The woods were quiet that morning, save for the occasional bird calls and the rustlings of squirrels and other small creatures. That was the way he found he preferred it, especially since the voices had begun to whisper in his mind, the voices which at times threatened to drown him.

Micah sighed and picked his way along the path until he reached his favorite spot, an ivy covered rock near a clump of trees that were clustered at the base of a cliff.

He sat down and closed his eyes. Not that he was tired, he did not tire quickly, but it was simply more peaceful, more relaxing that way.

Almost without meaning to, he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

He was suddenly jerked awake by a scream ripping through not only his mind but also his ears, a scream that brought him leaping to his feet and looking for where it came from.

It was the cliff top above him, where a young girl clung to the edge even as it crumbled from beneath her.

He didn't stop to think. There was no time, she would fall to her death before he could reach the path that led up there. He reached out in that strange new way he had found, and seized her, easing her gently to the round.

She stood there, her screams having stopped the moment she realized she wasn't falling helplessly, but she didn't understand what was happening. She stared at him, her face white, her eyes wide.

"Esther," he began. "Art thou...?" He trailed off as he felt the fear coming from her.

Her mouth worked silently for a moment or two, then she raised an arm and pointed at him accusingly. "Thou savedst me--but by *witchcraft*!!"

"It is not so, Esther. I know not from whence cameth it but--"

"Witchcraft! Witchcraft!!" she screamed, turning away and running from him even as he followed. "Help! Help!! He hath witched me!!"

* * *

That afternoon...

The meeting house was packed, the entire village had turned out. It was not often that an actual witch was caught and tried, and this case was unusual, as never before had one so young been ensnared by the Darkness. This was what drew many who otherwise might not have come to watch.

At the dais sat Reverend Sheldon, who as usual acted as judge, to each side of him, the other Elders sat. Sitting in judgement of a very frightened boy.

Sheldon stood, his icy blue eyes raking over the assemblage, who promptly fell to silence. "Let the prisoner be brought before this court." he intoned.

The door opened and two men entered, leading Micah between them. He didn't resist, though he knew he could've easily done so, not wanting to risk hurting them in the process.

Sheldon nodded, but did not meet Micah's eyes, he looked *through* him rather than at him. "Micah Perry, thou hast been brought before this court to answer the charge of witchery and witchcraft. How dost thou plead? And remember ye well that God damneth all liars."

"I be no witch," Micah replied.

"Art thou not?" Sheldon demanded. "Master Larkin, stand forth."

A fortyish man stood at the Elder's command, and came forward.

"Master Larkin. I charge ye now before God and before this company to say now that which thou didst tell the Elders earlier. Say it now that all may hear."

Larkin nodded. "This morn my daughter didst come to me weeping and affrighted, Noble Elders. She didst speak of how she hadst been gathering herbs atop the cliff, as the young girls do, and of how the ground gave way beneath her, such that she almost perished, and wouldst have had it not been for the witchery of *that one*!" His voice trembled as he spoke and on the last two words he stabbed a finger directly at Micah.

"Master Larkin, I know not from whence this power came, but if I hadst not used it, thou wouldst now be preparing her for burial." Micah pleaded.

"If she liveth, -or- perish, it be for God to say and not thee, boy!" Larkin retorted.

"Be silent, Micah Perry!" Sheldon thundered. "Thou wilt not speak unless thou art commanded to, dost thou understand me?"

Micah stared at Sheldon, the waves of fear and hatred coming from him, from all of them, were almost too much. Why was this happening to him? Why?

"Thou speakest rightly, Master Larkin," Sheldon replied. "And I wouldst not have young Esther further endangered by forcing her to come before us, even wert that not against all custom. Therefore let her father's word stand as the testimony." He nodded at one of the other men, who was busily scratching away with a quill pen.

Sheldon then turned back to Micah. "Now thou hast heard Master Larkin's word, dost thou still deny that thou hath practiced witchcraft upon young Esther, and perhaps others we doth not yet know of?"

Micah shook his head. The voices in his head were worse than ever. The feelings were an ocean and he was nearly drowning. "I be no witch, nor liar either!" he pleaded again as he fought for control.

"Thou art both, we hath heard proof!" Sheldon shouted. "Why wilt thou damn thyself further by continuing to deny it? And further, you wilt tell us who else be confederate with thee in this, for thou art not of an age to have fallen into dark ways unaided. Name thou the one who has led thee astray."

Micah shook his head. "There be not another! I be no witch!" he cried out even as he pressed his hands to his head in an attempt to calm the raging tide...

In the back of the crowded room, a man sat, nearly invisible in dark cloak and shadow. "The boy hath not learned," he thought. "I knew this day would come. There is but one course left."

"Enough of this!" one of the other Elders exclaimed. "The boy wilt not speak, and the jailers hath said that beating him leaveth little mark, so 'twould be pointless to attempt such again. 'Tis clear that magicks foul doth protect the boy."

Sheldon nodded. "Aye, so 'tis." he replied, then turned back to Micah. "Since thou dost neither confess thine guilt, nor name thine accomplices, Micah, we hath now no choice save to pronounce thine sentence according to the law. But before we doeth thus," he looked up at the assemblage, "Master Perry, stand forth."

