Author’s Note: I’m trying to keep the updates in the story consistent since I know that even though several of you readers approve of the revision, you’re also impatient for the chapters to come out and see how things will turn out. So with that said, I’ll try to update at least once a month…….or so. Anyway, enough of my babbling, continue on to the story!

Light clouds of incense drifted quietly through the halls of Osiris, the candles that lit the alters bringing a soft glow to the halls glistening in the morning sun. Pillars of white and silver lined the walkway to the alter, the flickering flames creating dancing shadows to move mysteriously against the brilliant white.

A silence of peacefulness swept through the gentle temple, the raging of the outside world unable to pierce the walls that housed such precious cargo to one so powerful. Here softness and peace reigned, and was kept justly by the one above who cherished the small woman living inside.

Beyond the alter of gold, beyond the halls of silver and white, deeper into her rooms where she had been raised from child into woman she slept, encased in silk and luxury, draped in sleep and dreams. Here she lay atop a bed he had created for her, and here she rested in the early morning hours of the day.

In sleep she moaned, in sleep she tossed and shuddered, sensing the presence of one evil inside her dreams. The sheets tangled about her, her hands fisting into the silk when she felt his breath whisper against her neck. In the shadows she could feel him, and in the darkness he waited, whispering promises to her, temptations she struggled to fight against.

I see you……

She whimpered quietly, struggled away from the touch of insidious hands. His whispers crawled across her skin like spiders legs, his voice sending a sharp slice of fear through her belly.

Are you ready, beautiful one? Are you ready for me?

Frightened of the unknown, tears gathered and spilled from her, cascading down her temples to pool on the pillow cradling her head. Her arm reared up, her face turning to press and hide itself as she felt the power of him grow, as she felt him nearing closer then he had ever before.

Prepare for me……..I will have you soon…..

Battles and bloodshed began on the plains of Alexandria, piercing her heart and sending a shaft of pain through her dreams. In this he sent her, in this he showed her what he was capable of. In this she was witness to the evil the world held, an evil she had only recently begun to know.

Trapped in his hold, she watched as death swept his hand across the plains of the earth and left it draped in shadows.

Malachite sat atop his stallion, studying the sight of hundreds of soldiers standing before the palace of Alexandria. His eyes swept the formation, analyzing the infantry that lined the front, the archers who stood at the back, more on the battlements of the palace. Cavalry were stationed at either side of the infantry, and he could see the commanding General, Alexander, standing behind the supporting line.

He turned first to Gregori, noted the dark man had positioned his Appolinarians to the south wing, with Kendrick and his Gallicans to the north wing. Julius and his Scythians were to the west, standing as the flank and reserves, enabling him to strike the body of the Barakhan soldiers. He himself formed the front and supporting line, with his Centurions waiting patiently for the command to attack from him.

He glanced at the pale, grey sky, watched the sun that had shone as brilliant as diamonds disappear behind a thick gathering of clouds. He sensed the storm coming, sensed the rapid change in the weather and listened as the wind picked up and seemed to press against his back, almost urging him to make the command. He could feel the temptation for battle, the thirst for combat against his enemies, the desire to strike down those opposed to them. He could feel the lure rising, could almost scent it in the air as his Centurions shifted restlessly, but held and waited still.

He spotted it then, dark eyes following the single arrow that flew into the sky, the flaming tip catching the attention of both armies. Without hesitation he lifted his hand and signaled his front line forward, remaining with the support as the first wave of his Centurions moved ahead.

Alexander will have his archers attack when we send the first wave. Be prepared for that Malachite.

The Dark King’s words drifted through his mind just as he watched the Barakhan archers lift their bows and launch a first wave, the archers on the battlements immediately following. The clean slice through the air was heard by them, but the Centurions were prepared. Lifting their shields, they lifted the large, dome shaped weapons to block themselves, as well as the men behind them. Harmlessly, the arrows pierced the shields, but not the soldiers below them.

The Centurions rose and resumed their positions, marching forward and unsheathing the swords from their sides. With the icy wind picking up and a light drizzle beginning to descend from the pale skies overhead, Alexander motioned his own front line forward to meet them.

Gregori’s archers will eliminate a great majority of the front line. When Alexander makes the command to his front line, give Gregori the signal.

Malachite turned toward Gregori, nodding once to the dark man. With one quick, slashing signal from Gregori, the Appolinarians raised their bow and arrows, aiming and releasing them, the sharp weapons hitting their targets with exact precision. Several dozens of Barakhan soldiers fell instantly, the front line withering away as men were killed or mortally wounded.

