Chapter IV

Emily looked cautiously around a column. It was night, and the moon shone once more brightly upon Atlantis, and once more the young Lady Pitchiner was sneaking out, careful to avoid the few guards on duty. Two men were standing at the front portal, talking quietly to each other. Neither looked in her direction, so Emily snuck to a window, which had a large branch just outside of it. With one last look back, she jumped onto the branch, and climbed down the tree, hardly making any of the leaves rustle on her way. She slipped into the shadows, and headed downhill to the boathouse.

Her mother had been rather upset with her father, when he'd given Emily her own catamaran, but Kozmotis had assured her that Emily would only be allowed to sail when he was there to teach and watch over her. Of course being a child, Emily was inclined to break this rule, and every now and then would sneak out in bright nights like this one, to go sailing on her own. At first she'd capsized a few times, daunting to her inpatient young mind, by now however she could handle it well, though nearly not as well as her father.

She opened the boathouse doors, and pushed the thankfully light vessel into the water, removing the small wheels from beneath the twin-hulls. It was truly a beautiful night, barely a cloud in the sky, and little wind, enough for her to sail with, but not so strong as to have her fight for control. As she picked up speed, Emily followed the coastline, steering towards a reef not far away. Even from a distance one could see a light from under water.

And suddenly there was a school of fish beneath her, their individual bodies glowing dimly like little stars, but together they looked like a yellow flame. Mesmerized Emily watched them, lying flat on the catamaran's network. She reached out with a hand, and as soon as her fingers touched the water, the fish fled, hiding between the rocks of the reef ahead.

Emily waited patiently, until the fish showed themselves again, swimming away from the reefs. Hastily she got back on her feet and took the ropes. The sail moved into position, allowing her to follow the light beneath the waves. They were fast, and with the little wind there was, Emily had trouble keeping up. When they reached shallower waters, the long, slim fish, started jumping like flying fish, now surrounding the young girl at all sides. The silence of night was suddenly broken by the sound of splashing water and Emily's joyful laughter, and soon time was all but forgotten to her.

…

Hours later, a completely in saltwater drenched Emily ran back from the boathouse to the mansion. Like back in the dead of night, she hushed through the trees' shadows to an accessible window. Thankfully there was still little activity, and the guards were now tired from their long, uneventful shift. On light feet, Emily sneaked back to her room unseen from shadow to shadow. She had to be in bed before Zoe would come to wake her, and the sun was already starting to show itself. Quickly she slipped into her room, closing the door quietly and…oh. Her mother was sitting on her bed, arms folded in front of her chest, looking rather displeased. "Well then, young lady." She began, calmer than expected, though with anger at the edge of her voice. "And where have you been all night?"

"Morning, mother." Emily said sheepishly. "Just out for a stroll."

Did she need to raise an eyebrow like this? "With a catamaran, perhaps?"

"Perhaps."

Sighing heavily, her mother stood up. "The reason why I didn't torch that thing, in the first place was because your father assured me you wouldn't be sailing it while he was away."

Nervously, Emily had begun to rub her hands, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "But it's going to be weeks before he's back, and I can handle it really well now."

Amina took her daughters hands into her own, and crouched down to her eyelevel. "Emily, the currents out there can pull you to the open sea. Have you any idea how dangerous that could be, especially when no one knows where you are?" Inquisitively, she looked directly into the girls eyes.

"I know, and I always stay close to the coast. I have read most of the charts father keeps in the library." She tried to reassure her mother. "I've learned about the nearby currents, and where I can avoid them. Please let me go sailing."

"I don't forbid it, because I want to punish you, but to keep you save, and one day when you're older and more experience you may sail alone again." She stood up straight again. "For now however, I will have the boathouse locked, and for last night's trip you will stay in your room. There will be a guard at your door, and I have Thymos make sure you won't take any of the horses."

No! Emily's eyes widened. "Mom!" She was about to start protesting, but her mother wouldn't have any of it, raising a hand to stop her.

"No arguments, Emily. If you won't listen to words, you leave me no choice. Now wash up, and put on something clean. Breakfast is in half an hour." With that she left the room, the door falling soundly shut behind her.

For a moment Emily looked after her, still a little shocked, before letting herself fall unto the bed. She was angry at her mother for punishing her, and angry at herself, more for being caught than anything else, though the longer Emily thought about it, the more a twitch of guild crawled up in the back of her mind. If only her father was back home.

A few weeks later, Kozmotis had returned to Atlantis. Just the day before, a hawk had carried a message from Ombric, to visit him upon arrival, so the general took a detour to the sages' guild on the palace grounds. Five tall towers, and a small building connecting them all, surrounded by a garden, was home to a little over a hundred sorcerers and sorceresses. The Archmage was awaiting Kozmotis down in the dungeon, where despite the name no prisoners were held, but experiment conducted. Ombric's study was a small hall, the fine-grained sandstone along with the lamps giving it a surprisingly warm atmosphere. There was desk at the far side, loaded with scrolls and a rather heavy looking book, as large as a man's upper body.

"Ah Kozmotis, so glad you could come." The elder wizard welcomed him, as soon as he'd walked in.

"My pleasure, Ombric. Lord Lunar."

The young man next to Ombric bowed politely. "High General, it is an honor."

"Such unnecessary formalities; were among friends here." Shalazar noted his voice excited and merry. "Now, the reason I've called for you is that I have a gift, something I'm sure will be most useful in your continuing fight against the shadows. Badr, would you be so kind as to get it for me?"

"Certainly, Archmage." Tsar Badr went to cabinet, and returned with a most exotic weapon he needed to carry with both hands.

Certainly surprised Pitchiner took it. "A scythe?" Kozmotis motioned the weapon in his hands; the shaft wrapped in white leather to ensure the hold, ending at the blade's center, which itself was almost as long as Kozmotis was tall and curved, the metal shimmering silver in the light. The darker metal of the shaft seemed to have run around the blade while it was still liquid, metal twines reaching from it to both halves of the blade, merging everything together. Runes had been carved into the upper part of the blade, where it was dull, some Kozmotis recognized from other enchanted weapons. He was surprised how light this one was despise its size.

Ombric looked rather pleased with himself. "Yes, a unique weapon, first of its kind, excellent for several enemies at once, and as I understand, you've lost your liking for your sword the other year."

"Undeniably." Kozmotis replied grimly.

"I also added a new spell, something we've been working on for quite some time." The wizard continued. "Well, frankly ever since the war started, and I will admit it is not perfect yet."

"I trust the weapon will not incinerate or blow up in my hands?" Kozmotis questioned, suddenly alarmed and uneasy.

"Oh no, of course not. I would have never given it to you in that case. No, this weapon has an enchantment upon it, which is capable of not only killing shadows, but extinguish them utterly, without a chance of return."

For a moment Kozmotis was sure he'd misunderstood the wizard. "Excuse me?"

"A powerful spell, tricky, and as I've said not flawless." Ombric began to explain. "Otherwise I'd be outfitting your soldiers already. No, sadly the spell upon striking a shadow drains one's own energy. The student who volunteered to test it found this out the hard way."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes, yes, no need to worry. But he was unconscious for a few weeks."

Kozmotis frowned, eyeing the scythe. "You gave me a weapon I cannot wield in battle. Forgive me if I fail to see the sense in that."

"The spell must be activated by speaking a brief incantation, and is deactivated by the same words. Aside from this, the scythe will deal with Dream Pirates just like your sword."Ombric reasoned. "I'd advice to use the spell only in desperate situations, or outside battle."

