This Year's Love

by fernnu

When Raven almost dies at the hands of a dream, she lies in intensive care. Can bb save her? How can he? Trigon finally comes to inherit his daughter's power and the TT must face him wo bb or rae R&R-summary sux.

11. Champion of Raven

This Year's Love

Chapter 11: Champion Of Raven

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Hi guys. I wish I could just apologize and get this chapter over with, but I feel like an explanation is in order for my long absence. I can't give any one, solid reason for not updating sooner. There were a great many factors that built up to my inability to write a decent update. Don't get me wrong, I have been writing all summer, but all that comes out is mediocre drabblings and disgraceful words that I wouldn't be proud to publish under my real name, or even my pen name. This year, in short, has been one of the hardest and most hectic in my life. Work and school and, yes, women, have just been a long, emotional rollercoaster that slowly burned away my creativity, until all I had left was the lingering memories of when my writing abilities were up to par. I wish I could go back to when my writings were inspiring and immaculate, but….it seems that I have been stuck in a rut for some time now. Regardless, it's still no valid excuse. I won't argue that my absence and seeming abandoning of my two stories was wrong, I must only beg that the few, if any readers, still enraptured by my meager abilities will allow me to finish my story and the message I am so desperately trying to relay through this piece of fan fiction. Please, I beg of you, to be patient, to be calm, and to be understanding. Make no mistake, this is, by no means, a call for pity. I ask for none, expect none, and wouldn't know what to do with it, should I receive any. Naturally, writers go through long expanses of time without inspiration, or with pain, and they are able to transform such adversity into beauty. I wish only to be that successful, and am slowly learning how to revive my latent talents in script. Again, please be as patient as you can. If you would like to flame me, insult me, disgrace me and figuratively "spit in my face," then so be it. I only ask that you do so with at least some semblance of understanding, before you light your torches and sharpen your blades. My explanation is vague, and for good reason, my life is secretive because one can never be too careful…all this is true. Never, for one moment though, lose faith that these words I slowly, deliberately type on this page are sincere. I mean every word and hope that my actions are forgiven.

With many blessings,

Fernnu

Barry.

p.s. This chapter is especially dedicated, not only to my faithful readers/reviewers but also to three very important people. The first is a wonderful girl named Katie, she knows who she is, for, although we haven't spoken in a while, always brings a smile to my sad face.

Secondly, to another beautiful girl who is named Victoria. Though I have also lost touch with her a little bit, her words, wisdom and just who she is inspires me non-stop and gives me great pleasure, whenever I speak with her.

Finally, and never to be forgotten or considered least of all, is Mortal Guardian. Though he/she has probably become so fed up with my long absence that this dedication would mean nothing, the guilt I felt in keeping this chapter and my updates from my readers, especially one who takes the time to send me private messages, kept me writing. Even when all I could get through was twenty minutes of solid writing, the thought that someone was expecting a good, solid chapter, kept me moving, however slowly, forward. For this and everything else, I thank all three.

NOTE:Forgive this history lesson. Its completely fictional from real azarathian history. But I needed to tweek things in my favor…

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:Prologue to the Scriptures of the COA:

Long ago, when Azarath was still a young land compared to her brothering mystical dimensions, a great and evil force spread across the peaceful land. A demon of another time and space had torn a rift into Azarath. Entering unhindered, the creature quickly lay waste to the farmlands and took the lives of many innocents around the surrounding area. The Great Circle of Mages desperately sought a way to banish the evil entity. Many young, ambitious wizards and magicians—still unknowing in the way of the more powerful magicks of the elders—had fallen to the terrible demon. Standing at a few inches above 13 feet, the red skinned and 3 eyed demon towered over its humanoid victims. All three eyes were an intense yellow with the third eye resting high on its forehead above the other two normally placed eyes. With a terrible mouth filled with sharp teeth, two pointed ears and black clawed hands and feet, the demon was impossibly strong, shot fire from his mouth, energy beams from his eyes and hands, and could control weak souls to do his bidding. He was seemingly impossibly strong, but, in retrospect would become one of the weakest entities to try to breach Azarath's protective shields. Because Anon-Sur, the terrible monstrosity was the first to plague the land, the denizens of the Azarath were taken by surprise.

:The History of COA:

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Huddled in a rag-tag circle within one of the last fortified castles housing many women, children and other peasants and soldiers who sought refuge from the terrible destructing force outside, the Mages were involved in a hushed argument. These 13 elder magicians and spell casters were the ultimate authority of the land and ruled and protected the land of Azarath since their first settlement in the mystical dimension.

"WE MUST use the power!"

Crying out, one very thin man with a wild head of white hair, robbed in a royal purple sleeveless robe, pulled at the white fabric that contacted with his skin. Underneath his outer coat, he, like the rest of his fellow elder peers wore long sleeved, white, skin-tight shirts. Glancing madly around at the others seated in the circle—their different colored robes did not distract him from the doubting look in their eyes.

"Please. What you describe is dangerous. To unleash…that…power…is unheard of. It must be saved for the true time." A nondescript old man in a red robe barely whispered as he pleaded his argument.

As the red-robbed magician barely finished, another elder, larger and heavy set, interrupted hastily. Save the bushy hair on his eyebrows, the orange robed man was almost completely bald.

"The Champion Power is one that must be absolutely assured and agreed upon before being released."

