Mugen: Infinite Positive  (A Circles of Time tale)
Rated R


THE LIGHT:

	
	The more you fight, the more the sacrifices for this 
	peace are wasted. You should know that...Try to 
	believe in the world around us now!

				-Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz


	Magik is arbitrary. Black, white, grey: colour is irrelevant. 
Magik knows no love or emnity, no fear or honour. It only knows 
itself, that which is magik. The user determines the shape the magik 
shall take when it is manifested. It is the user who can create or 
destroy. Magik cannot differentiate, cannot be blamed. The soul is 
what moves magik, be it a black heart of cold stone, or a fragile 
heart of beauty and truth. 
	One day all this knowledge, this magik, shall fade, and be 
forgotten, and become just a legend spoken to little children at 
bedtime. Magik shall become magic, and shall be given colours. Only a 
handful of souls will ever remember such a time as this, when magik 
was the life and breath of the Earthworld and its solar system.
	Time passes, as it always has and always shall forever, ending 
yet neverending in the boundary that marks eternity. And with time 
comes change: of worlds, of faces, of legends and myths. Time does 
indeed change. But the magik shall always remain the same, and stay 
with us until eternity itself comes to an end.
	You can try to forget the magik, but it shall never forget you. 
If you were once destined to wield it, you shall wield it once more. 
Black, white, grey; it does not matter.
	I am His lordship Chaos.
	One of many writers who have come together to craft an epic 
spanning the millennia and legends of a world first created by Naoko 
Takeuchi. The Senshi are her children, the original tale hers to tell. 
But the other tales and other souls we have drawn into this realm 
belong to those who have created Circles of Time. Naoko has her 
children, as do I have mine. I, as do all the other writers of this 
epic, ask for your permission should you wish for our children to 
enter another realm.
	But for now, let the eternal night fall as silence swallows up 
the brilliant light of the future. 
	Listen to the tale I have to tell you.
	For time is of the essence....


		-His lordship Chaos (hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com)
		       http://www.geocities.com/Tokyo/9897/ct.htm


	Darkness.
	A vast emptiness of space countered with the brilliant lives of 
a thousand stars. Shimmering lives all reflected within a seemingly 
endless display of the cosmos. Galaxies unfolded all around it, 
nebulae and clusters defying a shadowy realm that still unrelentingly 
clutched to as much of the universe as it could.
	Here in both the unknown depths of darkness and the beauty of 
the flickering light, it existed. Essence was a part of it yet not as 
we would call essence. Form was an arbitrary thing, and it grasped 
this quite well. It could change its form. It could alter its essence.
	Yet it had no reason to.
	Here, locked within an outer reach of space, it existed. In a 
place it would have called home...had it understood what such a word 
might mean.
	Something abruptly defied its borders, and it shifted once more 
out of defensive measures. Essence changed forms and properties.
	A figure stood before the entity. Human. Winds unseen played 
with the edges of his dark robes, the ends pushing as far from his 
body as they could. Metal rings looped within an intricately fashioned 
ornamental head chimed quietly from their place atop his shakujyo. The 
figure was quiet, penitent, letting it shift and shift again until it 
shifted once more and calmed down. Eyes slowly opened, his face 
tilting upwards to behold this creature. And the eyes were like the 
heavens: rich in midnight and shadows yet alive with small but 
shimmering lights.
	The Raithe stared up at the alien entity. Hotaru's ascension as 
a samurai apprentice of Aurora was now completed. The glaive was hers 
to wield. Her task was, for now, over; his was only just beginning.
	A voice.
	Inside his mind.
	<>
	Tearing apart his mind in speaking in his mind speaking to apart 
tear his mind apart. Oh such a strange form he was but a pretty one 
oooh gimme kiss you look so pretty. Disturb.
	He disturbed it.
	Disturb.
	bitsdru.
	It was it what was it to strudib it?
	The Raithe winced, fighting back the dizziness. For the first 
time since he could ever remember, being a telepath was the worst 
possible thing to be. Such a creature...it's thought patterns were to 
him completely erratic, like a deaf man trying to sort through 
background static. The only thing that made a shred of sense was the 
insanity creeping into the back of his mind.
	"My name means nothing," the Raithe spoke, lightly pressing his 
fingertips against the side of his head. The throbbing was slowly 
subsiding. "What I am here for means everything."
	It read his mind.
	<>
	Be home they of Earth home to be of home. Home of pain of love 
of death but what is home and why love and why death and why not pain? 
Voices asking. So many questions. Home is of questions of pain and 
tearing apart his mind in speaking to be a home.
	He nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly. As if to clear the 
dizziness of his swirling thoughts. "Hai...a place called Earth. A new 
place for you to exist. A new essence for you to become."
	It was getting easier for him to clear this insane clatter. To 
think that it could effect one like him, an Ancient, in such a deadly 
fashion; how could anyone without knowledge of magik hope to keep 
their minds pure?
	Yet confusion was relative.
	This entity understood its own thoughts, was perplexed by the 
fact that he could not follow the same. Likewise there was a mutual 
confusion when he spoke. How does one define 'home' to an entity 
who doesn't even know what 'roof' or 'earth' or 'soul' meant.
	Abstract conversations in abstract time.
	<>
	He suddenly felt as if he had been here before this entity 
for centuries on end. A weariness, fatigue of the mind. 
Transferring and transforming the physical. Yet despite what he 
felt, the Raithe's lips betrayed an enigmatic smile.
	There was something they both understood.
	Curiousity.
	The creature shifted once more, and drew closer. It was 
intrigued. Still confused, but intrigued never the less. By the 
same token he could imagine the confusion and frustration this 
entity was enduring just to comprehend him.
	<>
	"I can create a portal that would bring you to my world," the 
Raithe answered.
	<>	
	He shook his head. "Iie. It has taken me countless years and 
almost all of my magik to bring me to this place, yet I am only a 
spectre here before you."
	A binding of Shadowspell and StarChamber.
	To exist and yet not.
	Become ghost yet remain real.
	The StarChamber only worked two ways if there was a second 
gateway on the other side. Here in the midst of these star 
clusters, there was no such fortune. A nexus, a gateway, would have 
to be created.
	He was not the one to do this.
	Not in a hundred years could he understand the complexities 
of this alien entity's mind. He would be driven insane within a 
year or two--provided through some miracle he actually lasted that 
long.
	The Raithe knew the extent of his powers. He understood what 
it meant to have incredible magik at his grasp. And he also kept an 
eternal vigil on the limitations of what he could perform. The ones 
who became arrogant in their magik were the first to die.
	Usually by their own devices.
	No...he could not create a gateway. Instead there would have 
to be a mergence. Of alien and human. A hybrid who could establish 
the doorway.
	Eyes of midnight heavens looked to the entity. "I desire one 
of your children."
	<>
	"I have already found a suitable container," he stated. The 
shakujyo was caught by another unseen wave of wind, the metallic 
rings chiming together once more. "Give her your powers, your 
wisdom, and she will unlock the gateway between our worlds. Earth 
shall become your home."
	Home it was to love and kiss and love a home. 
	Heart and home and hearth.
	Gimme kiss.
	<>
	"You comprehend the essence of curiousity," he countered. 
"There is something you do not understand yet desire to know. Give 
me a daemon egg, and you can discover it for yourself."
	The alien entity shifted and pulsated once more. It was 
deliberating in its own unique way. One eye became hundreds of 
eyes, all fixated on him. And then the eyes were all sealed, the 
form changing.
	"A warning, though," the Raithe added solemnly. "Earth is far 
different a reality from this one you now exist within. Choose a 
form. Integrate."
	<
>
	Good or evil or bad or nice and naughty. Kiss of love and 
glare of hate. Oooh, those eyes which reflected with so many stars, 
could he pluck out a constellation if he tried with so many pretty 
stars but was that truly good or bad?
	The Raithe abruptly caught his wrist, restraining his one 
hand which had now taken a life of its own. Fingers stretched 
forth, straining to tear out his eye from its socket. It was acting 
on the lunatic impulse of incomprehension.
	A mouth opened up in the middle of his hand.
	"I love you now gimme good pain," it said.
	The Raithe hissed, winds of magik rustling the folds of his 
darkened robes. Eyes flashed in a brilliant light, his expression 
turning almost murderous. The mouth in his palm shrieked and bit 
down on a tongue that was sloppily running along his wrist. The 
tongue was severed by the rows of small teeth, limply falling as a 
trail of blood ran down his arm.
	"Kuso," he said between deeps gasps for air, his body chilled 
by this violation.
	It was dissecting his very soul.
	<>
	He looked up at the shifting entity before him. Its essence 
was trying to reform itself to his mind, his thoughts. The process 
alone could kill him with disturbing ease...and he doubted that 
this alien would fully grasp what had happened.
	<>
	The Raithe ran his fingers down the palm of his hand; the 
mouth was gone. Whatever madness had created it was gone, and the 
disease relented to his own powers. But the blood...that was all 
too real. Like the tongue flopping around at his feet.
	He crushed it beneath his boot.
	"A choice," he stated, reaching out and grasping hold of his 
hovering staff. "A decision how we make our homes: through fear, or 
through compassion."
	<>
	Midnight eyes glanced down at the remains of the crushed 
tongue. "That makes two of us," he muttered.
	It was confused. 
	At least in that respect he could relate.
	End of the world end of the world end of the world end of the 
world end of-- 
	<>
	"One who holds the capacity to choose," the Raithe answered 
solemnly. "To take a form of good or evil. 
	His violated hand flexed, clenching into a fist and then 
relaxing.
	<>
	"It is in the eyes of the one who chooses. Happiness, like good 
or evil, is relative. It depends on the person. Evil can make some 
people very happy."
	<>
	The Raithe shook his head. "I will not dictate what form you 
should choose in coming to Earth. Integrate with your own mind."
	The alien form pulsated and rippled, essence changing form and 
collapsing upon itself once more only to give way to a new shape.
	The Raithe glanced back down at his hand.
	He had come too close to losing against the dementia. It was 
unsafe for him to remain any longer. An answer had to be given; 
destiny was on the line. And so he gambled, drawing the shakujyo 
closer to him before starting to turn away.
	<>
	Movements were frozen. For a moment his eyes closed, and the air 
he had not quite realized he was holding in was released. The Raithe 
turned back to the alien entity.
	A glowing light was hovering before him, its rays casting 
playful shadows across his form. The source of the light was a 
creation he had been searching to find for centuries. At long last he 
had uncovered its location...and darkest of truths. His hand gently 
closed around the daemon egg, magik sealing it away in a safe place.
	The Raithe bowed before the entity. "You will know when the time 
has come for you to make Earth your home. I shall send for 
you...Pharaoh Ninety."



