Darkness. Always darkness. Sometimes it was his ally. Other times it was his enemy. But all times that she was there, him holding her, touching her, never having the pleasure of kissing her, it was always because of the darkness. It made him wonder if she wanted to be held by him, touched by him, give him the pleasure of kissing her. And he continued to doubt until there was no more darkness.

All he saw before him was bright light. And her. She stood there, smiling at him, with what he pictured as perfectly white teeth. Her rosy lips taunted him as she bit down on her lower lip, grinning nervously. She was nervous. Her? Nervous? Caleb never would've believed anyone to say such things had he not seen for himself. "Sleepy boy," she spoke softly.

Then suddenly she was in front of him, one hand caressing his face while the other intertwined her small fingers with his larger ones. "Angel," he mumbled. Fire red hair blocked his view of her face, but he was sure she was blushing. Blushing as bright a red as her hair. His free hand clasped around hers, gently resting on his neck and she looked up. He smiled shyly at her, leaning down and pressing their foreheads together. "Do I ever get to know your name, Angel?" "But you've already picked a new name for me. Why on earth would you want my real one?" "Do you not want my one? I've only named you because you did so to me." She scowled at him, as if upset that he had won such a small argument. Though it wasn't really an argument. It was playful. Everything about her was playful and teasing if not scared or confident. Her lips teased him the most as they pursed and she put on a look of thought. Before she'd even have had time to realize, he would've captured those lips hungrily with his. He would've kissed her with a fire brighter than her hair, sent shivers down her spine. He wanted to. He would.

He leaned down further, noticing her distraction was his advantage, and felt her take a sharp gasp. "What are you doing?" she breathed. It wasn't a whisper. Too airy for that, too disbelieving. "I'm giving you another name," he muttered, lips gently brushing against hers—

Caleb twitched, groaning loudly as he woke up, yet again with a pounding headache. It was starting to irritate him that all he got from valiant efforts and many tirades, was a smack to the head and a migraine. He wriggled his finger, brushing them across the ground. It was smooth and cold; stony too, meaning he was most likely indoors. In the castle, if he recalled correctly. "Get up rebel." Yep, he was in the castle.

Squinting, he opened his eyes to harsh light. Images danced together; so fast that they blurred into a mass of colours before his eyes. His body felt heavy, almost too heavy to move, but he managed. His senses were blocked; dulled and he despised the feeling. It was horrible how pathetic he felt without his sight.

Slowly, the colours separated until only a mass of dark grey and pale blue lay in front of him. What the—"Hey! Get off!" He yelled, his voice sounding ridiculously loud to his own ears as two hands gripped each of his arms and hauled him to his feet. Chains clunked together and metal bolts ripped into the flesh of his wrists, causing them to burn as blood trickled down the chains like water, lighting them with colour. Vathek's frowning face met his with a glare, explaining the blue in his sight. Looking to his sides, trying to understand the grey, he saw four thick skinned Lurdens; the disfigured and mutilated creatures of the Prince. As ugly on the outside as he was on the inside. He snarled at them, disgusted by their touching him, but his attention was drawn back by Vathek. "You'll see the Prince now," he stated, showing absolutely no emotion whatsoever. But in his eyes, Caleb could see an apology hidden in their depths.

His mind was discombobulated, shaking him, and he had barely registered the statement when he was dragged into the throne room, the toes of his boots digging into stones and trying vainly to stop them pulling him. Cedric was standing to the side, grinning at him when he lifted his head and Caleb did the polite thing. He smiled back at Cedric, bowing his head in mockery before he looked up and spat at his face in greeting; feeling beyond delighted when the blonde figure recoiled from the wad of sputum coating his once cocky expression. "REBEL SCUM!" The beast roared, wiping the substance from his eyes and face before rubbing it off his chin. "Show some respect to your superiors!" The snake-man, now in human form, stormed across the room, a cold hand raised to slap Caleb as he was forced to his knees by the Lurdens. "I'll teach you some respect you little—"

"Cedric! Stop. We mustn't harm our guest."