"When then Contius?" asked the purple colored elder to the larger opposing magician in front of him. "When shall the time be? When Anon-Sur has devoured our souls and burned our flesh?"

The man in purple, Axzura, who lead the discussion, watched as the other magicians listening, inhaled sharply at the profanely blunt statement.

The arguing would continue.

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Page 7

It had finally been decided. The ongoing hour of arguing had continued steadily in the small, dim-lit room. The bickering had finally stopped for just a moment, as the remaining elders sat in an uncomfortable silence. In the uneasy void of sound a loud roar erupted from outside the castle walls; muffled but still strong, the yell had startled many of the 13 elders left. Anon-Sur continued his relentless attacks on the fortress where they where held up at. Where all who stayed there knew it was only a matter of time until the fortified stronghold fell. Then….death would meet them—unless they implemented their unsteady plan. Standing up, Axzura cleared his throat before speaking.

"Brother Mages, I understand your fear to unleash the Champion power. I understand you are wary to lose the great art, but you must see the truth before your eyes. There will be nothing left if Anon-Sur is allowed to continue unhindered. Our magic is unable to stop this demon alone. Perhaps in tapping into the core power of this land, Azarath, our new home of peace…then we may triumph." He sighed wearily, the situation's dire possibilities seeming to draw out his aged features. He suddenly felt very scared, very weary, very tired and above all else, very foolish.

"When we started out, back when our own magician masters opened the rift and died to bring us to this place, we were left to fend and build a new nation for ourselves. We were young and foolish. We started out as thirteen apprentices to watch over thousands. As our powers, along with our thriving cities, grew, we incorporated more magicians and apprentices until, we ourselves, became Mages. We are still thirteen, through whatever twist of faith and fate, but we find ourselves again in the face of dire peril. The people of Azarath…our people, must be saved. They are the sheep, and we are the Sheppard that must lead them to safety from this horrid wolf's grasp."

Seeing the rest of the circle around him nod in final, grim determination, he continued.

"So be it, we are all in accordance. We thirteen shall call forth the power of Champions: The eldest power of this land that we found long ago, when our visit through the rift was the only course of action. We knew, even back then in our youth, the power of the land and magic held deep within this soil. It is for the taking for those in the direst need."

Pausing a moment, Axzura licked his dry lips as he spoke softly, more to himself than the others.

" I would venture to believe that this is one such time." Meeting each magician's eyes, he spoke his next words in a cold, determined voice.

"We are all in accordance?" when he received each somber nod of agreement, he continued.

"Have we picked the host?"

At that, Contius, the heavy set magician in orange and white stood and stretched from his cross-legged position on the cold stone floor. Looking down at the other seated elders and meeting Axzura's eyes, he sighed heavily and walked to a door, far-off in the room. Opening it and casting a hand out, a slight orange sparkle shimmered out from his outstretched fingertips and probed into the doorway. A moment of pause took over the room as every pair of eyes was on the doorway. For a moment, no one dared to speak. Then, surrounded by the sparkling orange shimmer, a young woman of only twenty years of age walked into the large stone room. Her hair was a dark blonde mix and her eyes, once vibrantly brown, were clouded over as if she was enchanted. Her face was set in a grim expression and she was dressed in a white cloak. Placing a hand on her shoulder, Contius guided the bewitched woman to the center of the circle. Once she was seated, facing the purple-clad magician, Contius retreated back to his cross-legged position in the circle. All eyes rested on the girl sitting in the center of the circle, the orange shimmering glimmers still surrounding her. Then, after only a moment, the eyes of the colored Mages fell once more upon Axzura.

After another small stretch of time where only the muffled cries of Anon-Sur broke through, he spoke. "Contius, remove the enchantments. She must agree on her own or all further plans will not succeed. Only her willingness can allow the powers to bind unto her."

Nodding once, Contius flicked both wrists as if to shoo away a pestering fly in front of his face. In an instant, the orange sparkles surrounding the girl vanished and so too, did the distant look in her eyes. Instantly she took a sharp intake of breath as if she had been struck. Shock reflecting in her eyes, the girl was about to speak when Axzura interrupted before she could do so.

"Listen girl….Aiala…as I remember your name well from your temple studies, not so long ago. Listen first before you speak. You have been chosen; I am both pleased and saddened, to be our savior. Before you doubt yourself or give reasons for not cooperating, you must first listen to what I say. You shall have a choice in the matter, I promise. For now though, please….we beseech you to listen."

When she nodded in silent agreement, the council let out a collective, silent breath as Axzura continued.

"As you know, Anon-Sur has been running unstopped across our land. We have lost many innocents and good men in the failing attempts to protect our land. We, thirteen of the Circle of Elder Mages, we…have run against a wall, so to speak. You see, our powers can not match the demon, even combined. There is, though, a way for us to provide a severe chance at banishing Anon-Sur, but we would require your assistance. We—"

"I'll do it."

The fiery attitude of the girl, Aila, surprised and interrupted Axzura. Quickly he regained his voice and silenced the girl.

"Speak not until the final words of my plea have been uttered. Then, and only then, may you decide your fate, understand?" When gaining her voice of acceptance to the terms, he continued.

"Foolish are those who take lightly matters yet to be explained. What we will ask of you may very well end your life. You see, there is a special protective magic that was founded when we first ventured through the rift of time and space. You were yet to be thought into existence and even had you been our age, your knowledge would never contain such facts. This power was founded by us thirteen you see before you. We recognized, even back then, that the power was immense and it would be needed in a dire circumstance such as this. Though some of us are…hesitant…to utilize this ancient force, we have all come to realize that if we do not use such power at our disposal now, then we are very well doomed to never live to see it used for another great disaster." Breathing slowly, he continued.