	         MUGEN:  INFINITE POSITIVE

		     (A Circles of Time tale)


	Earth was strangely quiet tonight.
	It could have easily been attributed to the establishment of 
peace across the Solis system. Begun with the now legendary Arthur, 
king of Great Britain, a reign of prosperity had slowly reached out to 
encompass the entire Earth. Not soon afterwards it had spread across 
space and planets. Aurora, sister planet to Mars, home of the ancient 
Weaponeers, had been the first to ally itself with what became a 
golden age of civilization. It was the time of the Golden Empire under 
Arthur the Pendragon.
	There was so much to hope for. So much to enjoy in the 
fellowship of other people, other planets.
	And yet this comforted him not.
	He was upon the parapet, sitting on the cold stone of its 
battlements, legs dangling over the side. Eyes the colour of the blue 
ocean after a storm stared down at the ground far far below. For a 
moment he contemplated throwing himself over, to feel the euphoric 
chance to fly with the wings of a bird, or even an angel. But common 
sense prevailed, and so there he remained.
	From here he could see but a fraction of the world that laid 
beyond these castle walls. Walls he had never been outside of for as 
long as he could remember. They were the stone walls of Vlatmere 
castle, pinnacle for the Eastern kingdom of Arthur's realm, presided 
over by Lord Endymion. His father.
	But that was becoming less and less a reality for them all. He 
closed his eyes, trying to find a way to numb the pain. His father was 
dead, had been for some time now. And not even the greatest of the 
Healers had been able to find a way to stop the affects of the black 
poison, let alone understand what the poison was in the first place.
	For a while his father was bedridden, each day becoming less and 
less able to carry on with the duties of looking over the Eastern 
countries. And then all too quickly the duty and honour of ruling was 
passed onto him. To gain so much, but at a cost he didn't want to 
consider.
	Through the entire ordeal he had continued clinging to a hope 
that Lord Michael Endymion might survive, that his father would live 
to rule over Vlatmere for another twenty years. 
	"I thought I would find you here."
	A new voice shattered the uneasy silence he was brooding within. 
	Magellan Endymion turned his head. 
	He was prince of twenty-one, already an envisioned hero in such 
an early prime of his life. The whispers of his name being spoken of 
within the walls of the great Camelot had not escaped his ears. Yet 
the pride he would have otherwise taken in such an accomplishment was 
weighed down by the mood he was under tonight.
	His friend sighed in exasperation.
	"Dammit, Magellan, you're no fun when you're like this! Look, 
you've even managing to depress me. Me! Frederic, the best archer in 
the country, the best drinker at any tavern and the best lover in any 
woman's bed."
	A smile crept its way onto Magellan's face.
	Frederic walked up to the battlements, leaning against the stone 
he was sitting upon. Fiery red hair danced leisurely in the gentle 
evening breezes, only adding to Frederic's playfully pouting 
expression.
	"Tell you what," Frederic said, slapping him on the back. "I'll 
take you out to the nearest tavern we can find, and get you so damned 
drunk you'll even forget what it means to be a dignified prince."
	Magellan rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you, 
Commander?" Abruptly he paused, taking a more candid look at his 
friend. "What about Myung?"
	Myung.
	A princess of Venus, fallen to Earth in a crash that should have 
very well killed her. It seemed to have killed everyone else. And yet 
the mystery behind her identity was not what was plaguing him; her 
transport's demise was not an accident. No mere mechanical flaw.
	Someone, or else something, had targeted her.
	And that someone or something was incredibly powerful.
	The answers to that were unknown. His own instinct drew him 
towards the rogue forces which Camelot had dubbed 'the Shadows'. A 
revolution stemming from a carefully constructed and executed 
rebellion. Raiders terrorizing the villages of outer provinces were 
growing in numbers each day. There were whispers of a leader, though 
each one differed depending on the source.
	Some said it was Merlin, who had all but completely withdrawn 
from Camelot's affairs as of recently. Merlin, who for all other 
purposes was considered missing, who had the power to keep the origins 
of this revolution kept secret. Merlin, who was opposed to Arthur 
leaving a slowly unravelling Earth for the diplomatic talks on 
Neptune.
	Others said it was the Elven race lurking in the island forests 
of Arana. They had the power and the magik to pull off such incredibly 
orchestrated raids. The Elven, who had reasons for wanting the Golden 
Empire upon this planet to crumble apart and be destroyed.
	Others still whispered of demons, of living shadows and 
necromancy. Reports and rumours blurred together to give accounts of 
entities from different galaxies and systems, of creatures rising up 
from the fiery depths of hell, and a mysterious reference to the 
'Senshi Wars'--whatever that was.
	Magellan suspected that the highest echelons within Camelot knew 
exactly who it was. Arthur, his Knight Commanders, and possibly a few 
others. He suspected further that if the true identity of the 
instigator were discovered by the public, it would create an even 
greater panic.
	An abrupt and deliberate cough from Frederic snapped him out of 
his thoughts. "Magellan," his friend said. "You're brooding again. 
Damn, you need a good drink more than I thought." Frederic gestured to 
the access door leading back down into the castle. "Come on; let our 
fallen princess rest."
	A smile crept across Magellan's face for a moment as he saw 
within his mind her long blonde hair tied back with a yellow ribbon, 
and brilliant blue eyes which betrayed her seemingly youthful age. He 
probably held the same sort of saddened eyes; it was hard to let go of 
a loss. And he was still grieving in the midst of his new duties as 
Vlatmere's lord and governor.
	He swung his feet over the battlement, hopping down from the 
stone and onto the floor. However, when he looked at his companion, he 
found himself the object of a disheartening sigh.
	"Get that dumb grin off your face," Frederic stated. "You're 
making me nauseous here."
	"What?"
	Frederic laughed, finding amusement in having to explain what 
should have seemed obvious. "You obviously have a thing for her, my 
friend. I've seen it before; that whole victim-hero thing. Or at least 
it goes something like that."
	He waved his fingers in the air as if to prove a point, or at 
least making the gestures to compliment his words. 
	That in turn caused Magellan to smile to himself. If what he was 
feeling was anything close to affection for Myung, it was born out of 
something deeper than mere circumstance. "Why so eager about tonight, 
Frederic?" he asked.
	Frederic's playful smile faded. "You know why," his friend 
stated evenly. "Don't make me humour your melancholy state, Magellan."
	They both knew why he had to be a part of this.
	His father.
	Magellan took one final glance at the world beyond Vlatmere 
castle, the only home he had ever known. The midnight heavens were 
clear tonight, hundreds of thousands of stars twinkling down upon 
them. And the crescent moon was strangely radiant on this night, as if 
another form of magik was unfolding before their eyes, unseen and 
unknown. 
	He looked away, and followed Frederic down into the labyrinth of 
palace halls.


	Every night she had a dream.
	She dreamt of something she could vaguely remember. 
	She dreamt about dark corridors and dark worlds. She dreamed a 
dream, or dreamed a nightmare. She ran with something breathing down 
her neck, chasing after her with relentless endurance and merciless 
taunting and the gleam of a curved, savage blade. No matter how hard 
she ran, or how fast, with her heart beating like a jackhammer on 
final overload and sweat being flung like a wet blanket around her 
face, she knew it was coming for her. 
	She never saw it, for she ran in a tunnel without light but 
still seeing everything perfectly. Yet she remained unable to see this 
source of immense and forbidding fear, and there was a part of her 
that didn't want to. And night after hellish night she was plagued 
with this unconscious torture, cursed to run forever within a dream 
from a living shadow, a nightmare blacker than oblivion. 
	She could only pray to one day send it there.
	But for now all she could do was run. Each night she sensed it 
approaching out of the corner of her mind, and she began to flee 
within her dream. It pursued, feeding off her tears and adrenaline and 
terror. It drew closer with each step, letting her know that she had 
entered a place where angels feared to tread. 
	And then, right when she turned around and see the metal of the 
savage blade lunging for her throat, she tore open her eyes and leaped 
from her bed, crystal blue eyes wide in fear, heart on the verge of 
stopping altogether, her covers drenched in salty sweat as long blonde 
hair clung to her cold and damp body. And she had those eyes burned 
into her vision for one more day, one more eternity. Those eyes, 
watching her with evil glee. 
	It was stalking her now.
	Those eyes...violet and rich and of purest destructive evil. 
They were beyond her imagination. Beyond her dreams. Beyond her 
darkest fears. 
	They were watching her. 
	The eyes in the dark.
	"Serenity...."


	It surprised him to discover that he had fallen asleep. Dragon 
green eyes fluttered open, and he tilted his head to the ceiling. A 
warm grogginess accompanied his return to the world of the waking 
souls; the chill in the air reminded him that it was still the dead of 
night.
	The Elven lord stirred in being roused, unfolding his arms from 
his chest and stretching out his legs. He winced as he felt stiff 
muscles protest against his movements.
	"Damn," he muttered.
	Fingers moved to brush aside the stray bangs of silver hair that 
were draped around his face. He yawned, taking in the dim outlines of 
these chambers. The candles at the edges of the paper screens were 
still burning; enchantment allowed them to give light to the darkness, 
without a threat of igniting the wood all around them.
	Kakkyou pushed away from the wooden beam he had once been 
sitting against, grimacing as he twisted his back. The trees of Arana 
were never this callous to his limber form. He adjusted the folds of 
his garments, muttering a quick incantation. Magik rose from beneath 
him, ripples of unseen wind causing his clothes to rustle in 
succession from the bottom up.
	A way of cleansing the garments without actually washing them. A 
handy Elven trick, one he was smug in knowing that the humans had yet 
to discover it. However, despite his clothes being refreshed, he still 
felt the sweat from enduring another long night.
	But for her, he gladly endured it one moment at a time.
	"Serenity," he said quietly, fondly.
	He turned to the only true item other than himself within these 
walls and paper screens. A bed, a mattress and covers laid out upon 
the floor. Yet the one who had once been sleeping beneath the covers 
was gone, the blankets in disarray. For a moment, he was tense.
	She had vanished while he slept.
	A cool breeze moved past him, causing the Elven lord to turn his 
head. This room was along one of the outer walls of the building; a 
screen was opened to the outdoors. The surge of panic died down within 
him, and Kakkyou sighed in relief.
	Fingers moved to brush another stray bang of silver away from 
his eyes.
	He wandered out through the open doorway, taking a deep breath 
of the garden air. It felt not only refreshing but purifying as well.
 	The forest air of Elfhame was damp, if not humid and full of 
plant odours. But this scent was of flowing, cleansing water, green 
grass, and a strange but fragrant perfume. The grass was damp. It 
could have been dew; he had not the slightest idea how late into the 
night or early into the morning it was. All he knew was that it was 
dark.
	Eyes of creamy jade ventured up into the black sky. Thousands of 
stars twinkled far above, some of them dwarfed by the crescent moon 
hanging in the highest point of the sky.
	"Serenity?" he called out.
	He knelt down and let his fingers drift with the pool's 
currents. It wasn't startlingly cold or searingly hot. It was warm; 
the right kind of heat if one wished to bathe.
	Abruptly something broke through the glassy surface of the 
water. 
	Kakkyou held his breath.
	A young woman rose up from the pool, long blonde hair clinging 
to her face. Her eyes were closed, enjoying this moment of peace. A 
moment she was spending without apparel.
	Serenity slowly opened her eyes, and turned to look directly at 
the Elven lord. Her chest was above the water, high enough for him to 
see her belly button...and other physical features. Her breasts were 
not large, but well rounded and very supple.
	A wave of flustered heat surged through Kakkyou's body as looked 
at her, saying nothing. Thoughts were distant; he was uncertain if he 
was surprised by her sudden and naked appearance, or awed by the 
radiant glow of magik that glistened on her body alongside the 
droplets of water.
	Then he heard Serenity laugh with amusement, almost giggling. 
"Would you pass me that towel?" she asked.
	Dragon green eyes darted to the bulky, white towel lying on top 
of a rock right beside him. The Elven lord slowly grasped the towel 
and turned around. Serenity rose up from the water right before him. 
She smiled as she took the ends of the towel and wrapped herself with 
it. Water rained down from her damp hair, shimmering on her skin.
	"You act as if you've never seen a young, naked woman bathing 
before," she said quietly. 
	On the edge of his vision, he caught a playful spark in her 
eyes. She found his reaction amusing to say the least. It hadn't 
startled or frightened Serenity that he had seen her bathing.
	As if she knew he would see her like this.
	"There's a cold wind out tonight," she said to him. "Shall we go 
inside?" Serenity walked past him, her body graceful and fluid in 
every movement.
	Kakkyou remained still, only his head moving to follow her steps 
as she crossed back into the bedchambers. She paused, glancing back at 
him. His expression was stern, a caring affection shaped by a 
determination to guard over her. So many times after that creature had 
appeared, she saw him with that face.
	The Elven lord turned away, and reached out to grasp her 
nightgown from where it had been discarded on one of the rocks. Upon 
taking it in his hands, he joined her inside.
	Serenity glanced back at him as he entered the room. "Did you 
sleep well?" she asked.
	"All things considered," he replied. "Just fine."
	It was still unnerving to think that sleep was overpowering him. 
Times ago he could have lived for weeks without sleep, feeding off his 
rampant Elven magik and whatever games he had crafted to play out. But 
now this was not so. His focus was narrowed, and draining much of his 
energy as he devoted everything to it...to her.
	His magik.
	His soul.
	His every breath.
	Serenity reached out her arm as Kakkyou handed her the gown. The 
Elven lord turned away as she dried off and slipped into the fabric.
	"You're a true gentleman," she said. 
	"I'm afraid if I look," he replied. "it'll be my ass. Halefyne 
has grudgingly allowed me to watch over you at night; I am not about 
to give the old woman an excuse to try and kick me out."
	He felt Serenity's hand on his shoulder. It was pulling him, 
turning him around. She smiled, her crystal blue eyes shimmering as 
she gazed at him. And then she leaned forward on her tiptoes, gently 
pressing her lips against his.
	"Thank you for protecting me," she said, retreating.
	Kakkyou's lips were tingling from her touch. 
	"You're welcome," he answered, his fingers gently caressing her 
cheek. Touch was something he as an Elven understood well enough; he 
could sense many things in how she reacted to his touch.
	And right now she was trembling.
	He drew away his hand as tears started to run down her face. She 
was still smiling about their kiss, but unable to stop from crying. 
Slowly she began to sob, falling into his arms as her final defense 
fell down.
	Kakkyou said nothing. Whether or not he spoke didn't matter; in 
her moment of fear, of weakness, all that mattered was his touch. And 
so he held her in his arms, letting her tears stain his garments. 
	Somehow he managed to lead her to the bed.
	She fell asleep in his arms, safe and secure.
	And Kakkyou held onto her tightly, not daring to let her go. He 
felt her body quiver as she dreamed. She whimpered, stirring and 
fighting in his grip. He refused to let her go. For so long he had 
been guarding her, guarding her magik.
	Guarding her heart...and his own.
	But in her dreams, he could not watch over her.
	This was the best he could do, and he cursed himself for his 
uselessness.