A chuckle, of the oddest kind, brought Caleb to look up at the throne to the shadowed features of the Prince; flawless skin and bright blonde hair, almost white. Deep maroon robes gently embraced his body, seeming huge and wrongly sized as they swayed in an empty breeze, moved while he laughed. Cedric grudgingly strode back to his place, his own navy and green high-collared robes swishing, as Vathek kindly introduced him, "The trouble maker, my Prince." Caleb grinned as he looked upon the Prince who merely muttered a disappointed and disheartened, "oh". Did it really hurt him that much that it was Caleb who had attacked the castle? Nah, he was probably too glad that Caleb had been captured, by Cedric of all people, to even worry about him attacking the palace. After all, each side had its Lionel, though Cedric was a far worse one than the original.

"My apologies Phobos," a perplexed expression crossed Cedric's face as he muttered this. Though he understood the intrigue. No rebel apologized to the Tyrant. "Had I enough time to use my sword, I would've gifted you with a purse upon my capture." The moment it clicked, Cedric glared at him, hissing as the Prince laughed. But Caleb didn't. Yes it was true disrespect, and he would've laughed, if it weren't for the sharp and bitter cackle of the Prince that sent shivers down his spine, chilling him at his core. "How lovely. A man with wit," he stood, shadows still cloaking him as he slowly walked down the steps of his throne. Caleb was certain by the tone of his voice, another thing he had learned to read, that an eerily calm smile, now unamused, rested on gracious features. "We have need for a man of wit in the palace. Perhaps you wish to join us, rebel." Caleb shook his head, glaring at the unseen face with frigid eyes. He would never desert the rebellion. "Well if you do not wish to join us…you fled to escape the war?" Another head shake. "Then why run, rebel?" "Because Lizard Lips here was chasing me." "He chased you because you attacked my home. There is a harsh punishment for trespassing," he stated with a renewed humour in his tone. Home, Caleb mused, how can a fortress and prison seem homely and welcoming to him? "I will not betray the rebellion," Caleb retorted, not missing a beat. Missing that beat would've showed hesitance, something he felt none of.

Light crept in through a gap in the door and struck the Prince directly, hitting his face and illuminating blinding blue eyes that radiated anger. "You will give me the names of you associates!" he roared as he sent Caleb crashing into a pillar with magic. "You will learn nothing from me!" Caleb growled, spitting a mouthful of coughed up blood at the man's feet. Phobos had expected him to submit and give him the names of his allies. But he would do no such thing. They would have to spell him for him to tell them anything of the rebels except what they already knew. That the rebellion would defeat Phobos' forces and raise their heir to the throne. The Prince's nostrils flared with rage as he ordered Caleb be taken away. "Put him in the oubliette! He may rot for all I care!"

****Rebel Fire****

The oubliette was a large hole in the floor of the dungeons, reserved for those who angered Phobos to the point where jail was too kind a punishment. It was forty feet down with smooth stone walls that followed the curve of the circular opening and had a dirt floor littered with old chains and the bones of former prisoners. It was quite rare for someone to be put down there and the Prince often forgot about them, purposefully or otherwise no one knew, but he left them to starve. A person was slowly lowered down into the oubliette by a large bird cage and when the floor collapsed, they then fell several feet until they hit the dirt. Of course, Caleb thought, most people never got jeered at by the guards.

"That's right rebel! You're going down there!" Vathek stood with the guards in his simple grey trousers and dark brown jacket that almost seemed out of place amongst the guards' armour. "Be careful traitor," he called, throwing a piece of bread to him through the bars, "there won't be a second serving." And with that, he was dropped from the cage; falling until he landed flat on his back in the dirt, staring at the opening above him with an aching head and dancing gaze. It seemed all he did in the past few days caused him headaches and head wounds, ever since he met that girl. Maybe it was to make him as crazy as he sounded for liking her. Or maybe it was to warn him that she'd make him crazy. Or maybe he was reading too much into it and all the smacks to the head were just because he was reckless. For whatever reason, his blurred and now familiar sense of vision was fading into the darkness again.

When Caleb awoke, he found his vision was cleared. A munching sound that grew ever louder had stirred him and was now merging with the echo of steady footsteps. Someone had been placed in the oubliette with him. It surprised him that one of them was not killed or punished. But that is quite like the Prince, he mused, he'll let us kill each other before he'll allow either of us the gift of food. "Mister okay?" a voice croaked, sounding strangely frog-like as something slimy and…furry?…poked him. "Get off of me!" he spat, swatting the hand away and jumping up from his place on the ground. He stared at the green creature, like a frog with hands and legs in short camouflage green cargo pants and an orange zip up sweater with a child's back pack. A passling.

