The rain fell outside the window as if the world was dying; slowly coming to its end in a rage of madness. Lightning coloured the small, dark room each time it struck, and the thunder rolled in the distance like the screams of the damned. The rain hit the window pain, each little hit like the hands of the clock, each driving him closer to insanity. He wished the small hits would stop, so he could go to sleep. So he could stop thinking.

The young man ran his fingers over the glass window, drawing the patterns the rain drop made on their way down. Once the drop fell from the glass, he drew his hand up again, and followed the path of another one. He wanted to follow as much drops as he could, rendering his mind to a quiet nothingness, but he could not. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against the cool glass, his palms against the glass. His tears fell like the rain drops on his bare arms.

"Because he is the prince, that's why!"

The child's voice rang loudly in the morning sun, as if he did not realize the rest of the palace was asleep. The little girl beside him laughed, her voice equally high. He didn't care that the castle was asleep. Perhaps she didn't care either, or both wanted them to wake from the slumber that ceased them. The young, long dark haired man that was watching them smiled, knowing the people sleeping in their beds would be furious. He wished he was their age again, so he would be able to scream as loudly, or louder. Anything to get them to wake. He shifted sideways, moving his legs rapidly, save the little girl and the small boy that was chasing her would run him over. They skittered laughing besides his legs, brushing his armour softly in their childish game. He drew his sword closer to his body, careful not to trip them.

A few weeks, that was how long he had been here, and these walls seemed like a home to him already. He shook his head, grinning inwardly. In those few days, this palace and its people had become not just part of their army. He found he liked Lord Ceniza's home, and the warmth that echoed from its walls. So unlike his own father, he thought, who is still asleep, immersed in his own dreams. In the shinny walls of this castle, he could forget the haunting visions he kept having and the fear he felt in the battle field. He would call this palace Haven, if it did not already have a name. But, he was thinking about nonsense, as usual, and his shook his head fiercely, so he would stop. The children, Lord Ceniza's children, were starting to fight again. He smirked, looking at their comical faces.

"That was a silly question!" the boy screamed, pointing a finger at the little girl. "You ask the silliest questions! Of course the prince has to go to war!"

The little girl bit her lip, her face becoming a deeper red. She was ready to pounce the boy and kill him if possible, but she held her ground, smirking. The little boy laughed, sticking her tongue at her. Above them, the young man smirked. He was getting tired, even if he liked their games, of their fighting over such petty things. He looked away, the early morning sun shinning on the rails of the castle and giving off a shinny splendour. He narrowed his eyes, the shine blinding momentarily. Then, he shook his head, looking back down at the kids.

 "Well, he's not going to, Haeiker," the little girl said. "Because there is no war this time. That's why our father summoned them here."

 Haeiker looked up at the young man, his eyes narrowing with doubt. He bit his lip, searching the young prince's face, but it did not betray his feelings. Both children were so perceptive, their minds working faster than people gave them credit for. The prince knew their eyes revealed their knowledge, and he wished they would argue over other things. The little girl drew closer to the boy, staring up at the young man as a sudden quiet fell settled in. The man felt his insides start to infuriate, but he kept his feelings shut, swallowing the tension he felt. He looked down at the children, his heart warming softly. He smiled, his violet eyes shinning softly, and hoped they would not see his inner sorrow.

The kids hugged his legs, their eyes still looking at him, and he wished those eyes would grow a bit smaller, just so their hope would not well at him so much. He hated himself suddenly, and he disliked the feeling. He reached and held them close, allowing them to pull him down with them into the earth. He crouched down slightly, shifting the position of his sword, so he'd be conformable, and settled into the small, secretive, ring they made with their little hands. It was hard to breathe, he thought, but he brushed his sad thoughts away.

"I knew I was right, Alba," Haeiker said, folding his arms over his chest and leaning closer to the young man, smiling wide. "He is going to stay with us, and play forever!"

The young man lifted his head, feeling the eyes boring into him again. Haeiker's voice was only half convincing. He looked away to the railings of the castle rooms, and at the golden decorations on its walls. Alba frowned, noticing the small glitter in the man's left eye. She bit her lips, her eyes sad, and reached one hand towards his shoulder. He looked at her face, stopping her hand in mid-air with his eyes.

"Y-you'll stay with us, right?" Alba whispered.