"You want me to execute prisoners with it?" There was shock and a hint of disgust in the general's voice.

For the first time that day, the wizard's voice turned grave and serious. "As honorable as your position is, and as much as I support it, Kozmotis, the Dream Pirates are not human. I believe an exception here is acceptable."

Feeling uncomfortable, Tsar Badr looked between Archmage and High General, the latter appearing to be rather conflicted on this matter. "I kill in battle because I must, but I'm no executioner. A small difference to someone like you, Ombric, and I can see why, yet to me it's defining, a line which I do not wish to cross, unless I have absolutely no choice."

"It is of course your decision, Kozmotis. I was merely voicing my opinion. I hope I didn't offend you."

Kozmotis seemed more relaxed now, smiling again. "None taken, I assure you, and my thanks for this weapon; I'm sure it will serve me well."

"Of that I am certain. In the meantime we will attempt to perfect the spell…which reminds me I have not given you the incantation yet. I've written it down for you." The Archmage went to his desk, and began to search between the scrolls.

While Ombric looked for the piece of paper, Tsar Badr spoke with the general. "Lord Pitch, Ombric has told me that your daughter is now tutored by the guild as well."

"Yes, for little more than a month now. She seems to have a greater potential than her parents. I myself needed about fifteen minutes to ignite the candle, when I was tested." He remembered and shrugged.

"Have you received any training?"

"Basic lessons, but the Sagittarius soon put me on their ships; and it seems to have worked out quite well for me."

Tsar Badr chuckled. "Indeed it has." He said just as Ombric returned.

He handed Pitchiner a small scroll, sealed with wax, the Atlantian tree upon it. "It's a small incantation really, but you best have it memorized." The wizard told him, and then smiled again. "Give my regards to your family."

Kozmotis nodded. "Of course Ombric, Tsar. Divines bless you."

Chrysos cut words into his wax tablet, as his mentor prepared spices in a mortar. Over the past year the young priest had encountered several shadows within the minds of people, all of them children, and it was greatly troubling him. Silently he wondered how many other children were being haunted, where he could not help them. The thought made him cringe. As he was finished, Chrysos turned the tablet around and knocked with the pen against the wooden frame.

Eusebios looked up from his work, and read the tablet. "No, I don't know why they seem to haunt children so exclusively." The priest put the pestle aside. "It worries you, does it not?"

Chrysos gave him a questioning look.

"Yes it troubles me too, if that's what you're wondering."

The young novice wrote something under his initial question. Did the gods send them?

"I don't believe so." Eusebios admitted. "If they did, then why give you the power to vanquish them, why allow it?"

A test maybe.

"A test you would have already passed, if it was one. I may not be blessed as you are, my boy, but even I can sense their presence, the sudden fear that grips your heart, as if nothing in this world could lift it again. Those shadows are certainly not divine. Whatever they truly are, whatever is sending them out to those children, they are enemies of our gods." The priest concluded, stroking his beard as he talked.

What if there are people being haunted, who cannot come to us for help?

"It is unfortunate but there is little we can do about it. Perhaps there are others like you to aid those souls. Focus your mind on your work here, Chrysos. It is to this temple that we belong."

Chrysos wrote no reply. As much as he loved and respected his mentor, staying here while people suffered, people he knew he could help, bothered him greatly. Besides, he was no one, who could take over the temple when Eusebios would eventually die; he could hardly speak the rites and the prayers and frankly, he didn't like the prospect of remaining in this temple for his entire life. Chrysos didn't know yet what he would do, or when, but he wouldn't follow into the old man's footsteps as much as Eusebios wanted him to.

The sorceress Melinoe had been chosen by Ombric to tutor Emily. The first lessons with her bored the young girl, as they mostly consisted of quiet meditation, but it gave her mother time to draw something she had requested. The sorceress herself displayed great authority and grandeur with her presence alone. Her face was stern but not unkind, showing first signs of age, silver lines running through her raven hair. The robe she wore was of a dark blue, with silver ornamentation along the borders.

Lady Melinoe taught Emily in the library, and they had made themselves comfortable on some pillows on the floor in order to meditate. Emily kept her eyes closed, sitting there cross-legged, getting more fidgety by the minute. When could she move again?

It seemed like hours had past, when the sorceress spoke. "That should suffice for today." Finally; Emily opened her eyes again, blinking at the sudden bright light. "It is time for you to put your skills to practical use. A simple spell, to focus your energy."

"A spell?" Actual magic; this day was getting good.

A ghost of a smile played on the sorceress lips. "Yes. It will create a small orb of light, which we refer to as a Wisp Light. It only serves illuminating purposes, and though for some sages it looks like a small flame, it is quite cool. Now, while you summon it, your mind must be focused on light; not just what it looks like, but what you feel when the sun shines upon you, or you light a candle." Lady Melinoe explained. "Without this focus the words are meaningless. Try it."

Taking a deep breath, Emily closed her eyes again. She thought of the warm light of the sun, soothing and comfortable in the winter, burning hot in the summer, and the soft, comforting light of a lamp flickering in the night.

Her mentor spoke again. "The words you speak are solas làmh. Fold your hands and hold them close to your lips, when you speak them."

Emily did as she was told, and as her fingers touched her lips she said. "Solas làmh." Maybe her pronunciation was a little off, but she felt something running through her finger, like there was suddenly more blood in her blood vessels. She opened her eyes, a saw a brief flash of light between her fingers. Excited she looked at the sorceress.

Lady Melinoe. "A good enough first effort, but you need to keep trying. You likely focused too much on the words, drawing your attention away from what truly matters."

And so Emily tried again, and again.

…

Amina looked up from her drawing board when her daughter came running in; the two of them had made up just last week, and keeping her word, Aemilia had not run off again…for now. Right now she was sweating but clearly happy, a bright smile on her lips, spreading over her face. "You've never been this happy after a lesson with Lady Melinoe." Her mother noted curiously.

"She finally taught me a spell."

"That is wonderful."

Her daughter nodded excited. "Do you want me to show you?"

"I'd love to." She assured her, putting aside the board and coal.

Aemilia folded her hands together and lifted them to her mouth, then she whispered a few words, Amina couldn't quite make out. There was suddenly a soft light coming from between her fingers. She opened her hands, and a small orb of pure, soft white light, with just a flicker of green floated over her palms, like a miniature sun, though it did not hurt the eyes, when looking at it.

"It is beautiful." Amina praised her. "And to imagine that neither your father nor I have ever gotten really past the initial tests."

"So I'm already better than you and father." She said rather smugly.

Suddenly her mother narrowed her eyes, mimicking Kozmotis' mischievous smile rather well. "Keep making remarks like that, and I'll give you your father's nose." She said nodding to the drawing board.

Aemilia seemed to be contemplating this; Kozmotis did have an aquiline nose, without a nasion to speak of, her own being rather straight. So far she'd been glad to have inherited his light brown, almost golden eyes, eagle-like in their own right, and to show signs of having his long face. Apparently she came to the conclusion that she could do without his nose though. "I'll just be going to my room. Change clothing before father gets home."

Amina chuckled amused. "That is an excellent idea."

…

Only a short time later, Amina came to her daughter's room. She handed her the drawing board, expectant, but pleased with herself. "So, what do you think?"

Aemilia regarded the small picture her mother had drawn. "It looks just like me." She said with an approving smile.

"You think it will fit?"

