Once again, I find myself apologizing for chronic lateness. How is this chapter? Please tell me what you think about Raven's powers. I figured, instead of 'dark magic' she could be able to control all the elements.

Have you noticed how the weather changes with her mood?

Disclaimer: Should be in Chapter 1

Chapter 6

"Captain, are you sure that this is the only way to enter the Northern Kingdom? Do you know how long it would take to walk to the border of Armenia?"

Richard sighed. "Yes, it's the only way. The closest sea port in the Norther Kingdom has been blockaded due to another inter-tribal war. Entering the country from Armenia is safer. We won't be bothered with road checks or military raids."

The group had been walking for several hours, taking the lesser traveled route to the capital city. The captain decided it would be easier to obtain goods and horses from the capital, instead of the smaller lesser known towns. Although it was a longer route, it did allow for some relaxation, especially to take in the beautiful scenery.

Richard was awed by the tall, swaying palm trees, exotic, peculiar-looking bushes and shrubs, as well as the strangely delicious-but-poisonous looking berries. The sun was not too hot, nor was the humidity unbearable. The wind blew softly through the trees, sending a welcome cooling draft to the weary travelers.

Armenia was a country with very enviable weather, Richard thought with a fleeting sense of jealously.

There was no winter, according to Arella. What would it be like to live here forever? To live in a perpetual season of spring? To dance in the sunshine all year, to be blessed with bountiful harvests, and merciful rains? Such peaceable dwellings accurately explained with great detail, the pacifist beliefs of Aremia and its sister country, Azarath.

An excited shout echoed across the forest road. Richard turned sharply, ice blue eyes taking in the priestess and Garfield chasing a small goat across the dusty path. A rare grin spread on his face.

Arella was so...

"Childish, isn't she?" The doctor's deep baritone drew Richard from his musings.

"Yes. Unnaturally so...at least for a high priestess."

Victor pursed his lips. A look of doubt etched on his face. "Richard, are you certain she is Arella? I just don't think it's possible. Bruce died three years ago, right? But that girl doesn't even look eighteen! The numbers just don't add up!"

A slight breeze ruffled the captain's jet black hair. He sighed, Victor's question eliciting a flood of doubts in his mind. "If she is, so be it. If she's not, then we can still question her. As the high priestess, she's got to know something about Arella, right?"

"I guess. But what? Why would a high priestess know anything about your father, let alone the circumstances surrounding his death?"

Richard shrugged, his ice blue eyes silently appraising the frolicking young woman. "Somehow, they look alike. The same pale skin, dark purple-black hair. Everything I saw that night...I see in her. Everything but the eyes..." His voice trailed off into the wind, and the captain sped up his pace, wondering why there was such a commotion up ahead. Richard tensed his shoulders as he felt the air suddenly shifted temperature, blowing from a moderate warm gust, to a cool crisp breeze.

Was the weather in Armenia supposed to change this much?

Ice blue eyes narrowed as he came upon the crowd, and took in the plain clothed elderly woman, kneeling at the feet of the priestess. A strange feeling came over him as he took in this sight, wasn't this the girl who was prancing and frolicking not long ago? Richard gazed at her straight posture, marveling at the seriousness of it all.

"Priestess, my wish is but to serve you." The old woman intoned, her eyes down cast as she clutched at a basket teeming with bread, cheese and numerous vegetables.

"It is my wish to reside at your dwelling this night. I also wish that this goat be served in celebration of my peaceful visit." Arella spoke, her voice cool and commanding.

"Priestess, your feet!" The woman reached out, her wrinkled hands gently brushing the dirt from the priestess's moccasins. Slowly the elderly woman unclasped the chains decorating the moccasins, tears slowly slipping down crinkled cheeks. "Priestess, I misunderstand this sight. Surely, your explanations are sound...that they are not the fearful thoughts of an old woman."

"Rest assured, grandmother. My explanations are indeed sound. You may put your fears to rest." Arella paused, a strange sorrow filling her voice. "It is my earnest plea that you perform this rite for me. I wish...to be whole once more."

oOoOo

Garfield coughed as he frantically reached for a piece of bread. His mouth burned, his nose burned. What kind of food was this? Why was it so damn spicy? The young deck hand glanced around, wondering if he was the only one having trouble eating the spicy food called 'curry'. His green eyes landed on Richard and he stifled a laugh. So he wasn't the only one. "Miss, why must the curry be so hot?" He questioned the priestess, who was sitting beside him, polishing off a third bowl with rice.