	Earth's sole lunar orb hung in a crescent form at the horizon. 
The dying hours of the early morning were being marked by hues of pink 
and orange, a time where most everything else was sleeping. Dreaming. 
Yet there was a place which knew no sleep, where dreams were as real 
as the surreal world behind its borders.
	Hakkeda.
	By far the city with the wildest and most out of control 
reputation in history, it was a far cry from the jubilant festivals of 
Camelot. Earth was a place where anything could happen; here in 
Hakkeda anything had already happened.	It was a place which was 
home to only two kinds of people: the criminals, and the souls 
escaping reality. 
	There was no genuine reason he should find himself in such 
elements. But something within, a spark of magik perhaps, told him 
that this was where he needed to be. And so it was here within the 
wild streets of Hakkeda that he found himself. And the party was still 
fiercely alive, an entity unto itself to be reckoned with.
	The Man With No Name stared at the towering buildings, flashing 
with enchanted lights and magiks of any and all colours. Structures of 
all shapes and sizes were stuck together. Alleys, streets, courtyards 
and catwalks stretched out in every direction.
	A painted man juggling a set of large throwing knives bumped 
past his shoulder, oblivious to his presence unless he was giving out 
coins. A menagerie of strange and wonderful creatures swarmed around 
him, parading and engulfing him in a wave of bizarre galavanting. 
Fire-eaters, jugglers, illusionists, dancers, thieves and enforcers 
swirled about in one enormous party. Masks depicting animals, 
aristocrats, angels and demons stretched from one street to the other.
	The stray flames from a fireball caught a reflection within a 
set of small, tinted coin-sized lenses over his eyes. 
	Revelry knew no distinctions between night or day.
	This celebration would continue with the rising sun. In fact, he 
suspected this festive zealousness would regain new momentum just to 
celebrate the rising of the sun. Such was the way things in Hakkeda 
worked.
	Paper confetti floated leisurely like rain around him. They 
clung to his hair, his skin, his garments. Colours danced around the 
shades of midnight all around his form, making him into a living and 
breathing shadow. He was darkness in that instant, and felt comforted 
by something familiar in such an unknown place.
	The only thing that was not as black as the rest of his clothes 
was the coat he wore. Long it was, and billowed out almost like a 
redingote, breathing both elegance and danger at the same time, with a 
wide collar that rolled back upon his shoulders and back. It was as 
dark if not darker than anything else he wore, yet it possessed a 
colour that wasn't a shade of midnight. Upon his left sleeve there was 
a thin white band that curved around his arm, only to be intersected 
by an equally thin white band that ran down the length of the sleeve. 
Where the two intersected there was a black buckle to finish the 
formation of a cross.
	As long as he had lived he did not know why he wore this marking 
so on his sleeve, but it had always been that way. He could not live 
any other way. He could not imagine life any other way without such a 
white cross. His calling card, His signature, his reason d'étre.
	Perhaps one day he would discover its meaning.
	The Man With No Name sidestepped a pair of uninhibited lovers, 
the man and woman stumbling backwards in kissing passionately. He 
never even glanced back at them with mild interest. Another courtyard 
presented itself, full of another ensemble of performers and 
revellers. Loud music from a live musical troupe was being played out 
on a raised dais at the very end of the street.
	He stole a glass full of what he assumed to be wine from a tray 
carried by a roving waiter. He was thirsty, not having had anything to 
drink since he had awoken on this night, and was ready to drink 
anything.
	Awakened....
	He took a sip. A bitter-sweet taste, almost like honey and 
vinegar mixed together, flowed down to his stomach. The Man With No 
Name's face contorted into a wild expression.
	Ale.
	With one hell of a reznor twist.
	Another body abruptly slammed into him from behind, causing the 
Mane With No Name to stumble forward. His long, dark brown hair which 
stood out as a long, single braid dangling over his shoulder fluttered 
from the burst of motion.
	For a split second he was caught off-balance.
	For a split second only.
	He whirled, grabbing hold of the wrist that had been meaning to 
steal whatever money he was carrying. His grip was relentless, 
crushing as he wrenched the thief into the air by the one arm.
	It was a pathetic creature: a short yet thin man with, in his 
opinion, poor fashion sense. The thief yelped, legs kicking viciously 
yet with futile efforts to free himself. 
	The Man With No Name scowled. "You're not one of them," he 
stated. "I am not waiting here for you."
	He then threw the thief back into the crowd. People spilled over 
as the man collided, tumbling off them and onto the cobblestone 
street.
	He paused moments later as a significantly large knife sank into 
the cobblestone just beside his boot. The Man With No Name slowly 
turned around, his overcoat rustling with his sudden movement, edges 
billowing out behind him in the midnight winds. 
	A circle was being formed, and he was unimpressed at finding 
himself in the middle of the ring. On the other side was the thief he 
had thrown around, the man angrily shouting at him.
	"Bastard!" the thief snarled. "Where'd you get off doing that to 
me?!"
	The Man With No Name regarded him coldly. He had not the time 
nor the interest in this person to waste standing around here. The 
mystery of his purpose, his reason to exist, was waiting to be 
discovered. He could recall nothing of his past, save waking up 
earlier this evening from a distant dream.
	As if he had been born only a few hours ago.
	He began to turn away again.
	However someone had other ideas. The Man With No Name found a 
large hand shoving him back into the centre spectacle. He stepped 
back, and back again as a towering man joined the thief. Another 
joined the theif's ranks, and another still. 
	"You're gonna pay for that!" the short one exclaimed, drawing a 
sword and making a jab in his general direction. "No one insults the 
Crimson Scorpions and lives! How does it feel to know you're about to 
die?"
	The other three men all nodded in sharing the same sentiment. A 
gang, all thieves, brothers in whatever it was their crimes 
specialized in.
	"I take it this is your idea of a fair fight?" the Man With No 
Name inquired.
	"Shut up!" the thief snapped. "I'll carve my name onto your 
chest--after I've buried this blade in your gut."
	A challenge had been made.
	The Man With No Name stood as one against four. Fingers reached 
up and drew the shaded, coin-sized lenses from his eyes. They might 
have been called eyes, for while he did possess them, there was 
nothing to truly see with. For the Man With No Name possessed eyes 
that were clouded over, and even the surrounding lights had trouble to 
find a reflection within an eternal opaqueness. 
	Eyes of a blank grey haze, yet with something there inside. 
Something as dark as everything about him. Yet as eyes were windows to 
the soul, the clouding of his eyes prevented such an insight.
	"What the?" one thief hissed. "You're blind!"
	The Man With No Name's lips parted to form a wicked smile. 
"Blindness is but a weakness. I hold no weaknesses." 
	He could see them in brilliant colours, expanded and exploding 
in his vision. Their scent was his to smell. Their movements were his 
to hear. And their magik, while sadly insignificant, was his to watch 
like the light of day.
	People around the rim of this spontaneous arena were starting to 
take bets. Others were cheering on whomever they had decided was their 
favourite. The Man With No Name payed no attention to them. As far as 
he knew, Camelot was still standing. It would still be there come 
morning, even if he indulged these fools. The unknown mission was all 
that mattered...yet there was still time to play.
	Clouds and haze parted, everything clearing up as the mists were 
drained away. And what remained in his eyes was the darkest of nights 
shifting as a thunderstorm before unleashing its power, accented with 
electric blue streaks that coursed across his orbs.
 	The Man With No Name gave a savage smile. "If you are so 
insistent on dying, then who am I to argue?"


	The rays of the rising sun washed across the province and castle 
of Vlatmere. And quietly, penitently, Myung let the warmth find her 
skin, the soothing light overtake all the doubts and fears she still 
held as she leaned out of the open windows.
	This was the first time she had watched the same sun rise upon a 
different planet. So alien yet so familiar a sight; it left inside a 
mix of emotions she dared not try and sort through.
	Blue eyes closed as she enjoyed this one moment of peace.
	She found herself wondering what Jeseme was doing. She had 
little ideas of whether it was day or night back on her homeworld, on 
Venus. Her older sister was probably still being the central draw to 
those social functions she had come to detest. Perhaps even now 
starting to look for potential suitors to become a husband.
	Myung's eyes opened.
	And she found her cheeks flushed, a bright pink. All because 
of...because of what? Her thoughts had been on Jeseme finding a lover. 
Of someone to embrace in quiet moments, to talk in laughter and 
whispers all through the night, to steal a kiss from when no one else 
was looking.
	Kiss....
	Myung blushed again. She suddenly remembered Magellan's quick 
kiss on her cheek as he had left her chambers the day before. Such a 
brief thing, taking only one moment; it was causing her heart to beat 
faster inside her chest. Did the caress of his lips upon her cheek 
captivate her this much?
	The sun broke across the horizon line, rays of light spilling 
out and driving back the darkness of night. This last act had 
transformed dawn into day, and with it Myung was satisfied.
	She turned back to face her chambers.
	Someone had slipped in and left her breakfast.
	Leaving the window, Myung sat down and began to eat. It was 
delicious food indeed, but she didn't eat much of it. Most was left 
untouched; hunger was being quelled by other thoughts that demanded 
most of her focus and attention.
	At least the grogginess from the crash had left her.
	"Sailor Senshi," she whispered distantly.
	Once believed to have been a legend, an old tale told to 
children of royal families so they might fall asleep and have 
beautiful dreams. Yet dreams sometimes have mysterious ways of 
becoming reality. Tales and whispers do not necessarily confine 
themselves to the pages of ancient, leather-bound books.
	Myung knew she could not deny the existence of the Sailor 
Senshi. She was one of them....


