[center][h1]Previous Entries Cont.[/h1][/center]

Chapter 8: The End of a Dream
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	“You’re late!”
	The voice sounded from behind Dan as he had started to undress himself with his back to the bed. As he turned toward the sound, Remy was half-leaping toward him to throw her arms around his neck. With all the expertise of a swordsman he shifted his weight backward onto his off foot to account for it, and promptly slipped his own arms away from undoing his shirt buttons to receive her as the rest of her body gently collided with his.
	“I know I am,” he told her as their heads came to rest on each other’s shoulder, “And I’m sorry.”
	“Welcome home, you bum,” was her answer as she eased herself off of his upper body, but stayed pressed against him. “Where have you been?”
	“Just running a few errands. I had some things I needed to pick up.”
	“Oh?” she asked as she began to idly toy with his shirt and undo the last few buttons for him, “Like what?”
	“That,” he replied, “Is something you’ll just have to find out about in a few days.”
	“A few days?” She demanded with the faux-pouting face that she always did when he asked her to wait for something, “Why can’t I find out today?”
	Dan reached out and placed his hand atop her head, ruffling her hair slightly in an affectionate manner. The gesture only seemed to make her pout more, but that in turn gave him greater cause to smile. Remy was quite cute when she pouted like that, at least in his opinion. 
	“Because you silly girl, today isn’t your birthday.”
	That broke up the pouting in a hurry. Instead, shock and awe took to Remy’s face as her eyes opened wide and blinked several times at him.
	“My… you- wait, how…?” she started to stumble and stammer out before finally gathering her rattled nerves together, “You remember my birthday? Even after all these years?”
	“Of course I do,” he reassured her as he finished shedding his shirt and put it into the nearby laundry basket, “July 31st. It’s very easy to remember when it’s so alike my own.”
	Remy’s brow furrowed as he said that. Something felt off about what he was saying, but what was it? Then it struck her; in all the years she’d known him, she’d never thought to ask after Dan’s birthday. But, she reasoned, it was better to learn late than to never learn at all.
	“Ah ha. And just when is that, if I may ask?”
	“The 21st of July. So about seven days ago.”
	“WHAT?!”
	He felt a slight, sharp pain in the side of his head as he started to turn around again. The culprit was revealed to be a small chunk of ice, now broken on the floor below, that had been hurled at him with enough force to sting slightly but not enough to actually hurt. 
	“WHY DIDN’T YOU-”
	As Remy started to call out, Dan rushed forward with a slight gust of wind to place two of his fingers over her mouth. It was a gesture to lower her voice, so as to not wake anybody or alert their coworkers to the possibility of their elusive affair. She gave him a curt nod, pushed his fingers down with her hand, and continued staring at him quite menacingly while she continued with a whisper.
	“Why didn’t you say anything?!”
	“Because my ego’s not big enough for me to go announcing it up and down the halls. Besides, I didn’t think it was all that important or noteworthy to begin with…”
	That remark earned him a swift tap on the forehead from the tip of Remy’s hand in admonition. 
	“Of course it is, you butt! Do you have any idea how many lives would be different if you hadn’t been born? Do you have any idea how much MY life would have…?”
	She began to trail off as she turned her head to the side and avoided looking him in the eyes for a moment. A slight tinge of red blush bloomed at the tops of her cheeks, and it gave Dan cause to chuckle quietly to himself before wrapping her in his arms again.
	“Well then, I suppose it’s worth taking note of after all.”
	She leaned into him and closed her eyes for a moment, doing little more than returning his embrace and slowly inhaling his scent as the quiet, steady beat of his heart strummed in her ear.
	“What a bother though. Now I’ll have to go find you a present in a hurry, won’t I?”
	“I don’t think so. Having you back in my life is gift enough for ten birthdays.”
	He squeezed his arms around her for several seconds, almost as if he was afraid that something would soon try to take her from him again and sought to hold onto her with everything he had. When he released the tension, however, he bore a look of sadness, and though she kept her head against his chest, his sorrow was evident in his voice.
	“If only I hadn’t treated you the way I did when I first arrived. Remy, I’m… I’m so sorry. I was just… I was so certain it was a trick, a trap of some kind, and I couldn’t-”
	This time, it was her turn to stifle his speech with her two fingers- fittingly enough, the hand she used was the one around which was clasped the sapphire bracelet he’d given her.
	“Shhhhh. I know, Dan. I know about the pain you endured, the suffering that was thrust upon you. I saw all of it.”
	She moved her fingers down to the ruby necklace that dangled about his neck, her eyes glancing at it knowingly.
	“Then you did find out about it. But even still, that’s not an excuse for my behavior. I owe you far more than a mere apology, but-”
	“You owe me nothing, Daniel. If anything, I am the one indebted to you. You gave me a home when I had none, you offered me mercy when all others only gave condemnation, you’ve given me my life countless times…”
	Finally, she turned her head so that her eyes stared into his, emerald intertwining with gold as she finished her statement.
	“… and you gave me a chance where no one else ever had. That alone is a debt I’ll gladly spend all my life repaying if I must.”
	It happened slowly, at first. When her words first echoed through his ears, he simply kept his eyes locked with hers. Then, with aching slowness, a soft, warm smile came to his lips as the words sunk in. His left eye closed and squinted further shut in order to halt a single, small tear that had formed in its corner. Here, in the midst of a time when he was eternally looking over his shoulder for a knife aimed at his back, was an old friend who had still not forsaken him. No, she was far more than that. She was not just a friendly face in a storm; she was his shining beacon, a light in his life that refused to be extinguished in spite of whatever darkness attempted to assail it. She was his hope.
	“Well… perhaps, then, a Happy Birthday would be a start?” he mentioned, more than half jokingly.
	Her response, however, was to gently push on his nose with her finger and smile back.
	“Happy belated birthday then, my fellow Leo.”
	“Mmm. Cancer, actually. I was born two days early to be a Leo.”
	“Oh my. That’s a problem, I’m not sure I’m wont to get a birthday present for a crab… you couldn’t have been born two days later?”
	“Given that my father was 52 years old when I was conceived? I’m not too inclined to complain!”
	“Oh wow! Your father was very virile, wasn’t he?”
	That was when Remy adopted her trademark mischievous grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat himself.
	“And you know, they say such things are hereditary…”
	Dan saw where she was going with her implications, and soon found himself mirroring the grin as he began to play with one of the shoulder straps of her dress.
	“Sounds like something we ought to test for ourselves to me…”
	Not long after, the two were very slowly, very passionately disrobing each other and falling into a mutual embrace for the evening. And if the temperature of the room had risen just a tiny bit, neither one of them would have noticed. All that filled their minds, Dan’s in particular, as they drifted off to sleep at the conclusion of their festivities was how much like a blissful, fantastic dream his life had become in the past year. 
	However, dreams have an unfortunate tendency to come crashing down at the height of their ecstasy. 
	It was not apparent. Not at first, at least. And it happened with glacial slowness as the cracks began to form in the hunter’s wonderful dream, creeping their way through the walls of his life without him noticing. It all began several weeks after Remy’s birthday. As he spent time with the woman of his loftiest fantasies, he began to note an increasingly bothersome itch along his neck, as though he- or rather, they- were being watched. Each time he encountered it, his hunter’s senses would extend to their utmost by reflex, but each time he would turn over nothing. And the more it happened, the more concerning it became. Whoever or whatever was observing them, it was clearly adept at covering its tracks. Moreover, he never found it when he was by himself; it only made its presence known when he and Remy were together. That, more than anything else, gave him cause for alarm. 
	The distraction soon became evident. He found himself unable to devote his attentions to her fully when they shared company, and the increasing paranoia even prompted Remy to inquire after his health several times. Moreover, his nervousness had begun to intrude upon his slumber once again. What had become peaceful nights of sleep were now devolving into the bouts of uncertainty and worry that had plagued him for so long. Who was it that was stalking them? Had he been tracked down by Rastia again, even after all he had done? Worse, had he now dragged Remy into his struggles? Was she in danger? And if she was… would he be capable of shielding her from harm? Such were the ceaseless questions that invaded his waking thoughts at night. And from those questions grew doubts. Doubts in his abilities, doubts in his decisions… and most of all, doubts in himself. 
	“Could it have been a mistake? Should I have maintained my distance, after all? If she is hurt because of me…”
	Finally, after nearly a month of agonizing insomnia, he resolved to take action. As Remy slept near him one night, he reached out to the emerald necklace he had once enchanted to grant her flight. Still it hung about her neck, and still it would respond to his power. Into that gem he wove a new enchantment, one that would call upon the air around her to detect danger or intrusion in any of its forms and, upon finding it, would report to him at once. It was a precaution he prayed would never find its impetus, but it was far better to be secure. 
	The time for the spell to act was not long in coming. Dan had been dispatched on a solo mission, a priority manhunt for a would-be assassin, and would be away for quite some time. Remy, true to her words of bon voyage to him, waited faithfully and, upon his return two weeks later, embraced him as she would a loved one returned from war. Moreover, she did so in the open, for all to see; it seemed she’d resolved to keep their relationship a secret no more. He reacted to her in the same way, perhaps slightly overzealously, but such things were understandable; after all, now that he could now fully disclose his affection for her, why should he not do so? For the following three days they spent nearly every moment they could together, and though he seemed to have grown more desirous toward her, Remy thought little of it. And then, one fateful morning, as the two began to awaken in each other’s arms, a great rush of force poured in from the hallway. Seconds later the door of Dan’s room was ripped away from its hinges and frame, and amidst the flying splinters stood none other than Elijah Hawthorne.
	The rage emanating from the fire lord’s being seemed to render the air heavy and hard to breathe as raw fury coursed through every fiber of his being. And as he looked upon the scene in the room, his eyes locked, not onto Remy, as she might have expected, but onto Dan. 
	“YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!” he roared as he began to enter the room
	With speed the likes of which he’d never shown before, Hawthorne crossed the threshold and was upon the hunter. Gripping him by the collar with one hand, the Flame Warden tore his onetime Aerial counterpart from the sheets and slammed him into the nearby wall with enough force to rattle the fixture’s foundation. 
	“All this time… all this time, and it’s been YOU?!” he bellowed, his enraged eyes mere inches from Dan’s calm, calculating orbs.
	“Yes,” the hunter responded, “It’s been me. What of it?”
	“What of it? You have the audacity, you have the GAUL to ask me what of it? As if this is one of your trivial little games?!”
	“You sound frustrated. Moreso than usual, I mean.”
	“Give me one reason,” the Weaver continued, “Just ONE goddamned reason I shouldn’t gut you like an animal, right, now!!”
	Dan simply smiled in response, his eyes glinting with all the light of a man in certain victory.
	“Because this IS a game, my friend. And you’ve forgotten one of the players.”
	Elijah’s brow furrowed as he tried to decipher the words he’d been told. Before he could, however, there came a great impact at the back of his head. A combination of sharp pain and burning cold engulfed his senses as his world turned blurry and unfocused while pieces of permafrost flew past his head. He released Dan as he fell to his knees, then collapsed on the ground. 
	“Don’t… you… DARE.”
	Remy stood behind him, her hand still emanating cold magics from the frostbolt she had hurled, as if to confirm that he was down for the count. When she was certain he had, she crossed over his form to her companion, and he welcomed her into his arms as they both stared at Hawthorne’s unconscious form. Where Remy wore a look of pure disgust and righteous fervor, Dan donned a smug smile.
	“Very well done, my dear. Shall we go now? Perhaps a nice vacation until this all blows over?”
	“That sounds absolutely lovely. Leave this… this SWINE here to rot for all I care.”
	And so they left the room, with Remy taking special care to tread on Hawthorne’s hands with her new boots…

