Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Hi everyone!

Thanks to the response, though we'd love to see more of what you really think in the form of a review. :) Let us know!

We've decided to update about every 2 or 3 days, because it's all written and we know how we're dividing chapters now.

We hope you all like it... and here's the second chapter! After this one, it will most likely be divided as one chapter-one POV.

See you down the bottom! Enjoy! :)

~o0o~
October 31, 2011 ~ Peter ~ The Underworld
18 Years Old
~ By Spudzmom ~

He was just putting the finishing touches on his latest wall etching when his daily tray slid through the slot in his door. A bitter smirk twisted his lips. The cowards. They never set foot in his cell any more. Not since he'd turned 13 and his power had manifested.

Oh, it wasn't as though they'd learned their lesson with the first jailer he'd toasted, but after the third…they'd installed the slot and no one had set foot in his cell since.

Placing his 'etching tool'—which was really a fork he had pilfered from his tray— down, he went and took a seat on his pallet, pulling the tray close so that he could relax back as he ate. At least he didn't have to practically inhale his food as he use to when he was small. He now had ample time to enjoy each bite as he studied his first completed etching that covered the opposite wall of his cell. It was a depiction of a pentagram, such as the mark on his inner wrist. He'd even carved the eye into the center.

He still, to this day, had no idea what any of it meant, nor why his body was marked in such a way, but he could certainly speculate. He knew the girl he'd always dreamed of had the same mark on her inner wrist and he figured the two of them were connected by more than just dreams; or at least, they were meant to be. His growing up in this dank, dark cell sort of hampered the development of relationships.

He scoffed quietly at his thoughts, reaching for his mug of milk as his thoughts turned bitter and sarcastic for a moment. He tried not to get this way. He tried to stay positive, but it was damned difficult when he'd been locked in this stone cell his entire life with no hope of escape and no human contact. Well, no tangible human contact, that is.

There were the dreams of course, which he'd continued to learn from. It seemed that whatever Isabella was learning at the time was always conveyed to him as he slept; everything from school subjects to the meditation and martial arts she had taken up over the years.

He knew that she'd had trouble with other kids bullying her over the years. It was just one more thing that made him feel a kinship with her. After all, who would know better than he the cruelty of human kind?

He'd always wished that he could help when he witnessed such mistreatment of her, but his thoughts and feelings were all he had. It was never enough and his frustration had built through the years. He felt inadequate, helpless to stop her pain and that was a terrible feeling.

He smiled a wan smile as he took in the likeness of her beautiful face he'd etched into the wall next to where he slept. He reached out and traced her face with gentle fingers. He could never do her justice, but he'd come close enough that the image brought him comfort during his waking hours, when he was without his dream connection to her; for that's exactly what it was he was now sure…a connection. She was real, very real and living her life somewhere in the world at this very moment and that knowledge gave him the hope and will to go on each day.

He was distracted from his thoughts by a package sliding through the slot in the door. It was wrapped in brown paper and bound with twine. He reached over and picked it up. It was clothing. He didn't have to guess. As the years had progressed and his growth had accelerated, his jailers had begun to provide new clothing for him each year, always on his birthday. He was now eighteen years old.

He stared off into the middle distance, his mind numb with the realization that he'd been here for so long and not only that, but also the knowledge that, for him, there was no end in sight as long as he drew breath.

Shaking himself quickly from the depressing train of his thoughts, he decided to meditate. He had found that the practice helped immensely with his frame of mind and allowed him to try to connect with a well of power deep within himself that he'd only recently discovered. It was something that he wanted to make a permanent connection with because he just knew, somehow, that it would be a necessity someday.

Relaxing his whole body, he concentrated on clearing his mind. This part had been very difficult for him to achieve when he'd first begun the practice. After all, what else did he really have but his own thoughts and company. How do you clear that after so many years of living inside your own head? It took time and practice, but he'd finally mastered it and now he could be cleared and centered, sinking deep within himself within scant minutes of beginning, just as he was now.

