Mugen: Infinite Positive  (A Circles of Time tale)
Rated R


THE LIGHT:

     
     The more you fight, the more the sacrifices for this 
     peace are wasted. You should know that...Try to 
     believe in the world around us now!

                    -Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz


     Magik is arbitrary. Black, white, grey: colour is
irrelevant. Magik knows no love or emnity, no fear or honour. It
only knows itself, that which is magik. The user determines the
shape the magik shall take when it is manifested. It is the user
who can create or destroy. Magik cannot differentiate, cannot be
blamed. The soul is what moves magik, be it a black heart of cold
stone, or a fragile heart of beauty and truth. 
     One day all this knowledge, this magik, shall fade, and be
forgotten, and become just a legend spoken to little children at
bedtime. Magik shall become magic, and shall be given colours.
Only a handful of souls will ever remember such a time as this,
when magik was the life and breath of the Earthworld and its
solar system.
     Time passes, as it always has and always shall forever,
ending yet neverending in the boundary that marks eternity. And
with time comes change: of worlds, of faces, of legends and
myths. Time does indeed change. But the magik shall always remain
the same, and stay with us until eternity itself comes to an end.
     You can try to forget the magik, but it shall never forget
you. If you were once destined to wield it, you shall wield it
once more. Black, white, grey; it does not matter.
     I am His lordship Chaos.
     One of many writers who have come together to craft an epic
spanning the millennia and legends of a world first created by
Naoko Takeuchi. The Senshi are her children, the original tale
hers to tell. But the other tales and other souls we have drawn
into this realm belong to those who have created Circles of Time.
Naoko has her children, as do I have mine. I, as do all the other
writers of this epic, ask for your permission should you wish for
our children to enter another realm.
     But for now, let the eternal night fall as silence swallows
up the brilliant light of the future. 
     Listen to the tale I have to tell you.
     For time is of the essence....


          -His lordship Chaos (hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com)
                 http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/9897/ct.htm


     Darkness.
     A vast emptiness of space countered with the brilliant lives
of a thousand stars. Shimmering lives all reflected within a
seemingly endless display of the cosmos. Galaxies unfolded all
around it, nebulae and clusters defying a shadowy realm that
still unrelentingly clutched to as much of the universe as it
could.
     Here in both the unknown depths of darkness and the beauty
of the flickering light, it existed. Essence was a part of it yet
not as we would call essence. Form was an arbitrary thing, and it
grasped this quite well. It could change its form. It could alter
its essence.
     Yet it had no reason to.
     Here, locked within an outer reach of space, it existed. In
a place it would have called home...had it understood what such a
word might mean.
     Something abruptly defied its borders, and it shifted once
more out of defensive measures. Essence changed forms and
properties.
     A figure stood before the entity. Human. Winds unseen played
with the edges of his dark robes, the ends pushing as far from
his body as they could. Metal rings looped within an intricately
fashioned ornamental head chimed quietly from their place atop
his shakujyo. The figure was quiet, penitent, letting it shift
and shift again until it shifted once more and calmed down. Eyes
slowly opened, his face tilting upwards to behold this creature.
And the eyes were like the heavens: rich in midnight and shadows
yet alive with small but shimmering lights.
     The Raithe stared up at the alien entity. Hotaru's ascension
as a samurai apprentice of Aurora was now completed. The glaive
was hers to wield. Her task was, for now, over; his was only just
beginning.
     A voice.
     Inside his mind.
     <<you...who are you to disturb me>>
     Tearing apart his mind in speaking in his mind speaking to
apart tear his mind apart. Oh such a strange form he was but a
pretty one oooh gimme kiss you look so pretty. Disturb.
     He disturbed it.
     Disturb.
     bitsdru.
     It was it what was it to strudib it?
     The Raithe winced, fighting back the dizziness. For the
first time since he could ever remember, being a telepath was the
worst possible thing to be. Such a creature...it's thought
patterns were to him completely erratic, like a deaf man trying
to sort through background static. The only thing that made a
shred of sense was the insanity creeping into the back of his
mind.
     "My name means nothing," the Raithe spoke, lightly pressing
his fingertips against the side of his head. The throbbing was
slowly subsiding. "What I am here for means everything."
     It read his mind.
     <<home>>
     Be home they of Earth home to be of home. Home of pain of
love of death but what is home and why love and why death and why
not pain? Voices asking. So many questions. Home is of questions
of pain and tearing apart his mind in speaking to be a home.
     He nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly. As if to clear the
dizziness of his swirling thoughts. "Hai...a place called Earth.
A new place for you to exist. A new essence for you to become."
     It was getting easier for him to clear this insane clatter.
To think that it could effect one like him, an Ancient, in such a
deadly fashion; how could anyone without knowledge of magik hope
to keep their minds pure?
     Yet confusion was relative.
     This entity understood its own thoughts, was perplexed by
the fact that he could not follow the same. Likewise there was a
mutual confusion when he spoke. How does one define 'home' to an
entity who doesn't even know what 'roof' or 'earth' or 'soul'
meant.
     Abstract conversations in abstract time.
     <<why should i leave>>
     He suddenly felt as if he had been here before this entity
for centuries on end. A weariness, fatigue of the mind.
Transferring and transforming the physical. Yet despite what he
felt, the Raithe's lips betrayed an enigmatic smile.
     There was something they both understood.
     Curiousity.
     The creature shifted once more, and drew closer. It was
intrigued. Still confused, but intrigued never the less. By the
same token he could imagine the confusion and frustration this
entity was enduring just to comprehend him.
     <<how should i leave>>
     "I can create a portal that would bring you to my world,"
the Raithe answered.
     <<now>>   
     He shook his head. "Iie. It has taken me countless years and
almost all of my magik to bring me to this place, yet I am only a
spectre here before you."
     A binding of Shadowspell and StarChamber.
     To exist and yet not.
     Become ghost yet remain real.
     The StarChamber only worked two ways if there was a second
gateway on the other side. Here in the midst of these star
clusters, there was no such fortune. A nexus, a gateway, would
have to be created.
     He was not the one to do this.
     Not in a hundred years could he understand the complexities
of this alien entity's mind. He would be driven insane within a
year or two--provided through some miracle he actually lasted
that long.
     The Raithe knew the extent of his powers. He understood what
it meant to have incredible magik at his grasp. And he also kept
an eternal vigil on the limitations of what he could perform. The
ones who became arrogant in their magik were the first to die.
     Usually by their own devices.
     No...he could not create a gateway. Instead there would have
to be a mergence. Of alien and human. A hybrid who could
establish the doorway.
     Eyes of midnight heavens looked to the entity. "I desire one
of your children."
     <<daemon egg...you want my daemon egg>>
     "I have already found a suitable container," he stated. The
shakujyo was caught by another unseen wave of wind, the metallic
rings chiming together once more. "Give her your powers, your
wisdom, and she will unlock the gateway between our worlds. Earth
shall become your home."
     Home it was to love and kiss and love a home. 
     Heart and home and hearth.
     Gimme kiss.
     <<what is home>>
     "You comprehend the essence of curiousity," he countered.
"There is something you do not understand yet desire to know.
Give me a daemon egg, and you can discover it for yourself."
     The alien entity shifted and pulsated once more. It was
deliberating in its own unique way. One eye became hundreds of
eyes, all fixated on him. And then the eyes were all sealed, the
form changing.
     "A warning, though," the Raithe added solemnly. "Earth is
far different a reality from this one you now exist within.
Choose a form. Integrate."
     <<form>>
     Good or evil or bad or nice and naughty. Kiss of love and
glare of hate. Oooh, those eyes which reflected with so many
stars, could he pluck out a constellation if he tried with so
many pretty stars but was that truly good or bad?
     The Raithe abruptly caught his wrist, restraining his one
hand which had now taken a life of its own. Fingers stretched
forth, straining to tear out his eye from its socket. It was
acting on the lunatic impulse of incomprehension.
     A mouth opened up in the middle of his hand.
     "I love you now gimme good pain," it said.
     The Raithe hissed, winds of magik rustling the folds of his
darkened robes. Eyes flashed in a brilliant light, his expression
turning almost murderous. The mouth in his palm shrieked and bit
down on a tongue that was sloppily running along his wrist. The
tongue was severed by the rows of small teeth, limply falling as
a trail of blood ran down his arm.
     "Kuso," he said between deeps gasps for air, his body
chilled by this violation.
     It was dissecting his very soul.
     <<good>>
     He looked up at the shifting entity before him. Its essence
was trying to reform itself to his mind, his thoughts. The
process alone could kill him with disturbing ease...and he
doubted that this alien would fully grasp what had happened.
     <<what is this>>
     The Raithe ran his fingers down the palm of his hand; the
mouth was gone. Whatever madness had created it was gone, and the
disease relented to his own powers. But the blood...that was all
too real. Like the tongue flopping around at his feet.
     He crushed it beneath his boot.
     "A choice," he stated, reaching out and grasping hold of his
hovering staff. "A decision how we make our homes: through fear,
or through compassion."
     <<i...do not understand>>
     Midnight eyes glanced down at the remains of the crushed
tongue. "That makes two of us," he muttered.
     It was confused. 
     At least in that respect he could relate.
     End of the world end of the world end of the world end of
the world end of-- 
     <<what is a human>>
     "One who holds the capacity to choose," the Raithe answered
solemnly. "To take a form of good or evil. 
     His violated hand flexed, clenching into a fist and then
relaxing.
     <<happy>>
     "It is in the eyes of the one who chooses. Happiness, like
good or evil, is relative. It depends on the person. Evil can
make some people very happy."
     <<good and evil are happy...do not understand>>
     The Raithe shook his head. "I will not dictate what form you
should choose in coming to Earth. Integrate with your own mind."
     The alien form pulsated and rippled, essence changing form
and collapsing upon itself once more only to give way to a new
shape.
     The Raithe glanced back down at his hand.
     He had come too close to losing against the dementia. It was
unsafe for him to remain any longer. An answer had to be given;
destiny was on the line. And so he gambled, drawing the shakujyo
closer to him before starting to turn away.
     <<accept>>
     Movements were frozen. For a moment his eyes closed, and the
air he had not quite realized he was holding in was released. The
Raithe turned back to the alien entity.
     A glowing light was hovering before him, its rays casting
playful shadows across his form. The source of the light was a
creation he had been searching to find for centuries. At long
last he had uncovered its location...and darkest of truths. His
hand gently closed around the daemon egg, magik sealing it away
in a safe place.
     The Raithe bowed before the entity. "You will know when the
time has come for you to make Earth your home. I shall send for
you...Pharaoh Ninety."