In the audience a fiftyish man stood. Beside him a slightly younger woman and a boy of about twelve also rose to their feet. The woman kept her eyes downcast, as was only proper. The boy, however, stared white faced at the Elders and at Micah, even as Sheldon continued to address his father.

"Thou knowest, as do we all, the law concerning witches. However, since Micah be yet a year shy of coming of age, it shalt be for thee to decide, Isaiah. What shalt be done with him?"

Isaiah Perry looked at Sheldon for a long moment, then at Micah. The look he gave Micah was like nothing Micah had seen on his father's face before.

"Father...please..." he managed to say, but only that before his father spoke.

"Thou art not mine! Dost understand me, boy?" Isaiah snapped. The cold anger was so thick in his voice it could have been cut with a knife. "Thou art no part of me or mine! I deny thee, and I cast thee out!"

With that he turned back to Sheldon, and in a tone so cold he might have been speaking of swatting an insect, said, "Do ye as thou wilt, according to the law."

Isaiah then turned and left the hall, his wife following silently behind him. She dragged the boy along, even as he struggled to remain. Those nearest the door could hear a low whisper. "Come, Josiah! thou shalt not disgrace thy father and mother before the congregation!"

Micah, however, did not hear that. Neither did those near the front, as he had cried out at his father's words. "Father...I beg thee...noooo..." Then his overstressed emotions gave way completely and he sobbed helplessly.

The shadowed man looked briefly at the younger brother, and something seemed to pass between them, unseen by anyone else. The young boy's lips flickered with a brief, secret smile, and then he obediently followed his parents out of the building.

Sheldon waited till the family had left, then turned back to Micah. Ignoring the tears, he went on. "The word hath been given, all shalt be done according to law. Therefore let it now be written, that tomorrow morning thou shalt be taken from this hall to the square and there bound to the stake, that the evil which hath claimed thee mayst be cleansed by the purifying flames."

Micah at this let out another howl and sobbed as the guards led him away.

The shadowed man watched and thought. "There shalt be a final test for thee, Micah Perry. A new world shall offer thee shelter, if thy heart doth possess the courage."

* * *

The meeting hall was empty now, it being night, and most of the villagers had long since gone home.

The only ones still there were those involved in building the pyre in the village square, Micah himself, and two men who'd been ordered to stand guard outside the cell, in case any witch came seeking the boy before the sentence could be carried out.

The shadowed man was completely unseen now, and stood outside the door of Micah's cell. He, too, was on watch. There were forces within their world. Dark, hungry forces who sought out those like Micah ... and himself. As he had felt the awakening power within the boy, so too, did those other forces come to know of it. If they did come then he would be there to greet them. He was not the novice young Micah was. He had traveled the Weirdness, but as the Sentinel of Light, he could not leave his homeland for very long. Micah, however, was another matter entirely.

In the cell Micah was praying *something* would happen to make the guards leave even briefly, he didn't want to have to use whatever this Power was on them and maybe hurt them. Though if it got too near morn and nothing had happened he would have to.

Just then he felt something...no, someone, nearby. "It couldst not be," he thought. "He wert home in bed, or shouldst be."

Before he could do more than think that, there was a loud noise from outside and that sent both guards running to see what had caused it. Micah took his chance, knowing he would only have minutes at most, and called on that power again, wondering if it would work on opening locked doors.

To his surprise, it did, and the cell door snapped open even as the outer door also opened. That was a surprise, as he hadn't tried to force that door yet. He froze as he saw who stood there. It confirmed what he'd felt moments earlier.

The shadowed man merely smiled.

"Josiah!" he exclaimed, running forward even as he spoke and taking the younger boy by the arm, pulling him along. He couldn't risk the guards returning and catching them both there. Even as they slipped out of the meetinghouse and through a space between it and the adjacent building--which was Reverend Sheldon's house--he whispered to him. "What art thou doing here? Thou shouldst not have come!"

The boys' unseen guardian continued to follow, putting the guards to sleep before leaving the cell area so that a little more time might be gained.

"Yes," he said, his voice smooth, yet powerful. "This world is no longer for thee, Young Micah."

Josiah only looked up at Micah, his eyes filled with determination. "I hadst to...I couldst not let them do this without trying to save thee.." Words failed the younger boy at that point and he could only look up at Micah worshipfully. As far as he was concerned Micah was his elder brother and could do no wrong, let the Elders say what they would. The Angel told him that his brother had done no wrong, making it all the more true.

"But I canst not risk thee also," Micah replied. "I knoweth not if I canst reach a place that they canst not. Thou must needs remain here, I wilt not endanger thee also."

He said this as they ran along yet another street and reached the edge of the village.

"I wilt not stay here without thee." Josiah replied. He wanted to tell Micah about the Angel, but had been made to promise not to.

"Thou must. The danger be too great. I wilt not risk thee also, I canst not." Micah bit his lip, then hugged Josiah. "Go back now, ere they find thee missing also. I wouldst not have thee charged as a witch along with me."

"Micah." the younger boy pleaded again, only to be cut off.