Further and further he went, deep within himself as he searched out that well of power that he knew to be at his center.

He was so far within himself that he never even realized when he began to whisper an ancient chant, the language so old that it had been lost to mankind for millennia.

So far within that he missed the anguished and angered shouts that echoed from the throne room of the Underworld.

So far within that the heat and light emanating from his body never registered in his conscious mind and neither did the frantic pounding on his cell door.

The desperate guards, frantic at the sounds of their Lord's anguished cries, finally overcame their fear enough to open his door, only to gasp and stumble back at the heat and light that overwhelmed and blinded them.

What they missed, what they could not see, would have put the fear of the great Sun God Ra into them; the boy, who was now a young man, had finally found and connected with his center, the ancient power that lived inside him, and was now at peace for the very first time in this life.

~o0o~
October 31, 2011 ~ Bella ~ Phoenix, AZ
18 Years Old
~ By ncbexie25 ~

Bella was left panting as she felt the sudden surge of heated power running through her veins. She looked down at her hands, flipping them palm and back, and then again a few times. She wondered what that had meant.

"Bella! Time to go to school, darling!"

She sighed to herself and got her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "Coming, Mom!"

Adequately distracted by the prospect of another unpleasant day, all thoughts of the strange experience left her. Her mind was preoccupied with the lessons that followed in the morning and into the afternoon, as she immersed herself in her work as she always did. She spent the day as she always did—quiet, reserved, and utterly alone. She had learned to ignore the stares and whispers that exploded around her like a steady, constant hum.

And yet, all through school, she still felt the strange sensation, that hum of power, that she had felt this morning. It was diluted as time went on, but it was always there, a constant.

At lunch, she meditated, or tried to—she found herself distracted by the hum of heated, almost electric power still. She could barely focus her thoughts, and found that, as she walked around the school grounds during lunch, her eyes, and her ears—hell, all of her senses—zoned in on the different people. She was alert, almost as if she could sense the possible danger around her. She could hear every word of people she passed by, even if they were on the other side of the courts, and it was the same for her eyes—she could see much farther.

It was strange, but she forced herself not to panic. It was easy, really; she was so used to the strange.

Her mom picked her up once school was finished, and dropped her off at the Martial Arts building. She'd been taking classes for the past few years, having approached her parents about it a few months after the second incident with the Sun when she was being bullied.

Since she had started, the bullies had stayed away, and she had felt empowered. She started to recognize and, dare she think it, revel in their fright of her. As long as she intimidated them, she was safe.

As she got dressed for her lesson, she allowed herself to think of Peter, smiling to herself as she pictured him. Their relationship was a strange one, if you could even call it a relationship. She still wasn't totally convinced that he was actually real—she couldn't allow herself to hope and be disappointed for the rest of her life if he wasn't, if the dreams stopped.

So much had changed… so much had grown.

Ever since her thirteenth birthday, she had felt as though something was different. There was an aspect to the dreams that she felt was suddenly being shrouded… but she couldn't be sure what it was. All she knew was that whatever it was, it felt awfully important.

Added to that was the deeper connection she had forged with Peter. They now had a way of communicating. Well, kind of. It wasn't verbal, and it wasn't even straight forward.

But there was a heightened connection, and it didn't even seem completely… normal.

She didn't know how, but she could hear his voice in the dreams… and the words he spoke resonated within her. She could just never remember the exact phrasing once she woke up.

She blushed as she thought that her favorite dreams were the ones where she watched him drawing her on the rocks of his cell walls… or when he was working out, the sweat pouring and making his clothes cling to him like a second skin. Her whole body lit up at just the thought.

Bella took a calming breath to steady herself, shaking her head to clear it of her thoughts. She needed to focus.

The moment she entered the huge practice room, she knew something was going to happen. She felt all her senses heighten, alerting herself to some sort of half-danger. She knew she would have to protect herself.

She eyed the other male in the room with her teacher, and realized what it was that she would have to 'protect' herself from. Her teacher had warned her of this.

Today she would fight with someone else.

