(Closed to Gnarl & Root)

I’m conscious…

His eyes were open, yet he could see nothing.

Am I…am I conscious?

He couldn’t feel anything. Not his hands, his feet, his arms or legs.

Where am I?

There were no sounds. There wasn’t a feeling of hot or cold on the surface of his skin, or even a heartbeat in his chest. Everything in his mind told him he should be naturally expecting these feelings, yet they were missing entirely.

Is this real?

Suddenly, a cold prickling sensation spread over the top of his right foot. It was slight, at first, but grew stronger with every second, reaching his ankle and the bottom of his shin.

What’s going on?

A mist of murky, hazy purple began to seep through the darkness towards him. He could feel the same cold prickling sensation sweep across his face as the black void peeled away from him, slowly revealing his surroundings to him.

The room, if you could call it a room, was smothered in a dense lilac mist that rolled over a dark granite floor and cascaded down from a cracked, mossy stone ceiling thirty foot above. There seemed to be no walls…just an expanse of void that stretched on far beyond what the eye could render, obscured by the thick steam-like substance pouring down from above.

As the feeling returned to his face, Atlas could begin to taste an electricity in the air, a cold static that curdled the blood and left an awful metallic aftertaste on his tongue. Then suddenly, although muffled at first, sounds began to erupt around him.

The hissing of steam, the snapping of an electrical current, the sound of his breathing and even his heartbeat echoed through his head. He still couldn’t feel anything below his neck and above his feet, and attempts to move his limbs were fruitless.

“Welcome back.”

The voice that spoke was soft but a little gruff. Atlas turned his head left in the direction of the voice and observed silently as a silhouette paced through the sickly marbled expanse of black and purple, distorted by the smoke in the same way scenery might be blurred by heat in a desert.

The figure stopped short of him, just enough to ensure his features were mostly obscured save for a straw sedge hat and what appeared to be a cane to lean on.

“Usually, it is difficult to speak after three years of having your mouth sealed shut. However, I’m going to guess you are the exception, no?”

Atlas tried to muster up the energy for a response, but his mind drew a blank and his mouth remained shut.

“No answer?” The man shook his head. As he did so, he caught a little of the light that was present in the room and Atlas made out some of his features. A short black stubble beard, a vagrant’s white and gold patterned haori from the neck down…and soft, mellow hazel eyes gazing back at him through the black. “I have to admit I’m a little shocked, but it can’t be helped. You’ve been treated with a little more intensity than your peers so it might take a little more time.”

The man put his hands behind his back, resting back on his cane, and sighed.

“Do you know your name?”

Atlas pondered for a moment, willing his mind to try to remember, but he couldn’t make a connection. He shook his head in response, and it was the first reaction the man in front of him had gotten since his arrival.

The man pivoted on his cane and walked back a few steps before stopping abruptly, waving a hand across his body to dispel some excess mist.

“Your name is Atlas Revaan. You are a Telgradian soldier, a servant of His Royal Majesty and a vessel of his will. At this moment in time you are in a Telgradian facility called Kokushi, recovering from your wounds.”

Atlas tried hard to think. Telgradian Soldier? Kokushi?

“Don’t try too hard to think right now, Atlas, because your mind is still fragile. For now, just listen to what I have to tell you and know this: you were brought to Kokushi to heal after being gravely injured in battle in service of His Majesty. The properties of this thick mist in this place can help to re-construct the soul and body in its entirety.”

The man paused, sighing again. He took off his sedge hat and wiped a bead of sweat from his head.

“Sorry, as you can probably tell by now, the humidity here is a little heavy. Anyway, it is beyond my remit to discuss anything of this subject further. I have orders to prepare you for a meeting with the Telgradian Council and they will brief you further on your…situation. For now, I’ll release your remaining seals and give you a little time to get your body in working order.”

The man raised his right hand, outstretching it towards Atlas, before muttering a quick and almost inaudible incantation. A ring of blinding silver light quickly expanded out from an epicentre close to Atlas’s heart, through his body horizontally and shattered into glimmering dust in front of his eyes. The man turned and began to walk away, dragging his cane with him, as the use Revaan’s arms and legs began to return to him.

“…Dakuatsu number thirty…Shirubashakkuru…with half an incantation.”

Atlas’s throat was dry and burning from inhaling some of the electrically charged mist as he spoke.

“…I can’t remember much, but…I remember…Shirubashakkuru. A binding spell. You only used half…half an incantation” Atlas found himself struggling for breath after only these short sentences, and stopped.

The enigmatic warden of this strange place stopped in his tracks, and had now spun to face him. This figure once again caught the light and his once relaxed expression had changed to shock, his eyes were wide with awe and his mouth slightly ajar. It took him five seconds or so to relax his demeanour.

“So you can talk after all, Revaan. Impressive, very impressive! Even more so that you can recall the details of a Dakuatsu of that level after waking from a three year sleep.”

Atlas fell silent again, his heart now pounding and his lungs burning from inhaling the strange purple smoke. The man tapped his cane on the floor and summoned a shimmering circular portal in the centre of the room.

“ …but I recommend that you stop and rest now. The more you talk, the harsher the atmosphere of this place will be on your lungs. I will summon some attendants to take you from here shortly, so sleep for now. Farewell, Atlas Revaan. We’ll…”

The man began to pace through the portal, its silver surface rippling as his body made contact with its surface.

“…meet again.”

Renown for its beautiful architecture and rich culture of arts and music, the Telgradian capital city of Garah was the crown jewel of all of Telgradia. Its famous Lunar Harp Theatre attracted people from all over the country to admire poetry and prose, and to lose themselves in tales of love, comedy and war. The bustling Garah Markets brought endless streams of merchants and traders through the gates, fetching their finest and rarest wares for all to bargain for from the four corners of the world. The inns and wine bars served only the finest meads and vine from every possible archipelago and continent on the face of the planet, and their rooms were bursting with patrons, their streets littered with the happy drunks and the disorderly at kicking out time.

The buildings in Garah were, by far, the most special sight and were the only ones of their kind in Telgradia. Constructed from a silver quartz-like material called Frach, the houses and structures spanning for miles and miles gleamed in the early morning orange hue of the sun, refracting light through their translucent skins to illuminate other nearby structures, who would share and pass on their own light.

In the town square, the Council buildings were aligned in such a way that the early morning sunrise poured light into a Frach trough that encircled the Telgradian Royal Compound and struck through it. This created a glowing golden crest in the image of the Royal seal, which was visible in the town square until sunset.

Atlas Revaan gazed upon the Royal seal from the third storey window of the Council’s headquarters, sipping hot tea slowly from an oaken cup as he awaited his audience with the council. Something about the image of the seal seemed to bother him, a small fragment of a detail lodged on the back of his mind somewhere, perhaps, but he couldn’t place it and thus dismissed it, shaking his head. He sat in a nearby chair, and cast his still weary eyes to the polished wooden floorboards, cradling his cup of half full lukewarm tea.

I can still barely remember anything, and it’s still so painful to see. After so long in the dark, everything I look at is giving me a blinding headache.

It was the first time in the three years he had been sealed that his body had ventured outside of the darkness of Kokushi or it’s internment section, so he had been told by his attendants, and his eyes were having immense trouble adjusting to the light three days later. Even staring down at a dull colour such as an oak floorboard was making his eyes ache, and his head thump, so much so that he dug his fingernails into his forehead and raked them through his hair irritably in a vain effort to release some of the pain.

“Atlas Revaan?”

A heavy, official looking sprucewood door at the end of the narrow white corridor had swung open, and in its doorway stood the heavy set features of one of the Telgradian Council’s messengers, complete with black coat-tails, white stockings and ceremonial white wig. Atlas looked up, slowly, making a visor over his aching eyes with his free hand to try and make out more of the man addressing him.

“Yes?”

“Apologies for the delay. Councillor Ra will see you now.”

Atlas nodded slowly, prised himself out of his chair, and paced up the corridor, handing the empty oaken cup to the messenger on the way past. “Thank you” Revaan said, nodding and closing the door behind him.

As he turned, he took in his new surroundings.

The first thing that hit him was the rich scent of fresh wood, a very delicious scent indeed. The room was only about twelve foot squared but it was panelled in mahogany, furnished with ivory trinkets and finished with Frach detailing around the ceiling. A large marble table separated Revaan from the business end of the room, on which a traditional silver Telgradian ceremonial tea set was placed.

Across from Atlas sat Flexton Ra. He was an imposing man, dressed in flowing and elegant black and red councillors robes, with hands the size of anvils and a belly that put about half a metre between him and the edge of the table. He stood up, running a swift hand through his greying locks.

“Atlas Revaan, my boy! Welcome, please sit down.” He extended an inviting palm gesture for Atlas to sit.

“Thank you, councillor.” Atlas responded, pulling up a nearby chair.

“Tea?” Asked Flexton, gesturing towards the tray ahead of him. “Dxun told me that you have had a bit of a taste for the Tiger Leaf blend since you left Kokushi on Monday.”

Atlas nodded, taking the pot and pouring the thin herbal blend into a silver teacup. He watched as the green liquid swirled around the cup, looking into his own weary eyes in the reflection of the surface of the tea.

“Who is Dxun, if I may ask, sir? I don’t recall the name.”

Councillor Ra picked up the teapot and poured his own tea, and sat down.

“Dxun Ra, my son, was the first face you saw when you awoke. He came to wake you and perform the undoing of the seals that had been placed on you during your rehabilitation.”

Flexton sipped from his tea, smiling as the green liquid washed over his dry lips. It was pleasant and refreshing. As he looked up from the rim of his silver cup, Flexton caught Atlas’s gaze. It was the first time he had really looked him in the eyes since he had arrived; they were deep, golden curious eyes. His brown hair was swept back to the crown, and for a man as old as he, Flexton could see a boyish charm about the lad. High cheekbones, strong frame. A fine Telgradian specimen indeed.

Atlas broke the momentary stare, and coughed. He appeared puzzled about something and quickly spoke his mind.

"He used Shirubashakkuru under half incantation to break my seals. My memory is still recovering but I remember a lot about Dakuatsu, and I seem to remember that spells numbering in their thirties were very difficult to control.”

“Interesting…” Flexton said, surprised. “Your memory…some of it seems to still be intact? Quite a feat considering your lengthy stay in Kokushi.”

Atlas sighed, sipping a little of his tea and averting his gaze from the window to stop his eyes from punching out of his skull.

“Look, I’m not sure what happened before I ended up in that place. Dxun told me I was injured in battle and brought to Kokushi to heal. I don’t remember anything prior to yesterday, sir. All I was told was that I was required here at the Council.”

Flexton nodded, sipping his own tea. “The Council doesn’t convene until next week, but I needed to see you before then. Can you spare me a little time for me to fill you in on your situation and a little bit about why you are here?”

Atlas nodded. “Sir, I have nowhere else to be, to be honest. I don't know if I'm ready to be up and about yet, either, but I guess I'm all ears.”

“Excellent.” Flexton stood up, lifting his weighty girth from his seat, and paced to the window, gazing out into the streets below.

“Telgradia is a beautiful country, Revaan, and for all intents and purposes a content kingdom now that the civil war has ended and peace is here. However, for all of its surface appearances and brave faces, it is also true that Garah and Telgradia are in a period of transition. The civil war that had befallen the country three years ago has left deep, lasting scars on the face of the nation; both physically and psychologically."

"The people had divided into two warring factions: those loyal to the rule of the King – Maxmillian Isa – and those who were discontent with the rule of the Monarchy, the separatists. Telgradia’s greatest general, of his own accord and against the Council’s wishes, seeked to help unify the nation under the rule of the Monarchy and set off with his trusted lieutenant by his side to end the war and defeat the separatists. But…something happened.”

Flexton sighed, adopting a more serious tone. “That general and his lieutenant found something much, much worse than the seperatists in the Outlands. A whole Telgradian seperatist empire, one so big it was a wonder it went undetected for so long. They were organised, well funded, and well led. The general tried to assassinate Shinsou Vaan Osiris, the Emperor of this dark state, and failed.”

Atlas frowned.

“Shinsou Vaan Osiris was a powerful and dangerous Emperor who commanded absolute loyalty from his army and sub-ordinates. When they attacked, they were ruthlessly efficient at it. We received intelligence from our border force that they were transplanting augmented souls into soul stripped vessels of men to make their soldiers more powerful, and then letting them loose against our patrols to test them. Once they approached Telgradian Royal territory, even if we managed to hold them off for a few days, it made no difference. Osiris himself was a wielder of levels of Dakuatsu that have been as yet unreached by our scholars and used a great deal of it to murder tens of thousands of people and turn the tide of the war in his favour.”

Atlas’s demeanour changed. He started itching on his right arm, and he looked anxious. Flexton hadn’t noticed, and was still facing the window.

What is this…I’m feeling?

“It was curious, though. Shinsou, however, seemed to weaken the further away from the Outlands he travelled, and was captured after Dxun had a short skirmish with him. We thought that something in the Valley of the Jalshey, Shinsou’s birthplace, may have been giving him power but we were never able to verify that."

“Was he executed?” Atlas asked.

“It’s complicated. His soul was razed from him and stored in a Pillar artefact – a crystal vessel – whilst his body was cleansed. Essentially, Shinsou no longer exists, save for that Pillar. And this…” Flexton paced back towards his seat, throwing his weight into the chair and crossing his leg. “…is why we need you.”

“You need me, sir?”

“Yes. The Pillar of Osiris is an extremely potent object that will try to manipulate and overcome its bearer in the hope of possessing him or her, giving Shinsou a new vessel. We wish to destroy it, for the good of all Telgradia. Up until yesterday we were on course to do so, but we believe the Pillar has been stolen by someone with connections to Shinsou and that someone has taken it to a realm called Althanas. We last felt its trace presence on an inhabited part of Althanas called Corone, an island nation and a melting pot of all sorts of cultures making it very easy to blend in and hide. You have a fresh mind and a fresh body after your experience in Kokushi and we believe you to be the ideal candidate to retrieve it for us, as the Pillar’s effects will take much longer to get a grasp on you than it would our other men. It is indeed a vile item, but you will be afforded every protection.”

Atlas fell silent, placing an empty teacup back onto the silver tray in front of him. His eyes were still throbbing, and he was internally wrestling with his head to suppress the headaches, but he mustered up the strength to respond.

“I have to ask, sir. Why me? I'm just a soldier, a nobody, really."

Flexton leant in, prodding a fat finger towards Atlas over the table, a glint in his eye.

“...because, my lad, you were our missing general, and I know what you can do."

What?!

"Yes, it was you. The one who stumbled upon the hidden Telgradian empire. Dxun found you gravely injured and brought you home to heal you after your encounter with Shinsou Vaan Osiris. You brought hope to many, and the name Atlas Revaan is revered and immortalised here in Garah. You will not have seen it for yourself, yet, as you have been shut off from the world for some time. But mark my words lad, there will be quite the circus about you if word gets out you have returned home."

This can't be real.

"Atlas, you must make no mention of your identity to anyone outside the Council or Telgradian Army until you leave the realm by portal. If you do, our little excursion might be compromised.”

“Try not to think about it too much, lad.” Flexton rose from his chair, offering his hand, which Atlas hesitantly took. He stood, head bowed, gazing into nothingness for a moment as he tried to take it all in.

“One more thing…” Flexton said, putting a comforting hand on Atlas’s shoulder. “I’ve assigned someone to you, to look after you until the mission. His name is Jaeger Keats, a Colonel in the Telgradian Royal Guard. He’ll make sure you are well looked after. For now, return to your barracks, and he’ll swing by and introduce himself later.”

Atlas nodded slowly, still a little dumbstruck. “Thank you…”

Flexton Ra nodded and ushered Atlas politely through the door, closing it behind him. There was a soft clicking of a latch as the door shut and a wheezing cough from the other side of the door.

I’ve really got my hands full with this.

Atlas looked ahead of him, past a waiting gentleman on the left who had taken his seat, and began to walk towards his dormitory.

The sun finally peaked back in through the steel barred window, escaping from out behind the cloud cover. The large puffy cumulonimbus clouds had covered the skyline for the past few days, the rain hadn’t yet come but the ever altering skyline was the only thing that changed from his four walled cell.

Gnarl watched the outstretched shadow of the bars slowly make their way around the room, was the sun moving that quickly through the sky? Or was it simply another illusion that derailed him from the reality of his enclosure? The cold stone upon which he lay felt more comfortable now than it had previously, not that it had changed physically, but because by now, after so long he had forgotten what a real bed felt like. No straw or cloth of which to rest his head, no layer upon which to separate the cold and the daily rumble that shook the whole room like an earth quake, but it most certainly was no quake.

Gnarl felt the rumbling once more, the grinding of stone as if his cell was moving, loose stones and dirt would rattle on the floor around him, while the vibrations that ran from the floor to his tired body felt somewhat relaxing. Gnarl stared at the floor, the same few pieces of dirt shaking about the stone paving by his face slowly made their way involuntarily towards one side of the room like a race from one side to the other; at least they were racing in his own imagination.

Stoney, his faithful rock remained still, only small itself, but a clear white that distinguished it from the rest of the darker dull stone of the cell walls and floor. Stoney had been his only friend, and even with the rattling room coming to a stop, Stoney’s fist sized bulk never moved.

“Why are you looking at me?” Gnarl asked Stoney.

“I can’t look at you, I have no face.” Stoney replied.

Gnarl looked confused, his small friend was right, he indeed had no face, and therefore lacked any expression and emotion. He hadn’t ever needed a mouth to talk, Gnarl could hear him wherever he was, that was strange enough, but how could Stoney see without any eyes?!

“I owe you a face…” Gnarl mumbled in thought as he let at a long deep breath of boredom.

“The real question is…Why are you looking at me?”

Gnarl looked away for a moment, covering his face with his dirty hands, and then taking a light peek through his fingers to watch Stoney from a more hidden perspective.

“You can’t hide from me…I know you’re looking from behind those fingers of yours.”

Gnarl removed his hands and revealed a surprised face, only a smudge of his usual face paint that ran down from his eyes remained, his usual black lined cheeks now more of a grubby mess. Stoney could see him no matter what, and he was yet to even have any eyes, what power of the gods did Stoney have? Licking his dry lips Gnarl rolled his head back and stared at the ceiling, the plain grey stone ceiling was as bland as could be, only a few metal pegs broke up the mass of grey, and they were out of reach, ready for a prisoners chains to be attached to them once again. Yet guessing by the light grime and moss that protruded from its grooves it showed they had not been used in some time. Gnarl had imagined being chained to them, hanging from the ceiling like a corpse hung to spread fear to the masses; yet in here nothing and no one could see him. There was just silence…

Then, a flickering of a shadow passed the window, and a large head with pointy ears shadowed the wall, the enlarged shadow making the figure somewhat intimidating and yet this was not the case; just more illusion. Gnarl stared at the shadow on the wall and crawled over to it, dragging his tired self until he could reach the smooth rock wall, and he stroked it while purring to himself as he imagined the cat beside him.

“I miss him Stoney, it has been a long time.”

“It concerns me to see you lose your mind in this way…” The rough almost growling type voice spoke out loud.

“ROOT?!” Gnarl exclaimed at the top of his voice, as he turned around and raised himself to his weary feet.

“I hope you realise you’re not going to stroke me like that?” Root replied nonchalantly, the small grey and black marked cat stood proud as his small frame allowed him to slip between the prison bars. His azure eyes glinting ever so slightly enough to allow Gnarl to make out his shadowed face.

“This place…” Gnarl muttered as he wandered towards the window. “It steals your sanity, and I find it hard to believe what it real or unreal before me.”

“Well it has taken me way too long to find this window again. I was starting to think I’d lost you.”

“Too long.” Gnarl sighed.

“But let me be clear, your time amongst these walls draws to a close, and I look forward to actually seeing you under the sunlight once again. Your skin looks ever pale without enough sunlight, should you be here any longer then I’d suggest you stand by it more often.

Anyway, pick option three, it’ll help me ensure your freedom. Option two will only make things more difficult, and option one, well, unless you wish to become another man’s love slave I highly suggest you don’t pick that one.”

Gnarl smirked at Root, his freedom so close now he could taste the fresh water and imagine the warmth of the sun once again shining upon his skin. Finally Root has returned to save him, his friend, while feline, was releasing him from the prison that no man could. The strangest but cleverest cat he had ever seen and while looking just like any other common cat, he hadn't ever met one that could talk or think like this, what or who Root really was, was a mystery.

Yet it had never really mattered, Gnarl spoke to Stoney, and he was normal, so what was so wrong with a talking cat? Nothing.

What seemed like sudden, came the incoming footsteps of another man, a guard who would usually push through a plate of food and water. He could tell it was the same man, the stuttered footstep of a man with a slight limp, only minor and yet noticeable to Gnarl, a man who had all the time in the world to notice such a minor thing.