                 MUGEN: (ì+) INFINITE POSITIVE
                                
                    (A Circles of Time tale)


     Earth was strangely quiet tonight.
     It could have easily been attributed to the establishment of
peace across the Solis system. Begun with the now legendary Arthur,
king of Great Britain, a reign of prosperity had slowly reached out
to encompass the entire Earth. Not soon afterwards it had spread
across space and planets. Aurora, sister planet to Mars, home of
the ancient Weaponeers, had been the first to ally itself with what
became a golden age of civilization. It was the time of the Golden
Empire under Arthur the Pendragon.
     There was so much to hope for. So much to enjoy in the
fellowship of other people, other planets.
     And yet this comforted him not.
     He was upon the parapet, sitting on the cold stone of its
battlements, legs dangling over the side. Eyes the colour of the
blue ocean after a storm stared down at the ground far far below.
For a moment he contemplated throwing himself over, to feel the
euphoric chance to fly with the wings of a bird, or even an angel.
But common sense prevailed, and so there he remained.
     From here he could see but a fraction of the world that laid
beyond these castle walls. Walls he had never been outside of for
as long as he could remember. They were the stone walls of Vlatmere
castle, pinnacle for the Eastern kingdom of Arthur's realm,
presided over by Lord Endymion. His father.
     But that was becoming less and less a reality for them all. He
closed his eyes, trying to find a way to numb the pain. His father
was dead, had been for some time now. And not even the greatest of
the Healers had been able to find a way to stop the affects of the
black poison, let alone understand what the poison was in the first
place.
     For a while his father was bedridden, each day becoming less
and less able to carry on with the duties of looking over the
Eastern countries. And then all too quickly the duty and honour of
ruling was passed onto him. To gain so much, but at a cost he
didn't want to consider.
     Through the entire ordeal he had continued clinging to a hope
that Lord Michael Endymion might survive, that his father would
live to rule over Vlatmere for another twenty years. 
     "I thought I would find you here."
     A new voice shattered the uneasy silence he was brooding
within. 
     Magellan Endymion turned his head. 
     He was prince of twenty-one, already an envisioned hero in
such an early prime of his life. The whispers of his name being
spoken of within the walls of the great Camelot had not escaped his
ears. Yet the pride he would have otherwise taken in such an
accomplishment was weighed down by the mood he was under tonight.
     His friend sighed in exasperation.
     "Dammit, Magellan, you're no fun when you're like this! Look,
you've even managing to depress me. Me! Frederic, the best archer
in the country, the best drinker at any tavern and the best lover
in any woman's bed."
     A smile crept its way onto Magellan's face.
     Frederic walked up to the battlements, leaning against the
stone he was sitting upon. Fiery red hair danced leisurely in the
gentle evening breezes, only adding to Frederic's playfully pouting
expression.
     "Tell you what," Frederic said, slapping him on the back.
"I'll take you out to the nearest tavern we can find, and get you
so damned drunk you'll even forget what it means to be a dignified
prince."
     Magellan rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you,
Commander?" Abruptly he paused, taking a more candid look at his
friend. "What about Myung?"
     Myung.
     A princess of Venus, fallen to Earth in a crash that should
have very well killed her. It seemed to have killed everyone else.
And yet the mystery behind her identity was not what was plaguing
him; her transport's demise was not an accident. No mere mechanical
flaw.
     Someone, or else something, had targeted her.
     And that someone or something was incredibly powerful.
     The answers to that were unknown. His own instinct drew him 
towards the rogue forces which Camelot had dubbed 'the Shadows'. A
revolution stemming from a carefully constructed and executed 
rebellion. Raiders terrorizing the villages of outer provinces were
growing in numbers each day. There were whispers of a leader,
though each one differed depending on the source.
     Some said it was Merlin, who had all but completely withdrawn
from Camelot's affairs as of recently. Merlin, who for all other
purposes was considered missing, who had the power to keep the
origins of this revolution kept secret. Merlin, who was opposed to
Arthur leaving a slowly unravelling Earth for the diplomatic talks
on Neptune.
     Others said it was the Elven race lurking in the island
forests of Arana. They had the power and the magik to pull off such
incredibly orchestrated raids. The Elven, who had reasons for
wanting the Golden Empire upon this planet to crumble apart and be
destroyed.
     Others still whispered of demons, of living shadows and
necromancy. Reports and rumours blurred together to give accounts
of entities from different galaxies and systems, of creatures
rising up from the fiery depths of hell, and a mysterious reference
to the 'Senshi Wars'--whatever that was.
     Magellan suspected that the highest echelons within Camelot
knew exactly who it was. Arthur, his Knight Commanders, and
possibly a few others. He suspected further that if the true
identity of the instigator were discovered by the public, it would
create an even greater panic.
     An abrupt and deliberate cough from Frederic snapped him out
of his thoughts. "Magellan," his friend said. "You're brooding
again. Damn, you need a good drink more than I thought." Frederic
gestured to the access door leading back down into the castle.
"Come on; let our fallen princess rest."
     A smile crept across Magellan's face for a moment as he saw
within his mind her long blonde hair tied back with a yellow
ribbon, and brilliant blue eyes which betrayed her seemingly
youthful age. He probably held the same sort of saddened eyes; it
was hard to let go of a loss. And he was still grieving in the
midst of his new duties as Vlatmere's lord and governor.
     He swung his feet over the battlement, hopping down from the
stone and onto the floor. However, when he looked at his companion,
he found himself the object of a disheartening sigh.
     "Get that dumb grin off your face," Frederic stated. "You're
making me nauseous here."
     "What?"
     Frederic laughed, finding amusement in having to explain what
should have seemed obvious. "You obviously have a thing for her, my
friend. I've seen it before; that whole victim-hero thing. Or at
least it goes something like that."
     He waved his fingers in the air as if to prove a point, or at
least making the gestures to compliment his words. 
     That in turn caused Magellan to smile to himself. If what he
was feeling was anything close to affection for Myung, it was born
out of something deeper than mere circumstance. "Why so eager about
tonight, Frederic?" he asked.
     Frederic's playful smile faded. "You know why," his friend
stated evenly. "Don't make me humour your melancholy state,
Magellan."
     They both knew why he had to be a part of this.
     His father.
     Magellan took one final glance at the world beyond Vlatmere
castle, the only home he had ever known. The midnight heavens were
clear tonight, hundreds of thousands of stars twinkling down upon
them. And the crescent moon was strangely radiant on this night, as
if another form of magik was unfolding before their eyes, unseen
and unknown. 
     He looked away, and followed Frederic down into the labyrinth
of palace halls.


     Every night she had a dream.
     She dreamt of something she could vaguely remember. 
     She dreamt about dark corridors and dark worlds. She dreamed
a dream, or dreamed a nightmare. She ran with something breathing
down her neck, chasing after her with relentless endurance and
merciless taunting and the gleam of a curved, savage blade. No
matter how hard she ran, or how fast, with her heart beating like
a jackhammer on final overload and sweat being flung like a wet
blanket around her face, she knew it was coming for her. 
     She never saw it, for she ran in a tunnel without light but
still seeing everything perfectly. Yet she remained unable to see
this source of immense and forbidding fear, and there was a part of
her that didn't want to. And night after hellish night she was
plagued with this unconscious torture, cursed to run forever within
a dream from a living shadow, a nightmare blacker than oblivion. 
     She could only pray to one day send it there.
     But for now all she could do was run. Each night she sensed it
approaching out of the corner of her mind, and she began to flee
within her dream. It pursued, feeding off her tears and adrenaline
and terror. It drew closer with each step, letting her know that
she had entered a place where angels feared to tread. 
     And then, right when she turned around and see the metal of
the savage blade lunging for her throat, she tore open her eyes and
leaped from her bed, crystal blue eyes wide in fear, heart on the
verge of stopping altogether, her covers drenched in salty sweat as
long blonde hair clung to her cold and damp body. And she had those
eyes burned into her vision for one more day, one more eternity.
Those eyes, watching her with evil glee. 
     It was stalking her now.
     Those eyes...violet and rich and of purest destructive evil.
They were beyond her imagination. Beyond her dreams. Beyond her
darkest fears. 
     They were watching her. 
     The eyes in the dark.
     "Serenity...."


     It surprised him to discover that he had fallen asleep. Dragon
green eyes fluttered open, and he tilted his head to the ceiling.
A warm grogginess accompanied his return to the world of the waking
souls; the chill in the air reminded him that it was still the dead
of night.
     The Elven lord stirred in being roused, unfolding his arms
from his chest and stretching out his legs. He winced as he felt
stiff muscles protest against his movements.
     "Damn," he muttered.
     Fingers moved to brush aside the stray bangs of silver hair
that were draped around his face. He yawned, taking in the dim
outlines of these chambers. The candles at the edges of the paper
screens were still burning; enchantment allowed them to give light
to the darkness, without a threat of igniting the wood all around
them.
     Kakkyou pushed away from the wooden beam he had once been
sitting against, grimacing as he twisted his back. The trees of
Arana were never this callous to his limber form. He adjusted the
folds of his garments, muttering a quick incantation. Magik rose
from beneath him, ripples of unseen wind causing his clothes to
rustle in succession from the bottom up.
     A way of cleansing the garments without actually washing them.
A handy Elven trick, one he was smug in knowing that the humans had
yet to discover it. However, despite his clothes being refreshed,
he still felt the sweat from enduring another long night.
     But for her, he gladly endured it one moment at a time.
     "Serenity," he said quietly, fondly.
     He turned to the only true item other than himself within
these walls and paper screens. A bed, a mattress and covers laid
out upon the floor. Yet the one who had once been sleeping beneath
the covers was gone, the blankets in disarray. For a moment, he was
tense.
     She had vanished while he slept.
     A cool breeze moved past him, causing the Elven lord to turn
his head. This room was along one of the outer walls of the
building; a screen was opened to the outdoors. The surge of panic
died down within him, and Kakkyou sighed in relief.
     Fingers moved to brush another stray bang of silver away from
his eyes.
     He wandered out through the open doorway, taking a deep breath
of the garden air. It felt not only refreshing but purifying as
well.
     The forest air of Elfhame was damp, if not humid and full of
plant odours. But this scent was of flowing, cleansing water, green
grass, and a strange but fragrant perfume. The grass was damp. It
could have been dew; he had not the slightest idea how late into
the night or early into the morning it was. All he knew was that it
was dark.
     Eyes of creamy jade ventured up into the black sky. Thousands
of stars twinkled far above, some of them dwarfed by the crescent
moon hanging in the highest point of the sky.
     "Serenity?" he called out.
     He knelt down and let his fingers drift with the pool's
currents. It wasn't startlingly cold or searingly hot. It was warm;
the right kind of heat if one wished to bathe.
     Abruptly something broke through the glassy surface of the 
water. 
     Kakkyou held his breath.
     A young woman rose up from the pool, long blonde hair clinging
to her face. Her eyes were closed, enjoying this moment of peace.
A moment she was spending without apparel.
     Serenity slowly opened her eyes, and turned to look directly
at the Elven lord. Her chest was above the water, high enough for
him to see her belly button...and other physical features. Her
breasts were not large, but well rounded and very supple.
     A wave of flustered heat surged through Kakkyou's body as
looked at her, saying nothing. Thoughts were distant; he was
uncertain if he was surprised by her sudden and naked appearance,
or awed by the radiant glow of magik that glistened on her body
alongside the droplets of water.
     Then he heard Serenity laugh with amusement, almost giggling.
"Would you pass me that towel?" she asked.
     Dragon green eyes darted to the bulky, white towel lying on
top of a rock right beside him. The Elven lord slowly grasped the
towel and turned around. Serenity rose up from the water right
before him. She smiled as she took the ends of the towel and
wrapped herself with it. Water rained down from her damp hair,
shimmering on her skin.
     "You act as if you've never seen a young, naked woman bathing
before," she said quietly. 
     On the edge of his vision, he caught a playful spark in her
eyes. She found his reaction amusing to say the least. It hadn't
startled or frightened Serenity that he had seen her bathing.
     As if she knew he would see her like this.
     "There's a cold wind out tonight," she said to him. "Shall we
go inside?" Serenity walked past him, her body graceful and fluid
in every movement.
     Kakkyou remained still, only his head moving to follow her
steps as she crossed back into the bedchambers. She paused,
glancing back at him. His expression was stern, a caring affection
shaped by a determination to guard over her. So many times after
that creature had appeared, she saw him with that face.
     The Elven lord turned away, and reached out to grasp her
nightgown from where it had been discarded on one of the rocks.
Upon taking it in his hands, he joined her inside.
     Serenity glanced back at him as he entered the room. "Did you
sleep well?" she asked.
     "All things considered," he replied. "Just fine."
     It was still unnerving to think that sleep was overpowering
him. Times ago he could have lived for weeks without sleep, feeding
off his rampant Elven magik and whatever games he had crafted to
play out. But now this was not so. His focus was narrowed, and
draining much of his energy as he devoted everything to it...to
her.
     His magik.
     His soul.
     His every breath.
     Serenity reached out her arm as Kakkyou handed her the gown.
The Elven lord turned away as she dried off and slipped into the
fabric.
     "You're a true gentleman," she said. 
     "I'm afraid if I look," he replied. "it'll be my ass. Halefyne
has grudgingly allowed me to watch over you at night; I am not
about to give the old woman an excuse to try and kick me out."
     He felt Serenity's hand on his shoulder. It was pulling him,
turning him around. She smiled, her crystal blue eyes shimmering as
she gazed at him. And then she leaned forward on her tiptoes,
gently pressing her lips against his.
     "Thank you for protecting me," she said, retreating.
     Kakkyou's lips were tingling from her touch. 
     "You're welcome," he answered, his fingers gently caressing
her cheek. Touch was something he as an Elven understood well
enough; he could sense many things in how she reacted to his touch.
     And right now she was trembling.
     He drew away his hand as tears started to run down her face.
She was still smiling about their kiss, but unable to stop from
crying. Slowly she began to sob, falling into his arms as her final
defense fell down.
     Kakkyou said nothing. Whether or not he spoke didn't matter;
in her moment of fear, of weakness, all that mattered was his
touch. And so he held her in his arms, letting her tears stain his
garments. 
     Somehow he managed to lead her to the bed.
     She fell asleep in his arms, safe and secure.
     And Kakkyou held onto her tightly, not daring to let her go.
He felt her body quiver as she dreamed. She whimpered, stirring and
fighting in his grip. He refused to let her go. For so long he had
been guarding her, guarding her magik.
     Guarding her heart...and his own.
     But in her dreams, he could not watch over her.
     This was the best he could do, and he cursed himself for his
uselessness.


