[center][h1]Previous Entries[/h1][/center]

Chapter 2: On Western Winds
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	It had been a rather unusual day aboard the Warlock as she sailed over the ocean toward her next destination. And the strangeness had little to do with what was going on; to the point, there was just about nothing happening. Sciutto had the ship on a straight course over the open water, and there were no ships or islands in sight for leagues. That made for a very quiet day on the weapons bridge, which left Dan quite a lot of time to himself. After all, there were only so many times he could launch and plug target buoys before he grew bored, and before long his mind began to wander. And like a moth to a flame, he found it constantly returning to the events of that morning in his chambers. If he closed his eyes, he could still recall everything with incredible vividness; the soft sound of the crimson dress floating to the floor. The feel of supple skin beneath his grip. The sight of her body, laid completely bare in the fading moonlight. Taste of her rubious lips as they locked with his own again and again and again. And the words she’d spoken into the darkness. Two little Elvish words that carried so much weight. 
	“Nányë imlë.” 
	“I am yours.”
	Elves were not a race to give themselves to just anybody. Especially not to humans. If an Elf said those words to somebody, it ran much deeper than a simple declaration of love. Love was fleeting and quick to change hands, and all the more so for a race so in tune with the ever-shifting elements of creation. For Elves, claiming a love for something or someone was at best a compliment, and at worst a joke. But devotion… devotion was a different story. When an Elf swore her eternal devotion, it was a binding contract for her. It was a promise to never leave the side of the one she gave it to, unless they left first, to be with them until death did they part. Their devotion was what they saved, what they held onto and dared not speak of to anybody, anybody save one; the one they chose to be their soul mate. That was what Nányë imlë meant, what it symbolized. And Remy had spoken those words to him, she had whispered them into his ear, right before they…
	Dan rapidly shook his head side to side to clear his thoughts. He was still on duty, and if some enemy ship snuck up on them while he was reliving his personal euphoria he’d get a real thrashing from Rastia. And yet, he couldn’t help but drift off to that night again, running through it over and over in his mind’s eye. How could he not smile? The most beautiful women he’d ever known had given her everything, all that she was and all that she would ever be, to him and him alone. But something itched in the back of his mind about the whole affair. It felt… lopsided. Unequal, even. And it was souring the entire thing for him. Surely there was something he was missing, something that was needed and wasn’t there. Surely there was something to be done.
	A fresh breeze blew in from the open window, bringing with it the scent of the salt and sea. As it whipped about his face, Dan closed his eyes and reveled in it; he’d always enjoyed the feel of the wind on his face. It was fitting, really, given his domain back in On’Eman. It was even better on a day as gorgeous as this, when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and wouldn’t be until the morrow.
	His eyes snapped open suddenly. That was it. That’s what was missing, and here was the solution staring him right in the face. His smile broadened into the grin that was all too familiar to those that knew him; it was a grin that he showed when he had an idea. But first, he had some preparations to get started on. And they would take some time, something he thankfully had plenty of right now. 
	Later that night, as the sun finished its journey below the horizon and the night sky resumed its vigil, dinner had concluded aboard the Warlock and her faithful crew all returned to their quarters. Remy and Dan had sat across from one another at the meal, trading knowing glances, warm smiles, and flushed faces back and forth as they ate. Perhaps their comrades had noticed, perhaps not. They didn’t seem to care. And yet, there were doubts that began to surface in Remy’s mind as she walked back to her cabin. He’d responded to her confession in kind, that was true. But how could she be sure? How could she know he’d been sincere, that he hadn’t lied to her again? If he’d been walking arm in arm with her now, like she’d hoped he would be, she could certainly ask him, but he’d departed on his own after dinner to see to some task, leaving her with only a promise to see her later that night. But that could mean a multitude of things. She tried to ponder things as she opened the door to her room, but was stopped by a glint of light bouncing off of something on the bed. Closer inspection revealed it to be the brooch that had adorned her dress on that fateful night. It had been tossed about in the passions of the moment, and in her haste to redress herself and depart in the morn she had forgotten it. Accompanying it was a folded piece of paper, upon which was written but three sentences in a simple script. 
“Come out to the main deck when you see this. I’ve a surprise for you.”
“PS: I heavily advise against wearing a dress.”
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZgDqrziAryw)
	It wasn’t long before she was making her way out to the deck, dressed in one of her less common ensembles that included pants. She opened the door and looked out across the ship… and saw nothing. Not a soul was to be seen anywhere, and only the gentle swelling of the waves could be felt. Had she been jilted? Tricked? Played for a fool by the man she thought loved her? She was about to storm back to his room and confront him… when something caught her eye. Another glimmer off the surface of the deck. Slowly, cautiously, she began to make her way toward it. As she got closer, it was revealed to be an elegant necklace, crafted in fine gold with a pendent inlaid with emeralds laying on the deck. She kneeled down, picked it up, and stood again that she might behold it in the glow of the deck lights. As she contemplated it, a breeze drifted past her. And within the breeze, as it brushed by her pointed ears, came a voice. A voice that was all too familiar to her.
	“Well, put it on.”
	Her head snapped up and began to search this way and that, looking for the source of the voice. Again, she found nobody around but herself. Perplexed and curious, she turned back toward the necklace in her hand. With a deep intake of her breath and the slightest trepidation she lifted the chain over her head and let the pendant come to rest just above her bosom. As soon as it settled around her neck the mage’s finely tuned senses detected the magic within it. Magic that was now communing with the air around her, causing it to stir and dance about. It began gently, but it was building steadily, gathering strength for something. Again the breeze flew past, and again the voice spoke to her on the wind.
“Hold on now, this is going to feel strange at first.”
	All at once the winds swirling about her feet surged in power and began to slowly, gingerly lift her from the deck and into the air. With time, the updraft grew in force and was soon sending her upwards at greater speeds. In little time at all the Warlock was little more than a child’s bath toy to her perspective, and still she soared upwards on the column of wind. And then, as steadily as they had risen, the winds quieted themselves, reduced their ascent to holding her steady and aloft. They concentrated and focused themselves on an almost solid platform of air under her feet, and she found that they followed her feet as they moved. Scared as she might have been, she slowly began to realize there was nothing to worry about. 
“Sorry about that, it was probably even more uncomfortable given my lack of recent practice.”
	Her eyes widened as she heard the voice for the third time, not on the wind, but from nearby. She turned around slowly, and there she saw the man she loved standing atop the air much like she was, relaxed and calm as if he belonged there. He began to walk toward her, and when he was close enough his arm reached out and gently brushed the back of her head as he leaned forward to touch his forehead to hers. For the moment, words were unnecessary between them. Then, he spoke again.
“May I have this dance?”
She gasped in surprise, at first. Surely he didn’t plan to… but then she smiled. Of course he planned to do just that. It was what he did. It was what made her fall in love with him all those years before.
“Of course you may.”
With that, she moved one hand to rest on his shoulder while the other rose and suspended itself in the air. His hand moved from the back of her head to her hips as his other rose to meet hers in the air, and with the opening of his eyes the wind began to move once more. It swirled and whirled about them, the sounds making a melody all their own. She pressed her body close to his and they began to step and spin across the sky, with only the stars as witnesses and the midnight air as their personal ballroom. The world below was momentarily forgotten in their joined ecstasy, a distant place that was of no concern and little significance. All the pain, the sorrow, the trials and tribulations, all of it was swept aside by the force of the gale whose tune they danced to. For a while they simply left all their cares behind, let them fall into the sea below as they danced for what seemed to be hours. Finally, their movements began to slow. The winds died down, and soon they simply stood there holding each other in the sky. Verdant eyes met gold, and a moment later they moved, each as the other, into a deep, passionate kiss. 
Their lips remained locked as the platform of air began to descend, bringing them safely back to ground. Only when their feet once more rested on polished wood and metal did they break their gentle caress of each other’s mouth, but still they held each other. Their eyes locked again. His lungs filled with air, and with a single breath he spoke. 
	“Imlë, melmënya, tenna airë metta.” 
	Yours, my love, until eternity’s end.