"Just a second." Aemilia went to her desk, and opened a little wooden chest. From it she took an oval, golden locket, large enough to fit into her palm, and placed it upon the picture. It was a perfect fit. Her mother took a knife and cut the paper to size. Careful not to smear the coal drawing, Amina placed it under the glass and closed the locket. "You think father will like it?"

"I'm sure he'll never take it off."

…

Two hours later, Kozmotis was walking up the stairs to the front portal, when Aemilia came running. She tackled him just when he had a foot lifted from the ground, which he quickly needed to put back down behind him to properly catch her. "Father!"

"Emily." He said, grateful to have her back again, embracing her tightly. "How have you been sweetie?" He further asked, and with her on his arms he continued to climb the stairs.

"Lady Melinoe has shown me my first spell." She told him excitedly.

"Then I must insist you show it to me sometime." He noticed that she was looking over his back.

The lance like weapon tied to the black steed did not escape her notice. "Father, what is Aclippe carrying?"

"That, Emily, is a gift from Ombric; not for you I'm afraid."

Aemilia leaned back to be face to face with him again. "And what is it?" She asked, now being even more curious.

"A new weapon, a scythe actually." Kozmotis explained as they entered the atrium.

There was a twinkle in her eyes. "Can I see?"

"Maybe another time. Where is your mother?"

"I think she's still coming downstairs." Aemilia admitted, turning her head to the atrium. "I was just running ahead."

"I see." He said with a smirk, looking contented at his daughter, and it widened into a smile as he saw his wife coming down the stairs.

Kozmotis motioned the scythe, looking for the best position for his hands and stand, as he performed wide swings with this new weapon. The silver blade cut through the air in circles and semi-circles, in ellipses from any angle in front of him, over his head or inches above the ground. Meanwhile, Amina watched him from the stairway, at a safe distance, as he trained on the terrace. She sat there, her drawing board on her knees, a coal-pen in her hands, fingers soon black from her work.

The early summer sun was already quite strong, and after a while Kozmotis was glad he'd taken off his shirt and leather boots. The leather binding of the shaft meanwhile, kept his hands from slipping. He kept going for over an hour, before he took a break. Putting the scythe aside, Kozmotis kneeled at the pound to get some refreshing water into his face, from which pearls of sweat were running down. As he wiped the water off again, he noticed that Amina was joining him.

"There was something I've been meaning to talk with you about."

"And you've waited until I laid my weapon aside; not a good sign for one of us." He joked.

"It's about the catamaran." She said plainly, and Kozmotis licked over his lips, already not liking where this was going. "She's going sailing in the black of night all alone! Why did you give her that damn ship?"

He got back on his feet, hands raised somewhat defensively. "And you think it is my fault? Ship or no ship, Emily would still be running away whenever she could."

"We both know how dangerous the sea is; if she were to sail upon the wrong current, it would carry her out, away from Atlantis." There was just a hint of anger in her voice, but hope was in her eyes, hope he would agree with her.

"Which is why I've showed her where she could go, when I went sailing with her." Kozmotis argued, rather defensively, seeking to appease her. "I showed her the maps, so she would study them. Do you think I would leave her safety to chance or a child's sense of responsibility?"

Amina calmed down. "I don't believe that, even if it doesn't sound like it. What I want, what I expect, is for you to talk to her. She misses you; why do you think she tries so hard to emulate you?"

Kozmotis sighed. "I can't promise that she'll listen to me, but I'll talk with her."

Relieved, Amina smiled at him. "Thank you." Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "And no subliminal encouragement."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Admittedly there was no way he could have made this sound honest.

Amina playfully shoved him, and standing at the very edge he stumbled backwards, foot touching the water. In the moment before falling backwards, Kozmotis managed to grab her by the arm, and pulled her with her. She screamed, before it was drowned by the splashing of water, both disappearing briefly from sight.

A few seconds later they came up again, Amina catching for breath, Kozmotis looking rather amused. "If you thought I needed a bath, just say so." He noted.

She brushed her long hair out of her face. "Why did you have to pull me in?"

"Your hands were dirty." He explained with a matter of fact voice.

It earned him one of her frowns. "Bit excessive, don't you think?" She asked, tilting her head.

"As I recall you pushed me in first."

She put her arms around his neck, tilting her head as he began to kiss her along the neck. "Please just talk to her."

"I will." Kozmotis promised her, his voice more serious now. "You know that you two mean everything to me."

Amina smiled softly at him, returning his, neither being in a hurry to get out of the cool water.

A few days after his return, Kozmotis received word from an island, less than a day's journey from Atlantis. The hawk had come early in the morning and knocked with its beak against the window of his and Amina's bedchamber. Both woke at the sound, but at first remained in bed. "That can only be for you." She said sleepily.

"I'm afraid your right." He responded, with his arm still around her. The hawk cried out, demanding their attention. Kozmotis sighed and placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, before leaving the bed. As he walked over to the window, he put on a floor-length robe, and brushed back his hair. He needed to narrow his eyes as he pulled aside the curtains, and the first light of day flooded the room. Behind him Amina groaned a little annoyed. As soon as the window was open, the hawk came flying in and settled on a chair. It watched attentively as Kozmotis took the small scroll from its leg, before it began to clean its feathers. Meanwhile Kozmotis sat down at the edge of the bed, and Amina joined him, leaning herself against his back, head on his shoulder blade, arms around him.

His tired looking face grew concerned as he read, and somehow Amina had noticed it. "Is everything alright?"

"It's from Euthalia."

"That's not far from here." She noted, being more awake by the minute. "What do they want?"

"They say living shadows plague the town and its people; no one has been killed so far, but they suffer from night terrors. They fear it might be Dream Pirates."

By now she was wide awake, and at least as alarmed as he was. "Kozmo, they've never been this close before…if those truly are Dream Pirates."

"What else could it be?" Kozmotis replied, reading the short letter again. "I wonder how they got this far without us noticing; we should have heard of a black ship weeks before it reached Euthalia."

Amina leaned her forehead against his shoulder, sighing heavily. "You will go yourself, won't you?" She asked, despite knowing the answer already.

"I must." He confirmed. "I have to find out how they got there."

"You just came back." There was sorrow in her voice, and she hugged him tighter.

Kozmotis turned his head as far as possible to look over his shoulder. "Euthalia is not far." He reassured her, taking one of her hands. "I should return within a few days." He took a quill from the bedside table and wrote a brief order on the other side of the scroll; he would need his ship ready as early as possible. With a whistle he called the hawk, which landed obediently on his arm, so he could bind the scroll to its leg.

Meanwhile, Amina had considered his last words for a while, and as the hawk had left through the window again she pulled him back into bed, with somewhat of a sly smirk on her lips.

At noon, Kozmotis walked from the stables to the dock where his ship was anchored, just as the last supplies were brought on board. Aemilia was holding his hand, looking at the ship and the crew with great curiosity, while Amina walked next to him on the other side.

As they reached the ship, at the gangway, Kozmotis kneeled down and placed a hand gently on Aemilia's shoulder. "As long as I'm gone, try not to drive your mother crazy." He told her but with a twinkle in his eyes. His daughter grinned in kind.

"Before you go, I have something for you." She pulled out a golden, oval locket she'd worn hidden until now, and gave it to him. Her look was full of expectation.

He opened it and saw a picture of Aemilia, smiling softly at him. Amina must have drawn it herself; he'd recognized the style anywhere. Smiling himself, he closed it and put it around his neck, just before his daughter threw herself around his neck. A little surprised, but touched, Kozmotis picked her up. "Thank you; I shall always carry this with me."

