Crystal

:O vampire FTW! xD
hehe, i re read some of ur story, makes more sence now

cant w8 for the next chapter , its so damm good!

kep up the good work :P

The story is great, man! And you made my characer a wise sailor, which is wicked cool.

EDIT: Oh, I almost forgot: you should post this on the HoP site, too. I'm sure everyone would get a kick out of it.

Thanks again Pister and Tera for your kind comments! As I finish up with this fic I have been looking at other places to post it, and, if you guys want it - a sequel. Some things have been happening recently - soon I may start a working life and to top things off, alotta folks down here talking about some impending tsunami right here in the Caribbean, in about 2 months. Well, damn. Especially since my country is mostly below sea-level. On another, less disturbing note, I just finished up the next chap, and it doesn't exactly follow a familiar point of view. Still I hope you guys enjoy it! Hopefully this will clear up some things, and end one story arc. Here's Chapter 26, and here's hoping that nothing too serious will happen to us folks down here.

Broken

There was a blinding flash and the sky above was ripped apart by invisible claws as a giant crystal burned through the clouds towards the earth. There was little time to think, far less act, before her world exploded into bright light and then fell away into the blackest void.

“Diana!” screamed a voice. It sounded muffled and far away; strained and desperate.

She opened her eyes slowly, and her environs slowly coalesced before them. Her world was blurry, and her body was in such pain that she could feel nothing. Her head throbbed as if split open, and such heat was consuming her that she thought that every square inch of her flesh was on fire. A gigantic weight was upon her; she could not move.

Then she saw him, crawling towards her. His clothes were nothing more than strips of rags, charred and frayed. He alone in her vision was clear, but he looked so in pain…. Dwayna, what happened?

“Diana!” he hollered, inching ever closer.

“Karak….” She whispered. Her body felt drained and weak, and it took all of her willpower to just keep her eyes open. I need to move…gods, why can’t I move?

“Diana!” Karak cried again, “Diana! Please, answer me!” he stretched out his hand towards her, but still he was out of reach.

She managed to raise her hand, but as it passed her face when she tried to extend it, she realised that it was broken in at least three places. Her elbow bent backwards and her fingers were so broken that not one of them could move. They looked more like jagged teeth than fingers. Diana let her hand fall to the ground and she cried. Her salty tears burned her face as they streamed downwards. Why can’t I move? I have to move!

She struggled to worm her way from underneath whatever pinned her down, but for the love of Dwayna she could not move. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia settled upon her, and for a moment, Diana panicked. I have to get this thing off of me! Holy shit I’ve got to get out! I…I…f**k! In her frenzy, she had turned her head on a side, and through her right eye she could make out the features of the large thing upon her.

Several faces of crystal gazed down at her, their colours shifting like a weak kaleidoscope. All above her the crystal stretched, until it was lost to her eye in the blackened soil beneath. Still, immense heat cooked her. Gods! Dwayna! What is this?!

“Diana!” Karak screamed, thrusting his hand towards her again. The intense heat seared off his flesh, but ever he tried to get closer to her. Diana knew that it was futile. I…I can’t…move… She could not move her jaw to speak, and her face felt so numb that she was not even sure that she still had a jaw.

Death was coming for her. Already Diana could feel Grenth’s greedy breath on her exposed soul. She could hear his evil whisperings. She turned back at Karak and tried to speak for the last time. She would have no more strength left for another attempt.

Karak, I love you still… “Help me?” she whimpered.

The monk read her lips, and he jumped forward again, only to be repelled by the heat. He broke down in heart-wrenching sobs, clawing at the earth like a desperate animal. Karak would not get to her.

Dwayna, protect me. Dwayna, mother of us all, most high goddess! Protect me! Save your servant ––. A deafening scraping noise, like that of glass upon glass, drowned out Diana’s prayers. She looked up quickly. Suddenly she felt the terrible weight upon her shift, and in an instant she felt every bone in her body snap and crumble, every muscle rip asunder, every blood vessel burst. Pain tore a scream from her gut and engulfed her until she could think no more. Her eyes bulged as the crystal fell onto her upturned face, and where her reflection should be all she could see were screaming faces with no mouths, melting faces with devil-eyes; all she could see were demons.



She slipped out of the rough leather jacket and pants and stared at her naked self in the mirror. A tall woman gazed back out at her, face framed by fine, straight, black hair. Her sea-blue eyes looked full of life, but inside, she felt hollow. Looking at herself, she realised how beautiful she must have seemed to everyone else. The sailors had undressed her with their eyes all during the trip, and even the poor necromancer had seemed so lost with desire that he appeared to be in a permanent dream. No man could resist her, if she tried hard enough. Yet beneath the beauty, beneath the smiles and the warmth, she alone knew what lay there.

All I see are demons.

She turned away from the accusing mirror and headed into the small adjoining bathroom. Closing the door she sank into the water-filled bathtub and let the hot, foamy water close over her body. It was piping hot, yet she felt nothing. Her skin could melt and boil away for all she cared. She wanted to die. Again.

The door to her room opened and closed with a muted thud. Light footsteps crossed over to the bathroom. The door opened noiselessly and a bald-headed sailor looked down at her from the doorway. Steam curtained the room in a sheen of white, but still she could make out the sailor’s tanned face. A curious smile was upon his lips.

“And what might you be up to?” he asked.

“I’m trying to kill myself,” Diana replied, sinking lower in the almost-boiling hot water.

The sailor chuckled and walked towards the tub. “Are you feeling depressed? Guilty perhaps?”

“I hate you, Pister.”

The sailor came and knelt by the tub, crossing his arms on the heated enamel. “Now is that the way to talk to someone who gave you back life?”

She cast her gaze on him, and regarded the dark pools of black that were his eyes. Unlike hers, they were not in the least hollow. There was clear purpose in those eyes. There was life.

“This is not life. This is nothing but hell.” Diana replied as she ducked under the water.

Pister chuckled again. “You did what I asked of you – Normire is now in my grasp. After all these years, the sheep has returned to the fold. Now he will finish the agenda that I have for him.”

“You really get a kick out of this, don’t you?” Diana said as she surfaced, “Using other people for your own dirty little schemes?”

Pister smiled as he flicked water into Diana’s face, “You always were too perceptive for your own good. Makes me feel glad that I saved you after that crystal smashed you to bits.”

She wanted to kill him. Water was right there – she could drown him easily. But a desire inside of her wanted to tear at his flesh, until strips of it peeled away under her unforgiving nails. Then she wanted to set him afire.

“Normire did not deserve to die.” Diana mumbled.

“You and I both know that he didn’t truly die. His spirit is mine, that is all. It is bound to me.”

“You mock Grenth.”

“I don’t mock weakness.” Pister gazed deeply into her eyes, “I am a god, higher than all the others. And for giving you life, I deserve your worship, not your hate.” He reached into the tub and fingered the veins on her chest, “Don’t forget what binds you to me.”

“Your grand scheme is bullshit, Pister.”

“Don’t talk like that, my dear Diana. It should have been completed years ago, but Normire and his servant, Karissa, were stopped by that fool Cyn Eaver, who, ironically, was helped by the Searing. I honestly don’t know how those two men survived a direct impact of a crystal, but they did, and contracted amnesia. Thanks to you, I found Karissa, hiding in Maguma, and again thanks to you, I now have Normire. With his memory back, and he now on his way to Ja’al’s prison in the Arid Sea, and with Cyn out of the goddamned picture, Tyria will become my sole domain. Let the old gods have the Mists. The new order starts with me.” He grinned, “And you, my dear, shall be part of that new order.”

Cyn Eaver? Whoever he is, it seems that he can stop this madness. I have to get to him, before Normire gets to the Arid Sea.

“Go f**k yourself. You made me kill Normire in Lion’s Arch. You made me kill that poor bartender and make a minion out of him. Do you know how much innocent people I had to kill for you?! And still you refuse to keep your promise!” Diana screamed.

“Heh. My promise? To reunite you with your dear Karak? How sweet.” He stood and headed back to the door, “Good luck trying to kill yourself. You may kill the body, but you can’t kill the spirit, which, in case you had forgotten, is mine. You can’t get away from me, dear Diana,” he laughed recklessly, “Unless you become someone else.”

Pister left the cabin.

Diana waited until his footsteps vanished into silence, and then she rose from the tub, dressed in a rugged memser’s outfit, which exposed a few inches of her veined neck and eased out of her cabin and into the small galley-way. It was quiet, and the only movement came from the gently bobbing of the ship on the water.

I have to get off this ship. But first….

Diana turned left and hurried down the galley-way. She raced down the stairs at the end of the passage and ducked into a nearby cabin. A short ranger and a big, burly warrior dressed in ranger’s attire, sat around a round table, playing a quick game of hearts. The ranger was in the process of receiving not only the bird, but three more counts.

“Finally,” the ranger sighed, exasperated, “You’re here.”

“Just saved his ass from another beat-down, Miss Prey,” the warrior chuckled, “What kept you?”

“Pister.” She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. “Are you two clear on what must be done?”

The two men nodded.

“Great. Where’s the oil and that powdered stuff from Cantha?”

“Right here,” the warrior said as he stood. He rested a gauntleted hand on one of two large wooden barrels at the back of the room.

“Well, f**king light it man!” Diana half-screamed.

“Take it easy, Miss Prey,” the warrior replied, “You’re starting to get a little freaked out.”

He’s right. Diana slowed her breathing, and tried to clear her mind. “Okay, sorry. Let’s get this started.”

Five minutes later found Diana and the two men briskly walking onto the deck, down the gangway, and onto the Amnoon docks. The fuse was pretty long, allowing them about fifteen minutes before the explosives would detonate. The fire from the initial explosion would then light the rest of the oil that was poured all over the bottom decks – turning the Fate into the biggest bonfire this side of Charr territory.

I hope you burn with it Pister. It was a happy thought, but Diana knew that it probably would not happen. Pister would survive, and he would come after her.

“The wind’s picking up, Miss Prey,” the ranger said, gazing skywards, “A very bad storm is almost upon us.”

“Shit,” Diana replied. She could feel the sand beginning to whip past her, cutting at her exposed flesh. “We have got to get from here…storm or no storm.”

“There’s the main tent, we should wait there until this passes over, or until at least we can know for sure just how bad it is.” The warrior suggested.
“Fine.”

The trio hurried across the sands and ducked into the chaos inside of the main tent. Hundreds of travellers were crammed in here, with more hurrying inside from the storm. Diana’s eyes were drawn immediately to a table in the centre of the tent. It was one of the few that were largely unoccupied. However, two men were making their way towards it. She did not know why, but they seemed to stand apart from the crowd, like green patches of grass on a field browned by famine.

The bigger of the two was most certainly a warrior, and from the way the smaller one walked and carried himself, he could be a mesmer. Their armour and clothing were fine and a beautiful golden battleaxe hung from the waist of the warrior. Obviously those two men were well-trained. Maybe I can enlist their help too.

“See those two men?” the ranger said, motioning to the warrior and the mesmer, “They were all about the oasis earlier, looking for some guy called Cyn Eaver. They’re an odd bunch.”

Diana’s heart suddenly throbbed. Looking for Cyn Eaver!! Gods, is this is a dream?!

“Let’s get that table in the middle, gentlemen. We can see all of the entrances that way – and it’s filling up pretty fast as well.” She said. And we can find out about his Cyn Eaver. Her body trembled in barely pent up anxiety.

“You two go on,” the warrior said, “I’ll get a seat closer to the corner, so that we can have more eyes in different areas. If anything happens, just signal to me. I will signal to you with a whistle if I see anything.” With that he ducked into the crowd, heading for a darkened corner near to one of the entrances.

Diana and the short ranger continued on towards the central table. Her height helped Diana to see clearly over the heads of the many folk that crammed in around her, and she found it partially amusing that she had to lead the much shorter ranger by the hand.