     Earth's sole lunar orb hung in a crescent form at the horizon.
The dying hours of the early morning were being marked by hues of
pink and orange, a time where most everything else was sleeping.
Dreaming. Yet there was a place which knew no sleep, where dreams
were as real as the surreal world behind its borders.
     Hakkeda.
     By far the city with the wildest and most out of control
reputation in history, it was a far cry from the jubilant festivals
of Camelot. Earth was a place where anything could happen; here in
Hakkeda anything had already happened.  It was a place which was
home to only two kinds of people: the criminals, and the souls
escaping reality. 
     There was no genuine reason he should find himself in such
elements. But something within, a spark of magik perhaps, told him
that this was where he needed to be. And so it was here within the
wild streets of Hakkeda that he found himself. And the party was
still fiercely alive, an entity unto itself to be reckoned with.
     The Man With No Name stared at the towering buildings,
flashing with enchanted lights and magiks of any and all colours.
Structures of all shapes and sizes were stuck together. Alleys,
streets, courtyards and catwalks stretched out in every direction.
     A painted man juggling a set of large throwing knives bumped
past his shoulder, oblivious to his presence unless he was giving
out coins. A menagerie of strange and wonderful creatures swarmed
around him, parading and engulfing him in a wave of bizarre
galavanting. Fire-eaters, jugglers, illusionists, dancers, thieves
and enforcers swirled about in one enormous party. Masks depicting
animals, aristocrats, angels and demons stretched from one street
to the other.
     The stray flames from a fireball caught a reflection within a
set of small, tinted coin-sized lenses over his eyes. 
     Revelry knew no distinctions between night or day.
     This celebration would continue with the rising sun. In fact,
he suspected this festive zealousness would regain new momentum
just to celebrate the rising of the sun. Such was the way things in
Hakkeda worked.
     Paper confetti floated leisurely like rain around him. They
clung to his hair, his skin, his garments. Colours danced around
the shades of midnight all around his form, making him into a
living and breathing shadow. He was darkness in that instant, and
felt comforted by something familiar in such an unknown place.
     The only thing that was not as black as the rest of his
clothes was the coat he wore. Long it was, and billowed out almost
like a redingote, breathing both elegance and danger at the same
time, with a wide collar that rolled back upon his shoulders and
back. It was as dark if not darker than anything else he wore, yet
it possessed a colour that wasn't a shade of midnight. Upon his
left sleeve there was a thin white band that curved around his arm,
only to be intersected by an equally thin white band that ran down
the length of the sleeve. Where the two intersected there was a
black buckle to finish the formation of a cross.
     As long as he had lived he did not know why he wore this
marking so on his sleeve, but it had always been that way. He could
not live any other way. He could not imagine life any other way
without such a white cross. His calling card, His signature, his
reason d'etre.
     Perhaps one day he would discover its meaning.
     The Man With No Name sidestepped a pair of uninhibited lovers,
the man and woman stumbling backwards in kissing passionately. He
never even glanced back at them with mild interest. Another
courtyard presented itself, full of another ensemble of performers
and revellers. Loud music from a live musical troupe was being
played out on a raised dais at the very end of the street.
     He stole a glass full of what he assumed to be wine from a
tray carried by a roving waiter. He was thirsty, not having had
anything to drink since he had awoken on this night, and was ready
to drink anything.
     Awakened....
     He took a sip. A bitter-sweet taste, almost like honey and
vinegar mixed together, flowed down to his stomach. The Man With No
Name's face contorted into a wild expression.
     Ale.
     With one hell of a reznor twist.
     Another body abruptly slammed into him from behind, causing
the Mane With No Name to stumble forward. His long, dark brown hair
which stood out as a long, single braid dangling over his shoulder
fluttered from the burst of motion.
     For a split second he was caught off-balance.
     For a split second only.
     He whirled, grabbing hold of the wrist that had been meaning
to steal whatever money he was carrying. His grip was relentless,
crushing as he wrenched the thief into the air by the one arm.
     It was a pathetic creature: a short yet thin man with, in his
opinion, poor fashion sense. The thief yelped, legs kicking
viciously yet with futile efforts to free himself. 
     The Man With No Name scowled. "You're not one of them," he
stated. "I am not waiting here for you."
     He then threw the thief back into the crowd. People spilled
over as the man collided, tumbling off them and onto the
cobblestone street.
     He paused moments later as a significantly large knife sank
into the cobblestone just beside his boot. The Man With No Name
slowly turned around, his overcoat rustling with his sudden
movement, edges billowing out behind him in the midnight winds. 
     A circle was being formed, and he was unimpressed at finding
himself in the middle of the ring. On the other side was the thief
he had thrown around, the man angrily shouting at him.
     "Bastard!" the thief snarled. "Where'd you get off doing that
to me?!"
     The Man With No Name regarded him coldly. He had not the time
nor the interest in this person to waste standing around here. The
mystery of his purpose, his reason to exist, was waiting to be
discovered. He could recall nothing of his past, save waking up
earlier this evening from a distant dream.
     As if he had been born only a few hours ago.
     He began to turn away again.
     However someone had other ideas. The Man With No Name found a
large hand shoving him back into the centre spectacle. He stepped
back, and back again as a towering man joined the thief. Another
joined the theif's ranks, and another still. 
     "You're gonna pay for that!" the short one exclaimed, drawing
a sword and making a jab in his general direction. "No one insults
the Crimson Scorpions and lives! How does it feel to know you're
about to die?"
     The other three men all nodded in sharing the same sentiment.
A gang, all thieves, brothers in whatever it was their crimes
specialized in.
     "I take it this is your idea of a fair fight?" the Man With No
Name inquired.
     "Shut up!" the thief snapped. "I'll carve my name onto your
chest--after I've buried this blade in your gut."
     A challenge had been made.
     The Man With No Name stood as one against four. Fingers
reached up and drew the shaded, coin-sized lenses from his eyes.
They might have been called eyes, for while he did possess them,
there was nothing to truly see with. For the Man With No Name
possessed eyes that were clouded over, and even the surrounding
lights had trouble to find a reflection within an eternal
opaqueness. 
     Eyes of a blank grey haze, yet with something there inside.
Something as dark as everything about him. Yet as eyes were windows
to the soul, the clouding of his eyes prevented such an insight.
     "What the?" one thief hissed. "You're blind!"
     The Man With No Name's lips parted to form a wicked smile.
"Blindness is but a weakness. I hold no weaknesses." 
     He could see them in brilliant colours, expanded and exploding
in his vision. Their scent was his to smell. Their movements were
his to hear. And their magik, while sadly insignificant, was his to
watch like the light of day.
     People around the rim of this spontaneous arena were starting
to take bets. Others were cheering on whomever they had decided was
their favourite. The Man With No Name payed no attention to them.
As far as he knew, Camelot was still standing. It would still be
there come morning, even if he indulged these fools. The unknown
mission was all that mattered...yet there was still time to play.
     Clouds and haze parted, everything clearing up as the mists
were drained away. And what remained in his eyes was the darkest of
nights shifting as a thunderstorm before unleashing its power,
accented with electric blue streaks that coursed across his orbs.
     The Man With No Name gave a savage smile. "If you are so
insistent on dying, then who am I to argue?"


     The rays of the rising sun washed across the province and
castle of Vlatmere. And quietly, penitently, Myung let the warmth
find her skin, the soothing light overtake all the doubts and fears
she still held as she leaned out of the open windows.
     This was the first time she had watched the same sun rise upon
a different planet. So alien yet so familiar a sight; it left
inside a mix of emotions she dared not try and sort through.
     Blue eyes closed as she enjoyed this one moment of peace.
     She found herself wondering what Jeseme was doing. She had 
little ideas of whether it was day or night back on her homeworld,
on Venus. Her older sister was probably still being the central
draw to those social functions she had come to detest. Perhaps even
now starting to look for potential suitors to become a husband.
     Myung's eyes opened.
     And she found her cheeks flushed, a bright pink. All because
of...because of what? Her thoughts had been on Jeseme finding a
lover. Of someone to embrace in quiet moments, to talk in laughter
and whispers all through the night, to steal a kiss from when no
one else was looking.
     Kiss....
     Myung blushed again. She suddenly remembered Magellan's quick
kiss on her cheek as he had left her chambers the day before. Such
a brief thing, taking only one moment; it was causing her heart to
beat faster inside her chest. Did the caress of his lips upon her
cheek captivate her this much?
     The sun broke across the horizon line, rays of light spilling
out and driving back the darkness of night. This last act had
transformed dawn into day, and with it Myung was satisfied.
     She turned back to face her chambers.
     Someone had slipped in and left her breakfast.
     Leaving the window, Myung sat down and began to eat. It was 
delicious food indeed, but she didn't eat much of it. Most was left
untouched; hunger was being quelled by other thoughts that demanded
most of her focus and attention.
     At least the grogginess from the crash had left her.
     "Sailor Senshi," she whispered distantly.
     Once believed to have been a legend, an old tale told to
children of royal families so they might fall asleep and have
beautiful dreams. Yet dreams sometimes have mysterious ways of
becoming reality. Tales and whispers do not necessarily confine
themselves to the pages of ancient, leather-bound books.
     Myung knew she could not deny the existence of the Sailor
Senshi. She was one of them....