She felt a steady heat growing hotter and gasped as she felt her marks searing. Looking down at them, Bella saw that they were glowing perhaps brighter than they ever had. It was almost blinding.

She looked back at her opponent, his back still to her, and then around the room, looking for any advantages she might have. There were none.

Part of her mind registered that this was no big deal. It wasn't like this man would hurt her, that was not what this was about. It was about assessing her skills in martial arts. But yet still some part of her felt a raw, electrifying power steadily rising within her very core, a heat resonating from somewhere deep inside her. It was a feeling that, before today, she had felt to only a very small degree. It was so much stronger now after her dream of Peter's own power growing and connection more fully with his own core. Was it possible that her power—whatever it was—was also strengthening and manifesting fully within her as a direct result? She had always felt protective of him; as if it were duty… was it possible that she would now manifest a power of some sort in order to be able to do that?

She snorted at herself, as she so regularly did when thoughts such as these arose within her mind. That was utter bullshit. There was just no way that that would happen. It was a dream. That was all.

But then those thoughts were irrelevant… because she was going to face her opponent whether she was ready or not.

Her teacher introduced them, and she eyed him, her eyes surveying him for his strengths and weaknesses. There was an ancient power that she did not recognize—that she was not ready for—that was a fierce warrior, fierce protector. This—combat—was what she knew.

And then they were to begin. She stood, waiting for his advance, and for a few moments, he did the same. But when he threw the first leaping kick, her senses were alert as they had never been before, and the power that she had felt the entire day manifested—physically, much as Peter's had.

All of a sudden, in a rush of motion and something she could not identify at that moment, her opponent was several feet away from her, on his back.

She gasped and looked at him, blinking, before looking back down at herself. Her eyes widened even further until it was like her eyes were popping out of her head when she saw it.

A faint, glimmering, blue barrier… like a protective glove… and it was surrounding her body, receding to conform around her body, the color disappearing when it did so. But it had formed a perfect circle around her body surrounding her body and a few feet around her just moments before.

Bewildered though she was, for the very first time in her life, she felt truly empowered and confident. No one could touch her now. Not if she didn't want it.

She couldn't know it was the power of the Goddess Ra, wife of God Ra, which was just awakening within the depths of her soul.

~o0o~
October 31, 2014 ~ Peter ~ The Underworld
21 Years Old
~ By Spudzmom ~

The young man sat in the center of the pentagram he'd drawn with golden flames conjured from his own hands, a gentle glow emanating from his body, filling the cell with a soft, golden light. He was 21 today.

In the years since his eighteenth birthday, when he'd connected fully to his core, he'd mastered the command of the power he'd discovered within and could now wield it with precision.

He stared down at his hands that rested atop his knees, palm up and relaxed. They were clean, as was his entire body; free from all filth and impurities. He smiled. It was a very welcomed benefit of the heat and flame that lived inside him. Before his eighteenth birthday, when his power had only manifested in dire circumstances, he hadn't realized just how filthy and revolting he'd been since to him, it had been a normal way of living. He'd never known any different, but now he reveled in simply being clean.

His thoughts moved to the pentagram depicted with the low controlled flames he'd used to fashion it. The knowledge of the pentagram and its use had come to him during one of his many meditation sessions and afterward, he'd felt a compulsion to draw it out and use it when he meditated or practiced with his power. For some reason, doing so made him feel more connected with the light and open sky that he knew to exist, though he'd never witnessed them with his own eyes. Still, centered as he was within it, he could feel his power reaching… growing… resonating; it was a feeling like no other he'd ever experienced and he soon came to anticipate the times when he allowed himself the luxury.

There were also those times when he would simply sit, perfectly centered and just relax. Usually when he did this, he would feel a gentle hum all around and even through his body. He would always try to do this just before going to sleep because it allowed him to relax so completely. It felt as though every cell in his body had just had a gentle massage and he reveled in the comfort of it.

Bringing himself from his random thoughts, he decided it was time to exercise his gift and mind, just as he exercised his body in the earlier hours of his day.