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Chapter 3: Dancing Lights
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	Much to her dismay, Remy had slept in far too late after the fateful night.
	In a sea of frazzled blonde hair, she woke as if she were breaking from the constraints of a nightmare; with the shudder of her breadth while her gaze caught the sun. Had last night been a dream, or an illusion of some sort? A fingertip slowly rose to her bottom lip and lightly touched it as her tongue gently ran across it. She could still taste him on her lip, and a flush rose like a writhing flame to her cheeks as the gravity of the night before crashed down upon her. 
	With remarkable haste the Magi rushed towards the shower, tossing her clothes onto the nearby chair as she hurriedly found herself beneath the relaxing stream of hot water. Quickly, ever hastily so, she applied the necessary shampoo and conditioner as the scent of lilac overcame her little cabin. Nonchalantly drying herself off with a cool towel, she strode back into the room to look at the clothing from the evening before. 
	Taking it into her touch, she quickly realized that she would not be able to wear such clothing to work; for it still smelled like him. Such a scent crawled past her senses, and the rosy hue on her cheek grew only darker but for a moment as she dug through the drawers of her chest. Smoothly, she slipped on new undergarments, and this time took upon a dress that was of the deepest sapphire. Bordered in silver embroidery, it clung to her figure in similar fashion to the dress he had seen that night. 
Doing a small twirl, the dress smoothly furled and then promptly unfurled about her as she came to a stop. As much as she would’ve preferred to have the time to properly prepare for work, her late awakening would be truly a detriment as the Frost Queen had no other time but to run a brush through her hair before hurrying from her cabin and rushing down the hallway. 
	Kaal was there waiting for her at the Quartermaster’s Hold.
	With a wry smile and a tapping of foot; the grinning divine being eyed the flustered magi with a coy grin. “You look rather ravishing today dear, my…you’re glowing! “
	Her head shook violently in response, with golden tresses falling in a rolling wave about her shoulders as she finally came to a stop.  “I am? Oh no…I must’ve put on too much makeup.” She proclaimed convincingly with a slump of her shoulders. Yet the woman interfered with her, gliding across the short distance to stare closely at the blushing girl. 
	“No no…not that at all. You must have done something you weren’t supposed to with someone?!” the deity cried out in revelation. “Who is the lucky guy, hm? Was it Dan?” Frantically, her hands rose disarmingly as if she was a thief caught in the act, but she would still continue to defiantly deny the allegation. “No it wasn’t…I just must’ve had a peculiar dream. I love him, but it doesn’t mean we automatically have done something!!”
	Kaal finally backed off then, giving the magi a skeptical look as the girl picked up the accounting books and a quill of pen, marking off the most recent loss of targeting dummies that ironically the gunman was using as practice. Such a thought made her roll her eyes in amusement alongside a soft but smitten smile.
	Across the room, the Goddess saw this…and just shook her head slightly in amusement. 
	Later that evening after the work had ended for the night, the entirety of Blades had gathered in the mess hall together for supper. Each of them claiming their seat impatiently in wanting another piece of succulent food from the ship’s head cook, Jod. Her patience however, had paid off in fact, as there was only one seat that was left; located right across from the very Gunman she had sworn herself to that beautiful moment in the morning. 
	Sliding into her seat smoothly in front of him, they exchanged knowing glances, warm smiles and the like with one another. Yet their meal proceeded quietly, which struck her as peculiar as the uproar of a usual evening meal started up around them. Naturally beginning of course, with the throwing of food which gravely offended one soul and was retaliated with in turn; gradually, the entire hall erupted into one mass food fight. 
	Everyone was involved except for two. 
	In the madness that surrounded them, two Lovers simply remained calm and collected, each going their separate ways after they were finished with their respective meals. She naturally was a little slower than him, as to not draw suspicion.  Not that anyone had noticed, at least she had thought as much.
	Yet the utter lack of conversation at dinner was troublesome in itself.
	Had he lied to her? Like he had when they met at long last once again?
	Shaking her head, the Magi decided that it was wise not to dwell on the negative. It was most unwise, even more so as she opened the door to her cabin and saw a glint of light from the setting sun upon her bed.  Walking over towards it, her eyes widened ever slightly as she immediately recognized it. The jewel that lay before her was her brooch! Gently picking it up, her fingertips ran across the gemstone’s smooth surface as she relished the thought of the morning prior.
	A truly beautiful moment…truly.
However, there was something beneath it, and carefully she picked up the folded piece of paper and glimpsed about to see if she was being watched while the door slowly crawled to a close. Opening it quickly, the word scrawled across them drew her to immediately grasp a change of clothes. With a simple white blouse, and a pair of capris with some comfortable boots, she walked out from the door and into the docks towards the rear of the ship where none could see her as night had finally fell upon them.
	There was a glisten, a faint, fickle glisten.
	Striding towards it, the Magi plucked up the piece of fine jewelry and closely inspected it beneath the flicker of a light from the ship. Magic resonated from it, and she could easily sense that much; but whose magic was it? Her answer came in the sound of his voice.  Jumping slightly in surprise, her gaze looked over the immediate area in search of her beloved, yet he was nowhere to be found. Further instruction came then, and hesitantly she lifted the beautiful piece of art, and clasped it about the curvature of her slender neck.
	What happened next was far beyond anything she’d ever expect.
	Like literal magic Remy was lifted into the air, as if she were swept up into the warm breezes of the nighttime sea as she muffled her own cry of surprise. In all truth, she was quite terrified to start as she spiraled up into the night; yet, the welcoming voice of Dan is what truly made her feel at ease. Reaching for her, she gently took his hand with a nervous smile as they literally stood upon thin air. Drawn close, his forehead came to rest warmly with hers, and with his touch her fingertips rose to gently rest on his forearm while any apprehension faded like the snows of winter upon the first day of spring. Hastened breath slowed, and even with the ship hundreds of feet below them, the Magi was more than at ease. 
He asked a question, a silly, peculiar question when one is floating in midair. But it was a beautiful question nonetheless. He asked her for a dance. Nodding softly, she soon found her footing to be solid upon the wind itself as they swept across the sky in such magnificent grace. With two souls so incredibly light of foot silhouetted by the moon, it was almost a pity that none would ever see such a dance. It was something far greater than what anyone should ever see, it was a memory that only they, and they alone could cherish. 
	In a flowing twirl, she was brought close to him once again in a wondrous kiss as the winds began to die. Slowly bringing her down from cloud nine; the two would settle their footing back upon The Warlock once again. Only this time as their lips parted he took a deep breath as she stared into his eyes and with a chain of select phrases, he gave her a response that she had dreamt of. 
	“Imlë, melmënya, tenna airë metta.” 
	Yours, my love, until eternity’s end.
Her eyes widened in shock but for a few brief moments before a serene smile appeared upon her lips. Slowly, her head would lean forward to rest upon his shoulder and linger there quietly for a few moments. If he tried to move, she wouldn’t dare let him go even if someone discovered them. It mattered not. He had sworn his devotion to her as well, and she had to first fight back tears of joy before stepping away. 
	Reaching into her pocket, she extracted a smoothly cut ruby set upon gold, it was a gem that he would easily recognize. It was the one that he had removed from her the night before. No longer could she grasp the thought of living an eternity, no longer would she dredge along in the woes of immortality. For it was simple, the Magi refused the thought of no longer walking beside him in the years ahead. Closing her eyes in a moment of focus, they would slowly open to look at him again with a beautiful smile beside it.
	The luminous green she always seemed to possess were fading.
	Yet the brooch she held began to shine with a beautiful, yet faint light.
Striding to him, the Magi slowly took the Huntsman’s hand into her own, and placed the brooch within it. Drawing closer to him, her arms slowly raised to wrap about his neck once again as she stood upon the tips of her toes to gently kiss his cheek followed by a whisper in common tongue so that only he could hear it. 
	“For you, Dan Halen…I will live a mortal life.”
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Chapter 4: Memoirs in the Night
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	It was a quiet night aboard the Warlock. It was a rare thing in those times, given the relentless pursuit that had been placed over them by Salador Cipher, so the crew met it with a mixture of gratitude and suspicion. Dan Halen leaned more toward the latter, but he welcomed the chance to ease back regardless. If nothing else, it gave him some liberty to take the evening for himself, and the gentle sound of heated water spewing out of a showerhead was all that filled his cabin on the ship as he basked in the steam and the cleansing flow. Luci had the nightwatch in the gun bay, which meant he could spend the evening getting a full night’s rest. Of course, that was relative- there was still a fifty-fifty chance he would spend half his sleep wracking himself with guilt over what had transpired the day he left On’Eman. 
	He reached out his hand to brace against the shower wall as he bowed his head directly under the water stream, letting it wash over his dark brown hair and down his body to the drain. To think, even after all this time, he still dwelled on those days. Try as he might to let it all pass him as the years had, something within him wouldn’t allow him to. Perhaps that was the punishment he’d subconsciously inflicted upon himself- to forever languish over his deeds and what they had brought on for his home. To eternally remind him of his sins in the face of everything he did to forget them. It seemed that no matter how he tried to suppress his emotions and bury his feelings, he could not help but return to and torment himself with them. At the end of the day, regardless of the power he wielded, he was only human.
	That thought led his other hand to reach up and touch the object that dangled from a chain on his neck. It was a piece of jewelry, embroidered in gold and inlaid with one of the purest rubies he’d ever seen. Of course, it wasn’t as though he could forget what it looked like. Not after the meaning it had come to hold. The little brooch had started as a gatekeeper for what was very much in the running for the happiest night of his life. Not long after, it had become a memento to accompany a message he had left for the person it belonged to. But now… now it was something so much more. On that night that seemed so far gone but still echoed in his head with crystalline clarity, his beloved had used that very jewel as a catalyst to seal away her Elven immortality, removing from herself the force that would normally have allowed her to walk across the centuries unblemished by age. Because of him and the love they shared, she had chosen to live as a mortal. 
	“No,” he said out loud, “Not because. For.”
	That was the key. It had been her choice and hers alone to weave the spell that brought her to equal footing with him. There had been no need, no pressing reason, no urgent demand that she do so; only her wishes. What thoughts had led her to that end, he could not say, but the fact remained that she had taken everything that made her birth higher than his, locked it away… and given it to him. Was it for safekeeping? It was a possibility. After all, there were some beings in the universe that could use an Elf’s immortality to do terrible things. But Dan sensed that there was more to it than that. This jewel, regardless of what it had been before, now held a piece of her, a piece that she had willing given to him as a sign of true affection. That was why he had attached it to a chain, fittingly the very same chain from which the hourglass pendant had once hung. That was why he had draped it about his neck. And that was why he never took it off, for any reason. With a push off from his bracing arm, he stood upright in the shower again and allowed the gem to settle where it belonged; dangling just in front of his sternum, close to his heart.
	With a crank of the dial, the shower ceased its flow and the hunter stepped outside to towel himself off. A swipe of his hand removed a layer of condensation from the nearby mirror, and he bent over so he could see his hair- another necessity of his height. When he was satisfied that his mane wasn’t too tossed about, he stood up again and noted that when he did so the mirror reflected the little gem, with its dancing light that faintly glowed inside of it. He raised a finger to tap the ruby several times, an action that set the light playfully darting about inside of its little house, as though it were somehow conscious. As startling as the curious reaction had been when he first discovered it, by now it was something Dan had come to accept. Far from anything hostile, he’d come to liken the behavior to an excited puppy being teased with a ball. A few more taps followed, until the “puppy” seemed to be simmering down and tiring out. After that, he pulled on a pair of black lounge pants, exited the bathroom, and climbed into his bed, eager to get some sleep.
	All was quiet as the hunter’s eyelids began to slide shut, gently whisking him off to the world of dreams as he rolled onto his side. Fifteen minutes later, however, he felt the sheets move ever so slightly as a lithe, svelte shape stealthily slipped into the bed with him. Ordinarily, he would have been sitting up and wide awake with the reflexes of a great cat the second he felt the disturbance. But the little ruby gave the game away; the second the extra presence had been in the room, the little light had started darting about again, as if its owner was coming home to it. Dan neither moved nor prepared to move, as there was absolutely no need to be on guard. Of all the people on board the ship, nobody meant him less harm than the person who was sliding under the covers with him at that moment.
	A slight chill washed over him as Remy’s delicate palm came to rest on his shoulder while the rest of her body curled up against his back. That got his attention and gave his eyes caused to open once again. The Magi’s frigid aura was one that waxed and waned with her emotional state; when Remy was happy and times were pleasant, it was nonexistent, whereas if her anger was stirred she was liable to subconsciously turn her surroundings into a small ice cavern. Normally, when they were together in private, as they were now, the aura would be entirely absent. Its slight, trepidatious nature that was making his hairs stand on end told him this was not a nighttime visit because Remy was in a good mood. Judging from the degree of the sensation, she had come to his room because something was troubling her. And given the lateness of the hour it was all too likely to have been a nightmare of some kind. As if to confirm his suspicions, the hand she had placed on his shoulder squeezed on his upper back as she clutched herself in as close to him as she could. Then she started to speak in as soft and quiet a voice as was possible, her fearful emotions coloring her tone to something that pained him to hear.
	“Dan? I’m… I’m sorry, I just-“
	Before she could finish, he was in motion. His weight shifted to pull his body into a roll that brought his shoulder out of her grip, separated their bodies, and took him to the other side of the bed. The separation lasted but a moment, however, for as soon as he had rolled over completely and was facing her he moved again. This time, he pushed his body straight across to where he had been before as his arm swept gently across the both of them under the covers, arching well over her shoulders before touching down on the opposite side. Satisfied with his position, he put his hand on her upper back and pulled, coaxing the Magi ever so gently across the sheets until she was safely nestled up against his bare chest and underneath his arm.
	“Shhh,” he said to her in a voice every bit as quiet as hers had been, “It’s okay, melmënya. I’m right here.”
	With those words of reassurance, the chill began to slowly fade away as she found a comfortable position in his embrace and slowly closed her eyes. Sleep soon followed, as the dancing light of the brooch around his neck made soft, playful gleams across her face and the golden tresses of hair that draped over it.
	And if the man who wore it knew just what that dancing light was about to do, there was a strong chance he would have pulled it away. But magic often works in ways that even its most masterful wielders cannot comprehend. As if the part of her that lay within the pendant sensed the foul dreams that haunted Remy’s sleeping hours, it began to send her new images to fill her mind’s eye.  Scenes that she could not have possibly witnessed or known of began to occupy her slumbering thoughts, scenes that the little gem could only have retrieved from one place; the memories of the man currently holding her tight, warm, and safe in his arms.
	
	As sleep overtook her and Remy’s mind began to wander through the realm of dreams, she would find it to be much like making her way through a dense white mist. Slowly, as if she were nearing the fog’s edge, it would begin to thin out ever so slightly before a great gust of wind blew past her face, forcing the Magi to cover her eyes. When she opened them again, she found she was standing in a small meadow, with flowers of every color in full bloom all around her. It was achingly familiar, yet she could not place it. Before long, however, she realized that she was not alone. Standing close at hand was a man dressed in black, his back turned to her and his face obscured. But even from such an angle, the body shape, aura, and the ornate longsword held at the silhouette’s hip left no room for doubt or dissention; it was her beloved, as he had once been all those years ago. 
	He was standing with his head bowed, his hands folded in front of him, facing what appeared to be two rounded stones. It was a stance of reverence, one normally reserved for monarchs, deities, and those who had earned the blademaster’s respect. He made no response or recognition to her presence, gave no sign that she was even there. Only when another voice came from behind him did he move at all.
	“Can’t say I would have expected to find you here, of all places. I always got the impression you didn’t like him and kept your distance from her.”
	The voice came from another man who had entered the clearing, this one clad in a formal trenchcoat ensemble with a katana resting at his waist- L Rastia, Warden of Earth. The Dan Halen present in the meadow turned his head to see his comrade in arms approaching- passing straight through Remy’s form like a ghost as he did- and gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement before turning back to the stones.
	“It doesn’t matter what my opinion of them was in life,” he said in response, “The dead are owed their dues.”
	“Fair enough, I suppose,” the great leader said as he came to stand abreast of the Warden of Air. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us, you and I.”
	“Don’t I know it. Rebuilding a world from the brink of destruction isn’t the kind of thing that can be done in a day. Nor does it help that it seems… seems we’ll be two men down for it.”
	“I find it very odd that replacements haven’t been chosen, don’t you?”
	“Not particularly. Those old crystals are as fickle and as finicky as they come. Remember how long we waited before they finally agreed on her?”
	“Years on end for her to show up, followed by months of a holding pattern while those rockheads debated about it.”
	The two men stood in silence for a while, reflecting on days long past. After several minutes, it was Dan who broke the silence.
	“They’ll come to their decisions. Eventually. For now, you and I simply have to make do with what we have.”
	“I guess you’re right. See you back at the tower?”
	“Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”
	With that, the katana wielder stalked away from whence he came, leaving Remy to once again observe the gunman alone. As Rastia’s footsteps faded away into silence, the longsword master returned his attention to the stones at his feet. This time, there was no reverent bowing of the head, no silent vigil for the lost. This time, he dropped onto one knee before the stone on his right, his hand reaching out and tracing the lines carved into its face with his thumb. As he did so, there came a tiny, almost imperceptible sound of water dripping at a painfully slow rate. The noise’s source soon became clear, however; it was the unmistakable sound of tears. Dan Halen, the man known as the iron willed and steely nerved Warden of Air, was crying. The droplets seemed to make their way down his face and then to the ground only in slow motion, like watching a great wall come crashing down piece by tiny piece, all while his hand snaked along the smooth earthen surface before him. 
	“It should have been me.” He said in a voice so low, even he could scarcely hear it. 
	Finally, his thumb concluded its painstaking route along the face of the stone and he stood again. His eyes had dried, his face resumed its neutral expression, and only the small water stains that were even then fading into the ground stood testament to the existence of his sorrow. 
	“Au revoir, ma geler fleur.”
	He walked away from the stones at long last. The white mists of the dream began to slide in again, but before they could conceal the meadow entirely the magi managed to glimpse what adorned the front of the stone he’d been kneeling before; “Remy Antoinette, Mistress of Time” engraved above the image of an intricate water droplet, and below it inscribed “May she now craft snowfalls among the angels.”
	