Malachite watched the Barakhan soldiers continue forward, and remained still even when the two sides clashed and the battle began. The sound of cold steel striking could be heard, the sound of blades cutting through flesh, the cries of men dying echoing through the countryside. The light drizzle that had begun earlier turned into a steady pouring, and the clouds that had gathered roared with thunder, lightening slicing through the earth and striking near the battlefield.

The Centurions were easily holding, but Malachite knew the Dark King wished for the battle to take place and end as quickly as possible. Motioning to both Gregori and Kendrick to move forward and attack, he took his supporting line forward, unsheathing the sword from his side and riding straight into the thick of battle.

The Barakhans were quickly falling under their might, falling to lay still against the muddy ground beneath them. Alexander had joined his men with the support, sending in the last of their defense, all the while keeping in the back of his mind that Miles still remained waiting within the castle walls.

The fleeting thought drifted vaguely through his mind, just as the sea of bloody men seemed to part and his eyes met Malachite’s across the damp plains of Alexandria. Each man recognized the other as General and leader beneath each of their King’s, and each recognized the threat both their cunning minds represented. Alexander could see brilliance, strategic war fare in those granite eyes, and a knowledge that they would slaughter him and all his men this day.

The men moved, and Alexander lost him quickly, but he continued his own fierce fighting. But only moments after losing contact with the General, another thought came quickly, sending a sharp slice of terror racing through him.

With his Generals all here, where then was the Dark King?

With the signal sent and the battle echoing to them in the quiet of the forest, Endymion waited patiently and timed his next move. His men remained silent next to him, complete in the trust they held for their King. He knew their impatience to infiltrate the palace was growing, but they kept quiet while he listened to the sounds around them.

He felt it inside of him then, felt the sensation for attack connect quietly, and lifting the sword at his side, shouted to his men, “Remember to hold the line!” with his order said, he kicked his stallion forward, galloping back toward the battlefield and where the entrance of the palace was now left unguarded by the Barakhans.

They raced through the forest, the Dark King remaining at the head with his line beside him. Keeping one hand firmly over the reigns and the other held rigidly by his side with his sword, he broke through the thick of the trees and out into the open plains of the continent, veering back toward the palace and the litter of men battling with one another.

His Generals were fighting with brilliance, their men holding beside them. Alexander had attempted to break through the legiones by springing a trap of men to come in and attack the Parthicus Alexandrian Guard from the sides, therefore nearly overwhelming the ranks and diminishing the number of men in the battle.

The Dark King had known of this, had realized what could and would be done, and had prepared his legiones before hand. With Gregori, Kendrick, and Malachite in the battle, Julius had remained waiting for the attack from both sides to come. When it had his own flank and reserves had marched forward, withholding Alexander’s army and eliminating the trap he had strategically planned.

Sweeping his blade through men who stood before him, the Dark King hacked and plunged through bodies, drowning out the cries of men’s deaths from his ears. He neither felt nor cared when blood flew and splattered his clothes, mingling with the coursing rain that ran in small rivulets over his face. The death of battle swept through his heart, hardening it against any emotion, a baron of icy vengeance against those opposing him. Grasping the need for violence close, he swept across the earth and forward to the gates of the palace.

Miles stood at the windows to his rooms, overlooking the vast plains of his city. With his hands laced securely behind his back, he surveyed the battle Alexander had ordered him away from.

It would be the hardest sight he would ever have to take. He had watched, from the beginning, as the two armies had faced one another for moments of silence, one waiting for the move of the other. When he had seen the flaming arrow launched into the sky, he had known the battle would begin.

The Parthicus Alexandrian Guard were skilled soldiers, a legend that was re-known through the whole of earth. These men had been personally trained by the Dark King’s Generals, men who were brilliantly efficient in battle.

He watched and was witness too these skills, taken aback at the force the Guard fought with. His men were being slaughtered, although fighting back with the strength of their own might, the legiones of the Dark King would remain standing while his own army diminished into history.

A misery of death swept through his heart, and he tipped his face up to the pale, thundering sky overhead. The grey the clouds had brought with it reflected his own emotions, the pain of seeing and knowing his men would die constricting like a knife through his insides.