"Pretty boy fall from hole! Stuck with Blunk," he jabbed a thumb in his own direction before grinning as Caleb reluctantly nodded. He was stuck. And he most likely wouldn't get out. "Blunk and boy be friends!" His eyes widened as he forced out a bitter chuckle. "No way. I'm not here to make friends." Caleb slowly let his eyes climb the wall for him, envisioning every step of his attempted escape. The stones that made up the walls were smoothed flat, meaning there weren't any ridges or edges for him to cling onto. But there were a few gaps in the wall…maybe he could—Before he had a chance to doubt himself, Caleb leapt up on to the wall, his feet finding small holes to bury the tips of his shoes into while his chained hands roamed the rocks, looking for grips. "Won't work. Blunk already try." "Well you're not me, passling," he snarled. "Blunk try three hundred seventy two times." He countered. For a passling, he was still unbelievably clever, Caleb had to concede that much. Though there wasn't much else he could say except that he smelled worse than the sewer. "Well—Argh!" Thump! "Urhh…crap!" he groaned.

In the distraction, he'd fallen back onto the dirt. "Told so." The green creature teased merrily, laughing. Blunk lifted his hand, offering the bread that Vathek had thrown at the rebel. "No thanks. I don't plan on sticking around for dinner, if I can help it." Blunk snorted. "Dinner gone. Boy sleep for long time." The bread was offered again but he turned away, scowling. He would've been shot for sleeping instead of trying to escape if he was still with the rebellion. But he wasn't. He was in a hole, in the palace dungeons, with a passling. "Urgh!" And a key.

~Several hours later~

"How many tries is that?" "Thirty two!" The passling chirped. Caleb had unlocked the cuffs from his wrists hours ago. The pain had been unbearable for a while, but as he ignored it, he began making more and more attempts to escape. But Blunk was right. Even if it was Caleb, there was little to no chance of escape without a rescue. And a rescue team would not be sent for a while. The only rescue they'd get would be from the Guardians. Meaning they'd be here a while.

Metal clanking against the stone snatched his attention and looking up; Caleb saw a large birdcage blocked out the little light that entered the oubliette. "Goodbye child!" The same guards that had dropped him in spat out. And then a body was dropped from the cage; screaming. They were much further up in the oubliette then he had been when he was dropped; further from the ground. In anticipation, he stood stick straight, digging his heels in and holding his arms out. He couldn't let them fall and hurt themselves.

And the second he caught them, he was glad he hadn't. Two warm hands wrapped around his neck, electricity shooting through him as his eyes prick with unwanted tears. Brown orbs stared at him as two words gently pass his lips, a glow of happiness coating each. "It's you."

****Rebel Fire****

Bright cinnamon brown eyes stared at him dreamily as soft and light brushing fingers roamed his face, making sure he was real. Caleb couldn't blame her. His own fingers carded through her red locks, feeling a fire as bright as her hair burning within him at each touch. He almost didn't believe that she was here, that she was with him again. But she was. And the fire was proof of it. Proof of her. That here in the bottom of a dark hole, cradled in his arms was her; his red headed Angel.

His eyes took in every inch of her. From her rosy lips, flawless tanned skin with contrasting long and dark lashes that carefully curled around her windows, to the fiery red locks streaked with highlights of gold and pale blonde. And her eyes. Her eyes were the most amazing shade of cinnamon brown, warm and welcoming with the oddest specks of sky blue, opium red and sun-kissed yellow that all mixed together to just stare at him with gentle familiarity. It unnerved him; the colours, but now that he'd seen her and knew every colour in her eyes, he couldn't imagine them any other way.

Gentle. Everything about her seemed gentle; soft. Her voice had promised gentle beauty and it had kept such a promise. She was warm and gorgeous and soft and gentle and…perfect. Caleb's dreams and sketches, his musings, couldn't compare to the raw beauty; completely untainted by enhancers or magic, untouched by make-up, that she held.