	There was no mistaking it. Elijah had indeed been a master-class illusionist, but Dan had long since taught himself to pierce even the Silver Tongued Weaver’s enforced delusions, so much so that he was able to do so without even thinking of it. There had been no trick, no deception, no misleading in the room that morning; everything that transgressed, as he witnessed it, had been genuine. 
	But he had forgotten one thing. 
	Turning aside such things was indeed second nature for him, but others could still easily be fooled into seeing what Hawthorne wished them to see. Particularly when Hawthorne had been given three days to craft the net around his victim; even a strong sense of magic would be of no avail in such a circumstance. 
	And as Dan lay on the ground of his own room late into the day, a cold pain throbbing at the back of his head, he could not help but replay the events in his mind’s eye, nor could he stop the words from echoing in his mind.
	He had discovered Hawthorne in bed with her. What had occurred by then he could not say, but as he moved against the Weaver, all of his anger coming to bear against this man that would make a toy of his beloved’s heart all over again, he had been struck down, not by flame, but by ice. There could be no question of it; Remy herself had lashed out at him as he accosted Hawthorne, and seconds later she had run into the liar’s arms.  And then… and then, she left, intertwined with him as she trod over Dan with the very boots he had given to her as a gift. 
	“Leave this SWINE here to rot for all I care.”
	He remained on the ground for hours. Morning came and faded into afternoon, but still he did not move. Finally, the orange light of the setting sun fell upon his form, and yet he remained still. His hand clenched around the small threads of the carpet, nearly threatening to tear them out. His teeth gritted together as he fought back scream after internal scream, holding them in by pure force of will. And his eyes… his eyes remained perpetually shut, his eyelids waging a hopeless battle as they tried in vain to hold back a flood of tears.
	Was this his reward? Had he made these choices, walked these paths, done all he had since coming to Batotia… only for this to befall him? He had sworn himself to her, and she to him… had that been a lie? A farce? A cruel jest at his expense? No, surely not; such things were the games of Hawthorne, true enough, but not Remy. What, then? Had he done something to offend her? Something to drive her away? That seemed equally unlikely. Perhaps, then, it was he himself. Yes, he thought, that must be it. He had never been worthy to have her; he’d always harbored such a thought, secretly safe in his own mind. And now… now, it seemed all too painfully clear that she had come to agree. 
	It was past nightfall when he finally rose from the floor. He managed to somehow drag himself from the towering Headquarters to the nearby cliffs that overlooked the moonlit sea, and there he stood and looked out over the ocean, as if comparing its depth and vastness to his own sorrows. And of the two, he thought, his sorrows ran deeper. He was more than broken in heart. He was broken in spirit, and shattered in soul. Remy Charlevoix had been his light in the sea of darkness that his life had become. And now she was gone. The light had been extinguished, not by the darkness, but by his own inability to maintain it. In the end, she had betrayed him. Just as all the others had, in their own time. 
	Somewhere, deep within his heart of hearts, he contemplated a leap from the cliffs. Just a simple step is all it would take, and the pain would go away. Nobody would miss him, least of all her. And yet, it would not have been right. If, as he was convinced, Remy had abandoned him for want of something he lacked, then it was he that must pay the price. And for a man so convinced of his own guilt, there was no greater penance than being forced to live on, forced to endure, forced to continue through life, failures, shortcomings, and all. And so, with a heavy heart in pieces, he compelled himself to step away from the edge and closer to solid land.
	At that moment, a great rush of air came upon him from the side as a great green light shone in his face. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, and upon closer inspection he saw the source of the light and wind to be a small Rift, barely large enough for a single person. Rifts, small randomized passages to other worlds, were not unheard of, and in fact were commonly used as travel means by daring voyagers. To have one appear so close, however, was exceedingly rare, and in many beliefs such was taken as a divine signal to enter. As Dan looked through the portal, he saw a land that was reminiscent of lands he had visited in the past. Indecision came upon him; should he enter the rift, to see what lay beyond? Or should he remain in Batotia? He gazed over his shoulder at the Blades of Fealty Headquarters, some longing present in his mind. Up on the roof, he noticed, somebody was firing off spurts of fire into the air as practice. While the odds of that person being Elijah was nigh impossible, the fact remained that it was reminiscent of him… and, by association, of her. 
	“There’s nothing left for me here, is there?”
	Such were among the last words he uttered before stepping through the rift. When the rest of the Blades would look on his room the next day, they would find it emptied, all the former contents gone, and the occupant nowhere to be found...
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Chapter 9: One Who Destroys Hope
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	"You cannot be seriously contemplating this mission!" The Elven girl cried out in protest before the company of two, both her beloved and Maester Katsura, the leader of Blades. Yet the grim nod of acknowledgement meant that there was little else than the truth. He was going to leave on some hazard filled venture, and Katsura, alongside Dan, had decided that it was too dangerous for her to accompany him. Behind her finally settled expression of impassiveness, the hunter could see a hint of frustration lingering in her emerald eyes.
	"Dan is out most proficient hunter in such matters, Remy. You however, are not. Dismissed, now." The Maester stated flatly as she looked pleasingly to Dan so that he might argue her case. However, he seemed in agreement over such a notion, as his protectiveness over his little Magi had become gradually more zealous in the passing weeks. Unease took over her complexion as she bit her lip, remaining silent as she strode through the door and out of sight from the two. 
	"You're to leave immediately, Dan. Get moving now." We're the last words she heard and the Magi could do little more than lean against the wall in despair once out of sight. This was something she had to refuse, but all the instinct in the world that she possessed screamed for her to do otherwise. 
	"Dan, wait!" Before even Katsura's eyes, the highborne girl ran across the hardwood floors of the ship, and in a fleeting moment of serenity, she dove into the arms of the Hunter. Luxuriously wrapping her arms about his neck, she gave him the taste of a kiss that he had grown so familiar with over the last few weeks. Warmth and euphoria flushed her cheeks as she stubbornly held him close and her fingertips dug into the fabric of his shoulders. "Come home soon, please. I'm begging you!"
	The hunter smiled, running his hand comfortingly across the softened skin of her exposed spine before gently ruffling her hair. "Don't worry, Rem. I'll be back soon enough....what, Katsura?" He had noticed first, but both pairs of eyes soon looked to their leader, whom, for the first time, showed an expression of utter surprise.
	"When did you two...?"
	"A few weeks ago, Maester. Please, keep this as our little secret won't you?" The Magus inquired bashfully as she swept the blush from her cheeks and replaced it instead with a halfhearted smile. "When Dan comes home, everyone will know at that moment." Glancing up to the one she cherished as even he looked surprised, an amorous smile was all that he received as she teasingly poked his chest with one fingertip. "Come home, and everyone will know you've stolen my heart."
	Nodding in agreement then, Dan and Katsura both swept away to discuss the particulars about the ordeals that lay ahead, and the left Remy standing in the hallway. Her knees trembled, and she fell onto them once they were out of sight and earshot. For as one aligned with Time itself, the future held a bitter taste and she knew it. Something horrible lay in wait for either his upcoming time or hers, and as her palms found the deck, she tried to tell herself that she was just getting paranoid or too worrisome. Desperately, she tried to remind herself of the ideal that love conquers all, no matter the tragedy.
	Never once however, had her sense of time been wrong.
	Three days early, he had arrived home, and as he walked back on board in all his triumph over his mission completion in front of the others, she ran to him. In front of the entirety of Blades, she dove to him and was caught in a blissful way than ever before. Swirling about as her dress was swept up with the wind, the boundless smile she held for his return outshone even the sun itself as he allowed her footing to be regained once again. Before all, she rose up and kissed the hunter as an uproarious resounding applause and cheers thundered down to even the lower decks of The Warlock and across the sea. In front of everyone, he so daringly swept her up off her feet, and carried her below decks as his prize.
	Paradise however, was never truly meant to last.
	What could have been thought as the worst evening of her life started with her atop her beloved. The one she had sworn herself to just a few months before as his hands dug into the sides of her waist in ecstasy. Sweat marked the texture of her skin, as a final push had proven too much for them both, and now they simply remained in a state of sinful satisfaction.
	Her lips parted just slightly as he withdrew from her, and what happened next was something no one could ever expect.
	In a violent uproar, her world as she knew it had come to an end.
	Fire and Wind both intertwined themselves in violence, and using her best judgement, she had knocked Elijah unconscious. Storming out with the one she thought was Daniel, she even stepped heavily upon the hand of the one wreathed in flame. Unknowing of the truth, she walked away from the light in her life. Her rest that night was fitful, fleeting at best as restlessness seemed to haunt every moment of her dreams. Time itself seemed to be screaming at her, as she cupped her hands over her ears and tried siding closer to her companion for the night to no avail.
	Whatever nightmare had been predicted by it had come to pass.
	Suddenly, her eyes of emerald shot open in the bitterly freezing depths of her room as she watched the rise and fall of her lover's chest in front of her. Rapid breadth hastened even further from her nightmares as she found the cause: her immortality was missing. Rather, it was there, but as her fingertip tapped the glowing gem upon his chest, the little light did not even try to play or dance as it had always done. It simply played it's normal path of travel over and over again with no difference or fluctuation. 
	It was an illusion!
	With eyes widened in horror, she recollected the night's events now that she had the presence of thought to do so. Elijah's burst of inhuman speed across the room, the show of strength and agility that was unlike any she had ever seen that the Weaver was capable of. The 'Dan' that lay in bed unpacking at this moment was a complete farce! The very thought of whatever she had done with this piece of scum was too much even for her to bear as she turned and ran from the room after quickly dressing.
	Bursting into her beloved's quarters, the sight that greeted her tore her heart in two.
	He was gone. The one she had sworn herself to was gone! And she was to blame. Her hands trembled, her entire body shook and failed her as the footsteps of another were fast approaching. There, not a moment later, stood the false clone of her loved one, this time with a diabolical grin across his face as the flames flickered and gave way to the Weaver. With his snide sneer creasing his lips as Remy collapsed to her knees in the confirmation of this nightmare, he strode across the floor and took hold of her chin.
	"Pity pity, Remy. Looks as if he's abandoned you here...well, not really a pity. You will belong to me now, won't you." The last words were more of a statement, and less of a question. Yet the only response he received was an utterly hateful glare that burned with a fury like none had ever seen.
	Everything happened in a split second. 
	One moment, the halls of Blades had been perfectly normal; and in the next, was a scene that most could not believe. In the blink of an eye, half of the guild headquarters was completely encased in eternal ice. The arch-magi's true strength and power had reawakened in all her anger and fury, and the Weaver, alongside countless bystanders in the halls themselves found that they were encased in an eternal frost.
	The next moment, the one who had wrought such wrath was gone.
	Hastened footsteps traced where her beloved had gone, using a piece of his hair and a scrying gem to quickly try to find where he had gone. Such a guide did not take long for her to find that he had stopped atop a cliff! Fear in the first thought was quickly relieved as a glance over the cliff's edge confirmed that he hadn't taken a fateful leap...but he had gone nowhere else, it seemed. 
	That was until she discovered the residue of a portal. A faint trace of energy that still lingered upon the ground and in the air, so thick that it was even tangible. Sweeping up a sample onto her fingertip, she stared at the fluctuating substance intensely for a few moments, calculating just what she should do in this instance. Rather, the answer in the end was simple.
	She needed to find him. She needed to see him again, and if he couldn't forgive her for her sins, at least he would still know that she loved him.
	Conjuring a portal to an obscure realm, she applied her fingertip into it as it were the one covered in residue, and it did not take long for the luminous circle to change size and shape. If she were lucky....she just might be able to find him again.
	If not...then, it was a good life she had lived...If only it had ended more sweetly than this.
	And so, she stepped through this door and found herself in an unfamiliar place.
	Before her stood a grimy looking city filled with machinery and dirt, steam and steel. Machinations of all kinds tinkered and whirled with various lights and sounds, but she, a creature of magic and intellect was horribly out of place. This quickly began to be noticed by others as she drew more than the occasionally curious stare, so the Elven girl tossed up the hood of her silken robes embroidered in gold and began her venture down the street. With widened eyes beneath the hood, she took in the new essences of this world, this new realm being so bustling and busy with artisans of so many different kinds while merchants sold and sought wares in stiff - looking clothing.
	Ducking into what obviously was a bar of some kind, Remy slid uneasily into a seat as the barkeep glared at her from across the polished wood. Such a glare continued until the hood came off, and he stared open - mouthed at one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen. "W-Well," he stammered at first, as the distraught looking magi stared unblinkingly at him. "What'll ye have?"
	"Just some water please, where am I?" She inquired, as her arms folded over her chest.
	"Einbroch. Y'must REALLY be from the boonies if ya don't know that." He grumbled, having hoped to liquor up the maiden before him only to be disappointed, he poured her a glass of clear, cool water. "What're y'doin here?" He questioned instead, hoping to see something past the apathetic expression the Elven woman always seemed to have.
	"I'm searching for someone, and I don't have much time."
	Standing up then as she took the last sip of her water, the Magus strode from the doorway and into this new, dusty, dirty, and rusty world. This was where her search began, and this was where she hoped to find him. Moving away from the bar as a whole, she didn't notice however, that she was being followed.
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Chapters 10-12: Into Unknowing 
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Dan Halen, Hunter of the Wind