However, just as he was beginning his controlled breathing, he heard his tray slide through the slot in his door. He sighed. Meditation and practice would have to wait. It was time to eat and he couldn't afford to skip a meal, not with the physical and supernatural demands he put upon his body and mind.

Rising gracefully to his feet, he lazily waved a hand, smiling as the low flames of his pentagram extinguished at once. Perhaps it was ridiculous to enjoy such a simple thing, but being trapped within these four stone walls for his entire life as he'd been, he'd learned to appreciate pleasures no matter how small.

This explained the approach he took to eating his one meal a day. Ever since they'd left him in peace…he smirked wickedly to himself and rephrased the thought in his mind…Ever since he'd toasted the absolute shit out of three of the jailers, he'd been able to slow down and savor each bite of food on the tray. He never rushed through his meals now and he vowed that he never would again.

As he ate slowly and with relish, he allowed his thoughts to wander to Isabella, perfectly picturing her beautiful face and form in his mind. He thought about her rare smiles and captivating laugh that she'd bestowed on him through their dream connection and his heart ached to hold her and love her in the real world. He sighed and shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. It wasn't good to let himself dwell in thoughts of her for too long.

He'd had to establish limits on the time he spent thinking of her because it had become almost painful for him to do so. There was a longing so deep in his soul for her that he found himself slipping into despair at his inability to see her with his own eyes or touch her creamy skin. The more he thought about her, the more unbearable his circumstances became to him and such a development was not a positive for his state of mind.

He wasn't exactly sure why, but he knew that he had to stay positive, had to stifle any despairing thoughts. He felt down deep that it was vital, to not only his well being in this place but for the future, whatever that may hold. And so, during his waking hours, he allowed himself only the briefest snippets of thought concerning her and consoled himself with the knowledge that he would see her in his dreams. This had to be enough…for now.

Finally finished with his meal, he rose from his pallet and centered himself in the pentagram once again. Raising both hands, he concentrated on conjuring the flames, watching in pleasure as the fiery circles and lines manifested around him.

Resettling his hands atop his knees, palms up, he began his controlled breathing, his mind clearing almost in an instant, allowing him to sink into his center within moments.

The glow from his body brightened and a gentle wind began to circulate in the cell, softly mussing and whipping his shoulder length blond hair around his head and face. He took no notice though, so deep into his center was he.

He also never noticed when his body began to slowly rise from the stone he was sat upon, nor when an ancient chant fell from his lips, his head tilting back slightly as he raised his hands to the unseen sky above.

The flames of the pentagram rose higher and higher, surrounding their master's body as the volume of the chant rose in equal measure with the wind that now whistled around him in the cell.

His voice was almost a shout now as the words to an ancient prophecy began to pour forth from him in the controlled chaos. A prophecy that was being spoken by Isabella at precisely this same moment, thousands of miles away.

Thrice the Sun shall rise for his Lioness,

Twice the Sun shall recede to Darkness' depth.

Thrice the Lioness shall seek her Sun,

And twice the Moon shall overshadow.

Once shall Lioness and Sun unite,

To bring war of Sun too bright.

For powers of light that be,

They shall unite that once and as is their will,

so mote they overcome,

The dark evil of the Moon!

With the sound of the last shouted word of the prophecy echoing off the walls, the flames engulfed his body completely and his breath caught as the overwhelming feeling of spinning and falling overtook him. He only experienced the barest moment of fear however, as he lost consciousness, his vivid blue eyes rolling back and closing as his body went slack.

Thus the bulk of his journey was made in peaceful oblivion.

Thus was he ignorant of landing in a heap at his final destination.

Thus was he unaware of the gentle, trembling touch to his face.

The very first touch from the mate of his soul…

The girl he'd loved forever…

Isabella.

And with that, we leave you for a few days. ;)

As I said up the top, thanks for your interest, and I hope we see a more comments from you all! We both do so love our reviews; it's the real cherry on top with his whole Fanfiction writing thing, haha!

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Spuxie.