	"I have known for quite some time that this day would come," her 
father had said softly. 
	Those words had been spoken to her before her quiet departure 
from Venus and all its royal accessories. In the heat of the moment 
she had wanted to leave it all, throw it all away. The spirit inside 
of her was being confined, choked, by the courts of nobility. She 
loved her mother and father...but the life of a princess was not hers 
to belong to.
	And so she had intended to leave for a destination she did not 
know. Safe passage had already been booked on an outgoing vessel, 
bound for another planet. But as she crept through the halls, silent 
and swift, her father had intercepted her. He was there, leaning 
against one of the pillars that lined the deserted corridor.
	He had said nothing. A simple turn of the head, eyes focused 
solely upon her, was enough to make her stop. There was no confusion 
or surprise upon his face. As if he had been waiting for her, knowing 
that she would choose this corridor to slip through.
	"Father," she whispered.
	"Your destiny does not lay here in the palace, Myung," Venus' 
king stated. There was no anger in his voice, no malice or 
frustration. She had almost missed it, but she could hear in his words 
a sadness, a regret. 
	Letting go was harder than simply waking up to discover someone 
had already left. That was why she had planned this out in secrecy; 
her mother more than anyone would have never let her out of palace had 
she inquired about leaving the planet.
	The king stood, and motioned to the end of the corridor. That 
they finish together what she had intended to do alone. "Walk with me. 
Please."
	Myung nodded, and father and daughter quietly made their way 
through the palace's empty halls. It was strange to see such grandiose 
rooms and walkways so deserted. Many of the enchanted lights had 
dimmed in sensing a lack of hosts. Shadows, elegant and enigmatic, 
abounded everywhere.
	For a moment she thought to have glimpsed someone there in the 
darkness, a figure watching her not unlike a guardian. A distant 
memory, faded now from her mind, of eyes that shimmered like the 
midnight heavens.
	"My child," her father said. "Destiny is meant for the 
individual; each of us has a path we must walk alone. Others may cross 
through our way, but they are never on the identical path."
	He turned and looked down at her, a proud yet hidden smile on 
his face. "I think you are destined for something greater than what 
the walls of this palace could dream. And if I'm right, you will save 
not only Venus, but all of us in this little solar system we call 
home."
	For a moment he paused, drawing in breath to his lungs in a deep 
and deliberate motion. Myung understood what this action meant; she 
had been around him during debates and meetings long enough to know 
that he was about to reveal something that would have dire impacts for 
the future.
	"You know of the legend of the Sailor Senshi?" the king asked.
	"What does the legend have to do with me?" Myung asked in 
return.
	The corridor became a conjunction, and he followed her lead in 
taking the appropriate course. One set of open archways the father and 
daughter passed as they turned displayed a garden filled with silver 
orchids. The liquid nectar from these blooming flowers was the essence 
for Venus' somewhat infamous wine...or aphrodisiac, depending on who 
you heard the story from.
	"There is a great deal more to the legend than has been told as 
a bedtime story for little children," he explained. "You see, over a 
thousand years ago, an ancient manuscript was found along with a small 
artefact. Both were hidden within a secret chamber inside this palace, 
a room that not even the king and queen were aware existed. It took an 
Ancient--Dante, if that was his true name--to find the key that could 
open the lock."
	He sighed in reliving the legend, in retelling the tale. "On the 
manuscript was writing from a long dead civilization, one believed to 
have come from another part of our galaxy. To this day, no one knows 
where this language has originated from. And for a time, no one was 
able to read it--except for a mysterious magi who one day appeared, 
and was able to translate it."
	"Another Ancient?" Myung inquired.
	Her father nodded. "He never explained his origins; he just 
merely appeared and offered to help. The manuscript had been created 
by the use of magik as well as the artefact found with it. He may not 
have said anything aloud, but I suspect that this magik far surpassed 
anything he had ever seen. The way he held his breath upon first 
seeing it, the way his eyes, which shimmered like a thousand stars, 
narrowed...I don't know how to fully explain it. But this was beyond 
the powers of the Ancients themselves.
	"After the Ancient translated it, he came before the royal house 
and read it to the king and queen. It was a detailed prophecy 
foretelling of the Sailor Senshi destined to appear in our system. It 
also told of a powerful and devastating war that occurred long ago, in 
a time when the Sailor Senshi were numerous and spread among the 
stars. This war ended with a seemingly nameless evil being sealed 
away--though at the cost of all the Senshi being destroyed. But the 
manuscript also said that the Senshi would rise again to retake their 
rightful place as guardians of the galaxy."
	Myung was silent, taking in every word her father was saying. 
This was more than she had ever known about the legend. Sailor Senshi 
were said to be long-ago if not long-forgotten protectors, the female 
soldiers who stopped a great evil from consuming this world. There was 
no real happy ending; just the quiet assurance that the souls of those 
within the galaxy were safe.
	But a new uncertainty was plaguing her in the midst of the awe 
and mystery being slowly revealed to her. Why now was her father 
telling her this? Why did he deem it so important?
	The king continued regardless of her silent questions. "The 
scroll went on to foretell of a darkness that would consume everything 
in its path. And to defeat it, nine Sailor Senshi would rise from the 
ashes of their past to combat the darkness. Those Senshi would come 
from this solar system, and become the defenders of a great Empire 
that would last for an eternity."
	"What is this darkness it speaks of?" Myung asked quietly.
	Rumours of an army of shadows upon Earth were filtering more and 
more frequently into the hushed discussions among the nobility and 
courtesans. The ones who remained entirely silent about this were 
those in the military; that alone gave Myung reason to worry.
	Her father shook his head. "I do not know. The manuscript was 
being deliberately vague; perhaps one should not know too much about 
their own destiny."
	Something was being implied there. Myung chose to ignore it, 
both excited and fearful of its meaning. Lives were changed by that 
little word called 'destiny.' And not always for the better.
	Venus' king abruptly stopped walking, staring at her solemnly. 
"From each planet, someone would be chosen to become one of the 
Senshi, and fulfill their destiny as the guardians of a peace they 
would establish. When a chosen one was found, there would be a sign as 
proof that they were the Sailor Senshi once prophesied."
	"But what sign would there be, to let that person know who they 
were to become?" Myung asked.
	"That is where the artefact comes in," her father answered. He 
reached into the folds of his robes, and drew out a short yet elegant 
stick. Given its size, it might as well have been a writing 
instrument. Gold in colour, this artefact was marked with the rune of 
Venus at the top. 
	Myung found herself captivated by it, entranced by whatever 
magik it possessed. "It's beautiful," she said quietly.
	"This is the artefact found with the manuscript," her father 
said. "The Ancient who translated the manuscript called this item a 
'henshin.' There is supposed to be one for each planet, but as far as 
I know, this was the only one that has been found."
	The daughter looked up at her father, childish curiousity and 
adult dread mixing inside her. She could feel her heart starting to 
beat a little faster within her chest. There was an answer to all of 
this. Regardless of fears, the uncertainty if left alone would harm 
her.
	She had to know.
	"Then you know who the Sailor Senshi whom that belongs to
is?" she asked, her voice but a whisper.
	"Yes, I do," her father answered. "That person is you, Myung."


	...and so she had become Sailor Venus.
	Myung absently toyed with a croissant, musing endlessly over 
what her task now entailed. Certainly there was a thrill, an 
invigoration and adrenaline rush to becoming a Sailor Senshi. But her 
father had been quite clear that with the title came a grave 
responsibility.
	One Senshi against this foreordained darkness would not survive. 
No, that manuscript had prophecied nine Sailor Senshi. She would have 
to find the other eight soldiers...somehow. Currently her problem was 
trying to figure out how to do that. She probably wouldn't even 
recognize another Senshi unless she managed to run into them while 
they were in a sailor fuku.
	Myung doubted she would be *that* lucky.
	There was, of course, the possibility of asking Magellan to aide 
her. That was quickly dismissed; he would either send her back to 
Venus, or say she was a lunatic. There wasn't even a guarantee that he 
even knew who the Sailor Senshi were.
	She leaned back against her chair, letting out her frustrations. 
"This is going nowhere," she lamented, letting her gaze drift towards 
the open windows.
	Vlatmere's expanse was sprawled across her field of vision, not 
as luxurious as Venus' royal palace, yet holding its own proud regal 
aura. Magellan had promised her a tour of the castle for today; 
looking down at herself, still in a nightgown, Myung decided she might 
want to change into something more appropriate.
	The choice of wardrobe was somewhat limited; understandably, 
given her sudden and unexpected appearance, they did not have too many 
outfits for a lady her size. Yet what was present was more than 
elegant for her to wear; it almost made her blush again. These 
garments of Earth...they were so different from what she used to dress 
in upon Venus.
	A simple white gown was once more selected, accompanying that a 
yellow ribbon she would later weave in with her own tresses of golden 
hair. For now those tresses were draped over her shoulders; the ribbon 
would see to it that her hair remained behind her back.
	Myung drew herself a bath, and took her time soaking amidst the 
bubbles. Leisurely rubbing the washcloth along her arms and legs, she 
let her thoughts return to her new destiny as a Senshi. The warm water 
spread its steam across the bathroom, and her blonde bangs clung to 
her forehead.  
	Why had she been chosen? What was so special about her, that she 
would be set apart to wield one of those henshins, and become Sailor 
Venus?
	With a splashing of water, she lifted herself out from the tub, 
towelling herself off. The gown was slipped into, the yellow ribbon 
tying back her hair. And what of the henshin itself?
	What indeed?
	Myung felt a surge of panic course through her body as she 
suddenly realized she couldn't find it. The henshin had gone missing. 
Perhaps during the crash, or else last night when she changed 
garments. 
	"No...." she whispered, her palm covering her mouth.
	Without the henshin she could not transform. The Sailor Senshi 
of Venus was lost, and all because of her. Myung lowered her arms, 
closed her blue eyes and focused on the henshin itself. Where she had 
last seen it, what had happened to it. Its importance meant too much 
to her. That represented her duty, her destiny.
	She did not want to abandon it.
	Both hands went behind her back, balled into fists. And then she 
felt something grasped within her right hand. She brought her hands 
before her near unbelieving eyes. There, resting in her palm, was the 
henshin.
	Amazement could not begin the describe the expression on her 
face as she stared down at the artefact. It seemed to have appeared 
out of thin air. 
	"How...?" she wondered aloud, shaking her head.
	It had appeared when she focused her thoughts, when her hands 
instinctively reached behind her back as if to grasp what was truly 
not there. Her father had been right; the henshin was of magik.
	As an experiment, Myung took her hand and placed it behind 
herself again. She focused, eyes closing, knowing that for now the 
henshin's presence was not called for. When she brought her hand back 
out, the henshin was gone. Again she reached behind her, and when she 
pulled out her hand it was there again. With each time she learned to 
synchronize with the henshin's magik, the easier the reflex became.
	Soon absolute focus was no longer a concern. It was fast 
becoming an instinct, the bond between her and the artefact growing. A 
smile broke out on her face as she realized that there was almost no 
way she could lose it.
	An abrupt noise came from the door to her chambers.
	A knock.
	Myung nearly jumped, startled out of her reverie. Her arms went 
to her side, the henshin briefly lost from sight behind her waist. 
That briefness was all she required to have it become hidden once 
more.
	"Come in," she called out.
	Soundlessly, the door was partially opened. 
	Vlatmere's reluctant ruler appeared in the doorway. Dressed in a 
black uniform, adorned with a dark metallic breastplate and shin 
guards with gold inlays. A black cloak was upon his shoulders, 
everything brought to life with the dawning sunlight pouring through 
her windows. He appeared in every way a young man of royalty--and yet 
if he were to appear out of the darkness of other shadows, his 
appearance alone might make one step back in unexpected fear.
	"Is it alright to come in?" Magellan asked, cautious if not 
hesitant. And she couldn't help but smile to herself in catching that 
hint of excitement his ocean blue eyes possessed.
	Myung closed the distance between them, pulling him into her 
room. "Of course you can." 
	She reached the foot of her bed, letting herself fall onto the 
edge as she released his wrist. The princess sat there, letting 
Magellan take the chance to look her over in these Earthian garments.
	"You look lovely," he said distantly.
	Was a slight enchantment working itself on him?
	Myung's eyes twinkled at the compliment, letting her eyes 
appraise him as he returned the favour. "And you look very handsome 
yourself."
	His eyebrows were raised briefly, an awkward grin on his face as 
he looked away. "That's very kind, thank you. Did you sleep well?"
	She felt the mattress and covers beneath her, nodding slightly. 
Something was so alluring about his eyes, blue like the waters after a 
storm. 
	"Myung?"
	Peaceful and serene, yet not without a hint of danger, of those 
storms flaring up once more. If she could drown within those eyes, it 
would be a fate she would be happy with.  
	"Myung?"
	She snapped out of whatever had gotten into her, Magellan 
leaning closer to her with a concerned look on his face. He gave a 
relieved laugh in seeing her return to Vlatmere castle. "Are you 
alright?" he asked.
	The sheepish grin on her face was nothing she could even try to 
hide. "Yes. I'm sorry," Myung said quickly. "What were you saying?"
	"I asked if you were ready for your tour."
	She looked into his eyes. He looked into hers.
	And just then both Myung and Magellan realized how close their 
faces, their lips, were to each other's. Prince and princess abruptly 
pulled back, Magellan clearing his throat as a distraction from the 
moment.
	Myung seized the opportunity, rising to her feet and taking hold 
of his arm. "Shall we go?" she inquired.
	He nodded, and became her escourt.