	The city of Einbroch was one of the dirtier places on Guildaris. The realm itself was a very lovely place with a varied climate and several shining cities, but like all realms it had its underbelly; that was Einbroch. It was a dark and grimy area where the streets ran narrow and foreboding, each one of them not unlike the sort of dark alley that featured all too often in slasher films. Rats scurried along the corners of the walls and sidewalk, their dark grey fur blending in with the vile muck that had piled up from garbage and neglect to the road's repair. Any lights in the city were dim, even at full power, as if Einbroch's darkness were actively resisting their intrusion. The smell of filth hung in the air, draping itself over the buildings and the streetlamps like a horrid scarf that one is forced to wear because the relative who knit it is visiting, and the city itself seem to retch and squirm as it was traveled. Even the rain, normally cool, pleasant, and welcome everywhere, turned rancid and foul as it fell on the city in black droplets, only furthering the darkness while doing nothing to halt the spread of dirt. Not that it bothered the people; if anything, they were even worse than the city might suggest. At this time of evening, not even an hour beyond sunset, there was not an honest man to be found on the streets. Ruffians and gang members roamed in packs, searching for anybody that might be off by themselves. Angry drunkards wandered the sidewalks, bottles in hand as they hunted their next drink for the night. Some of them found it; others found fights instead or simply collapsed on the ground in a drunken stupor. Here and there a man or woman in a nice suit would appear to be alone, but if someone tried to accost them a streetlight above would go dark for just a moment, and when it resumed the would-be assailants were gone. Sometimes there was a small blood spatter where they had been standing, but very often there was nothing as the suited individual pressed on as if nothing had occurred. If ever there was a city that could be called a swarming hive of scum, it was this.
	A man paused under one of the dim streetlights, his hat being bombarded by the blackened rain as he considered his orientation. A man who, like the city, was finding himself under siege by a cloud of dark sorrows. Dan Halen was a hunter by trade, which gave him an innate sense of direction, but in such a place as this- unfamiliar, obscured, and altogether unfriendly- he decided he would be far better off finding a place to sit down until the rain let up. Tugging his hat over his eyes, he made his way to a nearby bar and pushed the door open. A glance from corner to corner as he entered told him the place was quiet, mostly filled with people minding their own business. That was good, he thought as he walked to the bar itself and sat down on a stool. 
	"What can I get for you?" came the bartender's voice as he fruitlessly polished a glass that looked as though it would never be clean again.
	"Dark cherry rum on the rocks." he replied, scarcely looking at the barkeep, "Please." he added.
	"Rum on the rocks? Can't say that's one I get called to make all that often. Sure you don't want it mixed?"
	"I'm quite sure, thank you." Dan said dismissively.
	A few seconds later a small glass of rum with three ice cubes was slid in front of him. He took a small sip, swished it through his mouth, and swallowed once he was certain nothing undue had been added to the drink. He nodded to the bartender as thanks, and set back to watching his surroundings.
	"I take it you're not from around here?" the man said as he resumed cleaning the old and dirty glass.
	"I wasn't exactly being subtle about it."
	"No, I suppose you weren't. What brings you here, then?"
	"Travel. I'm looking for a place I can hole up for a while."
	"You on the run or something?"
	"You could say that."
	"What'd you-"
	The barkeep's question was cut off by a stern glare from the man as he sipped more rum. Dan's golden irises affixed on his own eyes, and he felt like a rabbit staring down a hawk.
	"That," the hunter emphasized very strongly, "Is a question you do not want to finish asking."
	"I suppose so. Any place you were thinking of looking?"
	"Someplace quiet, mainly. Far away from people."
	"Ah. Wrong place for that here I'm afraid."
	"So I gathered from my first five minutes in this... heap."
	"You might try the northeast part of the continent, if solitude's what you're after. Bit more rural areas up around there, lots of forests and mountains."
	"I see. Thank you for the tip."
	Something outside the window drew the barkeep's attention, and in a hushed whisper he bent down to tell Dan something.
	"Don't look now," he said, concern coming over his voice, "But you're going to want to move in a minute, these guys aren't-"
	"HEY, my ear's itching! Benny, you talkin' bout me over there?"
	The door of the bar crashed as a young man swung it open very forcefully. He stood roughly six feet tall with broad shoulders, and was decked out in a leather jacket with fingerless gloves, torn up jeans, and what looked like cheap combat boot knock offs. Every bit the stereotypical gang running punk. Close behind him was a ragtag assembly of similarly dressed men, obviously the front runners posse. 
	"Too late," Benny said as he lifted his head again to acknowledge the pack of men, "Just do yourself a favor and keep quiet, okay?"
	"No need to worry about me." Dan said as he sipped his rum some more, not even bothering to look up.
	Of course, it didn't take long for the gang to notice the new guy. Everybody else in the bar seemed to shrink a little as they made their entrance, almost like giving way to the gang. It was fairly clear that they were the dominant power in the building. And, as the apparent leader's narrowed eyes seemed to indicate as he bored a hole in the back of Dan's head, they weren't likely to brook trespassers. 
	"Well, well, well," he said as he sauntered his way into the bar until he was standing right behind Dan, "Who do we have here?"
	Dan, for his part, simply continued to sip his rum in relative peace. "Nobody you should be concerned about, as long as you stay out of my business."
	"Really now?" the punk said, clearly drunk off of his supposed superiority, "You don't know who's bar you're in, do you?"
	"I would presume it was his." Dan said as he indicated Benny.
	"HA! Benny? Yeah right! Listen here buddy. The name's Axel, and this is MY bar, MY neighborhood, MY turf!" 
	By this time, the entire bar was averting their eyes. Clearly what they expected was a bloodbath, and none of them wanted any part of it. Axel, for his part, seemed to sense this and promptly pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. As it popped open with the trademark, audible *CLICK*, he licked his lips in delightful anticipation.
	"And you're sitting in MY seat."
	Dan didn't look up. He barely even acknowledged that a knife had been pulled. All he did was take a single, sideways glance toward it before returning his attention to his drink.
	"Put it away, kid. This is a fight you don't want."
	"Pretty big talkin' for such a small-lookin' guy."
	"I've killed things twelve times your size and not gotten a scratch on me. If that knife goes anywhere except back into your pocket, you're going to regret it."
	"Really, now. You come in here. Into MY bar. And start telling me I'll be the guy regrettin' shit? Don't know who you think you are," he said as the knife began to twirl and then fly forward, "But I'm about to-"
	Everything happened in the blink of an eye. One second, Dan was still sitting at the bar. In the next he was standing upright, with one hand pushing Axel's knife hand aside like nothing. Before the hooligan could react, Dan's hand locked onto his wrist like a raptor talon and dragged it forward while his other arm slammed directly into the gang member's shoulder, dislocating it and rendering the arm useless. As it draped next to Axel's body, Dan gripped him by the throat and brought him face to face with his golden irises, which started to glow with an unearthly light.
	"You want to know who I am?" he spoke softly, his voice like liquid steel, "My name is Dan Halen. I've fought in three separate wars and countless small skirmishes on two different realms. I've led hundreds of armies of men and women into battle with everything from swords and arrows to guns and rockets. I've witnessed beauty you could never believe and horrors you could never imagine. I've experienced betrayal, deceit, faithfulness, and sacrifice. I’ve been stabbed in the back just as much as in the front, won and lost a dozen fortunes, saved more worlds than you've walked on, slain thousands of men... and loved only one woman with the kind of passion a worm like you can't even begin to understand. That is who I am. Now, go home before I REALLY lose my temper."
	As the light faded from his eyes, Dan released the ruffian and let him crumple to the floor. By this time, the entire bar was watching him, and the last thing he wanted was unneeded attention. He turned back to the bar, slugged the rest of the rum, and pulled a bill from his jacket to pay for the drink.
	"Northeast you said? Sounds like a plan to me. Thanks Benny."
	A burst of wind pushed aside the rest of the gang as Dan made his way back out into the rain. He closed his eyes and listened to the air hum around him for a moment, then set off up the street toward the city's edge...
 
Remy Antoinette Charlevoix - The Mistress of Time
	The air itself was so thick with pollution that it actually made her sick. Feeling uneasy about the special little hell that she had so recklessly followed the Hunter to, she decided that it would be wise to first do what she could to blend into the general populace. Knowing the man she loved all too well, she knew that the moment he saw her coming towards him, he would likely disappear once again. 
	After all, she did deserve it for the cruel wound she had dealt not a day or two before.
	Finally escaping the smoggy air with the pleasant chime of a bell dangling from a door's handle, she found herself in the eerily settled silence of a clothing store. Shuffling footsteps soon followed as in front of her suddenly appeared a woman with owlish looking eyes staring at the uneasy girl for a few moments. Such huge eyes squinted to narrow her gaze as he studied the Elven girl that stood before her for a few silent but unbearably tense moments before she decided to speak.
	"Vat are you, my dear?" She purred in a low tone, brushing a strand of blackened hair from her bright blue eyes. "You are not from around here...and vy do you ave' pointed ears?" She inquired, leaning up to stare at the magi's ears closely, meticulously examining every detail down to even the piercings Remy had upon them.
	Stiffening ever slightly as the woman drew closer, Remy took a step backward in hesitation before speaking. "I am an Elf, isn't it obvious?" Leering at her then, the woman drew closer with a mixture of fascination and suspicion. 
	"Are you daft, child?" She asked, leaning in so far that Remy could swear that this woman was somehow denying the laws of fundamental physics. "Elves haven't existed on this world for over several centuries I believe, you may vant to check on a 'istorian vor such a fact. Ze costume ez very convincing...but you are no Elf. Vat do you vant?"
	"New clothes, I think." She began to state, gently taking up a handful of the fine silk that made her blue and gold embroidered garb. "I don't wish to risk these becoming ruined; that, and I stick out like a sore thumb. I can pay for this easily if you don't mind."
	"Of course of course. Quickly quickly then! Out of dose...clothes in ze dressing room. Go!" Rudely pushing the delicate looking girl into a dressing room, the magus quickly complied to the orders she had been given, and was soon covered in enough measuring tape to make her look almost akin to the ancient mummies of a lost civilization. Watching as the woman then darted away to return with a slew of odd looking clothes, the Magi lifted up the variations of strange lace, cottons, silks and satin and gave the woman a quizzical look with each set.
	With a sigh of frustration, the woman marched into the dressing room and dragged the elven girl with her. Not long after that however, she was forced to step out from the room and in front of a mirror with an expression of uncertainty. Did the women of this realm truly dress like this? Surely such peculiar garb was not meant for normal wear.
	"Sangre would approve, I suppose..." she muttered beneath her breadth as she studied the Victorian garb in the mirror. 
	"Vat did you say...?" Came a low purr once again from the dressing room as the woman walked out with all of her flowing silk and gold folded neatly. "Sangre? Our great constructor? The goddess? You do not speak of her so informally, less you might draw even more attention to yourself, dear." Remy's eyes widened sharply then, she had seen the source of the hunter's nightmares; surely this woman was jesting. There was no way that even Sangre could have survived what had happened that horrible day of war. 
	Common sense returned to her sharply then as she realized that this woman had zero reason to deceive her. Turning sharply to the owlish woman and seizing her shoulders, Remy searched deeply in her eyes for any hint of deception as the bewildered human stared at her. 
	"Where do I find her temple? I need to go pray and make an offering."
	"Just down the street to the north, girl. But first you must pay."
	"Of course," the magi stammered, with far more relevant issues also digging at her mind while she pulled out a velvet purse which jiggled with coins. "This is pure gold, and should be more than enough to pay for your efforts! Thank you!" Dashing then out onto the street, the Magus soon slowed into a steady walk towards the directions that she had been given. 
	As she left, the tailor watched after her for a few moments until she began to toy with the gold coins she had received. Twirling one in one finger while meticulously studying another, her owlish eyes widened in shock before she looked back up to try to find the girl again! Yet the elvish woman was long gone, leaving only her crooked lips to cracked into a sagely, wise smile before whispering to herself.
	"Peculiar....peculiar...."
	
	It did not take very long at all to arrive at the temple.
	For a long minute, she stood there in a state that could only be described as utterly awestruck at the structure. Inscribed in the lines above the temple's entrance were words that Sangre had told her long ago...and she couldn't believe it!
	"Wisdom and Enlightenment is what we should construct and strive for. Forget not the sacrifices of those before you and build a brighter future."
	Unsure of precisely what she should do, the magus slowly drew a deep breadth. Mustering her wits and courage alike, she glided up the stairway and rested her palms against the heavy wooden door. With the slightest push, the doors creaked open to the stagnant air and scent of a few candles being burned. She was not alone in her quest for some sort of redemption, as there were a scattering of others who knelt and clutched onto prayer beads and holy books.
	Walking quietly through the central aisle, she came up to a statue in the likeness of the Goddess and her eyes could not believe it! In every possibly way, she bore the exact resemblance of the one she had known from so many years ago. She had survived! That in itself must be the truth! Bowing her head despite her expression of relief, the Magi began a simple prayer.
	"Old friend," she whispered quietly so that her words were only shared between her and the Goddess. "I know it has been a long time since we've talked; but I am desperately in need of your help. I was deceived, and in such deception I shattered the heart of the one I hold truly dear. Please...help me find him. I know he is here, somewhere, but I simply do not know where to begin!" Misery lingered upon her voice then before she finished her small prayer with a few words in the end. "Please, lend me your wisdom to see the path I truly need to see so I can at least meet him just one more time."
 
The Hunter

	Once Dan had left the confines of the city, the earth and sky began to refresh themselves and become cleaner with every step. The mud-caked concrete and asphalt, although suborn, eventually gave way to grass and a dirt road that wound its way into the countryside. The air around him changed for the better as well. Inside of the industrial walls of Einbroch the winds he'd conversed with had been foul-mouthed and rude, poisoned by the smog and pollution and reeking with a stench almost worse than the rest of the city. But out here, as he listened to the crossing breezes and soaring tradewinds, they began to cast off their soot fetters and fly freely, singing back to him as they passed. Moreover, as he put more of the urban landscape behind him by the day, the darkened clouds that hung over the city receded as well and gave way to a crystalline clear night sky. Stars, tens of thousands of them, dotted the ebony atmosphere in great pattern the likes of which Dan had never seen. Complimenting them were the twin moons of Guildaris, two great silvery orbs that hung in the sky and shed their light upon the world enough to see by. The picture that he witnessed as he crested a particularly large hill and saw the entirety of the landscape's shift from city to country, the image of the rolling hills and sweeping plains bathed in moonlight... it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on.
	Second, he reminded himself, The second most beautiful thing. You know full well what trumps this.
	A pang of sadness struck him as his conscious sought to run him through with yet another lance forged of memories and regrets. He shook his head rapidly back and forth to clear his head, and then started down the road again. He had to keep moving. Three days had he spent in this world, in two of them voyaging out from Einbroch with no particular destination in mind. The road he'd chosen was one that twisted and turned through the petrified forest to the east of the city before turning to the north and passing through the large mountain range. Supposedly, if the maps he'd seen were to be believed, beyond those mountains there lay a wintery valley far from any city or conflict. It was sparingly populated, and those that did live their largely kept to themselves. Perfect, he had thought, for a man who sought only to be alone with his sorrows and lost labors.
	And so it was that he trudged onward, making his way closer and closer to that place with every step. He had to go quickly; as he understood, the way into the valley would soon become blocked by snowfall, and even the hardiest mountain climber dared not attempt the journey in such conditions. As he walked, however, he could not stop his mind from wandering. Sometimes it hypothesized about the world he now found himself in, theorized about it based on the people and places he had encountered thus far. At other moments, it chose to contemplate the various magicks he was capable of, and when this occurred he would tap into his power to rehearse them when it was practical. But more often than anything else, his mind dwelled on the past. Memories often flooded his inner thoughts, memories in pristine clarity that brought him rushing back to the scenes he recalled. The Fealty Tower, and that dreadful room with the shattered door. The Warlock, with its hardwood deck beneath a full moon. Then the small cabin aboard the ship, where a crimson dress and white shirt lay thrown aside on the floor. The oceangoing library, complimented by the sounds of steel grinding on steel, of ice breaking, and the laughter of a madman. After that, the Warden’s Tower came swimming before him, with his window and a bookshelf that hadn’t quite thawed. Following that was the Forgotten Terrace, its doors flung open to reveal the damning prophecy revealed by a setting sun. And then the volcano, its magma boiling below as smoke billowed out to ensure that the survivors would never see the victim’s passing. And finally, the Great Gate, and the colossal, shadowy terror that lay behind it…
	Suddenly, his attention was called out from his memoirs by a great crimson flash in the sky above him. Looking up, the source of the light was apparent immediately; high in the eastern night sky, a new star had appeared. It was larger and more luminescent than its brothers and sisters, much like On’Eman’s North Star had been, and it glowed with a red light that twinkled amidst the evening and set it apart from the rest of the nocturnal painting. Startling though it was, he could find no ill intent or malice behind the phenomenon. Nor did anything seem to stir at its occurrence; perhaps, he reasoned, that was how stars were born here? More curious, he noted, was how the flash seemed to have struck the clouds hanging over the city that lay multiple miles behind him. The bearers of black rain and vile smog seemed to recoil at the flash’s appearance, separating until roughly halfway across Einbroch as if the star had lashed at them with a whip. He found it fascinating that such things happened and appeared to be commonplace, but decided that investigation would have to wait until after he had beaten the winter’s wrath to the valley. And so, on he walked along the road, barely noting that the red star seemed to be lighting his path as it preceded him…