"No."

The Prince stood up, lifting his head proudly. He could sense the sorrow he had caused both children, but he dared not look down at them, save he would be taken into tears. He could feel them in the walls of his body, inside, but he didn't want to cry. He hated war, and hated himself for having to bring it to their doors. But, it was his destiny, and he was fascinated into its course. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, drawing away from the kids. Alba and Haeiker' lips trembled softly, as tears came to their faces.

"Children, " the prince said. "War is coming close to your father's gates, and he will aid us against our enemies. I must go with him."

His dark hair was lifted by the wind that rushed through them, playing with their clothes. Alba walked towards him, grasping his cape with her little hand.

"Y-you will return, wont you?"

"Yes," the prince said. "I always do."

He smiled softly, his dark hair blowing madly over his face. The children smiled sadly. The young man nodded, and turned his head quickly as he saw one of the palace guards walking up to the group, his shinning helmet too bright in the morning sun.

"Rauresu sama," he said. "His majesties are assembled and request your company."

Prince Rauresu nodded, acknowledging his salute, and turned to follow him. He did not turn back to say goodbye to the children, forcing his mind into the void of the war. But, he knew their small faces ran with tears, as they bowed them in sadness.

Three solid hours, that was how much time they had been in the same room, bent over the large map, speaking and moving human wills. Much had been said in those hours, the minds that spoke being of the highest maturity and capabilities. Generals from the neighbouring countries had come to Lord Ceniza's castle, all their efforts united in order to drive their present enemy. Lords and lady warriors had also come, and the prince, who stood in the Lord's left, watched them with vivid eyes. The skilled was designers had spoken hotly, summoning the opinion from everyone present. Three hours has passed, but it seemed more like six, for battles with convoluted plots had been charted. An air of tiredness and weary souls hung above the men, and Prince Rauresu was eager to finish the last touches of Lord Ceniza's plan, so he could retire to his chamber.

Rauresu father had divided the men in three bands, his views holding three men respectable enough to lead the forces: Lord Cenize, Lord Stince, and his son. Each would lead separate attacks on Morlo Fortress. For a month, Morlo's soldiers had engaged in battle with Ceniza's soldiers, and the fortress still seemed invincible. The old lord hoped that, now that prince Rauresu and his army had arrived, their joined efforts would be powerful enough to destroy Morlo's walls. Their forces were concentrated, tightly woven under the king's military strategy, and would strike, as soon as the word was given. The king would remain in the highest part of the terrain, while his son and the lords challenged the fortress. One of the royal scouts had reported that the fortress would be vulnerable for their attack, the Morlo soldiers divided and weak, so the king had chosen to act soon. He wished to be done with the battle, and return to his own castle, where he was supreme ruler, not just a guest.

 The elderly king smiled, pleased with the outcome of the three hour debate. He had met various military and political adversaries such as the Northern lords, but her had silenced them. He had met foolish sentimentalism from Lord Ceniza, but he had tamed it into evil. And he had met disdain in the eyes of his son, sensing Rauresu' usual hatred and civility, but he had ignored it. The old king smirked as he ran a ringed finger over his cheek, listening to the talking tacticians, gathered around his son and Lord Ceniza.

"Now that we are united, I am pleased," and elderly lord said, clasping Lord Ceniza's shoulder. "We will not fail."

"No, we will not," Prince Rauresu said, relaxing from the tension he had assumed during the military meeting. "But, we must remain aware that while we are great, so is our enemy. Remain alert, and we will succeed."

"My son speaks truth," the king said. "Remain aware of our purpose- to strike as one, as a powerful one. And let us not forget that these enemies have been able to destroy our greatest attacks. We must never under estimate them."

A heavy silence fell on the group and one squires walked towards the table, upon his lord's request, and began to fold the map. Two captains dressed in the in the green colours of the western regions, drew away, ready to go to their chambers. Murmurs began to rise as the debate came to a close, as excited captains and generals expressed their joy with their fellow soldiers. Prince Rauresu closed his eyes, glad he would soon retire, but just then, Lord Ceniza walked forward, touching his sword softly, his eyes narrowing as the evil of the war possessed him.

"We will have not heard who claims our enemy's head," he said, his eyes finding those of the prince. The men who were ready to retire stopped, turning their heads at their lord.