     "I have known for quite some time that this day would come,"
her father had said softly. 
     Those words had been spoken to her before her quiet departure
from Venus and all its royal accessories. In the heat of the moment
she had wanted to leave it all, throw it all away. The spirit
inside of her was being confined, choked, by the courts of
nobility. She loved her mother and father...but the life of a
princess was not hers to belong to.
     And so she had intended to leave for a destination she did not
know. Safe passage had already been booked on an outgoing vessel,
bound for another planet. But as she crept through the halls,
silent and swift, her father had intercepted her. He was there,
leaning against one of the pillars that lined the deserted
corridor.
     He had said nothing. A simple turn of the head, eyes focused
solely upon her, was enough to make her stop. There was no
confusion or surprise upon his face. As if he had been waiting for
her, knowing that she would choose this corridor to slip through.
     "Father," she whispered.
     "Your destiny does not lay here in the palace, Myung," Venus'
king stated. There was no anger in his voice, no malice or
frustration. She had almost missed it, but she could hear in his
words a sadness, a regret. 
     Letting go was harder than simply waking up to discover
someone had already left. That was why she had planned this out in
secrecy; her mother more than anyone would have never let her out
of palace had she inquired about leaving the planet.
     The king stood, and motioned to the end of the corridor. That
they finish together what she had intended to do alone. "Walk with
me. Please."
     Myung nodded, and father and daughter quietly made their way
through the palace's empty halls. It was strange to see such
grandiose rooms and walkways so deserted. Many of the enchanted
lights had dimmed in sensing a lack of hosts. Shadows, elegant and
enigmatic, abounded everywhere.
     For a moment she thought to have glimpsed someone there in the
darkness, a figure watching her not unlike a guardian. A distant
memory, faded now from her mind, of eyes that shimmered like the
midnight heavens.
     "My child," her father said. "Destiny is meant for the
individual; each of us has a path we must walk alone. Others may
cross through our way, but they are never on the identical path."
     He turned and looked down at her, a proud yet hidden smile on
his face. "I think you are destined for something greater than what
the walls of this palace could dream. And if I'm right, you will
save not only Venus, but all of us in this little solar system we
call home."
     For a moment he paused, drawing in breath to his lungs in a
deep and deliberate motion. Myung understood what this action
meant; she had been around him during debates and meetings long
enough to know that he was about to reveal something that would
have dire impacts for the future.
     "You know of the legend of the Sailor Senshi?" the king asked.
     "What does the legend have to do with me?" Myung asked in 
return.
     The corridor became a conjunction, and he followed her lead in
taking the appropriate course. One set of open archways the father
and daughter passed as they turned displayed a garden filled with
silver orchids. The liquid nectar from these blooming flowers was
the essence for Venus' somewhat infamous wine...or aphrodisiac,
depending on who you heard the story from.
     "There is a great deal more to the legend than has been told
as a bedtime story for little children," he explained. "You see,
over a thousand years ago, an ancient manuscript was found along
with a small artefact. Both were hidden within a secret chamber
inside this palace, a room that not even the king and queen were
aware existed. It took an Ancient--Dante, if that was his true
name--to find the key that could open the lock."
     He sighed in reliving the legend, in retelling the tale. "On
the manuscript was writing from a long dead civilization, one
believed to have come from another part of our galaxy. To this day,
no one knows where this language has originated from. And for a
time, no one was able to read it--except for a mysterious magi who
one day appeared, and was able to translate it."
     "Another Ancient?" Myung inquired.
     Her father nodded. "He never explained his origins; he just
merely appeared and offered to help. The manuscript had been
created by the use of magik as well as the artefact found with it.
He may not have said anything aloud, but I suspect that this magik
far surpassed anything he had ever seen. The way he held his breath
upon first seeing it, the way his eyes, which shimmered like a
thousand stars, narrowed...I don't know how to fully explain it.
But this was beyond the powers of the Ancients themselves.
     "After the Ancient translated it, he came before the royal
house and read it to the king and queen. It was a detailed prophecy
foretelling of the Sailor Senshi destined to appear in our system.
It also told of a powerful and devastating war that occurred long
ago, in a time when the Sailor Senshi were numerous and spread
among the stars. This war ended with a seemingly nameless evil
being sealed away--though at the cost of all the Senshi being
destroyed. But the manuscript also said that the Senshi would rise
again to retake their rightful place as guardians of the galaxy."
     Myung was silent, taking in every word her father was saying.
This was more than she had ever known about the legend. Sailor
Senshi were said to be long-ago if not long-forgotten protectors,
the female soldiers who stopped a great evil from consuming this
world. There was no real happy ending; just the quiet assurance
that the souls of those within the galaxy were safe.
     But a new uncertainty was plaguing her in the midst of the awe
and mystery being slowly revealed to her. Why now was her father
telling her this? Why did he deem it so important?
     The king continued regardless of her silent questions. "The
scroll went on to foretell of a darkness that would consume
everything in its path. And to defeat it, nine Sailor Senshi would
rise from the ashes of their past to combat the darkness. Those
Senshi would come from this solar system, and become the defenders
of a great Empire that would last for an eternity."
     "What is this darkness it speaks of?" Myung asked quietly.
     Rumours of an army of shadows upon Earth were filtering more
and more frequently into the hushed discussions among the nobility
and courtesans. The ones who remained entirely silent about this
were those in the military; that alone gave Myung reason to worry.
     Her father shook his head. "I do not know. The manuscript was
being deliberately vague; perhaps one should not know too much
about their own destiny."
     Something was being implied there. Myung chose to ignore it,
both excited and fearful of its meaning. Lives were changed by that
little word called 'destiny.' And not always for the better.
     Venus' king abruptly stopped walking, staring at her solemnly.
"From each planet, someone would be chosen to become one of the
Senshi, and fulfill their destiny as the guardians of a peace they
would establish. When a chosen one was found, there would be a sign
as proof that they were the Sailor Senshi once prophesied."
     "But what sign would there be, to let that person know who
they were to become?" Myung asked.
     "That is where the artefact comes in," her father answered. He
reached into the folds of his robes, and drew out a short yet
elegant stick. Given its size, it might as well have been a writing
instrument. Gold in colour, this artefact was marked with the rune
of Venus at the top. 
     Myung found herself captivated by it, entranced by whatever
magik it possessed. "It's beautiful," she said quietly.
     "This is the artefact found with the manuscript," her father
said. "The Ancient who translated the manuscript called this item
a 'henshin.' There is supposed to be one for each planet, but as
far as I know, this was the only one that has been found."
     The daughter looked up at her father, childish curiousity and
adult dread mixing inside her. She could feel her heart starting to
beat a little faster within her chest. There was an answer to all
of this. Regardless of fears, the uncertainty if left alone would
harm her.
     She had to know.
     "Then you know who the Sailor Senshi whom that belongs to is?"
she asked, her voice but a whisper.
     "Yes, I do," her father answered. "That person is you, Myung."


     ...and so she had become Sailor Venus.
     Myung absently toyed with a croissant, musing endlessly over
what her task now entailed. Certainly there was a thrill, an 
invigoration and adrenaline rush to becoming a Sailor Senshi. But
her father had been quite clear that with the title came a grave
responsibility.
     One Senshi against this foreordained darkness would not
survive. No, that manuscript had prophecied nine Sailor Senshi. She
would have to find the other eight soldiers...somehow. Currently
her problem was trying to figure out how to do that. She probably
wouldn't even recognize another Senshi unless she managed to run
into them while they were in a sailor fuku.
     Myung doubted she would be *that* lucky.
     There was, of course, the possibility of asking Magellan to
aide her. That was quickly dismissed; he would either send her back
to Venus, or say she was a lunatic. There wasn't even a guarantee
that he even knew who the Sailor Senshi were.
     She leaned back against her chair, letting out her
frustrations. "This is going nowhere," she lamented, letting her
gaze drift towards the open windows.
     Vlatmere's expanse was sprawled across her field of vision,
not as luxurious as Venus' royal palace, yet holding its own proud
regal aura. Magellan had promised her a tour of the castle for
today; looking down at herself, still in a nightgown, Myung decided
she might want to change into something more appropriate.
     The choice of wardrobe was somewhat limited; understandably,
given her sudden and unexpected appearance, they did not have too
many outfits for a lady her size. Yet what was present was more
than elegant for her to wear; it almost made her blush again. These
garments of Earth...they were so different from what she used to
dress in upon Venus.
     A simple white gown was once more selected, accompanying that
a yellow ribbon she would later weave in with her own tresses of
golden hair. For now those tresses were draped over her shoulders;
the ribbon would see to it that her hair remained behind her back.
     Myung drew herself a bath, and took her time soaking amidst
the bubbles. Leisurely rubbing the washcloth along her arms and
legs, she let her thoughts return to her new destiny as a Senshi.
The warm water spread its steam across the bathroom, and her blonde
bangs clung to her forehead.  
     Why had she been chosen? What was so special about her, that
she would be set apart to wield one of those henshins, and become
Sailor Venus?
     With a splashing of water, she lifted herself out from the
tub, towelling herself off. The gown was slipped into, the yellow
ribbon tying back her hair. And what of the henshin itself?
     What indeed?
     Myung felt a surge of panic course through her body as she
suddenly realized she couldn't find it. The henshin had gone
missing. Perhaps during the crash, or else last night when she
changed garments. 
     "No...." she whispered, her palm covering her mouth.
     Without the henshin she could not transform. The Sailor Senshi
of Venus was lost, and all because of her. Myung lowered her arms,
closed her blue eyes and focused on the henshin itself. Where she
had last seen it, what had happened to it. Its importance meant too
much to her. That represented her duty, her destiny.
     She did not want to abandon it.
     Both hands went behind her back, balled into fists. And then
she felt something grasped within her right hand. She brought her
hands before her near unbelieving eyes. There, resting in her palm,
was the henshin.
     Amazement could not begin the describe the expression on her
face as she stared down at the artefact. It seemed to have appeared
out of thin air. 
     "How...?" she wondered aloud, shaking her head.
     It had appeared when she focused her thoughts, when her hands
instinctively reached behind her back as if to grasp what was truly
not there. Her father had been right; the henshin was of magik.
     As an experiment, Myung took her hand and placed it behind
herself again. She focused, eyes closing, knowing that for now the
henshin's presence was not called for. When she brought her hand
back out, the henshin was gone. Again she reached behind her, and
when she pulled out her hand it was there again. With each time she
learned to synchronize with the henshin's magik, the easier the
reflex became.
     Soon absolute focus was no longer a concern. It was fast
becoming an instinct, the bond between her and the artefact
growing. A smile broke out on her face as she realized that there
was almost no way she could lose it.
     An abrupt noise came from the door to her chambers.
     A knock.
     Myung nearly jumped, startled out of her reverie. Her arms
went to her side, the henshin briefly lost from sight behind her
waist. That briefness was all she required to have it become hidden
once more.
     "Come in," she called out.
     Soundlessly, the door was partially opened. 
     Vlatmere's reluctant ruler appeared in the doorway. Dressed in
a black uniform, adorned with a dark metallic breastplate and shin
guards with gold inlays. A black cloak was upon his shoulders,
everything brought to life with the dawning sunlight pouring
through her windows. He appeared in every way a young man of
royalty--and yet if he were to appear out of the darkness of other
shadows, his appearance alone might make one step back in
unexpected fear.
     "Is it alright to come in?" Magellan asked, cautious if not
hesitant. And she couldn't help but smile to herself in catching
that hint of excitement his ocean blue eyes possessed.
     Myung closed the distance between them, pulling him into her
room. "Of course you can." 
     She reached the foot of her bed, letting herself fall onto the
edge as she released his wrist. The princess sat there, letting
Magellan take the chance to look her over in these Earthian
garments.
     "You look lovely," he said distantly.
     Was a slight enchantment working itself on him?
     Myung's eyes twinkled at the compliment, letting her eyes
appraise him as he returned the favour. "And you look very handsome
yourself."
     His eyebrows were raised briefly, an awkward grin on his face
as he looked away. "That's very kind, thank you. Did you sleep
well?"
     She felt the mattress and covers beneath her, nodding
slightly. Something was so alluring about his eyes, blue like the
waters after a storm. 
     "Myung?"
     Peaceful and serene, yet not without a hint of danger, of
those storms flaring up once more. If she could drown within those
eyes, it would be a fate she would be happy with.  
     "Myung?"
     She snapped out of whatever had gotten into her, Magellan
leaning closer to her with a concerned look on his face. He gave a
relieved laugh in seeing her return to Vlatmere castle. "Are you
alright?" he asked.
     The sheepish grin on her face was nothing she could even try
to hide. "Yes. I'm sorry," Myung said quickly. "What were you
saying?"
     "I asked if you were ready for your tour."
     She looked into his eyes. He looked into hers.
     And just then both Myung and Magellan realized how close their
faces, their lips, were to each other's. Prince and princess
abruptly pulled back, Magellan clearing his throat as a distraction
from the moment.
     Myung seized the opportunity, rising to her feet and taking
hold of his arm. "Shall we go?" she inquired.
     He nodded, and became her escourt.