Gnarl leaned back against the wall and stared at the door, watching the small metal food hatch, expecting it to open as usual and yet this time, the loud and clear screech and thud of the heavy unlocking latch echoed over the cave like chamber.

"Option three." Root quickly repeated.

"What?" Gnarl replied as he continued to watch the forever locked door finally open.

He Stepped inside, the guard who had fed him all this time, for months or years maybe, he wasn't sure just how long he had spent in here. Yet it was the first time since he arrived that he had laid eyes upon him. The bearded man, dressed in a long but fancy looking tunic, decorated with a gold looking lace and thread, yet still mainly sown out of a more common cloth or cotton, he looked smart for a guard. Gnarl looked down at his own clothes, old more ragged leather, tired looking and well used, but durable and still particularly undamaged, it has survived this long, so he couldn’t complain.

"Option three!" Root whispered once more.

"Who are you talking to?" The man asked confused as he stared suspiciously at Gnarl, then the window, and then Root.

"Myself...I often speak to myself, alone in my home..." Gnarl wandered away from the window and picked up Stoney, offering out his hand to the guard. "And Stoney! He keeps me mighty good company! Albeit he is the only company I have here in my…mansion."

The bearded man stood unconvinced for a moment while two more guards, cautiously more armoured than himself appeared silently outside the room. Still holding onto the door he considered shutting it again, Gnarl had been left alone for some time, had his isolation sent him insane? Scratching his bearded chin with indecision he looked back at Root, the quaint looking cat sat innocently on the sill of the window, rubbing his head against the metal bar rather convincingly.

"Meow!"

The guard smirked and glanced back over to Gnarl. "Alright, my name is Nius, and I am here to escort you to your ruling. You're going to my lord, where you will present yourself before him curiously and then you'll be given three options to choose from. Listen to him carefully, and do not speak until he allows you to speak. You will pick an option from a series of choices, and it will determine your fate. There are no second chances, and there is no changing your mind."

Gnarl looked over to Root, but only found an empty window. "What if I choose nothing?"

"Everyone chooses. Now follow me out, you step anywhere you're not supposed to and my friends..." He gestured to the overseeing guards. "Will kill you in an instant."

Placing Stoney into his pocket, Gnarl dusted himself off, however pointless in his situation, then took a deep breath to steady his nerves as his heart raced at the mere thought of being outside of his cell. What was waiting for him outside the door? Was there women awaiting his presence and was it raining outside?

Gnarl looked out the window for what felt like the final time, Root was long gone and the dark clouds did indeed prepare for a lashing down of rain. Oh how nice it would feel to be rained on once again.

Atlas? Look at what they have done to you.

At first the figure was no more than a shimmer of mist, diffusing through the cold night air. As it drifted through the musty room the furniture became slightly out of focus, like a poorly taken photograph.

It wasn't until Atlas closed the door behind him that it congealed into a form, a silhouette of a man with brilliant white eyes, a silver skin and the smile of a predator. His clothes were odd, like a ceremonial Telgradian uniform but half burnt, and from one hand dangled a severed head.

Atlas’s head.

You don't know me, but I know all about you.

For a moment all was silent, then suddenly the tell tale click of the door locking. Atlas froze. He could hear music now, a violin-led heavily distorted version of the Telgradian national anthem. He took a step backwards. Then the ghoul spoke, and not with the voice of a man but with the rasping tones of an old fifty-a-day smoker.

You're the best of them Atlas, it's not fair. They did this to you and I don't want history to repeat itself. I don't want you to end up like…

His grin became a snarl, baring teeth like a wolf, and he drifted closer without taking a step. Atlas opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. The thoughts accelerated inside his head. He wanted them to slow so he could breathe but they wouldn’t. His heart was hammering inside his chest.

I don’t want you to end up like…

The phantom smothered him, covering him in a blanket of darkness, and then suddenly the ground opened up beneath his feet. His stomach wrenched as he fell, and the air sucked out of his lungs.

Suddenly, there was nothing.

“Fuck!”

Atlas sat bolt upright. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and off the end of his nose. It took a few seconds for him to take everything in; the whitewashed stone walls of his room, the still fresh scent of lime from the burnt oyster shells used in the whitewash, the flickering candlelight of a bedside lantern. He threw back a white sheet that served as his duvet and placed his feet on the cold stone floor, resting his elbows on his knees and placing his head in his hands, ruffling his brown hair and heaving a massive, chesty sigh.

Another sleepless night. But this one felt different to before. I know that voice. Who was that?

Atlas stood up, and threw a shirt over himself, tucking it in to his loose pants. As he went over to the lantern, shadows danced about the walls and a cold draft blew in from the window, making the hairs on his arms stand on end. Atlas paced over to a mirror, leaning on a rail in front of him, and peered into it, lifting up his shirt. For a man so apparently brutally wounded, he had no scarring, no tell tale signs of wear and tear, which he thought odd for someone who had taken as much punishment as was being suggested by Dxun and his subsequent meeting with Flexton.

Curious, he ran his palm over the skin. It was soft, tender, supple…not the skin of a soldier. He would have expected the skin of a soldier to be weather beaten, rough, and nicked. Maybe he was being paranoid. Without a working memory it was easy to be suspicious of everything.

Or is it? If that’s the case, why did I accept Councillor Ra’s mission without question? I mean, I don’t remember anything prior to a couple of days ago. Should I have been suspicious? I’m a soldier, after all…I follow orders, I don’t act on hunches. Even so…

Suddenly, there was a loud rapping at his door. Atlas dipped his head away from the mirror and walked to the heavy oak door, pulling it open using the black iron ring handle.

There was a man stood in the doorway. He was tall, slim built, and neatly dressed in some sort of uniform; black trousers and waistcoat with an open collar white undershirt. He wore a grey greatcoat, opened down the middle, and strange shoes that looked more akin to something from a dinner party than military dress. His hair was short, black and slicked back, the ends of the strands curling slightly, and behind a thin, gold pair of spectacles were eyes so dark they were almost black. The man’s hands were tucked into his coat pockets. Atlas couldn’t help notice his cold expression, it was particularly striking.

“Revaan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m Keats. Can I come in?”

Atlas looked puzzled. “What do you want? You were supposed to be here a couple of hours ago, I’d given up on you. I need to sleep, really. It’s late.”

“It’s not about what I want, Revaan.” Keats strode in anyway, brushing past Atlas without much resistance. Atlas shrugged, and closed the door. “It’s about what’s right.”

Atlas was still confused. He stood there for a moment, flummoxed. Keats continued, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, leaning in to Atlas’s ear.

“I can’t talk long. As you know, I’m one of your assigned bodyguards for this little trip we are taking. I’m telling you now, be careful where you place your trust. Believe only half of what you see, and none of what you hear. Your life may depend on it.”

Atlas looked a bit rattled. He stepped back, brushing a hand through his untidy hair. “What? What do you mean?”

Keats stopped dead, pulling back his head to click a bone in his neck. There was something very cold about him, perhaps a lack of feeling in his voice or a chilling glint in his eye. Whatever it was, Revaan couldn’t place it. He just knew it spooked him a little.

Atlas had heard enough. “Look, I don’t want to be rude but I don’t know why you are telling me all this. I can’t hear this right now. I need to sleep. If you have something to say, tell me tomorrow when my head is right.”

Keats walked back towards the door, stopping just short. Atlas had already turned his back to replace the lantern onto the bedside table, hoping Keats had spoken his last for the night.

“You don’t know me, Atlas, but I know you. Oh yes…I know all about you. Look what they’ve done to you, Atlas. You’re the best of them and look what they’ve done…”

What? That voice…!

By the time Atlas had spun round, there was no-one there. Keats had vanished into the night as quickly as he had appeared without so much as a sound, and Atlas was left alone in the dance of the candlelight to contemplate the words of his enigmatic bodyguard.

The next morning, the early dawn sun poured over the military compound and filtered in between a crack in the curtains in Atlas’s room. He stirred slowly, throwing back the covers and stretched until his fingertips stubbed the headboard. Opening his eyes he caught a glint of the sun before casting his gaze to the door that Keats had come from last night.

There was an envelope on the floor.

Frowning, Atlas rose to his feet and paced across the cold slabbed floor, scooping the letter from the tile. He whisked his thumb across the edge, slitting it in two, and unfolded the paper.

Let’s have a little breakfast meeting tomorrow. Ask the fat-man Flexton to set up a training session in the morning and if you impress me, we’ll talk. You could probably use the exercise anyway.

-Keats

PS – Bring a towel.

8:30am – Telgradian proving grounds – 10km from Garah.

Atlas skirted around a pile of brown frosted leaves, the innumerable flashing fragments shining in the brilliant wintry dawn light, for today there was no weather; no wind, no cloud, just sub-zero temperatures. Even the leaf stems lay white and sharp. Ahead the narrow Frach path glistened like white quartz, carving a snow-capped forest in two before arriving at a wasteground clearing.

All this beauty over everything ugly. And here I am to add to it with a sparring session on a cold winter morning.

Revaan paused, his breath rising in visible puffs. He remembered why he came, even though he didn’t want to. He had agreed to some "refresher" course in close quarter combat. He'd gone to the second highest authority available to him, Flexton Ra, and asked for Keats specifically to train him, something that had surprised the councillor. Keats was a member of the Telgradian Royal Guard, an elite unit, far stronger than the common soldier. Atlas needed to talk to Keats, though, and this was the only way of getting hold of the bastard, apparantly.

There was no wind and were it not for the biting cold Atlas wouldn't have noticed the air at all. He was more accustomed to these temperatures meaning moisture, but it was tinder dry and dehydrated him every bit as fast as summer heat. With each breathe precious drops deserted him and his headache grew. The snow at his feet was looking more inviting all the time and so every few minutes he ducked down to take some and place it on his tongue to melt.

“General Revaan.”

The first man that walked into the clearing looked liked an aged version of Keats. At first his eyes were cast to the snowy earthen floor and then he seemed to suddenly realize he was at his destination, at the rendezvous. He lifted his head. His face had the same structure as Atlas’s, high cheekbones and symmetrical. He had the same gold eyes and pale skin. He was still slender despite his years, toned and not at all stooped.. Around his eyes were laughter lines in just the right amount. Revaan supposed that he was often happy, but at that moment he was deadly serious.

The second man was Keats, the enigmatic messenger from the previous night.

Atlas raised a hand to wave. The man’s face split into the smile Atlas had imagined him to wear often. Then he came over in fast easy strides, ones that crunched in the snow, with Keats by his side.

“Atlas, good to meet you. My name is Osho, I’m responsible for your refresher training.”

His face shone in the dawn light which was beginning to pour over the glade. Osho gestured to his left.

“This is Colonel Jaeger Keats. He is a serving member of the Telgradian Royal Guard, and he will be putting you through your paces today to make sure you can handle the rigours of battle, just in case you run into any trouble. Remember – you have only been out of Kokushi for three days. We aren’t expecting you to pull up any trees yet, so take it easy, and just try to familiarise yourself with your skills. Now, I’ll leave you in Keats’s capable hands.”

Osho gave a final respectful nod towards the pair, and turned, striding back through the clearing from the direction he came.

There was a moment of silence. The two men stood face to face, a couple of feet apart. Atlas studied Keats carefully for a moment, looking for a change of expression, but none was forthcoming.

“When you came to see me last night, you talked about “what they’ve done” to me, and “being the best of them.” What was all that about, Keats? You shot off before I could ask.”

Finally, Keats broke his expression, laughing.

“That? A heavy night on the old tipple, must have been pissed as a fart when I dropped in on you. I’d come from an officer’s retirement bash in the mess. We tend to get a bit heavy duty in there when it comes to the ale. Magic stuff.”

His tone was jovial, but not particularly convincing.

“Bollocks. You weren’t pissed. I couldn’t smell so much as a whiff of beer on your breath.”

Keats shrugged.

“Is that so? Well, maybe I can handle my drink better than most, mucker, but ale is ale. Does things to the mind, you know. You’d know plenty about that an’ all. But I’ll tell you what, general. If you can beat me one on one, it might just be enough to clear the hangover and get the old memory working again. What do you think, you up to it?”

Atlas smirked, brushing his hair back.

“Yeah, I’m up to it, but if you won’t come clean about these little secrets, I’ll just have to beat them out of you!”

He suddenly jerked forward, throwing a crisp right jab at Keats’s left cheek. Keats saw it coming and pivoted on his right foot, bringing his body ninety degrees and blocking with a solid left palm. He stepped in towards Atlas, counterattacking with a low right kick. Atlas quickly crouched, throwing up left arm to block the kick. A shooting pain shot up his arm and shoulder like a lightning bolt as the boot connected with his flesh.

“Quick and instinctive. Good!” Keats said, grinning. “This might just be worth missing breakfast for!”

“You’re starting to piss me off!” Atlas growled. “Arrogant little shit!”

Atlas pulled his arm away and rolled backwards. The snow peeled from the ground as he went, lifting bits of debris with it. Untucking out of the roll, Atlas staggered backwards a few more yards and righted himself. Keats looked bemused.

“Why did you do that? Putting distance between us? It won’t matter, I can close that gap in an instant!”

Suddenly, a faint glow appeared in Atlas’s eyes. His smile was wry. Through his eyes Keats could see something, a gold-orange circle around their pupils. Then, Atlas raised his right hand, outstretching two fingers together.

They were pointed directly at him.

“Dakuatsu forty: Shinohai!”

A blanket of silence covered the clearing. Nothing happened.

Frustrated, Atlas tried again.

“Dakuatsu number forty!...”

Shit!

“Performance issues?” Keats asked, mockingly. “Don’t worry, happens to a lot of men. One out of ten I hear. Still, practice makes perfect.”

Suddenly, Atlas felt naked and vulnerable. He tried to deflect.

“Who are you, really?” Atlas enquired. “I know enough about Dakuatsu to know that casting a forties tier spell without an incantation would raise a few eyebrows here, yet you were almost expecting it and only seemed to be surprised when it failed. Why?”

Keats stayed silent. Atlas detected something at this moment, a similar feeling to that he felt when Councillor Ra was briefing him. Was it suspicion? Just what was it that people were trying to hide from him?

After a moment, Keats sighed heavily, and shook his head.

“You want to take all the fun out of it, don’t you? Let me show you how it’s done.”

He outstretched his right arm, revealing a black tattoo that spiralled up like twisted vines to his bicep. It began to glow a scarlet hue as Keats pointed two fingers at Atlas.

“Let the scales fall from their eyes, the blind, and let them know their own powerlessness. Let the wind carry their ashes to the sun, and scatter them."

Shit! A full incantation for…

“Dakatsu number forty: Shinohai”

There it was, from the tips of Keats’s gloved fingers... a colossal grey wave of razor sharp ash, sweeping towards Atlas at over one hundred miles per hour. It was rushing, racing, roaring towards its target with a frightening pace.

Atlas’s body was paralysed with fear, his breath coming out short and sharp. He knew he had to run, but his legs refused to move. He watched, eyes glued, as the wave surged in, threatening to destroy everything in its path. It was unbelievably strong, powerful, almost unstoppable.

“…Ugh.”

His lanky arms twisted to protect his body from the constant slashes of Shinohai’s relentless cloud of razors. His skin, cracked and rough, stung bitterly as he awaited his enemy's next assault, but it did not come. His body remained tightly knotted, still anticipating Shinohai's next blow; once again, it did not come. Blood seeped from a hundred small cuts over his body, his clothes torn where the ash had slashed him, and though he expected a follow up, there was nothing. Atlas finally crumpled to his knees, his heart racing, his breathing laboured. He was alive, but he was hurt.

Keats sighed, ravelling his cuff back down to the wrist. He was smiling as he trod over the bloodstained snow, leaving a trail of bloody bootprints behind him. As he reached Atlas, he knelt down and spoke into his ear, almost mad with delight.

“Now that’s just magic! That’s what I want to see! Survival instinct! Anyone else would have needed peeling off the walls with that level of attack.”

He wiped the saliva from his lips, and coughed. Atlas looked up, clutching his injured torso, cradling his slashed right arm.

“I want to make you remember, Revaan. There’s power in you. I’m talking about real, tangible power, not just fighting spirit, or will to survive, or any of that crap. Don’t keep me waiting long for it! I’ll see you soon!”

Keats spun to greet some approaching attendants, who were appearing just through the tree lines. They carried water, medical supplies and other small items, and as they came across the clearing Keats passed them on the left, heading for the path to Garah.

“He’s ready. He’s definitely ready for this. Get him a towel or something.” He said, wryly grinning to himself. "Looks like he forgot to bring one after all."

Nervously Gnarl moved out of his prison, past the guards and into the long candle lit corridor, the guards shiny armour reflected each flicker of the many candles as they began marching forward, ushering him to keep up with Nius. Gnarl frantically skipped a few steps as he marched into sync with Nius in front of him, his legs taking a few moments to get used to moving beyond that of a couple of steps. It wasn't an attractive corridor by any means, more a continuation of his old dank dwelling but it felt a little less claustrophobic than the same four walls he had spent such time in.

Gnarls mind ran free, the thought of seeing the outside world was exciting him more and more, the possibilities, the experiences...he missed them all! No more walls! No more walls!

"hurmmm, hummm hurmph...."

Gnarl looked over his shoulder for the speaker, the cold stares of the ever watchful guards met with his more timid gaze. If they were talking, then they were clearly whispering about him or something else he wasn't to know about. Gnarl faced forward again, he didn't want to give either of them the chance to use the threatening looking halberds they held alongside.

Gnarl wasn’t easily intimidated, but he appreciated the impressive appearance of the armoured men, the chainmail undergarments, the plated chest and shoulders, and the black staff of the Halberd that held the shiniest of steel blades together. No expense was spared in their creation and their visual display as they led him away from the dark recesses of his cell and to what he expected to be a brighter more pleasant place; was promising.

"hurmmm, hummm hurmph...." The muffled voice repeated.

"What?" Gnarl questioned towards whoever was willing to respond.

"What do you mean what?" Nius replied a little annoyed as his eyebrow raised skeptical of Gnarls sanity.

Gnarl looked back rather confused, his eyes widened with embarrassment as Nius stared back at him like he was crazy. Even if he was, he had to ensure he contained himself for long enough to get out of here. “Oh, err...I was going to ask a question, but changed my mind.”

Arriving at the end of the corridor, another door with another equally large lock, shifted open before him after a swift knock from Nius. Gnarl felt the urge the cover his eyes, if only for a moment as he left the darkness for the final time to step into a well-lit corridor. There was no hesitation and no delay as they passed through, straight into a next corridor, brighter and much cleaner than the dim and damp passage he had just travelled.

Immediately he smiled, there was an actual carpeted floor, with a long red rug that ran straight down the center of the posh corridor. The stone walls painted a cleansed white, and large burnt out candles sat in the small wall pockets leaving the only visible black marks on the clean architecture. The sunlight entering in through the large glass less windows brightened the corridor without the need for any lit candles. Where were the dark clouds again?

A light but cool breeze blew down the corridor, wafting down with it the smell of freshly cooked food. Some sort of bakery perhaps? His mind continued to wander and his stomach continued to growl at the thought of attaining some of this food.

hurmmm, hummm hurmph...."

Gnarl listened again, his eyes dancing back and forth between potential culprits, who was making such a racket at a time like this? Was it a test to see exactly how crazy he was? He wouldn't react, he couldn't let them win, he had to escape. Trying to change his mind set, Gnarl reached out and touched the creamy coloured wall, then a sudden strike slapped his hand hard as the pole of a halberd knocked him clear of the wall.

"Keep your hands to yourself!" He shouted from behind, the same angry and suspicious eyes that continued to plague him would not relax even for a moment.

He stroked his hand as if to rub away the pain, before retreating his playful hands into his pockets for a bit of security. The rough surface of Stoney quickly became clear, he had almost forgotten he was in his pocket.

"Hurmph...hmit's about time...it rather restricting in here." Gnarl nearly spoke out loud in reply but for Stoney's interruption. "Don't talk...Just listen. This is your chance to find a way out...don't mess it up. You can't afford to try and make an escape now, the guard on your right is lazy, but his counterpart who hit you is more than just angry. Don't get taken in by the delights of the open world. Concentrate."

Wait..hold up second...your voice is in my head...how could you possibly be muffled?

Gnarl continued quietly behind Nius, almost biting his tongue to ensure his silence before then stopping by another even larger more open entrance to a considerably larger room. The boxed style corridors were no more, the tall arching ceilings immediately opened into a visual spectacle that was one mighty grand hall of god like proportions. Gnarl lost himself for a few moments, he wasn't sure where the lay his eyes: the giant cylindrical marble pillars, the artistic designed ceiling of crossing beams and arching supports, the huge marble pavings that they walked upon, each larger than his own cell, inhuman in size, but then before him the uplift in the floor gave rise to a small staircase leading to a raised platform of seating and its occupants.

for the first time in a long time, Gnarl was not fidgeting, nor was he feeling the need to speak to Stoney, for the first time in a long time he could be alone in his own thoughts without sounding like a mad man, what god had created such a masterpiece in size and design?