Rauresu lifted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. His lips twisted into a smile, his heart leaping at the challenge. He felt it grow fiery, like those of the men around him, each one yearning for the devil's blood, and he licked his lips, stepping closer to the lord. His father's eyes grew wide, angered that his arrogant son would dare take such a challenge. The enemy's head belonged by right to Ceniza, yet, the lord had clearly opened the challenge, perhaps to see who would foolishly try for the honour. The king's son, full of youth's raging wine had not even been sensible to hide his desire. The old monarch's eyes narrowed, his anger curling on his lips.

"You, Rauresu sama?" Lord Ceniza said, almost laughing, but fully aware of the prince's capability.

A soft murmur went up in the assembled crowd. The prince lifted an eyebrow, wondering if anyone else would dare to meet the lord's challenge, but no one stepped up. They watched the dark haired soldier with shinning eyes, their mouths smiling as feral teeth were revealed. Their bodies, soaked in the war's wine, twisted into hideous creatures, those eyes no longer human, but devils.

"I will kill him with my bare hands," Rauresu proclaimed, placing his long finger into his small mouth, tasting the invisible blood that would stain eagerly.

"We shall see, loyal friend, " Lord Ceniza said, smiling at the prince, his eyes shinning like those of a wolf.

Alba's childish features twisted into a sad frown as she watched the group of men walk out from the war room, their faces changed by the evil plotting, their voices excited, challenging each other even by speaking. The child watched her father exit, talking to the king, their hands moving quickly as they spoke. Prince Rauresu walked behind, surrounded by the same horrid aura, and she lowered her head. War had touched the walls of her home as it had the rest of the country.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," she whispered, resting against the wall.

The wind made the chimes move in the end of the hall, their ringing like bells on her heart. Even the kind hearted prince was part of the evils that took the land like fire.

"I wish it weren't this way, myself," a voice said behind her.

Alba turned around, her face blushing, and found that the one who had spoken was standing a few feet from her, his head half bent. It was a young boy, a few feet higher than her, his hair wild but short, wearing a long cape over his shoulders. His eyes were wide, like those of a wolf, and his ears, strangely to her, were pointed, but he wore a charming smile on his lips.

"My country is always in battles," the boy said, walking closer. "And it is indeed sad."

Alba lowered her hands, smiling sadly. She walked closer, curious and sympathetic towards the strange boy. He smiled at her sadly as he turned to look at the walking warriors.

"But," he said. "We must not get in their way. Sad though it may be, we must allow the prince and his army to work their way and finish it." He turned to look into Alba's eyes, smiling sadly. "We must encourage every warrior to join the battle, for one and their glory."

Alba clenched her hands, but didn't let her tears fall, holding them inside bravely. The young boy clasped her shoulders, his small hands holding her rather roughly.

"I know how you feel," he said. "We must al go, and you must be at Prince Rauresu's side-- ready to do battle with him." There was a strange light in his eyes, but she did not see it, her small mouth thinning in resolve.

"I will go with him," she whispered.

The pointed-ear boy smiled, nodding, and turned on his way down the candle lit hall. Alba held a hand out to him.

"Wait!" she said. "Who are you boy?"

The child turned and bowed, his small eyes shinning softly with a recognizable aura. He held his hand over his chest, smiling.

"Marion."

The night air played with his long, dark hair, moving it over his half closed eyes, as his long fingers caressed the stings of the small lyre. His soft music rose gently from his fingers, surrounding the balcony with its sad melody. He was aware that bellow in the other rooms of the castle, the soldiers were listening, as he was aware that the two children that lay in the middle of his pillowed bed, their eyes staring at him, were listening. He worked his fingers slower, his melancholic tune rising in a plea for love-- sending his music to the one he could not see, to the one that lay, perhaps, in her own bed, where he used to sleep, listening to his song in her mind.

Erise. Rauresu's lips parted softly, his breath quickening as he his mind recalled his wife's sweet face. He wished he was back in his own castle, all battles finished and won, all worries forgotten, and in her thin, white arms. He smiled, the vivid image of her young, flowing, golden hair and her clear eyes; of her delicate feet and her warm breasts ran through him, moving his fingers over the strings as if they were her hair.