What could such miseries bring? What could such death and pain bring to this man, this Dark King? The earth had once been peaceful, with separate nations ruling alongside one another and keeping the peace justly. With the wars the gods had brought merely a memory in men’s minds, the future had appeared to be filled with promise and peace.

It was a year ago that the rumors had begun to surface, of an army massing in the corners of the earth, of several thousands of men building under one man determined to eliminate the sole ruling King of earth. Several groups of soldiers had been sent to investigate by the nations, but none of these groups had ever returned.

Anxiety and apprehension had grown, spiraled nearly out of control, until the leaders under the King had wondered what fate would bring with it. As the weeks had passed, the rumors had died down and settled quietly until the leaders and King were once again able to live peacefully.

But the storm had come to them, like a bloody whisper of death’s malice, and the murder had come on this night as well. The fate of the earth had been decided in the darkness of midnight, and the King had been murdered, his palace taken over, his lands seized and held by the one leading the rebellion, The Dark King.

In a matter of days each nation’s leader had been murdered, taken over, the lands confiscated and the people forced to submit to the Dark King’s rule. He had changed each nation into continents that suited him, keeping the capital cities and naming them for each continent. He had marked off provinces of land, had sent patrol units to the more rebellious lands, and had created a dictatorship in a matter of weeks.

Miles couldn’t remember a day when war had not been an objective for him. With his father’s men remaining loyal to him, he had managed to keep an army that could fight against the Dark King and also protect the lands that had been born to him.

His thoughts were interrupted by shouts coming from inside the palace, faint footsteps running down the halls, cries of agony soon following. Turning away from the bloodshed below, he faced the door and kept a calm exterior, although inside his heart was racing with the knowledge that soon he would be meeting the Dark King.

More footsteps came to outside his door, and he heard the shouts of his men as they prepared to defend their lord to the death. The distinctive clash of steel came swiftly, and he listened as they fought with all the strength they possessed.

It was then, when he was certain hope was lost and his own death would follow, that the wall to his far right suddenly moved, seemed to shift, an opening suddenly appearing. Miles stared in utter shock as Alexander stepped out of the passage and into his rooms, smeared with blood and sweat, his bloody sword at his side. His eyes landed on Miles, a wildness the battle had left still remaining in them.

”Alexander-“

He cut off when his head General strode toward him, taking him by the arm and steering him toward the secret passage. “There’s no time to explain, my Lord. We must get you out of here before the Dark King breaks through the last of those men.”

Miles shook his head, cringed when a man howled in pain outside the doors. “We must help them!”

Alexander shoved him into the passage, glancing once briefly over his shoulder at the door. “They were brave men who knew what they would be sacrificing. Their strength will give you life Miles. Remember that.” And stepping in after him, allowed the passage door to quietly slip shut behind them.

The battle had been won.

With the bodies of the Barakhas soldiers littering the fields, Malachite directed his men in piling them together to burn the carcasses. His own body ached with numerous wounds and fatigue, but he ignored the discomfort. Several of his men were bloody and cleaved, presently being seen to at the medical facilities they had set up outside the palace. He knew that many would not survive the night.

The Dark King had infiltrated the palace hours ago and had not yet returned. Malachite and the other Generals were busy seeing to the aftermath, but all of them waited still for their liege to emerge from the palace with Miles’ body.

Malachite remembered seeing Alexander during the battle, and remembered well the understanding that had passed briefly over the other man’s face. The General was not among the bodies on the muddy fields, and he imagined he had escaped before the battle had ended.

He wiped the grime from his face, rubbed deeply at his eyes. This battle had been crucial in the taking over of earth, and had gained them Miles’ stronghold. There were still provinces of land in the south of the Alexandrian continent that belonged to Miles, areas they had been unable to conquer as of yet. But the Dark King had not seemed intent on taking these provinces. He had informed them they would take them when the time came.

He glanced briefly at the thick clouds overhead, thankful the rain had ceased at the end of the battle. Night had fallen swiftly, a cold, frosty wind blowing through the countryside, the chilly air hitting them like a cold slap to the face. This weather would soon pass for them. Alexandria was a continent known for its cool days and warm heat.

Murmurs swept through the camp he’d had set up, and he turned to watch the Dark King emerge finally from the palace, several Praetorians following behind their sovereign. His clothes were filthy with mud and blood, his face streaked with sweat, but it was the rage Malachite saw that was frightening. It was thunderous, darkening his features, his eyes black and his nostrils flared as he made his way to his head General.