	After some time, the dreamfog began to thin again to reveal another scene. This time, the scenery was instantly recognizable- it was the streets of Imagi, one of the great cities of On’Eman. The sky was painted with the hues of oncoming dusk, and all the lights of the city’s night life were beginning to shine one by one. All of them, save for one district toward the center, where the lights remained off. A crowd of people gathered, not to party or to socialize, but to surround and see a macabre scene. Lying in the middle of the walkway was a white button-down shirt, a suit jacket, matching pants, and a pair of dress shoes, all arranged as if they had been worn on somebody laying down on their stomach. Splashed against the nearby city walls and sidewalk was what could only be blood, arranged in a grisly manner that suggest someone had been brutally attacked there. And the smell, the rancid, horrid scent of a soul freshly departed filled the air, enough to make those unaccustomed to it nauseous. But, oddly enough, there was no body to be found. Just the clothes arranged there on the ground, as if the man wearing them had simply up and vanished. The On’Eman Police, with support from the Ragtag Princes Guild, was managing the site, but none of them knew quite what to make of it. For now, they busied themselves with keeping the area clear of civilians. As Remy watched, a figure started to push his way through the crowd to the front. Only when he came into the light cast by the small generators the police had brought could she recognize Dan once more. His eyes were laden with bags of sleeplessness, and his mouth twisted in an unpleasant way when he was accosted by an officer trying to bar him access.
	“Sir, I’m afraid I can’t let you through, this is a restricted-“
	“Restricted?” the swordsman barked, “If it’s restricted to me, then how on earth did YOU get access? Get out of my way.”
	“It’s okay,” came the voice of the orange-haired, eyepatch sporting officer in charge, “Let him through, his clearance level makes ours look like chump change.”
	As the officer begrudgingly lifted the crime scene tape, Dan ducked under it and stalked over with the chief to examine the scene more closely, exchanging pleasantries as he went.
	“Dan.”
	“Joker.”
	“How goes things at the top of the proverbial food chain? Warden of the West now, isn’t it?”
	“Same shit, different day, unfortunately. Managing a quarter of the world was bad enough, having to pick up Hawthorne’s quadrant with all of its disorder alongside it? I’ve gotten a total of 5 hours of sleep in the past 3 days trying to sort through it all.”
	“I had heard something like that. If it’s all the same, I don’t envy your position.”
	“Nor should you. I understand you’ve got a weird case on your hands here?”
	“Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it. Blood spatters and stains all up and down the street, clothes lying there on the ground, but not a body in sight.”
	“Do we know who it was?”
	“Just that he was in one of these buildings before that big power outage hit a few hours ago. But given this is the business center of Imagi? That’s not much of a clue.”
	“Let me guess, power went out, the buildings were evacuated for safety, and when the lights came back on, this was here?”
	“It’s like you’ve done this before.”
	“Only a little.”
	By then they had reached the pile of clothes. The Warden bent down to get a closer look at the clothing on the ground, his hand hovering just above it so as to not contaminate anything.
	“Think he might still be alive?”
	“After losing this much blood? There’s no way. And look here, the shirt’s still buttoned, the pants are still zipped, and the shoes are still tied. You ever tried to take your pants off without unzipping them? I think your victim here got erased.”
	“Erased? As in wiped out?”
	“As in deleted,” he snapped his fingers to indicate an instantaneous action, “Poof, up in smoke, gone. Just like that.”
	“And I don’t suppose you know of something that could do that?”
	“Plenty of things could, if their target stood still. Or was already dead, for that matter.”
	“Somebody REALLY didn’t want us finding out who this used to be then.”
	“If that’s the case,” Dan replied as he stood again, “They did a poor job of covering their tracks. See if that blood on the walls can get you anywhere, and keep me in the loop. This smells fouler than the average murder.”
	“Way ahead of you. We were just getting ready to clean up here, a sample’s already en route to the lab.”
	“Good man, I’ll get out of the way then. Might want to clear the civvies out though. Just to be safe.”
	“Fair enough. Alright boys, let’s wrap it up and go home!”
	While the police department cleaned up the scene and the civilians lost interest and walked away, Dan stepped to the other side of the street, leaned up against one of the buildings, his eyes closed and a small gust whipping back and forth across his feet. Some time later, when the crime scene was cleared and the spectacle had died out, the last police car finally loaded up and drove away. Once its lights had faded away in the distance, he was left alone in the darkened district. His eyes snapped open, the golden irises gleaming amidst the night like a panther’s, and he began to slowly make his way down the street. The Magi’s dreaming form followed him, as though she were compelled to keep pace with his movements, and once out in front of him she saw that though his head stayed facing straight ahead, his eyes darted back and forth, constantly scanning his surroundings. At the same time, he was muttering something under his breath, barely intelligible, but if she strained her Elven ears she could make it out.
	“Come on, I know you’re here. Your scent is nothing short of putrid, and that’s not even counting the fresh blood I still smell. I’m by myself, the district’s still dark, what more could you possibly be waiting f-“
	It happened instantaneously, and had Remy blinked she would have missed it as a large, shadowy shape descended on her beloved from above. As it was nearly upon him, Dan dove forward into a roll that turn him around, and in a flash of metal he was standing with sword in hand, ready to fight. What faced him was a creature the likes of which neither of them had ever seen. The creature’s overall body shape was reminiscent of a praying mantis, but rather than scythes its arms ended in a pair of six-fingered claws that dug into the ground as if it were paper. It was covered in what appeared to be a jet-black, insect like chitin plating, and its maw was hanging open to put its rows of jagged, razor sharp teeth on full display. The mere sight of the beast was enough to give Dan pause, and the creature did not miss its chance. With incredible agility it lunged forward, raking one of its claws along the ground and ripping the asphalt to shreds in its wake. Before it could strike, however, its prey was in the air, leaping over the attack and coming straight with the tip of his sword aimed at the monster’s neck. The blade struck, but the armored carapace of the beast turned the tip aside and sent the swordsman jumping harmlessly away as it tried to swipe at him again. His landing left him little time to breath, for the creature was once again rushing toward him with claws drawn. This time, the swordsman stood his ground, deflecting the reaching claw with his blade and knocking it aside. With the appendage out of the way, he turned his sword as only a master could and sliced across the inside of the creature’s arm. This time, the armor did not deflect his attack, for he had managed to strike the weakened portion of it that covered the undersides of the arm. As the monsters blood splashed through the air, it let out a great wailing scream that resembled a whale’s, if that whale had uttered a guttural roar instead of a normal call. It began to thrash about, perhaps in pain, perhaps in rage, and possibly even both, tearing apart anything in range. In its flailing, one of its claws managed to strike the Warden, sending him sprawling almost ten yards away as a burst of his vital fluids was tossed into the air. After a handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on for hours, his sword arm raised the weapon and embedded the tip in the ground, where he used it as a brace to raise himself up. There was a large gash across his stomach where the monster had struck him, and blood still trickled out from the wound, but still he smiled.
	“Well then,” he said as he stood and held his sword aloft, pointing it at the creature, “Seems we can both bleed.”
	Spurred on in its rage by his remark, the creature coiled its legs and took a low leap toward the Warden. As it came closer and closer, the breeze that had been whipping about Dan’s feet suddenly erupted into a great galeforce updraft that flowed along with his sword in a sweeping slash that sent the creature flailing high into the air! With another updraft he was airborne, rising high above the spinning beast with his sword raised over his head. As his jump came to its peak, more gales began to form that propelled him back and forth across the sky, slashing at the monster’s weak underbelly with each pass before finally ending right above it. With one final burst of air, he launched himself downward, delivering a single, decisive slash that cut the monstrosity cleanly in half before the many winds he had spawned converged and tore what remained to pieces with blades of air. Once landed back on the ground, he stood as the scattered body parts rained down around him and disappeared, turning to blackened dust and fading in the wind as they fell. His sword returned to its scabbard, and he watched as the last piece- the creature’s head- faded away before him.
	“Well, I daresay I’ve found Joker’s killer. Suppose I’d better go and get this wound looked-”
	Another bloodcurdling screech erupted as a second creature sprang from atop one of the nearby buildings toward him, claws extended and reaching for his throat! It would never get there, however, because its path was cut off by a great glowing vine lashing out from a nearby alleyway that wrapped around the second beast’s neck and snapped downward, severing its head from its body in one clean crack as it was inches from the Warden’s back.
	“Now now my dear, what have I told you about letting your guard down?”
	A voice that was achingly familiar to both Dan and the Magi observing him came from the place the vine whip was retreating to. Out of the dark alley stepped a woman clad in a vibrant green sundress, cut so as to show off her shapely legs, with her shoulder length crimson hair blowing in a light wind that seemed to exist just for her personal photogenics. Once she stood in the dim light of the night sky, she was instantly recognizable. After all, the goddess Amelia, or, as most knew her, Sangre de la Rosa, was not very easily forgotten. 
	“Perhaps I had a gut instinct that there was some pending divine intervention?”
	“Ohoho. Thank you, but flattery won’t get you shit with me hon.”
	“Who says I was trying to flatter you?”
	After a moment where the two simply stared each other down, they finally broke into a unified bout of laughter. In the middle of it, Sangre managed to bring herself to raise a hand and touch Dan’s torso, where a light flashed briefly and was gone, leaving a repaired shirt and a healed wound in its wake. 
	“Gotta watch that stuff, it’ll get infected if you leave it.”
	“Oh sure. Next time I’m locked in combat with an eldritch terror hellbent on my destruction, wound hygiene will be the first thing on my mind.”
	“I will smite you.”
	“Go ahead, it’ll give me an excuse to take a day off!”
	They laughed some more, until finally the reveling was broken as the goddess took her friend’s head in her hands and forced him to come face to face with her. Her eyes looked into his, as if scouring his soul for something. She let him go some time later, shaking her head slowly from side to side. 
	“Oh Dan, Dan, Dan. The past couple of weeks have not been kind.”
	“I don’t need you to tell me that. It hasn’t been easy, carrying on without them here.”
	“Don’t you try to snow me, Danny boy,” she said, putting her fingertip on his chest in rebuke, “You mean it’s been the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do in your life. And it’s not because you have to keep living when they aren’t here. It’s because you have to keep living when she’s not here.”
	His head snapped up to look her in the eyes again. His face was neutral, but his eyes, filling up with pain, guilt, and the burden of those who survive, told all that was needed. His hand began to clench into a fist… and then fell open again as he averted his gaze.
	“I never thought it would be this difficult,” he began softly, the slightest hint of a tremble edging his voice. “I always stayed at arm’s length. The impulses where there, but I never acted on them.”
	A smirk drenched in irony erupted from his mouth, a darkened and depressed version of his usual laugh.
	“Maybe that was my folly. I had plenty of chances, but I always passed them up. Even after she and Hawthorne had their falling out. I just… I don’t know. It should be easy to move on…”
	“Of course it should be, by that logic. But since when have our feelings ever listened to logic?”
	Sangre tilted her head slightly, her eyes catching something on his chest. 
	“Could it have something to do with whatever’s in your breast pocket, I wonder?”
	“What, this…?”
	He fumbled inside of his suit jacket, until finally he withdrew a small pouch. He gazed curiously at it, then opened it up to remember what was inside. As he turned the pouch upside down, a small bracelet crafted in gold with four tiny sapphires embedded in it tumbled out into his hand. Once he realized what it was, Dan smiled wistfully at it.
	“That’s right. I… I bought this for her, back when we first discovered that the land was dying. I meant to give it to her and… tell her how I felt. But the day I finally plucked up the courage to do it was the day we found out about…”
	His speech broke away as he distantly recalled what had happened. When they discovered that one of them would have to die for the land to live. She had volunteered so quickly, and all he had been able to do was cook and serve her last meal. He clenched his hand over the bracelet before putting it back in its house and stowing it in his suit again. As he finished doing so, however, he found the goddess’ fingers under his chin and lifting his head up.
	“Ah, so it’s regret. You always were one to beat yourself up before you knew the full story. But enough about that, I didn’t physically manifest to give you advice on your love life. I did it to bring you a warning.”
	“A warning? About what?”
	“About those things we just killed. And what’s coming after them.”
	