     Sunrise came to GlenHawke.
     And it was beneath the crimson rays of the rising sun that
found the Elven lord of Arana slowly stalking across temple
grounds. His footsteps had a destination...and she was already
waiting there for him.
     Mother Halefyne stood before her private chambers, silently
watching Kakkyou approach. His magik seemed more possessed than
usual; calm, rational, but possessed regardless.
     "We have to talk," he stated, not even slowing down his steps
as he brushed past her. 
     "Another nightmare?" she asked.
     Kakkyou nodded, pausing in front of the building's threshold.
Eyes of creamy jade never turned back to GlenHawke's mothering
guide. "Like all the others before it. She hasn't stopped having
them since that damned youma showed up. This is what I've come here
to talk about."
     "A little presumptuous, aren't we?" Halefyne inquired. "In
Elfhame, this sort of aggression may be normal--"
     Kakkyou whirled, glaring at her. "I would hardly call these
circumstances normal, Halefyne," he hissed. "This place was
violated by a demon under orders from a higher darkness. And ever
since that night, Serenity has woken up on the verge of screaming.
She bathes in the moonlight as if to rid herself the darkness that
comes after her when she sleeps. And I've lost count of how many
nights she has cried herself to sleep in my arms."
     Elven magik sparked, smoke rising out from a sphere that
burned itself into the wooden planks of the veranda. Kakkyou was at
the magik's centre, almost daring her to try and test his powers.
He wanted to vent his frustration.
     She knew better than to tempt him even further.
     "Something happened to her then, to us all," Halefyne said
evenly, her tone of voice subtly telling him to calm down. "I don't
think even she remembers."
     She walked onto the veranda, now her turn to brush past him.
"We can talk inside if you wish it," she told him quietly.
"However, in my domain you are to obey my rules. Here my magik can
easily rival your own."
     Kakkyou nodded. 
     The two adjourned inside.
     GlenHawke's inner sanctuary was one long chamber surrounded by
a magik that both could feel in the air. Incredible murals were
painted upon the paper screens lining the walls. His eyes caught
sight of numerous hidden talismans, acting as barriers to amply
Halefyne's magik within this place, and keep unwanted magiks out.
     At the far end was a large bowled fountain raised up on a
pedestal. The ceiling above it rippled with an eerie blue light
reflected from the waters inside. Mother Halefyne turned, gazing
into the waters of the fountain. She read the water, and its
ripples. Kakkyou could only stare at it and get a headache from the
array of colours. 
     "What is this?" he asked.
     Halefyne smiled; a human like her could still surprise an
Elven lord every now and again. "You'll see."
     Abruptly the waters began to bubble and surge, a spray of mist
sweeping past them as the water began to take a life of its own.
Amidst the ripples in the waters appeared an image. Serenity laid
within the reflection, sleeping soundly beneath the covers of her
bed where he had left her.
     "Everyone's afraid," Halefyne said quietly. "No one knows that
Serenity was the target of this Reptilius beast, but that doesn't
mean they are not afraid."
     The Elven lord nodded. "We were lucky that time. But others
will come, and they will be far worse that Reptilius ever was."
Kakkyou's eyes were solemn and wavering as he raised his head, and
stared directly at the Mother of GlenHawke. "I wish to take her to
a safer place," he stated. "I wish to take Serenity into Elfhame."
     Halefyne had been expecting this.
     "Out of the question," she countered, shaking her head. "I am
well aware of the risk I put GlenHawke in should Serenity remain,
but at the same time I will not put her life in danger by handing
her over to the Elven."
     "I am their master and lord within Arana," Kakkyou said, his
voice growing heated. "They obey me, out of fear and out of
respect. I more than any know the risk of bringing in a human, and
I am telling you there would be nothing for Serenity to fear in
Elfhame."
     "No."
     The single world of denial hit harder than any magik either of
them could have invoked. Kakkyou scowled, staring directly into her
eyes with his own dragon green ones. His head tilted down towards
the fountain, the light playing with the pallor of his skin.
     "I more than anyone else here wants to protect her," he said,
his voice in but a low, chilling whisper. His arms were shaking,
quivering in seething fury. "This request was but a formality. With
or without your consent, Halefyne, I will take Serenity to
Elfhame."
     Halefyne leaned over the edge of the fountain, staring
directly at him. "But is that what Serenity truly wants?" she asked
solemnly.
     His eyes watched the waters. 
     And he realized he was uncertain of her answer.


     The Man With No Name stood there within the crowded and rowdy
streets of a city called Hakkeda. The ones who had gathered to form
an audience around him and a den of thieves were backing away. He
seemed quite calm, perfectly reasonable--despite standing on
cobblestone soaked with blood, the torn remains of the thieves
scattered around where he stood. He lifted one of his hands, rich
crimson liquid dripping down from his soaked fingertips. The upper
part of his sleeve was glistening in the light of a slowly dawning
sun.
     This hand...he had sent it through a man's chest.
     Eyes once clouded over, now hauntingly clear like the heart of
a storm, glanced down at the crumpled body next to his boots. He
absently kicked the corpse off its side, studying the hole that had
ripped through this thief's chest.
     His arm had jabbed forward in that moment, but instead of
delivering a hard punch, he left his fingers extended. And they
rammed through the man's ribcage, smashing bones and organs before
bursting through the thief's back in a shower of blood.
     "Wh-what are you?" 
     Strange how he could hear the doomed man's hiss so clearly in
his ears, even now that the man was dead. The trickle of blood on
the thief's quivering lips was still there, but those eyes were
distant, lost in a dark oblivion.
     The Man With No Name remembered the answer he had given:
     "I don't know. But evidently I am quite the killer."
     He stepped over the body, his boots quiet despite the blood
and gore he was tracking through. Another corpse laid across the
ring of spectators from him. A knife was lodged in that thief's
head.
     The flash of metal echoed in the mind's cascade of
recollections. He had whirled, snatching the throwing knife out of
the air before it had a chance to find flesh. He in turn had
launched it at the one who had first flung the knife, and the blade
sank instantly into the thief's forehead.
     The Man With No Name paused, standing before a third body.
This one was crumpled and twisted, contorted as a face now in
eternal shock and disbelief laid in a pool of blood. That
thief...he had snapped the man's neck with surprising ease, nearly
tearing it off from the shoulders.
     It had originally been four against one.
     Their idea of a fair fight.
     Tinted, coin-sized lenses were drawn out from the folds of his
coat, placed over the Man With No Name's storm-fed eyes. He slowly
turned to the last thief standing. The one he had saved for last.
     That man was shaking, a little from terror and a little from
pure rage over this new turn of events. Everyone around him was
starting to grow frantic, afraid of being caught up in the battle.
     And killed.
     "You...." the thief growled, eyes wide and blazing.
     The Man With No Name began to laugh. It was callous, arrogant,
knowing something they did not. The folds of his black redingote
billowed out behind him, the white cross upon his sleeve shining in
the light of the rising sun that slowly reclaimed the city's
shadows.
     "You're in no position to laugh, blindman!" the thief shouted.
Out from the folds the man's vest were drawn an army of shuriken
throwing darts, each one snugly gripped between his fingers. "You
may be fast, and you may be strong. But each of these darts is
laced with a breed of Shokkan poison that will tear your mind apart
and burn through your body in seconds."
     The thief released a sadistic grin, firm in his belief that
now the odds were back in his favour. That the stranger dressed in
black would not live to see the new day. How could any human dodge
a legion of shuriken darts tipped with the deadliest magik known
across the Solis System?
     And yet the Man With No Name continued to laugh.
     He stretched out his arms, looking to the skies as he slowly
spun in a circle. As if savouring the sunshine like it was rain.
This was the first time he could ever recall seeing daylight. This
was a new memory to capture.
     Abruptly he stopped, the ends of his coat rustling around his
body as he froze. And looked straight at this last thief, the first
one who had foolishly challenged him.
     "Do you honestly believe that I came alone?" the Man With No
Name asked. "When I awoke for the first time, I discovered that I
had brought a few friends of my own into this world."
     He reached out towards the thief, opening his palm to the
skies alight with orange and scarlet hues. A fire that crackled and
burned as dark as the robes he wore erupted to life, engulfing his
hand and fingers. There was no sign that he was being burned. But
the malicious smile upon his face, the way the eerie flames danced
in the reflection of his shaded lenses, revealed the sheer pleasure
he was having in discovering what new things this world had to
offer him.
     Something exploded from the fires, a shaft of shadows spewing
out above the rooftops. The magik churned and rippled, cascading
down over itself in a maddened frenzy. He could taste the magik
swarming in life within this explosion of black fire.
     Necromancy.
     The summoning of the youma, of the demon world.
     A magik forbidden since the Golden Empire was first
established. Those who were discovered allying themselves with such
evil and dark powers were hunted down and killed. And here he
unexpectedly held such power within his fingertips.
     Something emerged from the portal he had opened up. Twin wings
of demon form and leathery texture unfolded from the depths of the
fire. They spread wide, the wingspan enough to touch the buildings
on either side of the street and cast everyone below in their
shadow. A low, guttural snarl echoed out from the crackling flames;
an elongated snout pushed through the churning darkness.
     Two eyes opened up from the beast's skull.
     And then another two eyes.
     All four shone as purest white, like snow if they were not
truly albino. They narrowed as the rest of the creature pushed
through the fires, sucking in a great breath in escaping its
infernal womb to unleash a hideous bellow that shook the heart of
the cobblestone streets. Two front legs came smashing down,
pulverizing the stone into dust and crater. Claws razor-sharp and
shimmering with unearthly light lined the ends of its paws.
     Coils of body poured out behind the head and neck, a thick yet
tapering form spilling out upon the streets. A set of coils slammed
down upon a tavern. The sheer weight from the scales caused the
walls to buckle. They lasted for only a split second before the
rocks shattered, and the tavern imploded. At last the end of its
body appeared, two hind legs just as powerful and lethal as the
front set crashing down upon the streets amidst a tail that swung
all through the air in a frenzied dance.
     "What the hell?!" the thief exclaimed, stumbling backwards.
     "I think where in the hell would be more appropriate," the Man
With No Name stated. He looked up at his little friend, this youma
he had summoned out from the heart of the darkness.
     A black dragonwyrm.
     Panic washed over the crowds. It became a frantic mob as
everyone scattered amidst screams. People were trampled, tables
spilled over, entertainers leaping to safety. And through it all
the Man With No Name remained oblivious. He gestured to the youma;
it was a lesser one, and thus he could readily and easily control
it. All he had to do was know its name.
     "Jabberwocky." 
     He pointed to the thief, who stood in place. Rooted in
absolute terror, eyes wide and mouth agape, the one who had
challenged a nameless blind man gawked in horror and disbelief at
the monstrosity looming over him.
     "Finish him off for me," the Man With No Name stated, turning
away as if to already dismiss the thief as a dead man. "I have
other business to take care of."
     The Jabberwocky more than happy to oblige.
     Its four eyes stared at the thief, its neck curling around to
examine its prey. And then the jaws were snapped open, saliva
spraying out across the streets it a sticky, clear rainfall.
Slender icicle fangs thrashed together as the youma lunged for its
victim. 
     The thief cried out, throwing one handful and then a second of
the Shokkan-tipped darts. The sharpened points found substance, and
the darts sank completely into the youma's glistening skin. But the
Shokkan magik never even slowed the beast down. If anything, it
only made the Jabberwocky more ravenous.
     The Man With No Name walked away, crossing into an alley left
untouched by the hordes of crazed revellers who were ready to
murder one another if it meant their own escape. The chilling gales
of demon roars echoed across the shadowed streetways, interrupted
only with the sounds of a human scream and the breaking of human
bones.
     A thief died.
     The Jabberwocky fed.
     And the Man With No Name vanished, his shadow long
disappearing long before someone who could have been called the Law
in Hakkeda managed to show up.