"If thou wilt not go back for thyself then do so for me!" Micah pleaded. "I wilt not have thee suffer on mine account."

He stared at Josiah, the insistence clear in his eyes. Finally, Josiah yielded, reluctantly. The two boys hugged once again, then Micah released him and nodded...he watched as Josiah ran back to the village, after which Micah himself went deeper into the woods, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the village as he could before the alarm was sounded. It was only luck that it hadn't already happened, he thought.

* * *

Micah ran through the woods not at all certain where he was going, he knew only that he had to get as far from the village as he could before the alarm was sounded.

At least Josiah would be safe, that is if he reached home before being missed. Micah found himself praying that he had. Then another part of him wondered what he was praying *to*, for the only God he knew had set the laws which now condemmed him. Thus the people had been taught since the time of the first Elders.

* * *

A small distance away, shorter than Micah could ever know, the Shadowed Man stood, with young Josiah by his side.

"He must be tested," said the Shadowed Man. "As you will be, one day."

"Canst he not be saved?" Josiah asked, hearing the Angel speaking to him with a voice from nowhere and yet, everywhere.

"That, Young Josiah, is exactly what -is- being done. In the full of time, thou wilt come to understand, but not this night." The Shadowed Man lifted Josiah onto his shoulder, and they moved to follow Micah. "We must bear witness to thy brother's Trial by Fire."

* * *

Suddenly there were distant sounds. Was that shouting? Raised voiced? They were not those within, he knew that much. What could it be, unless..no.

That was it, they'd found his cell empty and were even now sounding the alarm. Either that, or Josiah had been caught returning home. *No*, he wouldn't let himself think that.

He kept on, not knowing what else he could do. They wouldn't take him to the fire without a struggle, that was all he knew for certain. A struggle might hurt them more than it would him. And hurting them would prove them right. He wouldn't do that if he could help it.

At least it was still dark and the thickness of the trees above would help conceal him, that and the fact that he did have a good ten or fifteen minutes lead on any pursuit.

* * *

The Shadowed Man confused the hunters for a time, causing false sounds and leaving false trails. At the same time, he deceived Micah as well, guiding him along a winding course through the darkened wood by projecting the sound of mobbing hunters. All of the forces must meet at just the right time and place. The Cabal had done its work, and the Gateway would be open at the given time and place, but the final choice was Micah's to make.

* * * But even the strongest humans get tired eventually, especially after prolonged exertion. Micah was no exception to this. He had lost all track of time, was conscious only of the need to keep moving.

Those who hunted him were older and more experienced, plus there were more of them and that gave them an advantage.

And so it was that while Micah tried to rest for a few moments against a thick tree trunk, three of the hunters found him and began closing in, the flickering of their torches making them appear even more menacing against the darkness of the deep forest.

(The Time and Place be here and now,) the Shadowed Man thought. (I have brought him hither, to the end and mayhaps the beginning, as well. Now, my brethren. Now.)

Micah tried to run but one of them reached for him. Out of sheer desperation and taxed beyond endurance, his mind lashed out, shoving the three men away from him just as hard as if he'd physically pushed them.

At that same moment, unseen by Micah as it was behind him, but clearly visible to the three men, *something* began to appear.

A ring of light formed in the air. The air within it seemed to shimmer with the light of a thousand, thousand twinkling stars. Abruptly, the stars all seemed to rush to the center, as if sliding down a tunnel of unguessable length. The walls of the tunnel twisted and turned, writhing like multicolored snakes. Around the small clearing, a strange wind began to rise and move towards the growing vortex. Arcs of what might appear to be arcane lightning arc around its edge, spiraling around the ring of light.

"Almighty God!" exclaimed one of the men, staring beyond Micah at something he couldn't understand or explain, except by the very Darkness with which this boy had allied himself!

"Deliver us, your humble servants, from this evil!" murmured the second man.

Micah could feel the fear coming from them, as well as seeing the looks on their faces. Somehow he sensed it was not *him* they feared, but something else. What could it be? He turned to look.

He could feel the circle before he saw it, but once he saw, his mind wondered at its spectacle. It gave off a sensation similar to what he had called upon to open the cell door's lock.

As the hunters fled, the Shadowed Man stepped out of his shadows, seemingly rising from the shadow of Micah which the ring of light created.

"Thou art not as other men, Micah Perry, but thou dost already know this. Thou hast been cast out by both your kith and kin. It has been decided that thou be given the choice. Behind thee stands the gateway to a world where thou shalt not be hunted with dogs and torches. It is our true home, Micah, and the door hath been opened for thee to enter it, should thee choose. Two things I have been granted to tell thee. One," He opened his shadowy cloak to reveal a sleeping Josiah floating within its folds. "Thine brother will be returned home to his sleeping bed and then watched over, as thou hast been. No harm shall befall him except for that which he bringeth upon himself. Secondly, once thou dost bid this world farewell, there is no returning. Thou must choose, Micah. For time groweth short."

Micah looked at Josiah, then at the shadowed figure. He didn't know who or what this man was, but for some reason he felt safer taking his chances with the strange light than he did with the hunters. With a last longing look at Josiah, he turned and entered the circle of light.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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