	Sunrise came to GlenHawke.
	And it was beneath the crimson rays of the rising sun that found 
the Elven lord of Arana slowly stalking across temple grounds. His 
footsteps had a destination...and she was already waiting there for 
him.
	Mother Halefyne stood before her private chambers, silently 
watching Kakkyou approach. His magik seemed more possessed than usual; 
calm, rational, but possessed regardless.
	"We have to talk," he stated, not even slowing down his steps as 
he brushed past her. 
	"Another nightmare?" she asked.
	Kakkyou nodded, pausing in front of the building's threshold. 
Eyes of creamy jade never turned back to GlenHawke's mothering guide. 
"Like all the others before it. She hasn't stopped having them since 
that damned youma showed up. This is what I've come here to talk 
about."
	"A little presumptuous, aren't we?" Halefyne inquired. "In 
Elfhame, this sort of aggression may be normal--"
	Kakkyou whirled, glaring at her. "I would hardly call these 
circumstances normal, Halefyne," he hissed. "This place was violated 
by a demon under orders from a higher darkness. And ever since that 
night, Serenity has woken up on the verge of screaming. She bathes in 
the moonlight as if to rid herself the darkness that comes after her 
when she sleeps. And I've lost count of how many nights she has cried 
herself to sleep in my arms."
	Elven magik sparked, smoke rising out from a sphere that burned 
itself into the wooden planks of the veranda. Kakkyou was at the 
magik's centre, almost daring her to try and test his powers. He 
wanted to vent his frustration.
	She knew better than to tempt him even further.
	"Something happened to her then, to us all," Halefyne said 
evenly, her tone of voice subtly telling him to calm down. "I don't 
think even she remembers."
	She walked onto the veranda, now her turn to brush past him. "We 
can talk inside if you wish it," she told him quietly. "However, in my 
domain you are to obey my rules. Here my magik can easily rival your 
own."
	Kakkyou nodded. 
	The two adjourned inside.
	GlenHawke's inner sanctuary was one long chamber surrounded by a 
magik that both could feel in the air. Incredible murals were painted 
upon the paper screens lining the walls. His eyes caught sight of 
numerous hidden talismans, acting as barriers to amply Halefyne's 
magik within this place, and keep unwanted magiks out.
	At the far end was a large bowled fountain raised up on a 
pedestal. The ceiling above it rippled with an eerie blue light 
reflected from the waters inside. Mother Halefyne turned, gazing into 
the waters of the fountain. She read the water, and its ripples. 
Kakkyou could only stare at it and get a headache from the array of 
colours. 
	"What is this?" he asked.
	Halefyne smiled; a human like her could still surprise an Elven 
lord every now and again. "You'll see."
	Abruptly the waters began to bubble and surge, a spray of mist 
sweeping past them as the water began to take a life of its own. 
Amidst the ripples in the waters appeared an image. Serenity laid 
within the reflection, sleeping soundly beneath the covers of her bed 
where he had left her.
	"Everyone's afraid," Halefyne said quietly. "No one knows that 
Serenity was the target of this Reptilius beast, but that doesn't mean 
they are not afraid."
	The Elven lord nodded. "We were lucky that time. But others will 
come, and they will be far worse that Reptilius ever was." Kakkyou's 
eyes were solemn and wavering as he raised his head, and stared 
directly at the Mother of GlenHawke. "I wish to take her to a safer 
place," he stated. "I wish to take Serenity into Elfhame."
	Halefyne had been expecting this.
	"Out of the question," she countered, shaking her head. "I am 
well aware of the risk I put GlenHawke in should Serenity remain, but 
at the same time I will not put her life in danger by handing her over 
to the Elven."
	"I am their master and lord within Arana," Kakkyou said, his 
voice growing heated. "They obey me, out of fear and out of respect. I 
more than any know the risk of bringing in a human, and I am telling 
you there would be nothing for Serenity to fear in Elfhame."
	"No."
	The single world of denial hit harder than any magik either of 
them could have invoked. Kakkyou scowled, staring directly into her 
eyes with his own dragon green ones. His head tilted down towards the 
fountain, the light playing with the pallor of his skin.
	"I more than anyone else here wants to protect her," he said, 
his voice in but a low, chilling whisper. His arms were shaking, 
quivering in seething fury. "This request was but a formality. With or 
without your consent, Halefyne, I will take Serenity to Elfhame."
	Halefyne leaned over the edge of the fountain, staring directly 
at him. "But is that what Serenity truly wants?" she asked solemnly.
	His eyes watched the waters. 
	And he realized he was uncertain of her answer.


	The Man With No Name stood there within the crowded and rowdy 
streets of a city called Hakkeda. The ones who had gathered to form an 
audience around him and a den of thieves were backing away. He seemed 
quite calm, perfectly reasonable--despite standing on cobblestone 
soaked with blood, the torn remains of the thieves scattered around 
where he stood. He lifted one of his hands, rich crimson liquid 
dripping down from his soaked fingertips. The upper part of his sleeve 
was glistening in the light of a slowly dawning sun.
	This hand...he had sent it through a man's chest.
	Eyes once clouded over, now hauntingly clear like the heart of a 
storm, glanced down at the crumpled body next to his boots. He 
absently kicked the corpse off its side, studying the hole that had 
ripped through this thief's chest.
	His arm had jabbed forward in that moment, but instead of 
delivering a hard punch, he left his fingers extended. And they rammed 
through the man's ribcage, smashing bones and organs before bursting 
through the thief's back in a shower of blood.
	"Wh-what are you?" 
	Strange how he could hear the doomed man's hiss so clearly in 
his ears, even now that the man was dead. The trickle of blood on the 
thief's quivering lips was still there, but those eyes were distant, 
lost in a dark oblivion.
	The Man With No Name remembered the answer he had given:
	"I don't know. But evidently I am quite the killer."
	He stepped over the body, his boots quiet despite the blood and 
gore he was tracking through. Another corpse laid across the ring of 
spectators from him. A knife was lodged in that thief's head.
	The flash of metal echoed in the mind's cascade of 
recollections. He had whirled, snatching the throwing knife out of the 
air before it had a chance to find flesh. He in turn had launched it 
at the one who had first flung the knife, and the blade sank instantly 
into the thief's forehead.
	The Man With No Name paused, standing before a third body. This 
one was crumpled and twisted, contorted as a face now in eternal shock 
and disbelief laid in a pool of blood. That thief...he had snapped the 
man's neck with surprising ease, nearly tearing it off from the 
shoulders.
	It had originally been four against one.
	Their idea of a fair fight.
	Tinted, coin-sized lenses were drawn out from the folds of his 
coat, placed over the Man With No Name's storm-fed eyes. He slowly 
turned to the last thief standing. The one he had saved for last.
	That man was shaking, a little from terror and a little from 
pure rage over this new turn of events. Everyone around him was 
starting to grow frantic, afraid of being caught up in the battle.
	And killed.
	"You...." the thief growled, eyes wide and blazing.
	The Man With No Name began to laugh. It was callous, arrogant, 
knowing something they did not. The folds of his black redingote 
billowed out behind him, the white cross upon his sleeve shining in 
the light of the rising sun that slowly reclaimed the city's shadows.
	"You're in no position to laugh, blindman!" the thief shouted. 
Out from the folds the man's vest were drawn an army of shuriken 
throwing darts, each one snugly gripped between his fingers. "You may 
be fast, and you may be strong. But each of these darts is laced with 
a breed of Shokkan poison that will tear your mind apart and burn 
through your body in seconds."
	The thief released a sadistic grin, firm in his belief that now 
the odds were back in his favour. That the stranger dressed in black 
would not live to see the new day. How could any human dodge a legion 
of shuriken darts tipped with the deadliest magik known across the 
Solis System?
	And yet the Man With No Name continued to laugh.
	He stretched out his arms, looking to the skies as he slowly 
spun in a circle. As if savouring the sunshine like it was rain. This 
was the first time he could ever recall seeing daylight. This was a 
new memory to capture.
	Abruptly he stopped, the ends of his coat rustling around his 
body as he froze. And looked straight at this last thief, the first 
one who had foolishly challenged him.
	"Do you honestly believe that I came alone?" the Man With No 
Name asked. "When I awoke for the first time, I discovered that I had 
brought a few friends of my own into this world."
	He reached out towards the thief, opening his palm to the skies 
alight with orange and scarlet hues. A fire that crackled and burned 
as dark as the robes he wore erupted to life, engulfing his hand and 
fingers. There was no sign that he was being burned. But the malicious 
smile upon his face, the way the eerie flames danced in the reflection 
of his shaded lenses, revealed the sheer pleasure he was having in 
discovering what new things this world had to offer him.
	Something exploded from the fires, a shaft of shadows spewing 
out above the rooftops. The magik churned and rippled, cascading down 
over itself in a maddened frenzy. He could taste the magik swarming in 
life within this explosion of black fire.
	Necromancy.
	The summoning of the youma, of the demon world.
	A magik forbidden since the Golden Empire was first established. 
Those who were discovered allying themselves with such evil and dark 
powers were hunted down and killed. And here he unexpectedly held such 
power within his fingertips.
	Something emerged from the portal he had opened up. Twin wings 
of demon form and leathery texture unfolded from the depths of the 
fire. They spread wide, the wingspan enough to touch the buildings on 
either side of the street and cast everyone below in their shadow. A 
low, guttural snarl echoed out from the crackling flames; an elongated 
snout pushed through the churning darkness.
	Two eyes opened up from the beast's skull.
	And then another two eyes.
	All four shone as purest white, like snow if they were not truly 
albino. They narrowed as the rest of the creature pushed through the 
fires, sucking in a great breath in escaping its infernal womb to 
unleash a hideous bellow that shook the heart of the cobblestone 
streets. Two front legs came smashing down, pulverizing the stone into 
dust and crater. Claws razor-sharp and shimmering with unearthly light 
lined the ends of its paws.
	Coils of body poured out behind the head and neck, a thick yet 
tapering form spilling out upon the streets. A set of coils slammed 
down upon a tavern. The sheer weight from the scales caused the walls 
to buckle. They lasted for only a split second before the rocks 
shattered, and the tavern imploded. At last the end of its body 
appeared, two hind legs just as powerful and lethal as the front set 
crashing down upon the streets amidst a tail that swung all through 
the air in a frenzied dance.
	"What the hell?!" the thief exclaimed, stumbling backwards.
	"I think where in the hell would be more appropriate," the Man 
With No Name stated. He looked up at his little friend, this youma he 
had summoned out from the heart of the darkness.
	A black dragonwyrm.
	Panic washed over the crowds. It became a frantic mob as 
everyone scattered amidst screams. People were trampled, tables 
spilled over, entertainers leaping to safety. And through it all the 
Man With No Name remained oblivious. He gestured to the youma; it was 
a lesser one, and thus he could readily and easily control it. All he 
had to do was know its name.
	"Jabberwocky." 
	He pointed to the thief, who stood in place. Rooted in absolute 
terror, eyes wide and mouth agape, the one who had challenged a 
nameless blind man gawked in horror and disbelief at the monstrosity 
looming over him.
	"Finish him off for me," the Man With No Name stated, turning 
away as if to already dismiss the thief as a dead man. "I have other 
business to take care of."
	The Jabberwocky more than happy to oblige.
	Its four eyes stared at the thief, its neck curling around to 
examine its prey. And then the jaws were snapped open, saliva spraying 
out across the streets it a sticky, clear rainfall. Slender icicle 
fangs thrashed together as the youma lunged for its victim. 
	The thief cried out, throwing one handful and then a second of 
the Shokkan-tipped darts. The sharpened points found substance, and 
the darts sank completely into the youma's glistening skin. But the 
Shokkan magik never even slowed the beast down. If anything, it only 
made the Jabberwocky more ravenous.
	The Man With No Name walked away, crossing into an alley left 
untouched by the hordes of crazed revellers who were ready to murder 
one another if it meant their own escape. The chilling gales of demon 
roars echoed across the shadowed streetways, interrupted only with the 
sounds of a human scream and the breaking of human bones.
	A thief died.
	The Jabberwocky fed.
	And the Man With No Name vanished, his shadow long disappearing 
long before someone who could have been called the Law in Hakkeda 
managed to show up.