"Will you be gone long?" She asked after she'd leaned back, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

"I'll be back soon." He assured her.

Worried Aemilia looked at him. "Promise?"

Pitch smiled encouragingly, hugged her, pressing her smaller body closer to him, allowing her to put her arms around his neck once more, and he whispered softly and lovingly into her hair. "On my soul." This made her smile again, and while she still sat on his arms they rested their foreheads against each other.

Kozmotis shifted her, so he had one arm free, which he then offered to his wife, who tried to muster an honest smile but as usual couldn't hide her concern. "Be careful." Amina said, hugging him as he put his arm around her.

"I will, and do not worry; I'll be back before you know it." All three stood there together at the dock, arms around each other, for a moment forgetting the rest of the world. They would have been standing there like that much longer, had Libra not arrived.

He coughed, a little hesitantly. "My apologies, Lord Pitch, Lady Pitchiner, but ship and crew are ready for departure."

Amina placed a kiss on her husband's cheek, before he let Aemilia back on the ground. "Go then; don't keep the people of Euthalia waiting."

"I pray that I may stay with you a little longer next time." With that Kozmotis kissed her one last time, savouring the moment. Unnoticed by the couple, Aemilia pulled a face and had stuck out her tongue again, making Libra snicker silently, while about half the crew had come to the railing to watch. Amina blushed, nuzzling her face against her husband as the men started to cheer, and Kozmotis laughed brightly, still holding her in his arms.

Half a day's journey later, it was evening now, the ship arrived at Euthalia. The island was known for it rich fields, and much of what grew there was exported to Atlantis, but upon arrival the island's only town looked abandoned. Everyone was on high alert when they landed, moving through the streets in parties. Solon was using his staff to create shockwaves of light every few meters, but none of the shadows stirred. Soon they also found the inhabitants. To the soldiers' relief they were all alive, but cowering in their homes jumping at every sound, even shying away from their fellow Atlantians.

Kozmotis, Libra and Solon met at the agora. "This is obviously the work of Fearlings." The wizard said, growling.

"If they wanted to lure us here, why haven't they attacked us yet?" Libra wondered.

Solon shrugged. "I cannot say, but I haven't even detected a single one within the town, only the resonance of their presence still lingering here."

"Keep searching." Lord Pitch decided. "Something still has its hold on these people's minds, which means they can't have gone too fat. Libra, try to get someone to speak; we need as much information as can be provided."

"By your orders." The officer bowed, and went off, taking a few soldiers with him.

Solon meanwhile had taken a piece of chalk, and began to draw something on the ground, a circle of runes. After his completion he stepped into it. "The circle amplifies the spell if been using before to draw out the shadows. Should something be in this town, it will now be pulled here by the power of my incantation. Ready yourselves."

Everyone had their weapons drawn already, and now waited anxiously as the wizard spoke. A wave of light washed over them, like the aurora borealis only few Atlantians had ever seen on exploratory journeys. It washed through the streets, windows and slits under the doors, into every shadowy corner.

At first nothing happened, then something black hushed over the ground, the soldiers jumping out of its way. It only stopped at the rune circle, rose, until it stood nearly two meters tall, claws spread, and white eyes pinned on Solon. It snarled dangerously exposing black fangs; a Nightmare Man. "Just one?" He said, a little unimpressed, eyes regarding the shadow almost indifferently. "I doubt one of you could oppress an entire town like this."

"Underestimating us will be your downfall, human." It hissed, lifting a claw to strike.

Kozmotis was faster, and cut the hands off with two clean strikes of his sword, before Solon had even time to react. The Nightmare Man screamed, and collapsed to its knees. Being a shadow, it would not bleed or die from it, and seconds later suffer no pain at all, but now it could no longer hurt someone physically, or merge with the shadows and escape. "We'll bring it to the cage and question it. We must learn where the others of its ilk are."

It struggled when it was being trapped in the light sphere, to no avail. They brought the shadow onboard, to the cell under deck, where Solon locked it up. Kozmotis stayed there, even after the wizard had left to try another spell, thinking about how to question it, when Libra joined him. "I've spoken to the towns people." He began, greatly worried. "They say a small black ship has set sails from Euthalia not three hours ago. Sir, they've taken the Aspasia current."

"The current leads right to the Atlantian harbour."

As much as the officer was worried, he was just as confused. "It's nonsense to send a single ship to Atlantis. The sage's guild would tear it apart before they made landfall, and they would need to get pass several watch posts on the way there."

Contemplating, Lord Pitch ran his fingers over his chin. "Unless somehow they manage to get off the current."

The other man shook his head. "It's too strong; not even our ships can do it." Both Libra and Pitchiner turned around when the heard laughter from the cell.

Suspiciously the general narrowed his eyes and approached the cage. "Tell me what you are planning." He demanded calmly.

The shadow stepped forward, almost touching the foggy bars of light. "Ask yourself, High General, what do you fear more than anything, what is it that you seek to protect most?" The Nightmare Man hissed, and laughed again, chilling to the bone.

For a second Kozmotis froze, his eyes widening in terror at its words; he'd almost let go of his weapon. Then he rushed past Libra up on deck. "The entire crew back onboard! Full sail, all men to the rudders!" He shouted. "We're making for Atlantis at full speed!"

Libra came running up the stairs as well, confusion written plainly in his expression. "Sir, what is going on?"

"They're going after my family!"

She had already one leg out of the window when. "Lady Aemilia!"

Emily flinched and looked over to Zoe, who'd been walking through the garden. "Hi, Zoe." She greeted her innocently.

The young woman was a servant for the Pitchiner family, only about a decade older than Emily, and now she stood there with her hands on her hips. "Are you sneaking off to the boathouse again? I'm sure your mother would not approve of it."

"She doesn't need to know. It's just going to be a short trip." Emily explained. "I'll be fine, like last time, and the time before, and the twenty other times before that." She had promise her mother and father she wouldn't go out, but since her uncle Lykos had told her tales of what he and her parents had done in their childhood, she had a hard time feeling guilty.

Zoe shook her head, disapprovingly. "You'll only get into trouble, be it on sea or when you return. Is it really worth it, Milady?"

"Yes." She answered plainly, making Zoe sigh. "My father hasn't given me my own ship so it would gather dust all year long."

It seemed Zoe was thinking about this. "Well, technically I can't forbid you anything, though your mother would want me to stop you."

Suspiciously Emily frowned. "Isn't that what you've been trying to do for the past two minutes or so? Please Zoe, don't tell my mother and let me do this."

Finally the young woman gave in. "Fine; if anyone asks I haven't seen you; but don't blame me if your mother grounds you again."

Briefly the girl hugged her enthusiastically. "Thank you, thank you Zoe. Promise you won't regret it." And quickly Emily ran off, as she'd done so many times before. Fifteen minutes later, she opened the boathouse doors. Cool ocean water washed around Emily's legs, as she pushed the catamaran further from the shore. She climbed onboard, and steered north-west. It would mean going pass the mansion, but further up the coast the sea lions went fishing, and that was always a joy to watch.

…

Kozmotis jumped off the trireme before it had come to a full stop at the dock. Pain shot up his legs, but he ignored it. He was already holding his scythe combat ready, the blade hovering centimeters over the ground as he ran to the stables. People he passed jumped out of his way, surprised and briefly scared, looking after him confused. A dozen of his soldiers, including Libra and Solon ran after him, having trouble keeping up, despite the heavier armor he was wearing and the massive weapon in his hand. They had barely reached the stables, when Lord Pitch raced off again on a white horse.