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Chapter 13: Fate & Faith
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	The northern reaches of Guildaris proved to be a place that grew in their magnificence as one progressed further into them. Civilization itself seemed to give way to nature and its unruly beauty as even the highway fell away to become little more than a web of horse trails that snaked through forest and swamp, over valley and vale and into the Advarse Mountains. Here, the fauna grew unchecked and ungoverned as it spread its leafy limbs wherever it pleased. Animals were abundant in these parts, from squirrels and field mice to wolves and bears, alongside many a magical beast or mythical monster. Though the entrance of the countryside, affectionately called the Wooded Chasm, was a popular tourist destination and vocational getaway, not much further the land grew rough and unforgiving, and the wildlife more vicious and untamed with it. Traversing it on foot and alone was more than dangerous, and most people dared not venture it without at least a horse to help them expedite the journey. While Dan was far from most people, he still had chosen to acquire a steed for himself to speed him on.
	The horse was a deep brown colored beast that, while not the mightiest of his kind, was more than dependable and, the rancher had assured him, one of the most enduring he’d ever raised. Dan had acquired the equestrian after staying overnight at a small ranch in the Chasm, where the old man who owned the property, his two sons, and his daughter had been incredibly hospitable toward such a stranger. They’d given him a bed, a warm meal, and some advice for his travels. In particular, the old rancher suggested that he’d want a horse if he intended to go all the way to the Advarse, and that he had a few the Hunter might peruse and possibly purchase. Money held little value so far out in the boondocks, but Dan was easily capable of striking a bargain. In return for the animal, he’d taken some time in the tool shed and, using some materials he’d managed to bring with him from Batotia, forged four brand new hunting rifles for the family, all of them up to par with his typical standards. In exchange, the rancher had insisted he take one of the best of the stable, with obvious exception to his breeding stallion and mare, to see him northward. It handled very much like the wild mares that heeded his once-goddess’ beck and call, full of fire and speed but dutiful toward its rider. It took some time for it to heel for him, but once it did the trip progressed very smoothly. 
	The cold forest floor passed swiftly beneath the horse’s hooves as they trod over root and rock, moss and milestone. In open areas he would give his steed leave to run as it willed, but in the dense confines of the trees he forced a slower pace, both for the sake of safety on the haphazard trail and to give his senses a greater range; anyone or anything that may have attempted to sneak up on them would find itself ferreted out before it closed to within 20 yards. With his ears and eyes surveying the route ahead and around, Dan was able to steer the horse away from any danger, whether it made itself known or not. A bear snoring in its slumber, a wolf ravaging a carcass, the faint chuckle of a wild hyena lying in ambush, and a multitude of other sounds alerted him to their sources long before he needed to watch for them. And yet, when a noise came that forced him to halt entirely, it was none of these fearsome things. It was not a roar or a snarl, nor was it the tearing of flesh or the snapping of bones that drew his attention, but a much softer sound. Two softer sounds, in fact; the first was a pained whimpering that strived to be as quiet as could be, as if trying to avoid being noticed. The second was an equally near-imperceptible noise, but this was a low and threatening growl that seemed to dare any who heard it to stay away. The sounds were canine to his ears, and yet they did not belong to any breed of dog or wolf Dan had ever heard. 
	The hunter strained his ears, listening very intently for the direction of the sounds. With his eyes shut and only his hearing to guide him, he stepped off of his steed and began to pick his way toward the source. He found it at the base of a massive oak tree, but still could not find the animals that made it. Until, at last, he noticed a large leaf had been pulled in front of a natural cave formed by where the ground had broken away beneath one of the oak’s above-ground roots. He grabbed the leaf and pulled it aside… and then swiftly leaped back as a fair sized black shape came shooting out toward him. The black shape soon revealed itself, upon its landing, to be a mid-sized doglike creature that looked like a cross between a fox and a golden retriever. Its jet black fur shone in the sunlight that leaked through the canopy, and as it darted toward Dan again the fur seemed to wax and wane with the light, as if the fur itself was naturally reflective. He dodged again, and only when he had dodged several more times did he understand.
	“Wait a minute… you’re a Shimmerfang!”
	Shimmerfangs were rarities, even in the most fantastic of wild lands, and were widely known for both their beautifully rich and reflective coats as well as their ability to take down opponents twice their size in an instant. Elven civilizations, in particular, prized the animal both for its fur, which was said to possess an alarming amount of innate magic for such a small creature, and as a companion for its gentle disposition alongside its ferocity. But this one was being far from gentle or regal… why? As Dan dodged still more attacks, he finally grew tired of the game and, on the next lunge, jabbed the Shimmerfang just behind its neck with two fingers, paralyzing it with a pressure point strike. As the poor thing landed only to fall over, Dan turned back to the hole he had uncovered; there, in spite of protesting barks from the animal, he looked and found something unheard of- a second Shimmerfang, this one white in color, gingerly crawling out from the hole and whimpering for its friend. Once it was free, the plight of the white one was plain to see- it had a front paw that was badly damaged and could not be walked on. 
	It all made sense then. The white one had clearly been injured somehow, and now it depended on the black one to keep it safe until- if ever- it healed. There was something admirable about it, how the black Shimmerfang had stood by the white in spite of, or perhaps because of, her time of weakness. In fact, he reflected, it was the exact thing he hadn’t done… Another growl from the black prevented him from falling into regret’s abyss. He realized that he needed to convince the both of them that he was a friend. Reaching into one of his pockets, he withdrew two pieces of dried meat and set them out, one in front of the white and one before the black, who he tapped again to remove the paralysis. Both of the Shimmerfangs sniffed the morsels gingerly, and then the white began to tear into hers with hungry abandon. The black soon followed suit with his, and before long Dan was laying out more strips for each. 
	“Well, it seems I’ve made two new friends out here. Hold on a second, I think I saw an herb that I can use to help heal that paw…”
	And so he did. The white still couldn’t walk very well, but the paw would now at least be guaranteed to repair itself in a timely manner. The hunter, for his part, had found himself unable to let the little things go, and so he decided to take them along as his pets. The black Shimmerfang he named Fate, and the white he christened Faith. What gave him those names, he knew not, but they simply seemed to fit. And so, with Faith riding in his lap and Fate bounding along behind the horse, the three set off again for Advarse. At the moment, neither Shimmerfang was more than twenty pounds, but in a short time they would both grow to be at least thrice that. In fact, he mused, Fate may even do so by the time the journey was over…
	And lo and behold, he had been correct. A little more than a week later, and the group had finally finished their trek through the mountains. A soft snowfall gathered on the ground, a herald for the winter weather in the season ahead, as the horse and Fate both ran through the open field that opened into the Advarse Valley proper. Faith had not grown much, having been confined to Dan’s lap for most of the trip, but once her leg would allow her to run again she would catch up to her brother quite rapidly. The Valley itself was quite peaceful; it was a place where the residents minded their own business, intervening with each other only when beseeched for help, and every man was given his own space. Of the dozens of homesteads scattered about, only some were occupied- plenty of them had been left by those who had tried to carve out their lives there and failed, running back to the comfort of the city as they did. Thus, when Dan and his travelling companions happened upon a snowy little cottage by an icy lake in the midst of a wintery wood, nobody in the region raised a hand as they moved in and made the place their own…

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Chapter 14: A Sinner's Redemption
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	As the path of luminous footsteps continued on her arduous journey, the fragile looking Frost Magus didn't need to brace herself against the wintry winds as they grew in their harshness and tenacity. Within her heart grew a shadow of hopelessness and doubt; after all, it was she who had partook in the act that had shattered his heart. Unknowing as she might have been to her sin was no excuse, the Silver Tongue Weaver had stained the purity of her intention and had left a horrific scar in his wake.
	Could the hunter ever forgive her? Was there even the slightest chance?
	With the shadows that lingered in her soul, the air grew even colder than its previous bitterness about her while the path continued onward. Even vicious beasts that lay in wait by the roadside to ambush drew back and away at the sight of the Sin'Dorei. They were looking for easy prey, not the monstrosity of magical might that strode quietly through their midst. With her eyes downcast to the ground, she came upon a peculiar scene. After Dan had found himself a Horse, he had discovered something else and had gotten in a tussle with it.
	The signs of struggle in the snow told a story she couldn't fully discern, but it still drew even greater concern. The lack of blood spattered throughout signified that the hunter was fine, but what of his contestant? Peculiar as it was, the hoof prints continued on, with a set of smaller paw prints causing a zigzag pattern through the powder.
	Stranger still, whatever he had struggled with had either pursued or joined him? Tilting her head for a brief moment, her fingertips caught a thin, reflective black hair from the purest of white. It shimmered and shone in the moonlight that was her only company upon this lonely road. These woods, this fur....it was familiar, painstakingly so! But how? And in what way? 
	Shaking her head clear of the cloud that was her confusion, the Frost Magus simply continued on for two weeks more. The condition of the boots he had been so kind to give her gradually beginning to fail as soon before long like a time ago that seemed so distant, she cast a simple enchantment over her heels to make it appear as if they were still pristine. She could not help but to smile at the irony of it all, here she was in a foreign place and a foreign land, looking for the one who had given her a home. The one who had given her hope and so much more than that.
	She was drawing closer, and she could sense it. From the way that the winds gradually began to grow, and the brightness of the footsteps that grew in intensity just slightly with every step that she took. There, as she came upon a clearing that was a frozen lake, she could see it. Painted in an almost too humorous "X" that was in the handwriting of none other than the Goddess' herself, was a small quiet house upon the lakeside.
	That was it! It must be him! Clamoring for the resolve not to just run into the house and declare her love for him and beg for forgiveness, she quietly made her way across the frozen lake as the ice grew in thickness with her every step. The faint crackling of its growth caught the attention of two sets of eyes, one of crimson and the other of lavender as they peeked over the snow dusted window's edge at the intruder upon their territory.
	One she could even hear the faintest growl as she stepped up to the doorway and took in a sharp, biting inhale of the frosty winter air. All this time, she had put every thought she had into the words she could say to try and mend their broken hearts; but now, in this final critical moment where her knuckles rose to rap upon the door to the Hunter's new home, the Magus' mind drew blank and she turned from the door.
	Doubt had reared its cruel head again. Whispers in her mind about how what she had done could not ever be forgiven, and how he would be a fool to do just that. Even so as she grit her teeth and spun about to face the door again, she could hear paws scrambling against the wooden surface, the ones she had seen in the window obviously warning their new master of a visitor.
	So, in the cold with weariness in her eyes, and her shoes so peculiarly pristine, she waited for the door to open.