     Hours had passed since the dawning of the sun.
     And in that time Myung had seen so many incredible sights
within the walls of Vlatmere castle. The castle itself was in the
middle of what was known as Vlatmere City; the largest structure,
composed of white stone towers, could be seen from almost anywhere
in the city. In the midnight hours, it acted as a beacon amidst the
darkness.
     So many things here on Earth were so different from Venus. The
scents were unfamiliar, the air strangely sparce of the
intoxicating aromas she had grown up with. The landscape Magellan
showed her from the highest points in the castle were foreign, the
slopes of the distant mountains a new sight for her to take in.
     Somewhere along the way, her hand found his, and together they
walked through the expansive galleries and atriums the castle held
inside. Of grand ballrooms and gushing fountains, of secret
passageways leading into secret rooms, of chambers where the walls
and ceiling were painted in grand designs. Everything was
beautiful, and Myung found herself lost in the awe and laughter of
a child first discovering something new.
     And through it all, Magellan watched her with a contended
smile on his face. The only thing that seemed to matter in those
hours was her laughter.
     A foursome of floating bubbles moved down the corridor where
they walked. Myung stood on her tiptoes, leaning closer to the
nearest sphere, blue eyes wide in curiousity.
     "They won't pop if you touch them," he said, cupping his palm
beneath one of the bubbles and gently pushing it upwards. "But even
still, be gentle with them."
     Myung was still captivated with her reflection in the
curvature of the orb. This sort of thing she had never seen
anywhere within the halls of Venus' royal palace. Crystal orbs,
certainly, but never anything like an actual bubble.
     "Where did you find these?" she asked.
     "To be honest, I don't know," Magellan replied. "They've been
around since I was a baby. These were my playtoys once--and from
the stories I've been told, I was quite the terror with them."
     She poked the bubble in front of her, prodding it to float
leisurely towards the wall. "Hard to imagine you being a terror,"
she remarked with a sly grin.
     With a feigned sigh of exasperation, Magellan stepped in
behind her and leaned over her shoulder. "And I suppose you were
the little saint when you were a child?"
     He had her there--though Myung was not about to admit it.
     The foursome of bubbles abruptly came back down, crowding
around Magellan for attention. And within the transparent orbs
appeared the image of a flower in bloom, petals slowly opening up
to the warmth of the sunlight. He smiled and nodded to the bubbles,
which began a procession.
     "Where are we going?" she asked as he took her hand in his
once more.
     "You'll see," he answered. 
     He led her through a twisting skein of hallways, across
chambers and down spiral staircases. And then at last he paused at
the threshold of an archway, the bubbles jostling each other over
his head. Beyond, sunlight was pouring in from above. An open
courtyard tucked away within the base of Vlatmere castle, hidden
from everything else.
     Myung was the first to enter.
     Blue eyes widened as she walked into a realm which seemed to
know not time nor day. An ethereal sanctuary of nature, where
anything that might have been wall was green vegetation.
Cobblestone pathways curved amidst rows of scarlet flowers, levels
upon levels rising up before her eyes. Petals were curled back,
soaking up what the sunlight had to offer. 
     "A rose garden," she whispered.
     He brushed alongside her, taking her into the heart of this
forest of flowers. They sat down on the edge of a pool of water,
fountain spouts letting a small mist of water rain down on the 
blossoms.
     She looked into his eyes. "It's beautiful."
     Magellan's hand drifted down to one of the roses next to where
he sat, fingers caressing the delicate petals. "My father's eternal
hobby; when he wasn't dealing with the affairs of this province, he
was in here. These roses meant everything to him."
     He stopped.
     Even speaking seemed a strained effort on his part.
     "He must have meant a lot to you," Myung said quietly. Her
fingers found his, lacing together and giving his hand a
reaffirming squeeze. How easily she could read his mind, understand
what he had left unsaid. 
     "He died a short time ago; someone went out of their way to
poison him." Out of frustration at the bitter memory, Magellan
punched the back of his fist against the pool's edge. "I watched
him slowly die, helpless to do anything!"
     Myung leaned against his shoulder, her head pressed into his
chest. She could hear his heart beating; such a soothing rhythm.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
     He shook his head. "There's no need to be. You didn't
know...and besides, nothing I can do will bring him back to me. Our
worlds may be harsh, but we still have to face our future. I've
been left here in my father's place, and will look over Vlatmere as
he'd want me to."
     He took a deep calming breath of the garden's air, turned
sideways. His ocean blue eyes were looking directly at her now. The
rose garden was a vague second thought in his mind. "I should be
the one who's sorry, Myung. Here I've been giving all my burdens to
you, and you've listened to every word I've said."
     Their faces drifted closer.
     Lips seemed to instinctively draw nearer.
     Each one in turn let their eyes slowly close, all thoughts 
coming to a stop. The moment was their to seize, but they were
content to take their time. Warm breaths tickled their skin, his
hand reaching up to caress her neck, palm sliding upwards to her
cheek.
     Abruptly Myung's stomach decided to make its presence known.
     She blushed, cheeks turning bright red as the growl echoed
across the rose garden. And she ruefully realized that she had
eaten very little at breakfast.
     With regret, the two pulled away.
     Magellan laughed, easing her embarrassment. "Well then, it
would appear you've already chosen what we do next." He stood, and
reached out his hand. "I've shown you enough of this castle; now
let me show you this city. I'll take you out to one of the best
eating establishments in all Vlatmere. You won't regret it."
     Myung smiled and nodded. "I'd like that," she answered, taking
her hand in his and letting Magellan pull her up to her feet.
     There the two laughed together as they walked hand in hand out
from the rose garden. And standing in beneath one of the trellises,
hidden quietly from their view, Katherine Endymion smiled gently in
hearing the words they shared. She looked down to the single red
rose in her hand, and clutched it close to her heart.
     "You are so much like your father, my Magellan," she
whispered, dark eyes slowly closing at the fond memories. A tear
escaped, tracing a liquid path down her cheek before the droplet
fell upon the rose. Scarlet blossoms changed colour, becoming blue
like the tear she had cried.
     Dark and loving eyes looked at the fleeting silhouettes of
Myung and Magellan once more. The hushed words she spoke were never
meant to be heard, but still to be heeded. "Remember...in every
rose lies a thorn. But if your love is true, you will accept the
rose and its thorn as one."
     A long braid of dark hair draped itself over her left shoulder
as she slipped out from the rose garden through a different
doorway, leaving the two lovers alone. Such peace deserved to be
undisturbed. And she was afraid that this fragile peace of the
Golden Empire would be quickly shattered.


     She was dreaming again.
     A flood of pale pink blossoms rained down upon her, the petals
delicate and fragile. With an open hand she reached out and let
them gather in her palm. Outside of the shaft of light she found
herself standing within, the petals were tinted pale sapphire. A
world of darkness, and in it she was the only light.   
     Crystal blue eyes looked around the expansive shadows. Nothing
could be seen but the dancing petals. Her hand gently closed,
cradling the petals she had let gather in her palm. She knew these
flowers. Somehow she recognized this beauty, this scent falling all
around her. 
     "Sakura," she said quietly.
     Cherry blossoms....
     Serenity turned, trying to find another source of light amidst
a darkened dream. This was unlike the others, those terrifying
night visions of being chased, of those violet eyes that taunted
and savoured her fear.
     The dream rippled.
     Changed.
     Became something new as darkness was pulled back, shadows
turning into veils and curtains. A scene without foreign light yet
possessing its own haunting glow was laid out before her. Serenity
kept the palm of cherry blossoms close to her breast. She stood
quiet and still; only her long trails of golden blonde hair moved,
billowing out behind her with a wind she could neither see nor
feel.
     A girl, not any older than she, was laid out upon a bed before
her. The girl was sleeping--not peacefully though, as her eyes
violently rolled beneath closed eyelids, trickles of sweat running
down her face and causing stray bangs of raven dark hair to stick
against her skin.
     "Who are you?" Serenity asked the sleeping girl.
     There was no reply.
     The raven-haired girl began to lift from off the bed, floating
into the air. And then another entered, sauntering leisurely,
seductively, from the darkness of this dream. A silhouette began to
draw colours and contours, until at last the newcomer's face was
revealed.
     Serenity found herself taking a step back.
     In many ways this woman resembled the sleeping child. A face
older, matured, the shoulder-length, ravenwing hair spilling out
down far past her waist. But those eyes....those two violet eyes
were alive in a darkest of fantasies.
     She knew those eyes.
     The eyes which stalked her dreams.
     Serenity's hands went over her mouth. "No...."
     A giggle escaped the woman's lips as she drew out an exquisite
and lethal weapon. Atop a slender and decorated pole-arm was a
wickedly curved blade. Violet eyes glanced at the woman's
reflection in the blade of a silent glaive. The Dark Messiah gave
her name:
     "Mistress Nine."
     The glaive was taken up, its blade positioned above the
hovering girl. Winds began to stir, cold and harsh and scattering
the rainfall of petals in a violent fury. Serenity gave a startled
cry as the cherry blossoms in rapid succession were shattered, the
fragile flowers torn apart by a new rain of waterfall that cut like
glass.
     Her palm was bleeding, the skin cut by a falling droplet and
letting loose a crimson trickle. She looked to Mistress Nine,
desperate to understand this new nightmare. The Dark Messiah only
laughed even more, eyes wide in a frenzied bloodlust. Long black
hair flowed out behind the woman's form as she raised the Silence
Glaive, the tip of its blade poised to strike down the sleeping
girl.
     And Serenity's crystal blue eyes widened in horror.
     "NO!!" 
     Shining metal was stained scarlet as a geyser of blood sprayed
out from the sleeping girl's chest. Hotaru's eyes flew opened, and
she screamed as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper still. Her
body fell from the air, crashing down onto the bed, covers stained
by the rich flow of blood from her wound.
     Mistress Nine laughed again, savagely pulling out the Silence
Glaive. Hotaru's body convulsed and then was still. Beautiful
violet eyes looked to Serenity before they grew dark and dim. Her
body began to dissolve, pale skin becoming pale petals.
     The cherry blossoms were scattered as Hotaru disappeared. And
Serenity was left there, fallen onto her knees and sobbing from the
hellish vision. She looked up at the Dark Messiah, tears spilling
down her face as her chest heaved from the frantic gasps for air.
     "Why?" she demanded, her voice unable to be anything more than
a hoarse whisper. "Why are you doing this to me?"
     The Messiah of Silence did nothing to close the distance
between them. She stood there, tall and towering over the weeping
Serenity. The Silence Glaive dripped the blood of a young girl who
never deserved such a fate.
     And then a new shadow flickered to life.
     Standing sideways in behind Mistress Nine, looking out to a
world of darkness, a cloaked figure appeared. In his hands was a
staff, its ornamented top adorned with metallic rings that chimed
together and echoed across the expanse of the dream. The edges of
the drawn hood rippled around a hidden face until he reached with
his hand and pulled it away.
     The Raithe turned, eyes of midnight heavens looking at her.
     And then he was gone.
     "Awaken...."
     This chorus of whispers she could barely hear as she wrapped
her arms around her chest, holding herself. A gentle and sad melody
was sung as she knelt there, huddled and frightened.
     "Awaken...."
     Crystal blue eyes were squeezed shut as she shook her head,
trying to stop her body from trembling. "Why is this happening to
me?" she cried. 
     Awaken....