"Angel…" he breathed, watching equally tan eyelids close over her orbs. Her face was expressionless, a perfect porcelain white canvas ruled by an empty expression that refused the paint of emotions. "Sleepy Boy…" His eyes flashed, and he stared at her for a moment, wondering if she'd actually spoken before her eyes opened and her lips twitched upwards in a half smile. He returned the grin whole-heartedly. He was unsure if she was happy to see him up until the twitching of her lips. And even the slightest reaction of pleasure in their meeting, made his heart pound against his ribs. He didn't know what he felt for her, but he knew it was strong. Strong enough to rebel against a rebellion if need be.

"I was wonderin' when I'd see you again, rebel." She chirped. Her hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he cradled her. Throughout their whole staring match, he had never felt the need to let go. He didn't want to. It seemed like an awful idea and her sudden closeness, warmth, took away any pain he'd felt; numbed it to the point where it disappeared; it didn't exist. Caleb flashed a wink at her, something that had brought women to their knees, but was impressed when she merely returned it with her own playful wink and smile. "I was wondering if I'd ever see you again. You still have to explain hitting me in the face." Her doe eyes widened as she gave a look of faux innocence and whispered quietly; "I didn't hit you, you walked into my fist." He chuckled good-naturedly and nodded, pinching under her knees and causing her to squirm. It was technically true. But she had intentionally put her fist there, and Caleb's ego would not lose this argument. "That's bullshit," he mumbled, setting her down on the dirt-floor but never releasing her. Instead his hand travelled to her waist while the other brushed some stray red tendrils behind her ear. "You know I never got your name…" he trailed off, hoping to get her to jump in but frowned as she shook her head, giggling. She pulled away and playfully scowled at him. "I won't tell a stranger my name." She tutted at him as he spun around, hands fisting his hair. "Urgh…girls…My name is Caleb. That any better?" "I don't know," she cocked an eyebrow, slowly raking her eyes up his body with intrigue. "You're still pretty strange."

"Blunk strange too, girlie! Wanna see?" Caleb cursed, about to give out to the passling for interrupting when the girl, surprisingly, screamed; jumping into Caleb's arms and burrowing her face into the crook of his neck, as his arms protectively wrapped around her on instinct. He supposed she thought they were alone. And as she wasn't facing the passling, she couldn't see how harmless they were. "Relax," he hushed, feeling her shaking against him. Suddenly she wasn't like the girl from the clearing; she was the girl from his dream. She was scared. "He's only a passling. Perfectly harmless."

Calm radiated from her and she slowly seemed to relax in his hold so it was more like hugging, something he himself had never experienced. People didn't hug Caleb. They attacked him or praised him. Both of which, most frequently occurred when said person was drunk. He wondered if she had been hugged before, if she had had a nice childhood with loving parents who hugged her every day, who told her she was beautiful and that they would always love her. He was sure she had. Because what parents couldn't love such a girl? Hot breath fell against his neck as light lips brushed the skin and a head lolled onto his shoulder. Sparks jumped around in his veins and his heart skipped as adrenaline was pumped through him. No girl had ever made him feel like this. And, he supposed, no girl ever would. Not if he had his way with her. Not if he got to do all the things he dreamt of with her.

They seemed to stand there for hours, hugging. Blunk had gone to sit on one of the few rocks that lay scattered across the bottom of the oubliette. But he still watched the scene with uncanny attentiveness. Caleb's fingers gently carded through her red locks, one arm wrapped around her shoulders; allowing him to finger her hair, while the other was holding her waist, pressing her to him. She was still hidden in the crook of his neck, but he had come to the conclusion that she just liked hugging him; feeling protected, and hadn't wanted to move yet. He understood the feeling. He didn't want to move either. He loved having her so close, her wanting to be close. His eyes were slowly closing and he considered sitting down against the wall before he felt a sharp tug in his head. He winced as his arms began to burn and she pulled back to face him. She slipped out of his arms, backing him against the wall and running both hands to his arm, yanking his jacket off and abandoning it on the ground. Tentative hands touched his flesh, avoiding doing anything painful to him as they danced around the skin. Her eyes locked with his and she whispered softly, softer than the rain or the wind, the one thing he had never considered happening to him; "You've been marked."