	Hours had passed since the dawning of the sun.
	And in that time Myung had seen so many incredible sights within 
the walls of Vlatmere castle. The castle itself was in the middle of 
what was known as Vlatmere City; the largest structure, composed of 
white stone towers, could be seen from almost anywhere in the city. In 
the midnight hours, it acted as a beacon amidst the darkness.
	So many things here on Earth were so different from Venus. The 
scents were unfamiliar, the air strangely sparce of the intoxicating 
aromas she had grown up with. The landscape Magellan showed her from 
the highest points in the castle were foreign, the slopes of the 
distant mountains a new sight for her to take in.
	Somewhere along the way, her hand found his, and together they 
walked through the expansive galleries and atriums the castle held 
inside. Of grand ballrooms and gushing fountains, of secret 
passageways leading into secret rooms, of chambers where the walls and 
ceiling were painted in grand designs. Everything was beautiful, and 
Myung found herself lost in the awe and laughter of a child first 
discovering something new.
	And through it all, Magellan watched her with a contended smile 
on his face. The only thing that seemed to matter in those hours was 
her laughter.
	A foursome of floating bubbles moved down the corridor where 
they walked. Myung stood on her tiptoes, leaning closer to the nearest 
sphere, blue eyes wide in curiousity.
	"They won't pop if you touch them," he said, cupping his palm 
beneath one of the bubbles and gently pushing it upwards. "But even 
still, be gentle with them."
	Myung was still captivated with her reflection in the curvature 
of the orb. This sort of thing she had never seen anywhere within the 
halls of Venus' royal palace. Crystal orbs, certainly, but never 
anything like an actual bubble.
	"Where did you find these?" she asked.
	"To be honest, I don't know," Magellan replied. "They've been 
around since I was a baby. These were my playtoys once--and from the 
stories I've been told, I was quite the terror with them."
	She poked the bubble in front of her, prodding it to float 
leisurely towards the wall. "Hard to imagine you being a terror," she 
remarked with a sly grin.
	With a feigned sigh of exasperation, Magellan stepped in behind 
her and leaned over her shoulder. "And I suppose you were the little 
saint when you were a child?"
	He had her there--though Myung was not about to admit it.
	The foursome of bubbles abruptly came back down, crowding around 
Magellan for attention. And within the transparent orbs appeared the 
image of a flower in bloom, petals slowly opening up to the warmth of 
the sunlight. He smiled and nodded to the bubbles, which began a 
procession.
	"Where are we going?" she asked as he took her hand in his once 
more.
	"You'll see," he answered. 
	He led her through a twisting skein of hallways, across chambers 
and down spiral staircases. And then at last he paused at the 
threshold of an archway, the bubbles jostling each other over his 
head. Beyond, sunlight was pouring in from above. An open courtyard 
tucked away within the base of Vlatmere castle, hidden from everything 
else.
	Myung was the first to enter.
	Blue eyes widened as she walked into a realm which seemed to 
know not time nor day. An ethereal sanctuary of nature, where anything 
that might have been wall was green vegetation. Cobblestone pathways 
curved amidst rows of scarlet flowers, levels upon levels rising up 
before her eyes. Petals were curled back, soaking up what the sunlight 
had to offer. 
	"A rose garden," she whispered.
	He brushed alongside her, taking her into the heart of this 
forest of flowers. They sat down on the edge of a pool of water, 
fountain spouts letting a small mist of water rain down on the 
blossoms.
	She looked into his eyes. "It's beautiful."
	Magellan's hand drifted down to one of the roses next to where 
he sat, fingers caressing the delicate petals. "My father's eternal 
hobby; when he wasn't dealing with the affairs of this province, he 
was in here. These roses meant everything to him."
	He stopped.
	Even speaking seemed a strained effort on his part.
	"He must have meant a lot to you," Myung said quietly. Her 
fingers found his, lacing together and giving his hand a reaffirming 
squeeze. How easily she could read his mind, understand what he had 
left unsaid. 
	"He died a short time ago; someone went out of their way to 
poison him." Out of frustration at the bitter memory, Magellan punched 
the back of his fist against the pool's edge. "I watched him slowly 
die, helpless to do anything!"
	Myung leaned against his shoulder, her head pressed into his 
chest. She could hear his heart beating; such a soothing rhythm. "I'm 
sorry," she whispered.
	He shook his head. "There's no need to be. You didn't know...and 
besides, nothing I can do will bring him back to me. Our worlds may be 
harsh, but we still have to face our future. I've been left here in my 
father's place, and will look over Vlatmere as he'd want me to."
	He took a deep calming breath of the garden's air, turned 
sideways. His ocean blue eyes were looking directly at her now. The 
rose garden was a vague second thought in his mind. "I should be the 
one who's sorry, Myung. Here I've been giving all my burdens to you, 
and you've listened to every word I've said."
	Their faces drifted closer.
	Lips seemed to instinctively draw nearer.
	Each one in turn let their eyes slowly close, all thoughts 
coming to a stop. The moment was their to seize, but they were content 
to take their time. Warm breaths tickled their skin, his hand reaching 
up to caress her neck, palm sliding upwards to her cheek.
	Abruptly Myung's stomach decided to make its presence known.
	She blushed, cheeks turning bright red as the growl echoed 
across the rose garden. And she ruefully realized that she had eaten 
very little at breakfast.
	With regret, the two pulled away.
	Magellan laughed, easing her embarrassment. "Well then, it would 
appear you've already chosen what we do next." He stood, and reached 
out his hand. "I've shown you enough of this castle; now let me show 
you this city. I'll take you out to one of the best eating 
establishments in all Vlatmere. You won't regret it."
	Myung smiled and nodded. "I'd like that," she answered, taking 
her hand in his and letting Magellan pull her up to her feet.
	There the two laughed together as they walked hand in hand out 
from the rose garden. And standing in beneath one of the trellises, 
hidden quietly from their view, Katherine Endymion smiled gently in 
hearing the words they shared. She looked down to the single red rose 
in her hand, and clutched it close to her heart.
	"You are so much like your father, my Magellan," she whispered, 
dark eyes slowly closing at the fond memories. A tear escaped, tracing 
a liquid path down her cheek before the droplet fell upon the rose. 
Scarlet blossoms changed colour, becoming blue like the tear she had 
cried.
	Dark and loving eyes looked at the fleeting silhouettes of Myung 
and Magellan once more. The hushed words she spoke were never meant to 
be heard, but still to be heeded. "Remember...in every rose lies a 
thorn. But if your love is true, you will accept the rose and its 
thorn as one."
	A long braid of dark hair draped itself over her left shoulder 
as she slipped out from the rose garden through a different doorway, 
leaving the two lovers alone. Such peace deserved to be undisturbed. 
And she was afraid that this fragile peace of the Golden Empire would 
be quickly shattered.


	She was dreaming again.
	A flood of pale pink blossoms rained down upon her, the petals 
delicate and fragile. With an open hand she reached out and let them 
gather in her palm. Outside of the shaft of light she found herself 
standing within, the petals were tinted pale sapphire. A world of 
darkness, and in it she was the only light.	
	Crystal blue eyes looked around the expansive shadows. Nothing 
could be seen but the dancing petals. Her hand gently closed, cradling 
the petals she had let gather in her palm. She knew these flowers. 
Somehow she recognized this beauty, this scent falling all around her. 
	"Sakura," she said quietly.
	Cherry blossoms....
	Serenity turned, trying to find another source of light amidst a 
darkened dream. This was unlike the others, those terrifying night 
visions of being chased, of those violet eyes that taunted and 
savoured her fear.
	The dream rippled.
	Changed.
	Became something new as darkness was pulled back, shadows 
turning into veils and curtains. A scene without foreign light yet 
possessing its own haunting glow was laid out before her. Serenity 
kept the palm of cherry blossoms close to her breast. She stood quiet 
and still; only her long trails of golden blonde hair moved, billowing 
out behind her with a wind she could neither see nor feel.
	A girl, not any older than she, was laid out upon a bed before 
her. The girl was sleeping--not peacefully though, as her eyes 
violently rolled beneath closed eyelids, trickles of sweat running 
down her face and causing stray bangs of raven dark hair to stick 
against her skin.
	"Who are you?" Serenity asked the sleeping girl.
	There was no reply.
	The raven-haired girl began to lift from off the bed, floating 
into the air. And then another entered, sauntering leisurely, 
seductively, from the darkness of this dream. A silhouette began to 
draw colours and contours, until at last the newcomer's face was 
revealed.
	Serenity found herself taking a step back.
	In many ways this woman resembled the sleeping child. A face 
older, matured, the shoulder-length, ravenwing hair spilling out down 
far past her waist. But those eyes....those two violet eyes were alive 
in a darkest of fantasies.
	She knew those eyes.
	The eyes which stalked her dreams.
	Serenity's hands went over her mouth. "No...."
	A giggle escaped the woman's lips as she drew out an exquisite 
and lethal weapon. Atop a slender and decorated pole-arm was a 
wickedly curved blade. Violet eyes glanced at the woman's reflection 
in the blade of a silent glaive. The Dark Messiah gave her name:
	"Mistress Nine."
	The glaive was taken up, its blade positioned above the hovering 
girl. Winds began to stir, cold and harsh and scattering the rainfall 
of petals in a violent fury. Serenity gave a startled cry as the 
cherry blossoms in rapid succession were shattered, the fragile 
flowers torn apart by a new rain of waterfall that cut like glass.
	Her palm was bleeding, the skin cut by a falling droplet and 
letting loose a crimson trickle. She looked to Mistress Nine, 
desperate to understand this new nightmare. The Dark Messiah only 
laughed even more, eyes wide in a frenzied bloodlust. Long black hair 
flowed out behind the woman's form as she raised the Silence Glaive, 
the tip of its blade poised to strike down the sleeping girl.
	And Serenity's crystal blue eyes widened in horror.
	"NO!!" 
	Shining metal was stained scarlet as a geyser of blood sprayed 
out from the sleeping girl's chest. Hotaru's eyes flew opened, and she 
screamed as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper still. Her body 
fell from the air, crashing down onto the bed, covers stained by the 
rich flow of blood from her wound.
	Mistress Nine laughed again, savagely pulling out the Silence 
Glaive. Hotaru's body convulsed and then was still. Beautiful violet 
eyes looked to Serenity before they grew dark and dim. Her body began 
to dissolve, pale skin becoming pale petals.
	The cherry blossoms were scattered as Hotaru disappeared. And 
Serenity was left there, fallen onto her knees and sobbing from the 
hellish vision. She looked up at the Dark Messiah, tears spilling down 
her face as her chest heaved from the frantic gasps for air.
	"Why?" she demanded, her voice unable to be anything more than a 
hoarse whisper. "Why are you doing this to me?"
	The Messiah of Silence did nothing to close the distance between 
them. She stood there, tall and towering over the weeping Serenity. 
The Silence Glaive dripped the blood of a young girl who never 
deserved such a fate.
	And then a new shadow flickered to life.
	Standing sideways in behind Mistress Nine, looking out to a 
world of darkness, a cloaked figure appeared. In his hands was a 
staff, its ornamented top adorned with metallic rings that chimed 
together and echoed across the expanse of the dream. The edges of the 
drawn hood rippled around a hidden face until he reached with his hand 
and pulled it away.
	The Raithe turned, eyes of midnight heavens looking at her.
	And then he was gone.
	"Awaken...."
	This chorus of whispers she could barely hear as she wrapped her 
arms around her chest, holding herself. A gentle and sad melody was 
sung as she knelt there, huddled and frightened.
	"Awaken...."
	Crystal blue eyes were squeezed shut as she shook her head, 
trying to stop her body from trembling. "Why is this happening to me?" 
she cried. 
	Awaken....