	The mists began to fill in once more, obscuring the cityscape from Remy’s view. For a while she seemed to stand there in the whiteness, unsure of what to expect next. It reminded her of a storyteller who was trying to recall which part of the story ought to be told next. Finally, however, the fog began to recede again, this time showing her to a place that was entirely unlikely she had forgotten. It was a ridge overlooking a vast plain, with grass and grain that stretched on for acres in every direction before terminating at a coastal cliff overlooking the great sea. And situated at the edge of the cliff was a colossal portal, nearly 200 feet tall that dominated the horizon. The portal was a staple of life in On’Eman, for it was through the massive device that any and all trade and travel occurred for the land. The Grand Gate it was called, and it was through it that On’Eman was connected to all other worlds in existence. Ordinarily, the field surrounding it was covered with merchants, performers, and travelers of all sorts as a welcome mat for newcomers to On’Eman. But today, not a single soul treaded before the Grand Gate. Standing before it was a mass of black and dark purple as a menagerie of creatures that resembled the two Dan and Sangre had killed in substance paraded about before it in what could be roughly seen as battle lines. Many were like the mantis creatures from the earlier night, while others resembled different creatures, such as hyenas, elephants, scorpions, spiders, and no less than three truly colossal monstrosities that suggested a basis in horses, but were so large that it was hard to believe they had managed to fit through the Grand Gate. There was no mistaking what had been laid out before all of On’Eman; this was an invasion force.
	But the world they sought to invade was not slumbering in the wake of such an onslaught. Gathered in ranks on the opposite side of the field, just beneath the ridge, stood every soldier, warrior, and adventurer that could be found across On’Eman. Legionnaires, sailors, mercenaries, pirates, martial artists, even a small selection of death row inmates had been contracted to fight. Even more stunning, perhaps, was the group of people lining the ridge itself. Hundreds of spellslingers and marksmen of all kinds stood along the precipice of the overhang, armed with an assortment of bows, crossbows, pistols, rifles, cannons, staves, enchanted gauntlets, ritual daggers, and all other manner of firearms and mystical tools that anyone could think of. And just behind them stood a circle of men and women robed in white; Ayame’s Choir, the group of healers said to be able to halt entire plagues when marshalled, standing by and waiting to tend to the wounded at a moment’s notice. And in the middle of the ensemble, standing directly in front of Remy, were the three individuals who commanded the entire operation; Dan, Sangre, and Rastia.
	“They’re terrified,” the katana wielder began to say. “Every single one of them.”
	“Of course they are. These things are world-devouring monstrosities from the space between worlds that erase anything they kill. Nobody WANTS to fight them.”
	“Perhaps what they need is a rousing speech.”
	“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give it?”
	“Why would I? I’m pretty sure half of these suckers don’t even believe in me.”
	“I’ve never been good at formal speaking.”
	“Besides which, neither one of us can talk to everybody at once.”
	The hunter sighed and rubbed one of his temples. He was good at public speaking, that much was true, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. Still, Sangre was correct; of the three of them, he was the only one who could make a speech to the entire army on such short notice. So, with a deep breath, he stepped forward onto a platform of air a few feet in front of the ridge. With a wave of his hand, a small breeze began to blow past the ears of every denizen that had been armed and gathered for the battle. And as Dan spoke, the breeze carried his words to each of them, like a makeshift megaphone, but more personal.
	“People of On’Eman, lend me your ears. I can sense it, my brothers and sisters! I can sense the fear, the terror that dwells in each of your hearts. And I know it well, for the same horror would take the heart of me! You are well to be afraid; our enemy, who stands there by the gate, is not of this world. They do not know fear or despair, for they exist only to kill and consume. And should they triumph here, they will devour all that we hold dear in our hearts. To be afraid of such a thing is no slight against you. However, if they know nothing of fear… then they know nothing of courage. They know nothing of faith. They know nothing of the strength that is given wings when something we dread knocks on our door and must be faced! And face it we shall. A day may come when the land of On’Eman crumbles around us as we lay defeated on the ground. But today is not that day. A day may come when our courage fails us, when our shields lay shattered and our swords broken on the ground! But today is not that day! A day may come when our greatest magic and strongest steel collapse in our hands, and the land around us is torn asunder before our very eyes, but TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY! TODAY IS THE DAY WE FIGHT!!!”
	All at once the cries of swords, spears, arrows, axes and staves began to ripple across the ranks as the men and women who had risen to defend their homes began to shout and scream at the invaders. Oaths of defiance and curses afoul flew from their mouths and joined a chorus of ever increasing voices that carried across the field and seemed to force the enemy back by sound alone!
	As if responding to a provocation, the horde of darkness began to join their unearthly voices, producing that low, dreadful scream in unison. It began at a low octave, just high enough that it could not be mistaken for a tremor of the ground. Then it began to rise, growing higher in pitch as it grew louder and louder, the sound burrowing into the ears of the men and women who had gathered to fight them, louder and louder as it pierced their psyches and threatened to drive each and every one of them mad with terror!
	And then, a new sound began to rise in opposition to it. Like the alien scream, it started low. It was the sound of metal scraping across metal at an achingly slow pace. And to everyone assembled there, to those who had known the art of battle all their lives, it was unmistakable; it was the sound of a sword being pulled from its sheath. And it was growing louder by the second. Every single one of them set their eyes to searching for the source of the noise. And one by one, they all tracked it to the man standing in midair at the front of their formation as he released his longsword from its house, the sound being amplified by his mastery over the air. Dan’s weapon gleamed in the sun as he finished drawing it with a flourish, the sound resounding across the field and driving the horde’s scream to silence as he pointed the weapon directly at them.
	“Semper Victis!”
	And then, the inevitable; one man took a step forward. Nobody could see who he was or where he stepped from, but the very moment his footstep thundered out it was louder than anything else. That step was followed by a second. Then a third. And by then, the rest of the army had begun to move. One soldier’s movement translated into a rippling wave that carried every other fighter into its wake as the great host of On’Eman surged into motion, sprinting across the field toward the beings that wished for their demise!
	The invaders, startled at first, soon began to compose themselves. With another roar, the front line of creatures leaped forward as the legion of blackness soon followed. With their animalistic attributes, they would be upon the defenders in no time. But then, that had been part of the plan.
	“Here they come!”
	With a single stomp, Rastia sent a small shockwave spreading throughout the ridge. That one stomp carried a single order to every mage, marksman, and archer in the land;
	Light ‘em up!
	The ranged divisions responded with a will as arrows were knocked, rounds were chambered, and chants were whispered. Then, as one, a hailstorm of arrows, bolts, bullets and slugs flew alongside a sea of fire, ice, lightning, shadows, light, and pure arcane energy. The oncoming horde had all of three seconds’ warning before the ranged assault slammed into their ranks. Some shots struck true, decimating their targets instantly. Others clipped the enemy, and some missed entirely. But the advance was slowed for a brief period, and that was more than enough time for the frontline fighters to slam into them at full force! The invaders, stymied by the initial burst, were forced onto their back foot as the battalions struck them head-on. The sound of wood and steel striking, being struck, and breaking filled the air, but none of it quite as loud as the screams. The primal battle roars of men, the harpy-like shrieks of women, and the beastial cries of wounded monsters resounded through the sky as the two armies met one another. Iron ground against chintin as both blade and claw found their marks. In that moment, nobody could ever say how much blood had been spilled. But when it was over, the advance of the eldritch creatures had been halted. And the defenders kept going. They carved their way through a second rank, and then a third, and then a fourth, all without ceasing as more artillery fire bombarded the back lines from afar. But by that point, they began to feel the pressure of inferior numbers. They had won the initial clash, but the enemy was so multifarious that they could not help but slow and turn to their defenses, or risk being overrun. And once the beasts were freed from being assailed, they openly turned their aggression toward their opponents. Valiant as they were, On’Eman’s protectors could only hold for so long, and bit by bit they began to give ground back as more and more of them fell, many wounded and some dead. 
	But this was not the end of the line. Not so long as the land’s denizens possessed their hidden aces. They were three in number, and one of them was about to be deployed.
	“MAESTRO!” Sangre cried behind her, turning to the hooded man standing between her and the gathered healers. He bowed to her quickly, to indicate her plea had been heard, and then turned around with hands held just above his shoulders. 
	With a wave of both appendages upwards, he began to move them as one in a set of very rigid motions to a particular beat and tempo that would easily be recognized as a conductor’s motions before a symphony. And so a symphony began as Ayame’s Choir took up the Maestro’s tune. Their voices soon joined the audible array surrounding the battlefield, an immaculate chorus that echoed across the hills and plains as it grew it tempo and volume. A light green ether the color of fresh grass began to snake from the Choir and float out over the battle, and at a rapid series of motions from the Maestro the singers began to separate from their solo melody into several unique songs. In turn, the ether trail branched into multiple streams that began to dart through the On’Eman ranks, seeking any who were injured. When it found them, the stream swam through their bodies and beneath the faint glow of the song’s spirit their wounds, however severe, began to heal and become undone. In little time at all, every soldier who had been presumed dispatched was back in the fight, and in one miraculous case a swordswoman was raked across the shoulder and began to be knocked aside, only to have a nearby stream reach her and heal the wound with enough time for her to regain her footing, turn her weapon, and lash back at the monster that had struck her with deadly force. It certainly seemed she was the grand metaphor for the On’Eman armies; numbers didn’t matter anymore if the Choir could resurrect anybody who wasn’t dead back to fighting strength, and for every blow they had taken before the song began they gave three back, driving the invaders even further toward the gate. Things were going well; but then, they always are before the enemy reveals their own ace in the hole.
	A great snort captured the attention of all as one of the massive armored horse beasts began to lift its hoof. It struck at the ground in front of it, the classic indicator of an incoming charge, then coiled its legs and jumped, shooting hundreds of feet into the air. The breathtaking power of the leap tore eyesights across the field, and very few managed to break away from it to see what was happening.
	“GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!”
	Dan screamed across the field to the soldiers that sat in the horse’s shadow. Those that heard him turned to flee, but it was far too late. The behemoth came crashing back to earth with a massive shockwave that knocked those nearby off their feet and sent them reeling. The Choir’s song immediately darted to the impact area, but once there the ether streams passed over it, unable to find any survivors to heal. Every single person who had taken a direct hit from the attack had been decimated. The sight was enough to make most of the army sick. How could they win, if they had to face such enormous power? And as the horse turned toward them, what was left of their moral began to crack and threaten to shatter instantaneously. 
	That was when the second ace went into play.
	Another shockwave, this one easily rivaling the strike produced by the mammoth horse, erupted on the battlefield. But this one came from behind the horse, in the midst of the ranks of invaders that threatened to swarm through the gap created by their siege engine. Like the one before it, the impact left no room for survivors as it tore the very earth beneath it to pieces. And standing in the middle of the crater, katana gleaming in the sun, was L Rastia, who had brought the force of the earth itself to bear against his enemies.
	“Don’t forget,” he declared with a slight smirk, “We’ve got some monsters of our own!”
	A rumbling quake followed as he dashed into battle with the siege horse, which had turned to face him as if it had been challenged. At the same time, however, its two brothers also reared their heads and began to move. The one on the far side from Rastia’s target began to run, covering hundreds of yards with each step, as it circled to the side and attempted to take the army’s flank! It was stopped, however, by a veritable forest of vines that suddenly erupted from the ground to bind it and stop its movements. After some struggling it broke free, but its momentum was robbed and its flanking attacking ground to a halt. A faint light began to glow in the fields in middle of its vision, and from that light emerged a massive rose that soon unfurled to reveal Sangre herself, stepping forward to engage the monstrous equestrian. And wearing a cowboy hat that had come into existence from out of nowhere.
	“Now, now, what happened to your manners? If you wanted to try out for the rodeo, ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS ASK!”
	A flash of red was all that was seen as she rushed toward her opponent, her raw speed tearing the rose that had carried her apart. At the same time, however, the third horse had already left the ground and was soaring through the air, this time on a collision course with the principle battalion of the army! Those that were paying attention, however, would have felt the wind abruptly alter course and greatly increase in speed as all of it began to flow to one source; the longsword that Dan was gripping with both hands! His eyes blazed gold as he looked above him at the leaping monolithic animal as the air worked itself into a frenzy around the blade of his weapon.
	“Didn’t anybody tell you? THESE SKIES ARE MINE!”
In an instant he was rocketing upwards to meet the creature in midair, and when he did there came a great crashing sound as his sword swung forward and unleashed every bit of the slicing winds he had built up. The result was a colossal tear across the sky, highlighted by a swarm of spinning slashes. When it was done, nothing remained of the creature but a large cloud of ash raining on the field. At the same time, the second animal was sent tumbling down into a deep chasm that had been forced open in the ground that Rastia swiftly closed once again, and the third’s life was slowly but steadily strangled out of it by a set of massive horned roots that Sangre had called from the ground. As Dan landed on the ground from his lofty height, he and the other two Generals readied their weapons anew and turned their attention to the remaining host.
	“Mind if we cut in?”
	The triumph of their leaders and their entrance into the fray renewed the moral of the troops, and then bolstered it further. With the swords of Dan and Rastia leading the charge alongside Sangre’s horticultural arsenal, they began to cut whole swaths through the enemy ranks, driving the invaders further and further back. And yet, for all their seeming success, the three of them did not appear pleased. Rather, they looked worried as they glanced between themselves; they knew something was coming, but nobody could say what. 
	It was the sound of the chain that gave it away. A great clanking, clattering noise that sounded across the plains drew everybody, especially the three Generals, to look on the Great Gate. It was thought to have been forced shut by the invaders, but now it was opening. At an order from Rastia the army fell back to a defensive position; was it reinforcements coming to their aid? Their question was soon answered as the Gate fully opened and a river of blackness spewed out from it in a great wave. From the surge of black erupted a new myriad of dark shapes, this time much larger than the foot soldiers they had been fighting! As these new monsters lunged into the fray, the army was soon hard pressed to hold their line. The Choir took up their song once more, but no sooner had they done so than a swarm of airborne darklings appeared and flew directly toward their location! A combined effort of Dan and the Ranged Divisions grounded most of them, but the few who got through wreaked havoc upon the healers and their harmony, disjointing the song tremendously. Everyone gathered there realized the grim reality at once; the initial army had been the bait to lure them closer to the gate so they could not react to these reinforcements in time. The Rangers managed to rid the Choir of the last of the flying beasts, but no sooner had they done so than a new flock took their place from the portal.  Hope was quickly waning for On’Eman.
	And then, one last sound echoed out from the depths of despair. A great trumpeting blared out from the ranks, and the instrument was quickly shone to be glowing golden in the Western Warden’s hands! At first, nothing happened. Who had he attempted to call? Would they respond? And even if they did, could anything truly help them in such a dark hour? The answer came in the form of a great shaft of light that cut through the clouds above with a blinding brilliance. As the inbound squadrons of flying monsters went through it they turned to ash one by one. As the shaft of light faded, their antagonists were revealed; a battalion of men and women garbed in shining armor and cloth floated on the air, the great white wings sprouting from their backs holding them aloft. Their eyes were concealed by their visors, and only their mouths set in iron lines could be seen. They and their weapons glowed with a florescent light, and even to the most atheistic soldier there was but one thing that they could be called.
	“Angels…” one man dared to breathe.
	After blowing the trumpet, Dan had crumpled to one knee, his breath short and ragged. As he steadied himself, he opened his eyes again, and they glowed a deeper gold than Remy had ever seen them before. When he spoke it was but a whisper, yet it was heard by all.
	“Keep them at bay.”
	With a brief salute, the angel that seemed to be the lead raised his spear and pointed forward, spurring the heavenly battalion forward to do battle with the monstrosities that plagued the land. Their weapons pierced the creatures as light pierces darkness, and soon the army was back on its feet and, assisted by the angelic reinforcements, holding their ground against the invaders once again. In the midst of it, Dan turned to see Sangre’s hand reaching down to help him up.
	“We don’t have much time,” he said as he took it and stood up again, “I’ve burned a lot of my power already, the Legion can’t sustain themselves for long. We have to finish this. NOW.”
	“Any suggestions for how we do that?”
	“The Gate. They’re using their main host beyond it as a reservoir right now. If we close the gate over it, the backlash will damage their forces on the other side past repair and leave everything left over here weakened.”
	“I presume you know how to close it?”
	“But of course.”
	“Good. Rastia, marshall what we have left and hold them here. Amelia, you and are I going to break for the Gate. Ready?”
	“Anytime.”
	“When you are.”
	“Good.”
	With a deep intake of breath, the golden trumpet reappeared in Dan’s hands as he raised it to his lips. A quick note followed, and two of the angels appeared by their side.
	“Cut us a path!”
	With twin nods the angels took up their swords and surged forward, killing and knocking aside any dark beast that impeded them. Sangre and Dan dashed behind them, pausing every so often to strike at an enemy themselves. As Rastia called the army to task behind them, they pushed onward. Finally, they came in sight of the chain that currently held the Gate open. A pair of hulking shades stood guard near it, but with two swift strikes from Dan’s sword they were laid in two. Sangre stepped forward then, brandishing her vine whip. With a single deft motion, thorns met the steel of the chain and severed it, sending the Great Gate clattering down. Just as it reached the halfway point, however, it slowed and then stopped. With looks of horror on their faces, the Warden and the goddess both looked to the Gate and saw a shadow that, though it was smaller than the horses had been, made them pale in comparison by the power emanating from it. Perhaps what made it all the more terrifying was that, unlike the other shades, this one appeared to be almost humanlike, albeit many times the size of an ordinary man.
	“Ha ha ha. Is this it? Is this all that the land of On’Eman was able to muster? How pathetic.”
	Both of them were taken aback at that. Not only was this being clearly more powerful than his brethren, he was able to speak! As he loomed before them, both Dan and Sangre stood with weapons ready, but neither was considering striking for the time.
	“I truly did select an opportune time to strike. If there had been four Wardens, this may have proved more troublesome. Or perhaps not; after all, the Warden of Water was rather pathetic…”
	The slant against Remy’s past self lit a burning fury inside of Dan, and the air around him grew agitated to reflect it.
	“I would mind my tongue if I were you…”
	“Oh, struck a nerve, have I? Does having her weakness revealed anger you, Warden of Air? Perhaps you’d like to challenge me?”
	“Why you-!”
	“Hold.”
	A vine stretched out in front of him to stop Dan from moving in to attack.
	“Don’t let him bait you. He can’t hold the Gate open forever, it has mechanisms to prevent that. We just have to let them kick in and continue to hold out.”
	“Ah, of course. The coward’s route. I’m certain SHE would approve, had she not thrown herself into a volcano to be rid of you all!”
	That tore it. All at once the winds began to rage, and with a great burst Dan had hurled himself through the air, sword at the ready, on a collision course with the giant.
	“YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!!!!!”
	He bellowed as he crashed into the man. The impact had been intended to hurt him, to drive him back. And it did, but from the wider perspective it seemed the giant, rather than being forced to relinquish his hold on the Gate, had simply… let go. And a as result, Dan’s blow had carried the both of them to the other side of the Gate, into the oblivion that was beyond, while the Gate resumed its grinding close!
	“My my, that actually hurt. I wonder, does your power increase with your rage? Let’s see!”
	Before Dan could mount another offense, however, a great vine lashed through the portal, wrapped around his waist and bodily pulled him backwards and under the closing Gate. As he passed, however, he watched as Sangre rushed forward to take his place on the other side of the portal. Time slowed to a crawl as they passed one another. His hand shot out, trying in vain to stop her. Her head simply turned backwards, saying but one sentence as the Gate grew ever closer above;
	“Keep an eye on the big picture. This is my part to play in it.”
	As he landed on his rear end back in On’Eman, he heard but one last thing before the Gate slammed shut completely;
	“NO! YOU’LL RUIN EVERYTHING, WENCH!”
	“Of course I will. THROWING WRENCHES IN SHIT IS WHAT I DO!”
	And with a great, calamitous crash, the Gate slammed shut.
	