His beautiful Erise would have to wait for his battle to finish. If Lord Ceniza's plan worked and all the generals' efforts proved successful, then their enemy would be eliminated forever. They would be strong enough to conquer the east and all of its land. His blood ran hotter inside his veins as he imagined the bastard who had robbed him of his victory so many times. The bastard son of a weak king who had gathered a strong loyal army and stood in Rauresu's way, defacing his power. But, Rauresu was stronger, this he knew, and knew the bastard king feared him. Erise would understand that her lover had to face such things.

"Erise must be very beautiful," Haeiker said, his small voice disturbing the prince's thoughts. The child had shifted in bed. "Your eyes betray you, Rauresu sama."

Alba laughed, shifting in bed as well. Rauresu smiled softly, ceasing to play the music. The children laughed as a small blush came to his fair cheeks. He looked at their faces, his eyes narrowing in gentle affection. Both children were so smart, their little bodies full of energy. Their father was a they were, and suddenly Rauresu wished the war would not have to take place, but such things had to occur so they would learn how to live. This way his way. Rauresu wished he had a gentler soul, like that of Erise, so that he would abandon his arrogant self and play with the children who now looked at him. Yet, the kids liked him as he was, a beautiful prince with long, dark hair who played melancholic music that made his violet eyes shine. The prince knew they saw him as an elven prince from a mystic land, but he found he liked them as he watched them giggle peacefully, laughing over the prince's desire to see his wife. "She is pretty," he said. "I miss her a lot."

"Erise is a fairy princess," Alba said, lifting herself on the bed, and holding her bed covers as a silk robe. "She is the loveliest woman ever seen and her body is made of marble."

"Marble?" Haeiker said, laughing. Rauresu frowned as he stood and walked to the balcony rail, resting his arms on the rock. His eyes gazed towards the direction of his land, his mind struggling to find his castle.

"Is she taller than you?" Alba said. She came to stand by the prince, looking out at the gardens.

Rauresu laughed, amazed by the children's bold questions. They did not realize the seriousness of the night or the reality concerning the prince that stood close to them. He shook his head.

"No," he said. "She is smaller, but I like her that way."

"You should bring her with you to the war," Haeiker said, pulling off the covers and messing with them as he snuggled into the prince's bed. "Then you wouldn't miss her so much."

Rauresu blinked, his smile fading as the vision of Erise grew dim, her smile becoming sad. "No," he said. "She is safe where she is, in our castle, away from the cruel reality this war is. She shouldn't see me this way-"

"That's why we're ending this war soon!" Alba yelled, lifting her arms in excitement.

Rauresu's eyes narrowed dangerously, looking down at her sharply. He didn't like the way she had spoken. Haeiker grinned, drawing up a fist at an imaginary enemy. The prince grew cold, his mind beginning to hurt.

"Rauresu sama," Alba said. "When you go tomorrow, we'll be with you ready to die with you and father."

"Yes!" Haeiker yelled, grinning wider as he jumped in happiness. "I always wanted to fight with my father."

"Stop this," Rauresu said.

Both children fell silent, staring with wide eyes at the prince. The young dark haired prince clenched his hands by his side, his body shaken by a soft shiver. His eyes looked down at them with anger, his pupils slits inside.

"No such thing," he said, forcing himself to calm down. "You will remain here and stay in your rooms, safe."

Alba lowered her head. "Cant' we help you too?"

"Yes," Rauresu said. "By staying in the castle, waiting for us to return. After we have destroyed our enemies, your father and all the soldiers will return in victory and glory."

"I wish we could fight too." Haeiker lowered his head sadly.

"Will we be safe here?" Alba said, gripping the prince's gown. Rauresu bent down, and caressed her cheek.

"Yes," he said in hardly a whisper. "Our scouts, men who we trust, have reported that tomorrow the attack shall be focussed in the enemy's castle. All of their forces will be there, where we will find them and destroy them in one blow."

Alba smiled, the moon glittering on two silent tears that fell down her cheeks. She held him, her small hands gripping his long, dark hair with the love of a daughter. Haeiker buried himself in the prince's pillow, not wanting anyone to see his own tears. Rauresu lifted Alba in his arms, carrying her towards her brother. He sat at the edge of his bed, frowning sadly.