	The day was so full of promise and promises as they left the 
Raven's Crow. Numerous patrons and workers who recognized the prince 
by his armour were unable to contain their grins at the sight of their 
ruler being led by the hand by a beautiful young woman with long and 
flowing blonde hair.
	"Did you see the way he stared at her as they ate?" one asked.
	Another said, "Perhaps this is what he needs to get over the 
melancholy of his father's death."
	"I think it's cute," a waitress remarked to the bartender. She 
sighed, indulging herself in dream. "Oh, how I wish Magellan would 
look at me like that!"
	Cleaning one of the wine glasses out, the bartender rolled his 
eyes. "There are tables that could use to be cleaned, Alyssa."
	The waitress, a young woman not even having seen her seventeenth 
birthday, sulked at the chiding. "You're just jealous. Admit it: they 
make a good couple."
	"I'd be more concerned with that girl's origins myself," the 
bartender stated. "There's something about her...I don't know what, 
but Magellan should watch himself."
	Such whispers and gossip were lost from their ears as the couple 
in question stepped into the sunshine. Myung smiled as she nearly 
bounced through the front doors, hand held in Magellan's grasp as he 
tried to keep up with her. That had been everything he had promised as 
an eating establishment. And more.
	Again Myung found herself overcome with such strange new tastes 
to sample. The chocolates especially were of a different texture; 
Venus prided itself on its own sweets and candy, but Earth food held 
its own distinct flavour. It would take some time to get fully 
accustomed to it, but she liked it regardless.
	The afternoon was for the most part a blur of sights and sounds, 
of all the mysteries and discoveries that Vlatmere had to offer. 
Marketplaces, taverns, stores, halls; even the landing platform for 
incoming air vessels was not left alone by their explorations.
	He let her do the leading for most everything, explaining when 
she had a question to ask. It seemed selfish, but he was glad that she 
had fallen from the skies. To be here now with him, letting him find 
new and unexpected life in her smile, in the way the sun caught her 
tresses of golden blonde hair which spilled down her shoulders.
	Magellan let his gaze drift to a fountain across the courtyard, 
one that had for the moment captured Myung's curious and wandering 
eye. 
	He was starting to believe in a perfect world once more.
	He saw himself living within it as he looked into her eyes.
	"Myung," he began.
	The attack came without warning.
	Magellan gave a startled shout as Myung was abruptly torn from 
his grip, the princess tumbling harshly across the street before her 
body slammed into the base of the fountain. She laid there, eyes 
closed, her body breathing yet still motionless.
	"Myung!" he exclaimed.
	Something shot through the air, large and dark and but a blur in 
his vision. And it was lunging right for him. Magellan twisted his 
body, dodging something that nearly took off his head. He winced as he 
felt his cheek grazed, blood drawn from whatever was attacking.
	The rest of the blur struck him in the shoulder, enough force 
and momentum behind it to send his feet off the ground. Magellan 
toppled over, his head reeling from the shock of the impact. He 
struggled to get back on his feet, pressing a palm against his face to 
see how badly he had been cut.
	There was only a trickle of blood.
	The wound was superficial at worst.
	His eyes say Myung again, the princess laying crumpled at the 
foot of the fountain. "Myung!" he shouted, moving towards her.
	Suddenly another blur of motion pounced, sliding across the 
ground to stand between him and Myung. He leaped back as a cloud of 
dust was sent billowing into air from the feet of the assailant. 
Moments later his eyes of ocean blue beheld the towering form before 
him, an ominous silhouette with the sunlight cast behind its back.
	It was a youma.
	Reptilian in appearance, body lined with leathery and scaled 
skin, it stood upon its hind legs. A powerful tail twitched behind it, 
kicking up more dust from the street. An elongated face with bulging 
eyes stared down at him, at the shadow he was cast within. This 
creature stood a good two heads taller than he did.
	The youma was drooling, growling as it watched him. Saliva was 
wiped off by the back of its hand, fingers splayed to reveal enormous 
and lethal claws. The thing could neatly impale him through a wall 
with just one of those. Muscles rippled as the beast came crashing 
down, its front hands denting the street from the impact with the 
cobblestone.
	Hand gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword, Magellan stepped 
back. Whatever this demon was supposed to be, he wanted to put as much 
distance between himself and it as possible.
	Cries went up from the others in the courtyard as men and women 
fled the area. Many watched hidden around corners and behind mostly-
closed doors. And all were fearing for their young ruler.
	Something that might have been a laugh filtered out from the 
creature's mouth. "Magellan Endymion...." A long, forked tongue snaked 
out from its mouth, running along its lips. The youma's eyes narrowed.
	"Die."
	The prince's entire body was on edge, tension screaming to be 
released in an explosive heat of battle. "Don't I get a say in this?" 
he inquired darkly.
	"Your father had no say...why should you be any different?" 
	Powerful reptilian legs lifted from the ground, the youma 
swiftly darting around Magellan. He kept his weapon sheathed, 
oblivious to the sweat trickling down his forehead. Everything was 
riding upon how well he could read this creature's moves; it was not 
about to attack him. Not yet.
	This thing had another surprise in store for him.
	"What would you know about my father?" the prince demanded, his 
voice even but cold. Almost menacing in tone and murderous with each 
word.
	Another run of the tongue across the lips came from the youma. 
"Your father died swiftly...but your death...." It laughed, lips 
parting to display clenched jaws and rows of slender, wicked teeth. 
"Yours will be quick...and very painful."
	His eyes narrowed.
	Ocean blue started to cloud over with an enraged storm, now 
glaring at the beast. The murderous gaze seized hold of his eyes. 
"You," he hissed. "You poisoned my father?"
	"Not personally...." 
	Magellan glanced over his left shoulder as he saw another youma 
stepping into the light. A third emerged from the shadows on his 
right. And here he was enclosed between all three of them.
	He kept his solid grip on the sword hilt, vision darting from 
one creature to the next. It would be a miracle if he could take all 
three on at once--especially if they used Myung as a hostage. The 
youma began to close in around him, snarling and snapping their jaws, 
spraying foam and spit through the air.
	Magellan pivoted to face one. And then pivoted again to face the 
one that had been behind him and was now advancing. Too much movement 
and not enough room to fight.
	He grimaced. "Shit."
	Where the hell was Frederic when you actually needed him?
	One youma leaped forward, landing just a breath away from where 
he stood. It never attacked, leering in front of him and opening its jaws. 
Putrid air reached Magellan's nose. His grip on the sword never wavered.
	"Metal?" the creature taunted. "That...is supposed to stop us?"
	Magellan backed away, tilting the scabbard. The blade of the sword 
was unsheathed a few inches. Saying anything now would be a mute point; 
they were enjoying the play before the kill.
	Their leader growled, pawing at the ground before slowly closing in. 
All three were crowding him, quite possibly to all converge on him at once. 
"You are not going to survive this...young Endymion."
	"And after you," the last one snarled, a malicious grin pointed 
towards Myung's fallen form. "We shall take her...so weak and helpless, she 
is."
	Ocean blue eyes narrowed. The storm within them was fed.
	Magellan drew his sword, turning defiantly towards the first youma 
that had attacked him, that had done this to Myung. "Touch her, and I swear 
I will make your death as agonizing as I can."
	The reptilian demon's lips curled into a savage smile. "Really?" it 
sneered, opening its jaws and unleashing a howl that caused the prince's skin 
to crawl.
	And with that, the beast closed its fist, skin rippling as its fingers 
seemed to fuse together. Magellan's heart was racing as a giant claw 
suddenly extended from the outside of its forearm, this one longer and 
deadlier than anything else the youma had displayed.
	Drawing back its right arm, the demon charged.
	Magellan stood his ground, eyes watching the claw protruding from 
the youma's arm. All his training, all his sparring, all the knowledge he had 
been taught about combat and strategy; here was the moment he would either 
prove his teachers right, or die trying.
	He never realized his breath was being held as he dropped into a 
crouch, the towering form of the creature fast approaching. He was beneath 
its shadow now as it seemed to strain higher on its hind legs.
	Now was not the time to act.
	He waited.
	And the opening came. The muscles in the beast's arm tightened, 
flexed in tension as it pulled back its joint even further to deliver the strike. 
Magellan pushed off the ground, lunging for the youma as he brought up his 
sword in a vicious arc.
	The distance between them shortened faster than what the youma 
had anticipated. The claw found only empty air, and the demon roared, 
enraged as it saw the edge of Magellan's blade catch the sunlight. 
	The roar was cut off as a clean echo of cold steel slicing through the 
demon's torso resounded across the courtyard. Magellan tightened his grip on 
the sword as he swung the weapon, keeping the pressure high and letting the 
forward momentum of the youma seal its own fate.
	In a storm of blackened gore, blood bursting forth from the ruptured 
flesh as dark as the heart of a shadow itself, the creature was cut in half. 
	All the tension on his sword disappeared.
	Magellan quickly spun to counteract the follow-through of the 
motion, sliding to an abrupt stop on the cobblestone. He turned his head, 
watching as the youma let out a hiss of air. The upper torso fell away from 
the rest of its body, a sea of black blood spreading across the cobblestone.
	The prince straightened his stance, raising the sword and taking a 
moment to survey the dark ooze that was dripping off the edge of the blade. 
Ocean blue eyes looked back at the two remaining reptilian beasts.
	"Anyone else?" he inquired.
	Both youma snarled, dropping onto all fours and circling him from 
opposite sides. He found himself pivoting rapidly, trying to keep both of them 
in his vision at one time. Guaranteed if he lost sight of one, he'd pay for it 
with his life.
	Neither one seemed cocky now.
	If anything, they were really pissed off.
	One of the creatures reared up, giant claws extending out from each 
of its forearms. The second youma followed in suite, unsheathing its own pair 
of claws. Magellan looked to the first, eyes widening.
	The second youma attacked. 
	With a furious speed it charged, ready to rake down each claw in 
succession upon whatever part of the prince's body it could cut apart. 
Magellan heard the noise, caught only a glimpse of the movement. Instinct 
kicked his body and he whirled, bringing his sword upwards in a wide arch. 
His intuition saved his life.
	Blade struck against claw, sparks flying as the edges collided. 
Magellan jerked his head back out of reflex; the claw was a breath away from 
impaling itself in his skull. The two razor edges slide alongside each other, 
bouncing from the deflection. Magellan saw another opening, crouching for a 
stance designed to send his sword driving through the demon's back.
	Suddenly the other youma leaped over the first, jabbing its claws at 
his face as it descended from above. The prince had just enough time to bring 
up his sword, deflecting this new attack. The beast's inertia sent them both 
tumbling over, and Magellan let his back curl with the cobblestone. All the 
energy he could gather in that split second was seized to push with his legs 
and let the youma be carried by his feet over the rest of him.
	Out of control, the creature shrieked before bouncing off  the street 
and then crashing into the side of a building. Its form crumpled to the 
ground, head sliding down against the wall. A trail of black ooze was left as 
it slumped over.
	Magellan sprang back to his feet.
	There was still one more youma lurking.
	And he found it already charging towards him.
	Magellan quickly sprang to his feet in time to face the last standing beast. 
He brought his sword up, frantically deflecting blow after blow made by the 
creature's claws. The force of the strikes were causing his arms to grow numb 
from holding the sword, and he began to back away to avoid being slashed.
	All too quickly he realized he was being backed into a corner. In a 
few short steps, his back would be against the wall, and he would have 
nowhere to go. He blocked another strike. And then spun around and raced 
towards the wall.
	A twisted smile was upon the youma's face as it lunged, both arms 
driven forward to strike down the prince, pin his face to the stone. But they 
found nothing as Magellan jumped and let his feet hit the wall. With an 
instant of leverage he kicked himself backwards, vaulting high over the 
youma's head. Helpless stone was pulverized by its claws.
	Magellan never even gave himself a chance to breathe as he landed 
behind the demon, and with a shout he rammed his sword into the youma's 
back. The beast howled as the blade smashed through bone and dark matter, 
falling silent moments later with a strangled gurgle upon its lips. 
	It didn't move from where it was pinned to the wall.
	The prince released his grip on the sword, stumbling back as he 
wiped a few droplets of the youma's blood from his face. To think that he 
could have punched through demon and then stone with his weapon.
	"For my father, you bastard," he said between gasping lungfulls of 
air.
	And then Myung screamed.	
	Magellan spun around, eyes widening as he saw the second youma 
still alive. Black rivers flowed down its face, dripping into hers as it wrapped 
one set of fingers around her throat. The other arm was raised into the air, 
the larger claw shooting out from the forearm. The tip of the savage edge was 
poised directly above Myung's head.
	The distance between them was too great.
	Nothing could be done.
	A haunting chill seized the prince's body as he knew there was no 
chance of him reaching Myung in time.
	Bulging eyes glared at him. "She...dies!"
	In moments where life and death decide the course of futures and of 
fates, everything slows to become its own eternity. The claw was lifted higher 
as the youma's muscles tensed, ready to slice the princess apart. And 
Magellan could see it all in a surreal and distant blur of colour.
	This princess, whose golden hair smelled of winds he had never 
known before, whose blue eyes captivated him even when he tried to sleep a 
dreamless sleep. She who had been placed under his care, his protection 
when he rescued her from the debris of the crashed shuttle. The one who 
unknowingly taught him to laugh again, to enjoy Vlatmere and life itself.
	The young woman he was falling in love with.
	And now she was going to die.
	Magellan threw out his hand in a vain effort to reach her, fingers 
splayed and arm outstretched. "MYUNG!!" he screamed.
	He begged, pleaded for someone, something, to let her live.
	Magik answered his call.
	A flood of power surged through him, striking his body like a wave 
of crashing water and sending through his veins a burning fire that exploded 
from his outstretched palm. 
	Streaks of yellow flew from his hand at a speed no arrow could have 
ever hoped to match. Roses of hues that echoed like the colour of her long 
hair shot through the air. They numbered three in total, and they were more 
than enough to finish the job. Each one let its sharpened stem sink without 
mercy into the youma's body.
	One sank dead center in the demon's chest. Another sliced through 
its neck, a gush of black blood following in its wake. And the third buried 
itself in the beast's forehead just above the eyes. Seconds later it exploded, 
turning the reptilian head into a fine mist of dark haze.
	The force from the impact sent the youma falling backwards, rolling 
across the cobblestone as droplets of darkness rained down around it. 
	Magellan could feel his heart pounding fiercely within his chest, but 
each beat was a dull thud in his ears. The sweat and dirt and blood on his 
face was of no consequence. His exhaustion was lost and forgotten in that 
moment.
	In the past, his father had been able to pull red roses from thin 
air...but never anything like this. The prince had kept the rose garden out or 
respect for his father, even though he himself had never shown any sign of 
symbiotic magik with the flowers.
	He looked down to his hand, and then up to Myung.
	She was staring at the headless beast in shocked silence, fixated on 
the blossoming petals protruding from the youma's chest. Slowly her face 
turned towards Magellan, but she was unable to say anything.
	Magellan moved as fast as his legs would allow, half walking and 
half tripping to where Myung sat. He collapsed onto his knees, smiling 
weakly as he wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek.
	"Are you alright?"
	"I-I'm fine," Myung replied, blue eyes still wide. "How did you do that?"
	"I don't know," he said. "It just happened. I saw you there, and saw my life 
ending with yours."
	He raised the hand that had thrown the roses. Fingers extended, and 
then curled up to make a clenched fist. It seemed like a normal hand. Yet he 
could still feel the magik causing his skin to tingle. 
	"My father held a magik that allowed him to draw red roses from 
the air. But never anything as extreme as what just happened."
	Myung brushed the stray bangs of dark hair away from his eyes. 
"Maybe he could," she countered. "But he just never felt he had to use that 
ability. Maybe all your ancestors had this power, and just chose not to use it."
	Magellan shook his head, using the rim of the fountain to get back 
on his feet. "No...only my father could work with magik and roses before me. 
But perhaps I'm the first to be able to do this."
	He bent over the fountain for a moment, taking the chance to gather 
some water in his palm and splash it against his face. The reflection of 
Vlatmere's ruler stared back at him with uneasy eyes. Such an incredibly 
devastating power locked within a rose; the magik was something to indeed 
be reckoned with.
	Myung saw the uncertainty in his eyes, the burdens he was still 
reluctantly carrying. The world was still relentless in its pace, leaving him 
behind to work through the confusion. His father's death, the pressures of his 
position, the mounting chaos caused by the Shadows, and now this new 
magik. Her own destiny as a Senshi seemed light compared to what seemed 
to rest on his shoulders. Or had she yet to feel the full responsibilities of her 
own position?
	Blue eyes closed for a moment.
	After all this, she could no longer keep secrets from him. Trust was 
meant to be a mutual thing. Like love. And she could not deny nor hide the 
feelings she had for this Earthian prince.
	Myung gently pulled on his arm. "Magellan, I need to tell you 
something. We need to go somewhere where we can be undisturbed."
	He glanced back at the corpse of the reptilian youma. "Maybe we 
should wait until the clean-up crew arrives."
	She shook her head. "This cannot wait," she urged him. "Please, 
let's go to a place where we can be alone."
	Magellan looked at her with a confused expression. "What is it?" he 
asked.
	Suddenly the waters in the fountain exploded, a damp mist spraying 
past them as a fourth and final reptilian youma made its presence known. 
Magellan grabbed hold of Myung, throwing them both down on the street as 
the creature soared over their heads, poised to strike down a claw that could 
impale them both.
	"DIE!!" it howled.
	And then something screamed through the air.
	A split second later, the youma was killed as a lethal arrow went in 
through one eye and out the other. Limbs flailed and thrashed as its body 
twisted amidst its flight, black ooze spraying out in every direction. The 
youma crashed down next to Myung, tail twitching a few times before it went 
still.
	Magellan lifted his head, dared to open one of his tightly closed 
eyes.
	Cautiously stepping around the fountain, ready to draw back another 
arrow, was Frederic. "Am I late as usual?" the young man inquired.
	The prince of Vlatmere looked around as more armed guards 
swarmed into the courtyard, each one ready to fight any more youma that 
decided to make an appearance. He glanced over at the demon corpse.
	"I think it's quite dead," Magellan said.
	Suddenly the arrow was drawn back, Frederic firing the lethal 
projectile into the youma's exposed throat. The arrow sank in, drawing 
another river of burbling darkness. For a moment the demon's body spasmed.
	Frederic shrugged, pushing back his red hair. "You can never be too 
careful." He winked at Myung. "There'd be hell to pay from him if I let 
anything happen to you, Milady."
	Myung blushed slightly at that.
	She and Magellan were helped to their feet by Frederic. The guards 
were already working on removing the youma corpses, and checking to 
ensure no others were lurking. Magellan held Myung close to him as the trio 
walked out from the courtyard.
	"What were they after?" Frederic asked.
	"Both of us," Magellan answered solemnly. "Me especially. I've 
never seen a creature like that, Frederic. They moved differently than the 
others reported to be in the ranks of the Shadow armies. These ones talked, 
taunted, fought like humans."
	Frederic nodded slightly. "Probably designed to be assassins. Who 
knows what sort of blak magik was used on them?"
	Myung felt Magellan's arm around her tense.
	"Look," Frederic said, stopping. "I had better lead the clean up, 
make sure we're alone here in Vlatmere. I'll have a few guards escourt you 
into the castle; the barrier wards should protect you two once you're inside."
	He whistled to one set of guards, and then waved them over. 
Sighing, Frederic rubbed the base of his neck. "Let me worry about this mess 
for now, Magellan. You two just worry about getting cleaned up. Maybe take 
a bath...though together or separately is entirely up to you."
	Magellan massaged his temples at that, suppressing a groan.
	Myung just smiled to herself.
	"Frederic," the prince sighed in exasperation. "Do you mind not--"
	He abruptly stopped as a cold chill seized his body. Sweat found its 
way through his skin, droplets trickling down his face. Ocean blue eyes were 
wide, shaking as Magellan slowly turned his gaze to the heavens.
	"Magellan?" Frederic asked.
	His entire body was on edge, and he fought back the sudden urge to 
vomit. Heart racing, sweat pouring, body quivering and he didn't even know 
why. A prickle was on his skin, a sharp reminder of the magik his family 
lineage held.
	This was about magik.
	Magellan lifted his head higher, staring at the skies. Half of him was 
terrified to discover where the origins of this dread laid. The other half had to 
know so he could sleep tonight.
	Daylight became dim.
	And for a brief moment as he stared into the epicentre of a starry 
explosion, Magellan could see a shockwave rippling across the vast darkness 
of space. Electric in colour, furious in demeanour, it radiated out in dazzling 
hues of amber, sapphire and violet. But that was all contained within a brief 
moment, where he could see the skies above before the ensuing flash of light 
nearly blinded him.
	Magellan whirled, closing his eyes and looking away as he threw his 
hands in front of his face, letting his own shadow act as a shield for Myung. 
Never before could the sun have produced such an epic display to rival the 
vast shadows of the cosmos. The light was slow in fading away, the first burst 
of whitened hue bathing otherwise blue skies already gone. 
	But as he allowed his eyes to see once more, Magellan found himself 
watching what resembled a visible solar wind radiate forth across the Solis 
System. The winds whistled slightly in the afternoon air, but he could hear 
nothing of this distant explosion.
	He was vaguely aware of his trusted friend slowly joining his side. 
The two watched the waves of magik crackle and flow, the tails lashing out 
wildly towards the epicentre. Suddenly he could see hundreds upon hundreds 
of rapid flashes, tiny bursts of light that were sparkling in a long line that 
seemed to be spreading out across the entire sky.
	"What the hell was that?" Frederic said quietly.
	Magellan shook his head. "I don't know."
	But the princess in their midst knew. The magik of the henshin, of 
becoming a Senshi, had heightened her other senses. The wave of magik was 
one she suddenly recognized. Chillingly, perfectly recognized. A trembling 
hand went over Myung's mouth as she watched the skies beyond burn with 
incredible fire.
	"Aurora...."