He drove it through the streets, disregarding those reserved for pedestrians, be it slim alleys or wide staircases. A few times his horse slid over the smooth ground, but Kozmotis didn't slow down, never minding the angry or surprised outcries following him. His mind was too occupied, only being able to think of getting home, to make it in time before it was too late. Every shadow he passed seemed to stare at him with the all too familiar white eyes of Fearlings and Nightmare Men, taunting and murderous. Furiously Kozmotis gritted his teeth. No, he would not allow them to harm his family; he would not fail them, not today, not ever. He'd promised. Never before had he been so afraid in his life, not even when facing the monstrous shadow previous year, and panic instead of blood, seemed to be rushing through his veins, the golden locked jumping up and down on his chest. Within minutes after his arrival on the island continent, Kozmotis left the city behind him, dreadfully aware that time was running out.

…

"Get the families away from the villa. Take the horses."

"Yes, Milady."

"We will keep them occupied." Amina had arrived at the atrium, the leather vest of her hunting attire over her green dress, bow in her hand, a quiver with blessed arrows at her side.

Deeply troubled by this, the captain of the guard, Perseus, approached her. "With all due respect, Lady Pitchiner, but I'm afraid I cannot allow you to take part in this fight."

She lifted an eyebrow. "How so, Captain?"

"Your Lord Husband has charged us with protecting you and your daughter; it is our duty to keep you safe. Please, flee with the servants." He pleaded, though doubting he could convince her.

Amina looked past him, out the window from which one could see the coastline, and the small black ship. Then she spoke very calmly and factual. "They have likely come for me and my daughter; even if I ran they would only come after us. My daughter will leave with Zoe, but I will stay and give them time to escape. That is my duty, Captain."

Captain Perseus bowed. "As you wish, Milady, and we are honored to have you at our side."

"The honor is mine. Now let us banish these Pirates back to the shadows from which they came." At her words the present guards raised their weapons, letting a battle cry resound through the building.

Moments later Zoe came running to her, shame shaping her expression. "My Lady, Aemilia is not in the mansion or its garden."

Anger and fear gripped her heart. "Zoe, where is my daughter!?" Amina demanded, her hand clutching the bow.

"Just an hour ago, she sneaked off to the boathouse; she made me promise not to tell you. I'm so sorry, I didn't think any harm would come from it." The young servant girl was starting to sob, and Amina about to yell.

Then a thought crossed her mind, and she stopped herself. "Perhaps you've done well." She slowly began, for the first time glad her daughter disobeyed her. "Emily always runs away for hours, especially when she goes sailing. If the divines are with us, she'll only return when all is over. Still, take a horse and Thymos with you; flee along the coast going north-west. If you find her, stop her and take her with you."

"Yes, Milady." Zoe ran off again, straight to the stables, lifting her beige dress so she would trip over the hem. A few last minutes of hectic activity past, before the villa was all but abandoned.

The golden and green clad guards took position, spears and swords in hands, oval shields protectively in front of them. Amina readied her first arrow behind them. She calmed her breathing as much as she could, but her fear was making it difficult. Suddenly, a strong wind burst all windows open at the same time, even shattering glass, and the sound echoed through all the rooms. Everyone flinched. Far above, they could hear the hawks screaming. Nobody had bothered to get up the tower and free them.

Out of nowhere, a tall black shadow suddenly stood in front of a guard, sword dark as night risen to strike. It hadn't been there just a second ago. Without thinking, Amina fired the arrow, hitting the creature in the chest. There was a small explosion of light, and the shadow was gone, the man thrown back by a small impact wave. Quickly Amina drew another one, as out of the numerous shadows, cast by the pillars, the Dream Pirates emerged, coming upon them like demons. The first soldiers were taken out before they could raise their weapons, claws and dark blades going through them, piercing their bodies. Soon the marble floor and the gavel were covered and soaked in red blood, as the fighting truly began. Another arrow found its target, a Fearling letting itself fall from the ceiling. Amina sent arrow after arrow flying, but she knew they were outnumbered, even though the guards killed many. One man was dragged to the ground by six shadows, before a seventh stabbed him with a hooked spear. All too soon, Amina quiver was getting empty, and she saw Perseus, being stabbed in the abdomen with a saber, the body being cut open from the center to the left, spilling his guts on the floor. She shot one more arrow, and rushed downstairs; maybe she could make it down to the armory. There should be at least one other blessed weapon lying around.

She had made it down the stairs, when something tackled her from the right, from a shadow upon the wall. They came crashing through a half opened door into tailoring, where some of the women, including Zoe, would produce most of the clothing they all wore. Without thinking, Lady Pitchiner got on her feet, raised her bow in defense as if it was a shield, when the Fearling's long, sharp claws came down, aiming at her face.

The bow splintered at the impact, and Amina was forced to let it go, being pushed backwards, yet still held the last blessed arrow in her right hand. As the shadow reached out once more to finish her off, she stabbed it with the projectile, digging it deep through its throat. The arrow basically exploded inside the Fearling, and it dispersed with a brief look of surprise in its eyes, while she was thrown against a nearby wall, punching the air briefly out of her lungs. Catching her breath, Amina realized that she no longer had anything left to defend herself with, and no more screams or the clashing of weapons could be heard from above. She was completely alone.

Thinking quickly, she grabbed a small manikin, used to make Aemilia's clothing, and wrapped a cloak around it. Hissing sounds came from above, as Amina ran back to the study, just two doors further and onto the balcony. Crashing, the door came down behind her. She turned around to see a Dream Pirate in the doorway, its cold gaze wandering briefly through the room, before fixating on her on the balcony, the white curtains moving around her in the wind. It was almost two meters tall, a long black sword in its right hand, blood dripping off it. Amina fought her fear, but felt herself trembling, as she protectively pressed the manikin closer to herself. The Dream Pirate took a step closer, and she stepped back, hitting the balustrade with her lower back. "Stay away from me, shadow." Amina demanded, glad that her voice still strong and clear, despite her fear.

She hadn't expected the Nightmare Man to listen, and he approached her nonetheless, likely counting on her fear of death, fear of falling down the cliff. And she was afraid. Amina knew with sudden clarity that she would die, whether the Dream Pirate caught her or she went through with her plan. But what choice did she have; she needed to keep her daughter safe. She had to convince the shadows that Emily was dead, or they would search for her.

The Dream Pirate had almost reached her, the left hand reaching out for her with long, slim fingers. Amina turned to the manikin, and whispered to it like to a child. "Please forgive me, Kozmotis." As if the shadow had read her thoughts it leaped forward, but Amina already stood on the balustrade…and jumped off.

As she fell, Lady Pitchiner thought of her daughter and her husband. She could almost see them, as she closed her eyes tightly; Kozmo smiling warmly at her, with Emily on his arms, who was waving to her, beaming with joy. One last time Amina shed tears for them.

…

Kozmotis was riding through the meadows, as fast as his horse still could. Already he could see the mansion, and soon passed the boathouse, which had been reduced to rumble. His heart sank, when he saw the black ship anchoring just off shore, his hand clenching the scythe even tighter. No, don't let him be too late. The horse rushed through the garden, the tree-bordered path up to the front portal. From a shadow rose a Fearling, a long spear in its claws, but Kozmotis was faster, the scythe cutting effortlessly through its slim body, not even slowing down. He leaped off the horse at the stairs, and ran them up, a few shadows already closing in behind him. Mere meters from the atrium they surrounded him, and Kozmotis swung around his weapon, first cutting through the necks of those in front, lowering himself to his knees, avoiding several blades, while his now severed through torsos and then legs, until he'd turned 360°. Those who'd only lost their legs, hissed in pain, the enchantment of the blade keeping them from regenerating, as the High General stepped over the bodies of his loyal guard, their blood covering the marble floor.