"The power is called COA, each letter representing a specialized word. It stands for Champion Of Azarath. The mystical complexities are far too advanced to speak of and you would, without offense mind you, get lost in the explanation. In truth, even with our vast knowledge of the power at our disposal, we know next to nothing of this awesome force and less of how it operates. To place matters simply, we would infuse you with this great power and you, in turn would become our champion. You would carry the great burden of all the people of Azarath's survival on your shoulders. But, from what we can understand, you would then be forced to face Anon-Sur alone. On the battlefield. And whoever wins shall be allowed to do what they wish. Should you win, you could abdicate the power or keep hold of it….if Anon-Sur is victorious, however, there is no doubt in our minds that the destructive force he would then possess would lay waste to this once-beautiful dimension. We know naught if it shall hurt or if you will even survive the fusion of power, but the host…the potential Champion must be in direct accordance and accept the position before we may even attempt at the fusion." He sighed again, feeling weak, weary and nervous at the same time.

"Now you may ask questions and we shall, in our best ability, answer them to our knowledge."

Seating himself back down, Axzura rested his sinewy hands on his knees and rested his eyes closed a moment as he awaited Aiala's response.

"How did you find the magic?"

Snapping his eyes open, Axzura was surprised that the question had little to do with her role in their survival plan. Still, he had agreed to answer every question, and so he did so.

"When we first arrived here, child, we found great forests, plains and oceans to greet us. There are still great mountains and rolling hills good for all things to start a thriving home world. There are enough forests for lumber and rock on mountains and coasts to mine. We use the stone to build our homes. When we first arrived, we were overjoyed to see such purity in the land. Though we had to start from the beginning in all things, the land was yet to be touched or blemished with cities or buildings. There was nothing prepared, save one solitary structure. We found to our great surprise, a pedestal in the middle of a clearing at the edge of the forest. We hastily ran to it in secret, so as to not alarm our fellow people who had such hope for this new land. What we found…shocked us. Upon the pedestal, floating in a glass encasement were two things. It was… they were…." Axzura sighed again, "Perhaps it better to show you, since, if you should agree to become the COA, then these items will be placed in your possession."

Clapping his hands twice above his head, Axzura along with Contius and the rest of the circle of Mages closed their eyes, leaned their heads back, and chanted as one.

"MACROS, COA, NETH'L BINDETH GRATH'L ZINTHA METORIO AZAR"

In a bright flash of light, where Aiala had to cover her eyes with her forearm, a small 'pop' sound came from where Axzura sat. Opening her eyes, Aiala was surprised to see a long intricate and beautiful black and white sword resting across both of Axzura's knees. In his hands was a pure white book with blue ruin symbols she had never seen, nor understood. On it, underneath the three symbols was a silhouette of a lone figure in black standing, legs spread and arms held above her head. She couldn't tell for sure, whether it was a man or woman, but whoever it was, grasped a sword above their head in a readied stance for attack. Aiala forced herself to breathe, as both the sword and book seemed to call to her, beckoning, beseeching, pleading…..

"Aiala!"

Axzura snapped his fingers in front of the mystified girl's face, effectively drawing her attention out of her reverie.

"Are you alright girl?" The old magician inquired again, worry drawn heavily into his deeply wrinkled face.

Shaking herself gently, Aila hastily replied. "Yes, sorry, it, they…startled…me. Please continue."

Giving her a peculiar glance, the purple magician continued. "Well then, you see, this sword and this book were the only things to rest on the sole pedestal. The sword called to us, much as I am sure it has started with you, though you fail to admit it, and do not have the necessary training to ignore their temptations." Not giving the blushing girl a chance to respond, Axzura continued on, patting her leg in a friendly manner.

"No need for embarrassment, we have all felt the lure of the power…ours is more strongly felt, if you would dare to believe it. But that is unimportant. The book is what is so strongly calling your attention. When we opened it, only one page held written scripture. At first, we knew not what it said; the ancient writing in celestial blue was alien to us. Slowly though, as if by an assured magic we have yet to understand, the words reformed themselves as if live serpents upon the very page. In mere moments, the once unintelligible text was as simple to read as a history tome."

"What did it say?" The girl's attention so strongly held in the recalling of the story, she failed to see the shared look of the elders as Axzura continued.

"Well…it is peculiar, for although I, for the life of me, could recite it just moments ago, from heart, can not recall a single word." He stared off into space for a moment, contemplating, though not at all surprised or worried. He knew of magical items and incarnated spells that caused spot memory loss for protective purposes. Licking his dry lips again, he blinked softly before continuing.

"In any case, it matters not the exact words or spelled writings on that solitary page. The message is still quite clear, though the exact wording is lost to me. It said simply that the magic within the sword and book, when combined with magic of sufficient force, like that of our own combined strengths, would unleash the power of COA, the Champion of Azarath. It is in this way that we decided the name of this world, for it was truly no decision at all. The book had already named the land as such. The page continued to describe the champion in being one, who in the direst of need, would be given to the power to stop madness and evil from befalling the land."

Axzura's words had barely left his chapped lips before Aiala's questioning curiosity interrupted the silence with another demand.

"Was anything else written?"