"Kneel!" Nuis demanded as he kicked at the rear of Gnarls right leg.

Gnarl bowed ever so slightly bearing a hint of sarcasm as he did, no matter who he was before him, he would only kneel before a true god. The man sat aloft the platform looked amused as his intrigued eyes peered down into Gnarl's, the consideration to who he could be, was lacking.

"I would normally punish greatly a man who would bow so sarcastically before me..." He deep bellowing voice echoed over the great hall as Nius gestured towards the guards to strike Gnarl down.

"Do not!" The man shouted to their approach. "Time for punishment has long since passed for this man. I am looking more to the future than the present, and I do not require such measures to be enforced at this current moment in time."

The long baggy robe that covered almost his entire self momentarily slipped off his leg as he adjusted his sitting position, while the hood covered not just his head, but shadowed his face entirely as if he had none at all. Just a black abyss that shrouded his appearance from those that would present themselves before him.

"You are Gnarlnoc are you not?" He questioned.

"Indeed I do go by that name of birth. Given by my mother."

"Your sentence here...for Murder of an official to the one true king, in fact one of his appointed Earls, was forever imprisonment, to spend out your days in a walled prison that would send you insane and to self murder. Yet here you stand, and I say with much surprise, before me.

The King has announced some changes to your sentence. One would question why...but for the fact that the King always has a plan beyond that of any normal mans understanding."

"Why?"

The hooded man's head tilted, and his fist clenched over the knob of the thrones arm. "Your humour is not well placed vagabond, and you would be wise to heed silence before I pick your destiny for you."

Gnarl smirked before a forceful boot walloped into his thigh and he finally kneeled before the hooded lord. His hand pressed against the cold marble floor to avoid head butting it as he tumbled forward, its blur of mixed colours, almost pretty, left him staring into its blissful pattern. Once again felt the weakness of his underused muscles as he steadied himself, now his thigh really hurt.

"I give you three choices vagabond, and I will not give you a second chance to choose. In fact, for your insolence, I now offer you no explanation for your selection, I merely offer you one of three scrolls. You may understand your fate by reading it upon your choice...You can read can you not?"

"Yes...I can read..." Gnarl muttered under his breath."

The condescending voice frustrated him, what he would give to have taken one of those halberds and then stab it into that man's hidden face. What reason would such a man need to hide his appearance so? Or worse, did he even have a face of which to make bleed? Gnarl stood back up slowly, his legs feeling more weary than they had before, while the robed lord above him now revealed three scrolls, each neatly wrapped up and sealed with wax.

"Time is ticking away vagabond, which scroll do you desire the most? Scroll one? Scroll two? Or scroll three?"

Gnarl thought for a moment, the anger pulsating inside, held back only by the knowledge that he really could do nothing about this man, he was trapped here until he made a choice. He had to stop delaying the inevitable, he had to just go along with what he was given, because the truth was as a prisoner this was the only choice he was ever going to be given. It was time for Root to finally prove his friendship and trust.

"Option three...I pick the third scroll!"

The central council building was quite unlike anything Atlas had ever seen before, even in a city like Garah.

At first he was struck by the imposing columns all around the rectangular receiving room, a place where diplomats and commanders were awaiting an audience with the Telgradian Council. Each column was linked to the next by a perfect archway and the curved ceiling was inlaid with gold trim. In the middle was a grand fountain in the shape of an angel, exquisitely carved from ivory tinted Frach, from which water that was as blue as glacier run-off cascaded from. Even the water foamed beautifully as it hit the marble base below.

The stone was cold beneath his feet and he shivered a little, but at least he wasn’t going to have to wait too long. It was nearly ten o’clock. Everyone in the room was restless.

“The briefing will start in just a few minutes, ladies and gentlemen.” Bellowed a voice from behind one of the pillars. The voice echoed around the room and down the hallway behind Atlas.

As he turned to meet the voice, still aching from his session in the woods yesterday morning, he saw Keats across the room who had already begun to stride towards him. He was looking a lot more formal today, wearing the gleaming white jacket and pipe-clay cross-belt of the Royal Guard uniform over the traditional black undershirt, accentuated with polished gold buttons.

He shook hands with Atlas, smiling and peering over his gold rimmed spectacles.

“Good to see you well, Revaan, after our intensive training. Not that I’m surprised you are well, of course. You healed a treat.”

Atlas frowned. It was hard to hide his feelings on this.

“Funny that you say that, Keats. A Dakuatsu number forty with full incantation, and you’re not surprised I’m alive. I think it’s safe to say most people would be stunned that I even managed to pick myself up from the dirt after an attack of that level, and yet it doesn’t even make you flinch.”

Revaan was looking for some sort of reaction, but Keats remained calm, and answered with a cavalier wave of the hand and a smile.

“What exactly is it you are trying to insinuate? I’m just pleased you are well, surely that’s what you’d expect from a comrade, especially towards a former hero of Telgradia?”

“Former?”

“A figure of speech. No one knows you are back, save for the army and the council.”

Atlas paused. He looked around a little and realised that there were others around him whose ears might have pricked up. He needed this talk, now, before the briefing, but not with others in earshot.

“Can I have a word, privately?”

Keats nodded, and gestured to the side of the room, underneath an archway that wasn’t occupied. Atlas followed, and when they both stopped, he leaned in close, jabbing a finger into Keats’s chest.

“I think you know more about me than you’re letting on. I’ve also been thinking about things since I woke up in Kokushi, and I’m starting to wonder if the Telgradian Council know more than they are letting on, too.”

Keats looked a little shocked for the first time since they met, but composed himself quickly. Atlas continued, retracting the finger.

“When I saw Flexton he told me that I was General Atlas Revaan, the hero who went to fight the Telgradian separatists and ended up getting beaten within an inch of his life when he stumbled into something he shouldn’t have.”

Keats shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s right. Where are you going with this?”

Atlas pointed a finger back at himself, tapping the tip against his chest.

“I was brought back from battle by Dxun, Flexton’s son, who was my lieutenant. When I woke up, he didn’t seem friendly, or happy to see me. He was supposed to be a time served sub-ordinate of mine and yet it was as if I were a mild inconvenience to him.”

Keats scoffed, a dismissive expression etched onto his face.

“To be fair, Atlas, you had only just woken up from a three year healing process. Could be that you were just disorientated? It’s hard to read a man when your own judgement is distorted.”

Atlas frowned again. He paced away slightly from Keats, bowing his head, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I suppose I can’t rule that out…but I have other concerns. I’ve been kept away from people unconnected with the council or the Telgradian Army. Flexton told me that the common folk knowing who I was would possibly endanger the mission to Althanas. Fine, I can live with that. But I talked to my attendant the other day, a pretty little lady who was maybe a little on the naïve side, and she told me something, Keats.”

Atlas turned, staring him dead in the eye. His golden eyes narrowed, intensifying the gaze.

“Kokushi is a prison, not a healing chamber. Not only is it a prison, it’s one of the most secure prisons in Telgradia.”

Suddenly, Keats’s demeanour changed. It was as if he were waiting for this realisation, and for a brief moment Atlas noticed a glint in his eye. He folded his arms, and bowed his head.

“Go on…”

Atlas continued, his tone deep, his mouth dry.

“Now, perhaps it’s true that Kokushi has a first class healing chamber that was really needed to save my life. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. But something about the whole thing doesn’t add up. Why hide the fact that Kokushi was a prison to me? You see, it’s all these little things that don’t add up.”

There was a moment of silence. Keats stood still with a stony faced expression, arms folded. His body language screamed defensive. Yet, underneath this mask, it was almost as if he were grinning wryly, like he was proud that Atlas was being so inquisitive.

Suddenly, a voice called out from the chamber doorway, and the atmosphere between them dissipated.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way into the council chamber for the briefing.”

Keats sighed, adjusting his glasses by the rim.

“It looks like your search for answers will have to wait for now. The Council are about to start..”

With that, the big man turned and walked with the crowds of men and women towards the council chamber, leaving Atlas trailing behind on his coat-tails.

I'll get my answers, Keats. Don't you worry about that.

The robed lord did not chuckle nor did he sigh as he placed the two disused scrolls by his sandaled feet before knocking them slightly with his heal to guide them underneath his throne like chair. Sitting back up he then carelessly chucked the third scroll down to Nius, who caught and immediately began to unravel the scroll before Gnarl.

“You are here by ordered…” Nius paused for a moment as he cleared his throat. “…To travel by portal to land far from here, a land known as Althanas. You will accompany and protect the people on route to find and retrieve the Pillar of Osiris.

Your life as of the moment you undertake this order, is forfeit to their lives. You must protect them at all costs. Failure to do so will mean your immediate death, but success in this mission will mean you’re…Freedom.”

Nius looked sceptically to his superior, the mere fact that freedom could be offered for such a task seemed to violate exactly what they were trying to achieve here. Yet he did not dare speak out as he looked back at Gnarl before grunting with displeasure at the order.

Gnarl’s heart raced nervously; did he truly mean freedom from this place? Had Root pulled some strings to get him released? How fortunate that such an offer would come his way on such a day. Something was not right, but the man sat before him bore no face of which he could try to understand. There was nothing but an emotionless booming voice that remained as monotone as when it had first started.

Gripping his arms and dipping his head Gnarl was forced down, the surrounding guards to powerful to resist. Gnarl glared around, and yet could only stare at the feet of the men holding him down on his knees. Then, falling into eyesight a small metallic necklace with a green stone encased within it, the cleanest looking stone he had ever witnessed with an unblemished metal lace that linked it all together. Slowly it swayed down before his eyes as it floated past his face before being fastened around his neck.

Gnarl listened to the clink as the lock clicked together. “What is dis? He asked as they let him go and stepped back again.

“This is your ball and chain, it allows me to ensure I always know where you are, and should you attempt to remove it…There are consequences…Vagabond.”

Gnarl lifted it lightly, inspecting its surface as he rubbed his thumb over its smooth surface, yet nothing but a slight reflection of the sun light glinted off it.

“What is the Pillar of Osisisisisris. “He blurted out as he sniffed the bland stone.

“Up!” Nius ordered, as Gnarl slowly returned to his feet, his curious eyes still shifting from Nius to the hooded man and then to random locations around the room.

“What the Pillar is and what it is for is none of your concern. Follow your orders, complete your task, and you will no longer dwell in our lonely prison. Now leave, my guards will escort you to your destination. Further orders will be given to you by the appropriate superior.”

Gnarl neither snarled nor smiled an almost emotionless response and yet he did feel confused, unsure of how he should really be acting when placed in such a position. Quickly he was shifted towards another door on the opposite side of the room, the two guards who had forced the necklace on him following closely as they ushered him towards the door. A few more disapproving looks came his way, and the sharp blades of the halberds were not far behind.

Was it such a displeasing choice? Even if it was the robed man had made the wrong decision no one would question it verbally, not without consequences. Gnarl continued to stare down at the stone, its green hue almost glowing as it hung from his neck. He pondered to what powers it really had and what could happen should he remove it; a flurry of fearsome thoughts rushed through his mind and his posture tensed. It was only then he realised, since the offer of freedom became available to him, he had been too excited to stop and understand exactly what it meant to be free.

He would be free from the chains: free from the same four walls and free from his isolation, but he wouldn't really be free, he could never be free from his past. The memories of what he had lost to be where he was today. He had no family to return to, no wife or children, no friends and colleagues waiting to greet him, he would have to face the realisation that he was just as alone outside of the prison as he was within it.

"Gnarl...Sweety!" Her soft voice called out.

"I am not sweet, I am ferocious warrior." Gnarl replied pushing out his chest as he stood tall.

"You do not need to be all man to me...I love your sweet side. Strong when you need to be, soft when you can be." She smiled with the beautiful pink lips he remembered, then looked up to meet his gaze with the beautiful brown eyes he fell in love with.

Brushing away her hair to reveal her face she stood up to meet him face to face, and Gnarl smiled with appreciation. "Melhila, I miss you..."

He reached out to touch her soft skin, he had missed it for so long, and he needed to feel her touch once again.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" The rough looking man bellowed out angrily. "If he touches me I'm gonna kill him!"

Gnarl froze, his gaze confused and surprised, had he dozed off? Was it a memory or a wishful dream? He leaned back away from him, before stepping to one side to get some distance between the two. It was only then he looked around at where he was, a new place, a large room, but how far had he walked? Sometimes he scared himself, how long had his mind wandered for him to walk into this room?

The room, rather busy was another marble constructed room, large pillars that stretched high above, similar in fashion but not on the same scale of where he had just been. The most prominent feature of the room was a grand fountain that sat beautifully in the center; the lavish style and expensive materials used to make it nothing short of the best. Yet little focus lay on the room’s decoration as the room bustled with chatter and discussion of future outings and plans for an adventure. Which one would be option three as he knew it? So many questions, so little time to find answers.

"The briefing will start in a few minutes, ladies and gentlemen." A somewhat posh voice called out.

Gnarl rather skittish as he returned to the reality around him, began touching the pillar nearest to him, his dry hands enjoying the cool temperature of the marble stone.

"This guy’s fucking nuts, why is he stroking the pillar?" The angry man questioned to the guards.

Yet he was only met by a strong and forceful strike to his back and a displeased glare; the guard's quiet demand enough to silence him from anymore comments. It quickly became clear that they were the only ones surrounded by guards, the rest of the room, somewhat better dressed and more relaxed as they prepared for the final call.

Gnarl couldn't shake the continuous frown the man he almost touched gave him, locking onto him as he stepped left or right, the unforgiving male was not going to forget their encounter any time soon. Scruffy looking, he was visibly the worse dressed man in the room, his greasy long black hair and rough beard only made him more intimidating, but unarmed and under guard with Gnarl and a strangely silent woman he couldn't do anything.

Wearing old bulky clothes with worn boots, he made Gnarl look well dressed, and the woman who leaned quietly against a Pillar fiddled with her long blonde hair. She confidently smiled as they made eye contact but rather arrogantly looked away and into the crowd of people. They all needed a wash, but at least Gnarl and the woman looked presentable amongst the room.

Gnarl peered over to the fountain, the fresh water more appealing as he felt dirty, but now was not the time, and even more so as the same voice that called out earlier made itself clear once more.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please make your way into the council chamber for the briefing."

Nius had remained back within his lord’s hallway; his displeasure had been noted from his earlier reaction to the scrolls orders. He hobbled slowly back to the base of the stairs, and then kneeled before the robed man.

"Do you question the lord’s word and law?"

"No sire." Nius answered nervously.

"I would hope not Nius, as I took note of you scepticism earlier. Should I take that as a distrust in the lord’s word, I would punish you."

"I will not doubt in your or our lords word sire, but I only voice my concern at the faith and good grace at which they are given their freedom. All three of them deserve to die by our laws, instead they have been sent through the portal to their release."

"Then let me assure you of your concerns...The only freedom for them at the end of their journey is death. Our lord would never actually let them free, the Pillar of Osiris is the only goal our lord holds an interest in. The rest are merely there to save us from wasting people of actual importance, use the waste to save on expense. I like to call it using all of your assets."

Nius stood up impressed with the foresight of the lord; he should never have doubted him, not even for a second.

The crescent shaped auditorium was as beautiful as the adjoining waiting chamber which Revaan had just left, and he found himself once again admiring the work of the vast swathes of Telgradian architects that had poured quite admirable, and equal, amounts of complexity and luxury into the design of this building.

From the back of the queue, just having stepped through the doorway, Atlas was able to peer down into the vast chamber and survey it all. Gleaming white marble steps, polished to a dazzle, fanned out from an oval shaped marble well in the centre where the Telgradian Council’s deliberators sat, rising up into three separate tiers of ten rows until they reached the lip of a gold-trimmed gantry. Large, imposing pillars chiselled from glimmering Frach rose from floor to roof at regular intervals, each one sporting a unique carving of a Telgradian beast or warrior at their summit. The ceiling of the auditorium consisted of majestic mosaics of assorted deities, lavish in colour and oozing exuberance, staples of a proud culture.

Atlas and Keats formed part of the steady stream of dignitaries that poured into the chamber, and soon there was a river of colour flowing over the steps. A lot of the people attending, as expected, were wearing various versions of ceremonial dress reserved for high ranking officers and figureheads. There was a small section though, of about thirty to forty men strong, already seated at the front of the room on the first tier under what looked to be armed guard. Their clothes were very basic, not exactly the sort usually seen at a Council briefing, and a lot of the men had postures that looked extremely out of the ordinary for diplomats or officers

Revaan cast an eye over the small section and tapped Keats on the shoulder, gesturing a thumb to the ragtag gathering in the corner.

“Who are they? They look like prisoners.”

Keats nodded. “From Kokushi, albeit a different section to the one you were in. I would guess third or fourth level.”

Atlas looked puzzled. “How can you tell that from here?”

Keats smiled. “Simple. Look at their bodies: most of them look of fine frame. That means they are being allowed exercise, and in prison that’s all you really do. Their crimes have confined them to a private wing, as they are considered too dangerous to mix with the normal inmate populace, but they still have their routines. Past the fifth tier, no-one goes outside of their cell.”

Atlas looked down as he began his descent down the stairwell to his assigned tier, being careful not to stumble in the crowd.

“What level was I on?”

“Seven.” Keats responded bluntly. “The lowest. If you hadn’t of been in a coma we wouldn’t of been able to heal you. The seventh level is designed to damage any living thing to within an inch of it’s life, and then heal it again so that the process can repeat. The ultimate punishment, really. The healing properties there have to be powerful to return the prisoner to a healthy state, which is why they sent you there. ”

Atlas and Keats veered left out of the crowd and filtered down their assigned aisle. As they did, a heavy set man stepped from the crowd, and approached Keats, shaking his hand. His kind, weary eyes and balding appearance, along with a spanking Telgradian command uniform, told Atlas this was no ordinary dignitary.

“General Jolee, good to see you.” Keats smiled and firmly reciprocated the handshake.

“You too, Jaeger. Can I have a word in private?”

“Of course sir.”

Atlas stepped away from the two and took his seat. Meanwhile, Jolee and Keats merged with the crowd and then split off into a covered section of the chamber, a passageway leading to the Council chambers. They stopped as soon as they reached the mouth of the passageway. Jolee turned to face Keats, his brow furrowing slightly. His pleasant and outgoing demeanour had changed rather abruptly.

“I’ve been told you volunteered for this mission, correct?”

“Sir, on Councillor Ra's recommendation, sir.”

“May I ask your reasons? It is highly unusual and, if I may say, slightly out of character for a member of the Royal Guard to take such a heavy interest in Council affairs, even with a recommendation from a Councilor. Although, a recommendation from Ra doesn't equate to much standing at all, given that we are the high council.”

Keats looked quite taken aback. He stood slightly to attention, fixing his gaze ahead.

“Sir. I and Flex- Councillor Ra - feel that the nature of the mission requires a more, shall we say… experienced hand… to deal with all the sensitivities of our venture. For one, we have a dangerous convict guard to escort. Secondly, the Pillar of Osiris is a dangerous item indeed. Should the Pillar overwhelm Atlas, I…”

Jolee raised a hand obstructively. “…that won’t be necessary. We have a number of good officers who can handle this excursion and it is outside of Royal Guard jurisdiction, even if you are a volunteer. We need you at your post, Keats. One thing though; it surprises me that you knew a convict guard would be escorting the main party, as these details were not supposed to be supplied to anybody until the briefing. How did you come about this information, exactly?”

Keats looked bemused for a moment, and then hid it.

“With respect, sir, I have eyes. The waiting chamber was full of diplomats and officers. The small merry band of convicts you freed from Kokushi stood out a bit from the aristocracy. I think the appropriate phrase is: you can’t polish a turd.”

Jolee sighed and nodded.

“Yes, well…they are expendable, and they will be fighting for their freedom. His Majesty knows that a desperate man fighting for his freedom is far more formidable than a comfortable man fighting for his pay.”

Keats nodded slowly in agreement, although there was a slight agitation about it.

“Anyway, back to my original point. Keats” Jolee continued. “I can’t let you go on this mission. I have too many officers idle and we can’t afford for His Majesty to be without one of his top officers for any length of time.”

Keats clenched his fists behind his back, grinding his teeth slightly. He peered over his gold rims, a fierce look etched onto his face. Then, as quick as lightning, he stood to attention, clipping his heels together in the customary manner, and the anger was hidden again.

“Yes sir. I shall return to my assigned post. One thing though, sir, if I may. Can I at least escort Revaan as far as the portal when the time comes? I am his assigned bodyguard, after all, and even though it's mostly ceremonial, I wish to see my task out."

"Permission granted, Keats." Jolee saluted back. "But then you return, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

---

Telgradian barracks, 02:00hrs

---

“They’ve booted me off the mission. Outside of my jurisdiction! Cheeky bastard. I was recommended by a Councillor!”