	The rush of air brought on by the closing of the Great Gate coincided with the rapid return of the dreamfog. Not long after, however, it cleared again to reveal Dan and Rastia, both of them battered and bruised from the battle, conferring in a room they all knew well; it was the highest room in the Great Tower, the meeting place of the Wardens. Rastia’s hands were steepled, his eyes deep in concentration. 
	“So. That is what happened.”
	“As much as I can remember.”
	“Amelia is gone then.”
	“Not yet she isn’t.”	
	“What makes you so certain?”
	“Rastia, it hasn’t even been an hour! If we do it fast, we can still get behind that Gate and save her, but we need to move NOW!”
	“I don’t think so.”
	“WHAT?!”
	“Consider it, Dan. Our forces are beaten and battered, the Angelic Legion cannot be called again for a month, and we’re filled with injured as it is. We are in no shape to confront those monsters in their territory. Besides which…”
	“Besides WHAT? They were weakened by the backlash, we can still-”
	“No. We can’t. Not with only one Warden.”
	“Where the hell did you learn to count? There’s two of us.”
	“You are correct. But henceforth, only one of us is a Warden.”
	“What the hell are you talking about?”
	“Simple. A Warden who slays a goddess has no right to his title, wouldn’t you agree?”
	“Slays a god- SANGRE ISN’T DEAD!”
	“How can she not be? Part of her power was being funneled to this side. That means the backlash would have damaged her as well. If she didn’t die immediately, she was devoured by the horde before her.”
	Out of the blue, the desk between then was neatly divided in half as Rastia’s katana came to rest under Dan’s chin in a quickdraw he hadn’t seen.
	“And it’s because of you.”
	Another flash of steel came as the katana was sent toward Dan’s neck, but a quick roll backwards spared him the edge. He rose with his longsword in hand and his legs in his combat stance.
	“Don’t try this shit Rastia. I’m your equal in swordsmanship, and we have better things to do than-”
	“Be silent, traitor. For the crime of causing the death of the goddess Sangre de la Rosa, I hereby sentence you to the relinquishing of your Elemental Aspect, followed by your death!”
	Three more flashes  of the katana followed as Rastia lunged at him in cold blood, each one parried just in time by the longsword. The third strike, however, resulted in something unexpected; as Rastia’s blade made contact just above Dan’s guard, the katana began to slash through the longsword, tearing its blade to pieces as it flew out of Dan’s hands. He was forced to drop the hilt as one of the shards pierced his hand, and he doubled over against the tower wall as Rastia closed in.
	“You see? Even your Rose Sword betrays you. You once told me that so long as Sangre’s power held, it would remain sharp and strong; what does this tell you?”
	“It tells me that you are a fool!” He yelled as his bleeding hand went to his chest to catch his breath, “Why won’t you listen to me?! I thought we could trust one another, Rastia!”
	“Yes. I used to as well.”
	The katana rose into the air for a finishing blow, but as it came down it was met with a purple hued glare of light that erupted from Dan’s chest, beneath his hand. The glow began to slowly intensify, growing until it swallowed him whole. Remy’s vision would be consumed by the light, but it was doubtful she would fail to recognize her own magic at work…
	
	When the light faded, Dan found himself in an entirely different place. It was outdoors, and there was a multitude of people milling about. Stalls of many shapes, sizes, and colors had been erected around them, and the whole spectacle resembled the Grand Marketplace of On’Eman from the days of old. A look at himself told him his wounds had been healed, and in his hand was the hourglass pendant, still with a drop of his blood atop it.
	“Time travel? Then is this… no, it can’t be. Remy always said that travelling to the past takes so much magical energy that even at the peak of her power she couldn’t manage more than a few seconds. But then that means that this is… Ga’Heer?”
	The more he looked, the more it seemed to confirm his suspicions. But how far forward had he been flung? He had to find out. To do that, he set out to find a newsstand. It didn’t take him long to locate one, and once there he purchased a newspaper. A glance at the date told him he had jumped exactly one year into the future. Before he could think on why he had been flung to Ga’Heer instead of On’Eman, however, his eyes fell on the headline story for the day.
	“On’Eman Mourns as Final Confirmation is Found”
	What followed was an article detailing the grand reopening of the Great Gate and how the realm had expected a celebration, but instead turned to sorrow as they discovered a group of rose petals, wilted and dead, floating just on the other side. 
	“Although theories have abounded on the fate of the goddess Sangre de la Rosa since the Battle of the Gate, many scholars say that the discovery of these petals where she was last seen confirms that the goddess did indeed perish in the battle. World Warden L Rastia has issued an official statement, detailing the results of the investigation. Furthermore, he says that former Warden Dan Halen is the cause of the goddess’ death, and has issued a warrant for his capture, dead or alive.”
	Reading it made him feel sick to his stomach. Quickly and quietly he excused himself off to the side, where he promptly vomited into a trash can.
	My God, his thoughts echoed, as if to complete the memory for Remy, She’s dead. Ami’s dead. And I… I was the one who… If I hadn’t… oh God…
	“I… I killed her…”
	“Damn right you did.”
	The voice behind him gave Dan cause to whip around and barely duck out of the way of a knife attack that had been aimed directly at his throat! The assailant was clothed in a dark purple hood that concealed his features, but the look of malice in his eyes could not be denied.
	“Who the hell are you?!”
	“Just a former On’Eman soldier about to become a hero. Now DIE!”
	The masked man lunged at him again. Dan dodged away again as his hand shot toward his belt… only to find that he was unarmed. His sword was broken before he warped, and he carried no other weaponry. With a snarl, he readied his bare hands for a fight as the man came at him again. This time, instead of dodging, Dan called upon the wind to create an updraft that launched the man up and over him, and when he had landed on his back Dan turned and elbowed him in the stomach with all of his weight behind it. The blow knocked the man unconscious, and Dan wasted no time in getting out of the vicinity.
	After walking aimlessly in one direction, he came to the conclusion that he was sorely in need of a weapon with which to defend himself. To that end, he sought out and located a particular store that he knew all too well; The Wandering Rogue, the adventuring shop that his longtime friend and ally Steven had invested in many years before. The Wandering Rogue was far and wide considered THE place to shop for novices and veterans alike in the practice of field work, and one of its specialties was the large selection of tools and weapons sold there. The Ga’Heer branch was fairly new, but perhaps it would have something that appealed to him. After he was inside, he began to quietly look through the glass cases that housed the Finely Crafted items. Swords, he decided, would make him far too obvious to would-be assassins. Lances would be too bulky for carrying around, and bows were little use in a heads-up fight. That left him one option; firearms. Though he always claimed to have a dislike for the impersonality of the things, there were times when being impersonal was required. Such as being a marked man, for instance. Plus, he actually wasn’t a bad shot.
	As he busied himself looking at the firearms, one of them caught his eye. It was a classic, high-caliber revolver with a polished rosewood handle. Revolvers always reminded him of the High Noon duels in old western movies, which were honestly as close to his preferred method of combat as pistols could get. Not only that, but this revolver in particular spoke to him, plain and simple. Something about it called out to him, a familiarity. Just as he was about to look at the price tag, a hand clapped him on the shoulder. He turned and saw Steven “Rogue” Lundin himself standing there, smiling at him in his typical roguish style.
	“Well I’ll be damned, I wasn’t expecting to bump into you today!”
	“Nor I, you. How have you been you old bastard?”
	“Can’t complain. Business is a-booming, as you can surely tell.”
	“No shit, this place is packed.”
	“So what brings you to my humble shop way out here then?”
	“I actually need a new weapon. My old one… I’d rather not discuss it.”
	“Oh yes, I heard all about it. Dreadful times these are, and even more terrible accusations being leveled at you. I shudder to think of going without a weapon on hand. Anything you had your eyes on?”
	“I was actually thinking about taking that revolver there off your hands.”
	“Oh, a fine choice! Come with me into the back, I’ll get you squared away. I might even be able to give you a discount. Come on, come on!”
	Relieved that his old friend was still just that, Dan took the revolver and followed the proprietor into the back room. As he began to fill out all the necessary paperwork for registration of a weapon, Rogue went opposite him to run up the price. Then the man spoke, and something odd snuck into his voice.
	“You know, I never thought Sangre would die on us. Not like that anyway.”
	Dan paused for a moment. If anybody had known the goddess more than he, it was Steven. The fact that he had called her Sangre rather than Amelia when they were in such private company was unnerving. But perhaps he was overthinking it?
	“How do they say she went out?”
	“They’re saying you tricked her and manipulated her into a death trap. A plausible idea, but I don’t believe it.”
	That was strike two. Rogue was many things, one of which was candid; if he thought something, he made it known beyond doubt. And one of the things he figured was that Amelia could outwit all of them any day of the week, while hung over. His thinking that Rastia’s story of a manipulation on Dan’s part over her as plausible was out of the ordinary entirely.
	“Do you think anything could have been done to save her?”
	“I truthfully have no idea. I was too busy running my shop to think about that battle.”
	Strike three. Steven was a businessman, but he was still an adventurer and a fighter at heart- he would never forgo a battle for the fate of his home to mind a shop. Without any hesitation, Dan turned and leveled the revolver at the man’s head right as he turned around. Finding a gun barrel pointed at his eyes startled him, and he soon stumbled backwards. 
	“You’re not Rogue.”
	“Hmm. Interesting deduction. AND QUITE CORRECT!”
	Suddenly, the man pretending to be Rogue was wiping away his disguise as he made for Dan’s throat with hands that grew claws. Without pausing to think, Dan kicked himself backwards to the floor and began to pull the trigger!
	BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!
	Five shots lanced through his intended killer, who stopped dead in his tracks as he began to keel over, shock coming to his face.
	“What… but… it wasn’t… loaded…”
	As he fell to the ground, truly dead, Dan stopped and forced himself to recover from the shock. He looked in the chambers of the revolver, and saw that the assassin was correct; there was nothing in them, save for a rolled up bit of paper. Curiously, he pulled it out and read, in a fair script, “Remember the bigger picture.” The memory of Amelia’s last words came back to him, and he realized with a start that she must have had some hand in the revolver’s existence. But how could that be, if she were truly dead? And how had he fired without bullets? Unfortunately, he lacked the time to answer either; the gunshots would attract attention, and with two attempts on his life in the span of 20 minutes, he couldn’t risk drawing more attention. Stowing the revolver in his suit jacket, he turned to the hourglass pendant. Perhaps, if it worked once… There was only one way to find out. With a nibble on his finger, he pressed a tiny droplet of blood onto the pendant, and willed both a length of time and a destination into it. Another flash of purple ensued, and the mists covered Remy’s dreaming vision once more.
	
	When they cleared again, she was watching Dan come bursting through a door, slamming it shut behind him, and bracing it with his back. But he did not resemble the man she knew barely at all. His eyes were bloodshot and covered in bags that belied a complete dearth of sleep. His suit, normally pristine even in the heat of battle, was torn, frayed, and ripped in several places. His breath was heavy, as if he’d just run a marathon, and his left arm was covered in blood while his right arm held his revolver in a death grip. A far cry from the strong, unyielding man she was accustomed to, this Dan looked like he was nearing his breaking point. And it was heartrending to see. 
	“Damnation,” he said in between breaths, “That’s the third round TODAY. First Mors, then, Chizzy, and now-”
	 A beastial roar erupted in the distance behind the door, one that resembled a bear’s enraged bellow as it prepared to charge.
	“And now, it’s Johnny.”
	He gritted his teeth and rolled forward just as a large, clawed hand covered in brown fur came crashing through the wall. Just as he began to return fire, however, the dream faded out of focus. The blurs of motion bounded across her vision, but through the whole event she could make out nothing. It was as though the subject matter was one Dan himself did not wish her to see. The focus returned, however, to show him bracing against the nearby sink, catching his breath, with no clawed menace in sight. 
	“It doesn’t make any sense. How can they be tracking me this well, even through the jumps?”
	He raised his head to look at his reflection in the nearly destroyed mirror. His face initially showed an expression of disgust at his appearance… but then it faded into a startled realization. Something had caught his eye; particularly, his eyes themselves as they glowed with their golden color.
	“The Air Mantle… that’s it. They have to be using that to pinpoint my location, even through time…”
	His head bowed again, accompanied by a sigh of exhaustion. His feelings were plain to see on his face; he was tired of running, tired of being hunted, tired of not being able to trust anybody. He was sick of fighting for his life, and he would give anything to make it cease… but for his guilt. Inside his heart, he still blamed himself for Sangre’s death. And because of that, some hidden piece of him believed that he was getting what he deserved. He dropped to his knees at the sink, his head barely still reaching the bottom of the mirror as he knelt. He buried his head in his arm, and in the silence of the room only his pained breathing could be heard. Finally, he spoke again, with only two little words. Two sorrow-ridden, mournful words that carried so much weight despite their small length. Two words that would alter his life in ways he did not yet realize.
	“No more.”
	As if he had recited an incantation, a faint emerald light began to glow around his body. It flared for but a moment at its peak, and then it was gone. All at once, the air around him seemed to howl with equal parts ecstasy and malice for but a moment, and then was silent. And when he lifted his head again, his eyes no longer glowed gold; they were now black as ash, with neither life nor light to dance in them. The meaning would be clear to Remy as she watched; he had willingly sealed away his command over the wind, never to be woken again until her dire hour within the floating library. Another light followed, this one the same purple light as before, but vastly more intense. It engulfed him faster, and lingered as a great sphere around him. The fog began to roll in again, and only his voice could be heard over the mist;
	“One thousand years. That should be plenty.”
	
	Suddenly, Remy found herself lying awake in the bed. When she looked for her beloved, she found him still clutching her close to his chest, the ever faithful protector. And yet, something was different. She tried to extend her senses to the utmost, to discover what it was. She found the answer on her left wrist; there, sparkling in the moonlight, was a beautiful bracelet inlaid with sapphires. The same bracelet, she realized, he had shown to Sangre in the memories she had witnessed. But when had he put it on her? She had never seen it prior to the dream… But then she smiled as she realized what had happened. In a midnight waking, he had crept from the bed, ever so carefully so as to not disturb her, had somehow rediscovered the bracelet, and had clasped it on her without her realizing. Perhaps he was aware of what she had seen? Or was he prompted by fate to do such a thing? Whatever the reason, even though no words were exchanged, the combination of the gift and the way he still held her in his embrace spoke very clearly of his thoughts toward her. And now, whether he realized it or not, she was aware of all his trials in the interim between their parting and reuniting. Perhaps, in time, he would be able to come to grips with his past and move beyond it. But for now… for now, she was content with his presence by her side. And with those thoughts pervading her mind, she dozed off once more, her now jewelry-adorned arm gently draping across his torso in a mirror of his cradle onto her. And thus entwined, no foul nighttime apparitions would dare disturb them.
[/hider]