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Chapter 15: Flames Rekindled
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	Fate’s growling and scratching at the window told him nothing new. Dan had known there was somebody drawing near to his newfound homestead from the moment they’d entered the trees. Such was one of the benefits of being an Aeromancer; once your air field was established, it was almost impossible to sneak up on you. Moreover, he knew precisely who it was; the ruby that still hung about his neck in spite of everything made that as plain as day. As Fate and Faith began to react to Remy’s presence, his instincts carried him from the seat at his desk all the way to the door… and then his reason caught up and called a halt as his hand was reaching for the doorknob. A thousand thoughts flashed through his head all at once, but one of them flared enough to drown out all the rest.
	You don’t deserve her.
	That thought, that idea, that one single verdict of conscience, echoed throughout his head and resonated into his very bones. The rest of him tried to mount a response; his heart cried out, his lingering sentiments mustered themselves, his memories trumpeted, and even the little gem seemed to flash in anguish against the titanic regret that had birthed his paralysis. But it was all for naught. Deep in his heart of hearts, he had long since confirmed the judgment of his penitence. Oh, he had loved her, loved her with all his heart and every fiber of his being. That was something that could never be denied him. And yet, in spite of that love, in spite of all his affection and devotion, when trials had come to his doorstep… he had abandoned her. His endearment to her had been plenty strong when times were well, but love was easy in times of bliss. “Any ship will sail on calm waters,” Sangre had once told him, “If you want to know a vessel’s worth, you have to take it out in a storm.” And when his ship had entered a storm as petty and foolish as a mere trick, he had allowed it to fall apart. He did not blame Remy. He did not even blame Hawthorne. As far as Dan was concerned, the entire fault, the only fault, lay on him and him alone. It was far from a new revelation; he had reached the conclusion several weeks prior, and by so doing his venture into Guildaris had turned from flight to banishment. 
	And here, at the peak of the conflict between his guilt and his love… his hand moved away from the knob. He instead placed it flat against the upper portion of the door and held it there, as if reaching out to her in spite of the barriers, physical and metaphysical, that he willingly maintained. For a moment, he felt what might have been the slight warmth of another hand seeping through the oaken wood of the door… and then it was gone. The dance in the ruby began to slow and cease, Fate stopped pawing at the door, and the winds of the wood told him he was alone once again. He withdrew his hand and slowly, as though he wore fetters of iron about his entire person, he lethargically retreated into the cottage, that he might resume his self-imposed exile from her embrace.
	Sometime later, the winds began to call to him. Something new had entered the area, something they had never seen before. At first, Dan chose to ignore it. What was one more creature passing through on a search for food, after all? When Fate and Faith both began to growl with their fur on end, however, he took immediate notice. The list of creatures that could inspire fear in a Shimmerfang was very, very small, and if one of them was prowling around outside of his house… It didn’t take him long to dress in his jacket, grab a hatchet from the wall, and set out into the snow to hunt it down. 
	The beast in question proved simple to find. Its tracks were as plain as day, it had walked a simple route around the area, and led to the shore of the lake. When Dan emerged from the trees onto the far side of the frozen body of water from his cabin, he found it sitting by the lake, watching the house. It was a large creature, as long as most men were tall, with scales covering most of its body. It lay flat to the ground, with six legs as a method of transportation, and a club-like tail whipping slowly back and forth behind it. In front was a gigantic maw filled with razor sharp teeth, and above that sat the beast’s eyes. Two orbs that glowed scarlet against the white backdrop of the snow and always gave the creature a look of hunger and bloodlust. Dan froze in his steps as he approached, hatchet in hand. Something was very wrong here. The creature was obviously reptilian, yet it did not seem bothered in the slightest by the cold weather. Before he could puzzle it out, however, the monster had turned to stare directly at him. Faster than should have been possible, it lunged toward him, flying across the ground like an arrow. Dan spun aside with barely enough time to spare and watched as the beast’s jaws collapsed around a tree, shattering the trunk for several feet above the bite point. His teeth ground together as he finally knew what he was facing.
	“You’re an Apocalisk, huh?”
	The reptile roared in response, a loud burst of sound that echoed across the area, before launching itself toward him again. This time, he was more prepared for the beast’s speed, and the hatchet came down to strike against the metal-like scales on the beast’s back as he swept aside. If the blow did anything, however, the apocalisk didn’t notice as it turned to strike again. Dan chanced a look at his weapon of choice. Axes weren’t at all like swords, and the unbalanced weight felt foreign in his hand. It was far from an ideal situation, but it was all he had. And as the lizard came at him again, he decided he would have to take his chances. In an instant he had stripped away his coat and shirt, the better to move his upper body, and as the Apocalisk leaped toward him again he stood his ground rather than dodge it. At the last possible second, his body exploded into motion as his arm swung the hatchet in an upward swinging motion, as if he were drawing it from his belt, and hooked it into the lizard’s gaping mouth. The force of the blow tore the monster’s upper jaw from its lower in a shower of blood that splattered his chest as the rest of the beast’s body flew by harmlessly. The hatchet’s shaft snapped in half in the process, but his quarry was dead.
	The sound of clapping came from the trees behind him and caused Dan to whirl around. There, walking toward him, was an Orc. He was dressed in the same manner as the warlords of his people, and there was a large axe strapped to his back. Dan knew his visage on sight.
	“Ax.”
	“Dan.”
	“The hell are you doing here?”
	“I could ask the same of you, seeing as you’ve just killed my pet.”
	“I thought something was wrong. Apocalisks aren’t native to this area.”
	“Indeed. I brought him with me. Rastia sends his regards.”
	That remark made his blood run cold. Had Rastia caught onto him again? If he had… “And he sent you here to kill me?”
	“Mostly. We caught the little Missy opening a portal here, and figured she’d lead us right to you. Looks like we were right.”
	The air began to whir to life around Dan as his eyes narrowed. Ax was renowned as difficult to put down for good, on account of an artifact he had found that ensured the only way to truly slay him was to do so in his own hearth and upon his throne, but he could certainly destroy him here and now.
	“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You got my pet’s blood on you, didn’t you?”
	Dan stopped dead in his tracks. The winds immediately scattered and faded away as his hand shot to clutch his chest and his breathing grew ragged. His eyes flew to the spatter of blood across his bare chest, which had begun to pulse with an odd light. Apocalisks were often called the Mage Killer because of the antimagic property in their blood. If the blood was splashed on someone who then proceeded to invoke magic of any sort, the blood reacted with their body to produce a condition called Mana Poisoning. Once poisoned, a mage would find the magic within his body turned to acid inside of him. Moreover, the poisoning also blocked the major channels of the body, preventing the victim from burning through his mana and thus expelling the poison. Crafty mages could work around it, but for Dan, who had significant power but lacked finesse, it was all but a death sentence. And he knew it.
	“You bastard… who would’ve thought someone like you could have planned things out this far?”
	Ax brandished the weapon that was his namesake in response, laughing roughly. “I spare no expense when I get to take cowardly magic users like you down a peg.”
	With a grunt, Dan reached down at his feet to grab a broken tree branch into his hand. It flipped back and forth in his hands as he tested the weight before settling in a pose very much like a sword.
	“HA!” The Orc shouted, clearly mocking him, “You really think you can defeat me, sealed and with a pathetic imitation of a weapon?”
	“I don’t recall ever needing my full power to beat you.”
	An instant later they clashed. It was clear from the beginning that Ax possessed the overwhelming power advantage, but even without the air to aid him Dan proved fast enough to evade his blows. And when evasions did not serve, his combat experience allowed him to use his branch as a defense against the great axe, hooking the roughhewn timber beneath the axe head and redirecting the force of the blow away from him. However, as fiercely as he fought, the tide of the battle was turning against the hunter. Quick as he was, his branch proved unable to land any lasting damage through the Orc’s hardened skin, and the poisoning from the little magic he’d invoked before was slowly consuming him. So long as it stayed at that level, he knew, he could safely expel it from himself later. But the strain of combating the toxin and the Orc was beginning to wear at his body, until finally the axe chopped straight through his makeshift weapon and bit into his leg. The wound forced him to the ground, and earned a grim chuckle from Ax.
	“Heh. See now how weak you are without your magic or your enchanted steel.” As he stowed his axe on his back and began to walk away, his tones turned to scornful mocking. “I think I will leave you here for now. The little elf girl should be nearby, and Rastia told me I could do what I wished with her. I’ll let you savor her screams before I end you. My, what a song she will sing for me…”	
	In that moment, a rage took Dan. He forgot about his injured leg. He forgot about the poison in his veins. He forgot about everything around him, save two items. The first was Ax himself. The second was that he had threatened the woman Dan loved. He may have been undeserving of her, but to allow harm to befall her when he had the power to act was something he [i]would not have[/i]. The wind roared about him once more as his magic burst into life. It would last mere seconds before the mana poisoning blocked his channels- but seconds were all he had need of. With a burst of speed that defied his fatigue, defied his lacerated leg, and nearly defied the laws of nature, he vanished and reappeared in Ax’s path. With the fingers of his right hand extended, he drove it forward in a spear hand strike that, driven by the wind, pierced the Orc’s skin and impaled his heart. The resulting aftershock tore the berserker’s chest cavity asunder, and when he looked into the hunter’s shining irises, Ax beheld a hatred the likes of which he’d never known.
	“Go back to your empty throne,” Dan growled, his very voice echoing with all the force of air itself, “And give L Rastia this message. You can all strike at me as you please… but if any of you mongrels [i]dare[/i] raise a hand against Remy, [b][i]I will personally scatter your ashes to the four corners of hell!!![/i][/b]”
	A final blast of slicing air turned the Orc to dust in the wind. For a moment, it seemed that Dan had triumphed absolutely. But in the next, he was falling to the ground, desperately trying to control his body as it spasmed and twitched in the grip of the mana poison. He’d used far too much of his magic; at this point, with his terrible control, there was no way he could save himself from it. Moreover, if a savior came, it would have to not only be someone with penultimate precision over magic, but also someone who was intimately familiar with his body and its channels. As he finally ceased jerking about, he continued to fight only so long as his breath held out. When he could no longer bear to breathe, he closed his eyes as he lay in the snow, his final words feebly whispered from his throat as the ruby about his neck began to flash its light into the sky.
	“Melmënya…  goheno nin…” 
	My love… forgive me…

	When next he opened his eyes, he found himself lying in a heavenly place. Far removed from the wintery landscape he had left, his senses told him this was a meadow within a forest cradled by spring. Light rays of sunshine drifted down through the layers of the forest canopy, softly layering themselves across him and warming his body that was once frigid. The quiet sounds of a slowly drifting stream resounded from nearby, and there was a deep scent of freshly blooming roses that pervaded all. The pants of his typical garment had been replaced by a robe that covered him from the waist down, leaving his chest bare. His leg, which had been damaged by Ax, was left out to air, but all signs told him the wound was gone. Furthermore, all the stress and fatigue that had been slowly piling onto him across all the years seemed to be melting away. And, as if to reassure him entirely of just where he was, kneeling over him was a woman who, though her face was obscured by the shade and the blur of his vision, was nothing short of an angelic visage as the sun reflected gently off the golden tresses of her hair as she held his head upon her lap. His eyes closed once again as he forced himself to breathe. 
	It’s finally all over, then…
	He turned his head to the side and opened his eyes again, hoping to behold the roses he smelled. And there they stood, blooming a brilliant red as he knew they would in Amelia’s true court… but something else caught his eye. Through a clearing in the trees, he could see rolling hills of green and flowering fields- and beyond them, a great city that dominated the horizon with towers of silver. His brow furrowed in thought. He knew this city. He could not quite place it, but he had seen it before. And the longer he looked, the more familiar it became, until it could be mistaken no longer. He did indeed know that city; he knew what it was, where it truly belonged… and he knew that, if he were to set out for it, he could walk for a lifetime and grow no closer. For the city he saw did not actually exist. It was an effigy, a mural projected onto the sunlit sky, a memory of a home forgotten. But even in imitation, there was no mistaking the towering spires of Silvermoon City.
	His eyes snapped back into focus and he forced his senses to prime themselves to the utmost. The robe, the stream, and the roses were all real, that was certain, and his wounds had undoubtedly been healed. But what he had taken for relief from tiredness was, in fact, the sensation of his mana being slowly, gently, lovingly drawn out of him, cleansed, and returned. And the one doing this, the woman who held his head upon her lap was indeed an angel, but of the variety bound to earth and a mortal coil. And despite the shadows that belied days without sleep, her violet eyes were still as marvelous as ever they had been.
	Archmage Class Magisters, once they had accessed their full power, were capable of crafting a Sanctuary, a realm governed by their magic that could be shaped to their will and entered as they pleased. He had been in this particular Sanctuary only once before, when a hasty escape had proved necessary amidst a collapsing fortress on On’Eman, but he had never forgotten it. And, though she had once lost her ability to unlock the realm, it seemed the meadow’s creator had once more attained the mystical weight class needed to access it. How she had found him, he could not begin to guess… but she had ransomed him away here to see him treated. The fact that the worst of the mana poisoning had been undone by her hand proved this was no imposter; it was Remy herself who had saved him, Remy who had brought him here, and Remy who still labored over him, her smile at his awakening easily outdoing the sun. 
	As he looked into her eyes, Dan fought for words to speak. He wanted to ask her so many questions, to beg her for so many things, but found himself mute. At the end of his breath, far from issue words, he could do nothing but swallow it and allow the tears to flow from his eyes. Foolish. He’d been so completely, utterly, foolish. With shaking nerves, he forced his arm to rise with an aching, painful slowness until, with a slight crook of his elbow, he bent it to gingerly cup her cheek in his palm. He smiled as the tears continued to cascade down his own face, all while his fingers explored the same fair contours they had caressed a hundred times before as though afraid they might forget at any moment. Then, at last, he found his voice. As weak and trembling as it was from his days-long battle with the poison, he knew her pointed ears would hear him all the same.
	“You… you came back…”
	“Came back for a… a wretch… a wretch like me… ”