Malachite suspected the capture he’d planned for Miles had failed. The Praetorians behind him separated, some heading for the food and warm fire at the middle of the camp, others limping for the medical facilities. Just as the Dark King reached him, Kendrick, Julius, and Gregori joined him as well.

”What happened?” Malachite asked him immediately, making sure to keep his expression strictly neutral.

”He was gone.” Endymion had already let out a good portion of his rage inside the palace. His Praetorians had watched with horror as he tore apart Miles’ empty rooms with his bare hands. “In my plans I was certain he would be in those rooms, but he was gone when I managed to break inside.”

The four Generals took this bit of information in silently, each shocked that the Dark King’s plan to capture Miles had failed. None of the plans he had ever made had failed.

Kendrick finally broke the heavy silence. “What will we do with the prisoners that have been taken, my Lord?”

”Kill them.” Endymion spoke flatly, his expression smoothing into an impenetrable mask. “Miles escapes me, and so none of his men will have the privilege of becoming prisoners of war. Take care of them Kendrick.”

With one brief nod, Kendrick left them.

”Julius, see to the men. Make sure their given food and supplies.” Malachite ordered him.

Endymion remained silent, contemplating what had taken place inside the rooms. He had sensed the heavy presence of Alexander, and something else he had been unable to see. After calming from his rage, he had attempted to scan the surroundings, but had been unsuccessful in attaining any information.

”My Lord?” this from Gregori, his dark eyes questioning.

Endymion shook himself from his thoughts, focusing in on his Generals. “Take your men Gregori and go to the mountains in the north, to the caves found at the foot of the mountain. Inside you’ll find the women and children of Alexandria.”

Gregori exchanged a quick glance with Malachite. “Yes, my Lord.” He bowed once before leaving them.

Malachite decided not to ask how it was the Dark King knew this. Instead he fell into step beside him as he began walking through the camp. “And what will we do with these women and children?”

”Bring them back to this city. They will populate my reign here.” He stopped walking, and with one hand resting on the massive sword at his side, turned to look back at the mountains looming in the far distance. He could see the clouds drifting across the high peaks, could see the snow that covered a good portion of them and left them bathed in white. His eyes narrowed into slits, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he continued to stare at them in silence.

Malachite followed his gaze. “What is it, my Lord?”

”Assemble a group of your Centurions, only the most skilled in combat Malachite.” He turned back to face his General, and Malachite was puzzled to find a merciless smirk curving his lips. “I’ve left the mountains in relative peace since I began my campaign.” He mused aloud.

”Yes, you have, my Lord, but what reason will I be assembling my men for?”

”You’ll be taking them into the mountains and disposing of any rebels living among the caves there.”

Malachite nodded quickly. “Yes, my liege. And what mountains will I be traveling too?”

The Dark King’s smile was filled with malice, his eyes darkening, sharpening like the fine edge of a blade. “Abaskira Mountains.”

With a strangled gasp, she awoke, her hand flying to her throat, her heart racing madly inside her chest. With the cover of darkness surrounding her, she listened to the echoing laughter that had haunted her like an evil promise inside her dreams and doomed her to the knowledge she had struggled to fight against.

He was coming………

Last Notes: At this point I understand many of you may be wondering what’s going on, but be patient. Everything will, I promise, be revealed with time.

The one thing I will say is that she, Serenity (I’m changing her name to Serenity instead of Selenity, hope that’s ok with everyone) isn’t going to be brought down from the mountain in the original form she had been in the other chapters. That much I think is obvious anyway.

I was a little taken back by a review I received the other day, from je alcheamae. This is it right here: ’god I hate this story. i don't see why it has 508 reviews. the rewrite isn't any better. you're only doing it for reviews. review-sucking whore.’ Yikes! The hostility here amazed me. I wasn’t actually sure what to say to this, I just wish people would actually e-mail me these feelings and tell me personally instead of under an anonymous review. Well anyway, I can understand where this reviewer is coming from and don’t condemn him/her in what they think. I just wish people who think this would understand I’m not doing it for more reviews. I’ll repeat, yet again, that the purpose of this re-write is to allow the plotline, characters, and descriptions to grow as they should. As for the reviewers feelings of hating the story itself, you’re welcome to your own opinion like everyone else in this world is.

So with that minor point out of the way, thank you again to the kind readers and reviewers who remain faithful in the major changes I had take place in this story. If you choose to leave me a review, please let it be somehow constructively helpful. Those are, to put it simply, the best one’s. ~SailorP