For some reason, Atlas felt a wave of relief sweep over him on hearing the words. He had been suspicious of Keats since they met. His behaviour and mannerisms were odd, and it set his teeth on edge almost every time they talked. He would just be grateful for a normal officer, with no agenda, and a hurdle-free mission. Maybe then, when he got back, he could return to rebuilding his life.

My life…What life?

That was a subject to which he had paid very little attention at all since his release from Kokushi. Before all of this, Atlas had a life. There were probably people he cared about, people who cared about him. Maybe he had a wife, or a child? Friends? No-one from either the council or the army had bothered to fill him in on anything. Perhaps he was making too much of it, and for now everyone wanted to keep him focused on one thing so he could be eased back into society when the task was complete? Or perhaps there was something more sinister behind it. After all, it was very odd that a man with no memory was being relied on to undertake such an important mission.

Then again, Councillor Flexton did explain that I was once a revered General. Having a fresh body may help against the corrupting effects of the Pillar. That makes sense...

Atlas figured there probably wasn’t a lot of point mulling everything over and over again, for fear of losing his sanity. All that mattered was that Keats, one of his bigger doubts, was off the mission. He didn’t understand the connection Keats was trying to make with him in their first encounter. He didn’t get a lot about the man at all, in fact. The only thing that mattered is that he was no longer there to bother him, which meant he could get this mission completed with minimal fuss.

In his assigned bunk at last, free from the noise of the auditorium, he was able to think more clearly upon the details of his mission to Althanas.

“A party lead by Atlas Revaan will use a portal to infiltrate Althanas. There, they will seek clues as to the whereabouts of the Pillar of Osiris. The party will consist of Atlas Revaan, Captain Iziz of the 1st division, Captain Mott of the 13th division, and an assigned convict guard from Kokushi that will be used to protect our forces. The Pillar of Osiris must be obtained and returned to Telgradia at any cost.”

As the last flickers of a dying flame lit the cold, barely furnished room, Atlas rolled over on his bed and looked through an open window at the glowing white crescent of the moon. The next time daylight struck, after all of his preparation, he would finally be ready to journey to Althanas.

The loud clink of the locking shackles was depressing, after finally walking free from his cell, he was already cuffed and forced to sit in a chair with a line of corresponding prisoners. Gnarl sighed as he slumped in his chair, the hard wood as uncomfortable as the stone floor in his cell. He sat in line; squeezed into a row of inmates that sat shoulder to shoulder as they all watched the same boring mission objective speech.

Not one of them cared, nor fully understood why they of all people had to be in there in the first place. Surely their masters would update them on what they needed to know, instead of being forced to endure this. It felt like punishment, especially as the monotone noble spoke with little to no charisma in his wording. He just stood there, still as rock, but dressed in an upmarket plumb little outfit, stripy and cleaner than a blade just forged from the smoulder.

“…This is where we expect our treasure to be…” He continued.

“Urgh…” Gnarl slumped even further till the pull on his cufflinks tightened to the tug of his seating partner. The same silent woman was yet to speak in his presence, and still she needn’t as she tugged the chain to urge him back up his chair. The man sat on his opposite side slumped almost as much as he did, but his were eyes firmly closed with his nose twitching as if about to snore.

“…to be dropped right here, which on reflection should….”

Sleeping seemed like the right idea, as only a few of them; including the silent female continued to pay attention. Gnarl closed his eyes, the mumbling of the narrator the only thing stopping him from actually falling asleep. What a slow perpetual punishment this was, where was the end?

Then, another big tug shook down the chain and Gnarl sat forward with haste. Was he slumping again? The angry preying eyes of the blonde woman stared down at him from her standing position, and Gnarl quickly returning to his feet realised that the meeting had ended, for them at least. The couple of rows before him had already emptied and now his row was lining up to leave. Evidently, he has nodded off but for how long would remain a mystery to him and his sleeping compatriot who needed another big tug to disturb, yet he barely moved as he let out a loud snore.

Gnarl looked across at the next man who looked back bemused. “Get up you fat sac of crap…” He almost shouted it as he gave a swift boot to the dozing man’s leg. He stirred as his awakening eyes looked to his aggressor, his frown masked by tiredness slowly seeped through to a tense infuriated stare. Standing upright, he towered over the other man, a bulking mass of muscles and meat. Gnarl swiftly turned away to face the front, while the now startled man fell silent as a metaphorical droplet of sweat ran down his forehead as he regretted kicking the beast of a man.

“Get moving!” An impatient guard shouted to them. The group began to move, the smaller man feeling fortunate as the bull before him flexed his cheeks at him in a strange display of anger before turning and moving on as instructed.

Once moving they were led out of the room rather quickly, heading back out another door from the lobby, and then down a new corridor that neither Gnarl of the others had seen before. The same marble flooring and tall white painted wall’s that looked as if a fly daren’t go near them; pure perfection. It wasn’t too long a journey and before they knew it they were led into a large quarter, lines of beds made with decent quality wood and mattresses, and a beautiful bright bathroom in the corner of the room. This was a treat, the best treat before their journey; like a final request before an execution.

Most charged into the room as the guard by the door released them from their locks, but Gnarl upon his release took it slow, his larger prison partner soon shoulder barging past him to a bed. It had been so long since he had lay upon an actual mattress, he stopped by the bedside to admire it, slowly pressing down on its soft springy exterior as if to savour the moment. It was the softest thing he had touched since his arrival here; oh how he missed such a simple but satisfying experience.

Finally wasting no more time he jumped onto the bed, laying down to allow the quilt to caress his back, the pillow to massage her head and neck, and the mattress to shape to his weight. He didn't need anything else, not while he had this, at least for a moment he felt like royalty.

After the initial excitement from the prisoners, it soon fell silent the peaceful nature for the first time not forced upon them by the guards. He glanced around the room; it felt too good to be true, not a whimper, not a complaint, was this really their final meal before they all died?

The peace lasted for some time and the sky dimmed as it darkened to night, the guard patrols fell lax outside the door, now only passing by on occasion, but the truth was, regardless of how pretty the room looked, or how comfortable the bed was, the door was still iron barred and sealed shut with a heavy bolt lock. It was no surprise no one checked in on them, they didn’t care if they killed each other or tried to escape, this was nothing more than a pretty looking prison before they were sent to their deaths.

"You...Crazy guy..." She finally spoke through her dry lips, a little rough, slightly deep, but a sort of sexy tone that couldn't help but catch Gnarl's attention. "I hope you're gonna join in?"

The same first prisoner he had almost stroked before the briefing confronted him, his back towards the door, and his voice almost at a whisper. "There's no chance were coming back after this. Once were clear of this castle, when were no longer under siege here, when those guards are weak and low in number..." He peered back over his shoulder in a cautious manner before looking back to Gnarl. "Were gonna kill them all...So don't fucking stroke them, and you might just survive."

Casually he moved on to another to spread the word. Gnarl sat up as he walked away, the man still sneering slightly as he resented their earlier contact.

“What’s your name?” She asked with a curiously raised eyebrow. “You’re in right?”

Gnarl smiled as he looked back at her. “Of course I’m in.” He replied nonchalantly, even though he knew there was no other answer to give. He had no intention of being their enemy too.

“Look…” She wandered over and knelt by his bed. “Not everyone in here is smart enough to escape alive. Let’s be honest, most are either too stupid, or are no good with a sword in battle. It will take a bit of both, and I’ll need your help to get out of here.”

Gnarl immediately felt suspicious, the room now full of whispers as they formed their little groups, looking for the strongest to help them, or simply an ally to help them survive.

“Why do you ask me?” He questioned, curious to her motive’s and why she would approach him over anyone else.

“Well…” She leant in to his ear. “This act of yours, this craziness, I find it amusing. More importantly, I think it’s clever, and these guys, big and full of balls, but no brains. Those of us smart enough, we do go a little crazy within these walls. Maybe we have more in common than you think.”

“I see, and what do you know that they don’t?”

“These necklaces…” She held up an identical green hued gem from her bust. “We find out which guard is carrying the switch. The one that we are all linked to, the switch that he flicks to kill us all, it needs to be stopped. We find him, we kill him, and we get free. I know who has the switch...”

Brilliant orange poured out of the morning sun and across the horizon. The sky was blood red, and the furrowed clouds were every shade from palest pink to deep crimson. All of this over a Frach-carved city like Garah was a truly beautiful sight to behold.

Atlas watched the daybreak from his dormitory window, following the motions of a small flock of birds that danced upon the morning light. Every now and then they would climb steeply to meet the rising dome of the sun, before banking sharply and diving back towards the mountain ranges again. He wondered, as he watched the birds in motion, whether everything would be alright. Would they be able to find the Pillar? If they did, would he be able to bring it back without incident? What of the ragtag convict guard sent to escort him, would they earn their freedom?

He sighed, and turned away from the sill as the flock performed their coup de grace, an upward loop and a final dive into the treelines. In his room hung a set of clothes on a single iron hanger, and he walked across the cold floor towards them, curious. They had been there for a number of days but he hadn’t paid them any heed, until now.

The clothes and personal effects of General Atlas Revaan of His Majesty’s Royal Brigade.

It was a small and almost illegible label that was tied to a coat, but he recognised the handwriting as his own.

“Let’s see here…”

Article by article, Atlas lay the clothing down on the bed. The first piece was a standard black undershirt and pants, nothing particularly fancy. The next items were slightly more glitzy; a white greatcoat with silver runes embroidered into the sleeves, all the way up to the shoulders and along the back of the collar. A silver sash was tied around and through the belt loop on the coat, which had silver buttons dotted up the front. Finally, there seemed to be a pair of gloves; made from silk, coloured white and finished around the cuffs with a simple gold trim.

It was indeed an elegant uniform, although not a General’s standard uniform by any stretch. It was customised to very unique tastes, so much so that only a General with high standing would have the authority to wear such attire in the line of duty.

If I die, at least I’ll look good.

Atlas pulled on the pants and the undershirt, before threading his arms through the sleeves of the coat. He tied the sash around the waist, and laced his boots, before finally pulling on the gloves. He stood, dressed at last, in front of a body length mirror.

“Off to the ball?”

The voice startled him. Atlas spun to meet Captain Iziz standing in his doorway, one of the escorts for this mission. He was a short, built man with a gruff voice and a face full of stubble shadow who looked a little bit angry all the time, but Atlas had heard that he was a tenacious fighter and a loyal soldier, and that was all that mattered. He saluted accordingly, which Iziz reciprocated.

“If this is a ball, start me off on a slow song.”

“No time for that, General. It’s time to go.”

Atlas looked bemused. “So, I’m a General now? I’ll be happy to claim the pay if they are offering me a proper commission.”

Iziz turned his head a little. “I fought with you when we stopped the separatists at Gaus VII. To me, you’ll never be anything but the General, sir. I was caught on the wrong flank and trying to fight my way through to a key position when some little bugger tried to spay me with a spear. You took him clean out, sir. A second later and I would have been dead. I’ll make sure you are well looked after on this journey, sir.”

Atlas felt a little touched. He had no memory of Gaus VII, but the emotion that Iziz was trying to keep buried beneath his rough, manly exterior was enough to convince him he had made a difference to someone, even if it were only this one man. He hoped, for Telgradia’s sake, he could do even more for so many others.

“I do have one concern though, sir. Can you fight, sir?”

Iziz's question knocked him off guard. Atlas paused for a moment, looking down at the floor and stroking his chin.

What does he mean "Can I fight?" Of course I -

"It's just that, sir, with the greatest respect...you've been asleep for a long time. There are going to be a lot of men out there to protect you, but between the convict guard and the people responsible for the theft of the Pillar we have the potential for a nightmare if it all goes wrong. We don't know what's on the other side of that portal, waiting for us. I heard about what happened with Keats at the proving grounds...it goes no further than us, though."

Atlas stared at Iziz in disbelief. Why was he now having his abilities called into question?

"Listen Iziz. Firstly, Keats used a level forty Dakuatsu with a full incantation and I walked away from it. I admit, I am a little rusty with my own, but I've had a few days to train with what I know and I'm satisfied I can do a job out there. Secondly..."

Iziz bowed his head a little, and waved an apologetic hand before Atlas finished.

"I'm sorry, sir, I meant no offence. You don't have to explain. We're all quite nervous about this, there's a lot that doesn't add up. The Pillar's last known location was a small garrison on an island called Corone. We don't know what's there but we think that whoever stole the Pillar wasn't working alone, and we could be walking right into a trap."

Atlas nodded.

"I expect so. But, again, I have to reassure you Iziz...I'll be fine. You won't have to babysit me on this."

---

Telgradian Gateway

---

The room that contained the portal to Althanas was gargantuan. It resembled an old monastery, with cylindrical limestone pillars connecting the moss covered granite floors with beige archways that stooped up into the rafters, and sunk low into the aisles. Everywhere in the room there were random piles of debris that had fallen from the crumbling roof, except for the gleaming white pedestal which contained the gateway to Althanas.

The pedestal itself was hexagonal, carved from the best marble and engraved with many golden and silver symbols and runes, most of which were unintelligible to modern day Telgradians. Four stone claws curved up and in towards a glowing ball of marine blue light that pulsed and hummed above a metal rim.

Atlas stood at the head of a column of men. The first section contained his officers, Iziz and Mott, and a couple of guards from Kokushi that had been requisitioned for the mission. Behind these were the convict guard assigned by the Council. Atlas looked upon them, and saw many things. Desperation. Ferocity. Fear. Insanity. On some of their faces, he saw hope. On others, he saw despair.

Each of them was a life. Each of them once had something other than the barren, desolate future of Kokushi. Hopefully, they would all come back alive to atone for their sins and live again as free men.

Hopefully, they would choose not to rebel at the first opportunity.

He stood for a moment, and paused for thought. Then, Atlas decided to address his men, and especially the convict guard patrol attached to him.

“We’re going to a place called Althanas to get Osiris’s Pillar. For a lot of you, it will be completely alien. Some of you have spent many years in Kokushi. Some of you have indeed been there your whole lives. This place will be dangerous. There is a good chance we will have to take our objective by force, and I promise each and every one of you now: if you fight hard when it is asked of you, and are loyal to your brothers and sisters amongst you and my men, you will walk free amongst the citizens of Telgradia again with your pride restored. I am Atlas Revaan, and I do not lie to any of you, For our honour, our dignity and our respect…we go forth.”

There was no cheer, or rallying cry, or clashing of shields. There was no need for that here. All there was in the room was anticipation and fear of what was to come.

Revaan felt a tingling in his arm. Iziz behind him strapped on his helmet, tightening the chinstrap to maximum until he had a second fold of skin. Each of the convicts looked a little nervous, like the queue for the gallows on an execution. Whatever anyone felt like now, or whatever reservations anyone had about going, it no longer mattered. The time was here.

Atlas approached the portal slowly, walking tentatively up the marble steps and into the grasp of the iron claw. Electric sparks of blue lashed out from the pulsing sphere and whipped his cheeks, stinging like hailstones in winter. As he penetrated through the marine blue membrane of the portal, his ears popped and everything sounded as if it were being heard from underwater, so he quickly shut his eyes instinctively.

When Atlas opened his eyes a moment later, they were struck by brilliant white, and he winced in pain. He could see Iziz and a huddle of men through the blinding light, wading through the viscous liquid membrane of the warp portal's interior.

Suddenly, there was a blast of cold air. A scent of soil, of grass and earth, of leaves, trees and foliage, then of dirt, gravel and stone.

They had arrived as planned.

Her name was Telana and she would have Gnarl talking for some time after everyone else had fallen to sleep; hours passed and whispered continued, she was fascinating and her blue eyes were unrelenting as they urged for eye contact. It was hard to break focus on her at all, beneath the dust and old clothes she was a beauty, and one that Gnarl appreciated the more they spoke.

Yet it was as if she was searching for something other than information on escaping, with various questions about him and what he had seen on this place they resided in. Who was she? Why was she the only female in the prison? And why out of everyone here were they the only ones talking? She claimed to be from a place far beyond that of Talgradia or Althanas, but she cleverly avoided the full question after suggested she was wrongly imprisoned for crimes her family committed rather than herself.

She could fool many a man with those eyes, they flickered just at the right time, and she averted her gaze with a swift change in topic whenever she required it. The nature of her posture was confident, maybe too confident and ever more so since the rest of the room had fallen asleep, snoring as time passed. She acted as if she trusted him and yet Gnarl felt she suspected her distrust, irrespective of how he played it, he would have be cautious, for everything that was happening and everything that was to happen was a bizarre twist of fate that just seemed too easy to be true.

By the time he fell asleep he had lost complete track of time. The morning bells were ringing, not the bell of church or tower, but a man stood by the doorway, rattling the small hand bell with a constant high pitch jingle that could have waken the dead. Gnarl struggled to move as the shuffling of bed sheets and clothes filled the room, he had fallen asleep on top of the covers without getting undressed, much like the majority except he hadn’t slept as long as he would have liked.

The irritant continued ringing his bell until the last of them sat up before he called for them to get ready as soon as possible. Gnarl placed his legs over the bedside and rubbed his tired eyes, he often didn’t need much sleep anyway but the soft mattress just invited him to relax and sleep some more. Looking up he noticed the somewhat sleepy gaze of the brute he disliked so much already, Telana called him Jurt, but it was questionable to whether it was really his real name.

There was simple too much uncertainty here to feel at ease but Gnarl, along with everyone else just carried on.

“Come on, line up!” The guard shouted as they queued up to leave their nightly home.

His stomach groaned, how long had it been since he last ate? He questioned it knowing full well it had been too long, but how was he supposed to fight on an empty stomach was beyond him.

“If you’re as hungry as me I feel for you.” Telana uttered as they stood up and wandered towards the queue.

Gradually they were led back down the corridor, past the marble lobby and into yet another large room that they hadn't seen before. The polished room again a higher quality of life that none of them were used to. Lengthy wooden tables that could seat at least twenty people stood before them with bowls and cups quickly filled them as the maids distributed the food evenly. The armed guard still seemed to lack, but as food and water presented itself for free, there were no uttering's of escape. Gnarl sat down and freshly cut slab of chicken, some bread with some vegetables sat on the plate before him, his stomach begged for him to start and yet he paused, hesitant to take a bite before those around him.

Everyone tucked in but there were no utensils, no knives or forks that could be stowed away at any point. The entire table rushed the food down as Gnarl watched his own chicken sitting patiently to be eaten along with everyone else's.

"Eat up." Jurt smirked from across the table as he ate his greens. "If they were gonna kill us, they wouldn't waste good food to poison us."

Gnarl didn't reply, but he agreed silently before finally picking up and taking a bite out of his chicken. Oh how much he enjoyed the taste as the juices filled his mouth with the unfortunate few droplets leaking from between his lips. It was hard to savour any taste as he swallowed immediately with his stomach getting carried away, but he loved it anyway as the flavour lingered in his mouth for a few moments. Breakfast didn't last that long at all, for it was the best breakfast any of them had experienced since their arrival here, a true meal to help raise the strength and fill the stomachs of the men before battle.

Telana smiled at Gnarl as he finished up; still nibbling on her bread she glanced up and then nodded to Gnarl. He looked up curiously, and above them lay the shrouded balcony of the upper floor, no torches or light seemed to reach the banisters there, but the slight glimpse of armoured men appeared around the room. As safe as they felt with the few guards stood around the rooms, it was slyly better guarded than it would appear. Crossbow men stood waiting, watching from above in case there was any hint of a mutiny from the feasting men, they could all keep eating, they would enjoy themselves while they could but the more Gnarl looked around the room, the more apparent that this was just the same as the sleeping quarters, a prison hidden beneath the beauty of a well-crafted and expensive building.

Gnarl placed his hand on Stoney, awaiting his comment, awaiting some sarcasm or advice for what to do. He wasn't going to be able to see Root while he was with all these people, but why was Stoney so quiet? His fingers rolled and flicked Stoney around in his pocket in an attempt to gain a response, but there was nothing but silence. Gnarl frowned, knowing his own companion at the moment was Telana, and he wasn't even sure he trusted her. She smiled with another flick of those beautiful eyes, her long eyelashes giving off some sexual prowess with each blink and Gnarl smiled back in a friendly manner.

Again a voice called out for their attention to leave the room, everything was happening so fast, and the few slow eaters quickly shoved what little food they had left on their plate into their mouths. They all moved along, back into single file as they were led out of the banquet hall and through yet another large doorway. They had little time to adjust to anything new, but maybe this was the plan to keep the in line, a few still half asleep, others rushing their food and those that were quick enough to keep up with everything, they weren't in any one place long enough to understand exactly where they were or where they were going.