Once again surprised, Axzura puffed his chest in a slight show of indignation.

"Why yes, in fact, one other thing I can remember, though, these words now remembered are exactly taken from the text. It said: Once this power is used, he or she who commands it shall be given choice. Use and Keep or Give and Save. In each form, a change shall be made. The book shall record and be true in life—as word to scribe; this shall aide the appointed COA."

Aiala sat back for a moment as Axzura finished. She had barely registered the position she had been in: leaning forward in rapt attention. She tried to think rationally of her choices, weighing her options, but the call of the book and sword was clouding her thoughts and she knew, somehow, that the tugging urge to accept the power was not…completely…of her own volition. As if sensing the same thing, Axzura flicked his wrists in a complex rectangular shape in the air. With a final wave, the two mystic items flashed out of view, encased in a bubble of dark, shaded energy and floated up to rest high above their heads. Both items were effectively hidden from view.

"Now then," Axzura spoke, gaining Aiala's attention and breaking her fog of enraptured enchantment. "Any other requests?"

Now that the mad urge to grasp the power had subsided with the clouding of the artifacts, Aiala could once again think straight.

Thinking out loud, she began. "Elders…I have lived here my whole life. The lush expanses of land have been my home for as long as I can remember. This is my home and I care for it deeply. I have no love, no family anymore, for my mother and father have both died of sickness. And though I wish it weren't so, I am….alone. There is nothing for me here except the land I call my own—and it, along with my people, shall not survive Anon-Sur. Though I know that I may never be the same or even survive the fusion and battle, I declare now, in all truth and certainty in my own volition that…." Here the young girl paused, for she was both young in the eyes of the elders and afraid

"I accept your proposition and wish to become the COA; the Champion of Azarath."

"Child are you certain?" Axzura whispered, scarcely believing his luck. He hadn't, in all honesty, had complete faith that the girl would agree. She had been chosen, it was true, for her compassion and fiery attitude, both of which were needed for the transforming fusion…how he knew such a thing when he, at that very moment could remember nothing more from the text, he did not understand. What was that page? He silently asked himself, desperately trying to recall the words on the first page now forgotten. Quickly, he banished such thoughts from his mind, when her answer rang out clearly in the stone room.

"Yes."

With that one word, Axzura was filled with both fear and hopeful joy at the same time.

"So be it." As he spoke, the rest of the council stood with him. Following their example, Aiala held a nervous but determined look in her eyes.

Clapping his hands twice over his head, Axzura nodded once to his fellow magicians before summoning his magic. As each member did so in their own fashion, 13 different colored auroras filled the once dark dungeon room. Red, blue, black, white, purple, green, orange, yellow, pink, indigo, brown, grey and finally silver filled the space; respectively glowing in front of the colored mages.

Soon the glowing auroras surrounding each magician focused directly into their outstretched arms. Fingers open and palms out, they faced Aiala in the center of the circle, as the colored magic concentrations began to harmonize. Eliciting a glorious sounding hum, the power of the most able Mages in the land, gathered in their palms as blazing flames of colors. Shouting over the humming energy that threatened to tear the very fabric of reality in the room, the thirteen Mages spoke as one:

"AZARATH METRION ZINTHOS, FORNATH, LYSEILA NORTHIDEL FERIG TRESADAD NELISH METORIOS COA!"

Then, with words of their own native tongue, the mages finished their part in the incantation.

"WE WHO CALL UPON THE POWER IN DIREST NEED

AWAKEN THE LIGHT WITH OUR FIERCEST MIGHT

IN HOPE THAT IT SHALL HELP THE SEED

GROW TO BANISH DARKEST NIGHT

NOW IN THIS LAST, FINAL CHANCE

HOLD HOPE FOR CHAMPION TO ENHANCE

THE GOOD LEFT IN THIS FINAL CRUSADE

AND FOCUS POWER INTO THE BLADE

DEFEAT THE EVILS THAT WOULD FIGHT

THIS CHAMPION PROTECTOR

GUARDIAN AND SAVING KNIGHT

THE SILVER PALADIN SPECTRE!"

With the final strange spell spoken, each member of the circle screamed in release as each mage fired out an encompassing blast at the book that floated above them. Infusing it with a bright array of a flashing rainbow spectrum of colors—the book pulsated continuously. The thirteen Mages dropped their arms in tired exhaustion.

The book that had just taken the full might of the most powerful wizards of Azarath gleamed brightly as it stayed suspended in the air, a white aurora surrounding it. As the cover finally stopped flashing the different colors of power, the silhouette of the figure holding the sword became darker and more pronounced. Surging with energy, the black symbol shot forward and struck Aiala squarely in the chest. Doubling over with a grunt and hitting the cold floor, the girl momentarily lost consciousness. As she regained her senses and began to stand, the book above had wasted no time in changing yet again. This time the silhouette faded from view as the book took on an impossibly bright white color. As if to banish the darkness from the grim room it was held in, the book became a beacon of beaming radiance and, in one single shinning moment, shot through the air to hit the magical sword that had imbedded itself within the stone floor.

The sword that had speared the ground directly three feet in front of Aiala, now pulsated a strange silvery glow. Causing Axzura to hastily move backwards at the display, all were silent. The circle of tired magicians and Aiala were quiet in a stunned hush as the sword continued to pulsate its silver sheen.

Hesitantly, Aiala asked the question no one else dared to speak. "Is that…It?"