They passed the front end of the table, where the two men she had watched earlier were now taking their seats. The warrior stood standing, surveying the crowd like a wolf would its dinner-to-be. She passed within an arm’s reach of him, and for a second, their eyes locked.

Recognition, surprise, fear, hope, love and almost every other emotion that Diana had not felt for years suddenly held her rooted in the ground.
He had changed drastically from her last memory of him; half-dead and desperate in Ascalon, trying in vain to save her. Gone were his monk attire, and the warm smile that he always wore. His face was set in stone, his eyes cold; eyes that had seen too much. Fine armour from the Fissure coated his huge muscles like a steel skin, and in some places it was torn, as if by huge teeth or claws.

“Something happened to him in the Searing….” Normire’s words came quietly back to her.

“Karak!” she tried to shout, but it came out only as a quiet gasp. How could I tell him that…what if…why…how did he…

The warrior’s eyes left her and continued surveying the crowd. Karak had not recognised her.

Diana half-stumbled into the seat next to the mesmer that she now knew to be Farrion Neightswift – Karak’s brother.

A tsunami of thoughts crashed into her mind as she sat, numbing her senses to all else. Karak is here, after all this time – I see him again! Oh Gods, have my prayers finally been answered? Or is this all some other sick joke?!

The veins upon her chest tingled ever so slightly. Pister was calling for her. Soon he would realise that she had abandoned the doomed ship. He would come for her, and she would never see Karak again.

No! Not again! Pister can have my damn body, and my soul – I will be with Karak forever nevertheless!

From beneath her jacket, she extracted a small stiletto. Its pale blade radiated a soft yellow glow, and it was frighteningly cold to the touch. She had used it once before, to draw blood and create a carbon copy of the dead bartender, but she had never before used it in the way she planned to now. There was one way to escape Pister’s clutches – the transfer of oneself into someone else. Or in Pister’s own words: “Become someone else.”

She glanced in Karak’s direction and fought back tears, even as she fingered the blade of the stiletto. My Karak, so strong now. You know where Cyn is too. I am Diana no more. I will become Dana, and the madness will stop tonight.

It's been a while everyone, and I thank you all for the several views this past week, not to mention your very kind comments! I think its fantastic that you're doing creative writing at college, Lordhelmos. I would have loved to do that myself, but only managed to do it as an elective and alas those days are over Anyhow, I've been focusing on many others things this past week, and I haven't been able to finish up this chapter until now. Sigh. I'm not in the happiest mood tonight (not because of the story or anything like that), but I hope you guys are Thanks for your concern Pister, and its great that you realised what I did. I went back in time when I began with Normire, to show how and why Diana/Dana attacked Karak etc. etc. This chapter was started before then, but it didn't feel right. I didn't mean to confuse you Tera! So now we get back to a character that I haven't touched on in ages! Enough of my preamble! Chapter 27!

The Rising

Imagine an orb, made entirely from glass, floating in space. It is simply suspended in nothingness, almost lifeless, vulnerable, and fragile. Imagine that orb having been floating for twenty five years. Now imagine it shattering.

That was how Cyn’s last grasp of logic felt as he studied Karissa’s dark face in confusion. It made no sense. Had he been fighting Normire? Was the necromancer actually trying to kill him? It was impossible. They had met in Ascalon City, Cyn coming from years in the forest, looking for adventure, purpose, and Normire looking to establish a legacy. Cyn had joined the necromancer’s guild, and for years they had travelled together. The cape that now hung about his shoulders was that of Jade Empire – Normire’s guild, Phoenix flying from the midst of the storm – the Fallen Guild…no. They could not have been fighting one another.

Then who were you fighting?

Cyn looked up quickly and found Karissa staring at him. She seemed surprised at seeing him there, “I thought you didn’t care, Cyn.”

“I thought so too…but…but…maybe you do know me…. I…I’ve been having these visions, these memories…of strange things.” Cyn replied as Big Charr stepped closer, eyeing Karissa suspiciously.

“What do you want, Charr?” the grey-eyed woman asked as she noticed the Charr.

“I want to know what you’re up to, lass. Judging from what’s on that stalagmite there and the sheer strangeness of this place, I’d have to say that you’re up to naughty business.” Big Charr replied, stooping close to Cyn and looking Karissa straight in the eye.

“It doesn’t matter what I’m up to….” Karissa replied quietly, “I have failed, and I will be punished. It would be better if you would just kill me Charr. Your race is good at that.”

Big Charr flinched, but before he could say anything, Cyn spoke, “Punished? By whom?” As soon as the words left his mouth an image of Normire flashed before his vision. The necromancer looked particularly evil, as though his flesh was on fire, and searing balls of light gazed out from his eye-sockets. Cyn shook his head. Impossible. Normire is miles away – he’s not part of this!

Karissa shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Then if it doesn’t matter, tell me what you’re planning to do, lass!” Big Charr pleaded.

Karissa told him. As she finished, Cyn had the fleeting thought that the Charr would draw his sword and run her through, but he only sat there, staring intently at the young woman.

“I see that there’s an item missing. The Vixen’s Heart you called it? Describe it, lass.” The Charr said.

Karissa let the stiletto fall from her hand. “It’s an eye, encased in glass.”

A sudden shock gripped Cyn. At that instant his mind was taken back three days ago, when he had followed Karissa into one of the many urban ruins of the Desert. It was there that he had stumbled upon a hidden room, and found a strange item concealed within. At the time he did not think it strange that he did not trigger any traps, or that nothing attacked him. It was not some rare weapon, some powerful focus or staff. It was an eye, looking at him beneath a cover of glass. Strange little thing…an eye in the Desert…

At that moment the cavern shook and groaned. Cyn, Karissa and Big Charr were thrown to the floor as the quake escalated. The giant stalagmite suddenly lit up in an eerie, pale yellow, and the strange veins on the cavern walls lit up gradually, as though the pale yellow light was flowing through them like blood. As they were filled, Cyn could not help but let his jaw drop. He had not recognised the pattern of the veins when he had first entered…but now he was beginning to.

Pale wings extended across the full extent of the cavern wall, converging at a long body in the centre. As the veins continued to fill Cyn could make out feathers and claws and eventually, the small bird-like head that formed as the lighted veins met at the jagged stalactites above him. The ranger froze and stared at stark disbelief at the glowing image, for there, soaring upon the cavern walls, was the Red Phoenix.

“What in blazes!” Big Charr cried gazing in horror at the glowing bird.

“You…you must get out!” Karissa said, looking at Cyn. “When he comes and realises that I do not have the Heart – the final element to release him, he will kill everyone in here. He will claim their souls.”

The Heart is in my frigging backpack! How the hell was I supposed to know what it was? Melandru’s grace! If I give it to Karissa, she will summon this Ja’al Demon, but if I don’t he’ll kill us all! The exit! We have to get the hell out of this place!

“Come on!” Cyn shouted, rising to his feet unsteadily. Does the Red Phoenix link Normire to this? How did it get here…? “To the exit!”

The ranger helped Karissa and Big Charr to their feet and as one they made for the entrance cavern. They came within thirty yards of it when Cyn realised that something was wrong. Where the long cavern leading to the outside should be, stood a person, clad in an all black armoured robe. Long wisps of hair hung dead about his face, and deep black eyes, in which burned a demonic fire, held the trio transfixed. In his hand he held a long, black staff, and Cyn did not have to look at it to know that it emanated a sickly green mist. Behind him was nothing but broken cavern wall. The entrance cavern was gone, lost in rubble.

“Normire?!” Cyn gasped in confusion. What the hell? How did he get here? Small threads of his damaged memory and his current situation were weaving together…but still he could not make out the final pattern.

Karissa glanced at Cyn quickly, as though in surprise at hearing that name upon his lips.

“I see you’ve made friends, Karissa.” The man rasped. “Why are you leaving? Have you completed the summoning?”

“How did you get here?” Karissa screamed.

“I finally remembered. Now I know why I’m here, and what I have to do. Ja’al will rise, and Tyria will be consumed. And there’s nothing that will stop me!” Normire snarled back. He grinned fiercely but suddenly his face melted into stark shock when his eyes settled on Cyn.

In an instant his staff was raised, and a vicious hatred burned in his eyes. “You!?”

“Normire!” Cyn shouted, “What the hell are you talking about? What is the meaning of all this?”

The necromancer’s face twitched, between anger and confusion, hatred and regret. It almost seemed as if two completely different wills were fighting for control of his body. Suddenly it seemed as though his darker side was the victor and he growled like a beast. His eyes blazed as though they were entrances to a burning furnace.

“You don’t remember, don’t you? You poor, poor fool!”

“Apparently not. Since I’ve been here I’ve been in the goddamned dark! Now speak, Normire, why are you here? And why the hell would you want to destroy Tyria?!” Cyn shouted. He could feel the veins in his neck bulge, and his muscles tense in barely restrained rage. It seemed that even his body knew of the animosity between the ranger and the necromancer.

Don’t try to remember. Get out.

The now familiar voice that sounded the warning sounded much closer now, and at that instant, Cyn felt a heavy weight in his backpack. It felt almost as though a small child was there, hiding beneath the leather.

Cyn could feel a stark watchfulness settle about him, and he felt as exposed as a naked man in the Shiverpeaks. Something was stripping away the layers of his being like onion flesh; delving deeper and deeper. It suddenly felt as though his very essence was laid bare for all to see.

In an instant, the weight in his backpack increased ten-fold, and Cyn collapsed onto the obsidian floor with a teeth-jarring crack. A flash of light flooded his vision, even as the floor below him began to tremble yet again. The sound of cracking and splitting, like that of shattering ice, filled the ranger’s ears. Cyn was still blinded by the light, but he knew that the floor was breaking up around him.

“Oh my God!” Cyn screamed. What the hell is doing this to me?

Ja’al is come, you fool. Now there is no where to run. The voice replied urgently.

Cyn gasped, for he suddenly realised that the voice was not entirely in his head. This time, it sounded like it came from beneath him – from within his leather backpack.

Strange little thing – an eye in the desert.

Sounds of chaos from all about him filled Cyn’s ears as he lay pinned to the floor. The cavernous room was being violently shaken, and not even the cries and curses of Karissa and Big Charr rose above the groaning of stone.

You found me. I tried to get you away from this, away from the one who stole me. Away from Karissa. You should have left when I told you. But now you must remember, and fight.



Cyn blinked and found himself in the midst of a Charr encampment. The tall figure of the nearby effigy burned as though with a holy fire – pure and all-consuming. Hundreds of Charr busied themselves about the camp, but the ranger’s attention was suddenly riveted on the dark-coloured Charr directly before him.

He was huge, even by the standards of his folk, and his eyes were deep pools of red that had seen many things. His enormous claymore peeked over his shoulder. About a dozen more Charr flanked him.

What? Where am I?

“So,” the dark Charr began, “What would our lords the Titans have us do?”

“There has been a breach, Redeye,” Cyn found himself saying, “One of our own seeks to destroy the very earth that you walk upon, by releasing a savage demon.”

Redeye hawked and spat on the ground to his side in disgust, “Why would he want that?”

“I have no idea, although I have many theories. But that’s not the reason why I’m here.” Cyn replied.

“Then state your commands and we shall obey.”

Cyn frowned, “This traitor sent an agent to Tyria not two months ago. She searches for the entrance to the demon’s prison, but I don’t think she has found it yet. I don’t know where it is either, but I have some strong leads that it may very well be in the lands you know as Ascalon.”

Redeye snarled, “Filthy, rabid human kingdom.”

Cyn’s jaw tensed, but he took a deep breath and continued, “This agent is in Ascalon, even as we speak. I fear that she will find the prison there before I can get to her.” He sighed deeply and glanced up at the heavens. Then he shook his head and cast his gaze back upon Redeye. He could not go back. He was going to make a devastating gamble, and all he could hope for was that it turned out in his favour.