"Children," he said. "Sometimes the greatest battles are fought by waiting. The best deed you can do is wish your father, tomorrow as he goes to the battle field, a glorious battle, and stand by him spiritually." The prince looked away, his violet eyes gazing at the distance. "And wait for him to return."

The children snivelled, smiling over their sadness.

"Tomorrow," Rauresu said. "All will be over."

Alba grinned softly, kicking her brother with her bare foot so he would stop pretending not to be crying. Rauresu smiled softly, his eyes narrowing lovingly, yet secretly. One day, he thought, Erise and him would bare children that must also remain in their beds while he went off into unknown battlefields. Someday.

"Now," he said, rising with a serious look in his eyes. "I must sleep, for tomorrow is a hard day for all of us."

The children laughed, scampering out of bed, half dropping all his covers and pillows as they got off. Haeiker pushed his sister towards the door, knowing that he must act manly in the absence of his father. The girl smiled, rushing outside into the hall and running in childish glee towards her father's chambers, which were down the hall.

"Let's go say goodnight to papa," she called out to her brother excitedly. "Haeiker!"

The prince walked to the mirror on the wall, smiling to himself. He no longer mattered to them, but their father and hero. He felt a sad touch in his heart, but smiled at his reflection. Alba's brother turned around one last time before he joined his sister as Rauresu unbuttoned his robe to undress. The prince met the child's small eyes.

"Dream with Erise."

A small, beautiful smile passed through the prince's eyes as the child closed the door and ran to join his sister. He heard the kids' innocent, noisy feet as they rushed to their father's room, no doubt taking the old man by surprise. He let his naked body slip under the warm covers. The angelical face of Erise smiled at him, from his tired dream, as his mind surrendered to sleep.

The demon child smiled, his eyes narrowing softly in evil glee. He ran a hand over the quiet wolf that stood beside him, snuggling his small face in its pelt. The animal nuzzled the child's head.

"Very well, my lord," Marion whispered. "Let the children stay while you go off to our war." His lethal smile widened, his eyes glittering with twisted, insane happiness. "Kereverus," he spoke to his wolf companion. "Let them stay here, safe."

The elven demon laughed softly, running a small finger over the glass mirror where the vision of Rauresu's sleeping body shone faintly.

"Dream of your beloved Erise," Marion whispered, his eyes narrowing into slits of hatred, his smile twisting in a thin, cold line. "Dream."

"Devil! Kill the devil!"

Prince Rauresu cursed as his horse turned its head left and right, its mind out of control. He pulled on the reins as it groaned its last breaths, as the arrows that pierced it dug themselves deeper into its skin. The prince's eyes widened as he felt the animal's hot blood spray on his face as it jerked backwards and he fell from it, hurled into the mud. He yelled and brought his sword out of his scabbard, gritting his teeth as the enemy soldiers drew nearer, their arrows ready. The dark haired prince heard the arrows hit a mark near him, barely missing him. He looked up quickly, raising his blade to stop the man that rushed at him with eyes red with fury.

The enemy's body fell by his legs, groaning, as the prince cut away at it, turning sideways to cut into the others that approached. The enemy soldiers drew back suddenly as the falling lighting silhouetted the body of the young warrior against the dark skies, sword, dripping with blood, before his body, his feral eyes narrowing. The rain fell sideways, in madness, as the wind shifted direction.

Gritting his teeth, and summoning his courage, the leader of the small group ran forward, the wind, rain, and his own hair entangling him in frenzy. His followers ran after him, attacking the prince with a ferocity he had not expected. Rauresu screamed, his limbs receiving too many blows. His body and sword twisted quickly, caught in the spinning madness of the rain, wind, and the evil of the war. The dance they performed in fury sucked the lives of the brave enemy soldiers that had killed his horse, and had defied him. He groaned as their weapons cut his body, his arms bleeding savagely.

"Damn you, devil."

Prince Rauresu closed his eyes, as the man's head flew aside by the power of his sword. He opened them again, the demonic glaze that had come over them spilling silently , as he rushed forward, running over the dead bodies, dashing forward in the direction he hoped would lead to the master of these warriors. He felt his body groan, no longer aware of why he he was fighting. He was only aware of the coming enemies, like a horde of wasps, stinging his body with arrows and their blood. He was not aware of the amount of wounds his body had received, of the amount of blood that covered his chest. He was only aware of the enemy fighters at both sides, of his people's groans and yells as they cut their way to the fortress beyond the battle field, of the broken spears and swords. He kept running, aware of the many warriors, both his and the enemy's, that fell by his feet, at his sword, and theirs. Yet --the fortress loomed before him, its dark monstrosity silhouetted against the darkness, in the middle of the madness. Prince Rauresu looked at it, eyes narrowed against the blowing rain, his lips tasting blood.