     The day was so full of promise and promises as they left the
Raven's Crow. Numerous patrons and workers who recognized the
prince by his armour were unable to contain their grins at the
sight of their ruler being led by the hand by a beautiful young
woman with long and flowing blonde hair.
     "Did you see the way he stared at her as they ate?" one asked.
     Another said, "Perhaps this is what he needs to get over the
melancholy of his father's death."
     "I think it's cute," a waitress remarked to the bartender. She
sighed, indulging herself in dream. "Oh, how I wish Magellan would
look at me like that!"
     Cleaning one of the wine glasses out, the bartender rolled his
eyes. "There are tables that could use to be cleaned, Alyssa."
     The waitress, a young woman not even having seen her
seventeenth birthday, sulked at the chiding. "You're just jealous.
Admit it: they make a good couple."
     "I'd be more concerned with that girl's origins myself," the
bartender stated. "There's something about her...I don't know what,
but Magellan should watch himself."
     Such whispers and gossip were lost from their ears as the
couple in question stepped into the sunshine. Myung smiled as she
nearlybounced through the front doors, hand held in Magellan's
grasp as he tried to keep up with her. That had been everything he
had promised as an eating establishment. And more.
     Again Myung found herself overcome with such strange new
tastes to sample. The chocolates especially were of a different
texture; Venus prided itself on its own sweets and candy, but Earth
food held its own distinct flavour. It would take some time to get
fully accustomed to it, but she liked it regardless.
     The afternoon was for the most part a blur of sights and
sounds, of all the mysteries and discoveries that Vlatmere had to
offer. Marketplaces, taverns, stores, halls; even the landing
platform for incoming air vessels was not left alone by their
explorations.
     He let her do the leading for most everything, explaining when
she had a question to ask. It seemed selfish, but he was glad that
she had fallen from the skies. To be here now with him, letting him
find new and unexpected life in her smile, in the way the sun
caught her tresses of golden blonde hair which spilled down her
shoulders.
     Magellan let his gaze drift to a fountain across the
courtyard, one that had for the moment captured Myung's curious and
wandering eye. 
     He was starting to believe in a perfect world once more.
     He saw himself living within it as he looked into her eyes.
     "Myung," he began.
     The attack came without warning.
     Magellan gave a startled shout as Myung was abruptly torn from
his grip, the princess tumbling harshly across the street before
her body slammed into the base of the fountain. She laid there,
eyes closed, her body breathing yet still motionless.
     "Myung!" he exclaimed.
     Something shot through the air, large and dark and but a blur
in his vision. And it was lunging right for him. Magellan twisted
his body, dodging something that nearly took off his head. He
winced as he felt his cheek grazed, blood drawn from whatever was
attacking.
     The rest of the blur struck him in the shoulder, enough force
and momentum behind it to send his feet off the ground. Magellan
toppled over, his head reeling from the shock of the impact. He
struggled to get back on his feet, pressing a palm against his face
to see how badly he had been cut.
     There was only a trickle of blood.
     The wound was superficial at worst.
     His eyes say Myung again, the princess laying crumpled at the
foot of the fountain. "Myung!" he shouted, moving towards her.
     Suddenly another blur of motion pounced, sliding across the
ground to stand between him and Myung. He leaped back as a cloud of
dust was sent billowing into air from the feet of the assailant.
Moments later his eyes of ocean blue beheld the towering form
before him, an ominous silhouette with the sunlight cast behind its
back.
     It was a youma.
     Reptilian in appearance, body lined with leathery and scaled
skin, it stood upon its hind legs. A powerful tail twitched behind
it, kicking up more dust from the street. An elongated face with
bulging eyes stared down at him, at the shadow he was cast within.
This creature stood a good two heads taller than he did.
     The youma was drooling, growling as it watched him. Saliva was
wiped off by the back of its hand, fingers splayed to reveal
enormous and lethal claws. The thing could neatly impale him
through a wall with just one of those. Muscles rippled as the beast
came crashing down, its front hands denting the street from the
impact with the cobblestone.
     Hand gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword, Magellan stepped
back. Whatever this demon was supposed to be, he wanted to put as
much distance between himself and it as possible.
     Cries went up from the others in the courtyard as men and
women fled the area. Many watched hidden around corners and behind
mostly-closed doors. And all were fearing for their young ruler.
     Something that might have been a laugh filtered out from the
creature's mouth. "Magellan Endymion...." A long, forked tongue
snaked out from its mouth, running along its lips. The youma's eyes
narrowed.
     "Die."
     The prince's entire body was on edge, tension screaming to be
released in an explosive heat of battle. "Don't I get a say in
this?" he inquired darkly.
     "Your father had no say...why should you be any different?" 
     Powerful reptilian legs lifted from the ground, the youma
swiftly darting around Magellan. He kept his weapon sheathed,
oblivious to the sweat trickling down his forehead. Everything was
riding upon how well he could read this creature's moves; it was
not about to attack him. Not yet.
     This thing had another surprise in store for him.
     "What would you know about my father?" the prince demanded,
his voice even but cold. Almost menacing in tone and murderous with
each word.
     Another run of the tongue across the lips came from the youma.
"Your father died slowly...but your death...." It laughed, lips
parting to display clenched jaws and rows of slender, wicked teeth.
"Yours will be quick...and very painful."
     His eyes narrowed.
     Ocean blue started to cloud over with an enraged storm, now 
glaring at the beast. The murderous gaze seized hold of his eyes.
"You," he hissed. "You poisoned my father?"
     "Not personally...." 
     Magellan glanced over his left shoulder as he saw another
youma stepping into the light. A third emerged from the shadows on
his right. And here he was enclosed between all three of them.
     He kept his solid grip on the sword hilt, vision darting from
one creature to the next. It would be a miracle if he could take
all three on at once--especially if they used Myung as a hostage.
The youma began to close in around him, snarling and snapping their
jaws, spraying foam and spit through the air.
     Magellan pivoted to face one. And then pivoted again to face
the one that had been behind him and was now advancing. Too much
movement and not enough room to fight.
     He grimaced. "Shit."
     Where the hell was Frederic when you actually needed him?
     One youma leaped forward, landing just a breath away from
where he stood. It never attacked, leering in front of him and
opening its jaws. Putrid air reached Magellan's nose. His grip on
the sword never wavered.
     "Metal?" the creature taunted. "That...is supposed to stop
us?"
     Magellan backed away, tilting the scabbard. The blade of the
sword was unsheathed a few inches. Saying anything now would be a
mute point; they were enjoying the play before the kill.
     Their leader growled, pawing at the ground before slowly
closing in. All three were crowding him, quite possibly to all
converge on him at once. "You are not going to survive this...young
Endymion."
     "And after you," the last one snarled, a malicious grin
pointed towards Myung's fallen form. "We shall take her...so weak
and helpless, she is."
     Ocean blue eyes narrowed. The storm within them was fed.
     Magellan drew his sword, turning defiantly towards the first
youma that had attacked him, that had done this to Myung. "Touch
her, and I swear I will make your death as agonizing as I can."
     The reptilian demon's lips curled into a savage smile.
"Really?" it sneered, opening its jaws and unleashing a howl that
caused the prince's skin to crawl.
     And with that, the beast closed its fist, skin rippling as its
fingers seemed to fuse together. Magellan's heart was racing as a
giant claw suddenly extended from the outside of its forearm, this
one longer and deadlier than anything else the youma had displayed.
     Drawing back its right arm, the demon charged.
     Magellan stood his ground, eyes watching the claw protruding
from the youma's arm. All his training, all his sparring, all the
knowledge he had been taught about combat and strategy; here was
the moment he would either prove his teachers right, or die trying.
     He never realized his breath was being held as he dropped into
a crouch, the towering form of the creature fast approaching. He
was beneath its shadow now as it seemed to strain higher on its
hind legs.
     Now was not the time to act.
     He waited.
     And the opening came. The muscles in the beast's arm
tightened, flexed in tension as it pulled back its joint even
further to deliver the strike. Magellan pushed off the ground,
lunging for the youma as he brought up his sword in a vicious arc.
     The distance between them shortened faster than what the youma
had anticipated. The claw found only empty air, and the demon
roared, enraged as it saw the edge of Magellan's blade catch the
sunlight.
     The roar was cut off as a clean echo of cold steel slicing
through the demon's torso resounded across the courtyard. Magellan
tightened his grip on the sword as he swung the weapon, keeping the
pressure high and letting the forward momentum of the youma seal
its own fate.
     In a storm of blackened gore, blood bursting forth from the
ruptured flesh as dark as the heart of a shadow itself, the
creature was cut in half. 
     All the tension on his sword disappeared.
     Magellan quickly spun to counteract the follow-through of the
motion, sliding to an abrupt stop on the cobblestone. He turned his
head, watching as the youma let out a hiss of air. The upper torso
fell away from the rest of its body, a sea of black blood spreading
across the cobblestone.
     The prince straightened his stance, raising the sword and
taking a moment to survey the dark ooze that was dripping off the
edge of the blade. Ocean blue eyes looked back at the two remaining
reptilian beasts.
     "Anyone else?" he inquired.
     Both youma snarled, dropping onto all fours and circling him
from opposite sides. He found himself pivoting rapidly, trying to
keep both of them in his vision at one time. Guaranteed if he lost
sight of one, he'd pay for it with his life.
     Neither one seemed cocky now.
     If anything, they were really pissed off.
     One of the creatures reared up, giant claws extending out from
each of its forearms. The second youma followed in suite,
unsheathing its own pair of claws. Magellan looked to the first,
eyes widening.
     The second youma attacked. 
     With a furious speed it charged, ready to rake down each claw
in succession upon whatever part of the prince's body it could cut
apart. Magellan heard the noise, caught only a glimpse of the
movement. Instinct kicked his body and he whirled, bringing his
sword upwards in a wide arch. His intuition saved his life.
     Blade struck against claw, sparks flying as the edges
collided. Magellan jerked his head back out of reflex; the claw was
a breath away from impaling itself in his skull. The two razor
edges slide alongside each other, bouncing from the deflection.
Magellan saw another opening, crouching for a stance designed to
send his sword driving through the demon's back.
     Suddenly the other youma leaped over the first, jabbing its
claws at his face as it descended from above. The prince had just
enough time to bring up his sword, deflecting this new attack. The
beast's inertia sent them both tumbling over, and Magellan let his
back curl with the cobblestone. All the energy he could gather in
that split second was seized to push with his legs and let the
youma be carried by his feet over the rest of him.
     Out of control, the creature shrieked before bouncing off  the
street and then crashing into the side of a building. Its form
crumpled to the ground, head sliding down against the wall. A trail
of black ooze was left as it slumped over.
     Magellan sprang back to his feet.
     There was still one more youma lurking.
     And he found it already charging towards him.
     Magellan quickly sprang to his feet in time to face the last
standing beast. He brought his sword up, frantically deflecting
blow after blow made by the creature's claws. The force of the
strikes were causing his arms to grow numb from holding the sword,
and he began to back away to avoid being slashed.
     All too quickly he realized he was being backed into a corner.
In a few short steps, his back would be against the wall, and he
would have nowhere to go. He blocked another strike. And then spun
around and raced towards the wall.
     A twisted smile was upon the youma's face as it lunged, both
arms driven forward to strike down the prince, pin his face to the
stone. But they found nothing as Magellan jumped and let his feet
hit the wall. With an instant of leverage he kicked himself
backwards, vaulting high over the youma's head. Helpless stone was
pulverized by its claws.
     Magellan never even gave himself a chance to breathe as he
landed behind the demon, and with a shout he rammed his sword into
the youma's back. The beast howled as the blade smashed through
bone and dark matter, falling silent moments later with a strangled
gurgle upon its lips. 
     It didn't move from where it was pinned to the wall.
     The prince released his grip on the sword, stumbling back as
he wiped a few droplets of the youma's blood from his face. To
think that he could have punched through demon and then stone with
his weapon.
     "For my father, you bastard," he said between gasping
lungfulls of air.
     And then Myung screamed. 
     Magellan spun around, eyes widening as he saw the second youma
still alive. Black rivers flowed down its face, dripping into hers
as it wrapped one set of fingers around her throat. The other arm
was raised into the air, the larger claw shooting out from the
forearm. The tip of the savage edge was poised directly above
Myung's head.
     The distance between them was too great.
     Nothing could be done.
     A haunting chill seized the prince's body as he knew there was
no chance of him reaching Myung in time.
     Bulging eyes glared at him. "She...dies!"
     In moments where life and death decide the course of futures
and of fates, everything slows to become its own eternity. The claw
was lifted higher as the youma's muscles tensed, ready to slice the
princess apart. And Magellan could see it all in a surreal and
distant blur of colour.
     This princess, whose golden hair smelled of winds he had never
known before, whose blue eyes captivated him even when he tried to
sleep a dreamless sleep. She who had been placed under his care,
his protection when he rescued her from the debris of the crashed
shuttle. The one who unknowingly taught him to laugh again, to
enjoy Vlatmere and life itself.
     The young woman he was falling in love with.
     And now she was going to die.
     Magellan threw out his hand in a vain effort to reach her,
fingers splayed and arm outstretched. "MYUNG!!" he screamed.
     He begged, pleaded for someone, something, to let her live.
     Magik answered his call.
     A flood of power surged through him, striking his body like a
wave of crashing water and sending through his veins a burning fire
that exploded from his outstretched palm. 
     Streaks of yellow flew from his hand at a speed no arrow could
have ever hoped to match. Roses of hues that echoed like the colour
of her long hair shot through the air. They numbered three in
total, and they were more than enough to finish the job. Each one
let its sharpened stem sink without mercy into the youma's body.
     One sank dead center in the demon's chest. Another sliced
through its neck, a gush of black blood following in its wake. And
the third buried itself in the beast's forehead just above the
eyes. Seconds later it exploded, turning the reptilian head into a
fine mist of dark haze.
     The force from the impact sent the youma falling backwards,
rolling across the cobblestone as droplets of darkness rained down
around it. 
     Magellan could feel his heart pounding fiercely within his
chest, but each beat was a dull thud in his ears. The sweat and
dirt and blood on his face was of no consequence. His exhaustion
was lost and forgotten in that moment.
     In the past, his father had been able to pull red roses from
thin air...but never anything like this. The prince had kept the
rose garden out or respect for his father, even though he himself
had never shown any sign of symbiotic magik with the flowers.
     He looked down to his hand, and then up to Myung.
     She was staring at the headless beast in shocked silence,
fixated on the blossoming petals protruding from the youma's chest.
Slowly her face turned towards Magellan, but she was unable to say
anything.
     Magellan moved as fast as his legs would allow, half walking
and half tripping to where Myung sat. He collapsed onto his knees,
smiling weakly as he wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek.
     "Are you alright?"
     "I-I'm fine," Myung replied, blue eyes still wide. "How did
you do that?"
     "I don't know," he said. "It just happened. I saw you there,
and saw my life ending with yours."
     He raised the hand that had thrown the roses. Fingers
extended, and then curled up to make a clenched fist. It seemed
like a normal hand. Yet he could still feel the magik causing his
skin to tingle. 
     "My father held a magik that allowed him to draw red roses
from the air. But never anything as extreme as what just happened."
     Myung brushed the stray bangs of dark hair away from his eyes.
"Maybe he could," she countered. "But he just never felt he had to
use that ability. Maybe all your ancestors had this power, and just
chose not to use it."
     Magellan shook his head, using the rim of the fountain to get
back on his feet. "No...only my father could work with magik and
roses before me. But perhaps I'm the first to be able to do this."
     He bent over the fountain for a moment, taking the chance to
gather some water in his palm and splash it against his face. The
reflection of Vlatmere's ruler stared back at him with uneasy eyes.
Such an incredibly devastating power locked within a rose; the
magik was something to indeed be reckoned with.
     Myung saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the burdens he was
still reluctantly carrying. The world was still relentless in its
pace, leaving him behind to work through the confusion. His
father's death, the pressures of his position, the mounting chaos
caused by the Shadows, and now this new magik. Her own destiny as
a Senshi seemed light compared to what seemed to rest on his
shoulders. Or had she yet to feel the full responsibilities of her
own position?
     Blue eyes closed for a moment.
     After all this, she could no longer keep secrets from him.
Trust was meant to be a mutual thing. Like love. And she could not
deny nor hide the feelings she had for this Earthian prince.
     Myung gently pulled on his arm. "Magellan, I need to tell you
something. We need to go somewhere where we can be undisturbed."
     He glanced back at the corpse of the reptilian youma. "Maybe
we should wait until the clean-up crew arrives."
     She shook her head. "This cannot wait," she urged him.
"Please, let's go to a place where we can be alone."
     Magellan looked at her with a confused expression. "What is
it?" he asked.
     Suddenly the waters in the fountain exploded, a damp mist
spraying past them as a fourth and final reptilian youma made its
presence known. Magellan grabbed hold of Myung, throwing them both
down on the street as the creature soared over their heads, poised
to strike down a claw that could impale them both.
     "DIE!!" it howled.
     And then something screamed through the air.
     A split second later, the youma was killed as a lethal arrow
went in through one eye and out the other. Limbs flailed and
thrashed as its body twisted amidst its flight, black ooze spraying
out in every direction. The youma crashed down next to Myung, tail
twitching a few times before it went still.
     Magellan lifted his head, dared to open one of his tightly
closed eyes.
     Cautiously stepping around the fountain, ready to draw back
another arrow, was Frederic. "Am I late as usual?" the young man
inquired.
     The prince of Vlatmere looked around as more armed guards
swarmed into the courtyard, each one ready to fight any more youma
that decided to make an appearance. He glanced over at the demon
corpse.
     "I think it's quite dead," Magellan said.
     Suddenly the arrow was drawn back, Frederic firing the lethal
projectile into the youma's exposed throat. The arrow sank in,
drawing another river of burbling darkness. For a moment the
demon's body spasmed.
     Frederic shrugged, pushing back his red hair. "You can never
be too careful." He winked at Myung. "There'd be hell to pay from
him if I let anything happen to you, Milady."
     Myung blushed slightly at that.
     She and Magellan were helped to their feet by Frederic. The
guards were already working on removing the youma corpses, and
checking to ensure no others were lurking. Magellan held Myung
close to him as the trio walked out from the courtyard.
     "What were they after?" Frederic asked.
     "Both of us," Magellan answered solemnly. "Me especially. I've
never seen a creature like that, Frederic. They moved differently
than the others reported to be in the ranks of the Shadow armies.
These ones talked, taunted, fought like humans."
     Frederic nodded slightly. "Probably designed to be assassins.
Who knows what sort of blak magik was used on them?"
     Myung felt Magellan's arm around her tense.
     "Look," Frederic said, stopping. "I had better lead the clean
up, make sure we're alone here in Vlatmere. I'll have a few guards
escourt you into the castle; the barrier wards should protect you
two once you're inside."
     He whistled to one set of guards, and then waved them over.
Sighing, Frederic rubbed the base of his neck. "Let me worry about
this mess for now, Magellan. You two just worry about getting
cleaned up. Maybe take a bath...though together or separately is
entirely up to you."
     Magellan massaged his temples at that, suppressing a groan.
     Myung just smiled to herself.
     "Frederic," the prince sighed in exasperation. "Do you mind
not--"
     He abruptly stopped as a cold chill seized his body. Sweat
found its way through his skin, droplets trickling down his face.
Ocean blue eyes were wide, shaking as Magellan slowly turned his
gaze to the heavens.
     "Magellan?" Frederic asked.
     His entire body was on edge, and he fought back the sudden
urge to vomit. Heart racing, sweat pouring, body quivering and he
didn't even know why. A prickle was on his skin, a sharp reminder
of the magik his family lineage held.
     This was about magik.
     Magellan lifted his head higher, staring at the skies. Half of
him was terrified to discover where the origins of this dread laid.
The other half had to know so he could sleep tonight.
     Daylight became dim.
     And for a brief moment as he stared into the epicentre of a
starry explosion, Magellan could see a shockwave rippling across
the vast darkness of space. Electric in colour, furious in
demeanour, it radiated out in dazzling hues of amber, sapphire and
violet. But that was all contained within a brief moment, where he
could see the skies above before the ensuing flash of light nearly
blinded him.
     Magellan whirled, closing his eyes and looking away as he
threw his hands in front of his face, letting his own shadow act as
a shield for Myung. Never before could the sun have produced such
an epic display to rival the vast shadows of the cosmos. The light
was slow in fading away, the first burst of whitened hue bathing
otherwise blue skies already gone. 
     But as he allowed his eyes to see once more, Magellan found
himself watching what resembled a visible solar wind radiate forth
across the Solis System. The winds whistled slightly in the
afternoon air, but he could hear nothing of this distant explosion.
     He was vaguely aware of his trusted friend slowly joining his
side. The two watched the waves of magik crackle and flow, the
tails lashing out wildly towards the epicentre. Suddenly he could
see hundreds upon hundreds of rapid flashes, tiny bursts of light
that were sparkling in a long line that seemed to be spreading out
across the entire sky.
     "What the hell was that?" Frederic said quietly.
     Magellan shook his head. "I don't know."
     But the princess in their midst knew. The magik of the
henshin, of becoming a Senshi, had heightened her other senses. The
wave of magik was one she suddenly recognized. Chillingly,
perfectly recognized. A trembling hand went over Myung's mouth as
she watched the skies beyond burn with incredible fire.
     "Aurora...."