“I…I need you to do something about this. The prison could be anywhere in that vast land. She could be anywhere. I need you to…” Cyn trailed off. He was about to damn millions to their doom. But what could he do? If he did nothing and Ja’al’s prison indeed existed in Ascalon, then when it was opened, the whole population of the world would die. Horribly. I’ve spent many months on this. I’ve made my decision. Ascalon for Tyria, and the Gods – and myself – be damned.

“We have devised an operation, my lord,” Redeye spoke into Cyn’s pause, “My nation, as well as the neighbouring fiefs have banded together in a massive alliance. Too long have the humans defied us behind their accursed Wall! Give us your leave, and we shall invade them, driving them like cattle back across the mountains and the seas. Even the traitor’s agent would have to flee. And when we find this demon’s prison, we shall destroy it for you.”

“Do you know how long that would take? How many long years and how many lives would be lost on both sides? The Ascalonians will not give up their land easily, and you have yet to devise the technology to break down the Wall. And in those long years the agent would have ample time to find the prison.” Cyn replied. And is my way any better? Yes…it would be swift. No suffering. “Consider this. The crystals.”

Redeye’s two red eyes lit up, “Ah, our shamans have almost perfected the summoning for those mighty gifts. It was, in fact, our second plan.”

“Elaborate, if you please.”

“We invade, from the north. Unexpected.” Redeye said in a gruff voice, with large locks of thick hair dangling from his head as he spoke. “We position ourselves and wait until or shamans summon the crystals. They will hammer every square inch of Ascalon, driving your traitor away and sealing the prison if it exists in Ascalon as you say it does.”

Cyn considered this and his frown deepened. Is there no way to avoid death? Is there another way? What if the prison really is not in Ascalon? No. No, I can’t doubt myself now. I can’t take such risks.

“Do what you must. Root her out.” Cyn paused, even as the countenances of the Charr around him brightened, “But go no farther than Ascalon. Do not cross the Shiverpeaks. You will leave Kryta and Orr alone. After one year you will withdraw from Ascalon, or face my wrath.”

Redeye smiled, even though it looked more like a vicious snarl, “Use the burning crystals?”

“Do it, Charr. But no more. You will wait for further instruction. Do not abuse the power that we have given you.”


Cyn jumped and his vision cleared in an instant. All around him he could see the cavern in throes of spasm, with the Red Phoenix blazing on the roof. He immediately felt sick in his stomach. Something deep inside him had been unlocked, and rivers of memory flooded his damaged mind, bridging gaps that he never even knew existed. Ancient and deep knowledge pumped into his brain, and as he lay, still pinned to the floor, he remembered everything.

“Come, Cyn!” Karissa screamed as she suddenly appeared above Cyn’s line of sight, “Big Charr is attacking Normire! We have to leave this place somehow!” She fumbled with Cyn’s bag straps until they came off, freeing the ranger.

Cyn staggered to his feet and gazed about him as though seeing the cavern for the very first time. Here he was, standing in Ja’al’s prison, deep within the Arid Sea of the Crystal Desert, thousands of miles away from Ascalon. Thousands of miles from the ash, death and ruins of Ascalon.

His vision swirled and his stomach began to knot. He wanted to vomit.

Some things are better left forgotten. Spoke the voice.

Cyn did not realise that Karissa was tugging him violently and shouting at him. Nothing registered. It seemed that only he existed, and the thing that was in his bag. Moving with a sub-conscious will, Cyn bent and threw open the bag.

Karissa stopped tugging on his arm when her eyes rested on the contents of the open bag, for there, staring out at both of them, was a glaring eye, covered in glass.

It is the end, Cyn. Now fulfil your purpose, you fool.

The ranger now realised that the strange voice came from the eye. It was a familiar voice, for he had heard it for many long years in that place where death is non-existent, where those great folk who perished on Tyria came to spend the rest of eternity.

He remembered clearly now. He had been able to take it from its secret vault in the northern desert so easily for it belonged to him. It was his key to Ja’al’s prison, for in ages past, it was he who had put him there. Images of that dark, desperate battle flashed past his vision. Of him with bow in hand, with Heather at his side, leading a company of the finest warriors the Mists had to offer. He remembered ripping Ja’al’s very eye from its socket, even as the demon fell from the Mists and was sealed somewhere on Tyria.

“Gods…the Vixen’s Heart…Cyn….” The ranger heard Karissa say.

Ja’al’s prison had not been in Ascalon after all. After all the ages, it was here, miles away from any human habitation. All those people…died for nothing. It was my doing. They died because of me. All of them, Ascalon, Orr…. Because I did not want to take risks! Gods, what have I done? I don’t deserve to exist!

Cyn collapsed onto his knees. If only I had waited, none of them would have perished so. I gave them to the Charr! The Searing! They used the crystals on Ascalon! Tears filled his eyes and he half-choked on the bile that slithered up his throat. They followed my orders. Now millions are dead. Needlessly, and Ja’al is still here.

In the back of his mind, Cyn remembered the two men that he had befriended from Normire’s guild. Karak and Farrion Neightswift, their names were. Brothers, out to get revenge on the folk that had destroyed and raped their country. Out to avenge the death of their entire family. The Neightswift family would still be alive if not for him.

Cyn grabbed his head and sobbed. I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve to live for what I’ve done!

With that he grabbed hold of the Eye, and wrenched it free from the floor.
He glanced back at Karissa – the only woman he had ever truly loved and Normire’s agent. “I love you,” Cyn said, “Tell them I’m sorry.”

With that he darted off towards the central stalagmite, with the final element in his hand.

lol, dont worry bout confusing me :Pnow that i know about the going back in time it makesa lot more sense ja'al... wonder wats gunna happen next
nice cliff hanger

Hey Cyn whats up... I know i havent talked to you guys in awhile but you didn't have to forget about me in the story lol

Hey again everyone! I do apologize for the lateness and shortness of this next chap, but it was all I could in my free time As for you Heavens, none of us have forgotten ya! It's just that your character as well as two others died a while back, or so it would seem eh? Anyways it's good to see that the real you is still alive and kicking . Thanks for the views once again everyone and I am very happy that you're liking this story Tera! Here Chapter 28, and again I apologize if it is disappointing in any way.

Hero’s Ascension

Karak stumbled forward as yet another quake shook the ground. Showers of stone and gravel rained from the dark heights on both sides and the path ahead seemed suddenly unwelcoming. It also seemed to run on and on forever in the eldritch dark.

“Holy shit, this place is crashing down on us!” he hollered at the illuminated forms of Habib and Heather to his right.

“Then we must hurry!” Habib shouted back. The huge warrior had donned his thick, black helmet, which absorbed the light from Heather’s curling mist like a sponge. Nothing potentially fatal had fallen upon the trio yet, but at this rate, Karak feared that a massive boulder would come crashing towards them anytime soon.

They kept close together, Karak and Habib, with Heather more or less squeezing in between them. She wore no armour, and thus had to hope that the two large warriors on her flanks would shield her from any impacts. So far I’m doing a pretty good job. I’m getting hit by more rocks than the moon.
Karak cursed as yet another fist sized rock pummelled into his steel-plated shoulder.

“Shit, how are we ––.” A sudden, deafening roar ripped through the passage. For a moment, Karak’s head swirled and reeled from the sonic impact.

“Gods, what was that?” Heather asked as their hearing returned.

“An explosion.” Habib replied, “Come, quickly!”

With that the man was off, leaving Karak and Heather to race after him. With each step the passage heaved and groaned, as though it were some great stone beast now awakening from an age-long slumber. Adrenaline burned in his blood like a fire, and that now familiar but still strange energy whipped through his muscles. Yet again, Karak could feel Dana’s presence, like a physical weight on his mind.

“You never told me why you’re here,” he whispered. The end was near. He could feel it. Why shouldn’t I find out as much as I can before I go? He thought. Death had followed at his heels since that horrible day in Ascalon, when burning crystals shattered his home, and killed almost everyone he had loved. A sudden set of tears welled up in his eyes as the final images of Diana appeared before his vision. She was so hurt…damn the Gods…she thought that I could have saved her…. Now I have nothing left. Farrion left me with nothing! Karak wanted to suddenly give up the final race and collapse onto the broken ground. For what was the point of trying to save the world if the world had nothing left for him?

There’s no giving up now, my dear. Dana spoke to his mind’s ear; I need you to see this through.

“F**k it all! How…why did you get into my head? Why didn’t you go for Farrion?! You could have helped him like you did me, you could have saved him! You could….”

Farrion never tried to save me.

“What?!” Karak gasped. For some reason, a sudden chill swept through his body.

The world’s your oyster, my love. You will help me save it.

Shock hammered into Karak like the blow from a yak’s hooves. His heart skipped, and his knees suddenly threatened to freeze. The world’s your oyster… There were only two people he had ever heard that phrase from. One had died in an Elonian ruin miles below the Crystal Desert, and the other had perished in Ascalon under a massive crystal.

But Dana had been with him even before Farrion fell. That left only…Diana. No. No. She died…. Karak suddenly remembered the mesmer from the main Tent at Amnoon. Dana. Only now did he realise how deeply she had gazed at him, how full of desire, regret and some immense sadness clouded her bright, sea-blue eyes. He realised how easy it was to talk to her, as though she were some long lost best-friend. He had felt so very comfortable around her, if only for that short time.

“No. Gods…no.” Karak stammered in the semi-dark. He did not like the road his thoughts were heading down.

Diana. Dana. Even the names bore an uncanny similarity. Why had he not noticed that before? No. How did she survive the crystal? No. Why had she never contacted him for so long? No! Why had she cut open his neck to feed her own blood into him?

Because I love you, Karak. I don’t want us to be apart again. Dana’s voice sounded uncharacteristically mellow…and sincere. In that moment, Karak knew that this woman and Diana of Egilos, his lover, were one and the same.

Questions that had no answers exploded inside his head.

“Diana…oh my God.”

“Karak!” Heather shouted suddenly.

The warrior looked up at her, and realised that she was clutching his arm and staring intently into his eyes. Habib was just a few feet away, examining what looked to be a massive amount of rubble stacked against the wall ahead. They had reached the termination of the passage.

Heather leaned close to him, “I feel a strange presence. There’s someone else here, Karak. Are you alright?”

“Someone else?” Karak’s mind was reeling. A bout of shivers grasped his mighty body, “Where, for the love of me?”

“Here.” She squeezed his arm.

“Oh God. Oh God.” Karak gasped.

Don’t tell her…it could be our little secret, my love.

Heather continued to stare into his eyes, as though peeling away all the layers of armour and flesh that surrounded his most inner places. Karak no longer guessed. He knew that she was looking into him.

“Who is she, Karak? What does she want?” Heather asked again.

Before he had time to answer, Habib broke into their midst. “There was an explosion here. Someone sealed the cavern. We have to get through!”

Heather kept staring at Karak. She seemed oblivious to Habib and everything else. There was only her, Karak…and Dana.

“I’m alright. Get us out of here.” Karak said after what felt like ages. Only then did Heather release his arm and break off her gaze.

“Stand as far back as you can, boys.” She said, casting Karak another concerned glance before focusing on the sealed exit. She extended her hands towards it, palms forwards.

Karak and Habib ran-stumbled as far away as they could, without losing sight of Heather. In the moments that followed, it seemed as though the temperature rose dramatically. Heat channelled through the rocks all around them, weaving its way towards Heather.

Heat rose from the ground on which she stood like shimmering waves. It ran through her arms, and small balls of fire formed on her outstretched palms. With a flash, a beam of liquid fire launched from them, striking the rocks with a blast of displaced debris. The beam of fire sliced through the thick rocks as though they were ice; the melting granite forming falls of lava.

