This is long, long overdue. I have been working forty plus hours a week, plus going to school full time, and now that I have two degrees and an 8-5 office job, I can get back to doing some of the things I love, this included. I'm super excited to share this story with you, and I can't wait to take you through all the twists and turns to come. I promise, while I may not have been writing the story much, it has not been neglected. Let this be a testament that it has not been forgotten.
In other news, I have plans for two other fanfictions. How to Train Your Dragon: The Seif Way will follow Hiccup and the gang as they discover the hidden society of Seif, who have been friends with dragons for generations. Which sounds great-until they find themselves as prisoners instead of guests. Their only hope for freedom lies in the chief's son, a rebellious lad who has more interest in exploring dragonkind and the world than leading a reclusive society. But when Seif is exposed to Dragon Hunters and the world at large, Hiccup will have to team up with his newfound rival to protect an ancient bloodline that no one knew still existed.
Meanwhile in the MARVEL universe, what would've happen if Steve Rodgers, aka Captain America had a secret ally? He may find himself in over his head though- after all, not everyone is equipped to handle a three hundred pound toddler who can fly and shoot 10,000 volts from her hands- or should I say talons? Heart of a Griffin will explore a world where the Battle of New York was followed by the Battles of Bedtimes, Light Bulbs, and Frustrating Nesting Habits. Now if only Steve could find a babysitter?
Don't worry Game of Deception fans. I'm not posting any more than that until this fanfic is written to its end. Just wanted y'all to know I haven't been twiddling my thumbs over here.
That's enough chatter, I know why you're really here. Without further adieu, allow me to present Rise of the Guardians: A Game of Deception (Remastered)
(London, England- 1820)
Darkness.
Everywhere, everything.
The kind of darkness that chokes, creeping down throats and clinging there. The kind that's so thick every exhale feels ripped from the lungs and every inhale crammed in a space too small to hold. It's the kind that sparks dread and claustrophobia and fear.
And then a little moonlight appeared.
Not much, just a little dot really such a small, trifle, fragile thing. But it was enough.
Enough to drag the shadows to the outside and to force the great white face through. On this cloudy night, the Moon took a breath, appearing long enough to find one lonely, lifeless boy, lying crooked and alone in the alleyway of a cold, heartless city.
It's beams brushed his broken body, healing shattered limbs and pierced heart. They laced gentle fingers through matted hair, turning it silky and silver, and they danced upon the shattered soul within, piecing it together and blessing it with powers unfathomable to man.
The clouds, furious with the moon for daring to disrupt the stillness before the storm, rumbled their protest and swarmed to patch the hole in their realm. Sensing its last seconds, the Moon whispered a name upon the wind and held its ground for a moment more. The last whisper floated easily down to the earth and to the new spirit of the Moon.
"Iago."
Silver eyes opened wide as fresh lungs heaved first breath, barely in time to witness the great white face disappear.
Satisfied, the Moon sighed the name once more. "Iago."
Blinking with confusion the boy sat up, the whispered name racing in his mind. After a moment, understanding replaced his confusion... Yes, he was Iago Meditati, Spirit of... Something... just one lost soul in… Somewhere...
Where WAS he?
As if to answer his unspoken question, a carriage rolled by, the flickering lanterns casting enough light to view the filthy alleyway he, somehow clean and shimmery, laid in. Then they were gone, and Iago listened to the comforting clip-clop of hooves fade into the distance.
Silence persisted in its absence, until the little boy bailed to the dimly lit street as the shadows began their advance. His breath seemed to resemble the life of this street- harsh and ragged, from dreary doorstep to crumbling chimney. Silence was his only company, the carriage having vanished down some forlorn side street. He was truly alo-
"IAGO!" The thunder mocked the Moon.
Startled into survival instincts, the child shot from the ground and climbed and climbed into the sky, intent on climbing until- a raindrop landed on his beak? No, until his heart stopped racing, that's when- ON HIS BEAK?
With another, even more intense jolt of surprise, Iago brought his hands- no, wings- up to his nose, momentarily doubting his eyes.
Until he began to plummet.
Realizing his mistake too late, Iago tried to right himself once more, but to no avail- his hands had returned and he had lost his brief knowledge of flight.
The pelting rain chased him to the ground as he tumbled under gravity's influence, screaming the whole way. The cobblestones beneath him grew closer and closer, and he scrunched his eyes shut as the distance closed with frightening speed. Desperately, he wished those wings would return, allowing himself to briefly imagine what flying for real would have felt like-
Iago felt his arms snap to the sides, and without warning his body lurched to a wrenching halt. Iago pulled up mere feet from the ground, flapping his brand-new bat wings eccentrically. The rain caught up with him, drenching his new, puny body.
"I-AG-O!" The storms screamed and struck out in frustration, wreaking havoc upon a tiny, innocent home. The lightning blast temporarily deafened him, and threw his little bat body across the street and into a wall.
Gasping, Iago shook his furry head from the ground and glanced fearfully at the burning home.
People began swarming to put out the fire, but the ringing in his now sensitive ears drowned out the screams of those trapped within the raging flames.
His thoughts were torn between fear for those poor people, and fear for his health- What had just happened to him? Could the trapped escape the building? Where was his skin, his limbs, his hair? Would the rain put out the fire? Where had this body come from, and this flight instinct? Could he help them?