"Come and face me, shadows!" Lord Pitch shouted, his voice carrying his wrath. The Dream Pirates had heard him, and began to gather around the atrium, where Kozmotis had taken position. He counted more than twenty, but that was just an estimate. "Where is my family?"

Instead of answering they attacked, with blade and claw. He sidestepped and drove his blade into one's back, bringing it around to cut another in two. Swiftly he angled his upper body, merely dodging a spear, and swung the scythe up, catching the Dream Shadow while it was still in the air with the blade over its head. Almost like a dancer, he moved among the shadows, the curved blade seemingly everywhere at once, as he turned to all directions, cutting bodies apart and separating limbs. Had it not been for the adrenalin and years of training, he would have gotten dizzy.

By that time Libra, Solon and his soldiers arrived, Kozmotis had dealt with all of them. The injured shadows tried to crawl away, but were quickly rounded up. On his way, Libra had picked up members of the Golden Guard, who went to search the surrounding area for any remaining Dream Pirates. As the battle was over, Kozmotis grabbed one of the Dream Pirates, a Nightmare Man, holding the scythe against its throat. For the first time he spoke the incantation the wizard had given him. "Bàs na sgàile daonnan." The blade started glowing in a pale blue. The substance of the shadow shivered violently close to the metal, as if it was cooking oil, and it stared at the blade, seemingly terrified. This was not an enchantment it knew, but something more powerful, more dangerous to it.

Kozmotis didn't let it get away, no matter how hard it tried to move away from the scythe. "Where is my wife, shadow?" He snarled dangerously, the harsh tone of his usually smooth voice, even scaring his own men somewhat, his next words almost uttered in a shout. "Where is my daughter?!"

…

No, this hadn't happened. This was only a dream, only a nightmare. Emily sat on her little vessel, watching the mansion from a distance, limbs wrapped around the mast, as if she was hoping it would hug her in return. Hot tears ran down her cheeks, as she sobbed soundly and alone. Just moments ago Emily had seen how her mother had jumped of a balcony into the bay below, a shadowy figure right behind her, stopping at the balustrade. Her own body was now trembling, her mind at turmoil.

How had the shadows gotten here? Hadn't her father gone to stop them? Her heart seemed to give out. Had they killed him? No, no, no; no shadow could kill him, he was the High General of the Golden Fleet, no one fought better than him…but then, where was he?

Something in the back of her mind, made her suddenly aware that she was in danger as well. The Dream Pirates would certainly come for her too, and if she could see them, they could spot her soon, when they look in this particular direction. Still trembling, her vision blurry from the tear, Emily got back on her feet. She knew there was a hamlet further up the coast, and perhaps it was possible to reach it, even if that meant going into unknown waters. From there it would be easy enough to reach the capital, someone was sure to give her a horse, after all she was a Pitchiner; she was Lord Pitch's daughter.

The catamaran got moving again, and Emily sailed away from her home, going north-west. She steered it around reefs, until after a while she no longer knew her way around. The coast was blocked by rocks, and she was sure more were just below the line of water, so she headed further away from land. For some time everything went smoothly, sailing parallel to the coastline, until her ship was pulled to the side. Emily changed the position of her sail to better catch the wind, but it only slowed the catamaran down. She was trapped in a strong current, and it was pulling her into the open sea! Panic rushed through her veins, but no matter how hard she tried, the vessel would not return on course. Her parents had warned her, told her of the dangers of the local currents, but she'd never imagined them to be this strong. Further and further away she drifted, until defeated she gave up. All strength, be it of body or mind had left her, and so Emily crawled into a ball on the network, sobbing again, as Atlantis grew smaller and smaller.

…

Soundly his scythe fell to the gravel of the atrium, metal hitting on stone. Fright and panic was holding his heart in a tight grip, and he let go off the Nightmare Man, who quivered and faded away, too weakened by the enchantment of the scythe even though the blade had never touched him, and Kozmotis rushed down the staircase, through the corridor, and finally over the broken pieces of the study's door. He threw aside the white curtains, almost getting tangled up in them, stopping himself just in time at the balustrade of the balcony. Anxiously his eyes scanned the bay below, only seeing waves crashing brutally against the rocks. No, no, no; it could not be true! Kozmotis thought he saw something thrown around by the waves, and immediately headed for the staircase. Several times he barely managed not to stumble over his own feet, until he reached the stony coast.

Kozmotis was only slowed down as he ran into the ocean, his clothing gaining significant weight by absorbing the water. He fought his way through the waves, some of which threaten to push him back or off his feet entirely. Soon they reached up to his chest; by then he'd almost reached her. Amina was being carried by the water, her green dress and open hair spread around her. He reached out for her, feeling hot tears emerging in his eyes. With hands, trembling from his despair as well as the cool water, Kozmotis pulled her closer to him, one arm going under the hollow of her knees, the other around her back, resting her against his torso. Her head sagged forward and to the side, leaning at his chest. This was not, it could not real; it had to be another nightmare, another vision by the shadows. Frantically he turned his head to all direction, but Emily was nowhere to be seen. With Amina in his arms he returned to the shore.

Once he'd reached the beach, he sank to his knees, all strengh leaving his legs, and for a moment staring at his beloved in disbelieve, part of him unwilling to accept this. He was breathing heavily at this point, and as he carefully lowered her to his lap, her head fell back. Helplessly he briefly looked around, but there was no one around, and he threw his head back, loudly crying out into the sky, a sound of pain, rage and despair. The waves bathed around him still.

Slowly he turned back to her again, removing the arm from underneath her legs, and instead guiding his hand to her face. So very carefully he lifted her head, framing her face with his hand as if he feared she would fade beneath his touch. Amina soft skin felt so cold, even to his stiff fingers. Gently he leaned his forehead against hers, then kissed it lovingly, feeling a tear falling upon her cheek. For some time he just remained sitting there, finding himself unable and unwilling to move, just keeping her body against his, just holding her close.

Eventually, Kozmotis found the strength to stand again. Carefully he placed his wife on the dry rocks; it was so difficult to let go of her, as if all hope would leave him if he did. But he had to look for Emily. He search up and down the bay, followed the coast to where the current would have most likely taken her, all the while calling out her name, growing more and more desperate as time went on. She was nowhere to be seen. It was like the ocean had swallowed his daughter. After what felt like an eternity he gave up, his throat and mouth dry from shouting. His hands ran through his hair, before clenching it, nails digging into his palms painfully. In a single day he had lost his wife, his daughter, everything he cared for. Kozmotis felt like breaking apart, and some part of his mind wanted him to throw himself into the waves, or take the scimitar at his side.

He did neither, and eventually returned to the bay, and Amina. The tide was coming in, and already the waves had reached her, drenching the dress once more. Carefully Kozmotis took her into his arms like before, and carried her up the stairs, water still dripping from both of them, her long hair almost touching the steps. Kozmotis could feel her growing heavier and heavier in his arms, but climbed on regardless. When he'd reached the atrium, the tears had dried; his face would have seemed to a casual beholder calm and collected, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil and pain. His soldiers had rounded up the Dream Pirates, which were all now cowering on their knees in a single line. No one dared to speak when the High General walked in, the lifeless body of his wife in his arms, and he gently placed her on a bench, as if she was merely sleeping. For a moment he had his back turned to all of them, kneeling next to her, brushing a strain of hair from her pale face.