Karak closed his eyes. Finally he knew the real identity of the person who shared his very personal space. Mixed emotions gripped him. He had been devastated when Diana had seemingly died, but to find out that she actually survived…he could not put his feelings to words. What happened at Amnoon? I saw her die there with my own eyes!

Only the body dies, Karak. I’m free now. Free once again.

“How…how did you…the crystal…” Karak whispered. The crumbling passage drowned out his words.

A ritualist bound me. I was his servant. I had to escape…I had to be with you…I’m sorry I hurt you, but I needed you.

“Gods! I…I can’t believe this! Why didn’t you just say so at Amnoon? Why put me through all this?! Why? Why!”

It was my only way. The ritualist would have found me and hurt you if I had done otherwise.

At that instant, Heather shouted out. “I’m through!”

“Come on, Egilos!” Habib shouted at Karak. “Now we meet our ends, and the fate of the world!”

With that he jumped forward, drew his sword, and raced towards the red-glowing hole that Heather had made from elemental fire.

So. By some strange twist, Karak had not lost everything. The person he thought to be dead for so long was still alive, though her existence was a mystery. Was she a spirit? Was she joined to him? Karak could not find the answer.

He drew the pale blade that Habib had given him, and he stared at the strange luminescent glyphs that lined its edges. He could not know what they said, or what their purpose was. He brought Farrion’s ring to his lips and kissed it.

“This is for you bro. And everyone else I lost.” His mind cleared of all things as power again rushed into him, and he pushed himself to a last mad dash for the hole in the rocks.

kick ass, short 'n' sweet, but i know the rest will be as good as everything else you've wrote

cant w8 for the next chapter, as usual keep up the good work

Greetings folks, I hope you all are feeling pretty good at this point, for very soon that may not be the case Thanks to everyone for your continued views and comments though! I finally managed to do up a chapter this week and I sure hope everyone enjoys it. Well I've been at this story for a while now and I really enjoyed sharing with everyone on these forums, but I've reached that point where I think I should bring everything to a close. Or I have I really? Maybe I'm just kidding around, but you're gonna have to make your own opinion at the end of Chapter 29!

To Split Crystal

Dark lifted from his eyes so quickly that for a moment, it felt as though a physical object that had covered his vision for miles was only now being taken away. The cavern that the hole opened into was immense – to say the least – and its vastness seemed to weigh down on him like a very real presence. As unbelievable as it was, clouds sailed like wispy ghosts far above, with four giant rocks shaped in the fashion of teeth curving downwards. The floor of the cavern looked at first to be polished obsidian, and Karak could swear that it gave off a light of its own. Rank upon rank of tall, jewelled stone pillars surrounded a huge central stalagmite in circular fashion, and the light that they reflected was dazzling. Habib and Heather stood transfixed, gazing in wonder and horror at the cavern.

On another day Karak would have thought the place beautiful as he stood on the slanting entrance ramp, which curved downwards onto the obsidian floor. Incredibly strange, but nonetheless beautiful.

But on this day, the cavern was the epicentre of chaos. The rounded walls shook and groaned, splitting and raining debris on everything below them. The obsidian floor was a death-trap of rising cliffs and falling pits, as the earth shuddered and coughed. The clouds were a dark grey, and the image of a giant phoenix glowed against the entire breadth of the cavern.

Despite all this, Karak’s attention was fixed on who was in the cavern. Normire Darkwind, of all the people in Tyria, was fighting for his life just below the ramp, facing off against what was, unbelievably, a Charr Blade-Warrior. Just as he was about to wonder how in hell a man he had left in the Shiverpeaks, and a Charr could be battling it out in some ruin behind the Gods’ back, his eyes were drawn to a quickly moving figure off towards the centre of the cavern.

Although he could not see the man’s face, it did not take him long to realise who it was. The earth-coloured leather armour with tinges of blue, the green Ithas bow strapped to his back and the short pony tail dangling from his hair. He moved so quickly that even if all of hell was chasing him, they would never have caught him. His footfalls were as swift as a phantom, and as sure as a panther.

Cyn Eaver. Dana whispered. For some reason, she sounded vastly relieved.

“Yes. Cyn f**king Eaver.” Karak cursed under his breath. Anger burned in him with the potency of a viper’s bite. “If he wasn’t here, if he wasn’t bloody-well involved in this, Farrion would still be alive, and we would never have come into this god-forsaken waste of a desert!”

There’s never a bad happening. She paused abruptly. Oh no. Normire!

Karak thought that Dana sounded dreadfully concerned. “Yeah, it’s Normire. He was my guild leader for a time. But what in heck is he doing here?”

You know Normire?! Dana cursed.

“Yeah. Back then we really close. He, Farrion and I in the Jade Empire. Eventually even Cyn joined up. We all came together to avenge those we lost to the damn Searing.”

Cyn! All of you were in the same damn guild? She paused in what Karak assumed to be shock, Oh gods, he was right. They contracted amnesia…and became the best of friends.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

That ranger and that necromancer go back farther than you could guess, my love.

Habib’s sharp voice snapped Karak to matters close at hand. “There’s our man. The other Wraith.” He pointed towards Normire and the Charr.

“Who? The human?” Heather coughed.

Habib smiled, “Our Wraith is somewhat…inhuman.”

Karak cocked an eyebrow as he turned to look at Habib. Returning his gaze on the Charr and Normire, he suddenly took notice of the jet-black cape that was clasped about the Charr’s neck, and he realised that the sword he wielded was more akin to a rapier, with a somewhat curving blade. The other Wraith was a Charr.

“How in hell…?” Karak began.

“Some other time, Egilos,” Habib interjected. Steel sung against leather as he drew his long blade, and charged down the ramp towards Normire and the Charr like a maddened yak.

Karak would have run after him, but a madness took him and he found himself heading in the opposite direction, jumping from the ramp on a beeline towards Cyn. The questioning shouts of Heather were lost to his ears.
His armoured boots glinted off of the obsidian floor as though they were fitted with springs. He could feel the power surging through his veins, with only a single desire; to get to Cyn Eaver. Obelisks speeded past on either side of Karak, blurring together until they seemed to be two continuous walls of black. The ground was splitting as he passed, but he kept going, jumping from one falling section of stone to the next without so much as batting an eyelash. His feet seemed to move with a mind of their own.

Karak was gaining on him, with such speed that he himself was shocked. But the shocked fluttered away as Karak’s massive body barrelled into Cyn, sending both of them crashing to the ground in cat-spraddled heaps a few feet from the central stalagmite. His vision blurred upon impact, and for a moment Karak had no idea of direction, location or time. He blinked, and foot landed on his throat.

The warrior opened his eyes wide and stared up at Cyn. The ranger’s face was grim and as hard as the floor he was lying upon. One of his hands was bandaged, and in the other he clutched something tightly. Cyn was breathing rapidly.

“Karak. How did you come to be here?” the ranger asked. He sounded like a man who had been through so much that he failed to be surprised at anything anymore.

“I could ask you the same bloody question Cyn!” Karak shouted. Because of you Farrion is dead! “We came after you!”

“For what?” Cyn stared at Karak as though he were a complete stranger.

“For what? For what!? You bastard!” Karak had gone past boiling point. He had come over several long miles, losing friends and his own brother, all in an attempt to reach Cyn, and now that he was finally here, the ranger had the gall to ask him for what?

Karak grabbed hold of Cyn’s foot, wrenching it from off of his neck and sending the ranger spiralling back down to the floor. Cyn steadied himself like a cat and glared back at Karak through eyes that were as piercing as a steel blade. Beams of liquid fire, like that from Heather’s outstretched arms, seemed to shoot from those eyes like lances, impaling Karak on the stone floor.

In that instant, Karak realised that the Cyn standing before him was not the Cyn he had known for those long years following the Searing. A strange power seemed to emanate from him…something so intangible that Karak could not even begin to guess what it was. What was certain was that this power burnt coldly at Karak’s being like a torch. Cyn’s body appeared to be a container, fighting against something; keeping something imprisoned within the depths of his soul.

“The…wuh…world…Ja’al…” Karak stammered. What was this man doing to him? Another sensation fought with the anger that boiled in his veins. Fear. A pure and all-consuming fear that caused his breath to catch in his lungs and make his heart race so fast that it seemed that he was going into cardiac arrest. It worked at his stomach like salts. He wanted to puke.

“I’m sorry, Karak, old friend.” Cyn’s voice fell almost to a whisper and was almost lost to the deep rumblings of the cavern. He suddenly sounded himself again, and a look of utter sadness overcame him, “He’s coming. That accursed demon. When he realises that the summoning hasn’t been completed, he will kill everything in this place. That includes you, Karak. If he’s released, he will be set free to kill everything on Tyria.” Cyn’s gaze fell from Karak and the warrior found himself breathing again. “I’m not going to gamble with lives again. Ja’al will die tonight.”

With that, a solid resolve clasped around him and he turned his back to Karak and approached the stalagmite. He was oblivious to the debris that rained from above and the floor that split and shook all around him. Suddenly he flicked out the thing that he had clutched in his hand and Karak’s eyes widened in horror.

The Vixen’s Heart stared back at him. All this way for nothing. The eye seemed to say; Now the demon’s going to be released by the same man you thought would stop it.

The other elements seemed to glow with a radiance of their own as Cyn approached, as if to acknowledge their final brother.

“No. F**k no.” Karak whispered. Dana was silent.

Farrion should not have died in vain. Karak had no idea what Cyn intended to do, but one thing was clear in his mind. Do not let him use the Heart. With a grunt and a curse, Karak jumped to his feet, grabbing up his fallen sword.

He took four great strides towards Cyn, each step sending a shock through his body. In a moment Karak was upon him reaching out and taking hold of his arm. With the swiftness of an eagle, Cyn spun around, eyes blazing, and sent a fist driving into Karak’s chest. Tempered steel armour gave way like glass beneath that fist, sending Karak staggering backwards.

“Leave me be, human!” he bellowed in a voice that was terrible to hear.

A fiery, demonic resolve had taken hold of Cyn. There would be no stopping him short of killing him. In all of his days in the guild, Karak had never seen the ranger like this.

“Get…Cyn! Stop….End….sorry…. Go ––!” Farrion’s last words echoed in Karak’s mind.

Leave him be, my dear. Something is about to happen.

“No!” Karak screamed. “I will not fail again!”

All senses fled from his mind. His sword felt like a sharpened extension of his forearm and it seemed to thirst for blood. With a massive surge of strength, Karak rushed forwards once again, blade first.

~ * ~

Cyn’s hand was inches away from the Heart’s dock when Karak’s sword ripped through his armour and flesh like a tooth through tender meat. He could feel the cold steel severing blood vessels, slicing through his ribs, and puncturing his lung. The bloody blade of the sword thrust out from his chest and the hilt slammed into his back with the force of battering ram.

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star….
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;

Karak would not have understood if he had told him. There had been no time. There had been only one chance to stop Ja’al, and that was to face him, here and now, in this cavern. Cyn had imprisoned the demon once before and now he felt that he could destroy him once and for all. But Cyn had to release him in order to get at him.

Brightening the half-veiled face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,

His vision suddenly darkened as his life blood spilled out before him. Karak was not that different a man from what Cyn used to be. The warrior would not have left anything like this to chance. If Karak and a few others had to die to keep the world safe, then so be it. If he had to damn himself and a few others instead of risking another way, then so be it. And let the gods be damned.

Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shred,

Momentum carried Cyn into the stone face of the stalagmite with a force that knocked the last of his breath far away. His hand crashed against the small hole that was the Heart’s place. Strength faded from his fingers and the oval ball rolled into the nook. An immense sound of gears shifting and of something enormous being lifted drowned out all other sound.

Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head.

All light vanished from the world and the cavern was plunged into an eternal darkness.