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Chapter 16: Calamity Comes
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	Outside of the scrambling of paws at the door, all she received as a greeting was a harrowing silence. Was he not home? Or did he already know all too well of her arrival, and a chance at forgiveness for her sins was all but lost? Biting the bottom edge of her pursed lip in anxiety, she still needed to have her word, to speak upon her own half of the injury; yet would he listen to her despair? Taking grasp of the doorknob forcibly with the warmth of her touch, emerald eyes stared hesitantly into the grain of the wood as if she were searching it's trails for an answer.
	Finding no truth in response to her queries, the Magi relinquished the handle of her grasp and stepped away from it. She could sense the power of her immortality within it as he was still the keeper and guardian of such, now that she was close at least.
	He was here, or at least closely near she deduced, bouncing around a varying range of thoughts as her mind extended outwards from the singularity that was her existence. Arcane energies had been laced into the air, she quickly came to realize that it was magic, his magic. She had literally strode into the realm of the Warden of the Wind. Without any doubt, he knew all too well of her intrusion upon his territory, and yet he had done nothing. Was he asleep, perhaps? Or did he not even care that she was near?
	Another step away from the door marked her lack of conviction. He knew she was here, he must know, there was little else that could possibly prescribe how such events were transpiring. There was no room for forgiveness in his heart for her, there was only room for the consuming sorrow from her cruelty. Clenching her fist and wishing she held the determination to simply kick down the door and appeal to him, tell him that she was incomplete without him, and beg him to give her a second chance, such resolve crashed and faded akin to the greatest waves against the mightiest of barriers.
	Slowly, she turned and faded into the night of winter. Leaving only footprints in her wake, which disappeared shortly after in the wrath of a blizzard.
	Several nights after lingered onward as she took shelter in the comfort of an Inn's fire. What was she supposed to do? Nothing, it seemed to be as dread still miserably clung onto her shoulders. Letting her ragged shoes dry by the fire as she slipped her tender feet from them, the Magi stared almost hatefully into the flickering flames. If only she had seen through the illusion. If only she could undo what had been done, maybe Dan would be able to find peace again. Burying her face into her palms, softened sobs in the privacy of her room marked her misery and frustration upon the hardwood floor in the staining of salted tears upon them.
	In her hopelessness however, a spark of determination began to grow. Standing slowly and wiping her eyes clear from the blurring sensation of tears, the magi's hands fell to her sides. This place was familiar, this entire world felt familiar, yet she couldn't still quite put her finger upon it. Even the walls of this Inn drew familiarity! But why? Narrowing her eyes, her fingertips found the armband of gold that she had worn since the last moments she could ever remember. What had she forgotten?
	This sensation of raw energy that lined her palms, what was it?
	Such wonderment faded swiftly in the whispering of wind.
	"He is under attack he is under attack!" It whispered into her ear in a panicked, hushed tone. "Others! Others! Drawing close, must flee!" 
	Her reaction was instantaneous. 
	Seizing her coat and sprinting in a panicked flurry down the stairs, the Elven girl seized the horse of the Innkeeper and rode off into the wind. Frantic hoof beats marked the haste of her cadence as she tore through the forest and bitterly cold winds at breakneck speeds. As trees blurred by in the crisp air of the earliest hours of the morning, the leather reins cracked furiously as the her nightmares rushed forward to greet her warmly.
	What would have taken hours took only minutes to come upon a scene of horror.
	She had arrived just to see Dan, covered in venomous ooze, finish off an old comrade who had apparently made himself the worst kind of enemy! It was Axe! The very orc who had cursed her to live alone and in misery was here?! Why was he fighting with Dan to the death no less? Surely, each side had their disgruntled odds and ends, disagreements as well, but none that warranted this! As Dan collapsed, she vanished from existence to instantly reappear beside him to catch his fall, leaving his head in her lap as she did her best to support him.
	"Well, I'll be damned. You are alive."
	Such words bore a familiar voice that she could not forget. Slowly, inexorably, her gaze rose to see none other than On'Man's warden of the Earth. With the flat of his sword's point resting just millimeters from her neck.
	The horror in her eyes at his unveiling, and the way she held Dan's unconscious form desperately close spoke volumes as a subtle smirk casually rose up on the Earthen One's lips. "And I see that you've fallen for our traitor here. How odd....you two kept your distance back then, what a surprise." 
	He took a step forward and she froze, the tip of the blade being so cold that it even made her shudder as a droplet of blood came from the softened texture of her neck, warmly tracing a path of crimson down her pale skin.
	"You must know his story by now, I'm sure. Sangre is dead because of him. He must pay for his crimes." He apathetically uttered, showing not even the least thought of mercy or recourse in his voice. "The price for killing a Goddess is Death, Remy. You know this. Aiding a fugitive accused and found guilty of such will only sentence you to the same. We. Will. Find. You. Both. And kill you, naturally. Do you intend to help him?"
	Swatting the sword away with a hand coated in frost, she clutched her neck with one hand while glaring up at him with disgust. "You're wrong. Sangre is alive!"
	"What proof have you of this?"
	"I...I..." her words fell silent in the lack of evidence she possessed other than her word, but the Goddess was alive. She had helped her! She knew it! Yet none of the proof she held was tangible. And L was in little patience to listen to any conjecture she might have. "I don't have anything to prove it other than my word! But believe me! She has answered my prayers once already!"
	"I don't believe you and your obviously subjective viewpoint. Gentlemen, join me in executing both the girl and the man."
	Blurred shadows sprinted from the forest line as L smoothly flicked his sword. Shapes of friends she had once known darted across the pearly snow fields to stain her and her beloved's blood across the purity of white. With wicked speed, the five converged upon the girl as she slowly rose to a stand as if to welcome the Death that seemed imminent. Her emerald eyes widened as she took in the scene that should have been her demise, and with a flexing of her fingertips, a staff appeared in her hands.
	She knew not where it came from, but she did know its purpose as new power reverberated through her form. Finally, she had reclaimed her old stave in a time of desperate need, and in just a moment she rose it above her head as the luminous blue runes flickered and burst with magical energy. Reverberating in a violet light from the Dragon's horns that donned the stave's top, she brought it crashing to the earth 
	With a calamitous roar, the very world seemed to rupture.
	In a flash that lit the night sky for miles, even to the notice of the village she had just been in, the long-lost Arch Magi of Guildaris returned. The result was an insane amount of concussive force that erupted around both Dan and the Magi, slamming into their assailants, who were only saved by the hastened thinking of the Earthen Warden. Quickly erecting a barrier of heavy stone, they were still pushed back hundreds of yards, and as the smoke cleared; the scene before them was one that they could describe as little more than horrific.
	What had once been fields of pure white were now a torn, smoldering earth. What had once been a lake was now little more than a crater that stretched for a hazy distance.
	Distantly, they could see a faintly glowing form in the center, holding her staff defiantly before causing it to disappear. Raw magic still crackled and popped about her form for a few seconds longer as she glared maliciously at her would-be assassins. As much as she wished she could kill them, now, in this moment she could not. If the two could grasp onto Sangre to prove their innocence, perhaps this little war could be put behind them.
	Yet as their new found enemy took to the sword again, and Rastia began channeling a spell of his own, she knew it was time to leave. In another flash, the small hut Dan had been staying in, and the beasts within it vanished. In the blink of an eye, the two renegades ceased to exist in the immediate area.
	She left them with little more than humiliation, and the curse of her name beneath Rastia's breadth.
	Such transport was an incredible distance, from the winters of the bitter north to the warmth of autumn. Collapsing to her knees at Dan's side, the two Shimmerbeasts bound to his opposite flank as she quickly studied him. The Mana that coursed within him fluctuated and pulsed as if it were poisoned, a day she quickly came to recall the insidious beast that Axe had brought with him. The corpse had been torn asunder, but Dan had suffered a far worse consequence.
	Gently touching his form, the softened repetition of a prayer from her lips began to cause the two to shine. As brilliant and as blinding as a star, she drew out from his breadth as thin tendrils of blue light poured from his body and coalesced into a singular, giant sapphire. The gem of the sky, the source of his mana, wardenhood, and lifeblood simply hovering above his limp form.
	Lightly touching the fluctuating gem, the Magi pulled from it a foul, blackened essence. With her ripping it apart, the gem almost fractured, but with a touch of her own magic, it returned to stability. Crushing the black in her grasp, the ashes would scatter to the winds as she then also shattered the gem itself. Instead of disappearing however, the stone would take to a liquid state, seeping into the wound on his leg and healing it before becoming one with its host once again.
	With his breadth, his eyes fluttered open, and in the autumn sun, she could not help but a brilliant smile. He accused himself of wretchedness, and she denied him in one simple motion. Leaning forward, her lips found his as she drowned them both in a sea of lavender blonde hair, and she dared not release his cheek.
	"You are no wretch," she softly spoke as her lips broke briefly from his, only to taste him again with a second kiss and a faint smile."You are my promised. I would never swear myself to one such as a wretch. I love you....could you ever find it in you to forgive me?" She pleaded in the autumn sun. 
	He would soon realize of course that this was no sanctuary, that this place was all too real. The towering ivory in the distance was no mural.
	And the cut that still faintly traced a trail of iron down her neck was all too real as well.

[/hider]

Chapter 17: Oaths and Honors
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	Just as he had found his breath again, Dan found it being stolen away. The magus that had earned his affection- no, he thought, the Archmage that had claimed his love- had heard his doubts, his fears, and his guilt in his voice, and rather than confirm, deny, accept, or reject them, she had laid her body atop his and, with no more than a few words and a kiss, utterly abolished them. Contrary to what Remy seemed to expect, he did not try to escape or deflect her. Instead, he directed his hands to wrap around his beloved and pull her closer to him. The first surrounded her waist and held her lower body atop his. The other found its way beneath the golden tresses of her hair that still hung about their faces like chamber drapes to rest behind her head. She had begged him for forgiveness, and he was bound to answer her.
 	"I'm afraid I can't do that, Remy. In order to forgive you, I'd first have to believe you capable of transgression. And I was always taught that angels are without sin.”
 	Before she could mount any form of protest, he pulled her head toward him and sealed her lips with his own. If she wanted to break away, she showed no signs of it. If anything, her body responded with eagerness as she leaned into his embrace, pressing her self close to his. As the kiss dragged out, their bodies blissfully melting into one another, his hand began to drift down her face. When his fingers tasted the warm droplets of blood that still leaked from the ludicrously fine cut, his eyes opened and his lips separated from hers. There were few men who could produce such a keen, subtle cut as that, and only one of them would have both means and motive to land such an attack on her. For but a moment, concern flashed across his face, almost imperceptibly, before being concealed by a deep breath and a renewed interest in exploring Remy's delicate mouth.
 	It was nearing sunset when they finally untangled themselves. Fate and Faith thought there was a game to be had and joined into the mess, leading to a bizarre little romp in the grass punctuated by barks and laughter. Finally, with hair a mess and clothes ruffled, the two Wardens managed to sit up and took to scratching their furry friends behind the ears. As Remy began to rise, however, she found that Dan had taken hold of her hand and bade her stay just a little longer. When she complied, he took her left hand and clasped it between both of his. He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke what had been on his mind for quite some time.
 	"Remy... I made a terrible mistake, those weeks ago. I presumed you unfaithful, and with neither base nor reason... I abandoned you. The idea that I could forsake you in such a way still haunts me, in spite of everything. So... I want to promise you one thing."
 	He paused to take a breath, and as he inhaled the back of Remy's hand began to warm, as if a dab of cooling wax were being dripped onto it.
 	"Remy Charlevoix. On this day, I swear to you, in the sight of whatever gods may be, that I will never again by my own will leave your side. When you call to me, I shall answer. When you have need of me, I shall come. And even if the sky should fall and the end of days approach, I shall not abandon you for any cause. All this, I promise to keep... or let my life be forfeit, and my soul be fodder for the Void."
 	When the words were spoken and his hands lifted away, the cause of the warm sensation was revealed; a symbol had been ingrained in jet black upon the back of her hand, a coat of arms that showed a sword embedded in a pedestal with the sun emblazoned behind it. It was Dan's personal symbol, the marker that denoted his name and line. And as it began to fade into Remy's skin, she understood what had taken place. He had sworn an Oath of Blood to her, the highest vow that could be taken by one such as he. Once taken, the Oath could not be revoked, and if broken, there was not a force in the world that could halt the consequences. He had sworn himself to her once before, in the dark of night aboard a ship in secret, with words alone. But now... now, she held a piece of him, just as he for her. He was bound to her by ties he himself had forged, knowing that he could not break them even if he wanted to. And as the ritual finished, he found the strength to follow her and the dogs into the cottage without assistance. He paused for a moment outside the door to observe the setting sun on the horizon. There were troubled times ahead; that much he could feel in his bones. Makeshift weapons and firearms would not suffice for long. Soon, he knew, he would need to once more take up the weapon that shown so prominently in his coat of arms. 
 	But not tonight, he thought as he swept inside and closed the door behind him, Tonight, I've other obligations...

[/hider]

Chapter 18: Silver Wrath
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	[i]Times we Cherish, Times we Mourn, forget not the one we Lost[/i]
	Inquisitive she watched on as he stole away her hand into his grasp, much like he had done with her heart. Quietly spoken words of not only forgiveness, but also removal of even the thought of her sins brought a sense of elation; yet as he channeled magic and his warmth graced her palm, she remained silent as he made his vow.
	Did she really deserve such an honor?
	Perhaps. Perhaps not.
	Once complete and the mark faded into the pale porcelain of her skin, she held his hand close. The faint glimmer of concern that he held was all too noticeable, as her blood stained his fingertip where he had brushed it against her neck. It was a mere scratch, but the wariness in his eyes was something that neither of them could escape. 
	A storm was coming. A storm of earth and hellfire, swords and spears, of wrathful might and magic.
	They would not be able to escape it.
	Standing up with him as the two little shimmer beasts danced joyfully about their feet, she could not help but think that it was all too bittersweet. The wondrous power she had once possessed returned in all its splendor and destruction, but would it be enough? Could she harness time and slow their efforts further? Would they always have to run? Every troubling second she lingered further upon such a thought made it seem as if the chance to have peace was only a dream.
	As they moved towards the cabin, she stole a glance at the ivory, crimson, and gold towers distant.
	How long could they remain here? How much longer would it be until they noticed that she had returned?
	They did not have long.
	