Telana seemed to make an extra effort to get in line beside him, barging past a few men to ensure she stood in front of Gnarl in the queue. For all of their chatter last night she had been rather quiet once in front of everyone again and yet seemed to say enough with just those beautiful blue eyes. Gnarl gathered himself, he couldn't let himself be taken in by such a temptress, he had to concentrate to where he was going and what he had to do. The corridor he followed seemed rather short, and the line paused as it reached another large double door; currently remaining shut as one guard peeked inside while the others ensured everyone was in order. Gnarl had never been the most patient and stuck his head aside the line to see what was going on ahead; he could see nothing, just people, stone walls and more stone walls.

A small burnt out torch sat disused within a small alcove within the stone wall, the old decorations even left to rot slightly, this corridor was not of common use, which seemed bizarre considering the well-kept nature of the building in general. He tried to read the writing, only to be following the smooth stone down into the curvy shapely form of two sexy muscular bum cheeks, what great architecture this really was.

Gnarl snapped out of it and looked forward again, his mind wandering to the female form before him at the most inappropriate of times. Yet, thankfully for him she hadn't noticed a thing and even more fortunate the door holding them up, opened with a loud creak. The groups chatter raised as some excitement grew, slowly they were being let into the room, one at time as they were handed something upon entry. Gnarl couldn't see what it was but could see them disappearing down what appeared to be steps; now Gnarls mind really began ticking, where they being sent now?

It didn't take too long before he was next behind Telana, she stepped forward before having a sword thrust in one hand and a shield in another.

"Get down stairs and get in line with the others! NEXT!" The guard shouted bearing another weapon.

Gnarl stepped forward ready to receive his weapons as Telana disappeared down the stairwell without any hesitation. A small iron hand axe was pushed into his chest along with small buckler shield of decent quality.

"Get down stairs and get in line with the others! NEXT!" The guard shouted on repetition giving Gnarl no time to inspect his new weaponry.

Given a little push in his back he let his momentum carry himself down the stairs, the stone steps gradually changing from the clean cut and perfectly fitted build down to the old, worn and ancient stone which presented the large broad room before him.

They were definitely below ground, the old stone walls bearing the odd scar of missing bricks where earth and tree roots managed to sneak through. Moss covered various parts of the walls and even some water leaked in the corner, this huge room with its massive pillars and arching roof was a relic of past times. Yet it was not completely forgotten as the men piled in and lined up in their droves, all looked in to the center of the room to the one mighty item that remained unaffected by time.

A large white stoned pedestal, hexagonal from above and large enough for one squadron of men to stand upon it. Yet with its six sides, only four pillars raised up to before aching inwards without touching in the middle. Like a hand it appeared to grip its possession, a glowing sphere which flaunted its multitude of shades to the colour blue, whirling and rushing around like a stormy sea. Yet against the laws of gravity that Gnarl knew, the liquid sphere never splashed down to the floor, instead it swirled in position giving off a light humming sound.
Gnarl had never seen such a thing before, and how it was contained in such a manner was an incredible sight to behold. Was this the portal that they had been talking about? How did it work? Would it hurt? A million thoughts processed through his mind, but only two questions really mattered at this stage; what was awaiting them on the other side, life or Death? And why was Stoney so quiet?

They had arrived in the middle of a tree lined courtyard of what appeared to be some sort of fortress, likely the fortress that had been mentioned in the briefing as the last known location of the Pillar of Osiris.

Atlas, free from the disorientating effects of the portal, paced around the gravel area that now lay around him cautiously, each footstep accompanied by a loud crunch that made him cringe a little bit inside. Then, other crunching footsteps followed as more and more of his party spewed forth from Telgradia. For the moment, they were undetected, and his first objective was to continue that trend as long as possible, but Atlas knew it was only a matter of time before someone heard or saw them.

Behind them stood a ten foot tall arched stone gateway, with heavy iron doors that had been bolted shut from the inside. Surrounding them on either side were two storey sloped-slate roofed terraces, constructed from beige limestone. Their windows were arched and their canopies were covered in moss and lichen. Clay-pot chimneys protruded from the rooftops, puffing out clouds of white smoke that drifted away on a light breeze towards the fortification ahead of him. The main body of the fortress was vast. The first section was about eighty foot of pure limestone, without a single window or doorway between the foot of the building and the first of four circular spires, and imposed itself upon the rest of the buildings.

There was definitely someone home.

“Iziz, we’ve got trouble.” Atlas whispered to his right hand man, pointing towards the main keep’s largest tower.

At the very top of the building, a curved area with ramparts was visible, and atop these were armoured guards who now swarmed like ants onto the observatory to spy their uninvited guests. Most of them spent just enough time there to raise their heads over the stone parapet, before pointing and shouting at the Telgradians and then disappearing from view altogether.

“They know we're here, Atlas. Men!” Iziz shouted, unsheathing his sword from its leather scabbard by his side, raising it to the sky. “Make ready!”

Iziz’s command was like fire to a fuse. The column of forty or so men, including the convict guard, under Iziz’s command responded with drill-like discipline and formed a circle in the centre of the courtyard, their shields placed in front to form a defensive perimeter with their blades pointed out over the top. Atlas joined Iziz in the middle of the circle. Simultaneously, the doors to the terraces that flanked them flew open, and before long a whole garrison of troops poured through their barracks archways to form an outer circle to counteract Iziz’s defensive formation. They moved as one, a sea of green, as if there were just one brain instead of many. The right legs moved in unison and then the left legs. With each step the sound of the boots on the cold gravel was like the warning thunder of a coming storm. Each face was grim with determination.

“Stay calm, men! Steady!” Iziz commended from within the circle.

The stalemate continued as each soldier and convict refused to take their eye off of their opponent, waiting for the order to strike.

Then, suddenly, a single man stepped into the courtyard from the barracks.

He was an officer, judging by his uniform, and a young one at that. By his side he held a curved sabre with a glistening, polished blade, the sort that were used for ceremony only. His walk had a certain arrogant swagger to it, and beneath the visor of his wolfskin hat were a pair of cold, blue eyes and matted dark hair. He gestured towards the inner circle of men, and addressed Atlas with a sharp, icy tone.

“Clearly, it would be ridiculous for you to not lay down your arms and surrender under normal circumstances, being as outnumbered as you are. However, as you’ll soon come to appreciate, nothing that will happen here today will be classed as 'normal'. After all, it is not often we get such distinguished guests.”

“Shut up!” Atlas shouted. “Who in the hell are you?”

The man smiled thinly, his tightly drawn face screwing up into a smirk.

“I am Captain Elio Strong, and I presume you are Atlas Revaan. We were told you would be coming. I am attached to Colonel Keats of the Telgradian Royal Guard, and we garrison this fort.”

What?!

“You said you were attached to Keats?” Atlas enquired. “What the hell are the Telgradian Royal Guard and Keats doing having a private garrison on Althanas?”

Elio laughed, raising a clenched fist to his lips.

“My orders here are nothing to do with you, and I do not question them. If you are so curious, you can ask Colonel Keats himself when he gets here.”

What the fuck is going on?

Atlas clenched his teeth angrily. He didn’t understand what Elio was saying.

Why would Keats have any involvement with an Althanian garrison? Why would he be on his way here?

Elio shrugged. “The quiet type eh? Why don’t you put your weapons down, and we’ll take a peaceful walk into the holding cells where you can wait for the Colonel to arrive?”

Atlas and Iziz shook their heads. “We stay here. I’ll speak to Keats from here when he arrives.”

Elio looked visibly irritated. “You are wasting my time. Please do not underestimate me or my soldiers, because regardless of whose army you belong to, whether you wear the King’s colours or not, I won’t think twice about killing your men if you persist in this futile game.”

There was a pause, before an almighty crackle of electricity echoed around the courtyard, startling everyone. In front of the iron door, a blue sphere of energy manifested, burning a small crater into the gravel floor and charring the edges of the stone archway. Forks of lightning licked the limestone and smeared a burnt black residue over it as the orb grew bigger and stabilised into a portal similar to the one Atlas had just emerged from.

“Elio, you will do no such thing. Not yet, at least.”

A silhouette emerged from the portal. The man’s slick black hair, his eyes and golden spectacles were unmistakable.

“Keats…” Muttered Atlas, clenching his fists. “What the hell is going on here?”

Keats strode towards the outer circle of men under Elio’s command. As he exited the portal, his right arm seemed to be dragging something heavy behind it.

It was a corpse of a man. A Telgradian soldier, no less. His neatly buttoned shirt and white pipe clay crossbelt were smeared in fresh, thick blood. His stomach had been ripped out and all that remained of his belly was a gaping, bloodsoaked wound. There didn’t seem to be any lower limbs, just a trail of blood and the ends of entrails being dragged across the dirt. Keats stood two feet away from the outer circle, who parted and peeled away from their assigned ranks to clear a path, and unceremoniously dumped the bloodsoaked body at the feet of Iziz’s men. There was a thud, and crimson pooled out into the courtyard. Elio looked on, his wry smile still etched onto his wiry face.

Iziz looked horrified. His face contorted between shades of anger and astonishment.

“Atlas, that’s…”

"General Osho.” Keats interrupted.

Atlas was incensed. Osho had shown him every kindness since he awoke from Kokushi, and was a well respected General himself. To see him in such a state was infuriating and confusing. He gazed into the open, motionless eyes of the old man, wretching inside from the horrific mess in front of him. Osho’s face told a story of the manner of his death; it was twisted in agony, the very expression sickening to behold.

Revaan felt a lump of rage swell up in his parched throat, but could only manage a couple of words.

“Why?!” He roared, slamming his fists down by his sides. “What has happened here, Keats?! Why did this have to happen?!”

Keats remained still. He brought his hand up to his glasses, adjusted them by the rim, and smiled. Then, quickly, from underneath his greatcoat he pulled something, an artefact. It was some sort of multi faceted crystal, clear to the eyes, and it dazzled brilliantly in the morning sun. Within its centre, a glowing turquoise gas core pulsed like a heartbeat and hummed gently, sometimes expanding to touch the very edges of the crystal and other times retracting to the very centre in a very metronome fashion.

Even having never laid eyes on it before, Atlas knew in his heart what that crystal was, and what Keats holding it represented. The turquoise glow made him feel uneasy, lethargic and vulnerable, but he couldn’t help but stare into its core. Keats replaced the item back into an inner pocket, and folded his arms. Elio motioned for his troops to ready their weapons, and Iziz reacted a split second later, issuing the same command to his own men.

“You traitor…it was you all along. You stole the Pillar of Osiris. I don’t know why you did it, but look at you! It’s corrupted you!” Atlas seethed at Keats, who just stood there, unfazed.

“Atlas Revaan, we are all here for one reason, and one reason alone.” Keats responded coldly, gesturing towards his Telgradian counterpart. Atlas clenched his fists, preparing his Dakuatsu for use at the first opportunity. Iziz stood up straight, his blade readied.

"No, not Atlas Revaan." Keats corrected himself, taking his time. "Atlas Revaan was just a puppet of the Telgradian Monarchy, an invention to hide the inconvenient truth. Allow me to address you by your real name...Shinsou Vaan Osiris."

It all seemed to happen so fast, the main squadron of men marched onto the platform while the prisoner unit witnesses from behind the second unit of Talgradian infantry. It seemed bizarre that no one else was afraid of what stood before them, or if they were, it did not show upon their brave faces. Gnarl on the other hand was afraid of what was going to happen, what would happen to him? What did he have to do?

Then, the swirling mass of liquid moved, spinning around faster and faster before expanding itself steadily until it engulfed the entire first squadron of men stood upon the pedestal. The white stone platform and the armoured men quickly disappeared from sight, not even a blur through the murky water remained, as if they had disappeared in the mass of blue water. Gnarl felt himself panic inside, his eye's erratic as he searched for a response from the others around him, even taking a step back, yet only to bump into the man behind him.

It was only then he could see that he wasn't the only one disturbed by this experience after all, and yet the armoured guards around them would let no one flee; ensuring everyone stayed within the room as the doors behind them all remained solidly shut. His breathing had heightened, his grip tensed on his axe as if to defend himself, but his legs pulsed with adrenalin as if ready to run. Then standing beside him as if it was all natural, as if she had seen it many times before, Telana just stood there, relaxed and unafraid of what was going on before her.

Gnarl paused to watch her, not a second of doubt or fear, she remained still awaiting for the sphere to expand once again; and it did. In one quick and swift expanse; like an explosion it fired out quicker than any man could run and engulfed the entire room. Gnarl held his breath as the fear of drowning came to mind, and yet no water hit his face as a bright light blurred his vision before dulling into a dark state. The various smells of earth filled his nose and as a strange tingling rattled his skin he felt weightless, if only for a moment before he felt his feet press against a hard gravelly surface.

Suddenly his eye's seemed to focus again, stone walls lay either side of him, but not from a room. The group looked around themselves, the confines of the ancient room were gone, the white platform they stood upon no longer here; they were in courtyard, behind a large locked iron gate. Were they exactly where they wanted to be?

Gnarl resisted the urge to drop to his knees, something few others avoided; with many throwing up and others just taking a moment to gather themselves. Gnarl was shocked, had they really travelled to another place? What magic was this? Not only was he standing in a new world, he was perfectly fine, no injuries or fatigue. In fact, he felt great as he slipped his buckler shield up his form arm and gripped his axe tightly in his right hand.

Being left with no time to admire his surroundings, they were pushed to one side, all leaning up against a large terrace of a stone building, ducking low out of sight, and keeping to the structures shadows away from the clear sunlight of day. The wind blew hard and the first evidence of living people floated overhead; smoke from the castles chimneys carrying with it the strong smell of cooking meat.

They all waited patiently, unsure of what exactly was happening up front with the leading officers, while the mighty castle tower ahead was unknowingly spying down on them as they waited.

Then, the sudden call from up front. "Men! Make ready!"

The armed force ushered everyone back into the center of the courtyard, quickly grouping and taking up a defensive position. Their shields raised and their swords and spears ready and protruding over the top. Gnarl like many others with the small close combat weapons held their position within the center of the group, kneeling just behind the shield wall that they had created. He felt blind, unable to see anything but the tops of the walls and buildings around them, and yet marching feet and shuffling armour was sounding out from around him; the battle was not far away.

"Shit, their all around us!" A panic stricken voice whispered within the group.

"Stay calm, men! Steady!" The commanding officer shouted again.

The men adjusted their defensive position again as the enemy appeared from all sides, they couldn't leave such a dangerous gap open; not if they wanted to survive this fight.

"Come on, they weren't supposed to know we were coming."

"What's going on? What treachery is this?"

Various comments whispered through the men, the nerves were showing, but their formation didn't break, it was too vital to go all lax right now. Gnarl and the others within the circle peered over to witness the enemy before them. They could clearly see the two captains arguing, calling to one another as they appeared to discuss their options.

It was unnerving having to sit and wait, what exactly were they expected to do, come to a solution that involved letting them go? They were outnumbered by initial appearances, and the uttered nervous words of surprise to their situation did not help; it was clear things were not going to plan.

"Alright." Gnarl got nudged hard by Jurt as he got his attention. "As soon as this kicks off, I'm killing Officer Iziz. With all the fighting, I'll be able to slit his throat in the chaos."

"This isn't the right time." Gnarl shook his head.

"It's definitely the right time." He replied with a glare.

"No it's not..." Telana interrupted. "Don't fuck this up for us."

A swift and forceful boot kicked Jurt over onto the floor. It was Captain Iziz, and he looked furious. "Get yourselves in order before we all die through your incompetence."

It was a reminder to them all, they had to time everything correctly, any wrong move could see them die, be it by the Talgradian Guard or the enemy. Gnarl knew it, Telana knew it, but Jurt was bigger and stupider and had no intention of listening to their advice. Lifting himself back to his crouched position, he picked up his dropped blade and looked over at them both.

"This is happening, he just sealed his fate."

With those final words Jurt wandered back across the circle to stand over the other side. His burly figure did look intimidating when one on one, and he was big and strong enough to take down the Officer; there was no doubt about it. However in all the chaos that was about to ensue, it would have to be a sneak attack, he wouldn't want to give him any time to defend himself, he hadn't become an officer because he couldn't use a sword.

The warm sun continued to bear down on them and Gnarl wiped the sweat off his forehead as he noticed Telana's eye's met his own, without a word Gnarl already knew what she was thinking. Because the truth was, he was thinking the exact same thing, they had to stop Jurt.

Gnarl mouthed his only question to her: how? Telana meanwhile didn't expect to go toe to toe with him, this had to be something clever, and seeing as Jurt had never really taken his eyes off Gnarl since they met, it would be too obvious coming from him.

"Leave this to me." She whispered before stepping away.

Now it was just one big waiting game, all their heads now remained ducked low awaiting for the shout to release them for battle. Gnarl had gone from eating a peaceful breakfast to bracing himself within a tense moment of potential death, all within what felt like a few moments. With the army behind the shield wall; the enemy surrounding them, Telana to his left and Jurt on his far right. It was anyone's guess who would make the first move but either way, blood was sure to flow.

“Bullshit.”

Keats, now revealed to the world, was the very epitome of a murderous, wretched creature. His voice, once smooth, was rough and raspy and when he spoke it was almost as if a demon had clambered into his shell and taken control of his vocal chords. His blood-soaked arms fell by his side, and he threw his head back and cackled at Atlas’s response.

“Predictable.” Keats said with bitterness in his voice. His tongue shifted restlessly in his graveyard of a mouth where his white teeth stood like scattered tombstones. “I know you won’t be one for telling, Shinsou. Oh, I know that I’ll have to show you before the day is done, before the blood of your men is spent, what you really are. Before that, though, let me ask you this; were you not once suspicious of the Council’s intentions? A man not five days out of Kokushi sent on a high profile venture to obtain a high value item, far beyond the remit of any normal Telgradian?”

Atlas stood silent. Keats nodded, lashing his tongue inside his mouth, slurping. “They needed you to get the Pillar, Shinsou. Only Shinsou Osiris can touch the Pillar, for his soul would rend asunder the flesh of another who touches it before he.”

“…Why?” Atlas queried, his arms crossed across his chest as he looked across the blood-soaked corpse with a dark glance. “…If what you say is true, Keats, then why are you able to hold the Pillar?”

“Have you not figured it out?” Keats cast a sharp glare in Atlas’s direction and spoke in a tone that said that he had neither the patience or the intention to explain further. But Atlas was unscathed by this tone, his eyes gleaming up at the man with a keen look that silently insisted on elaboration. Keats sighed deeply. “…So disappointing. I expected better of you.”

The righteous, uncaring tone stung Atlas, the irritation of not having his question answered growing within. “I asked you a fucking question, Keats!”

“NO! You, Atlas, didn’t ask me a question!” Keats screamed. “Atlas is a puppet, a soul-less doll, an empty shell! You don’t ask questions because you lack the inclination to be independent! As you are now, you are nothing more than a vessel for something far greater. You want answers?”

Keats’s tone was definite, abrasive, and filled with anger. “…I will show you your answers!”

There was a flicker of blue light where Keats’s crimson covered form was. Dust kicked up in a circle around the spot he stood, swirling into the air and dissipating along with his image, which cracked into a thousand tiny shards and disappeared with an eardrum shattering thud.

Everything in the courtyard stopped instantaneously.

Altlas felt a cold breath on the back of his neck, one that stank of tobacco and blood. It was Keats. He didn’t have time to think, to move, to flinch, to cry out, and the only thing he could do was stand helplessly as the sharp crystal point of the Pillar of Osiris slowly dipped into his back, producing a trickle of blood and a helpless whimper from the man.

”Here it is…a gift, from servant to master. The reason I am able to wield the Pillar, Shinsou, is because your will allowed me to do this!”

The raspy ancient sounding voice spoke with a bitterness of a psychotic murderer that lost all connection with reality a lifetime ago. It was a hissing voice of a snake that swivelled and rattled in the dirt just before it was about to strike.

Atlas felt a wretch in his stomach as the icy cold crystal edge of the Pillar filleted the flesh in his back, separating the skin from the bloody sinew underneath. Yet, even as he anticipated it, the pain never came. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the agony. It was a rush, a frenzy and behind him he could hear the courtyard becoming a melee, a maelstrom of confusion, a torrent of fear and panic. Blood poured copiously from his back. Still, the pain refused to come, and then all went black.

A shockwave of silver light erupted from the epicentre of his body as soon as the glowing blue core of the Pillar melded with his flesh. It kicked up a huge cloud of gravel and dust as the ring of light expanded and burst, adding to the confusion and the chaos of the skirmish between the occupants of the square.

Keats watched with glee a few metres away having retreated a little, wiping the fine grit from his eyes, the little grains of sand and dirt clinging to the blood on his arms. Finally, the moment had arrived, the moment he had been waiting for all these years. Many men lay dead around him, their eyes glazed and staring infinitely into the sky. Their bodies had quickly become stiff and unnatural, blood seeping slowly from nostrils and mouths and ears. As Keats stepped over them and on them, hurrying to get to the centre of the dirt cloud that had formed around Atlas, he wondered what he would find. The Pillar of Osiris had dissolved in his hand as soon as it had made contact with Atlas.