Rauresu's body sagged sideways, his hand clutching his left shoulder, where he was wounded. He met other enemy soldiers, whose bodies found their ends in his sword, and he felt his legs buckle underneath him, sending him crashing to the mud. He lifted his head in a fury, his dark eyes wide, summoning his strength so he could stand again, but it had abandoned him. He lowered his head, his fingers burying themselves into the mud that threatened to swallow him, feeling his battered body lose its vitality. He moaned, listening to the screams of the men that fell, dead or wounded, by his side. He heard the voice of his father, commanding the army forward. He heard the curses from his foes, challenging him with their shrieks, yet he couldn't see anything. A horrible, thick, viscous mist had settled over the battlefield. He could see nothing in its thickness, only hear the indescribable yells of war.

Prince Rauresu gritted his teeth, his eyes clouded in the dense sheet of mist, and struggled to stand, leaning heavily on his left leg, frail after his horse had dropped him.

"What evil is this," he said, moving slowly, "that doesn't even allow me to see?"

Rauresu gasped, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to see, to recognize the rushing, dark figures that surrounded him. He thought he heard laughter coming from the men that surrounded him, from the fallen, dead horses of war, and the fortress. He turned, his legs quavering, as he thought he heard a single, shrill voice, the laughter of the Lord.

"You do not fight fair!" Rauresu screamed, slashing at the mist, hoping he'd cut through any of his enemies, but his movements were sloppy, and had no effect. He screamed, dragging his body forward, angry like a demon at the mist that kept growing, enfolding the fire of the torches of his soldiers and the spears of the others. The rain beat at his face, the wind blew through his hair in a mad frenzy.

"Rauresu sama!"

Prince Rauresu gasped, gripping his sword with both hands, and raising it before his chest. His ears struggled to make out the voice, it sounded old and frail --like a groan almost. The prince stepped forward, ready for the attack that would come from the horrid mist.

"Rauresu s-sama..."

A hand gripped his muddy boot, and he stopped, staring down at the frail hand gloved and covered in blood. The prince's heart stopped as he recognized the royal ring in that hand.

"Ceniza sama!"

The old man smiled, glad that he had recognized him. Rauresu bent down, grabbing the old by his shoulders and helping him stand. Groaning, the old man leaned on the young prince. The mud and rain threatened to swallow them.

"Dismal outcome, my lord," Rauresu said, almost an apology, his voice quavering. He felt the eyes of the old man see through him, and his hands held the old body tighter. "Our allies are out-numbered, even even though the informer assured us the fortress would be unarmed."

"Traitors," Lord Ceniza whispered, "we are surrounded by traitors."

"In this mist, I can hardly see how the rest are doing," Rauresu said, helping the old man walk, their feet caught in the wild mud. "But it seems the enemy cannot see us either. they have not attacked me, nor do they move upon us now."

"It's indeed strange," Lord Ceniza said. "It's as if we were alone..."

Prince Rauresu lifted his head, suddenly catching a frail noise --unheard before. He hushed the lord, squeezing his hand softly, and listened, ready. He lowered his head, listening intently, his weapon ready. He heard the sound of a bow string growing tense. He gasped, swinging around as an arrow flew at him, coming at him from the back, and turned to defend himself.

"He saw no one, the mist covering the bodies, and gasped as he heard the old lord scream, his voice a horrible groan in the darkness.

"Lord Ceniza!"

But it was too late. An unseen soldier had shot an arrow, straight at the lord's heart, catching him point blank. Prince Rauresu could not stop the one that caught him in his shoulder. He groaned and let a sob escape him as he came closer to the old soldier, dragging the man from the mud.

The archer laughed as he was swallowed by the mist, but Rauresu could not see how he left, the mist choking him as it filled his lungs and the rain increased, blinding him. He cursed, clutching the old man closer to him, and ripping the arrow from his chest. The rain washed away the tears that fell down his cheeks, and the blood in his lips and his shoulder. The old man coughed blood, gripping the prince feebly and pulling him closer to him. Prince Rauresu could hardly see, the rain like a veil over his sight, and his own tears blinding him.