Suddenly, as if bidden by her words, the sword hummed with power. Glancing at it hesitantly, Aiala gasped as the sword lifted from the stone ground and tilted to have the tip of the blade point directly at her. Quickly covering the few inches between them left, the sword paused suddenly. Letting go of a shuddering breath, Aiala breathed out as the point stopped just millimeters from the center of her chest, just above where her breasts met. Just above the black silhouette tattoo now branded on her almost completely exposed chest, the sword tip scraped the flesh of her tender area. A miniscule drop of blood dripped onto the sword's tip as it just barely made contact with her skin. Her exhale barely lasted before the next bizarre occurrence took place.

As the small drips of blood traveled down the short length of the tip, the sword pulsated almost hungrily. When the crimson liquid's journey ended at the diamond-clear stone in the center of the tip of the blade, the next surprise took place. In a flash, a white beam of light shot forward from the clear diamond shaped stone that rested upon the blade, an inch or so from the tip. mixing with the drops of blood, the power surged into Aiala. Screaming as the beam of whitish blue light tore through her chest, Aiala trembled as her shirt was eradicated by the force. Unable to fall to her knees—the power holding her in place—the girl tried with desperation to block the energy. Had there been no pain, she would have felt embarrassment at being bare-chested in front of the thirteen, horrified men. In this case though, burning agony was all she could understand and feel. The tattered remains of her shirt gone completely, Axzura could now see the full meaning of what was happening.

The white light that was pulsating out from the stone at the tip of the sword was being released upon the area where the black energy from the book had struck Aiala before. He could now see that where pale and white flesh should have been, there was now the tattooed silhouette of the figure on the book burned onto her chest. The black figure's legs reaching down to just above her breasts and the tip of the grasped sword stretched to the middle of where her collar bone connected with a small dip. As the white energy met the black insignia, the silhouette began to change. Growing lighter and lighter, the black color faded to light grey. Then, as the white light continued, the grey color turned to silver. Throughout this whole process, the blonde haired victim stood erect. Her slender body was stretched out, floating a few feet from the floor, arms bent at her sides and fists closed; her face was contorted in pain and her eyes were clenched. Her mouth was open in a silent, desperate call for release from her burning agony.

Her eyes bled tears.

Standing straight a foot or so from the wall, she grunted as a powerful surge of energy shot forth and slammed her into the cold stone at the end of the room. The beam, once thin and wiry, grew to encompass her whole body. As she was bathed in the bluish white light, jagged flashes of hot black and yellow lightning streaked and tore through the air around her. Without warning, the beam of light emitted from the sword stopped. Losing the silvery sheen of power, the sword clattered lifelessly to the ground. The white aurora that had surrounded Aiala suddenly vanished. Finally free from the aurora and the beams of light and lightning around her, Aiala's bare feet met the ground.

Another seemingly endless space of time stretched on as no one dared to speak or move. Then, Axzura shifted away from his huddled position with his fellow elders at the far end of the opposite wall. Aiala stood with a transfixed look in her eyes, blankly staring into space. Taking a cautious step forward towards the girl, he had only crossed half the distance before he stopped suddenly with horrid surprise.

"Aiala….Are you…?"

He could not finish the sentence for the full extent of what the power they had unleashed upon the poor girl finally became evident. Only the pitiful tatters of her skirt remained to barely clothe her most intimate of places. The white cloak, sandals and shirt she had been clothed in had been destroyed in the blast of power. She stood almost completely naked to his eyes.

"Aiala…Are you alright?" finishing his previous demand, Axzura hesitatingly reached a hand out to grasp her lean arm.

"Do not touch me."

Her words, the voice coursing with tones of power evident to the experienced wizard, made him pause. Casting a hand out, Aiala opened her palm slowly. The sword, suddenly, lifted from the ground and flew into her hand. Grasping the sword, she closed and opened her eyes, truly, for the first time. They were both clouded over completely; leaving no iris or pupil to stand out. The whole of her left eye was black and a void of darkness, while her right was the brightest white. Her other hand lifted up to touch the now shinning silver insignia scarred onto her chest.

Instantly, the girl who once was Aiala…the girl who Axzura now recognized to never be the same again, opened her mouth to speak.

"Touch me not, for I have yet to be contained."

Tapping her free hand against her chest twice, while her other held the sword with ease, as if it had been a feather, she walked to the center of the room. Allowing her aside, Axzura moved away to give the girl space. Standing back in the center of the room, her lips muttered incantations that even the mages did not understand; she closed her eyes.

A powerful thud sounded as the force of magic was called by that slightest blink. When her eyes opened, they were neither white nor black; instead they were shining: cold silver. Arching her back and angling her head to look up towards the heavens and stone above her, she closed her eyes again, eliciting the same thud of magic in the air. Opening her mouth again, she spoke, this time clearly.

"Protect me…Guard me…Knight me…

Give me strength so that I may give strength.

Protect me so I may protect.

Guard me so I may guard.

Armor…come unto me."

Bringing her free hand away from her chest to help grip the sword's delicately and finely crafted handle, she tilted her head back to rest in a normal position. Holding the sword perfectly straight so that the thin edge of the blade faced out to the mages huddled in front of her; she opened her eyes.