Could this be the moment?

The silhouette of the form that was once Atlas Revaan half knelt in the courtyard, resting his body upon a gloved fist that ground into the gravel. Keats wafted away the remnants of the dust cloud to get a clearer view. As he approached a stern voice, much different to Atlas’s soft tone, drifted from the epicentre of the chaos, between the crackling of electrical jolts that snapped at Keats’s arms on approach.

“…Jaeger Keats. It's been a while.”

Keats stopped immediately, recognising the voice and its mannerisms as someone familiar. He dropped to one knee, grinning, bowing his head as he went. The silhouette stood upright, and walked towards him through the now fading dirt cloud.

“You did well to get the Pillar out of Telgradia. For that, I congratulate you.”

“Thank you.” Keats replied.

This new entity stood feet away from Keats, and although he was the same man, there seemed to be something cloaking him in a dark, tainted aura. His brown hair was swept back, his gold eyes seemed permanently narrowed and every look he gave seemed to be sinister or cynical. A wry smile hung on the corner of his lips, and the whole of his body seemed to be swathed in a powerful, almost tangible arrogance that followed and cloaked him like a cape.

The Pillar of Osiris was gone, and in its place stood Shinsou Vaan Osiris, the Emperor of Telgradia reborn.

“Lord Osiris, we have been preparing for this moment for three long years.” Keats began. “Is it finally time? Have your memories returned?”

Shinsou stood for a moment, his eyes surveying the carnage of the ongoing battle ahead of him in the courtyard. There was so much fighting going on that very few people had stopped to try to understand what had just happened, their lives and fight for survival were a far more pressing concern. As Keats looked up, he caught the gaze of his Emperor, and recognised a little glimmer in his eye.

“The damage that the razing in Kokushi did to my soul remains to be seen, Jaeger. For now, I need you to take me to the Cartographer. I will explain more about the situation there.”

Keats nodded obediantly. “Yes, my Lord. At once.”

With that, the bloodied man spread his arms wide, and a thick, watery orb manifested between his outstretched limbs. It expanded, its membrane humming and pulsing as it pushed out, swallowing the two men whole. With a final screech, the portal momentarily flickered and then snapped shut, leaving only the small of burnt cobalt hanging in the air amongst the dead and dying, the living and the fighting.

The voices rose in tempo and temper as the conversation continued, now becoming more of a distraction than a concern, and yet their orders seemed to hinged on the result of it. Everybody else remained in silence, their defensive positions to be held under all circumstances, awaiting their commanding officers to instruct upon them their next move.

The enemy looked impervious, everything had fallen exactly how they desired, their position superior with their opponents outflanked and outnumbered and yet they remained in a stalemate, awaiting some sort of order or for the other to make the first move to begin the impending war.

Then, almost strangely the wind picked up, not just a gust or a shallow breeze but a gradual up lift in pace with a swirling motion. Shifting in an unnatural manner it disturbed the men of the battlefield, causing everyone to begin to move about with an uncertainty as the armoured circle of men altered from their instilled formation. Gnarl, being barged by the back stepping men shuffled across the floor awkwardly before rising to his feet.

The concern to what was happening behind him was as frustrating as it was worrying, but it was only as he stood back himself and looked up at the swirling mass of dirt and colour, appearing like a twister at first, but it lacked a spout as it seemed to accumulate everything into some sort or orb that by no means was natural.

Then, boom!

Gnarl attempted to cover his eyes as the orb exploded before him, flashing a bright light it didn’t appear to expel any fire and yet the force of it lifted not only himself but everyone within its vicinity off their feet. They all crashed into the ground in an awkward mess, but as bad as it felt in the moment, it was evidently much worse in the aftermath.

Gnarl sat up unscathed, the protective circle of armoured soldiers destroyed in an instant, but to his own fortune, it had protected him from the blast. Soldiers lay motionless in a heap of blood, sliced up with a multitude of cuts and wounds that sliced through their armour and lodged in their skin.

Moans of pain and grief lifted the silence and it became painfully clear that while the two arguing men had disappeared, their emphatic exit had started the battle better than any worded command. Gnarl looked around, lost in the moment he watched the resulting destruction before him, it was terrifying.

The enemies leading unit itself had been floored, now attempting to raise themselves back to their feet before the fresh layer of dead bodies which had become a new uncomfortable obstacle to navigate. They each appeared as shocked as Gnarl, had they been betrayed themselves by their own leader? It was a question they seemed to be asking themselves, the rambling nervous chatter becoming clear through the lifting haze of smoke and dust.

A tensed hand then gripped his shoulder; the somewhat injured Officer Iziz leaned into him as he steadied on his own feet. Gnarl glanced over his shoulder at him, holding his hip he hobbled forward to look at the injured enemy before them; in this moment, outnumbered or not, they had a chance to strike first.

“ATTACK!” He shouted at the top of his voice, the stunned unit still steadying itself. “Get up and take this moment!”

Hastily he helped pick up the slower more stunned men under his command, and then, as if they had not been injured themselves they charged forward towards the still stunned enemy squad that fronted the unit.

Metal clashed and sliced as the sound of battle finally filed the air, the Talgarian guard now fighting for their lives without the complete clarity of their own outcome should they win. Following up, the prisoners launched themselves into the fight, much less armoured then the guard, but armed and nimble. The counter attacking enemy came in from the rear only the meet the line of prisoners that awaited them, the dust in the air now settling to reveal the full scale of the war they were involved in.

Gnarl ducked under a long slow but powerful thrust of an attack, the much larger framed man throwing his weight into the piercing attack. Adjusting himself to one side, Gnarl parried away the man’s weapon with his buckler shield, while raising his right arm he hacked down his axe into the man’s neck.

His angry eye’s quickly lost their intensity, and as Gnarl prised the axe free, the eruption of blood flowed out and down his once shiny armour. Gnarls heart raced aggressively, not stopping to watch him fall do the floor he looked around ready for another attack; and it came quickly. This time a swordsman stepped forward, slicing across violently and yet he would also fall to Gnarl, who charged into close quarters, striking the man in the face with his shield, the large blunt object crashing into his nose and splitting the skin as it smashed into him. His vision obscured, Gnarl hacked down onto him, the armour doing its best to deflect but again he struck and it was only a moment before he dropped to his knees and fell limp.

Stepping back behind another soldier Gnarl took a moment, a front line had now begun to form before Iziz as he structured his main unit. Meanwhile the rest seemed disorganised, the prison guard ran free and combated where they saw fit as the rest of the Talgarian guard fought furiously but failed to find any structure beyond that of fighting on the same side. Then, hidden through the melee before him and slaying the few who had broken in through the defensive line, Telana remained fighting.

Her long hair occasionally flicking around and cover her face, she moved swiftly to avoid being hit. She may not have been as physically strong as those before her, but she could outwit and outpace them. Finally the last of the break in attackers had fallen and Telana dropped to her knees; she was exhausted after only a short battle and yet there was so much more to do.

She caught her breath and stood back up, the heavy shield beginning to hamper her more than it was protecting. Sliding it off her shoulder she dropped it to the floor, resting it up her leg as she carefully looked around for anyone else who had penetrated their position. Spending all her time in the cell had taking its toll, and her aching legs felt tired, if she could escape right now for a rest, she would have.

Just a short distance from her she could see Jurt pinning down an adversary, both gripping the same blade but with Jurt using his weight and size to push the blade down into his chest. It was a rather gruesome affair, and the squeals that left the man’s mouth were cringe worthy as his body shuddered before falling still. Telana never blinked, she had witnessed worse and experienced much more; this was nothing more than the familiar.

Jurt stood up, retrieving a different discarded sword from the dusty floor and immediately looked up towards Iziz. Telana’s heart began to pump away, the adrenalin flushing through her body as she anticipated his next move. Officer Iziz was facing away to the melee, using the men before him as a barrier; he limped around while throwing out orders and keeping his men organised. His dark hair astray, his clothes ripped, and a light but bloody wound just above his hip; he was in no real shape to fight, and it was clear Jurt saw this as an opportunity.

Telana reacted straight away, marching up behind him as he wandered across to the unaware Iziz; the potential murder weapon resting upon his shoulders as if relaxed about his very intentions.

"Spears, strike forward!" Iziz shouted violently, his instructions heeded over the loud clashing of metal and screaming men.

Only meters away Jurt could no longer hide his smirk as it appeared menacingly across his face. The generous offering of an easy kill had been presented to him, and he would take it eagerly. Then, just as he was about the strike the un-expecting officer a cold hand gripped his shoulder as he felt the long nails of a woman dig into his sweaty skin.

A sharp and intense pain shook him, his right side weakened but he resisted the urge to cry out in pain as he clenched his teeth. He peered back to see who grasped him, and Telana stood there, staring with no fear or intimidation towards him, and no remorse for what she was about to do. Holding even tighter onto her small knife, she no longer held the weapons she possessed earlier; and she pulled the blade out from his kidney with a slight twist. Then as he faltered in shock she stabbed him again over the same wound, then again and again as she repeatedly stabbed the knife into his right kidney in a ferocious and horrific manner.

The blood poured from his defenceless body, his right side destroyed into a gaping hole of blood and hanging skin; and so he dropped to his knees. Feeling the very life fall from him in such a way he had never imagined, this woman who had agreed to his plans before they left the prison beds had betrayed him.

She pulled his dark greasy hair away from his face and looked coldly down into his dying brown eyes, no hint of regret, no hint of enjoyment, just a empty stare that passed on a message.

"I don't blame you because you don't understand who I am...But don't ever endanger my plan..."

Then with one final strike, she drove the knife deep into the side of his neck. Listening to him gargle and spew blood from his gaping mouth; she wanted no reply, she just wanted him dead. Letting go of the knife she stepped back and let him join the rest of the dead; Iziz never need know how close he came to his end.

For a moment there was a quiet humming. As the vibrations reached a violent crescendo, Keats’s portal throbbed into existence, rending a turquoise, oval shaped gash in the atmosphere of the room. Out of the rip first stepped Keats, a determined expression on his face as he fought to keep the portal open, followed closely by Shinsou Osiris, who calmly strolled from the mouth of the pulsing blue membrane to the centre of the hall. He stood for a moment, surveying his new surroundings, and then turned to face Keats.

“It is just how I remember it. The Cartographer.”

The first thing that Keats remembered about this place was that there were no doors here. It was a place that can only be accessed by his magic. The ceiling of this magnificent hall must have been thirty feet high. Designs of intricate gold vines and flowers were carved into the white marble moulding along with rows upon rows of red spined books that had been painstakingly collected over many years and stored here in the heart of the fortress. Small, angel like beings looked down at them from every angle. Nearby intricate vases of blossoms gave off a cloying scent that made Keats’s eyes want to itch. In the centre of this grand place was a white, double stepped pedestal with what appeared to be a single granite sarcophagus laid atop it.

For a moment, Keats hadn’t absorbed Shinsou’s first words, but then they sank in.

“You’ve been here before? How?” He enquired, a quizzical look etched upon his face.” I thought you couldn’t come here without my magic?”

Shinsou looked unfazed. He swept a hand through his brown locks, and took a look around him. “This place existed long before you came into my service. I was always able to come and go as I pleased to Althanas, a world which always intrigued me, but to ensure The Cartographers survival in the event of my death or capture, I erased the enchantment required to open the portal to the room from my memory. Unfortunately, this has proven to be an unwise decision.”

“Why?” Keats asked, frowning.

Shinsou turned around. He paced slowly across the marble tiled floor, approaching Keats, who was stood just in front of the first step of the pedestal. The clicking of his heels upon the polished stone echoed like a gunshot around the hall.

“You know why.” He started, his tone suddenly becoming cold, his eyes sharpening like knives. “Surely you didn’t think that I wouldn't sense what your intentions were?”

Keats looked surprised.“…My intentions? You mean-?”

Shinsou stopped. He was only a few feet away from Keats now, and it was close enough for his right hand man to see something in his eyes, a soft anger perhaps. Keats swallowed hard.

“Yes. You intend to use me to revive Temperance.”

Keats sighed, his head dropping for a moment. He shrugged, and walked up the pedestal, running his hand on the smooth stone of the lid of the tomb atop it. Suddenly, the lid began to slide back, grinding against its ancient stone mechanisms. The opening revealed some sort of blood channel carved from a golden plate that led into a crystalline orb placed at the base of the sarcophagus.

“…Yes, it is true. I know that when you pour your blood into this artefact, the Pillar of Jalshey, the seal on Temperance’s temple will be broken. With our combined power and that of the Jalshey, we can topple Temperance and subjugate it to our every whim. With a power such as that at our disposal, think of the possibilities! Telgradia would fall at our feet in a matter of days. We would rule the entire realm!”

There were a few moments of silence. Keats shuffled around the tomb, and walked back down the steps of the pedestal to face Shinsou once more. If he had been expecting Shinsou to be impressed with him, he was sorely mistaken. The emperor of Telgradia reborn frowned, shaking his head.

“You are more dangerous and naive than I ever gave you credit for, Jaeger Keats, but I once thought as you do. I felt the call of the Jalshey separatists resonating from deep within that temple, begging me to awaken Temperance, to use it to hold Telgradia by its throat.”

Keats looked his emperor in the eyes once more. They were almost ablaze. He felt as if he had just started travelling a path that there was no return from, but he wasn’t to be deterred. Shinsou dipped his head, his tone deep and firm as he continued.

“Temperance…that being made from shadow and bone…it was raw power. Even as I stood surrounded by the tombs of the greatest, most evil Jalshey lords, staring into its eyes was like staring into the heart of evil itself. It corrupts the purest minds, bending them to its will, twisting the soul until not a shred of humanity remains.”

“Temperance has been asleep now for three years, feeding off of the life force of every living being on Telgradia’s surface, getting stronger. It will sleep another two, and once it awakens, it will consume Telgradia as it has tried to do so before.”

Keats scoffed, lashing a dismissive hand out.

“What do you care if Telgradia burns?” He questioned “You, yourself, wanted to destroy it at one time. Three years ago, you would have massacred the populace of Telgradia if it had served you some purpose!”

Shinsou nodded, but there was still anger in his voice.

“It is true what you say. What the greatest of the Jalshey warriors knew of evil, they no doubt learned from me. But what does it matter now? It is not who I am. Not anymore. And what do you think will happen once Temperance has razed Telgradia? That won’t be enough to satisfy its hunger. It will come here, to Althanas, and then to every realm it can reach after that. There will be nothing but a trail of dead worlds in its wake because you see, Jaeger, war itself is a hunger, and Temperance is a force whose hunger will never be satisfied.”

Shinsou suddenly turned on a sixpence, and marched towards the blood channel atop the pedestal purposefully. His white coat drifted behind him like a phantom as he went. Every step he took, every motion he made seemed to be brimming with a power that wasn’t present before his re-awakening, and now he seemed more resolved than ever to carry out his agenda.

“There is only one viable solution, and that is to obliterate it before it awakens, and that is the reason for all of this. Did you think it a co-incidence that everything that has happened has led us here?"

Keats shook his head, clenching his fists. He ground his teeth, seething at his master. He could not believe what he was hearing. All of the planning, all of the waiting…it was all for nothing.

“You betray us, Shinsou, and you betray the Jalshey who have awaited your return! Telgradia, like Althanas, brushes the edge of an empire, the empire that I have built in your absence, one that waits in the dark for your command. For too long, the Jalshey have been forgotten. They will soon be remembered. Before they are, before that day comes, Temperance must be used to carve the path we walk. You must see sense!"

As Keats’s final sentence reached his ears, Shinsou stopped dead. It was at that moment that the former emperor knew that their differences could no longer be reconciled. He had tried to show Keats the foolishness of his actions, he had tried explaining, without success, what horrors awaited him should he walk this path.

There was no talking to him anymore.

“The arrogance!” Shinsou erupted as Keats stood alone at the foot of the pedestal. ”Telgradia shall be as it always was, a graveyard for a broken and defeated people. With or without Temperance, nothing will change that. What you suggest, though, will be the end of many worlds, including Althanas. That, I cannot allow.”

Keats had already realised that there was nothing more he could do to convince Shinsou of the validity of his plan. With or without him, he would awaken Temperance from its deep slumber and lead his waiting empire into a glorious new era, sweeping away all fragments of the Telgradian world. He had decided that he would take Shinsou’s place as Emperor.

He crossed his arms in front of him, dark electricity crackling within his palms, waiting to be unleashed on command.

“You are a fool, Shinsou. You could have had your boot on Telgradia’s throat once again! Now, I will claim that throne as my own, and you will burn to ash for your weakness.”

Shinsou unbuttoned his coat and threw it, watching as it landed in a crumpled white heap next to the blood channel. He rose his right palm and outstretched his fingers, closing his eyes whilst muttering an incantation under his breath.

“Dakuatsu seven: Black Lance”

Immediately, a thin streak of dark energy snapped into existence and expanded, forming into a solid conical shape. Lattices of purple electricity entwined the lance of energy and spiralled up Shinsou’s right arm, stinging his bare flesh and singing small fork shaped burns into the skin.

“You used to admire me, Keats. You will soon know that admiration is the farthest thing from understanding.”

As the battle raged on, the numbers quickly lowered as the courtyard became littered with bodies like a field full of daisy's. Gnarl still standing, still fighting, soon became one of the few remaining prisoners. Regardless of the energy that escaped him, he pushed himself on as he pursued his freedom; and it was so very close.

All this time he had nothing but a disdain for the Talgradian guards, their disapproving looks and their lack of care for the state of the food he received. They had never cared for him before, they did as they were told, they did as they knew, and yet since this whole thing had started it was as if he had forgotten.

Had his hatred waned? He really hadn't the time to really think about it but as he stood beside them, shield to shield, covered in sprays of blood and sweating out true grit together. It became clear that it didn't matter, not now, not later, all that mattered was surviving. Forcing back another foe with a mighty push of his shield, one of the guard hastily stepped up and finished him off with a hefty blow of his mace.

Gnarl paused for that moment, receiving an acknowledgement of a nod before the man moved on. Was he really trusting in them? The only answer was yes, but it was a yes that he had little choice in while they were locked in a battle for their lives.

They had instinctively formed a small group as they progressed forward, leaving a larger and larger gap behind them as they chopped their way through the enemy. The once formal structure now nothing more than a free for all for the remaining men, and with both sides visibly lacking in numbers the counter offensive that Iziz had used had made its impact.

Yet in their breakaway group, they were outnumbered and quickly getting surrounded, with the lack of leadership they had wandered without direction and soon found themselves in a dire position. Yet to their left, waiting behind a few men, one of the very entrances to which their opponents arrived. An exit.

The advancing group realised their mistake too late and their position crumbled, Gnarl witnessing their inevitable doom looked over at the door again. It was his only chance, it was his only opportunity to survive that little longer.

He charged into the fray like an enraged bull, crashed into the body length shield of the enemy. Slashing out decisively with his axe he scalped the first man in his way with a single swing, then in a fluid motion he drove his shield into the second man's gut, allowing for a single but effective follow up strike from his axe. He stepped through the open gap and into the empty doorway. The corridor inside was completely abandoned, with nothing but a bland stone hallway and a series of closed wooden doors that lay ahead. Looking behind him, everyone seemed to attempt to follow, yet only a few would make it.

"Don't fucking stop!" Telana erupted with a great intensity.

Where she had appeared from Gnarl wasn't so sure, he had lost her in the melee as the actions of battle took over. Yet here she was again, tugging his arm almost desperately as she dragged him onwards and away from the swarm of murderous weapons that chased them.

They daren't turn round, their legs exhausted and running as if on fumes, but their desire to live overriding the fact they were so very close to death. It was the first time in the battle Gnarl had actually felt in trouble and while his quick thinking and a bit of luck got him into the corridor in the first place, the reality of the situation was not lost on him.

There was no real escape, there was no real answer waiting for them inside this stone coffin, accept the understanding that it was going to take something special to make it otherwise.

They passed the first door, shut but it mightn't have been locked, yet they had little time to take chances. They paused by the next door, already ajar Gnarl took his opportunity and shoulder barged his way in. Telana quickly followed, almost tripping as she dropped her sword and then forcefully slammed the door shut. The tension now showing on her face her as lips trembled and she pressed her back against the door.

Panting away she slid down the door till her bum pressed against the cold stone. Her head tipped back as she caught her breath, watching Gnarl shut the latch and then ushering her to one side as he jammed an old rusty chair under the handle.

Then, a knocking at the door, repeated slams and kicks of frustration and desperation as a voice called out.

"LET ME IN!" The voice shouted as it shook under the pressure of his thrown punches.

"UNLOCK THE DAMN DOOR!"

"Don't do it..." Telana interrupted, placing her hand on his forearm.