	Upon white cobblestone, the sound of numerous plated feet moving in unison belied far quieter footsteps as a Outrunner pressed past the daunting figures into a room where a pair of guards stood vigilantly. As he tried to cross the threshold, a pair of crimson and gold spears crossed in front of him. One guard scowled at the smaller girl, looking down upon her as if the duty she was performing held no weight.
	"What business have you with the Matriarch?" He asked in a low growl, distrustful of the one who cowered briefly before his weapon. "What could an Outrunner possibly say to grace her ears with any importance?"
	"Human!" The girl gasped, clearly out of breadth. "There is a human in the forest! I saw him on my scouting route!" 
	The guard's eyes widened only briefly, nonplussed by the girl's struggle.
	"Were there any others?"
	"Yes! That's the important part, you idiot!" She exclaimed, regaining her composure. "He had her with him! The Canary, damn you! Quit giving me that blank look! The blast that took out half a forest was true after all! She's back!"
	Mulling over these thoughts, the Guard gradually came to a conclusion: this Outrunner was mad and needed to be discharged. Roughly plucking her up, he moved to remove her from anywhere near the Matriarch presence, even at her defiant protest. 
	"Wait. Now. Say what you said again." Came a stern, ruthless voice from behind the translucent violet curtain. Emerging from behind it was a heavily armored Sin'Dorei, with emerald eyes that crackled with malevolence. Drawn to her focus, both the guards fell to a knee, and the Outrunner tumbled unceremoniously with them; staring at the ancient sword that she held in her grasp.
	"S-She's back, I swear it." Trembled the girl, bowing her head. "I could not believe it at first, so I observed from afar. I know its her! What's peculiar is that she brought a human with her." A heavy hand plated in finely crafted steel found her shoulder and she flinched.
	"It has been nearly eight centuries since she was seen last...are you sure?"
	"Y-yes! I w-would so swear my life on it!"
	"Convincing enough for me. If your report is false, remember, I'll be taking your hand. Assemble the Knights and the Magi." Both guards blinked in a bewildered fashion as the looked to the imposing woman. "And...don't forget Murder Row. We may need some light feet. Outrunner, with me, you will be our guide." 
	Standing up and falling into pace behind the Matriarch, the girl shot a spiteful look at the Guards a moment before they scattered into the distance. What did this all mean? Could it be that the prophecy was coming true? Glancing up as flitting birds caused shadows to dance before her eyes, the Outrunner warily looked about them as the people seemed to whisper with rumor. 
	Ever since half of a forest near the Icy Regions of the northern continent to the west was evaporated, whispers had permeated the alleyways. Rumors that the Matriarch in all her steadfast determination had been quick to squash.
	Until now.
	As the towering gate of ivory slowly opened to the terse shouts of the Guards, before the Outrunner stood no less than twenty knights, each of them imposing and powerful looking in heavy armor upon their horses. Behind them stood a gathering of clever magi, and distant from all stood a handful of cloaked figures seemingly enveloped in dusk.
	A near veritable army stood before them.
	And they all moved with one order: "Follow the Outrunner."
	In the quiet tranquility of the woods, the Arch Magi sat with one shimmer beast purring contentedly in her lap. Propping a book to hover over a fingertip in the air whilst the other stroked behind the creature's ears, the pages would inexorably turn as she gradually made her way through the tome. The day was rather peaceful, with the faint traces of sun glimmering through the dusty windows. She was waiting, albeit a touch impatiently for the Hunter to return home. 
	He had disappeared in the night without a word, an unsettling fact, but not irregular. For he oft went hunting to keep his edge sharp, and sharp it had remained. The beasts of the Forest had been proven worthy adversaries, at least that was what he had told her. Unease lingered on her shoulders. Was he telling the truth? Or was he protecting her from her worries again?
	More importantly, why had the two little troublemakers departed from her lap and her feet?
	Then she heard the sound of Thunder.
	Hooves, more properly put. As she raced to the window to see the view outside, she could see it. An armored column was racing at the heels of a flighty Outrunner. It was worrisome at first, but it was not until she saw the figure at the front that she went paler shade than she had ever been before. Swiftly opening the door and closing it so that the troublesome two would not be in danger, she carefully took a few steps away from her home, just in time for Dan to arrive.
	Quickly, she raised her fingertips to silence his oncoming terse inquiry, and frantically shook her head in disagreement when he placed his hand at the handle of his weapons. Once the column was about to collide with the two, it split so that the heavy knights circled about them before coming to a pause. One, and only one dismounted from her armored horse, and marched solemnly across the short distance to stand just a few feet from the Magi.
	Slowly, she removed her gauntleted hand from its protection, and with a sharp crack that echoed through the silence, she struck Remy across the face. Instantly touching her cheek and the relentless stinging that made her ears ring, Dan's reaction was to draw upon his weapon. 
	He never stood a chance. 
	In a speed that was faster than the eye, the armored woman had a blade just millimeters from his neck, forcing him to stand still, very still as he was also surrounded by spears drawn by the cavalrymen. With a glare of distaste that would strike him as oddly familiar, just like the arrogant curl of her lips, Remy would finally speak as she cupped the soreness of her cheek.
	"Dan, meet my mother. Rae'liel."
	"Remy. Who is this...human," she hissed seethingly, as if the very word of the Hunter's race brought her disgust. "And why is he with you?" Cold pressed against his neck then, as with the touch of the sword, Dan would realize that this was no ordinary blade.
	"Mother....he...he is the one I chose."

[/hider]

Chapter 19: Into the Dark
[hider]
-
	It was quiet. All was quiet in the woods that stood but a few leagues from the Eversong Forest that surrounded and concealed Silvermoon City. Barely a creature stirred, much less anything predatory. Even the air seemed to have faded into silence. It was the calm that gave the deer the courage to carefully skirt toward the small pond for a drink. It never saw the glint of the sun as it reflected off the tip of the gun barrel, never heard the faint click as the hammer was brought back on the revolver. Dan slowly, carefully measured the distance, ensured that the wind was silent, and crept slowly forward a step, his footsteps making nary a sound. The deer had no idea the Hunter was upon it, and that sweet drink it was taking would be its last… Until, of course, someone dropped out of the trees behind Dan, opened his mouth wider than should have been possible, and screamed a word loud enough to rattle the woods for miles.
	“BANG!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
	The deer bolted, and the Hunter nearly leaped out of his skin as he tucked his feet and rolled forward. He came up with his gun ready, the sights aligned on a boy. A young boy, with hair and eyes as black as night, and a shadowy tail that ended in a point protruding from his back. His fingers ended in claws, and his mouth featured far too many pointed teeth for him to be human. He had young features, but Dan knew full well he was not what he appeared to be. The Hunter recognized the boy, which was precisely why he did not lower the gun; he was staring at Darkoda, the prankster imp of On’Eman.
	“Dark.”
	“Dan.”
	“What are you doing here?”
	“I heard you and Remy were about. Thought I’d drop in and say hi.”
	“Did Rastia send you?”
	“Pft. You think I’d ever listen to that windbag? I’m insulted.”
	“You’re not here for revenge, then?”
	“Revenge for what? Far as I know, you haven’t done anything worth my vengeance. You gonna put that gun down now?”
	Dan studied the imp carefully through suspicious eyes. Darkoda had never been one to hold a grudge or to care much for what transpired in the world; he was a trickster, and all he cared for was the pursuit of his own enjoyment. What’s more, he and the Hunter had long ago made friends with one another, somehow. If he said he was here of his own accord for his own reasons, then perhaps… Dan slowly, cautious lowered his weapon and rose to a standing position. The imp, in response, flicked his claws away and shrunk his oversized mouth to a more appropriate size.
	“Sorry about that. I’ve had a lot of our old comrades show up and try to kill me the past few years.”
	“I heard something to that effect from Rogue last I saw him.”
	“And what did he have to say about it?”
	“That it was a damn shame he couldn’t do anything to help you out. Not all of us are under the Warden’s thumb you know. You know that as well as I do.”
	“I see. Well, that’s good to hear.”
	“Figured it might be. The Princess said to send her regards as well.”
	“Princess? Molly??!”
	“You know another Princess that would care about either of the two of you?”
	“I presume Rastia hasn’t tried to sway her, then?”
	“Oh, he’s tried. Last time he showed up in Molly’s castle, she threatened to have his tongue cut out and taped to his forehead if he spread lies in her kingdom again.”
	Dan had to smile at that. The Princess of Ichime, Molly to her friends, was one of the nicest and most cordial people he’d ever known, but getting on her bad side was something even he was wary to avoid at all costs. 
	“Sounds like Molly alright.”
	“Yep. By the way, she also says that if you ever need a place to stay for a bit, Ichime’s doors are open wide for you.”
	“What, are you her messenger now?”
	“Somewhat. I owed her a favor, that’s all.”
	“I see. I certainly hope you don’t owe Rastia a favor, then.”
	“Again with the insults, Dan! I’d never get into a situation where I’d need his help. I wouldn’t dwell on him too much though, you have bigger problems right now.”
	“I have what?”
	“Bigger problems. I can’t say much on the matter right now, otherwise I’ll get in trouble for being too benevolent. Just… be careful when you get back.”
	“Hrm. Thanks for the tip, at least. I’d better get back sooner rather than later then.”
	“Probably a good idea. See ya around!”
	“Sure. Oh, and if you get back to Molly? Tell her we’re in her debt. Support like that is a rare commodity these days.”
	“Sure thing.”
	And with a cackle of laughter and a crack of light and smoke, the imp was gone. His warning was certainly troubling; after all, what was it that was bigger than Rastia and his posse trying to kill them? With such thoughts driving his feet, he vanished from the wood and raced back to the cottage by the stream.
	It seemed his timing had been impeccable. Right as he arrived at the little house they’d furnished- and that Remy had taken to calling Hope’s Renewal- he saw the column of advancing cavalry in the distance. In a flash he had bolted to his lover’s side, his hand itching to reach for the revolver in his shoulder holster. He stayed his hand at her insistence, and instead dedicated himself to studying the approaching men. They were Sin’Dorei, there was no question about that. But what were they doing all the way out here? Surely they had given Silvermoon enough berth that their presence could not be a problem for them. Then why were they coming here?
	His question was answered soon enough as they became surrounded and a woman who appeared to be the leader of the elves stepped down from her mount. She bore the same fair semblance and ageless features as her kin, but there was a wisdom and a prestige about her all the same. It was obvious at a glance that she was one of the truly ancient Blood Elves, and that alone made her dangerous. 
	When the elder elf slapped Remy across the face, however, Dan’s eyes flashed with fury all the same. In an instant his hand was reaching for his gun, but it seemed the matriarch had anticipated his actions. By the time his hand was on the handle, there was a sword at his neck. The sword itself further reinforced what he already figured about the woman; it was forged of Stardust Silver, easily the rarest and greatest metal that weapons could be made from. His Rose Sword had been an alloy of the material, before it had broken in his flight from On’Eman. To see a blade made from the silver’s pure form was all but unfathomable. And yet, for all that the sword was, and for all the spears that now leveled themselves at his neck, he kept his eyes on the matriarch. His breath came through his nostrils alone in angered spurts, his mouth kept shut in a thin line. 
	"Dan, meet my mother. Rae'liel."
	Well. That certainly explained a few things.
	“The pleasure is mine,” he spoke in a contained intensity that was vaguely disguised by courtesy. He used the common tongue, rather than the elvish he was fluent in; every instinct he had screamed that the less Rae’liel came to know of him, the better.
	"Remy,” the matriarch said, carrying on as if he had said nothing, “Who is this...human? And why is he with you?"
	"Mother....he...he is the one I chose."
	The trepidation that Remy responded with only furthered Dan’s suspicions that not all was well within the Charlevoix family tree. But he dared not break eye contact with Rae’liel to reassure his sworn one; he could see in her eyes that she was actively watching him for signs of weakness, and he was determined to show her none.
	“Is he, now.” It was not a question she posed as her blade slowly slid down his neck, barely skimming his skin, before cleaning slicing through his shirt to the chest… and revealing the ruby that hung about his neck.
	“Dear child… what have you done? Seize that pendant at once!”
	As an elf stepped forward to reach for the necklace, he was met by a fierce gale and a slash of wind that left a cut upon his forearm before he had gone half the distance. The air continued to stir about the hunter as the spearmen backed away from him cautiously, but neither Remy nor Rae’liel was stirred by it.
	“The only way you will take this gem from me,” he began, his voice as cold and sharp as steel, “is by prying it from my cold. Dead. Hands.”
	The elven mother considered that for a moment as her men looked to her for orders. The man had all the look of a cornered beast, and there was danger there. 
	“Very well,” she said softly in Common, “Bring my daughter to my chambers. And take the human to the Dark Cells. By force, if needed.”
	“I will go quietly,” he retorted, “Provided I am taken quietly.”
	The soldiers seemed to oblige him as they merely directed him to a place in the column, and before long they had set out for Silvermoon.
	Dan soon learned why the Dark Cells were called that. They were prison chambers entirely devoid of light, but for a trickling of the sun and moon through a slit in the ceiling. As he gathered from the conversations he heard the guards discussing loudly, thinking him unable to understand them, it was not uncommon for prisoners held there to go mad for want of illumination. He, however, would not be one of them. He had all the light he would ever need, hanging about his neck. As he examined the gem and its dancing light, however, something strange occurred. He heard what he would swear were whisperings, a conversation that came, not from outside the cell, but within it. When he strained his ears, however, he found that the sounds he heard came from the gem! Pressing it close to his ear, he barely made out two voices; one was unmistakably Remy’s, and the other had to be Rae’liel’s. And, as he struggled to understand them, he could tell they were arguing about something. He listened for a time, catching little through the gem, but he did cling to one snippet;
“…his execution on the morrow.”
	That filled him with dread. Dread, not for himself, but for Remy. She was one to worry herself sick for his sake, and he worried that she might try something drastic if he was set to be executed. He had to calm her, but how?
	An idea came to him, suddenly. The gem had never done such a thing as communicate like this before; perhaps his Blood Oath had established a link between them that the ruby had tapped into? If so, the connection could be reversed. He had to try, at the very least. Concentrating all his efforts on the message he wished to send and projecting them onto the gem, he distinctly felt something, some force of magic leave him and flow into the pendant, and he could only hope it worked.