****Rebel Fire****

Irma's radiant ocean blue eyes surveyed the almost empty Silver Dragon; the Lin family restaurant where they now sat. They being the Guardians and former Guardian; Yan-Lin, the air Guardian Hay-Lin's grandmother. A feeling of dread and blame had settled in her stomach ever since the incident at the portal. There was something about the boy; the scepticism she saw in his eyes, the rage and irritation. It was how Irma acted when she was presented with something that was supposed to 'solve all her problems', but it was really a piece of semi-decent junk given to her to make up for her being screwed over. The appearance of such a look in the boy's eyes made her severely doubt herself and the Guardians. If a stranger knew who they were and was from the land they were told to save, and he doubted them so much, how would the rest of the world react to them?

Her eyes raked over the only four people occupying the restaurant other than herself and she focused on distracting herself for the time being. Hay Lin sat sketching, the fingers of her free hand playing with the ends of her pigtails, while Taranee was beginning to fidget with the table cloth and a fortune cookie, changing between the two every so often. And the Queen Bee; Cornelia, flicked her blonde locks over her shoulder, complaining to Yan Lin, who was refilling their glasses with ice-tea, about how the older woman had failed to show the blonde how to use the crystal. Yan Lin was being a hell of a lot more patient than Irma would've been, which had long ago earned respect, but today it irritated her. But she merely tuned everything out; trying to think of the excuse she would throw at Taranee so she could hang back and speak with the former air Guardian.

The young water Guardian; the jokester and smart-ass, the supposedly ignorant girl, was confused. Misunderstanding perhaps? But what Yan Lin said, or implied, about the Guardians was still eating away at her. She wanted to know if she was right, if her suspicions were correct. And quite frankly, the water Guardian wanted to know why Taranee hadn't picked up on it as well. The genius brain-child hadn't thought of such a thing, seeming far too scared of the new world unveiled to them to notice. Or maybe she had and merely felt too timid to mention it? For whatever reason Taranee hadn't noticed the woman's slip up, not that it mattered much, but Irma had and she wanted answers.

"What did he look like?" Cornelia smiled coyly as Yan Lin spoke, no doubt about to break into song about how cute the boy was, but Irma cut her off. "Well he was so—" "Weird! He didn't even try to get Lizard Lips off of him. It was like he was a rat accepting his fate to die," she swooned falsely, grinning at the blonde giving her a death glare, "so heroic!" Yan Lin shook her head and gestured to her granddaughter, drawing the two fuming Guardians' attention. "He looked like this," Hay Lin handed her the sketch book and Irma's eyes widened. She hadn't noticed, but the youngest had drawn the snake-man, formally gifted with the nickname Lizard Lips by a rather smug Irma. The four girls watched as Yan Lin's face lit with recognition. "This is Lord Cedric—" "Lord?" the water guardian coughed, hiding a snicker, "They certainly have low standards for knighthood over there." Hay Lin cracked a smile, but hushed her and Irma's eyebrows knit together. Since when did the young girl hush her? Hadn't she learned telling Irma to do something resulted in the opposite? "He is not always in this form," Yan Lin explained, motioning to the sketch of the snake. "That's good news for his wife—" "Irma!" Taranee snapped. The dark-skinned girl stood up, knocking her chair back with enough force to send it flying to the ground as her fists slammed into the table, knocking over a glass. "This is serious!"

Irma frowned, knocking her own chair back as she stood up, glaring intensely at her friend. Fire seemed to dance on the frames of her circular glasses, reflected in the lenses as two piercing dark eyes glared back at her. "Don't you think I know that?!" she rebutted. Of course Taranee did know she understood. Whenever they were in a difficult, dangerous or troublesome situation, Irma cracked jokes. Some were awful, but others got a fair deal of laughter. It was just her way.

It was her way of defusing the tension of the situation, making everything easier to deal with; allowing people to experience one of her power's qualities; clarity. It was just how Irma did things; how she did things that Cornelia didn't do. Things a leader would.

"Hey Irma, you comin'?" After a long lecture about friendship and how the Guardians would only ever have each other, Taranee had apologized. Though it did help some, Irma was still hurt, irked. Her friend had started being a lot more hot-headed since they discovered they were Guardians. It wasn't something she liked. "Nah, I need to steal some cookies before I leave," she replied, a shy grin on her face in her attempt at looking innocent. It was a lame excuse, true, but it was one that Taranee was sure to believe. Irma was a cookie monster; anything to do with cookies grabbed the girl's attention. She was most likely going to believe that than Irma was staying to ask advice about boys or staying the night. Surprising? Yes. The fire Guardian chuckled, waving her goodbyes as she walked down the road and into the night. Now she could finally speak with Yan Lin alone.