A grin spread on her face. "The curry is not hot for those who are accustomed to such things. Look at Harper. He has no problem eating it. Do you, Roy?" The young woman's voice changed to a sultry suggestive tone.

The teenage boy raised his eyebrow, did the two know each other? What was with that tone? His jade green eyes stared curiously as the red haired man raised his porcelain cup in acknowledgment, a strange look of desire, teeming behind his cobalt blue eyes. Garfield shivered at the man's salacious smile, and grew confused as the priestess began to laugh, an odd amusement coloring her voice. Why would she laugh? Was this some sort of secret joke? Jade green eyes stared into the half-empty ceramic bowl of rice and curry.

Arella was a strange person. A peculiar woman, with moods that changed like the tides, secret water-controlling powers and the uncanny ability to read minds. Was she a priestess? Do priestesses typically have powers, the ability to control water? Are priestesses supposed to have insight into the mind? Maybe, this woman was more than a priestess?

Maybe she was a goddess, sent down to live amongst the people, like the myths always describe? Or perhaps an evil spirit, wandering among the humans spreading mischief for her delight and amusement?

Scrambling to his feet, the teenager followed after the priestess, mimicking her graceful bow to the elderly woman. Eyes were wide with curiosity as the two women stepped into a small room and disappeared behind a chestnut colored divider. Garfield noticed the candles, the small tub filled with water, flowers called 'baby's breath' and a single pink aster. What were they for? Lips pursed in interest as the old woman slipped out from the divider and quietly arranged many jewels and trinkets along the edge of the tub.

On closer inspection, all these jewels were what the priestess had been wearing! The teen stared at the small jade stone that had been set in the woman's nose, as well as the bright sapphire toe rings, the dangling golden hoop earrings and the long streaming gold clips that decorated her hair. So much jewelry... What did they all mean? The sound of approaching footsteps drew Garfield out of hie musings. He turned and stared into the cobalt blue eyes of Roy Harper, the last man he really wanted to see. The teen bit his lip and stared at the weapons expert with a wary expression. What was he doing here?

"Come, Gar let me show you something."

Tentatively, Garfield stepped up beside Roy and raised an eyebrow, waiting to hear what the man had to say. It was hard to trust Roy. Especially after what he saw earlier.

"See these earrings?" Roy pointed at a small pair of gold studs. "Every girl receives earrings like this at their first birthday."

"Really?" The young ship-hand stared in fascination and wonder. So Arella has worn these since childhood? "What about those ones?" He asked, pointing to two ornately carved silver bracelets and anklets.

"Silver is very valuable in Azarath and it's usually given at a coming-of-age ceremony. In Arella's case, hers are decorated with charms and spells, showing her status as a priestess."

Garfield blinked. Coming of age ceremony? What was that all about? "Um, and this?" This time, he pointed at a golden ring inlaid with sparkling rubies and a small diamond. It looked very expensive, and he wondered if someone should even be wearing it so openly.

Roy coughed nervously. "This, is an engagement ring, actually. They're rare in Azarath, though. Not many people have them."

A gasp escaped the boy's lips. "E-engagement? Arella's engaged?" Jade eyes now gleamed with confusion astonishment and strangely enough, pain.

"Yes. You've seen the bracelets on her hands and feet. Those were done as part of a binding ceremony. On Azarath, both the bride and groom participate in this binding ceremony."

Garfield stared at Roy in awe. How did he know so much about these customs? Perhaps there was more to the weapons expert than met the eye. A frown scrunched the teenager's pale lips. Could the man be one of those well traveled people? The kind that simply took adventures for the thrill?

The sound of rustling silk drew the deckhand from his musings and he looked up, eyes drawn immediately to the priestess dressed in a thin flowing white robe with gold lining the hems. Garfield watched, transfixed as the elderly woman directed the young priestess to a low stool, sat her down and slowly begin to weave the small white baby-breath flowers into long purple-ish black hair.

He listened to the old woman chant softly, a bewitching musical quality that captivated the green eyed teenager. The boy couldn't help but sway softly, as if dancing to an invisible tune. He could hear the rise and fall of the very tonal language, it's oddly stressed vowels confusing and delighting his ears.