Chapter 5: Once Upon a Dream
[hider]
-
	With closed eyes of luminous emeralds, she listened as the world ticked by while in the confines of the Quartermaster's hold. The day had passed with commendable leisure, no pirates or imperialists shooting at them or trying to capture them. It were almost as if the Goddess had decided that in the Magi's joy, she would grant them a small reprieve. Here, with a softened smile that seemed unable to leave her features, Remy's fingertips settled upon the hardcover book that lay upon her lap.
	There was a cause for her happiness, and it was the hunter whose work was just down the hall. Thinking of him instinctively brought her hand up to where a ruby had once been, and realizing it was still absent meant that all that had happened was not just some wondrous dream.
	What a dream it would have been! If it were such, anyway. However, the realization that what had transpired truly did brought a sense of weakness in her stomach and euphoria in her heart. She had really done it! Never once did she think or dare to hope that she'd have the chance of seeing him again; let alone the opportunity to be so close.
	In one single night, he had set her heart spinning completely out of control. Rendering the Magi known for her poise and regal posture almost helpless the moment she thought of him. Sometimes to the inquisitive curiosity of Kaal, she would laugh for seemingly no reason! She even counted down the minutes until she'd get to stealthily sneak off into the night and into his bedroom.
	It was only fair. He had slept in her quarters a fair number of moments now, it was due time that he'd share as well.
	Looking up woefully at the clock and even glaring at it for how slowly it trudged along, the Elven girl let a long sigh escape her. It was morally wrong to accelerate time for a short period for selfish wants and needs, and as tempted as she was, she knew she shouldn't. 
	She had an ominous feeling that Ami might appear from nowhere to smack her down a notch if she attempted to do such.
	Shaking her head out of the thought, her fingertips ran gently through the tresses of golden braid she had tied her hair into. Her heart softened at such a thought as well, and how she'd do almost anything to have a moment and some tea with an old friend. Lingering on such a thought for a brief second, she also strayed away from it and lazily rested her chin upon a palm and watched the clock tick by.
	Instead, the idleness of her mind brought up a curious thought. A new string of memories for her to see. The memory by which she had met the man she loved.
	They had met on a wintry day in the midst of December.
	With a vision she knew all too well, the Magi's mind took upon a scene beneath the prickly earth beneath an evergreen tree. Here, she stood quietly and waited. Leaning lazily against the tree trunk as in the stillness and silence of the tranquil wood, she heard something. Frantic breadth and panicked footsteps announced the presence of company rushing towards her, and the glowering of lamps and torches growing quickly gave way to the idea that there was a large group.
	Past her eyes darted a light footed girl wearing a crimson hood. Following her however, was a horde of farmers and peasants. Bearing torches, pitchforks and all sorts of improvised weaponry, their outrage towards the girl echoed clearly in the forest for all to hear. 
	"The last two seasons' crops have been RUINED because of the Frost Witch! BURN HER AND HER WITCHCRAFT TO THE GROUND IN THE NAME OF SANGRE." A defiant roar echoed through the woods in response, and the lynch mob picked up speed. It did not matter how fast the girl ran; for what she had in speed, the fervor of the mob gave them endurance.
	Breathlessly, the girl dove behind a tree and the girl watched on as the crowd ran past. It took one, and only one of them to not fall for her attempt to fail. Here in this moment, Remy scowled as her memory began to take a turn for the worse.
	One villager did not fall for the girl's ruse, and with a warning cry before she could silence him, the mob had turned. Circling around the terrified girl as she cowered against her tree, they began to close in with their instruments of mayhem and murder.
	That was until there was a rush of wind and a flash of fire. Suddenly before the lynch mob there stood two figures between them and their intended target. One was a younger man with a crackling heat about him, and the other was a tall man with a sword on his hip. Silence followed at first until one villager muttered a name beneath his breadth.
	"Ragtag Princes..." He spoke as if the name were cursed, and the girl pressed herself even more against the tree, as if she were trying to meld into it. Gritted teeth could be seen beneath the edge of her hood as the fear of being burned to death was very much still there. "What do you want?!" One of them demanded of the two.
	"Shut up." The fiery one said with an arrogant grin that seemed far too diabolical for his young face. "We're here for the girl. Scatter or I'll burn your village as badly as she killed your crops." Initially with their superior numbers, the villagers protested until the was a breadth of wind. One moment, the man with the sword was standing in front of them. In the next, he was behind them. In the blink of an eye after, his sword had been drawn. Before the stunned villagers, their weapons and torches, even their lamps fell to pieces before them scattered across the snow.
	In an absolute horror, the villagers fled into the woods and left the three standing there. A long and miserable quiet followed until the fiery one turned to the girl and lent a sideways glance to the swordsman.
	"At least she's pretty, eh, Dan? You want to have a go at her?" He spoke in a crass tone, with that arrogant grin never ceasing.
	The scowl that had grown across the girl's lips furrowed further in the displeasure of the situation at hand. First, she had been pursued by a lynch mob, and now this? With a nonchalant stance and a shark's grin, the fiery one drew closer and this time she wasn't going to stand for it. With a sudden resonating hum in the air, spires of ice shot up towards Warden of Flame, and the swordsman reacted just as quickly as his friend fell back while bracing his forehead.
	Suddenly, the girl found herself held quite still at the pointed tip of a sword.
	With eyes widened in fear, she quickly came to realize that he had moved faster than her eyes could trace. Taking a trembling step back, the subtle cursing the Flame Warden partook in while he nursed a deep cut in his forehead was the only sound that occurred for a series of seconds. Yet finally, his demeanor finally changed in a way that no longer drew her ire. 
	"Perhaps I went about this wrongly." He muttered through the still air, releasing his grasp from his forehead while embers fell like glowering snowflakes from the wound. "Name's Elijah, and the fellow with a blade to your neck is Dan; we're the wardens of Air and Fire, got that?" She softly nodded and that leering grin of his rose up once more. Swallowing hard as he drew closer again, she tried to back away only to find her spine against the hardened bark of a tree. Not only this, but the swordsmanship edge had smoothly followed her with relentless precision. 
	His hand shot upward then, the vicious heat of his touch contending stubbornly with her cold while he took a rough grasp of her slender chin. With a deft pull then, the crimson hood fell away and luminous blonde locks cascaded to reveal a girl of highborne lineage. Even with his domineering stance, a pair of defiantly shining set of emerald eyes were what met them both.
	"What do you want?" She demanded, the scowl she bore never ceasing while her eyes betrayed a slight sense of fear within. "To finish what those villages started?"
	At first the fiery one seemed taken aback, until his composure broke into fickle laughter. "No no dear girl, that is quite the opposite from what we came here for." He stated matter-of-factly once his laughter had ceased. "Dan and I are here to help you, actually. Isn't that right Dan?" He continued, glancing over to the swordsman who still resiliently held the blade close to her neck. 
	Distrustful eyes met that of Dan's, yet they would soften minutely with the silent nod that was his response. She had nothing here, if she acted aggressively or tried to counterattack, she was sure that the blade bearer would not hesitate. So, her gaze darted back to the fiery one. 
	"Help me? With what?" Her fists unclenched then, and her body relaxed. With such, the blade fell away and was sharply sheathed at the swordsman's hip. It was more than obvious that the girl was no longer a threat.
	"It is simple, we're here to harness you in as our new Warden of water. But first, we need your name to confirm that you're the one Sangre sent us to get." The swordsman spoke at long last, finally breaking his silence with an air of strict discipline and professionalism behind his tone.
	"Remy. My name is Remy Antoinette Charlevoix."
	Even from a distance, she could feel the swordsman's zealously critical gaze. With nothing more than marked suspicion, yet he did not move in the least as Elijah stood and stared at her with a leering grin. Hesitantly, her fingertips returned to the collar of her garments and with a deft flick, the hood had returned to where it belonged. 
	If anything, the sheer presence of the two in front of her was intimidating enough. It were almost torturous to be stared down by both of them. 
	"Well," the fiery one broke the awkward silence and she could hear the sound of snow being crushed underfoot as he stepped closer. Instinctively, the girl would back away until the slender texture of her spine was against the tree once again. This time however, there was no aggressive movement; instead, there were simply some more words. "Let me be the first to welcome you into the Ragtag Princes then. But we have to get going, Sangre is going to be delighted that we found you." 
	Turning and taking the lead, Remy paused at first as the Flame strode casually away. Looking over behind her first, she saw the swordsman patiently lying in wait for her to follow the other. Slumping her shoulders akin to a captured bird, she quietly walked in line with the two with Elijah in front of her and Dan behind her as the Flame guided the way out of the forest. 
	Though her curiosity still needed to be answered in some degree.
	"Warden of Water? What am I getting myself into?"
	"There are four Wardens." Dan began to state behind her, causing the blonde girl to jaunt her head just slightly to look at him as he spoke. "Chosen by Sangre and the power of ancient crystals, there are four. Elijah, Rastia, me, and now finally you. Did you not ever notice how adept you are with the element of water?" Biting her lip, the Magi slowly shook her head in response before turning her gaze back towards the front.
	"No, I always thought that I only worked with ice." This notion seemed all to obvious as since the moment the they had started walking, the air around them had slowly grown colder. So chilling was it that it even had begun to dip into the negatives. Yet it had happened so slowly that neither of them had noticed until it was too late. 
	Far, far too late.
	Suddenly, the very air about them erupted into a nova of ice, sending shrapnel and frigid temperatures flying about every which way as very suddenly, the two wardens found themselves covered in a thick immobilizing ice up to their knees! This was her chance to escape, and the girl certainly seized the moment. With just a split second, her form flickered and then disappeared entirely!
	To the amazement of both, it were as if she had blinked from existence. 
	"Time Magic..." Dan muttered in a dry, cold hiss beneath his breadth. "Sangre didn't warn us about that."
	"Well no shit, Dan." Elijah stated sardonically, with a viciously sarcastic turn of his tongue. "Time Magic is a lost art, hasn't been seen since the last Elves had disappeared over a millenia ago. An' look what we have, a target with pointy ears. Those bloody crystals certainly know how to pick their wardens."
	With a sideways glance, Dan looked to the Flame then with a pause in his thoughts. If the last Elves had disappeared so long ago, how long had this girl been wandering about alone? Saying nothing of the matter however, he drew his sword and chipped away at the ice. Soon free of its grasp, he assisted the Flame in freeing himself from the Ice that refused to melt and took in a breadth of their surroundings.
	"Well, she can't have gone far. I think that was just a Blink." Dan flatly stated, with a curve in the corner of his lips indicating his annoyance at his current company. "Shall we go hunting?"
	"Yeah, whatever."
	In all truths, Dan was correct; she hadn't gotten far. Immediately after the Nova, she had Blinked and broke into an all out run while the ice still encompassed and disoriented them. Now, as she nimbly blurred past trees and opened her eyes wide in the state of her Presence of Mind, the world was moving slowly in comparison.
	Once the duo of Wardens were far behind, she immediately ducked behind a tree and flattened her back up against it. With the rapid fire rise and fall of her chest as she regained her breadth, the Magi dared not peek around the corner for the fear that she might be found again. Her mind consumed by what she had just been told, she constantly mulled through the facts while she held her head in her grasp.
	It didn't make sense. These two men were searching for a Warden. A being who harnessed the pinnacle of their element's power in the most adaptable and destructive ways possible. She didn't possess either of those qualities! Believing certainly that they were wrong, the sound of a twig breaking underfoot announced that someone was getting closer than she'd like.
	The window for her chance to escape these two was rapidly dwindling. Another crunch of a twig underfoot announced the pursuer drawing even closer as she flinched. Panic fluttered in her heart then; while she still had the element of surprise, she needed to act!
	Pivoting rapidly from behind the tree trunk, she came eye to eye with the Fiery One, and without a moment's hesitation, she took advantage of her ambush. With a hand shooting upward, an expansive cone of frigid air erupted from her grasp, freezing him up to his knees in solid ice once again as a peculiar flicker happened a second time, and she was gone.
	She had become invisible entirely, vanishing from the sight of the normal human eye.
	Sprinting at breakneck speeds through the forest, there were no other sounds than the frantic pace of her breadth against the rapid cadence of her footsteps. Desperately, her gaze searched for the other man as a string of curses could be heard in the distance behind her. There must be a town nearby, one that didn't want her head on a pike, right? Thinking of the nearby roads and where they lead, she soon found that her options were very few.
	Mulling this over in her mind as she turned to the direction that she believed would lead her to sanctuary, she ran headlong into a solid wall of warmth. Warm, strong, but stern arms wrapped around her then, and then tossed her onto the snow covered forest floor akin to a rag doll being tossed aside. Regaining her balance and returning to a poised stand, the Magi found herself looking into the eyes of the man who had identified himself as the Warden of Air.
	With his sword drawn as frosted magic still danced at her fingertips, the two measured one another up meticulously as two Wardens, though she still didn't believe it in the least.
	"We are here to bring you in. Stop resisting and I promise no harm will come to you." He muttered solemnly, with the leather of his gloves cracking in the cold she constantly emitted as he tightened his grip upon his silvery blade. "We are here to protect you. Stop running."
	"I. Don't. Need. Your. He-" The girl stubbornly began with clenched teeth visible beneath her hood, yet her angered and terrified tirade was cut short as there was a sharp pain on the back of her neck and she fell to her knees. Collapsing to the side as her eyes rolled up into the back of her skull, it was far too easy to see a jutting from the side of her neck. That, and a new hooded figure standing over the collapsed girl.
	There was a hint of recognition in the Wind Warden's eyes, it was Rastia, the leader of the Ragtag Princes. Of which he always bore such a grim expression, even though there was just barely a hint of amusement in his voice.
	"The Warden of Water giving you trouble, Dan?" He began, pulling the needle out of her neck. "Where's Elijah?"
	"Covered to the waist in ice, about half a kilometer away. She has a pretty good bite, and she's quick."
	Slinging the limp form over his shoulder and sheathing his own sword, Rastia cast an apathetic glance to the swordsman. "Well, let's go pick his lazy rear end up. Sangre is waiting."
[/hider]