Without warning, his body began to shift back, and this time Iago could see it happen. He watched with morbid curiosity as his bat wings melted into what looked like liquid mercury, reshaping themselves into arms.
Glancing into a puddle, Iago watched his face turn silver, the short muzzle flattening and his body growing back into the size and shape of a little boy. With a ripple like water that spread from his chest, the color returned to his pale skin and threadbare traveling clothes, his fluffy hair retaining that startling silver color.
Iago closed his eyes again, whimpering as he thought. What was happening to him? Who was he? What was he? All he had to go by was a name.
He was not safe here, he needed to go, he needed to leave. He would find someplace quiet, where he could clear his head and think, find out who he was, how he had arrived here, how he had gotten into this mess. And so, with a deep breath, Iago opened his eyes and stood, taking off at a sprint away from the burning building.
Rain battered his body and wind whipped his hair as he dodged frantic people who paid him no mind. Up ahead, the crowd began to part, and his spirits lifted at the thought of getting out of all this chaos.
Suddenly, he heard the loud neighing of a horse, and the ringing of a bell broke above the clamor. From the dodging crowds a fire carriage broke free, pulled by two giant black steeds- barreling straight towards him.
Iago cried out in terror, skidding to a panicked halt. He was directly in their path as the carriage swiftly came upon him, and for the second time in five minutes he braced himself for a brutal death-
"Look out!"
Something whisked him out of harm's way, and not a moment too soon. The fire carriage charged past with an inch to spare.
Gasping with shock, Iago turned to his rescuer. At first, his mercury eyes could not find anyone, but soon he saw the pale skin glowing from the firelight. A tall, slender man in a black suit, only discernible from the darkness for his skin and sharp blue eyes.
"Careful there, boy!" A cool, Norwegian accented voice accompanied the stranger's cool demeanor and gaze, the gentleman letting go of Iago's arm that he had latched onto.
"You saved my life." Iago whimpered, noticing his own Scandanavian voice with a blink of surprise. The stranger scoffed in response.
"I merely saved you from the unpleasant experience of being run through by a non-spirit horse. Of course, being run over by a spirit horse would certainly be a worse experience."
"S-spirit?" Iago asked, fear creeping into his words. "L-like a ghost? A-a-am I dead!?" The stranger pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.
"What, were you born yesterday, boy?" The man met his gaze again with that cold blue stare, and huffed in exasperation. "Wait, no, let me guess- this is your first night?"
"T-the fireman… He, he didn't s-stop, or shout, or-or anything!-" Iago blabbered, the adrenaline of tonight beginning to wear on him.
"He can't see you." Was the man's reply as if it were obvious. Iago startled in surprise at his words. "They can't see either of us, child."
Iago broke gaze with the stranger, looking around. Hesitantly, he reached a small hand out towards an elderly man who watched the still raging blaze with fear, but Iago's hand sailed clean through his leg like air.
Iago moaned as a disturbing sensation crept across his skin, the deepest, darkest chill anyone had ever felt racing through him. The following shudder violently attacked his body and he gasped in terror.
The man, while suddenly chilled to the bone, stood unperturbed, in fact rushing away.
"It's okay, child." The stranger spoke again, and Iago met his intense gaze. "You'll get used to it." Smiling stiffly in reassurance, the suited man raised an arm to let a woman run right through it, the man not so much as flinching.
"I-I don't understand… Wh-why can I change m-my body like this!?" He held out his arm, and it obligingly rippled into a liquid silver limb. "Do you know what's happening to me!? Is this normal for ghosts!?" The man's eyes widened considerably, but his expression remained otherwise neutral.
"As a matter of fact, child, I know exactly what is happening." The blue gaze moved from Iago's silver limb back to his mercury coloured eyes. "You're a very special boy."
Iago breathed a sigh of relief, his limb reshaping, but he tensed at the stranger's next words:
"You'll make a fine addition to my collection."
Before he could move, the stranger clicked his tongue, and a pair of burly hands grabbed hold of his arms, twisting them over his head and hoisting him off his feet by his wrists.
"Hey! Wait, w-what are you- p-please-" He felt his limbs melting as an escape instinct surged forward, but before he could form, another pair of hands lunged forward, wrapping something around his throat. "STOP-" Without warning his voice cut off, and his cry of pain was silent as his shifting was forcefully stifled.
The stranger filled his vision again, and his thin hand forced Iago's chin up to eye level. "Don't worry, boy. I always take good care of my exotic specimen."
Panic took over as the stranger let go, and he was stuffed into a canvas bag, thrashing uselessly against the confining cloth.
It was a hopeless endeavor trying to escape that way.
'Why is this happening to me!?'' Iago wondered as he was roughly tossed over someone's shoulder.
This sick, twisted joke of a life had to be the worst thing he could remember.
Which wasn't saying much, considering his best memory so far was a near brush with death.
He feared to dream what these evil men were going to do with him.
From outside the bag, the fire cackled and the thunder roared with laughter. Even the wind got in on the game- "Iaaaaaaaagoooooooo!" The emptiness inside crushed him into deep despair, and the fear was overwhelming.
"IAGO! IAGO! IAGOOOO!" The storm outside matched the storm within him and with nothing left to believe in, Iago let himself sink into fear.