Slowly he rose, and took his scythe again. It was still glowing blue. He didn't speak, just walked up to the prisoners, his eyes having turned cold and for a moment almost indifferent. He stood there next to the outer right Dream Pirate, hand clenching his weapon tightly. Then the shadow looked up. For a few seconds both the General and the Pirate looked each other in the eyes, and the silence grew more uncomfortable. Suddenly, and without warning, pure rage flared up in Lord Pitch's eyes, and his scythe swung up, on its way, beheading three shadows at once, turning them into mist. Pitch sunk to his knees, using his weapon like a staff to keep himself upright though. Shocked his men watched, only now realizing what he'd done. He had not simply vanquished their physical form, he'd outright and with full intend destroyed them, and it had weakened him severely.

As he was catching his breath, panting as he kneeled there, the Dream Pirates seemed suddenly distressed, also realizing that they were actually in danger. The soldier still wouldn't move, some exchanging question glances, unsure of what to do next. Lord Pitch came back to his feet, and staggering, walked to the other prisoners. They tried to move away, but the magic was holding them in place. It was then that for the first time the Atlantians saw something almost fear-like in their pale murderous eyes, just before the General's scythe came down again. He walked through the prisoners like the Grim Reaper himself, growing weaker with every strike, until none was left.

Only then did Lord Pitch allow himself to sink onto his knees again, letting his scythe fall to the ground in front of him. He leaned forward, his hands clenching into the gavel, his body shivering. The soldiers saw blood running from between his fingers. "Leave me." It was hardly more than a whisper, but more than loud enough in the utter silence. Still, no one moved. They could hear him inhale the air. "Leave me alone!"

It got them all out of their paralysis, and one after the other they left the atrium through the front door, as quietly as their armor allowed. Solon briefly stopped at the door and looked back, but Kozmotis still had his head lowered, tears hitting the gravel, and so he left as well.

…

Kozmotis searched his daughters for days, starting only an hour after the execution, his men travelling along the coast, both on land and on water, others following currents that could have carried her away from the bay, but to no avail. She remained lost. On the properties however they founds those who hadn't made it in time to escape, among them Thymos and the servant Zoe, who for some reason seemed to have made a detour to the beach. Kozmotis himself did not allow himself any sleep, though at this point he had little to no hope left of finding his Emily alive. Officer Libra encouraged him to go home, while he would continue the search, seeing Lord Pitch's condition. It took Nikomedes almost all day to convince him, and eventually Kozmotis returned home, or whatever was left of it. The days without sleep, the fight and the search, but most of all the death of his family finally took their toll, and in full armor, he collapsed onto the floor and fell into an uneasy, guild plagued sleep, as soon as he'd reached his bedchamber.

Lykos returned to Atlantis three days after the attack. He had received the news on his way back, and as soon as the ship was anchored he took a horse and headed for the Pitchiner mansion. It was raining that day, the sky was grey, and soon he was drenched, rendering his cloak and hood useless. When he reached the villa, the first thing Lykos noticed was how abandoned the properties looked; no horses on the meadows, or people tending to them, the trees covered with marks from blades and claws. He rode to the front portal, where two golden clad soldiers were standing guard. They saluted when Lykos climbed the stairs.

"At ease." He spoke. "Where can I find the High General?"

"Last he's been seen in his chambers, captain." One answered him.

Lykos merely nodded and went inside. The signs of battle could be seen here as well; cuts in the wall, destroyed furniture and a few remaining stains of blood. It was unsettling how quiet the mansion was. Usually people would walk these halls, chatting with one another, servants and guards alike. From somewhere outside the laughter of children would come, and the neighing of horses in the stables. Now there was only the wind blowing through the chambers, and the occasional rustling of leaves. It was like visiting a tomb.

Upstairs, Lykos found his old friend, sitting on the ground, back against the bed. In his hands he held a small oval locket. Even as Lykos knocked against the open door, Kozmotis didn't look up, eyes fixed on the small golden object. He looked worse off than after a battle; his white coat was covered with grey and black stains, his black hair was a mess, a few strains hanging over his face. Dark rings had appeared around his eyes, and he hadn't shaven in a while, so beard stubbles were starting to show.

For a while Lykos waited there in the doorway, uncertain how to start, until with a low voice the other man began. "The last time I saw them, Emily gave me this." Carefully he closed the locket. "I've failed them, Lykos."

"Don't you dare say that."

For the first time Kozmotis looked up, obviously puzzled, yet angry. Not with Lykos but himself. "They died because I wasn't here, when they needed me most." His hand now grabbed the locket more tightly.

"Would you have stayed here until the end of the war, hadn't that report reached you? At some point you would have eventually set out again, and the shadows would have come. If it hadn't happened three days ago, it would have happened during your next journey." Lykos glared at him, hating to be so harsh. "It pains me to say it, believe me, but this was inevitable."

"I should have assigned more guards." Pitchiner spoke, his face hidden behind a hand, which muffled his words a little. "I should have brought them to the city; there they would have been save."

"Until now there was no reason to believe this mansion was in any danger. We all thought Atlantis was safe."

"Why are you saying this? My mistakes, my errors in judgment killed your sister and your niece." Some fire had returned into his eyes, but it burned with self-loathing. "I didn't expect words of comfort." He admitted

"I say this because I know you, old friend. I know how much you loved them, and I know that you did everything you could; Kozmotis Pitchiner was never someone to do anything less." The other man explained calmly, sitting down against the wall next to the door adjacent to the bed. "You are not to blame for what happened to them. Only the shadows are."

For a long time there was silence; Kozmotis was once more beholding the locket in his hands, while Lykos had his eyes closed and his head was leaning back against the wall. He sat there and waited for Kozmotis to reply something, and he did so patiently. Lykos had already shed his own tears, and would share plenty more in the days to come, but that was not what his friend needed right now. He needed to get his friend out of that hole he'd fallen into.

"You are right." Kozmotis slowly began his voice so low Lykos could barely hear him. "Had it not been for the shadows they'd both be still alive…and countless others. I have been too merciful with them."

"I've heard what you've done with the prisoners here. There was hardly any mercy in you that day." There was a hint of accusation in his words.

Suddenly Kozmotis was on his feet, anger and pain so strong and plainly written upon his face. "Would have done anything else? Would you have fed the creatures that slaughtered your daughter and wife? Would you have been merciful after you held her cold body in your arms, knowing her eyes would never open, knowing her lips would never again speak to you again." There was a short break, and his next words were spoken slower, quieter. "When you realize you have broken every promise, every vow you'd once given to them?"

Lykos found no words. He wanted to protest, but who could have thought rationally on such a day, when your entire world crumbled before you? It would be naïve to think one would have acted differently, put into the same situation. And so he said nothing, only meeting his friends gaze. After a while Kozmotis wandered to a window, and looked out upon the ocean, watching the rain.

When he spoke again Kozmotis voice was calm and factual, and even though Lykos felt much the same rage inside him, it was frightening, because it was the honorable, noble Kozmotis Pitchiner who said it. "It was a mistake to treat them like any human foe we've faced. I will hunt them down; each and every shadow that still roams free. I want them either slain or locked up for all eternity." He made it sound like it was no most ordinary thing in the world, and it was more terrifying than anything ever uttered in rage.