	Across the splendid city, away in the tallest spire the message sped, following the invisible passageways that magic used. Finally, it came to alight on its destination; the back of Remy’s palm, where Dan’s sigil lay dormant. And there, upon her hand, scrawled in a haphazard script that belied his lack of finesse, his words came to her.
	“Do not worry. I will not go quietly into the night. Come tomorrow, all will end well for us. I promise you it will. Have faith in me.”

[/hider]

Chapter 20: Family Reunion
[hider]
-
	"The Dark Cells?! You can't! He isn't a thre-!"
	The Magi's retort was cut bitterly short as her mother's hand struck her cheek a second time. With little more than a pained whimper that did little to disguise the misery in her eyes, the Elven cavalrymen took the time to bind her wrists. Wrapping her hands together with a binding that possessed a certain resonance. A almost harmonious sense that bore a weight upon her soul. Magic cancellation rings were laced within them, with that interference, there was little that she could do without an insane amount of effort.
	She was little more than silent along that walk, only glancing back frantically to Dan from time to time to insure that her mother hadn't secretly ordered his death while her back was turned. Once they arrived at the front Gate, the girl longingly looked back to the wood a final time before disappearing into the city with the Marching Group.
	However, the very second that they set foot inside the city, the two were forced to separate ways.
	"No! NO! I won't leave him! Let me go!" Struggling with the grip of the guards, a small crowd had gathered to watch the arrival of both a Human, and their lost Canary. Breaking free for just a second, the Magi broke into a run towards the Hunter as he was being walked off towards the darker part of the city. 
	"Dan! DAN!" Frantic and fitful, she stole just a moment of softness from him as she cried out his name. Sprinting to him with the guards close nipping at her heels, she dove forward to steal a kiss that made the entirety of the on watching crowd gasp collectively in surprise. There, she looked amorously to her Chosen a final time before being dragged off and away in the overwhelmingly tense silence.
	Lead by her infuriated mother, the Magi was lead on a grim march that shook the very foundations of her soul. She knew, unlike Dan, what the Dark Cells meant. They were meant for those who were sentenced to death. Enemies of the state, or those guilty of treason. Striding up the stairwell, she came to an open chamber. There, a knife cut her bindings, and she was pushed into the chamber door before it was sharply slammed closed behind her.
	An agonizing hour would pass, leaving the Magi pacing impatiently in what used to be her old bedroom. Yet all time would seem to draw to a long pause as the sound of precise footsteps and a key to the heavy door signified that someone was about to arrive.
	The door swung wide, and from its frame arrived her mother, doing little more than glaring at her daughter.
	"Do you know what you did wrong?" She inquired calmly of her daughter.
	"No, mother. I don't. How have I sinned?" The Magi replied, with a defiant roll of her eyes.
	The Matriarch's reaction was immediate. Charging across the room, the Paladin took hold of her daughter's throat, pressing her against the wall. Tears began to creep to her eyelids while her mother trembled with rage. She did not release her child until Remy's lips began to turn blue. Dropping the Magi, who collapsed in a coughing fit as sweet air returned to her lungs.
	"You will address me with the respect you were taught as a child." The elder Sin'Dorei apathetically stated, without even the slightest remorse for almost suffocating her own daughter. "I oft question your father's decision to allow you to pursue Magic. Chasing after that sacrilege did so little for your impetuous attitude." 
	A scowl formed on Remy's lips as she shakily rose to a stand. Obediently, but unwillingly silent.
	"Why did you sacrifice your immortality to him?" The question lingered upon the air of the empty chamber, the Paladin turning inexorably in the silence to glare at her daughter. "His life is on the line at this moment, he'll be executed on the morrow if you do not convince me. So speak." 
	"Mother." The Magi replied softly, swallowing her courage and hoping to gain ground in this argument. "He is my Chosen. That man you hold down there is the man I cherish, I could not bear to watch him die and continue on my own. There is no one else that has made my heart sing like so. That is why he holds, and protects my immortality."
	Her words, while eloquent, did little to convince the Paladin, who seemed to be filled with bubbling rage.
	"Did you sleep with him?"
	"Yes. I have spent some intimate time with him in his bedchamber."
	"How [i]dare[/i] you." The Matriarch's voice stated lowly, seething with loathsome hatred. "You were arranged to be wed upon your return. You [i]knew[/i] this. [b][i]How. Dare. YOU![/i][/b] If you weren't my daughter, I would have you executed with that piece of slime. Single handed, you have brought shame on our family line! Don't tell me you are bearing his child!"
	Remy's silence at the final comment of her words only stoked the zealous fire that burned in her mother's eyes.
	"I-I don't think I am! Mother, please! Just place me in exile, do what you have to; but don't hurt him!"
	A clearing of throat behind her brought a softness to the Matriarch's eyes; and Remy only further tensed for the situation to worsen. The tall, slender man that appeared in the doorway was none other than the patriarch of her family. Within his eyes shone neither rage nor sorrow, but a great wisdom. A sense of otherness, an air of ancient prestige. Lofting the long pipe that curled away from his lips, the honey scented smoke poured from his nostrils as his lips slowly parted.
	"Does she truly love him?" He inquired sagely of his wife, the low baritone of his voice being deeper than the robes of elegant crimson that he wore. 
	"Of course I do fa-!" The Magi was cut quickly short with the rise of his index fingertip. The long digit pressing against her tender lips and forcing her into silence.
	"Not you, little one. I am asking your mother." He softly spoke, which still bore such an incredible weight. "Rae'liel, my precious gem. Did you see how she looks at him, and he at her? Speak to me."
	"I have. What of it?"
	"Tell me."
	"She does, but that shouldn't matter! She. Broke. A. Contract." The Paladin retorted cruelly, shooting another sharpened glare at her daughter. It was more than obvious that she intended for the Human to pay the price for her daughter's mistake. 
	"It is all that matters, my flower." The Patriarch softly stated, running his fingertip beneath her chin, causing her to almost melt; even in front of the daughter she so despised. "Stay the execution for a day more, and let us talk this over with reason and virtues instead of wrath. Our daughters and sons deserve a chance at happiness, do they not? The wounds between noble families can be bargained and mended, but the bonds between our family members should remain tranquil. At least for now. Let us retire, and garner a chance to collect our thoughts."
	He smoothly expired his presence from the chamber then, gently taking the Matriarch's hand in his grasp and bringing her with him. Leaving Remy standing there with an expression mixed with both disgust and fear. That only furthered with the appearance of lettering on her hand.
	A message?
	Frantically reading it as she believed that it was from her Hunter, she closed her eyes and willed a response.
	Thank the Gods you're okay! My father bought us some more time....but I don't know how much longer he'll quell my mother's wrath! We need to escape!

[/hider]

Chapter 21 Part 1: The Calm
[hider]
-
	Dan was sitting in his cell of condemnation when the response came back from Remy. She talked of danger, of delay to Rae’liel’s anger, and of the necessity of escape. From the tone that rang in his ears from the gem, she was clearly alarmed, frantic even, out of fear for him. She needed reassurance, and he was quick to oblige. Focusing his energies on the gem again, he rapidly sent her a response.
	Calm yourself, Melmenya. Your father bought us some time, you said. Let us use it to find a way out of this mess. Rushing to get out of here will do nothing but set us back on the run and give your mother further cause for anger. Take heart; we’ll find a way.
	“Ah, I see. So there WAS a link between you two, then.”
	A voice from outside his cell made him snap his head up. There, standing on the other side of the bars, was an elven male with auburn hair. The resemblance was clear to see, particularly the hair color that was the obvious source for the reddish tint that Remy’s locks bore, and it was swiftly apparent which side of the family his lover’s font of unending magic came from. 
	“You’re Remy’s father.” He spoke in elvish.
	“Indeed I am,” the magus returned, seemingly unfazed by Dan’s use of his native tongue, “Icarias Charlevoix, at your service.”
	“Don’t play games with me. Why are you here? Should you not be at your wife’s side to ensure she does not try to strangle your daughter again?”
	Icarias smiled, a bit uncomfortably, but with understanding on his face at the remark.
	“Ah. You witnessed that as well. You must forgive Rae’liel. I know she can seem… overzealous, at times, but her intentions are noble. Truly, they are.”
	“You haven’t answered my question.” Dan stated firmly as he rose to a standing position and looked the mage in the eyes. “Why are you here?”
	“Because I wanted to take the measure of you myself. I wished to see, firsthand, who it was that snared my little snowflake’s heart. And, perhaps, try to understand what she saw in him.”
	Dan scoffed at the notion. Elves were notorious for their superiority complexes when it came to other races. Some elven communities had been known to leave such things behind them, but it was clear to him that Silvermoon was not one of them. He had seen the looks, heard the gasps, and perceived the reactions that had come when Remy had broken away from her guards to his touch. However this man looked upon him, Dan knew that he would be found wanting, regardless of the criteria.
	“Very well,” the hunter said as he fanned his hands out to his sides, “Look, then. Look upon the wretch that stole your daughter. Look, and make what judgments you will.”
	He expected Icarias to take offense. He anticipated wrath, he planned for indignity, and he prepared for scorn. What he did not foresee, however, was mirth. As Icarias threw back his head, sending his hair flying all around,the walls of the Black Cells nearly shook with his joyous laughter. When the magus had finally regained his composure, he saw only a look of confusion upon the hunter’s countenance. 
	“Ah ha, my apologies. It’s just… you remind me so much of myself, all those centuries ago, that I simply could not contain my emotions.”
	“Yourself?”
	“Myself. When I was courting the eldest daughter of the Lord Reagent. When people discovered that a mere assistant to the Archmage intended to vie for the hand of the heir apparent to all of Silvermoon, they very idea was ludicrous at best and scandalous at its worst. It felt as if the whole of the Sin’Dorei were judging my every action, and that they all were set against me. I imagine you must be feeling the same, no?”
	Dan had been taken aback by the response. He felt foolish, having greeted perhaps the one string of hope that remained to himself and his beloved with nothing but distrust and malcontent.
	“It seems I owe you an apology. I presumed that you had…”
	“That I had already condemned you in my heart, as Rae’liel has? Daniel, I have kept watch over Remiliel for many hundreds of years. I know what she has been forced to endure at the hands of her own, as well as how difficult it has become for her to trust. I watched as she fled from place to place, her heart growing colder with each step. Can you imagine the pain that I felt, seeing such a thing befall my daughter? Can you fathom the agony I experienced as I wanted, no, as I needed to rush to her, hold her in my arms, and assure her that it would all be well, but could not? It was nothing short of maddening.”
	“And yet, how great was my surprise when my arcane wards finally found a glimpse of her again, after all this time. And do you know what I saw, as she trekked across waste and winter? Determination. Concern. And that fear, that meticulous fear that breeds only for those we truly hold dear. She had found someone to warm her, body and soul. I knew that at once. Lo and behold, that it should be… a human, of all things.”
	“That feeling that we were being watched… and the staff that came to Remy’s call… it was you, wasn’t it?”
	“Indeed it was. I sought to keep my discovery a secret from my wife, but, well… Remiliel always did have a tendency to go overboard when pressed. And, well… you’ve seen what happens when Rae’liel is incensed.”
	“And it seems I’m destined to see the full extent of her wrath as my final vision.”
	“Really, now… I wonder about that.”
	“How do you mean?”
	The Magus began to stroke his chin, as if he were entertaining an amusing proposition. “You are quite the swordsman, no?”
	“I’ve been told as such by my peers, on occasion.”
	“Were you aware that Remiliel was betrothed, upon coming here?”
	“It’s news, but it isn’t surprising.”
	“I see. Daniel, we Sin’Dorei have a… rather peculiar tradition. When two suitors vie for the hand of a high-born maiden, if they cannot reconcile themselves, they face each other in what we know as Endagor- the Duel of Hearts. They battle, and to the winner goes the maiden’s hand. It is an old tradition, and thus it will not be easily refuted or denied. And I happen to know that Remiliel’s betrothed is hot-headed and quick to answer anything he perceives as an affront. What’s more, he is considered by many to be the finest swordsman in all Silvermoon, having been trained directly by Rae’liel herself. But, if he were to be defeated in Endagor…”
	Dan did not need clairvoyance to see where the patriarch’s thoughts led. “ Then even Rae’liel would have to accept the outcome.”
	“You are a sharp one. One final question, good Sir. How far would you go, for Remy’s sake?”
	Dan’s response came as easy as breathing. “I would single-handedly storm the gates of hell.”
	The elf began to exit, smiling and clearly pleased by the answer. 
	“Very well. I shall pass along to our… mutual friend, Lorathen, that you take offense at his claim to your love’s hand. Steel yourself, human- this battle will not be easily won.”
	“The ones worth winning never are. One final thing, my lord Archmage?”
	“Yes?”
	“How did you gain the populace’s acceptance of your courtship, amidst their scorn?”
	“Why, I stunned them into silence with the power they never suspected I possessed. Good evening, Sir Halen.”

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