"Mr. Harper, this binding ceremony...why is it done?"

Roy furrowed his eyebrows, a strange thoughtfulness etched on his handsome face. "I believe it started about a hundred years ago, during the Great War. The kingdom of the South waged war against the North...and Azarath and Armenia were caught in the crossfire. Many people were kidnapped and forced to fight for a war they didn't believe in. This ritual was started as a means of identification...so when the war finally ended, the bodies could be brought back and buried properly."

Garfield's eyes were wide with wonder. "This hundred year war...it ended not too long ago, right? Like twenty or so years ago?"

Roy nodded. "Yes. The records and data taken during that time are extremely specific and detailed." A stagnant pause filled the air, then Roy began to speak once more, an odd emotion coloring his voice. The very last person taken was a woman, named Arella. It is in her honor that the ritual still continues...only now, it symbolizes unity, togetherness and love."

"Is Arella a common name on Azarath?" Garfield questioned, finding the names to be too much of a coincidence. If the two Arellas were the same...then the one standing before him, with long white flowing robes, and sparking eyelids would be nearing her forties?

No, it couldn't be... the Arella of the Great War supposedly died in captivity. Without leaving any known descendants. It was impossible.

oOoOo

Moonlight.

Roy Harper cursed his fate as he stumbled through the underbrush, footsteps uncharacteristically clumsy. His breath escaped his lips noisily, making him only too aware of his inadequacies. The whole forest seemed illuminated with the bright eerie glow of the moon...and yet, his feet landed awkwardly on every jutting tree root, stumbled over the ruts in the small hidden walkway. There was light, and yet...he was shrouded in darkness. How does the moon shine so brightly, yet curse him with the void of the night?

Why does the moon cast its loving gaze upon that woman, that devil, while baring his way with emptiness?

The weapons expert crashed through the trees, halting suddenly at the wide and open meadow that stretched on in front of him. Blue eyes widened with begrudging awe as the man took in the young woman darting towards the small brook, white robes flowing gracefully with every footfall. It wasn't right.

It wasn't proper.

It was sacrilege for this demoness to be so enchanting, to be blessed with such beauty...to fill his heart with carnal and evil desires. Callused fingers reached behind, silently pulling out a smooth arrow. Quietly, expertly, the man fitted the projectile onto his bow and drew back, eyebrows narrowed with a calculating solemness. The woman must die...she did not belong in this plane. She was a demon, a child sired from wickedness and raised in hell-fire.

A demon had no place among the living.

Roy Harper closed his eyes, calmly emptying his mind of useless thoughts. It was useless thinking about Garfield's opinion, or about his unhealthy attachment to the demoness. It was fruitless thinking about Richard's quest for vengeance and his need to 'know the truth'. Judgment will be carried out here...the verdict straight and true. Yes, he would send her back where she belonged. He would kill her and fulfill the duty passed down by his forefathers. The arrow flew from his fingertips, whistling silently through the air as it crept closer and closer to its unsuspecting target. Roy crept forward, eyes rapt and serious, breath now quiet and tense.

Waiting.

Roy Harper was waiting to see the arrow strike its target, itching to see crimson spread across that pure white garment, ears straining to listen to the woman as she cried out in pain.

Waiting...

Still waiting...The bow slipped from numb fingers, meeting the grass with a silent thud. Green eyes widened, breath escaped jaw-slackened lips with uneven pants.

Impossible!

Roy Harper, weapons expert, stumbled backwards into the forest, trying desperately to escape the sight of those laughing violet eyes. He turned, ready to flee into the forest...only to stagger out across the meadow, wary of the amused glint in the demoness' eyes. Cobalt blue eyes darted, taking in his bow, forgotten amongst the trees and the intercepted arrow, clenched in the woman's hands.

She caught it. Caught his arrow...without even looking.

"Roy Harper. Weapons Expert. Demon Slayer." She uttered, voice dropping to a deadly snarl. "I've heard many things about you. The way you slaughter my people without remorse, the way you kill innocents in the name of the Church and the Pope."

"Innocents? How can you call those sired of evil, innocents? How can one, in who Lucifer's blood flows, be called innocent? Should they not all be returned to their father in hell?" Roy intoned, a strange bravery flowing through his veins.