As soon as she did so, the sword once again hummed in anticipated force, as the split black and white hilt began to bleed its color out onto Aiala's firm grasping hands. The separated black and white colors slowly traced their way up her forearms and over her shoulders and chest. Spreading down to her stomach, waist, crotch and down to her legs, feet and back, the black coating covered her whole body first. Seconds later, where Aiala had, for one moment, been encased in complete black, save her head, the white counterpart to the black magic followed suit. Overcoming the black liquid that stretched over her body, the white equivalent covered her for only a moment before it flickered from black to white…

…Once, twice, three times, before changing again.

With a small flash of light, the black and white that had once covered Aiala had transformed to shinning silver. Instead of the liquid appearance of the black and white—this silver armor that covered every part of her, save her head, was metallic and glossy. Azure and sapphire rune symbols that matched those that had rested on the book now covered the silver protection that had enveloped her. Besides the ridges of the rune signs, the only other disturbances to the otherwise completely smooth armor were the joints for her arms and legs, and her chest plate, which was slightly convex in shape to allow space for breathing.

Axzura could feel the immense power radiating from the sword and matching armor that Aiala now possessed. A glimmer of hope flickered within him.

"Aiala…Have you fused with the…power…?"

Regarding him with an almost startled expression, as if she had forgotten all about the thirteen men that still resided along with her, she responded.

"Yes."

"…And…well…are you ready to fight Anon-Sur?"

"…Yes" her minute pause before responding gave her a chance to gaze at the colored magicians before her.

"Fear not, I shall defeat the demon." Her voice still holding the deadly tones of barely contained power sent shivers down Axzura's spine.

Blinking again, Aiala flicked her head up and to the side. Her blonde hair, once disheveled, had been magically straightened and rested down the back of her solid armor. Spinning the sword with ease in her right hand quickly, as if for warm up, she brought both hands together to hold the sword high above her head in an exact image of the silhouette that had been on the front of the book and that was now scarred forever upon her chest.

She parted her lips and spoke one final time.

"Burn through me, oh great raging wind. Fly through me fury. Blind my eyes in pain. Bind my soul in eternity!"

And with that, the final echoes of her voice reverberating in the cold stone area, her sword hummed with fierce energy. The celestial blue veins on the blade pulsed out, as if sending blood throughout the weapon. Each ruby and stone glowed with intensity and in sync with the matching blue symbols upon her armor.

The clear stone at the tip of the blade darkened to one of uncontrolled fury….

…And the room exploded black.

The clear stone at the tip of the blade brightened to the color of pure compassion….

…And the room exploded white

Then, the clear stone at the tip of the blade flashed twice before changing once again…

…this time casting the sheen of righteous, determined rage...

…And the room exploded silver.

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It had been an hour or so after his revelation that Beastboy could actually read and understand the strange language, that he was interrupted by a soft, cute snore and snuggle from Timid beside him. He had began to decipher the book's meaning and at first had been reading it out loud to her, but with Gar lapsing into long stretches of rapt silence, they decided that he should read it alone. Well, in truth, it wasn't a decision at all. Timid, too shy to interrupt one of his longer silent moments led her to become sleepy and, surprisingly fall asleep peacefully. Though she would be embarrassed beyond belief when she was awoken, for now Gar was content with the beautiful emotion curled up beside him.

Glancing down to the purple haired girl that had fallen to lying on his shoulder and hugging his left arm, Gar smiled. He couldn't imagine anything or anyone wanting to hurt her.

But Trigon did. Her own demonic, evil, destructive father wanted Raven…his Raven…dead.

It seemed almost unreal that he was in a mental library in Raven's mind while her demonically, awesomely powerful father was holding her emotions at ransom. While he was no doubt planning a way to flush Gar and Timid out of the library stronghold or just content to wait them out, here he was—reading of all things. Beastboy knew that Trigon had time, energy and the upper hand in the situation all on his side and would be content to wait for a little time if it meant torturing the two of them with anticipation. Thankfully the book kept his mind from that bleak image…at least for the moment.

Like he said,

Surreal.

Sighing heavily, Gar reflected on what he knew, though he still was so confused as he wistfully stroked Timid's hair lovingly.

First off, all the emotions that Raven had save Timid where in Trigon's hands.

Secondly, her emotions gave her power, so in a way Trigon had all her power.

Thirdly, Raven was unconscious in the real world and Gar had no way of waking her up—there or here.

Fourthly, they were stuck in the library while Trigon was—without a doubt—assembling hundreds if not thousands of demonic hell hounds, warriors and god-only-knew what else. Taking a step back, he smiled bitterly to himself. 'Check that, definitely not god.'

Of course, getting back on track with his little list of things that were going on, he couldn't forget the fifth thing left to ponder. This champion thing. Reading the Scriptures of COA, as he had found the title of the ancient book to be, Gar had learned a lot from the book and had started to really see some important facts come into the light before he was interrupted by Timid's innocent sleeping form. The girl, Aiala…she seemed to be the first champion of Azarath, Raven's home world. The things he still didn't understand, though, outnumbered the few details clarified. How could he be a champion when he didn't have the sword, the armor or any magician wizard dudes to help him? How could he be a champion of Azarath if he wasn't on Azarath or even from there? Obviously Aiala had beaten Anon-Sur, apparently a lesser demon than Trigon, and hopefully the book would retell and show how she had bested the evil being…but besides that, Gar was lost. When he had read the part of the story about the first page in the book, Gar had flipped back to find it clean and white, as were all the other pages, only completely devoid of any ink.

Thinking back to the story, another question popped up. Those words:

"Burn through me, oh great raging wind. Fly through me fury. Blind my eyes in pain. Bind my soul in eternity!"