"It's a Talgradian guard!" Gnarl replied upset by her hesitance.

"We have no proof of that, it could be anyone! A trick!"

"LET ME IN NOW!" The panic stricken voice continued to call out in vain.

Gnarl and Telana stared at one another, a disagreement in silence, Gnarl felt it was one of theirs, but he had to agree he didn't really know. He hadn't looked behind him when they ran, he had only looked for an exit and as selfish as it sounded, there was little time to be a hero.

Telana had been no different to Gnarl, she too had not looked behind her, but the care for the potential life of another was something she seemed to lack. Was she wrong to be this way? Or was Gnarl not being cautious enough? The truth was they had no idea who was behind that door, and as it fell silent with the banging stopping it only gave them one truth. They were too scared the open the door.

Gnarl pressed his own back against the thick wooden door, they could hear nothing on the other side of it, and on the inside, there was no other exit. They had not looked properly before entering, the only thing they noted was the lack of life, but they had failed to take note of the lack of another exit.

They sat alone in a uncomfortable silence, inside a small room that must have only been about four meters either way. Loosely stocked with shelves and barrels, spears and swords, boxes and cups. They were sat in store room, a small one at that, and everything appeared old, there were no shiny upgrades for a weapon, the spears well used and too long to use within such a confined space, and the boxes, barrels and cups all looked empty.

The only thing trapped in this room besides themselves was the cold stone that had been used to make it. Even the mounted wall candles remained half used and covered in dust, this room, of all the rooms that must have been in this place, was hardly used.

Side by side they lent against the hard wood of the metal framed door, it's only promising attribute was the effort it took to open it. Even Gnarls barge in had failed to knock it swinging into the wall upon entry. They had trapped themselves in small stone casket, a grave they could share together after leaving their colleague to die.

As much as he hated them, he was never really a murderer, he didn't like letting anyone die if he could help it. The further truth was that he had probably never seen any of these men before, his mistreatment from his cell was more likely that of a actual prison guard than that a soldier of the army.

Telana looked at him, the guilt however much he tried to hide it, was written across his face. She on the other hand seemed to lack any empathy towards anyone besides themselves, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Get a grip Gnarl, were not dead yet."

Gnarl turned to look at her, both panting with exhaustion, but both alive and unwilling to give up. It was an strange silence, awaiting to hear something or someone come chasing them, to crash into the door and tell them to come out and surrender. Yet as the seconds passed, nothing seemed to come for them, were they forgotten or was death coming in silence?

Part of Gnarl wanted to accept defeat, there was simply nothing left, nowhere to go, no one to open the door and tell them they were safe. Gnarl, though physically unscathed was tired and alone, with a woman he struggled to trust, a woman who for some reason had formed a strange attachment with him.

She held her ribs on her left side, hidden slightly from Gnarl as he stood up, but he could see some blood running its way through her fingers. Even with the scruffy hair, dirt covered skin, damaged clothes and fearsome attitude that gave lead to a distrust; she was still attractive. She just oozed questions and uncertainty, how on earth had she made her way to this place?

"Are you hurt?"

Telana almost sneered back, he didn't need to ask the obvious. She raised her bloody hand, it felt a bit shaky as a few drips made their way to the floor before she held her side again. Her brown pants torn revealing a few minor cuts, her knee exposed with a scuff and a graze, she let out a long sigh as she felt a little weak. She was hurting, but she was alive.

"So...looks like our plans went out the window. You prepared to die alongside a stranger?"

Gnarl knelt down and picked up his axe, holding it against his chest in a sort of symbolic pose as he looked into her eyes.

"There are no windows of which to throw out our plans."

Shinsou lurched forward from the pedestal and quickly brought the point of his dark lance to bear, turning to aim a blow at Keats’s exposed left side as his enemy readied his electrical attack. The former emperor made no sound, thrusting his weapon at his foe’s unprotected flank, but Keats quickly pivoted on his right in anticipation of the motion of the lance, only just evading it. As he did, he stumbled slightly, taken by surprise at the speed that his opponent commanded.

Keats thought that his former emperor would have great trouble fighting in close combat with any degree of fluency with such a long weapon, but Shinsou had compensated for his range quickly as Keats stumbled, using the opportunity to retreat a yard to ensure he could put the required power into his next attack. With a quick instep and thrust, Shinsou drove his dark lance point into Keats’s ribs, who stumbled to one knee, blood spattering upon Shinsou's face.

Keats clutched his gushing wound, panting heavily.

“Do not think that you have won!”

Keats looked up at his former charge, the pain from his wound blurring his vision. His face was pale, taught and full of malice. Shinsou’s emotionless gaze bore down on him, tearing into his soul. The emperor gripped tightly on the dark hilt of the lance and the electrical activity around its shaft increased. Keats’s blood still dripped from its point and pooled on the varnished floor below it.

There was what could only be seen as disgust in the Emperor’s countenance.

“In the moments after my defeat, I realised the folly of what I had done, what activating Temperance had wrought, but by then I was already a monster in Telgradia’s eyes. So, I resolved then and there to destroy it for good. You, however, would foolishly try to subjugate it even knowing what it is capable of doing to you. It is a force of pure evil you don’t truly understand, and you hope it will deliver to you the world. I have never seen such utter foolishness."

Shinsou’s voice was deep throated and bellowing. The words themselves were empowering him, and all the while their meaning intended to whittle away Keats’s morale.

Keats bore his pearl white teeth in rage. He had heard enough. Without warning, a web of black electricity crackled into existence and entwined around his right leg. From his crouching position, he placed both hands on the floor and swung his body around, leg outstretched. Shinsou was startled by the sudden counterattack. The emperor felt his feet giving way beneath him and as he crumpled to the floor he grimaced, feeling the stinging heat of the electricity searing his calves. To his amazement, as he lay on his back, Shinsou could still feel the cold hilt of his dark lance still locked between his fingers tightly. Silvery beads of perspiration trickled in firm torrents down his face as the pain from his leg started to creep up his body. The aching from the electrical burn was thumping like a drum, nagging at him.

Keats was back on his feet now, albeit hunched over with his right arm wrapped around his bloodied left rib. The electrical activity around his leg had subsided, but something new was happening. Keats’s counterattack had given him a small yet useful opening.

“Dakuatsu fifty: Jigoku Guard”

From the floor beneath him, spirals of white energy coiled and wrapped themselves around Keats’s legs. They quickly slid over every inch of his body, bathing him in a dazzling light, before finally bursting into a million silvery particles on his command. The particles gathered at the bloodied, puckered flesh of his wound and coalesced together to close the almighty gash that Shinsou’s dark lance had inflicted, much to the emperor’s chagrin.

“You remember this one, right Shinsou?” Keats asked smugly, presenting himself with his arms outstretched. “Jigoku Guard both heals and forms an impenetrable barrier around the user, preventing any Dakuatsu from working. You should have killed me when you had the chance, instead of preaching your nonsense.”

With Shinsou slowly clambering back to his feet on his left, Keats saw where his emperor’s balance would most likely fail him, at least for just that one small moment. He used it to his advantage. Sweeping his right leg outwards, he quickly jutted his heel into the back of Shinsou’s already damaged left knee, the foot connecting harshly with the joint, and sent him crashing to the floor, belly down.

“When you are dead, I’ll take up your mantle and finish the job you started. There’s an empire sat waiting in the shadows at the very edge of this world, Shinsou. They wait for a strong leader. But I’m going to take my time and enjoy this. No-one can get in or out of here, other than me, so we’ll be left in peace to savour each other’s company just a little longer.”

Nius pushed open the door, his bright purple tunic catching the flickering light of the burning torches as he wandered casually down the hallway. Besides a reassuring glance to the posted sign his stride continued towards his favourite part of the day.

Floor 10, Maximum. Senior Staff only.

No one ever talked about it, but these were the worst of the worst prisoners, all celled up next to one another as if on show like legendary creatures. Nius rarely came back down here, the deepest part of the dungeon where only the few were allowed access, but he wasn't here to imprison another killer worthy of their rare dungeon. He was here for his weekly check-up, to ensure there were no problems and to mock those who he hated most.

This dungeon was layered under thousands and thousands of tonnes of rock, re-enforced with the toughest of metal's to create the cell's and then shrouded with dampening magic in the form of restraints and a mist that engulfed the entire level ensuring no amount of power could surface beyond it.

There was no equal to this prison and with such measures in place, it had become customary for Nius to mock the monsters that he now controlled. He smugly stroked his own beard as he pre-empted the hatred he was about to receive, marching past the first few doors he decided he would return for them later; firstly he would greet her again.

Yet, before him hidden within the shadowed light stood what appeared to be a guard, still armoured and with weapon in hand, yet the standing spear looked as if it held him upright. He was completely motionless and didn't respond to the approaching footsteps of Nius.

"What the hell are you doing down here soldier?"

Nius was furious, the amount of trouble they would be in was absurd and how exactly he had gained access to the secure facility was going to be an even bigger question. Something was just not right, the air still, the burning torches appearing unnaturally slow and the cold damp smell lifted into his nose stronger than ever before. The guard as still as a stone statue, remained silent and did not react to Nius as he stood before him.

He didn't need to shout at him to understand he was not his normal, and as he waved his hand in front of his face not even a flicker of the eyes reacted to his presence. The eerie silence had never bothered Nius before, but as he stood facing a man who he could only describe as dead on his feet, it scared him to think he was now alone in this corridor with an open cell.

The door ajar, the lock open and a more than likely empty cell; at least he hoped. Gripping the man by each arm, Nius shook him harshly to disrupt the frozen moment and bring back any life that still remained. The scale mail armour rattled and his spear dropped from his limp hand as his eyes finally began to react to the real world. Nius observed as his pupils adjusted to the light as regained their composure. His legs nearly collapsing beneath him as he steadied himself, he greeted Nius rather confused.
"Sir..."

"What on earth are you doing down here?" Nius let him go as he turned towards the door.

"I don't know Sir."

Nius, still uncertain of his position braved the negative thoughts as he pushed the door open and looked suspiciously into the empty cell. The hanging chains all released with the metal cuffs along with various other bits of broken metal lay strewn about the floor. Nius took a long deep breath as the realisation of the missing prisoner sunk in. Not only was it a disaster of the most serious type, it was an insight into what was supposed to be the impossible.

He walked slowly across the room, stopping curiously in the middle as he ran his stressed hand through his greying black hair. Kneeling down to inspect he picked up a small piece of metal, cutting his finger on the sharp protruding blade of the snapped metal link. The small seeping droplet of blood was more than just a small cut; it was a message, and one that hit him like an old memory.

Nius almost toppled over as he steadied himself, leaning on all fours as he struggled to intake the vast of amount of information that fed to him. His eyes glazed over black, his skin uncontrollably sweating and his muscles weak and as the magic took a hold of him.

The silent guard stood in shock, but it only took a moment, a few tough and painful seconds, but seconds nonetheless. Nius's breathing relaxed again, but now he could see everything he was meant to see, and he didn't like what he saw.

"I...I understand what happened." He muttered as he rose to his feet. An uncomfortable ringing now present in his ears and a headache that was discouraging to say the least. "You came down here to rape her..."

The guard stuttered bemused by the question, Nius could see the past, some sort of seer that could connect to an objects history after its touch.

"You selfish ignorant fool. The moment that thought crossed your mind you killed us both."

“SHE WAS IN CHAINS!” He protested, gesturing dramatically at the loose hanging chains of the cell. “Like anyone cares what we do to these prisoners…They are in here to rot, so I made use of her. Not like she can do anything, she’s still wearing the necklace…right?”

Ignoring the man’s ignorant uncertainty, Nius looked down to his finger, the small flesh cut dribbled out a small but continual stream of blood to which he frowned.

The guard continued. “I mean, only you can lock and unlock those right? Right? She can’t get to the key. Plus, I didn’t even know you were a seer, I mean…I thought nothing could come of this.”

Nius then rubbed a small bleed from his nose, his muscles suddenly feeling fragile and weak as he took a deep breath of a sigh.

“I know what you thought, nay, I understand what you thought. But because of you, she’s free and now it’s only a matter of time.”

“What do you mean? She has the key?”

“You know, when I agreed to be part of this, I never thought it would end this way. Immortality comes at a price; I’ve watched my family die, my wife, my children and their children. I have watched my friends die and colleagues come and go as I’ve served. It is a shame that you’ll never fully understand what you were part of here.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Well, I’m already dead, she poisoned the metal, she knew I’d come in here and cut my finger to find its past. But more importantly, as soon as I die and that isn’t too far away now...”

Nius’s nose began to bleed more profusely as his eyes suddenly showed the signs of blood clots and bleeding vessels. The guard watched in horror, not really understanding the events before him, but scared all the same.

“…Well you’ll be questioned and then killed for your part in this.”

“But you’ve always said this place is protected…How…”

“You can only dampen power; you can never completely remove it. She played you like a piano and you performed.”

Finally the reality of the situation struck him and the guard charged off, dropping his spear a second time in panic and it rattled for a moment as it hit the rocky floor. Nius didn’t give chase, he didn’t need to, the man’s futile attempt to escape would not get him far.

“How did she figure out I was a living key…”

Nius looked down at his hands again, his every limb shaking while his very skin began to sweat blood. His breathing paced quicker, shocked and afraid but while he knew it was pointless, the urge to shout out for help grew. The questions of how she knew what to do and how she got it in the prison in the first place rattled his frightened mind, but no question or answer could satisfy him before he died.

He hobbled, almost falling over towards the cell door, leaning against its frame with his hand the door shifted; allowing his weakening legs to give way as he collapsed in the entrance to the cell. A lot of things had changed in his time, but now as he lay down on the floor: unable to sit up or stand, his blood oozing out of every orifice, his vision blurred and reseeding with his breathing slowing. He had to accept he was beaten, and his given of near immortality had been solved and defeated.

Telana was free.

Telana felt a little confused, what on earth was he actually saying to her? If he was suggesting they need not give up, she was fine with that, but any suggestion that they were not in such a dire situation was just absurd.

The pain from her wound ever growing, and the blood seemingly ever pouring, she refused to look down at it as she felt the warm blood squeeze through her fingers. It was a scary thought to consider the fact she may be dying, slowly.

She felt a little faint as she leant her head forward and pressed her free hand into forehead; the light headedness beginning to take some effect on her as it began to override her stubbornness. Maybe she had gone as far as she could go and maybe she wasn’t supposed to be free again, oh how she hated the thought of dying while still being a prisoner.

“You’re not from Talgadria are you?” She questioned him rather confidently.

Gnarl feeling a little concerned to her situation remained down at her height as she rested against the wall. The mixed feelings to being worried she would die, but then the counter argument that she really wasn’t his friend so why should he care? Maybe he had a chance to find out.

“No, I am from a land called Husral, though I am so far from it now I know not how to return.” Gnarl found himself being maybe a little to honest, but considering they were probably both dead maybe it didn’t really matter after all.

“I have never seen Talgardia beyond the walls I have spent my incarceration in. I didn’t even have a window of which to look out of, it is a shame because I would liked to have at least seen the sun. I could tell you know…I could tell you were like me, lost from further away than any Talgardian could understand.”

Gnarl watched her carefully as she muttered to him, her face a little pale, her voice a little shy from earlier, and her eye contact from those beautiful blue eyes lessened. Gnarl felt she wanted to say something, after already admitting her cell had no window, he could deduce she was treated much harsher, an even deeper more locked down part of the prison maybe.

A couple of cautious footsteps sounded from behind the door and Gnarl picked himself up. Both Telana and Gnarl stared at the door lock, a simple latch lock that could be lifted by either side. At least the chair propped up behind would ensure it stayed closed; for now at least.

The door shuffled slightly, the lock lifting and dropping followed by a thud as the person on the other side tried to barge in. Gnarl's felt his nerves kick in again, it was clear now they had not been missed, not been forgotten and with no real route of escape, they would have to fight a enemy in a much larger number than themselves.

The door thudded again, the heavy weight wanting to shift but withheld by the chair jammed up its latch. Stepping back Gnarl gripped his axe tightly and picked up his discarded shield, he would at least be ready for a fight. Telana dragged herself across the floor, walking on her knees for a moment before Gnarl couldn't withhold his sympathy any longer.

"Get off..." She grumbled as he leant in to help her. She had no intention of being looked after, even if she really did need the help. "Urgh...What the hell did you get on me?"

The green ooze on her hand after she pushed him was more slimy then runny, but it looked rather gross as it ran over her free hand.

Gnarl looked down at his top, the green slime situated right over his chest, and confused to where he came from he almost jumped back as if avoiding a spider.

"Your necklace..." Telana pointed out...the chained necklace's green stone had melted, and no longer hung from his neck. Giving it a quick tug, the strength of the necklace had waned, snapping like paper it fell to the floor; useless.

Telana smiled as she removed it, appearing much less confused than Gnarl as she tried to rub the green mess from her own chest.

"Ha..haha...Hahahahaha!"

Gnarl didn't see what was so funny, but it was much less amusing and more a laugh of relief as she looked rather pleased with the whole thing. The door thudded again reminding them of where they were, but again as if something was willing them to carry on, to not give up; the floor shook.

Electricity filled the air, sparks appeared and flashed across the room from nowhere, what was going on? Again the door shook as the once dim store room began lighting up and shaking as if the gods themselves were trying to tell them something.

Losing his balance for a moment Gnarl dropped to one knee as his axe slipped from his hand and fell to Telana's feet. Her laughing had stopped, but her grin, just like when he first saw her by the marble fountain remained.

"You're gonna need this." She smiled handing it back to him.

Then reminiscent of what had happened earlier, a strange bright white light lit the room and emerging before the a much smaller, much less hostile, but glowing with strange sparks of cloudless lighting a sort of portal, a gateway with no door to open. The glowing orb quite frightening in appearance blocked the doorway and remained just about large enough to fit the average person inside.

Gnarl partially shielding his eyes stared at it, confused and unsure to what was happening and what was going to happen to him as he knelt before it.

"Go in, go in, go in!" A familiar rough voice shouted. "Stop cowering and jump in, jump!"

"What?" He turned to the injured Telana, who still looked fading.

"Down here!" The voice called again.

It only dawned on him then, Stoney had been silent all this time. As if something had been disrupting his presence or speech, but now free to talk again, Stoney may have arrived to give some good advice at a well needed time.

"Stoney....Are the God's telling me this is it? Am I never to leave this place?" Gnarl looked over to Telana, her eyes closed, but still breathing, he didn't want to leave her to die, but what could he do? "Tell me what to do Stoney! Tell me..."

The door thudded heavily again, and this time the chair moved, dropping down to the floor with a crash behind the portal. One more hit and the door would open for sure, if they figured the lock was released they wouldn't even need to barge through.

"The God's offer you the only way...jump through the portal, and slay Keats the betrayer..."

"What does that mean?" Gnarl stared down as his bulging pocket awaiting a better reply from Stoney.

"You've been given the power to slay they betrayer, break his will and you'll save yourself..."

Gnarl looked back at Telana once more, her hand still gripped her wound, but she seemed much less by the second. It went against everything his heart desired, everything he believed in, but he would have to leave her, he would have to save himself. There was nothing he could do for her, and he would have to convince himself later that it was the right choice, but he had no time to feel guilty right now.

The door crashed open and the portal sparked with yet another large electrical spike that shook the room. Gnarl finally gritted his teeth, raised his shield to his chest and ducked his head. Charging with all of his might and using every last bit of energy he could muster to sprint into the portal; he slipped through.

His eyes closed, he felt the air change with a sudden stillness, the smell of blood still remained but the warm air now no longer presented the static feeling he had just experienced.

Opening his eyes he now faced across a new room, and standing before him two dueling men. Was this what Stoney meant? Was this what he was supposed to do? The smarter more extravagant room separated him from them with tables and paper work, and he stared across in shock as they seemed unaware of his entrance to this place.

His axe suddenly felt warm and without warning it glowed a clear light sky blue that illuminated his hand as he held it close. Then as expected his presence was soon discovered, with the surprised eye’s of the standing man zoned in on him. Not a word was uttered, but the silent stare between the two remained as they each questions one others motives.

“There he is…” Stoney repeated. “Keats…He stands before you, Keats the betrayer…”

Keats knocked back his black hair with his free but bloodied hand, caring neither for this wound or his familiar looking opponent who lay almost defeated upon the cold marble flooring before him. The surprise of Gnarls arrival was overridden by the sheer arrogance that Keats felt invincible; he was powerful, protected and confident in his present moment. Why should he acknowledge a mere prisoner, even if he was where he should never have been.

Gnarl pushed his axe up to his neck, tucking it under the broken prisoner necklace and then flicked it away as it sliced easily through the chain allowing it to free fall to his feet. It was more than just jettisoning loose crap he had been forced to wear, it was the start of his freedom and Keats would regret his arrogance.

"I believe the God's are telling me to kill you...Keats..."