Chapter 6: A Mile in Their Shoes
[hider]
-
	The door of the shop called Galadelle’s Gala was one that normally swung open and closed several hundreds of times per day. The clothing shop was easily one of the most popular destinations in Patoll’s 16th District, particularly for those possessed of deeper than average pockets. It carried everything from casual clothes and everyday wear to high-class evening ensembles. It was even common rumor that several members of royalty bought their formal attire from Galadelle’s, and if it were ever proved true not one person would be surprised. But today, the store was largely empty. Barely anybody had entered the store, and those that had had bought what they came for and left in a hurry. For someone like Belle, who minding the store for the day, that took all the fun out of it. What was the point in shopping if you didn’t look around? Still, the dearth of customers was understandable; District 23, directly north of them, had recently undergone a brand new wave of gang violence as more groups tried to seize control of Patoll’s territories. District 16 was largely untouched by such things, but the threat of the fighting leaking south was significant enough to make people avoid everything in the vicinity of it. Only two types of people walked the streets out in the open during times like these; fools and daredevils.
	And judging from his look as the door swung open before him, Belle had no idea which of the two this particular well-dressed man was. As he entered the store, his hawkish eyes gave the building a quick scan and, once he had apparently determined that there was no danger present, he gave Belle a curt nod of acknowledgment and set about looking through the store.
	What Dan was after, not even he really knew. He’d come to the clothing store because he needed to buy a gift, but he was entirely unsure of what to buy. Price was no particular object, as the gunman had made quite a lucrative business out of selling his custom made firearms over the years, to say nothing of the stockpile he’d accumulated from his hunting expeditions. Nor, for that matter, was it a question of quality, brand, or make. The real conundrum was that the person he aimed to please merited something special, yet was almost impossible to shop for. What was one to present to a woman who had walked the world for several millennia, after all? Still, he had to find something; it was Remy’s birthday in a handful of very short days. With that in mind, the hunter set about pursuing his quarry, in spite of not being in a hunting ground he was accustomed to. 
	“Can I help you find something?”
	It had been roughly twenty minutes since he entered the store. He’d spent most of it wandering about the area of the Gala that contained women’s eveningwear and accessories, but may as well have spent it aimlessly staring at the floor for all the good it had done him. That’s when the attendant, one Belle by her nametag, had approached from behind the register and asked if he was in need of assistance. To say that he was would have been a supreme understatement, but he couldn’t very well tell her the whole truth of the matter.  Still, there was no harm in being civil, and with the correct spin on the matter she might even be able to help.
	“Possibly. You see, I’m looking for a present to give a woman very dear to me. Unfortunately, I’ve no idea what to get her. I considered something along the lines of a new dress or an accessory of some kind, but the problem is she already has a large collection of such things in a whole rainbow of colors…”
	“And you’re after something special that she can wear either on specific occasions or all the time, right?”
	“Yes, that’s correct.”
	The saleswoman bit her lip in thought as she considered things in that labyrinthine cycle that overly fashion-conscious ladies all seemed to undergo when shopping for clothing. And then a spark lit in her eyes.
	“I wonder… this lady friend of yours, is she at all magically inclined?”
	Dan had to scoff slightly at the question.
	“To say she’s magically inclined is a bit like saying the ocean is deep.”
	“Ah. Very well, come with me then.”
	With a small, graceful gesture to follow, Belle began to make her way further back in the store. Unsure of what to expect, Dan traced her footsteps with his own until they came before what appeared to be an ordinary supply closet in the very back of the shop. Just as his skepticism came upon him, however, Belle firmly shut the closet’s door and withdrew a long, gold key on a ring of similar keys from her belt. Following that, she pushed the key into the door’s lock, turned it thrice, and then opened the door again. This time, it opened unto a hallway lined with dresses, tuxedos, shoes, and objects of very high class, similar to the rest of the store. What caught his attention about the items beyond the door, however, was the fact that there were relatively few of them, each one was different in some subtle way, if not vastly so, each one had the look of peerless craftsmanship… and every last one of them produced the tiny vibrations in his senses that gave them away as magically imbued.
	“Ah, so you’ve noticed. This is a special section of our store. Every item you see in here is created to interact with the wearer’s magic. Depending on the make and power of the user, these can all change color or hue, adjust their length, and some can even swap material. It’s normally reserved for select clientele, but for you… I’ll make an exception.”
	Dan’s eyes slid over to look the girl called Belle in her own orbs of silken white as he visibly mused over something in his head. 
	“Clearly there is more to you than meets the eye, Ms Belle. But I thank you for the exception.”
	“Feel free to ask if you have need of anything else, Mr Halen.”
	And just like that, she was away once more. For his part, Dan immediately set about exploring this new department, seeing what he could find. There were dresses, necklaces, and bags galore, each one accompanied by a tag describing what its capabilities were, and even some rather… risqué undergarments that advertised their ability to vanish and reappear at will. And yet, none of them seemed quite right. That was when something caught his eye toward the floor. A single lady’s ankle boot, black in color, was lying under one of the clothing racks. Dan bent down and scooped it into his hand, looking it over quite curiously. Something about it had attracted his attention, but what?
	“Well, first thing’s first. Let’s find your mate, shall we… aha. There you are.”
	The boot’s partner had been lying a few feet away, still in its box along with the descriptive tag. It displayed the boot’s make, model, the enchanter who had made them, and went on to explain that with even the slightest touch of magic, the boots could be made to take on any number of color patterns, switch between rich leather, warm nylon, soft satin, or even comfortable felt, and could even have the height of the heel and neck adjusted at will. 
	“’And all with only a tiny bit of magic and a vision of what you seek. Even the vaguest notions will do; the enchantments will do the rest.’ Interesting promise, let’s see here…”
	With a quick breath, Dan held the boot he’d recovered aloft as he closed his eyes and imagined “something that suited Remy.” A slight extension of his will pushed what little magic he possessed toward the boot, and after a few short seconds the air around it began to vibrate and then settle down. When he opened his eyes again, he was quite taken aback; the boot had shifted its shape entirely, becoming a sturdily built shoe with a thick sole and a deep brown color to it that featured specs of green tastefully splashed here and there. It was a hiking boot of sorts, that much was clear, and yet it was still elegant and lithe in design. It was strange nonetheless, though. How on earth did something so rugged and rough in design suit her, of all people? And it was achingly familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it…
	With a start, Dan’s eyes widened as he recalled where he’d seen these boots before, with almost crystalline clarity. He smiled as he began to recollect his memories of that day in Winter, all those years ago…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	It happened high in one of the towers that sat at the center of On’Eman, home to the Wardens and Sangre de la Rosa’s highest messengers. And it happened late at night. Dan, for his part, had been resting lightly in one of the corridors, just outside his own dormitory. His eyes cracked open and he yawned slightly, as if woken by something he had expected but not known when it would come. A quick stretch of his arms followed, and he turned to the nearby door. Two sharp knocks in rapid succession preceded him as he opened it, sauntered inside, and closed it behind him. 
	“Good evening. Have a nice sleep?”
	He reached over to retrieve the chair that sat at a desk- his desk- and pulled it near the door to sit on. All the while, his eyes remained at least half open and locked on the elven woman who was sitting upright in his bed. Remy Charlevoix, as she had identified herself, had proved to be a troublesome, mischievous, feisty-pants of a quarry. And they all sincerely doubted she would give up her hopes of escape simply because she’d been caught once. Which, of course, had been the entire reason he’d volunteered to keep an eye on her.
	“Where am I?” she demanded as her own eyes snapped to look at him. “What did you do to me?!”
	“Nothing serious. And nothing I had in mind. I was planning to talk you down, but I guess Rastia got impatient and went straight for the subterfuge. I did, however, convince them to let you sleep it off before we did anything more, which is why you’re here in my personal quarters.”
	He gestured to the walls about him as he referenced the room. One wall was dominated by a rack of various types of swords, while the other featured a large bookshelf that held everything from classic novels and the complete works of Shakespeare to modern stories and manga. The two remaining walls were largely comprised of a massive window that overlooked the coastline and the oak door behind him. And he took note of the fact that her eyes darted toward it more often than anything else in the room. 
	“I wouldn’t if I were you. I’d really rather sit and have a civil discussion.”
	A smirk came to her face at that, as if she’d been taunted by a being far below her.
	“And what on earth makes you think you could stop me? I distinctly remember being able to leave you behind quite easily before.”
	“Try it and see.”
	Their eyes never left each other. Seconds stretched into eons as they watched each other and waited. Finally, perhaps overcome by lack of sleep for a brief moment, Dan blinked. And when his eyes opened again, a wave of ice had swept over the room, encasing its contents and the man himself in an icy shell. At the same time, the elven girl’s form vanished as she began to teleport again. What she did not expect, however, was for an arm to shoot out from the sphere of frost that had covered the chair and its occupant, the hand arranged in a gripping manner on what was naught but thin air. A moment later though, and the hand was firmly wrapped around Remy’s upper arm as she blinked directly into it. Her head whirled around in utter shock as the ice around Dan began to crack and then shatter, blown away by the gale that had appeared around him to absorb the frost nova and leave him untouched by it. And, for all of it, his eyes were still gazing directly into hers.
	“I should note,” he said with a hint of reprimand in his voice, “That I never fall for the same trick twice. Your chronomancy caught me off guard before, I’ll give you that, but I suggest you don’t allow a single victory to go to your head.”
	“Now,” he continued, his hand releasing her as he stood, “If you would be so kind as to rescind your ice and have a seat again?”
	It took her a moment of indecision, but after some time and a prolonged stare down, she finally relented. The ice seemed to pull back into the soles of her feet as she stalked back to the bed and sat down on it. Dan, meanwhile, reached over to the bookshelf and began to leaf through the titles on the upper shelf.
	“Ah, all of good William’s plays are intact. I could never forgive myself if I allowed them to be damaged.”
	“Your name was Dan, correct?”
	“That’s right.”
	“What is it you want from me?”
	“I’d rather you not play ignorant,” he stated calmly as he returned to his seat with a copy of King Lear tucked under his arm, “I’m fairly certain Amelia gave you the rundown while you were sleeping. She has a flair for dream visions.”
	“Amelia?”
	“That’s what we call her, anyway. The rest of the world knows her as Sangre de la Rosa. Above average height, ruby red hair, always seems to have a rose on her?”
	“Oh. Her.” Remy visibly tensed up at the thought of the woman he had described. “So. She was the goddess in who’s name I was to be killed.”
	A sharp bark of laughter reverberated about the room as a response. 
	“HA! Please. If Amelia wanted someone dead, she would’ve sent one of us, not a mob of young hotheads armed with farm equipment. And the loss of one village’s crops is nowhere near a hindrance to her or her devices.”
	He looked up from his page to look Remy in the eyes again.
	“Did she honestly seem like the vengeful type to you?”
	“… No.”
	He smiled at that.
	“I thought not.”
	“But why me?”
	“Pardon?”
	“Why do I have to be your stupid Water Warden or whatever it is? I’m not some grand magister, or seafaring warrior, or anything remotely like that. I’m just a mage with a minor affinity for ice.”
	“Hmm. Remy, what do you think we Wardens are?”
	“You’re the ultimate mortal powers in this world. Masters over your elements, veterans of countless battles, and it’s said that just one of you can match the fighting power of an entire army. You’re the best of the best.”
	“Hmm. Interesting. But not wholly correct. You’re right when you say we’re very skilled in combat, but that’s far from our raison d’etrê. As for holding mastery over our elements… that’s entirely false. Case in point- I could rattle off a dozen Aeromancers that could make my manipulation of the wind look mediocre and amateurish by comparison. The only advantage I have over them is that I can call on more of the wind than they can. No, the true purpose of the Wardens is Balance.”
	“Balance?”
	“Yes. Cause, effect. Action, reaction. You see, On’Eman is a realm that teeters on the edge of a knife. An errant slip to one side or another, and it will fall. That is what we are here to prevent. We each represent an element so as to preserve balance amongst them, and we do use them to fight, but our primary invocation of them is to keep the land in harmony.”
	“How has the harmony been preserved then, without a Water Warden?”
	“It hasn’t. I was the last Warden to be selected; I took over the Air Mantle from its previous owner. Shortly thereafter, the previous Water Warden renounced his mantle and departed from the world. That was four years ago. And in that time, nobody else has appeared with the ability to influence the element of water to the proper degree… until now, that is.”
	“And what makes you think I can perform such a feat?”
	“Simple; you already have.”
	“What, destroying a village’s crops preserved balance in some way?”
	“Believe it or not? Yes. Yes it did.”
	“Madness.”
	“Oh, I can be quite mad when the mood strikes me, but it is not now. Let me show you.”
	With a wave of his hand, the window of the chamber rippled as if it was a liquid surface as the air refocused itself like a magnifying glass. Dan twitched his fingers slightly, as if tuning an instrument, and the image shown in the window began to shift and change until it finally showed a frostbound mountainside village- the same one where Remy had been found.
	“I’m sure you’ll recognize this place. The village of Aum, quiet little mountain town, very quaint. Nice place to spend the summer, really.”
	“It won’t be for much longer. Not after I ruined it.”
	“I would not be so sure. Aum has been the recipient of bountiful harvests for the past 3 years, largely due to their harvest season being able to extend through December and on into February before the snow comes. And the village leader is a wise and prudent man; they have enough of a stockpile of supplies that being snowbound two months early won’t cause them much harm beyond a few teeth chattering. Now, then…”
	His fingers twitched several more times, and the window’s focus altered to show another village, this one nestled in a valley near a steadily flowing river. Visible in the picture was a group of children play in the water, only waist deep to them, but clearly enjoying themselves. 
	“Now this… this village is called Fore Gams. What do you see here, Remy?”
	“I see a pleasant riverside community. They depend on the river for nearly everything, and they thrive as it flows.”
	“Very good, and quite right. However, do you know why those children are playing in the river as we speak?”
	“Why shouldn’t they?”
	“Because until two days ago, that river was as dry as a desert. The children are playing in it because it is the first time in three years that the water has been deep enough to go for a swim. In fact, if the water did not relent and the river remained sparse, Fore Gams would likely have died before the year is out. But, as it happens, the mountains where the river’s source is located are experiencing a massive snowfall, come two months early. And the resulting melt off has revived the river long before the scorching sun of early spring in the region can touch it.”
	He turned to watch her facial expression turn from confusion, pass through shock, and proceed to understanding. She swiveled her head about to face him, and he watched as the dawning comprehension crested the horizon of her brow. He smiled warmly at it, at her, before continuing to speak .
	“So you see,” he began as he cancelled the spell on the window, “Balance. Take from those who have too much, and give to those with far too little. That is what it means to be a Warden.”
	“But… there’s no way I could control it. That was pure happenstance, little more!”
	“That is no matter. Rastia keeps to himself, but Elijah and I would both be more than happy to help you rein in your powers. You have plenty of power, you showed that in the forest where we found you. What you lack is refinement and experience; we can help you acquire both in ample amounts.”
	She turned away again, this time looking out the window in dismay. Dan’s brow furrowed in bewilderment; what could it be that still inhibited her? 
	“I don’t…”
	His eyes drifted over her person and the belongings that had been placed around her when he originally laid her down. Finally, they settled on the shoes she had been wearing. It was a pair of travelling boots that seemed lightly worn, with deep brown hues and some light grass stains. And yet, there was something in the air about them. Something that set his senses alight the longer he looked. Like a puzzle that was solvable at last, the pieces began to slip into place and he finally understood where the true obstacle lay.
	“Remy… what are you running from?”
	“What did you say?”
	“What. Are. You running from?”
	“And what makes you think I’m running from anything?”
	“This.”
	He reached down and lifted one of the boots from the floor, bringing it to eye level. 
	“What, my shoes? They’re well used, I’ll give you that, but come now.”
	“You’re right, they are quite broken in, but they’re also in fair condition. And yet, I wonder…”
	His other hand rose up, his fingers flexing as they felt through the air around the boot. Small ripples seemed to form in the air beneath his touch at certain points, and their appearance seemed to cause Remy no shortage of unease.
	“Wonder? Wonder what?”
	“Well, there seems to be an enchantment on these boots. Given your skill with chronomancy that you’ve displayed before, I have to wonder…”
	With a single, forceful tap on one of the ripples, the air around the boot ruptured and fell away. With the time magic responsible for keeping it intact undone, what was left was a haggard and ragged shoe, ran into the ground by constant use and abuse. 
	“Seems a little… worn out for casual wear.”
	“They’re comfortable shoes, I like them, and I… I travel. I wander. Quite a bit, at that.”
	“Wander? Remy, look at this. Where the sole isn’t worn to nothingness, it’s falling away. There are holes near the toe, and the heel would come off if I pulled on it a little. The laces are frayed, and the emblem on the tongue has been wiped away. What’s more, this material is a specific leather made from a particular breed of bison. A breed of bison that wasn’t cleared from the endangered species list and made available for hunting until seven years ago. I have a pair of hiking boots twice that age that are in vastly better shape than this. Remy, this is not the boot of someone who wanders or travels frequently. This is the boot of someone constantly on the run, someone who’s never allowed to put their feet up.”
	And then it hit him, all at once it hit him.
	“This is the boot of someone who doesn’t have a place she can call home.”
	The statement caught her off guard. Her head raised slightly, her eyes widening as she realized she’d been ferreted out. Not a moment later she had shied back into herself again, her eyes becoming touched by the slightest degree of moisture.
	“I… I’ve never been able to settle down. Wherever I go, I can never stay for long. Ever since I had to leave Silvermoon City. You saw the way those villagers regarded me. That’s the way it always is. Whether it’s because of my heritage, or my ability to use magic, or my magic going out of control, or even just something unfortunate occurring shortly after my arrival… I’m always chased out by a torch-bearing mob. Like a monster.”
	Dan listened to her, watched the tears begin to form, observed as she fought them back with everything she had. His expression was a wall of iron, but behind that he was fighting his own emotional battle, one that brought back images from his own past when he had to fight to survive. Then, without a word, he rose, crossed to the wardrobe of the room, and delved inside. When he emerged, he was carrying a pair of white women’s shoes, which he set down in front of Remy.
	“I’m not sure why I still have these. They used to belong to a young woman that often stopped by here, and I guess she left them here one day. They look close to your size though, so I think they’ll serve you well enough. In the meantime, I’d like to strike an agreement with you.”
	“For the last time, I don’t want to-”
	“And it has nothing to do with you becoming a Warden. I want you to give me- to give us- four days’ time. For the next four days, I want you to spend your time here and around our world. For that duration, I’d like you to abandon any thoughts of escape or flight, and also dispatch any thoughts that regard Wardenhood. If anybody brings it up, you may tell them to take it up with me. And, after those four days have concluded, if you still feel that you can never find a home here, I will buy you the finest pair of boots known to man and personally send you on your way to wherever the wind may take you. There will be no pursuit, there will be no objection, and anybody who attempts to stop you will first have to go through me. But. If, during those four days, you find yourself able to accept On’Eman as your hearth, if you have even a slight shred of doubt about leaving it behind you, I want you to stay. Permanently.”
	Her eyes met his again, and the staredown resumed as she mulled over what he had just said. A mask of elvish impassiveness hid her emotions as she considered and reconsidered the offer. Finally, he spoke again.
	“Well, Ms Charlevoix? Do we have a deal?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	As his thoughts finished swimming out of his memories, the Hunter realized he was still smiling while holding the shoe aloft like a skull in a cliché production of Hamlet. A quick redirection of his focus turned the ankle boot back to its black color, and he was soon waltzing to the register with the shoebox in hand. 
	It was just past 10:00 pm when he finally returned to the Blades Headquarters with the gift wrapped box in tow. He stealthily walked through the halls, careful not to disturb any slumbering parties. As he reached his own room, he opened the door and noticed a body lying in his bed, sound asleep under the covers. From the look of things, Remy had planned to surprise him, but had underestimated her own ability to stay awake. With a sigh, Dan carefully tucked the box away in a hiding place, to wait until the proper day, and noted as he passed by that Remy had discarded her shoes by the bedside. Funnily enough, it was the same pair he’d given to her as a precursor to their pact, the white purity and cleanliness kept intact even to this day, not by magic, but by simple care. He was forced to smile once again as a result of it while he dressed to join his loving little elf for the night.
	“My my, today is a day for coincidences.”