Aiala had spoken them, and so had he, now recalling back when he had first faced off against Trigon, or at least the demon he had possessed. That was of course before he had died and been taken by the mysterious woman that had told him to search for this book, keep hope, and that his mission was not only suicidal, but would end with his death, one way or another. Shaking his head to stop his tumbling thoughts focus on his death, Gar squeezed his eyes shut and banished such ideas from his head. Now was not the time.

Tapping his chin with one hand, Gar pondered desperately to uncover any other question that had been left unanswered...well besides what he still had to read…and of course the most obvious recurring question of how he was too transform into this COR, which he had painstakingly taken the time to figure out what it stood for. In truth, the realization came to him when he read enough of the book and history. If COA stood for Champion of Azarath, then COR could only mean Champion of Raven. Still, things did not connect. How could this supposedly, impossibly strong power shift from being for protecting the land to protecting one person. And, once again, how the hell was he supposed to awaken the power like it had in Aiala?

Sighing again before reemerging himself in the story, he squeezed the bridge of his nose comically, trying to avoid the headache that was slowly coming to him. He wasn't made for reading, unless it was video game instructions or strategy guides. Still…for Raven…he would do it. Squeezing away the image of Aiala bare-chest and feeling a slight blush find its way on his cheeks, he paused. He didn't understand, nor realize until just this moment, that as he had read, detailed scenes had come to his mind; playing like a movie. The detailed images in his mind of what had happened—were just that. Images; the visions that came to him were far too detailed for his simple mind to come up with on its own. Guessing that it was something to do with magic mumbo jumbo, Gar tried to shrug it off—in his line of work and being exposed to Raven as he had been—magic was rapidly becoming a normality. He also realized that the book was a history of the power and sword in the painting. Glancing up at the image, it still brought out an echoing, beckoning call to Beastboy's soul. Beseeching him to come closer…filling him with longing….

Pushing the desire for the dangerous weapon away, his eyes returned to the page that he left off on. Gently kissing Timid's brow, careful to not awaken the sleeping emotion, he smiled slightly, before immersing himself once again in the story—determined to find the answers still lost unto him.

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Page 19

Axzura's limp body met the cold stone wall with a loud thump and then slid to the floor with a heavy impact. His breathing escaped from his tight lungs in ragged breaths. Desperate to get the air that had been forced out of him with the fall, he steadied himself as he lifted his head from the ground. Regaining both his senses and his breath, he squeezed his eyes closed, and then opened them, at the sight before him. After Aiala's powerful and stunning transformation, the room had exploded silver. The force of the power sent all the elder mages flying into opposite walls. Gazing out, he just barely glimpsed a silver, floating form, jettison out of the room, from the door she had entered. Quickly moving to his feet, he checked on his brethren mages, only to find them all unconscious. A loud roar and then cry of attack sounded from outside, as he checked on the other wizards of Azarath. Seeing that none were seriously hurt, he wearily cast a spell of increased healing over the fallen magicians. Taking another steadying breath—for he was still exhausted from the minor spell and the major incantation he had helped to create—Axzura ran as if on fire, out the door.

Another loud roar echoed.

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"She fights without pause, without fear and without words…"

Of all the thoughts tumbling around within Axzura, as he silently watched the battle from atop a vast wall of the castle fortress. Standing out among the crouched citizens who also came to witness the battle that ensued above, Axzura almost smiled.

Almost.

Above, Aiala….or perhaps, her true name was simply the Champion or COA, now after her metamorphosis, flew with powerful surges of silver power, as she circled the great demon, Anon-Sur. The enraged demon flapped his scarlet wings madly, as he fired shot after shot of powerful energy blasts at Aiala. Dodging when necessary, she, for the most part, seemed unbothered by the attacks that Anon-Sur launched against her. After blocking a powerful blast of flame from the monster's gaping jaws, Aiala rushed in, both hands gripping the silver and blue sword, and swung.

The blade, intent on slicing straight through the monster's neck, instead came into contact with Anon-Sur's powerful grip. Having blocked the blade, narrowly from beheading him, he sneered. Grinning with evil intent, he fired a stunningly powerful burst of power from his third eye, straight into Aiala's chest.

Hitting her squarely, the blast knocked the sword from her grip, and she plummeted speedily into the ground below. Landing with a loud thump and forming an indented crater at where she hit the hard ground, Anon-Sur gazed down upon her with a laugh. Still clutching the sword, the evil entity flipped it up, high into the air. Focusing his third eye on the sword, he fired an even more intense shot of power at the weapon, intent on destroying it. The yellow beam came into forceful impact with the blade and sent it flying into the ground below, a hundred yards from Aiala.

Laughing at the unmoving form underneath him, the demon slowly descended. His feet meeting the ground, he glared at the mages who had just regained consciousness and rejoined Axzura. All stood with mouths agape in horror at the defeat of their champion. With vicious and sadistic pleasure, Anon-Sur emitted a horrible laugh that shook the weary watchers to their bones. They knew, once the evil creature disposed of their champion, he would move to them. And all would be lost. All was lost.

Turning back to the girl now directly underneath him, Anon-Sur, still smiling sinisterly opened both his hands, to the side of him. Gathering slowly flickering yellow energy in both palms, he closed his eyes in delicious rapture of the expected blood to come. Blood and life to quench his never-ending need for death.