"Sired of evil? Kindred of Lucifer? Did they choose their fathers and mothers? Did they ask to be born, to walk upon an earth that despises them, to live amongst a people that hunt and slaughter them like animals! Cease from passing judgment until you have walked in their shoes!" The steel arrow in the woman's hands snapped and she stepped forward, giving the man a threatening shove. Violet eyes flashed, slender eyebrows narrowed, pearly white teeth bared in obvious wrath. "Are you God! Who are you to pass judgment, to deem righteous from unrighteous, sinners from the saved?"

Beautiful.

It was the only word that flashed through Roy Harper's depraved mind as he stared down at the slender woman. The way her eyes glinted with hidden anger, the angry flush coloring her pale pointed cheekbones, those enticing lips that turned down into a seductive pout...

Hands reacted before his mind could restrain them. Desperately, they pressed against her shoulders, pinning her against the broad tree trunk behind them. Swiftly, Roy brought his lips down to hers, reveling in the futile struggle of her now trapped wrists. His tongue pried open the demoness' mouth, drinking in the sharp pants escaping her lips. Roy pressed his body against hers, groaning softly as he rubbed his rising arousal between the woman's legs.

Heat.

Roy could feel it...that delicious heat swelling up in his loins, the burning ache of passion. The need for release. Another primal groan slipped from his mouth as the woman pushed against him, soft mounds of flesh molding against his hard chest.

Heat.

Then ice... Roy gasped as he struggled against the cold icy water, mind reeling to fill in the sudden turn of events. Green eyes stared in awe and terror as the young woman stood before him, pearly white teeth stained with blood.

His blood. Roy licked his lip, the coppery taste bitter and foul in his mouth. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet, trying to curb his growing anger at her incessant laughing.

"Roy Harper. You would force me on my wedding night? Did you think that I, daughter of the Sun Goddess, beloved of the Moon and Ocean Spirits, would submit to you? A mere human?" A look of lofty pride entered her sparkling violet eyes. Icy fingers clamped around Roy's wrist with an immovable grip. Deftly, she pulled him from the water and flung him onto the soft embankment, smirking with amusement when he grunted in pain. "Roy Harper. Who are you, to put your filthy hands on me? Who are you to dare defile a god!"

The demoness flung her wrists into the air, and Roy could only watch as the water rose at her command. Droplets glittered in the still moonlight as they fell around him, their cold touch sending shivers across the man's skin. Green eyes widened, fingers clutched the soft grass of the meadow. She had control of water!

"I, whose command the water obeys."

The young woman stamped her feet against the embankment and the earth beneath him began to tremble and shake. Dumbstruck, Roy watched as the stones began to rise of the ground, filling the air with an eerie rattling. The wind blew harshly, small specks of dust angrily lashing out against his tanned skin.

"I who speaks to the earth, and she listens."

The weapons expert blinked against the increasing wind, scrambling back as the priestess raised her palm into the night sky and called forth fire. Light flared against the darkness, searing heat singed his face as flames shot from her fingertips, coiling round him like a snake poised to strike.

"I keeper of the secrets of fire."

A fearful shout escaped Roy Harper's trembling lips as the sorceress stepped forward, icy fingers gently curling around his wrist. Tensing, he pulled against her grasp, only to still at the steely gaze in her purple orbs. Jade green eyes gaped in fright as the demoness scooped up a handful of earth, and the weapons expert could only gape in awe as tiny sprouts began to shoot forth from the handful of earth.

His astonishment, gave way to unbearable pain. A scream tore from Roy's lips as he watched his hand slowly rot away, the pristine white bones glaring back at him. The acrid smell of rotting flesh entered his nostrils and desperately he pulled against the demoness' iron grip, the urge to vomit silencing his anguished cry.

Violet eyes gazed into his own green orbs. "I who holds life and death in the palm of my hand. Such a person, Roy Harper," she moved forward, pressing her lips gently against his ear. "cannot die."

Poor Roy Harper...I've been watching the British TV show Robin Hood, and I thought 'That's how Roy should be' except a demon slayer. Expert archer, skilled with weapons...manipulated by the Holy Church. Awesome, no?

What do you think of Raven's powers? Forgive me if it seems Avatar-ish. I promise it won't be...she is a half-demon after all.

Review!

~heartless16