“I come!”

ok... next chapter!!
u have a gr8 skill at writing, this is amazing!
another perfectly used cliff hanger .... whats gunna happen xD

It's been one helluva of week and finally at the end of it I decide to get to some writing. I ease over to the GWG front page and I check the latest news and realise that some fine fics were spotlighted...and that Crystal was one of them! Whoa, thanks a mil Inde, Tera, all those cool folks whose characters I'm using and all you guys and gals who continue to follow this fic! I really had intended to end this story at Chap 29, but it just didn't feel right...so here's Chapter 30 and hope you enjoy!

As it All Flies Away

The rapier tore at the flesh of his arms with the sudden speed of lightning bolts. He was losing strength quickly; there was no time to cast any spells. Parrying another enormous blow from his foe, he staggered back and stumbled over a jagged piece of floor that stuck out from the ground like the stump of a tree.

His head crashed against the shattered ground behind and his vision blackened for what seemed like forever. When it cleared he was still on his back, with the ground falling in all around him. Gingerly he reached to the back of his head and his hand came away dripping with blood.

I must get up. I must see that Ja’al is finally freed. I must see Tyria destroyed.

Groping at the ground, seeking purchase, the necromancer tried to get back to his feet. The sharp fragments of obsidian ripped his fingers like razors and the blood made his hands slip on everything they touched. His entire body burned as though his blood was fire, coursing through his veins, filling his mind until there was no other feeling.

Lacerations crisscrossed his entire body; caused from the rapier that that big, hairy beast drove at him with relentless determination. Each wound burned as though they had been drowned in alcohol.

I must get up. I must complete this. Tyria must fall.

“Normire.” Called a voice. It sounded surreal, as though he was being addressed from some lady in his dreams. “Why are you doing this?”

Normire spat blood and pus and rolled onto his side. Thick, black shafts of obsidian rose and fell all around him; he was floating on a solid sea of black. He wanted to close his bloodied eyes. He wanted to rip off his ears – he could not bear the harsh breathing of the Charr anymore. He could not bear the burning beneath his skin any longer.

In a rage Normire scratched at his very flesh, until it peeled away beneath his nails like bloodied wood shavings. Still the fire burnt at every sinew and every cell of his being. Like an infestation of maggots, he could feel the heat crawling up his body, working its way to his mind. He screamed mutely.

I must get up. I must get up. I must free the demon.

The image of the fiery phoenix far above glared down at him. It was his sigil, but now it looked foreign and twisted.

I must get up. I must get up. I must….

He was so close. How did Cyn manage to get here? He had won over Karissa and he even had a Charr fighting for him. How was it that he always seemed to be the victor? Now Normire was going to die. Forever. Success brought a place in the new order, failure only eternal captivity in utter darkness.

I must get up. I must get….

His head throbbed against his skull, damp with his blood. He could feel the maggots working their way through the large wound at the back of his head, feasting on the delicacies of his cranium. But the body was not supposed to matter. Only the spirit. And his spirit was bound….

I must….

“Normire.” She called again. Her voice sounded close now. Normire thought that he recognised it; mesmerizing, with a beautifully melodic tone to it. Amidst the chaos that engulfed his mind, the voice was the only thing that he could focus on. It was the only thing that sounded and felt right.

“Oh Gods,” Normire coughed, writhing on the floor. “Who…who are you?”

“Normire, why are you doing this?”

“I…I…must. The accursed Tyria must fall.”

“Do you really hate this world so much?”

“I….” Normire’s mind was reeling. Opposing thoughts wrestled for dominance in his mind. Did he really despise Tyria? Did he really hate Cyn, even now? They had saved each other’s lives countless times, and had dispatched countless enemies, ignorant of their violent past. For those years both of them had forgotten their hatreds and no one could stand against their combined strength. Now all that had shattered because they both had remembered.

“I don’t know.” Normire said finally, uncertainly. Scenes of landscape flashed before his mind’s eye – the high, white peaks of the Shiverpeaks, the miles of beach and lush grasslands in Kryta, the tangled jungle of the Magumma, the burning sands of the Crystal Desert and even the grim, volcanic environs of the Fire Islands. By themselves they seemed out of place, but taken as a whole, they were just beautiful. “I…love…Tyria.”

In that moment, the thoughts and the chaos in his mind suddenly paused. The groans and rumblings of the cavern faded into silence and everything around him went still.

Normire blinked and realised that where once he could see the inner sky of the cavern, now laid a large expanse of pure black. He was on his feet, yet his hair and clothes dangled behind him, as though he were standing on a wall like a fly. He glanced down and suddenly realised that he was no longer lying on the obsidian floor. Instead, a thin stretch of stone laid beneath his feet, running on forever to the right and left.

Turning, he saw a Byzantine mass of twisting chains, all glowing a pale-yellow. They coiled towards him, and to Normire’s horror, he realised that each one was fused to the flesh all over his body. In the distance far behind the chains he could make out the ghastly outline of an outstretched palm, from which all the chains grew. Above that glared a massive eye, with irises of fire and pupils of blood.

Everything was silent.

Then, from the direction of the chains came a voice, stark and chilling: “You are bound to me now, boy. You must finish your f**king task.”

A sudden desire to obey consumed Normire. There was no argument to be had – he must obey. Tyria must be destroyed. He had to free Ja’al.

The chains tugged at his body ever so slightly. He almost fell off his perch, but fear held him rooted. Fear, and another feeling that Normire had not experienced for what felt like years and years.

“I am of the Mists,” he struggled to say. He wanted to continue, needed to continue, but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth.

The cold voice cackled, “So you are, so you are. But you are mine all the same, boy; your spirit is bound to me. You are my little necrotic bitch and you will do as I say.”

The chains tugged on Normire again and this time he had to plant his feet harder in the ground to keep from falling off. A strange bravery worked its way into his body like a dose of brandy – warming every muscle and organ.

“….But what if we lived once, thinking and doing evil, but then forgot it all? Do we now have an opportunity to change? And if so, in what way? Are we still accountable for what we did before? Are our final destinies still governed by those past thoughts and actions?” Pister’s words came back to Normire softly, but they came from different lips.

“Diana,” he said. Despite everything, her voice was the one thing Normire desired to hear. At this point, he did not care about what she was, who she worked for, or who she had killed for Pister. All he wanted was her right here with him, illuminating this dark place.

“You don’t have to damn yourself forever…you choose your own destiny. No one else. Choose, Norm – the end is here.” She said, her voice fading into silence.

“No…come back!” Normire gasped, but Diana was gone. He was alone with Pister and his chains.

“Defy me, my little perra, and you will forever burn in the fiery hell of Tyria as it is utterly laid waste!” The voice shouted.

Normire’s stomach churned once again, and he nearly vomited into the void at the edge of his perch. His spirit was fighting to obey. Hell, he wanted to obey. If there was one thing he had ever wanted was to see Tyria and the humans perish; to see himself as the ruler of this plane. But he was not the same man who fought Cyn in the forest just as a crystal exploded over them. Back then, he could not fathom why Cyn had loved this world so much, why he would put his very existence on the line…but now he could. People like Diana were worth keeping Tyria for.

Normire lifted his hand and raised his middle finger at the colossal eye, “Then I will f**king-well see you in hell.” He back-peddled against the tug of the chains and fell off of his perch, into the dark void on the opposite side.

He thought that the chains would have kept him suspended in mid-air, but as he fell, they ripped away from his body, taking with them sizeable chunks of skin and muscle. But he did not care. He was Normire Darkwind, cunning guild-leader, rich, changed, and he was never and would never be any person’s bitch.

Sound returned to his ears with the deafening racket of something heavy being lifted and a crash as though something gigantic had just broken through solid stone. Normire opened his eyes.

All around him was pitch black. He blinked, thinking that his eyes were still closed, but the darkness remained all the same. The only light came from the soft glows of the jewel encrusted obelisks that were still standing. Beneath him the ground no longer moved. Above him the giant phoenix no longer shone.

Normire ambled to his feet, grabbing the pieces of floor that jutted out of the ground like stumps for support. His body felt light somehow, as though a great weight had been lifted from it. Each breath tasted sweet in his nostrils, and his heart beat with the vibrant confidence of a healthy athlete. Even though blood matted his scalp and trickled down his limbs, and parts of his arms were torn by his nails, Normire felt suddenly alive.

What’s going on here…? Where’s the light? He thought, searching the darkness for any signs of the big Charr or Cyn. Dead silence filled the cavern.

He swept his gaze to the large, central stalagmite and suddenly stiffened. Intricate designs reminiscent of elaborate circles and ovals covered the stalagmite entirely, and they glowed a pale blue. A thin beam of blue light spouted from the top of the stalagmite and ended in the middle of the set of teeth-like stalactites far above. Parts of the light moved and slithered, as though it were more gas than light.

Past the stalagmite, at the very back of the cavern was what looked like an enormous doorway. It was bordered with the same pale blue decorations as the stalagmite, and the darkness that filled it was deeper than anything Normire had ever seen. And that was saying a lot for a necromancer.

The reek of undeath gushed from that doorway like blood from a torn artery, sweeping past Normire in throbbing waves. With every passing second, it grew stronger and more pronounced. Something very dark was about to come out of that doorway. Something very familiar.

Ja’al.

Fear suddenly invaded all the fortresses of bravery within Normire and he almost sank back to the ground like a country mouse, looking for some hole to delve into.

Oh gods! Ja’al is freed! Trickles of cold sweat slithered into his eyes and over his lips, Cyn…! Cyn has…failed? He actually could not stop Karissa from releasing the demon? How? How?!

Irony. The perverse arrival of some thing or event that is in itself desirable. Normire always wanted to free Ja’al, and Pister had seen to it that he was there to do it. Now, Normire had given Pister the finger and wanted to stop Ja’al’s release. Both he and Cyn – hated enemies – wanted to stop the demon from entering Tyria. But now there the door lay, open to Ja’al’s ancient prison. Either way, Pister got his wish.

A massive, gauntleted hand clamped around Normire’s throat and suddenly he felt the ground vanish from below him as he was raised into the air. He was turned around like a doll and came face to face with steel-clad warrior. A helmet covered all but the central features of his sharp face, but his eyes burned into Normire like hot coals.

Next to him, on either side stood the big Charr and a young woman who Normire did not immediately recognise. Around all of them swirled a strange, glowing mist, which illuminated them dimly.

“You.” The woman said icily.

“Heather,” Normire gasped. He had not seen her since before he had left the Mists, and that last meeting was far from unfriendly. He had trusted her with his grand plans of taking Tyria for himself, and she had told Cyn every word without so much as regret. Of course that led directly to Cyn finding him in that clearing in Ascalon.

He should probably hate her right now, but all Normire felt was a strange uneasiness. He was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe with the warrior’s hand around his throat-pipe.

“Who is this man?” the warrior asked in a voice that was almost as filled with malice as his stare.

“His name is Normire. He wanted to release Ja’al – it’s been his modus operandi ever since I’ve known him. He and Cyn are enemies.”

We were enemies.

“But how could he open Ja’al’s prison if he’s over here and the stalagmite’s over there?” the big Charr asked.

Heather shook her head and stared at Normire with nothing but hatred.

“Listen, please,” Normire began, “Someone else wants to release Ja’al. I don’t know much about him, but he’s a ritualist/mesmer and his name is Pister.” He cast his gaze at Heather. “When I came to Tyria to make sure that Karissa managed to release Ja’al, I lost my memory when the Searing struck. This Pister fellow…he made me remember and…he…made…me come to this place. But I no longer want to release Ja’al, dammit. I’ve bled and killed to keep that Lich from taking Tyria, and I’m not going to see my labours wasted.”

