned that he was not from Tethealla, they seemed to relax. Four families from the city had decided to take the Iselians into their care. Kratos and Maria Aurion had been accepted into the house of an old man. He was willing to provide them with a home and food, so long as Kratos and his mother helped him around the house. Maria would do the cleaning while Kratos would often help with repairs or would go to the market place.

Although she would act as if she was fine, Kratos knew that his mother was suffering. What the cause or the problem was, hard as he tried, he could not discern. With this worry burdening his thoughts, The young boy walked into the open marketplace. He turned at the food store, exiting the stall after having his hands filled with vegetables. Turning around to go back to the house, he stole a glance at the weapon shop. Swords and shields gleamed from its glass windows. One of the weapons, a gleaming sword of good craftsmanship, was on a stand above the others. The store was trying to sell it out, it was being offered at a discounted price.

Smiling, Kratos headed towards the old man's house only to find him trying to hammer wooden boards on the wall again. It looked as if someone had fainted and fallen through his feeble wall once again, leaving their outline in it. Kratos was surprised at the frequency with which this would occur. He came back to him and handed him the groceries, taking the woodwork over from him. As he hammered the planks into the wall, his thoughts went to what he would do later that day. This was his final task for the day.

A few days ago, he remembered mentioning his mother's problem to one of the healers in town. She had said that she would see if she could decipher what was ailing her. As Kratos finished hammering the boards in, he turned and began walking towards the healing center.

The large building had a tall spire rising from the front. Its large, brown doors, made of wood, creaked open loudly as the young boy entered. As he closed them behind himself, the lighting dulled. Only thin rays of light, filtered through the colored windows, shone into the large hall. A door on the far side opened as a young woman walked out. She wore a cream colored robe and a hat covered her head.

"Hello, Kratos. It's good to see you again."

"Hi, Cacao. Nice to see you too."

"How's your mother feeling?"

"She's fine. I came to ask if you'd found anything about her illness."

"She didn't let me examine her too much, but from what I saw, it appears to be a very rare disease. It's caused when the venom of the desert snakes mixes with its dried counterpart that the bandits coat their dagger with. The disease is held in check by the desert's extreme temperatures, but when the victim recieves relief from the weather, the disease kicks in. I'm guessing she contracted it while you were traveling through the desert. It started developing once you came here because the house you stay in provides protection from the heat of the day and the chill of the night."

"What does the illness do? How can it be cured?" Kratos was desperate. His father he had lost. His entire village had dwindled down to five people in front of his very own eyes. He could not afford to lose his mother as well.

"As far as a cure is concerned, there isn't any that I can utilize. The only way of curing it would be to seek help from the elves of Hiemdal. I don't know if they will even let you into Ymir Forest, much less about whether they will help you. The effect of the illness only makes the matter worse. At first, it only causes weakness, steadily worsening over two years. After that, the afflicted person is sure to die within the next year."

Well. A bit shorter than the previous one. And finally, I have a review. That would be my first. Thanx kopakanuvafan20. Well, pls review.