"What's this, old boy?" Lord Ceniza said. "Tears?"

"Forgive me, my lord," Rauresu said, lowering his head. "I could not stop this --I could not kill our foe. I could not prove myself the hero everyone says I am, because I--"

"Silence, my prince."

The old man gasped softly and raised his hands, freeing one from its black glove. The prince watched silently, and wiped his tears away. A loud cry echoed from beyond, mocking the two men, but he would not leave the old man's side. He wished he could save him, but he knew this was beyond his hands.

"Tricked," the old man said. "Lied to and fooled. This is a horrend way to die, and I feel my soul will be in pain for a while."

"Do not say such things, my lord."

"No, Rauresu," Lord Ceniza said. "It is as if some force was hovering over us, after you, my good friend. After you."

prince Rauresu's heart felt a touch as cold as death, gripping its smallness and squeezing.

"Evil... around us, my prince," Lord Ceniza whispered. "I feel it now, and I see it now --in the mist. Can you not see it, my lord?"

Rauresu's eyes narrowed slowly, closing gently as he held the old soldier and father nearer to his body, feeling the small life fly away from his hands. He felt his heart desperate, his hands crying to hold on to that life, filled with longing to stop this injustice. He closed his eyes as Lord Ceniza touched his cheek with his ungloved, bloody hand. The old man's fingers ran over his lips, christening him in its last death wishes.

The prince's soul gasped, sensing the touch of something awful grasp his insides. An eerieness settled over him as the wind blew through his hair, rustling his long, silver cape behind him. He felt a strange feeling, an evil omen, a demonic, invisible hand touch his soul.

Then, the old man's hand fell, tracing an ugly streak of red blood blood over his chin.

The cold rain beat at his face as he reined in the horse he had rode back to the castle. The gates swung sideways, the hinges making a soft screeching noise that hurt his ears. Behind him --all his men and the soldiers had died at the fortress. Unlike what they'd expected, the dark fortress had been heavily guarded, waiting horribly for the soldiers with open arms. The army they had met there had been enormous, and had crushed the leaders --every one of them --Prince Rauresu haad assembled. The prince himself was defeated, and his father --he knew he had run away with the many others that rushed away from the jaws of death. Death had arrived in that eerie mist, that swallowed such a great army and the lord of the castle where he now stood. He dismounted and held the horse's reins in his left hand, walking forward, his breath lost in his lungs-- and crossed the gates.

Prince Rauresu gasped, his hand falling limply at his sides, as he raised his head and stared through the mist --at the burnt castle.

Burnt. Everything was burnt and lay in ashes in the front, the windows consumed by the fire, the garden, the doors, even the stones. Everything eaten by a fire powerful like the one in Hell.

The prince ran up the burnt cobbles, up to the small garden --his heart broken. He gasped as he crushed hands and legs, bones eaten by fire, of the gardener, maids, and ladies of court. He felt his breath quicken, his eyes wide. He couldn't see anything in the dense mist, but he felt like the only man alive in its horrid blindness. The only man left...

With a trembling hand, he swung the door to his room open, his eyes half closed and there he found them. Both children standing against the bed, looking up at him --as if they expected him-- their hands outstretched to hold him. Their little bodies were burnt, dark and crumpled by the tongues of fire.

Prince Rauresu stood in the room, his hand releasing the door and falling limply to his side, his hair blowing in the wind that now ran feebly in the room, the ashes flying into his face. He felt his chest rise with his wracking sobs, but he was silent like a statue --silent like the children before him, like the soldiers in the battlefield --silent like the ladies in the garden, and like Lord Ceniza in the mud. And the rain fell in through the shattered roof, falling over his still body as the wind painted him with the ashes of the castle and human bones --as the tears fell over his white face, down to his red lips.

And he heard the sound of a single wolf --like a faint whisper-- coming in from the burnt forest outside and travelling over the charred remains of the castle.
 
 
 
 

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© December 15th, 1997 Team Bonet. Seimaden is © 1994 You Higuri and Asuka DX. Please do not copy this without our permission. Thank ye so much for reading.