Chapter 1   The Old Man's Tale   author: Veyanne - yellow , Henos - red , Thenna - blue , Temptress - orange  
The clouds would not relent. Day blended into night. The darkness was impenetrable. The wind howled.

The sorceress climbed the stairs of her tower. She didn't need to. She could transport herself there with the wave of her hand. Tonight she wanted to. The slow winding climb gave her time to think.  She had much on her mind.

The overlord needed her help. She needed to find a way to help him.

The top of the stairs came too soon. She was still deep in thought. Nothing had been resolved. She shook her head clear and walked over to the reflecting pool. She waved her hand over it and an image of an old man and young boy appeared.

The child looks up with his pale blue eyes.

"Why?"

As the old man continues his story, another pair of pale blue eyes peers out from the dark closet.  Ears listening intently.  Waiting for just the right moment...

"Sometimes things can't really be explained, child."

The old man sighs.

"What happened next?"

"Well, Christopher wasn't around for very long. He had fun playing the Cruciator for a while, committing all the genocide stuff, but eventually he got bored and killed."

"Who did it?"

"That's another story."

Yes. The old millenium had ended and the new one had begun. Chris was
no more, but the world had suffered in his wake.

"And what about the Overlord? Is he really dead?"

The gamemaster turns his old eyes to the child and smiles.

"Who knows."

The sorceress smiled.

A tear in his eye, the child shivers...

"Don't worry. The battle against the theists will continue. There are enough High Lords around to take his place in the EAC."

"I don't care about that!" pouts the child.

"Hmm, well..... I can see that."

The old man puts his hand on the little shoulder of the boy.

"But many times things don't really go as planned. You'll have to learn to live with that."

"Yes, listen well child.", the sorceress whispered.

"I don't like this story anymore. Why did you tell me this story?"

The old man smiles.

"Because it is your story. And some stories need to be told."

The old man slowly rises from the chair and exits the room.  Her chance has come.  Ever since she could remember, the old man had been telling him stories and saying they were his; but never her.  She was always left out. It wasn't fair!

There is a long silence. Then the boy gets up from the floor and walks over to the window.

She quietly opens the closet door... walking carefully so as to not be heard; she approaches the boy.

The sky is blue and the sun shines bright. The boy blinks and then whispers:

"I will avenge you, daddy."
 
She reaches out and grabs the arm of his shirt; spinning him around to face her.  It is almost like gazing in a mirror.  The only exception being the high black ponytail on her head.  Her voice is soft and low...

"It's my daddy too!  Why don't I ever get to listen?  Why is it always your story and not mine?"

Her tearful eyes lock on her brother's, demanding an answer.  Her trembling voice raises a few octaves as she screams at him..

"Why?"

The sorceress felt a spark inside. An idea took shape. She quickly waved her hand over the pool and another image appeared. A woman with firey red eyes stared back at her.

"Kendra. A young boy needs your help."

The woman kept her eyes fixed on the sorceress. She said nothing. She let the pause grow uncomfortably long. Then she finally said, "The usual price."

"As much as you need.", the sorceress had to steady herself. She had forgotten how hard it was to deal with Kendra. There was something about her that frightened even the sorceress.

Kendra left another pause, "I need more these days."

"You shall have it. My dungeon has been quite full.", the sorceress hoped she had enough. She made sure to sound confident.

"When I do, we shall talk more.", Kendra continued to stare through the reflecting pool. That was the way she was. She trusted no one.

The sorceress waved her hand and the image disappeared. She would rather have sent the warrior to aid the child. The warrior was not ready, but their last meeting had been more friendly. This mission required great strength. It was perfect for the Witch Queen.

But the sorceress had her reservations.

The snow fell silently from the dark night.  Outside on the balcony, she stood shivering in deep thought.  How much longer would it be before she could see them again... before their father could gaze into their pale blue eyes and know...

She should have told him while she had the chance, but she never dreamed he would be lost to her.  Word had arrived that he had survived but he was broken and torn... refusing to reveal his whereabouts.. promising that one day they would be reunited.  She knew he would keep his promise... the wait was painful though... especially with the children gone.

She couldn't protect them well enough alone.  Even though Christopher was dead now, there was still a bounty on the children's head's.  Two attempts had been made and the castle was just too large to secure to her satisfaction... she sent them away in the dead of night...  and oh how they screamed out for her.. it tore her apart, but she felt there was no other way... the battle still rages on...

Now the wind came to her.. howling through the trees... driving the snow into a frenzied dance around her.  She slowly turned and walked back in from the balcony to the fireplace.  The light reflecting off her face... her emerald green eyes piercing through the flames...  a chain of events were about to occur... she could feel it coming...