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Chapter 7: Of Sunsets
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	Twirling a slender white shoe upon a fingertip as she carefully looked it over with meticulous detail, she soon set it down upon the polished hardwood at her gunman's bedside. Already, the day had drawn to a longer hour than she had hoped, and not only that, she had barely even gotten a glimpse of him during the business of the day. Sliding to rest her palms upon the mattress at her side as she sat, her cheeks puffed just slightly as her lips blew away a strand of blonde hair aside.
	Just where was that hunter? It was already well past eight! Shaking her head away from the thoughts of worriment and concern, the Elven girl impatiently studied the door as footsteps continually rose and fell into dim echoes while others strode past his quarters.
	They had been ever careful about making their relationship secretive, but that didn't mean she wasn't terribly nervous as to what might happen if a member of their more rambunctious crewmen decided to barge through the door for whatever reason might suit them. Dreading the impossibly huge range of expressions she might hear, she would brush it all away as she leaned forward to rest her chin upon a palm as her eyes fell to a half-lidded state. It had been a long day, she was already exhausted beyond all measure; perhaps it was simply easier to slide beneath the covers and catch a small cat nap before he returned home at long last.
	Little did she know that she was going to dream a wondrous dream.

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Onboard the Airship 

	"Are you certain, Elijah?"
	Her voice rang out clearly with the ominous silence that seemed to hang over the room. There, the small quarters stood the Four. Wardens of their respective elements, each of them just as monstrous as the next. As the mechanical sounds of invention rumbled and rattled all about them, all their eyes had settled upon a distinct figure upon the table. A figure made of fire to which they all stared upon it. It was a tower, made out of illusory flames that displayed within it the tablets of stone they had sought after for weeks.
	Stones that bore the words that just might save the desperate and warring world of On'Man.
	Elijah didn't even address her about her inquiry, nor did he even look at her, further adding a bitter sting of salt to a fresh wound. Frowning, shards of ice crept upward on the table to sheath the flames in eternal ice as she turned swiftly and left the room in silence. Four wardens, and not one of them did she understand. One she had grown so close to, only to be cast aside. And the other two were simply distant. One was always so quiet, while the other probably saw her as an ineffective warden still, even years after her ascension.
	Many years after Amelia had gifted her with the Warden's mantle.
	Moving to her quarters and closing the door, her fingertips swiftly coursed through her hair in bitter frustration at the mistakes she had made. What had once been a home was hastily becoming distant again, perhaps like those villagers so many years ago. Could it be that this, all of this, was a place she would have to abandon once again? Perhaps it was only fair...she had partook on a venture that she should have known was bound to be fruitless, this could be her punishment. In the end, it mattered not. Her mind was made, she would serve the remainder of her purpose and then be gone from this place.
	A few hours later, the wardens stood upon a precipice. 
	Below them peeking through the clouds was an ominous looking tower made from obsidian stone. Flying high above it, the ramp leading to the back of the airship revealed the four as the looked to their objective far below. The Magi didn't say a single word, she knew what she had to do. That, and the miserable silence that seemed to hang over the four gave little room to even sigh in resignation without Elijah becoming indignant with her. So, as the ship turned, the Magi leaped from the back with her four compatriots and the fell towards its pinnacle. With little more than rushing wind to greet her ears, her fingertips waved through the air as a literal road of frost grew from her feet. Creating a path for her and four others to slide down quickly as with a few hundred feet's fall, the four would land upon the tower's peak.
	Before them resilient stood a massive door of oak constructed by ancients from another age. Behind it was the key to their destiny, their purpose. The reason why they all came here was distinct, the were here to restore balance to the world, no matter the cost.
	"Rastia and I will take the front." Halen solemnly stated, bringing his sword to bear with one hand as she stepped in line behind him to support. And so, with a mighty pull, the massive doors creaked open with just a crack. With barely enough room to fit the four through, the Magi glanced nervously to the three who seemed so eerily calm. But as the blazing afternoon sun cast a light into the room, she could glance within and see two massive slabs of stone.
	"They're in there allright," the silver tongued weaver spoke with a sneer. "My sources always check out." 
	Shaking her head as Dan and Rastia pulled away at the doors, the Magus first stepped inside and inhaled the dusty and stale air. Cautiously with light and nimble feet, she approached the stones and soon found them to be written in a language that was far different than normal. An ancient tongue, her original tongue. Rastia was the second to notice this, and he then glanced to the wide-eyed magi with a wary stare.
	"Remy, care to read it aloud for us?"
	"Of-of course! Sorry, I got caught up in the moment." Quickly scanning the stones, her people's words were easily translated into the common everyone else was accustomed to. Even on a more rough tongue, the elven inscription still carried a melodic quality. "For when the world has earned the Gods' ire, and for when wars turn cities to dust with famine and fire, a sacrifice must be made. Plentiful beauty that all adore, has but only one way for all to be restored. A sacrifice of one who bears love for this world, and with their death the madness shall be unfurled. Wardens of the elements are the only ones who can complete this task. They are they only ones who can liberate the heavens and earth from an angered God's grasp."
	With the last words falling from her lips, a long silence hung over the four. One of them had to die. How could they choose who would be sacrificed? Without hesitation, the Magi quickly came to words first.
	"I will be the sacrifice. That is all." Turning and running away from the tense moment, she headed for the exit of the dusty chamber as a stunned silent trio finally gathered their senses, the Magi simply sat upon the ledge and let her feet dangle over the seemingly infinite expanse below. Staring out into the sunset that turned the clouds of white into flames, her ears caught a separate detail.
	She could hear footsteps approaching.*

______________
The conscious world. 

	Footsteps also sounded as they drew near, but this time they paused at the door to Dan's chambers. A jingle of fingertips fumbling for keys indicated that whomever it was is going to enter, so the Magus quickly covered herself in the blanket just in case it was someone else. Yet as the door swung wide and a shuffling of items occurred, she heard his voice and quietly rejoiced. Blearily she would swing the blanket off and away to spring up to the man and wrap her arms warmly about his shoulders and neck just as he had begun to change into his evening clothes. 
	"You're late!" She exclaimed in a hushed whisper so it would not fall upon the ears of others. However, her critical tension would swiftly fade into a softened and amorous smile as she looked up to him. "Welcome home, you bum."

*The post from the original RP that tells the story of the footsteps. This entry, and indeed this story, would be woefully incomplete without it.
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	With a bitter taste, the Magi found herself to be at least tentatively content waiting in the confines of her claimed cabin. Whether it was truthfully hers or not ceased to matter as the frigid frost she controlled crawled along slowly to encompass the floor, the walls, and eventually even that of the ceiling. From there, as it overcame the room, stalactites and stalagmites of solid ice eventually grew, coming together in some instances to create the dazzling scenery one would find in a cavern of ice. It was here in this cold, she found her solace in the pages of a book, and it would seem to be that not a single soul would dare bother her here in her sanctuary.
	Even more so as frigid air crept beneath the crack of the door in a thick mist. Yet one soul seemed to be unperturbed as an abrupt rapping upon her door rattled the floor.
	"Who is it?" The Magi inquired sullenly in a dark tone, as her mood was ill fit for that of a social demure. Yet there was no response, even though she could see a shadow at the door. "Who is there, and what do you want then?" In a more demanding tone this time, she still received no answer or anything of the sort. A sigh of frustration escaped her lips as the tome she was reading snapped deftly shut and she rose in stride to walk to the door with a frown of disgust.
	With a sharp turn upon the frosted bronze handle, the door swung upon with a burst of snow and frigid air behind it, causing the bitterly cold breeze to spread rapidly through the hallway. But what was most peculiar, was that there was no one to be seen! No stranger or hauntingly familiar face knocking upon her chamber door? Yet there was a scent, a delicious, invigorating scent, and her gaze fell to the floor to find a bowl of spaghetti? The fierce smell of spicy peppers and the like passed her senses, and she picked up the bowl and held it in her hands. It was warm to the touch, and by the texture of the noodles, it was freshly made.
	But by whom?
	Turning to her room and closing the door behind her, Remy thumbed the fork that was dug into the porcelain bowl and idly twirling it about the angel hair pasta, she created a small bite for her to take. Slowly, the Magi partook in a bite and after a moment's breadth, her eyes widened in surprise. It was spicy and delicious certainly, but what caught her attention the most is that the dish was painstakingly familiar to a certain recipe she had eaten once before. Such a recipe she had partaken in another time of great misery and hopelessness.
	It had happened many years ago, in a time where she had learned that she was destined to be a sacrifice.

([url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kqrg_1TkKT4]Theme[/url], if you'd like it to read to. Since I wrote to it, might be nice. ^_^; )

	Once upon an age, she was sitting upon a stone ledge of a magnificent tower, the Magi was looking out upon an open plain as the wind swept the tall grasses about in a wave of beautiful unison. What was once a normally steadfast figure on the field of battle in the face of great horrors and devastation was in fact trembling. Pressing the texture of her palms into the cold stone as the prophecy that had been written thousands of years ago condemned her to a terrible fate still echoed in her mind, all in the vain attempt to steady her nerves.
	However, for the first time in quite awhile, she wasn't alone.
	She didn't flinch as the sound of footsteps scraping against the masonry crept up behind her, nor did she turn as the visitor sat beside her. The only thing that drew her eyes to look at him was a peculiar scent she had never smelled before. A strange mixture of herbs and spices for a biting flavor that was obviously more than present, and oddly, she found herself looking at Dan Halen. An old friend and comrade, with a strange affinity for blades instead of magic or bullets. What was stranger was that he held a bowl of some sort of pasta and tomato sauce. Dropping a fork into the pasta, he actually looked at her with a sly grin. Which was a far cry from the almost apathetic poker face he seemed to always hold.
	"It's not every day that you get told you're going to die, is it?" He inquired quietly, passing the bowl over to her. Which, after a moment's hesitance slender fingertips took the warm bowl into her grasp. Silently, the Magi would simply nod in response, to which he returned with an equal silence as she idly played with the fork until he interrupted her with an almost fatherly tone. "Remy, take a bite and stop playing with your food. It'll help you feel better, I promise." So she took up the utensil in her grasp and took a bite shortly thereafter. To which her eyes widened quickly as tears rose to her eyes from the spiciness. Quirking a brow, Remy glanced over to the swordsman as her cheeks flushed red from the heated flavor, by which he chuckled of course.
	Finally swallowing the bite, the Magi finally spoke. "A bit too spicy, don't you think?"
	Of which he would only naturally respond with mild humor. "I thought heat caused no trouble for someone as chilling as yourself."
	Lightly, she elbowed him in good nature at the jab towards her bitter cold as he was just close enough. Yet silence fell upon them both again for a few moments until she had collected her scattered thoughts enough to speak. "Yeah, you're right...you don't get told you're destined to die for the sake of others quite often at all." She bore a sardonic smile at the thought as she edged slightly closer to him to watch the sunset side by side. As the golden orb gradually turned to a fiery orange, she finally rested the weight of her head upon his shoulder and closed her eyes as the warmth of the fading sun gently touched her cheek.
	"I'd never thought the number of sunsets and sunrises I would get to see would be finite." She began, speaking quietly as her pinkie finger laced around his. "I'll be sure to jump before Rastia or Elijah. You guys need them far more than I."
	Snapping her mind out of this memory, Remy quickly realized that the bowl of spaghetti was now empty. Having eaten it rather absentmindedly as she drifted off into a wondrous daydream. Sliding the fork into the bowl as it scraped an annoying tune across the porcelain, the magi stood up and almost stared quizzically at the bowl as if it were some mythical object. That was the exact recipe she could remember. The wholeness and body of the spicy tomato flavor was one that was truly hard to deny. Yet it drew further befuddlement at the puzzle. Dan had made this, it hadn't appeared out of nowhere.
	It must have been him. And by him...she meant that he truly was the one by which she had once known.
	But why lie to her? Why disguise the truth? It didn't make sense!
	Keeping the bowl in her grasp, she walked out of the ship's cabin hallway and onto the dock where everyone had gathered to meet Rastia. Sure, she was a bit late to the ceremony to a degree, yet it was slightly unfair as she had been under a touch of stress. However, that being aside, she had become recomposed, no longer constantly emanating such frigid air by which many would find miserable discomfort. In fact, she seemed almost as if the magi would be warm to the touch. Perhaps by the regaining of her hope as she strode over to stand beside Dan.
	With a sharp clang of the fork against porcelain, the Magi pushed the bowl into his chest with a hastened whisper behind it paired by a coy smile, so that only he would hear.
	"I suppose my sunrises and sunsets weren't as finite as we thought, hm?" 
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