So caught up in the expectation, he failed to realize the sword that lay behind him, slowly rise up, or the fact that it had slid down to the crater, where its master lay, and fitted itself firmly into her hand. Nor did he sense her eyes suddenly and without warning, open, with intense fury. Not until, of course, she took the mighty sword and plunged it into his chest.

That, got his attention.

Opening his eyes once again, his blood red pupils straining, Anon-Sur let out an enraged cry of surprise and agony. Not wasting anytime, He brought both hands together and combined the energy gathered into one force, and shot it straight at Aiala. Fully expecting such a move, the silver warrior sprung out of the impacted earth and away from the yellow blast, in one fluid motion. Just missing the blast, she flipped out from the crater and landed a dozen feet from where Anon-Sur still stood, surprised and enraged, with the gleaming blade imbedded in his chest. Filled with hate and pain, Sur gripped the sword and, with one powerful pull, disengaged the sword from his torso and threw it far into the sky, behind him.

Without a word, Aiala watched her weapon arc into the sky. With a deadly look in her eyes, she grimly cast forth her hand, fingers outstretched.

Without hesitation, as if with a life of its own, the blade finished its trajectory: stopping in mid flight and arcing back to imbed itself once again, into Anon- Sur. Not stopping and flying straight through the other side of the demon, while pulling with it a large chunk of his torso, the blade continued to travel. The astounded and mortified mages, and even Anon-Sur, still in shock and pain, watched as the sword flew through the sky in another wide arc. Its flight gliding through the air so violently that the very air groaned with the high pitched whistle of it slicing through the atmosphere. Finding its way into the Champion's hand, she flicked her wrists, once the blade was securely in her possession. Surging a small flow of power into the blade, it pulsated silver and celestial blue combined. Glowing for only a moment, the weapon returned to its previous form, free of the black blood and crimson remains of the demon skin that had littered the mastered edges of the sword.

"SHALL WE FINISH THIS?" Aiala's voice cut through the few feet separating her from the evil entity; her voice cutting the air as much as the blade did. Strong and full of power, her voice carried out across the land, despite the normal tone she had used. Magic and malevolance were both to be combined this day...

Enraged, wounded, hurt, but far from defeated, Sur flew through the air, claws outstretched with a roar. Opposite her, now only a foot from the demon, Aiala's hair whipped out violently backwards, as if some violent wind had blown by. But, the air was deathly calm.

Her power surged into life.

This was it, life and death, death and life, love and hate…..Rage.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

With a powerful erupting burst of energy, the silver champion shot forth to meet the terrible evil entity before her. Gripping the blade loosely, she gave it a deft twist and flick right before meeting the wounded demon in the air. Righting the sword quickly, her movements a blur of speed, Sur had no time to react before a dozen or so quick slashes came between the two opposing fighters. Anon-Sur, now demonically enraged by this, shot a yellow strand of energy at Aiala. The weakened demon was no match for the silver being attacking him though, and the beam barely flickered on impact with the flat edge of her magnificent blade. Giving a good kick into Anon-Sur's chest; to open the space between them, Aiala floated erect in the air as they both paused. The hesitation of just those few sparse moments was enough for Anon-Sur to blast Aiala with a wash of hell fire from his gapping jaws. As the fire burned all around the Champion—erupting in liquidated flames, Anon-Sur, despite his wounds, laughed a sickeningly vile, jackal-like laugh. Victory seemed to be close, if not already assured for the evil demon. The order of mages and the few innocent civilians watching in horror below gasped at the seeming defeat of their very last hope. All seemed lost, once again, until…

"Demon, I grow weary of this."

In a powerful proclamation, Aiala, the Champion used her sword to slash away and fan the smoke that had surrounded the now dead flames. She stood, levitating over the scarred earth, without any signs of pain from the last attack. Anon-Sur, shocked at such an obvious display of power and still suffering his severe wounds, stood immobile for a moment, before powering up another energy beam in his gruesome hands. Before he had finished charging the beam of energy fully, his silver target had disappeared. Without giving him a chance to search for her, Aiala reappeared to the demon's left and, with one fluid strike, slashed both massive arms from Sur's demonic torso. Screaming in agony and growing fury, Anon-Sur turned to fire another blast of hell fire at The silver guardian, before she, once again, disappeared.

Wordlessly, Aiala rematerialized a dozen feet from the arm-less evil. Pointing her sword point directly at her opponent, the protector of Azarath was focused completely in grim, righteous rage. Shouting out an incantation of strange origins, Anon-Sur had no chance to defend himself, as a metallic, silvery-colored beam shot from her sword and struck the evil entity ahead of her. The contact of the energy force on demonic flesh caused a blinding explosion of utter blackness. The force of such strong magic and energy being released caused those who stood transfixed, to cover their eyes and ears at the loud explosion.

When the light had finally died down and the smoke cleared enough for the citizens remaining to finally see, the scene shocked them completely. There stood Aiala, strong and tall just about to touch her delicate silvery boots on the scorched earth. In front of her…was nothing but ashes of the demon. The crowd was silent, without weeping or shouts. Neither excitement nor sorrow was felt among the masses of people who had hidden from the evil, but still saw the terrible fight. The whole of Azarath had taken a collective intake of air; a breath that all were hesitant to let out, lest the whole universe crumble. Collectively, Azarath and all its citizens stood still…

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The cliff hanger must stay, I apologize.

Forgive me

Fernnu