Hay Lin had gone upstairs, wanting to get changed for bed, completely unaware of her friend downstairs with her grandmother. It was perfect. Yan Lin was busy cleaning and clearing tables, making sure everything was spotless while Irma casually leaned up against one of the red poles that supported the ceiling. "Mrs Lin…"she addressed politely, "I have a question—" "About the Guardians?" Her back was still turned to the young girl, allowing Irma the opportunity to appear frustrated. How could she say it? It wasn't exactly about the Guardians. It was about something missing that affected the Guardians. "Well…not exactly…it's—it's hard to explain…" The Grandmother turned around, leaving her cleaning products on the closest table and pulling out a chair. She sat down, gesturing for Irma to follow suit. "What flows through that mind of yours, child?" The Guardian sighs, leaning her head on her hand and letting out an annoyed sigh. "When you talked about the Keeper and the Guardians, you made it sound…different…to how we are. Like the Keeper and the Guardians were separate; four Guardians of the elements and a Keeper—maybe I'm wrong or I misunderstood or something but I—" She cuts herself off at seeing the older woman's brow crinkle and her head subtly shake. "No, Irma, you are correct. The Heart of Candrakar, it belongs to the Keeper, not a Guardian of the elements. There was only one case where it belonged to a Guardian before your generation and that was mine."

"Cassidy was the water Guardian, like you Irma. She was child-like and funny, always teasing and cracking jokes. She was incredibly intelligent though not many noticed," Yan Lin looked pointedly at Irma. She was obviously telling her how she saw it, "but she was best friends with the Keeper; Nerissa. Cassidy was the strongest of the Guardians and when Nerissa became corrupt with power, Cassidy was chosen to possess the Heart of Candrakar. But in turn, the still corrupt Nerissa killed her for both betraying her as a friend and taking the power of the Heart away from her." Irma gasped and Yan Lin looked at the girl sympathetically. She understood she had scared her, but Irma needed to understand everything, know everything that she could offer. Though she was a joker, and appeared lacking and a slacker, she was just as intelligent as Taranee if not smarter. Placing a wrinkled hand over Irma's one, she continued. "The Heart is never possessed by a Guardian unless the Keeper is corrupt or undiscovered. Cornelia is not meant to lead you or have the Heart. It does not belong with her. It did not choose her to be its Keeper." "Choose? What do you mean?" The water Guardian wasn't any less scared by what she'd learned, but she knew that this knowledge was important; a warning for the future. And even though it was confusing, she was determined to learn all she could. "The Heart chooses its Keeper; a pure of heart person with undeniable leadership abilities and bravery. That, Irma, is why there are five Guardians. However, the Heart will settle with one of the Guardians; the strongest, but that does not by any means make them your leader. In my generation; Cassidy was the strongest, in yours; it is Cornelia."

The girl's face scrunched up, brow furrowing, as she struggled to understand. Yan Lin flicked her nose, snapping her out of it to look at her with a half-hearted glare. "But the Heart works for—" "It only works for Cornelia so you can find the Keeper. The fact that it allows her to hold it and use it, means the Keeper is alive but unknowing. Either that or she's protected by magic. But either way, it is the Guardians' job to find their leader, Irma. It is your job to get the others to find her." Yan Lin glanced at a clock hanging on the red walls, noticing the darkness outside the windows. "It's time to head home, Guardian, but if you have any more questions, come to me." Irma nodded, thanking the woman and standing, walking towards the door with her hands jammed into her jean pockets.

She had just reached the glass doors, shoving them open when Yan Lin called out. "Oh and Irma!" The caramel brunette turned to face the woman, glancing at her over her shoulder. "Just because Cornelia has the Heart and is the strongest, doesn't mean she is a leader or any better than the rest of you. She lacks your talents child, and the others cannot provide them to aid her. Earth is dirty; full of bias and mud. Water holds the clarity you will need to find her." "But when will we find her?" Yan Lin smiled at her softly. She was exactly like Cassidy. A knowing glint in her eyes, the woman replied, "Soon, little River, sooner than you think."