	The Man With No Name smiled as he saw the explosive lights in 
the sky. Other revelers here in Hakkeda one by one stopped their festivities to 
watch the display in awed silence, in ignorant bliss. It was strange that he 
would know exactly what it meant. 
	A planet had just died. 
	And with it's death, he was born.
	Light from the afternoon day sun caught the reflection in his shaded 
lenses, the cool winds pulling at the ends of his redingote. The white cross 
was bathed in colours of red and orange from the flashing lights above. 
	The Man With No Name shifted his stance from atop one of the 
buildings. An epiphany he had been waiting for since he had first awoken 
came to his mind.
	Sailor Senshi.
	Those were the ones he was waiting for.
	"So," he said quietly. "At last the war has begun...."




		THE WAR IN HEAVEN FALLS TO EARTH.

		CHRONICLES OF THE MESSIAH WARS....





Thanks:

	To Sailor Skuld, who's been incredibly supportive of my
	efforts to finish what Dark Messiah began. It's nice to know
	that I can annihilate a planet, and she lets me get away
	with it. ^^

	To Todd Foster, my Messiah Wars counterpart. A number of the
	scenes between Magellan and Myung are my own retelling of a
	story he has already created. My humblest thanks goes out to
	him for all the contributions he's made to the CoT: Infinity
	trilogy, all the patience he has shown with my writing, and
	more than anything else, all the fun we've both had in
	starting our own little war amidst the Circles of Time
	playing fields.

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