“He’s lying.” Heather said bluntly. “But he could not have been in two places at once. That damn Karissa must have used the Vixen’s Heart to free Ja’al when we were occupied.” She sighed. “Don’t worry; we’ve been in a situation like this before – Cyn and me – he will know what to do.”

“Where is Cyn, by the way?” the Charr asked.

At that moment, a large figure strode into their circle of light. He was holding a young, grey eyed woman by the arm and held a body over his shoulder. Normire’s jaw dropped.

“Karak!”

The warrior looked aged and exhausted. A haunted look filled his eyes. Normire realised that his armour looked as though it had been through all the levels of hell. Karak seemed to have gone through a lot since he last saw the warrior in Droknar’s. Where is Farrion? If Karak is here, he can’t be too far away.

“I found her by the stalagmite.” Karak began, chucking the woman towards the Charr. He spoke mechanically; with no emotion. “And here’s the star of it all.”

He took the body and rested it face up on the ground. Stark horror gripped everyone present save Karak. There lay Cyn, and he was dead.

brilliant yet agin, grats on hitting the front page! lol
keep up the gr8 work

Greetings again everyone! Thanks very much Tera and all you guys for your continued readership! Well I haven't had much time to do any writing this past week, but I managed to scrape together another chapter that I hope you will enjoy. Onto Chapter 31!

Last Stand

The darkness suddenly seemed that much deeper and heavier. Pain continued to assault his head, but it only brought the merest of cringes from him. The utter silence that now engulfed him seemed to dampen every sense. The huge warrior released his grasp and Normire fell unduly back onto the shattered floor.

“Oh, gods!” Heather gasped, stooping and hovering over Cyn’s lifeless body.

The ranger’s eyes were closed fast, his mouth fixed in a peaceful expression. His hands lay flat at his sides, and at a glance he seemed only to be in a deep sleep. Then Normire noticed the bloody wound on the left of his chest.

Though in dim light, Normire guessed that it was a sword wound, and that the sword had gone straight through the ranger’s heart. He must have died immediately. The sense of death had not yet ripened.

The necromancer looked up from Cyn’s still form and gazed around at the grim faces of the other folk. Only Karak’s was different. This warrior seemed apathetic to the whole situation, but his facial muscles were taut, and Normire could sense a feeling of overwhelming anxiety emanating from him.

Enough for two people.

Karissa stumbled over to Cyn and grabbed his body in her arms. She stared viciously at Heather and then gazed up at Karak with a poisonous stare, “You monster! What did you do to him?” Her eyes filled with tears as she began to sob.

Unknowingly, Karissa had asked the one question that was on everyone’s minds. Their collective eyes turned towards the older Neightswift brother, and were met with a stare of ice.

“I did what I had to. He…he opened the f**king gate.” He said, speaking slowly, deliberately. He seemed to be trying hard to stay in control of himself.

Even so, everyone reeled from the impact of what he just said.

“He what?” Heather cursed. She seemed suddenly less confident, like an oven that has just been turned off she had lost her fire. Heat still remained, but even that would slip away into the darkness. “What the hell are we going to do?!” she turned to the warrior that had almost choked Normire to death, “Habib, what the hell are we going to do?!”

Habib spoke up, his voice quiet and cool even here, “We can’t afford to panic. Not now. I’ve lost too much to fail here,” Normire thought that the man’s eyes actually clouded with tears, but his piercing stare returned in an instant, “The mission has changed, then. Since we can no longer keep him in prison, we must try to defeat this demon.”

Normire liked how the man assessed the situation, not bothering to question Karak’s actions or put the blame on anyone. Normire, however, wanted answers, even though he really was in no position to drill Karak in his current, abused state.

“Karak,” he croaked, struggling to his feet, “How could you kill him just like that? We were guildmates for Grenth’s sake. Oath-brothers. We don’t kill each other! If he released Ja’al, don’t you think he had a good reason for doing so?”

Now Normire could feel everyone’s gaze upon him, and none were especially sympathetic. I’ve got to remember that they think me to be the enemy here. He expressed open disobedience to Pister, but he doubted that he was completely free from his control. But how then could he disobey him if Normire did not have control of himself? Remember what Dana said. Choose. I’m no madman from the Mists. I’m Normire Darkwind.

It seemed like an hour before Karak turned towards him, fist clenched. Even his sword trembled with barely contained rage. “Oath-brothers? Ha! Because of that man my brother is dead. Torn apart by bloody dryders miles below this accursed desert. Because of him this damn demon is free to do as he pleases. Oath-brother, eh? I say good riddance.”

Everyone turned back to Karak. Something had suddenly changed about the warrior. Normire had always known him to have a very short fuse, but there was something strange in his voice, in his eyes. To hear of Farrion’s death came as a major shock to Normire, but the sorrow in Karak’s voice was overlaid with another tone.

Normire did not know how Karak knew of the plot to release Ja’al, or how he had met up with Heather. In fact, he did not know much more than his original task to free the demon. But he assumed that the warrior had teamed up with these strange folk to try to stop the demon. Why then, would Karak kill the one man who knew how to defeat it? Even in his disillusioned state, Karak would not have killed Cyn. He would have waited until Cyn had finished off the threat of the demon, and then Karak would have dealt with him.

Yet again Normire could feel satori tickling the back of his mind. And yet again he could not discern it.

A sudden jolt sent everyone flailing to the ground. As though a mist of darkness was swirling around them, their circle of light grew small and dim. On the ground once again, Normire’s head spun. He decided against trying to stand and instead turned his gaze towards where the large doorway lay, past the glowing beam of pale blue light from the stalagmite.

His vision could not perceive the dark, but he could feel the presence of something vastly undead moving out from the doorway. For a moment he considered fleeing, away from whatever was coming out of that doorway, away from all the darkness and confusion.

Run and go where? He thought, This demon’s purpose is to send the whole world into darkness.

“May Dwayna have mercy on our souls.” Heather said from off to his left.

“Alright folks, this is it.” Habib said. His armour clinked together as he rose to a crouch, eyes towards the doorway, “We have three warriors,” he glanced uncertainly at Heather, “a monk/assassin and….” He cast his gaze at Normire.

That gaze felt like hot irons burrowing down into his soul. Even if Normire still wanted to see Ja’al freed and Tyria destroyed, he would have done anything to not provoke Habib.

“And you have a necromancer from the Mists.” Normire said finally.

Habib nodded, almost imperceptibly, and turned his gaze on Karissa, “And you?”

“Leave me alone!” she said, hugging Cyn’s body closer to her.

“She brings nothing to the table, Habib,” Heather said, “She’s useless.”

“F**k you Heather,” Karissa cursed through clenched teeth, “F**k you.”

The two women glared at one another like tom-cats before a fight. Even from here Normire could feel the anger and hatred that emanated from the both of them like fire. He could not remember why they hated one another so much, yet again, maybe he had never known.

“We need everyone. I think Big Charr has a spare sword on him that she can use.” Habib continued, motioning towards the aptly named Charr and he reached behind his back and unclipped a sheathed rapier. He handed it to Karissa but she ignored him. So he simpy rested it atop Cyn’s hand, as though the ranger could get up and use it.

Even the Charr seemed to be shaken at Cyn’s loss. His dark eyes were unreadable to Normire, but he moved with a slowness that told of regret, and possibly restrained anger at Karak’s apparent madness.

“We should get to higher ground.” Big Charr suggested.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Karissa said.

Habib sighed and surveyed their environs. Maybe he should just knock her out and carry her with us. Normire reasoned, Then again, she really would be useless.

“The floor all around us is in a mess. It’s another death-trap. Sharp rocks and jagged teeth of stone to tear the flesh, pressing darkness that rends the soul.” Karak said tonelessly. Normire cocked an eyebrow – he had never heard the warrior wax poetic before. It was supremely out of character.

No one else seemed to notice.

“Very well,” Habib responded, “I guess we’ll have to make a stand here. Stay here, I’ll go and take a look at our perimeter.”

He strode out towards the farthest limits of the circle of light, examining any possible escape routes and entrance points. The feeling of the sense of undeath grew more pronounced.

Karak’s sword grew brighter with an incandescence of its own, and suddenly Normire felt an uncanny sense of death. It was unlike that of the demon. This death was not repulsive in any way. Instead it felt refreshing, and hungry. Normire glanced over at the warrior’s sword and gasped. He knew such weapons. Forged with steel and magic such swords incorporated all sorts of powers, even necromancy. Karak’s sword lusted for blood. Karak’s sword was…vampiric.

But such weapons were harmless to the wielders. Yet Normire felt that this particular sword was doing something evil to Karak. The man seemed so very…hollow.

“Karak.” Normire called suddenly. The warrior glanced at him, “Let me see your sword.”

There was a pause, and then Karak responded icily, “No.”

Normire ambled to his feet and stumbled over to the warrior, “Karak, I think that sword is doing something to you, man. It…it has an evil aura.”

Karak raised his blade until it rested just under Normire’s throat, “Don’t come any closer, perra.”

Normire felt as though a lightning bolt had just come from the cavern-sky and electrocuted him. He jumped back, away from Karak, his eyes wide and frantic. Karak had just spoken, but the voices that came out of his mouth were not entirely his. Normire could hear the baritone of Karak, but there was also a sweeter, more melodic voice, soft and sensual. That voice reminded him immediately of Diana. But…how?! And overlaying them all was a cold, rasping voice, one that Normire wished he had never heard.

Pister….

In a flash, Karak was upon him, his hand clasping like a bear’s mouth around Normire’s throat. Fiery sea-blue eyes stared out from Karak’s eyeballs, and a wicked grin masked his face.

“No one defies me, boy. Diana did, hoping to escape into her lover’s body. Little did the bitch know that she only opened up the way for me to get inside this man’s head, pulling all the little strings as he went along. He blamed Cyn for his brother’s death! The fool! Farrion was a little to quick on the uptake for my liking. He had to go, along with their only monk and elementalist.” Karak-that-was-not-really-Karak roared in laughter, “I kill all the leaders of those who oppose me. Without heroes men falter and fail.”

Normire could not breathe. The air that came through his nostrils felt like the driest sand, coarse and shaving off the flesh of his inner nose.

“You are such a waste Normire. I could have used you. Now you die.”

Karak’s sword arm launched forward with such force that his sword could have split even granite.

All Normire felt was something chilly rushing through his chest. A tingling sensation filled his body and his vision faded into bloody nothingness. All hope suddenly died within him, for the demon was come, and it was dark and cold.

:O i'm guess ing something weird is gunna happen thats gunna confuse me again xD

hehe, but dont let u stop with this masterpiece :P
keep up the gr8 work

Bwahahahaha, I'm evil!

Awesome job. I think your writing gets better with each chapter; and I can definitely see the Robert Jordan influence. ;-)

man if Mister Pister doesn't get out of my head i will tear him to shreds

Hey again everyone! Thank you all for you views, and if you have any suggestions don't hesitate to drop me a note. Thank you Tera and Pister for your kind comments! And Karak, you may get a chance at that soon . Well, yeah I definitely read Jordan's works, with all that complexity he writes with and whatnot. I really can't seem to keep my stuff simple either . Anyway I've been having some serious block, which has been affecting every aspect of my life. It's been a blurry past three weeks (can't seem to recall much of it) and I haven't been able to write anything or do anything worthwhile until now. I was thinking maybe I should explain some things about Cyn's past and his relationship with Ja'al...so with no more ranting about myself, here's Chapter 32 - I hope you enjoy!

Into Shadow

There was stillness, and then there was nothing.
Memory filled the void, drowning out all else.


Lightning echoed mutely across the indigo expanse of sky, revealing the small tomb in the depths of the ravine below. He tightened the robe around his head and drew his dagger. There were others next to him, but all his attention was riveted on the dark tomb. Through its partially collapsed walls he could almost make out a figure down there, gazing back out at him. Or was it just his imagination?