     The Man With No Name smiled as he saw the explosive lights in
the sky. Other revelers here in Hakkeda one by one stopped their
festivities to watch the display in awed silence, in ignorant
bliss. It was strange that he would know exactly what it meant. 
     A planet had just died. 
     And with it's death, he was born.
     Light from the afternoon day sun caught the reflection in his
shaded lenses, the cool winds pulling at the ends of his redingote.
The white cross was bathed in colours of red and orange from the
flashing lights above. 
     The Man With No Name shifted his stance from atop one of the
buildings. An epiphany he had been waiting for since he had first
awoken came to his mind.
     Sailor Senshi.
     Those were the ones he was waiting for.
     "So," he said quietly. "At last the war has begun...."




               THE WAR IN HEAVEN FALLS TO EARTH.
                                
               CHRONICLES OF THE MESSIAH WARS....





Thanks:

     To Sailor Skuld, who's been incredibly supportive of my
     efforts to finish what Dark Messiah began. It's nice to know
     that I can annihilate a planet, and she lets me get away
     with it. ^^

     To Todd Foster, my Messiah Wars counterpart. A number of the
     scenes between Magellan and Myung are my own retelling of a
     story he has already created. My humblest thanks goes out to
     him for all the contributions he's made to the CoT: Infinity
     trilogy, all the patience he has shown with my writing, and
     more than anything else, all the fun we've both had in
     starting our own little war amidst the Circles of Time
     playing fields.