Once more a large crowd had gathered in the temple, but this time it was quiet, and even if someone spoke it was only whispered to those next to him. Banners had been removed from the streets, only two hanging now from the pillars flanking the altar. One showed the Pitchiner sigil, the black horse on a soft green field, while the other showed the Sagittarius', a grey wolf, flanked by arrows on dark green. Even though the constellation was said to show a centaur, the wolf had been chosen as it and its descendants, had accompanied hunters for millennia.

On the altar a pyre had been built, the smell of oil heavy upon it. Kozmotis stood at the base of the stairs leading up to it, dressed completely in black, as was everyone else. The only color he wore was the golden locket around his neck. Next to him was Lykos, standing between him and Pitchiner's stepparents. They hadn't spoken to him since the day of the attack, and frankly he wasn't too eager to change that. Not for now at least. Shortly before the Archpriest came, the two kings arrived. Thais Aquarius and his wife, approached him, and the general bowed. "Our deepest sympathy for you, Lord Pitchiner." Kozmotis merely nodded his thanks, before they moved on to Lykos and Lord and Lady Sagittarius.

Tsar and Tsarina Lunar were next, and Kozmotis wanted to bow before them as well, but she placed a comforting hand on his folded ones. Her voice was warm and gentle as she spoke. "Our hearts and prayers are with you these days, Kozmotis."

"Thank you, my Queen."

Ever since he'd come to the temple, everyone had approached him with much the same words, and even though most meant what they said, by now they began to sound hollow, and little comfort came from them. But what could truly give comfort to him anyway?

Kozmotis didn't paid full attention to the priest's long speech. Throughout the war he heard these blessings and prayers all too often, and he didn't believe he could take it, now that they were spoken for his family. He never had wanted to hear them for his wife, and never had he believed to hear them for his daughter. No parent should be forced to outlive their child.

Then came the part of the ceremony he was dreading. He walked to the priest, halfway up the stairs, and received a small bowl, holding a flame. The bowl was surprisingly cool in his hands. "May their souls be freed from their shackles, and find peace on the other side." The priest spoke solemnly.

"May no evil ever befall them again, in eternity." Kozmotis finished. "And their memory be honored."

He climbed the last stairs, up to the altar. Once more he looked at Amina, lying there in a white dress, hands folded, holding the broken handle of the bow he'd so long ago carved for her. White and yellow blossoms were placed upon her open hair, framing most of her body, her lovely face, which look so peacefully, as if she was merely sleeping. He almost couldn't do it. He was not ready to let go.

With trembling hands Kozmotis slowly placed the small bowl at the pile, and pulled them away as the oil covered wood caught quickly fire. Higher and higher the flames crawled, until they reached Amina, and soon she was but a shade behind a veil of orange and red. Kozmotis wanted to shed tears for her, but they dried immediately in the heat. The smoke rose up into the stone dome, exiting through the center oculus. Due to the lack of wind that day, the trail of smoke went up straight outside, to be seen across most of the island continent.

For what felt like an eternity, Kozmotis let the heat of the fire wash over him, and he welcomed the pain. His tearing eyes were fixed on Amina, at least what he could see of her. Some part of his mind could still not believe this all had really happened, but there was no escaping reality. And so Kozmotis watched, torn inside, how his wife faded from the world.

…

Sometime later, night had fallen over Atlantis, and the temple was all but abandoned. No light burned, only the moon shone dimly through the small windows and the oculus. The latter created a beam of light, falling upon the altar covered with ash. It was customary that only on the following day the ashes would be gathered with the first light of morning. Kozmotis still sat in front of it, and now that the tears could run again, they cut bright lines upon his skin, on which a thin layer of black ash had settled, giving most of his face a greyish complexion.

All alone he whispered to himself an old song, one Amina had used to sing to their daughter, when she'd been younger. A few years ago, Emily had decided she was getting too old for them. The softly spoken words echoed ghostly in the dome, as he kept his eyes close, trying to picture Amina sitting on Emily's bed, singing this very song with her beautiful voice, while he stood smiling at the door, watching, listening. Never again would it be anything more but a memory. Tears fell upon the marble steps.

He stayed there throughout the entire night, and kept watch over the dead, over his family.

The sea was calm, with only small waves carrying the catamaran on its way. The current had brought it and its passenger far from Atlantis. The mast had broken off in a storm, but luckily Emily had managed to hold on the network. Her palms were now covered with barely healed cuts, and she was shivering from the cold and hunger. She was so thirsty, and close to passing out at this point. Exhausted the girl watched the waves beneath the network, lying there flat on her stomach. Somehow she found the strength to lift her head, and saw a coastline. The sight lifted her spirit, and she licked over her dried up lips, tasting salt. Maybe she'd survive this yet.

A minute later Aemilia was unconscious.

…

It was truly a pleasant day, the sun high in the air, and little wind, cool and refreshing. Typhan was walking along the beach of the island he called home for about three decades, his sandals sinking deep into the sand. Somewhere further down his way, seagulls had gathered, circling low, and screaming excited about something. The old hermit grew curious and picked up his pace; it had been a while since anything interesting had happened. To his surprise Typhan found a strange, small craft that had been washed ashore. It had two hulls and the mast was missing. Someone was on it as well. Typhan started running when he saw it was a young girl. The seagulls flew away, scared off by the hermit.

The girl was maybe ten, dressed in trousers and a shirt made of fine cloth, like those of Atlantian nobles, though now it was drenched in water, and clung tightly to her slender body. Her night black hair was wavy and covered most of her face and back. Typhan checked her pulse, and was greatly relieved to find one, though she was cold. Gods knew how long she'd been out on sea. He picked her up and wrapped her in his cloak, before carrying her to his home. Somewhere along the way she stirred, and whispered weakly. "Father?" Typhan had not the heart to tell her no, and within seconds she had drifted back into sleep.

Characters from the original books: Kozmotis Pitchiner, Lady (Amina) Pitchiner, Emily Jane Pitchiner, Ombric Shalazar, Tsar & Tsarina Lunar, Tsar (Badr) Lunar/MiM, Sandman (Chrysos), Nightlight (Zopyros), Typhan, Dream Pirates/Fearlings/Nightmare Men

Lady Pitchiner: In the books it's only said that she killed herself, jumping out a window with a dummy doll, the Dream Pirates watching. The woman I described however, I think would not have gone down without a fight. By the way, I've checked options for Guardians of Childhood series characters, and she's not even listed. What the hell, honestly. You can add things like fog, moonbeam and moonmice ect., but not Pitch's wife, the woman he loved and cared for, mother of his only daughter, whose death was part of what drove him to hunt down all Dream Pirates and guard their prison(kind of essential), and certainly affected Emily/Mother Nature quite a bit. What did I miss?

Something I've noticed while I was looking up Greek names, is that kosmos, from which Kozmotis likely derives, means order and decency.

Spells: I've chosen Scottish-Gaelic for the spells because I wanted something different from the Greek theme, and it always reminds me of Lord of the Rings. Plus, when thinking magic, one of the first things coming into my mind are druids. Now I have no idea about grammar, these are just words taken from an online German to Scottish Gaelic dictionary, put together so they sound somewhat decent.

Solas làmh: Solas=light/light source, làmh=hand

Bàs na sgàile daonnan: bàs=death, na=an article, sgàile=shadow/ghost/shade, doannan=permanently/always

Melinoe; one of several names the Geek goddess Hecate was also referred by, who was associated with magic and witchcraft among others…, quite a few others.

Euthalia=bloom, flower

Aspasia=welcome, embrace

...and now that this particular chapter is finished; where is my whisky...