“Are you ready, my lord?” asked a girl off to his right in the dark. A small cloud of mist danced around her, enveloping her small figure in a ghastly light.

He nodded and together the small company descended the ravine wall. Light receded from the heavens as they drew closer to the tomb. The wind started to bite through his clothes; to his heart, to his soul. He felt every muscle in his body tense in anxiety, and he had to swallow the fear that tried ever to slither up his throat. There is no going back.

The ground grew increasingly more tortured as they went along. Small rifts crisscrossed the smooth rock and thin streams of black smoke seemed to drift upwards through them from the depths of the earth. He and his company avoided these and worked their way closer until he called for an abrupt halt a stone’s throw away from the tomb.

“What’s the matter, Cyn?” the girl asked him in a hushed voice.

“We’ve been seen. The demon knows that we’re here.”

“It has nowhere to go. We have him.” Another one of his company said confidently.

Cyn glanced across at his companions, smiling at the utter confidence that they showed on their countenances. They were the best the Mists had to offer, but they were also all the Mists had to offer. This was a one-time mission. Failure could not be an option this night.

“Don’t underestimate Ja’al, my friends. Keep to the Plan at all times, I beg you.” He said eventually.

With that he broke away from the company and led the way up the shattered steps to the large door of the tomb. The door was riven in two, and a gaping hole glared out at them in the gathering gloom. A big enough hole for someone to pass through.

Thunder shook the sky and shivered the earth.

Cyn kept his eyes fixed on the hole in the door and motioned with his right hand for the company to break up into three teams of two and surround the building. Then he alone ventured to the door and stepped through the hole into the dark.

As his eyes adjusted to the murk, the layout of the inner tomb came into view. The tomb resembled more of a large hall, with a very high roof and a large expanse broken only by the occasional furniture. Several tall pillars of crystal ran down the length of the place and ranks of crystalline statues gazed out at him through horribly misshapen faces. No wind blew, even though there were many holes in the roof and walls of the tomb. The very air that he breathed smelled stagnant.

Crouching, he strafed along the wall away from the door. Nothing assailed him, and all was quiet save for the feather-light patter of his footfalls. It seemed that not even sound could penetrate to the innards of this tomb. Quickly he reached the rightmost wall, where many statues stood in holes set in the stone, gazing out blindly like gargoyles. He moved past them, growing increasingly wary with each statue that he passed. Each face seemed to get more and more disturbing. They warped more; some were mouthless, eyeless, and some were faceless. The expressions were ones of stark horror, pain, and desperate agony. Demons.

Then a hand suddenly grabbed him.

In barely restrained panic, Cyn whipped around, slashing at air with his dagger. The only thing that lay behind him was a statue, with an arm thrust forwards. I probably just backed up on that thing. He was just about to look away when he noticed something very queer about the statue.

It was like looking at a mirror.

Not only did this statue not have a warped face, but its face resembled Cyn so much that it could have been his maternal twin, only encased in crystal. The other strange thing was that another statue had its arms wrapped about the Cyn-statue’s neck. It resembled the prettiest woman Cyn had ever laid eyes on, almost like a perfect doll.

Each feature was pretty and perfect, from the many, intricately wisps of kinky hair to the rounded lips down to the full, proportionally correct breasts. The eyes were the prettiest of all, almost like jewels enclosed in glass. But something seemed very out of place.

Cyn held his breath and gazed around at his environs. There was nothing behind him. There was nothing above him.

He glanced back at the statues. What is so wrong with this? Why would the demon have a statue of him in the arms of some perfect woman he had never met, in its lair? Among the statues of other demons? Cyn shook his head. All answers evaded his conscious thought. Breaking his gaze off of the statues he continued on, keeping the statues to his right and the belly of the tomb to his left.

The soft scraping as of glass upon glass kissed his ears. Cyn suddenly halted and glanced back. Still, there was nothing to be seen. Yet he knew that the demon knew that he was here. All he could hope for was that the demon did not know that he was only the bait. He felt exposed here. Anything could take him from behind.

Cyn scampered across the four feet to the nearest pillar and backed it, staring out into the darkness. Still there was not a sound, not even a damn breath.

Did the demon get out? Cyn shook his head as he looked for the hole he had come through. The demon knew that he was here. The demon knew who he was. There was no chance that it would leave without first trying to do away with Cyn.

Soft laughter sounded off to his far right, on the other side of the tomb. It was answered by another set of laughter to his far left. And then everything went silent once again.

Why is it not attacking me? I’ve been here long enough, when will it strike?

He pressed himself against the pillar. Every second that he spent in this place he grew ever more anxious, more impatient. What if the demon had gone for the others? What if the demon really was not cornered in this tomb? What if…?

The sound of scraping glass again reached his ears from behind him. He eased around and peered around the crystal pillar at the wall of statues behind. Where they should be a crystal statue with a melted face laid only a dark, gaping hole.

Cyn turned back and cursed under his breath. Either that statue just moved or someone just moved it. Damn, either way I’m in for something nasty.

When being stalked, always keep moving. That was a line from one of the less flowery poems Cyn had memorised and he had always kept to that advice. Now, however, he just could not bring himself to do it. If he moved, he would be exposed. If he stayed, he would be painting a massive target on his ass. In a dilemma, nothing keeps me from doing the unexpected. Another verse from another poem.

Cyn left his pillar and strode out into the wide expanse between the two ranks of statues. All remained quiet and watchful; waiting in tense anticipation. What the hell can I do that’s unexpected? None of the poems ever mentioned that all-important detail. All of the courses of action that swirled in his head would reveal him completely to the demon: lighting a torch, singing, throwing something at the crystal pillars. Nothing else really came to mind. Well, if I’m to reveal myself I might as well do it in a most unexpected way.

“Ja’al,” he began, speaking in a conversational tone, “I am Cyn, your destroyer. I know exactly where you are, but I don’t feel like looking for you. Come out now and save me the trouble.”

As soon as the words rolled off of Cyn’s tongue, a shiver knifed into the small of his back, and he found himself flailing towards a pillar. He tried to turn around, to move his arms, to do something, but his limbs failed to respond. His dagger-arm thrashed about with a life of its own, as the nerves fired without any conscious signals from his brain. Only momentum carried his feet forward, flat onto his face.

Oh shit. I wasn’t expecting this.

A piercingly cold hand gripped his shoulder like a clamp and flung him around onto his back. Above stood a crystal statue, the one of the pretty woman with the tantalizing eyes. To his horror, and before Cyn could ponder on how the hell it could leave its place and find its way to him, she moved to his side and knelt down beside him, gazing at him with a perfect expression of concern. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a muttered curse.

“Wuh…the f**k?”

“Ah, so you’re Cyn.” She responded. As she spoke she seemed to melt; the crystal softening to skin and hair, “Come to destroy something have you? Maybe I can assist you in some way?”

Cyn could not reply. His mouth felt like jelly and his tongue like the thickest lead.

“That kick to the spine really f**ked you up didn’t it, Cyn?” she smiled brilliantly, revealing two rows of perfect teeth, white even in this place. “You deserved it you cocky bastard.”

Who in Melandru’s name is this woman? He grunted questioningly, flailing his arms as though he were drowning in thick mud.

“Do you honestly think that you could come waltzing in here – into my turf, and state your demands?” She frowned and almost playfully tousled a free lock of Cyn’s hair, “I’m not afraid of you, great Destroyer,” she added mockingly, “And I’m not stupid either. I know that you’re not that retarded to come here all by yourself. Where are the others of your little League of Extraordinary Fools? Waiting outside I suppose, like the little freaks that they are. Why do you surround yourself with such tripe?”

Cyn had learned every detail of the Ja’al demon. How it was bred and raised, where it lived, how it thought and was trained to think. Ja’al was an experiment in futility – creating an individual with the abilities of every profession, especially the demonic. While it was not a success, the experimentations produced strange results. One was that Ja’al did not have a formal look or shape, but more or less could take on whatever form it desired. It was a failed attempt to merge the illusionary blessings of Lyssa with the adaptive powers of Melandru.

Could this woman be Ja’al? No. She’s too perfect. Nothing can assume such a perfect illusion. Nothing!

“Why don’t we band together, eh? You and I. Nothing could dare to stand before us. Cyn and Ja’al. We will crush everything.” The former statue-woman beamed broadly.

She called herself Ja’al! By Melandru? Ja'al...is female? How could a demon look this…perfect? “It’s…it’s…because of that that you should…be destroyed.” Cyn managed to say. He felt happy that he could finally form a coherent sentence. The feeling in his muscles was returning.

The woman’s frown deepened, “I tempt you, don’t I? All this power in such a sexy package? You didn’t think that a demon could look so, did you? You want me, eh?”

“No.” Cyn said curtly. But deep inside, his mind reeled. Images of him standing over the burning remnants of every civilisation in Tyria flooded his eyes. He saw himself and this woman, wreaking havoc from coast to coast – from the Maguuma to the Jade Sea to as far as Istan and the other provinces of Elonia. Millions worshipped him as the new, sixth god – cruel and unstoppable. All he had to do was reach out and take this woman up on her offer. And then he would be the greatest Destroyer the world had ever seen.

“What’s the matter, Cyn? You don’t believe me? If I wanted I could have killed you already, as well as your comrades. But I haven’t. Don’t hesitate, now, Cyn. Let us rule together.”

Her eyes held Cyn like a warm embrace. There was a flawless expression of sincerity on her face, and Cyn was certain that if he said yes, all that he saw in his vision would immediately come to pass. No longer would he be some captain in the Mists, he would be captain of the World. And all he had to do was agree with the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes upon.

“What will it be, eh? I’ve studied you for a long time, Cyn. No one else knows your darkest thoughts, and your innermost desires like I do. And no one knows me better than yourself. We will make the most perfect couple.”

Temptation is like fine wine, brewed with poison. Savoury for the moment, but brings death nonetheless. Another verse, though Cyn could not remember the full poem. But he did not need to. He already knew what his decision would be.

“I…I…think that we’ll make magnificent music together.” A strange slithering, like that of black snake, wormed around in his deepest regions, but he cared less, “Let us rule together.”

The woman burst with ecstatic glee, gripping Cyn around the shoulders and helping him to his feet. Cyn felt like a new man, however more hollow. But he refused to care. The world would be his.

Then light filled the cavernous hall suddenly, and several explosions shook the very foundations of the tomb. Lances of liquid fire lashed out from behind pillars in almost every direction, landing into the woman with fury, and temporarily blinding Cyn. He staggered back, away from the searing heat.

“Fall’na a tyriae!” someone chanted from afar. Cyn realised that the voice belonged to Heather. She was chanting a binding incantation. Oh no! The world will be mine!

His company charged Ja’al, throwing everything they had at her. After the initial shock, Ja’al responded with an assault of her own. Black lances of cold ice spun from her burning arms, impaling three of the attackers. She conjured up large, dreadful creatures from the darkness, and set them upon the warriors from the Mists. The ambush was quickly turning into a slaughter.

“Cyn!” Heather cried from off to his left. She was fighting tooth and nail against three of the hideous dark beasts. Her daggers flashed out like lightning and she called healing spells about her frantically, but it would not be long before she was consumed, “Cyn, do something!”

I already have.

More of his company fell around him, each crying out his name for help. But he was deaf to everything. Ja’al’s perfect form held him engrossed, her eyes had him petrified with desire. What were a few lives when the whole world could be his? He strode over to Ja’al and stood beside her as she blasted away at his own team.

“How alike we are, Cyn,” she said, grinning, “You would betray even your family to gain more power. We were definitely meant to be.”

Time seemed to suddenly stop. Fireballs hung dead in the air, hair lay limp and breath caught in lungs. Cyn’s heart throbbed, even as a cold darkness sought to envelope it. What’s happening to me? He had just traded everyone he cared for to conquer Tyria with a demon.

Heather’s cry froze in her throat as one of the beasts clawed through her armour in slow-motion, “Cyn…!”

Cyn turned to Ja’al. “No.” He began. Beneath his breath he forced himself to complete the binding incantation.

“What did you say?” she replied, in perfect confusion. Her tantalizing eyes still held him spellbound. The warm embrace grew into a burning rage, trying to force Cyn to stop the incantation.

Then the ground fell away into nothingness beneath her feet, and she fell, screaming. Cyn grabbed her at the last moment, and frowned. It took all his willpower to fight at the dark slithering that ate at his insides.

“You revealed the darkness in me. Curse you, I almost gave into it. Never again. Into prison you shall go.”

“So be it, Cyn.” To his amazement, she actually smiled. “You can’t resist me forever.” With lightning speed she wrenched out her own jewelled left eye, throwing it at him like a parting gift, and wormed out of Cyn’s grasp, falling into eternal shadows.

I agree with Tera. Parts of it are a little confusing as I read this through. But thats good, because it gives me an excuse to read it again and again!

Keep up with this. I wish I wrote as well as you.

Thanx Minus for you support, and I'm glad you enjoyed it man! And once again I thank all you folks for your views and comments. Well, I really did not have much time to do any sort of writing this past week or so, but fortunately I had written this next chapter immediately after the previous one. I was more or less delaying to post it up though, because...well you'll find out. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy it - Chapter 33!


Out of Shadow


Big Charr grunted in displeasure as he regarded the growing dark around him. Not too long ago he had left the remnants of his company within Heather’s circle of light to join Habib in scoping the area. He had found that they were surrounded on most sides by rising, jagged cliffs of obsidian, formed when the floor had fallen and risen like a sea.

In other words, they were pinned against the rock. There was an almost clear path from the demon’s door to them, and they basically had no where to run.

Yet nothing has happened to us.

Everything was silent, and this too unnerved the Charr. Even his large, padded paws seemed to make not the slightest sound. He had grown up in the far north of Tyria, where it snowed unceasingly and where his folk had played all sorts of riotous music in their festivals. His folk were cultured but also fearless; he was raised amongst all sorts of weapons. Big Charr was bred to be a warrior, and had endured all manner of trials and rites of passage, but never before had he felt as much fear as he was feeling right now.

Darkness pressed in around him like a living organism; grasping and slithering with malicious intent. A coldness like unto that he had never before felt cut through his thick hide and armour to his large bones. For the first time since leaving his homeland, Big Charr shivered.

He had read the book that Habib had translated, the one with the images of the demon. Unlike the others, who were repulsed by the very sight of the thing, he had been intrigued. He still was. Beneath the coiling layers of black mist and through the occult icons and hideous faces that masked the page, he thought that he could see a small figure, incredibly beautiful. It was exactly like looking at one of those pictures that seemed to change depending on the light, or a person’s mindset.

He was not one to question his superiors. He followed orders, once they led to making the world a better place.

Now, however, he wondered. What exactly is this blinking Ja’al anyway? No one seems to know more than the fact that it’s a demon intent on destroying Tyria. But…bred by the Gods and raised by the Elonians…to destroy the world? It did not make any sense. Not even the gods of the Charr – the Titans – were stupid enough to attempt to destroy the planet. Where in blazes would they go?

He was not the sharpest knife in the Charr drawer, but Big Charr knew that something was missing. Something essential. Heather said that Normire wanted to use Ja’al to take over the world…but he seems to have changed his mind. Oh the confusion! Big Charr was a simple fellow, and did not like to ponder on fine intricacies. He yearned for that all important revelation that would set everything into perspective. But the one person who probably knew all the answers lay dead at Karak’s feet.

“Bloody arse!” Big Charr cursed. His whiskers twitched angrily.

He came to the end of his area and was just about to turn away when a small opening caught his eye. He drew closer, for at the base of one of the rising obsidian walls was a narrow chute. He could see nothing in it. But along the edges of the square opening were fine runes, which all shimmered in pale blue. The same colour as that of the beam of light escaping from the top of the giant stalactite at the centre of the cavern.

Big Charr backed away, furrowing his massive brows and pricking his ears. The runes were words, written in his tongue. How inscriptions from a language thousands of miles to the north came to be written on the edges of a small nook deep underneath the sands of the Arid Desert, Big Charr could not fathom.

“So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, seek the one in darkness’ cloud.” Big Charr recited. It sounded like a phrase from some messed up poem.

“Now this is quite odd.” He said.

“I guess I have to agree with you on that one, eh?” a voice called from behind him.

Big Charr spun around and found a human woman perched on an obsidian boulder behind him. She was clad in the weather-beaten dress of a ranger, complete with a battered hood that draped around her head. Presently she took off the hood and pulled out a long dagger.

“Now what are you? A talking Charr? What’s going on here?” her voice was husky, like a smoker’s, and even though she tried to sound unafraid her voice quivered.

This woman, whoever she was, was petrified of him.

“I could very well ask you the same thing, lass. And since I have the bigger sword, the bigger teeth and the bigger balls here I would suggest you answer first.” Big Charr replied, snarling for emphasis. He was not by nature a cruel creature, but if the woman was afraid of him, he might as well play his role well.

The woman’s face paled, and she gripped her dagger for dear life, “I, uh, I was sheltering from the storm, and I found my way in here,” she paused, breathing hard, “Uh, my…name…is Jala.”

Big Charr rounded her, stepping nearer. Although still dark, the blue light from the stalactite still managed to cast a dim blue glow on most things. In that light Big Charr realised something most odd about this woman. Not only was she pretty (in human terms of course) she was the most perfect specimen of a human female he had ever laid eyes upon.

From the gently curving forehead to the full lips to the rounded breasts – everything on her worked together so perfectly well that she seemed like a fine statue. Everything was so perfect, that it made her one flaw all the more glaring.

She had only one eye. Or so Big Charr assumed, for over her left eye was a black eye-patch. Now his folk were not renowned for any sort of statue-making – they could do little better than the wooden effigies which were only suited for torching – but Big Charr was sure that the woman’s eye-patch did not belong there. She was meant to be perfect, flawless.

“You were sheltering from the storm? I say, that sounds awfully dodgy. How did you manage to work your way down here, little lass? Didn’t the earthquakes and the darkness scare the bloody hell out of you?” he asked after a short while.

“I’m not afraid.” Jala responded curtly. “Now answer my question before I stick you with my sword.”

Big Charr grunted-laughed and bared his fangs, “My shortest tooth is longer than that butter-knife of yours, lass. Now come! I’m not about wasting time chatting with you.” He moistened his nose with his tongue and stepped closer. She seemed to have no smell at all, like the purest water.

He grabbed the dagger easily from her grasp and took hold of her under her arm. He half-dragged her back to the circle of light.

She gasped, but surprisingly did not scream, “Where are you taking me you animal?”

“I’m no animal, lass. I’m a cultured, sentient being just like any human, only bigger and better. You’re coming with me back to my camp.”

“Where you’ll rape and kill me like you did to all those poor people in Ascalon?”

Shut up you blasted bitch! Big Charr yearned to say. “You’ll see.”

With that he guided her back to the others, ignoring her questions and her insults. She grew silent just before they finally reached the campsite and stepped into Heather’s mist of light. Big Charr stiffened in sudden shock.

Karak was standing in the middle of the circle, glowing sword in hand. Still moist blood oozed down its steel blade. Before him knelt Heather and Karissa, hands bound, gagged and blindfolded. He was in the act of decapitating them both with a single strike. The mangled body of Normire lay off to his side.

“Holy shit!” he hollered, chucking Jala to his side and grasping his rapier with both hands. “Put down your weapon, lad! Do it now!”

Karak turned to face him; his eyes burned with such fire that Big Charr could feel it even from where he stood, like a roaring furnace. Every vein bulged, and his muscles tensed so much that his steel armour vibrated.

“Bring it, Charr. You can’t stop me. Even heroes fall before me, and you’re nothing but a talking beast.” The warrior’s voice sounded very odd, as though it was not one voice, but a mixture of at least three.

Well, that was the last straw. No longer could he take such insults to his character. This man Karak had killed both Cyn and now Normire, both of whom had first hand experience in dealing with Ja’al. Now he threatened to kill the last two persons who had even fleeting knowledge of the demon. Someone had to stop this madman.

“What are you waiting for, you dog?” Karak snickered, “Are you afraid? Good, for Ja’al will be mine.”

“I knew you were up to no good you bastard!” Big Charr shouted. He gave a great howl and raised his massive arms. His body trembled as he worked himself into a battle-rage.

At that moment, Habib came sprinting into the circle of light, taking in the situation quicker than dry sand absorbing water. Good. Karak might get me, but he’ll never take down Habib.

Like an out-of-control dolyak, Big Charr rushed Karak, reaching him at the same moment as Habib. Sparks lit up the air as their swords crashed into Karak’s glowing blade. Karak let them slide off his weapon, turned and thrust towards Big Charr with the force of a hurricane.

Big Charr barely evaded the strike, trying to riposte, but meeting nothing but air. Habib sent a flurry of strikes at Karak and so quickly their swords met that it seemed that they were hitting at one another with nothing but air, as sparks danced about them. Seeing that Karak was more focused on Habib, Big Charr saw his chance and lashed out at the armour around Karak’s hamstring.

Steel sliced through steel, as Karak made a satisfying howl and backed away. Habib pressed the assault. Suddenly a blue mist settled about Karak, mending flesh. Damn. He’s a monk as well as a warrior! Every blow that Habib managed to get past Karak’s defences was healed almost instantly. Yet he showed no signs of fatigue.

Habib made another strike, and Karak deflected his rapier into the nearby rock, sending Habib sprawling to his right. Then he lifted his glowing sword and drove it through Habib’s sword arm. Big Charr gasped and lunged towards Karak before he could make another, more fatal strike.

They pummelled into a rock wall beyond, and for a moment, Karak was stunned. Big Charr arced his rapier backwards and brought it crashing into the man’s right arm, disabling his entire hand. Healing breezes swirled around the wound, knitting back the muscle.

But Big Charr continued to strike, at the arms, the abdomen and the legs. His vision swirled with red. He stopped only when he realised that the healing breezes had stopped, and that Karak lay unmoving; staring at something behind him. Is this a feint?

He glanced back, and beheld the scene in the middle of the circle.
Jala was kneeling beside Cyn’s body, moving her hands over him in some sort of incantation. Black mist curled about her figure, and her one eye blazed a demonic crimson. Big Charr was immediately taken back to the image of Ja’al. A very pretty figure surrounded by the darkest night.

So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud, seek the one in darkness’ cloud.

“I knew you could never resist me,” Big Charr thought he heard Jala say, “Now let us crush the world beneath our feet.”

The black miasma swept into Cyn’s orifices – his nose, mouth, ears and pores. Defying all logic, his muscles suddenly tensed and flexed, and he writhed on the ground as the miasma worked through him like a coiling snake. His eyes burst open, but they were entirely black – void of any pupils or irises.

Big Charr felt a terror unlike that he had ever known.

“Oh gods,” the tri-voiced Karak said from behind him, “The crystal shatters, and Death has come.”

Cyn grinned like a maniac. He held Jala in his arms as he rose to his feet, and suddenly, they were gone. Vanishing into the darkness like a puff of smoke.


~The end.~


Notes

A load of thanks goes out to the former members of the Jade Empire, who were very supportive! I don't think I would have even considered doing this without their input. In addition, I'm grateful for all those who allowed me to use their characters - I hope I did them some justice . Also, lemme just big up you guys on this forum. There's lots of talent here, just stick with it guys and make this forum the best collection of GW fan-fic yet. I hope Crystal was entertaining for those who read it and I'll appreciate any crits that you guys may have.

Goodnight, and goodbye for now