Bewilderment was a word that could only begin to explain the look that crossed Keats’s face. This new adversary had appeared out of thin air and had begun issuing threats, rambling on about some divine orders he had received to kill him.

It was utterly ridiculous that anyone but he and Shinsou should be here, given the level of magic required to access The Cartographer, and the Telgradian was left hoping that this absurdity was some sort of illusion. Perhaps Shinsou had cast some sort of disorientating enchantment that had struck him without him realising it, but somehow Keats knew this to be untrue.

“Had you not been standing before me, I would have called this an impossibility. But…” Keats said as Shinsou lay crumpled at his boots. He sniffed. “…by the smell of it, it seems you managed to re-open my portal, whoever you are. That’s the scent of Dakuatsu hanging in the air. Quite an achievement.”

The Telgradian tried to get back to his feet, but a swift kick from Keats to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor, all the while his Dark Lance clenched in his grip. A stream of blood trickled from the corner of Shinsou’s mouth, staining the Cartographer’s floor beneath him.

”…however, you are too late. Whether you are here to kill me, or rescue him, or both, it doesn’t matter. You see, no Telgradian can so much as lay a finger on me now.”

The man’s face was entirely unfamiliar, and yet something about it tugged at the deepest recesses of Keats’s memory. It felt like there was something he wanted to remember, but he just couldn't remember what. Despite this, his breath hung on the air, the anticipation of being so close to reaching his goal making his hairs stand on end.

“It is decided! I will kill both of you, then! I will offer you as blood sacrifices to Temperance, and with his seal broken, I will create an empire of the likes that has not been seen for thousands of years, one that will span all worlds!”

Heavy rain began pelting the windows, the only source of light from the outside world in the Cartographer, leaving streaks of water where it travelled. Reaching out, Keats drew his hands towards the man, savouring the sensation as his fingers began to tingle with the familiar feeling of the readying of Dakuatsu forty, Shinohai.

It was his most powerful attack. Soon, a huge wave of razor sharp ash would travel at over one hundred miles per hour towards his foe, engulfing him, and there would be nothing that anyone could do to stop him.

“Let the scales fall from their eyes, the blind, and let them know their own powerlessness. Let the wind carry their ashes to the sun, and scatter them."

Gnarl listened to his words, maybe he would have been intimidated if it had been another time, another place with another opportunity. Yet here, out of nowhere, there was a sudden but definite inevitability to the situation. Gnarl felt he was here for a reason, to go through everything he had endured and to be here now must have been the will of the Gods, he was sure of it.

For everything he had lost: for all the time spent in isolation, for his survival of the battle behind him, and for his strange new friend he had to leave behind; Telana. His presence was now here, staring across a room he had never witnessed before, at a man he had never met and bearing a strength he had never felt before. His instructions were not ambiguous or unclear, his target stood but a few meters away and his weapon of choice was held tightly in his grasp.

His new found vigour rushed through his body like adrenalin, nothing Keats could say would change his mind, and Keats relaxed turned aggressive posture was a clear sign of intent that he was exactly the person Stoney was referring to.

"It is decided! I will kill both of you, then! I will offer you as blood sacrifices to Temperance, and with his seal broken, I will create and empire of the likes that has not been seen for thousands of years, one that will span all worlds!"

Gnarl heard everything, every word, every embellished remark that left his mouth. He had heard this before, he had seen the devastation that people like him can and have caused. Was it evil? Maybe it was, but Gnarl didn't truly believe in it, all he saw was a desperate man, a man who had lost his mind to believe he could attain such power, such control over life and everything he can achieve with it under his wing.

He had to be stopped, he had to slain here, right now before he could hurt anyone else, because more families would die. Gnarl had lost his own to a man like this, he could not bear to allow someone of his personality to exist.

"Now...Kill him now!" Stoney urged him on. "Be free once more..."

Keats began to thrust out his hands in Gnarls direction as the rain outside shrouded the empty atmosphere with life. A flash of light erupted from outside, but no thunder shook the room as Gnarl leapt into action, stretching into a sprint as he carried his Buckler shield over one arm while his axe remained ready in other.
Each step closer felt like it took a lifetime, but his trance remained locked into Keats insatiable unmoveable glare. Both men in full belief that they were about to end the life of the other, there were no tactics being played, just a simple outright attack to end the other.

Gnarl, exhausted on the outside had only one intent, to live another day.

After all this time it comes to this. I put my trust in you Stoney, show me I am not completely mad...Show me that you really are here to guide me beyond the point of death today...

Stepping away from the open space, Gnarl leapt up onto the next table, it large bulk and sturdy build able to hold his mount. He charged across the table top, kicking the few objects that littered the surface as he concentrated on his target. Then, jumping with all his might he rode the air like a bird aloft the sky, his shield dipped, his axe up above his head. He appeared to defy gravity as he cleared the gap between the table and Keats while still in flight.

His glowing axe swiftly slicing downwards, his shield dropping but still a front as Keats raised his hands to meet. They clashed, Keats attack like a cloud of daggers crashed into Gnarl's shield as he fell upon him, while his axe came down and struck the shoulder of the apparent unarmed man.

Then like the shattering of glass something exploded out from Keats as Gnarl's axe made connection, his magic stopped as a white light expelled from between them causing the two men fly apart. Keats left the floor and crashed into the rock wall, while Gnarl flew backwards across the opposite side of the room, smashing over the table he had leapt from, then rolling into a pile of dormant chairs.

His shield still linked over his arm, but the weight now held him down, dazed and hurt from the impact his axe was nowhere to be seen. He lay there amongst the furniture, his arms spread out like an eagle, his head now aching, and his body feeling weak. What had just happened?

Shinsou was barely conscious and the world around him seemed to be blurring into a sickly haze, like an oil painting ruined by a water spillage. His joints ached where Keats had struck him and where he had impacted the cold, hard floor. Blood flowed in crimson torrents from his lips, dripping down his chin and forking down the front of his neck. The salty taste upon his lips from the liquid was an unfamiliar one that stunned him momentarily – there weren’t many people who had caused the mighty Shinsou Vaan Osiris to bleed – but after a few moments, his mind snapped back to reality.

Flicking strands of brown matted hair out of his face, Shinsou looked up to survey the carnage before him. As he did so, he caught sight of Keats slumped against the northern wall of the Cartographer, lay prostrate amongst the debris one of the many mahogany bookshelves that lined the chamber walls. A pair of wincing, dark eyes looked back toward him, the glowing bruises above his cheeks visible even in the dim glow that fought through the thick rain clouds outside. His features were gaunt and frail, almost as if something had leeched the life from his body, and his chest rose and fell harshly as the man’s lungs tried to work through the pain of his injuries.

Shinsou managed, slowly, to push himself onto all fours. His breath was laboured to the point of almost choking and his strength felt sapped from Keats’s repeated assaults, but eventually the Telgradian staggered to his feet, swaying like a rubber man before eventually steadying himself on two feet. His first steps were slow and small. He looked down to his right hand to see his Dark Lance still somehow locked in his bloodstained grip, and began to amble past the Cartographer’s stone pedestal in the centre of the room. Ahead of him, his target was spread across a pile of books and broken wood, barely moving.

Then, suddenly, reality was sucked into pure, brilliant white.

Shinsou panicked. The floor, the walls, the whole Cartographer had exploded into a million tiny fragments of reality that spun away from him uncontrollably like shrapnel. Was this some sort of trick or illusion? Was Keats doing this to him?

It wasn’t long before he realised, alone in the void, that he could no longer feel the pain of his injuries or taste the bitterness of his wound upon the tip of his tongue. His clothes were clean, his hair swept back into its usual slick style. His arms and legs were no longer aching, and his magic had dissolved into nothing.

“Where am I?”

He wasn’t expecting there to be a response, so when it came and took form of a softly spoken female voice, it startled him.

“The question, Shinsou, isn’t where you are. Right now, it is who you are. I will help you…remember.”

The woman’s form seemed to manifest through a cloud of grey vapour before his very eyes, and took a moment to fully appear. Her hair was brown, straight, falling in soft waves to the middle of her back. Strands hung in layers about her glowing face. Her nose was petit and her cheeks were smooth. Her clothes seemed to consist of a flowing gown of light, one that Shinsou’s eyes could never really focus on, as if one were gazing into ultra-violet light. She gazed at him with green eyes that sparkled, beautiful things that regarded him with a warm interest, and yet all the while seemed to enquire.

When the realisation hit him after a few moments of reflection, Shinsou’s eyes widened with shock.

It couldn’t be.

“…Rhovani?”

In the blink of an eye, the atmosphere changed and for a moment it threw Shinsou off guard. The air became hot and dry, but laced with a familiar scent of Jal Shey bitterweed that caused him to squint unflatteringly. They now stood in the ruins of a vaguely familiar Telgradian valley, one he couldn't place off the top of his head, but a looming statue blinked into focus against the burning red sky as his eyes adjusted to the dying light.

Then, he knew. This was the Valley of the Jal Shey Lords.

“Five years ago, you, as General Atlas Revaan, came to the Telgradian Outlands to stop a separatist rebellion from tearing Telgradia apart. Under the guise of a war hero, you obtained permission to enter the Jal Shey territories, usually forbidden, to finish your campaign.”

That’s what I wanted people to believe. That’s what I needed people to believe.

“…Only that campaign was a lie. The separatists had long since been defeated, and were already crushed and scattered across Telgradia after the battle of Gaus years before. The war was already won, but so far away from the King’s territories you knew that no-one would be able to stop you entering the Outlands if you convinced your troops there was more to be done before the battle was over.”

I lied, but I had to. They tried to stop me coming for you. I couldn’t let that happen.

“The Jal Shey had taken me three years before you came, smuggling me through their outposts and into the deepest recesses of their territories. By the time you got to the Temple of Osiris, having ruthlessly cut through swathes of your enemies and having sacrificed the blood of your own men, there was nothing you could do.”

…It was too late.

The woman turned, staring towards the setting sun on the horizon.

“The beast you know as Temperance was created by the dark magic of the Jal Shey, and to finish their creation they needed a fuel source. However, for all of their experience in the black arts, they could never create anything that could keep it alive for long enough.”

You always had such a radiant smile and warmth I couldn’t understand in the cold light of day. Your beauty was unreal.

“I was dragged into the temple’s lowest level, stripped bare, and forced to watch as their disgusting creation of bone and shadow consumed all of their living prisoners, but it still wasn’t enough. Then, the Jal Shey realised that I was of the bloodline.”

Your power, though, was even more potent than your beauty. A princess of the royal bloodline? They must have thought they had struck gold. Your soul alone was enough.

“I realised that there was no escape. Temperance consumed me without mercy, moments before you arrived. But, I thought, if I could just keep my soul intact, perhaps I could influence it enough to prevent it from harming Telgradia…from harming you.”

Nothing turned out right, Rhovani. Our bond…

“However, such was the strength of our bond that the darkness inside Temperance overcame my will and was able to manipulate you. Sentient at last, it used its vile power to transform you into Shinsou Vaan Osiris and send you to do its bidding across Telgradia. I couldn’t stop it, but I knew that if I tried, I could maybe weaken the link between you.”

It worked. The further away I travelled from the Temple of Osiris, the weaker the control over me was. But then, something happened. Even as Temperance’s influence started to break, my own feelings started to manifest. You were lost to me, Rhovani, because Telgradia deemed you lost to them and refused to help. The darkness Temperance had filled my soul with was replaced with real, almost tangible hatred. Out of that hatred I waged a relentless war against my people. I was responsible for tens of thousands of deaths.

Afterwards, inside, I felt a terrible remorse. Once the anger and the sadness subsided, I realised I was no longer the ruthless Emperor of Telgradia. I was in isolation with only my regrets and my war-mongering accomplice Keats left. Thirsty for power, his mind completely dominated by Temperance’s twisted grip, he wanted to purge everything Telgradian from the face of the planet. That’s when I realised I had to act, and by sacrificing my whole power I somehow temporarily sealed Temperance using the Cartographer on Althanas and faked my defeat.

I knew that once I was captured, the only sentence the council could pass would be imprisonment in Kokushi’s seventh level and a complete razing of my soul. They would store enough of my original essence in a Pillar vessel to ensure I could return to “myself” again. Keats would then come for me, and resurrect me under the impression we would be continuing our vendetta against the Telgradian Monarchy.

Rhovani turned towards Shinsou, raising a hand to his chin and softly stroking his cheek.

“…This, Shinsou, is you in the flesh. Free of that insatiable hunger for revenge. Free of your hatred.”

I’m not free of my hatred. I’m not free of anything.

Not yet.

Rhovani stood before him and clasped her hands demurely in front of her.

“Go, and do what you must to be free again. Shinsou, you are…”

The white void returned, wiping away the remnants of the Jal Shey valley, and collapsed in on itself to form a corridor of bright blue light. As Rhovani’s silhouette faded into non-existence, Shinsou followed the passage, which dipped sharply as it carried him back into reality. Strange sensations followed, from what seemed like him splashing through stagnant water to there suddenly being many openings along the walls, gaping mouths revealing endless chasms to the unknown.

The moment came at last when Shinsou finally arrived back at the chaotic scene of the Cartographer. A new surge of adrenaline welled up in him, empowered by his vision of Rhovani, his lost love, but this one he stamped down as he cast his eyes back towards the bleeding Keats. Shinsou, with renewed purpose, approached him, glancing back over his shoulder to see if Keats’s assailant was moving. He wasn’t.

As Shinsou reached Keats, the Telgradian’s former right hand man quivered and looked up. He no longer saw a man, or an Emperor. Instead, a demon loomed above him, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury, wielding his Dark Lance menacingly. Keats’s shoulders drooped and he cocked his head to one side, and his brain struggled to make sense of what he was seeing.

“How…how could I be so damaged?”

“That man…” Shinsou started, delighting in explaining Keats’s shortcoming to him before his imminent demise and gesturing back towards the motionless Gnarloc behind him “…was a prisoner in Kokushi, and part of the convict guard assigned to this mission. However, it would appear he was not Telgradian, obvious by having so easily been able to break your Jigoku Guard. Your arrogance in thinking you were untouchable and unreachable here in the Cartographer has proven to be your downfall.”

Keats winced. The sound of this mocking was deafening, soul crushing, coming from Shinsou, but the man couldn’t muster the energy for a response.

“Don't worry. I’ll give you a fitting end...for a monster. Goodbye, Jaeger, and rest easy knowing that Temperance will be joining you soon!”

With that, Shinsou recalled his dark lance, instead raising his left hand until it was level with Keats’s sprawled form. He tensed. There was a massive surge of adrenaline now, enough to chase off the aches and pains of his encounter, as the words of an incantation rolled from his tongue.

“Let the scales fall from their eyes, the blind, and let them know their own powerlessness. Let the wind carry their ashes to the sun, and scatter them."

From the gulley of Shinsou’s outstretched palm, the colossal grey wave of Shinohai’s deadly ash blasted towards Keats, finally answering the call of its master.

Keats’s heart, for the first time since he had challenged Shinsou, leapt into his throat as he watched Shinohai approach him. In those few seconds, as the deadly ash stripped the flesh from his face, rending asunder layers of skin and tissue, he finally felt true fear.

Strangely, he had felt that the moment he’d seen Atlas Revaan in his dormitory that it was going to come down to this. Gone were the safe walls in the Telgradian Royal Guard barracks where he had planned out Shinsou’s resurrection, replaced now only by the desolation of the Cartographer and the resting place of all of his plans. Keats knew he should be doing something, anything, to protect himself but now there was just acceptance of the inevitable. It felt like he was trapped in quicksand and no matter how much he struggled he couldn’t seem to move. The ash cut through his muscle and bones like a knife through butter, and before long the only remaining evidence that Keats had ever existed was the broken, scattered remains of his stripped, bloody carcass.

Shinsou lowered his hand, steadily, as Shinohai’s cloud dissipated in front of his eyes, leaving nothing but a bloodied mess where Keats used to be against the wall.

There was no disbelief, no remorse in his soul for what he had done. Keats’s eyes that had looked up towards him in those final moments were no different to those of any other murderer that had accepted their fate, that death had finally come to collect, and now that he had silenced this madman Shinsou finally felt somewhat vindicated.

And then, suddenly, he saw her. Rhovani’s image. He doubted his eyes, denied it, but her voice echoed around him. He felt strained by a sudden fear and exhaustion, and as her image momentarily superimposed itself on the side of the stone sarcophagus in the centre of the room, Shinsou’s legs gave in and everything went black, leaving a barely conscious Gnarloc alone in the Cartographer.

There was something about waking up after passing out from exhaustion. The healing of the aches in Shinsou’s muscles that had plagued him for those few hours, the crackle of bone and cartilage shifting back into their rightful place, the blinding blur of the first glimpse of everything around him and the everlasting desire for another five minutes of just lying there.

Those feelings were just a bit of what Shinsou felt as he opened his eyes to the gold and white biblical mosaics of the Cartographer’s ceiling. He had no idea what had happened to him after calling forth Shinohai. Or, for that matter, what he was doing sleeping on a rather cold and hard marble floor, but he sat up and finally looked around the room.

…Rhovani?

A voice in his head urged him to get up and with more than a little effort he raised himself to his feet. Shinsou then remembered he wasn’t alone, and his head jerked instinctively towards the pile of debris on the southern side of the room where his unlikely ally had last been seen. Searching through the piles of discarded books and splintered wood, his keen eyes soon fell on a figure clad in the clothes of one of the convict guard.

He was breathing, and just about conscious.

“Can you stand?” he paused, offering his hand to the man.

The man, battered and bruised from the impact resulting from his brave assault on Keats, took it and hoisted himself up carefully, nearly slipping. When he was back on his feet, Shinsou noted how the man towered over him. He seemed to be almost built for fighting, but seemed oddly attached to a stone he now clenched in his left hand.

Very strange, but it wasn’t exactly a run-of-the-mill day.

”Whatever your motives for doing what you did, I thank you. I know you are part of the convict guard from Kokushi. I can also guess you aren’t Telgradian, judging by the way you were able to break Keats’s barrier….but there is something about you I can’t place…”

He just couldn’t put his finger on the nagging memory for some reason. It was like looking into a thick layer of fog; he could see that something was most definitely there, but no matter how much he strained his eyes, it remained fuzzy at best. Shinsou shrugged it off internally, deciding whatever it was, it could wait.

“Anyway...there are no guards left to worry about here. As long as your legs can carry you to wherever you intend to go, your freedom is assured. I hid the incantation to re-open the portal in a scripture here, so rest a bit and I will see to the gateway momentarily.”

Shinsou scraped back on his heels and paced to the eastern bookshelf, the only one still relatively intact. He investigated the contents shelf by shelf, running a finger over the smooth scarlet spines one by one and then allowing his digits to dance over entire volumes as he searched for the specific book containing the incantation for the portal.

It took some minutes but eventually the Telgradian located the scripture. He outlined to Gnarl what had unfurled here, and how he could escape to nearby Corone to save himself a harrowing journey in the wrong direction. Shinsou, meanwhile, would stay here for the moment and take advantage of the huge knowledge base available to him. Perhaps he would learn something that would help his mission to defeat Temperance. Who knew?

A few minutes later, the portal was open, and Gnarl was free to make whatever choices he needed to make on his own journey.

---

Epilogue

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The moonlight poured over the now silent fortress, making the ancient building glow an eerie silver hue in the midnight darkness. The sky was devoid of cloud-cover, revealing every shimmering point of the celestial canvass. With the gentle wind stroking against the grimy, rain streaked windows of the Cartographer, each small rattle followed by the sigh of the swirling air, there was now only peace.

Inside the Cartographer, only one man remained, stretched out on the pedestal surrounded by the destruction caused the previous day. Within his hands he held a thick black book with hundreds of gold leaf pages and a heavy black script. Of all the books he had collected, this one he did not remember. Wherever it had come from, it had survived the chaotic activity from the day’s fighting, and now Shinsou set about studying its pages, devouring its information like a rare cuisine.

The Telgradian took a breath as the pages began to take him somewhere else. The darkness of night had completely enveloped him now, so he moved to the window to catch the only light there was. Here, in this library, he had realised he was both man and child. The further Shinsou delved into the knowledge he had painstakingly collected all these years, the more it made him feel that all that he had ever been was a newborn wrapped like a blanket.

As Shinsou flipped through further pages, he finally fell on one page, mostly blank except for a very small handwritten note. Intrigued, he turned from the window, the book still in hand, and walked back to the middle of the room.

The Jal Shey and Temperance are only the start. Turn your eyes to the Citadel.

After Shinsou had read the note aloud, the only sound through the Cartographer was the light crunch of the Telgradian's feet as he walked slowly over the marble floor, with only his curiosity left for company.

---

Spoils:

Magic:

Dakuatsu forty: Shinohai

Shinsou summons a cloud of razor sharp ash projectiles from his hands. The direction, form and trajectory of the cloud can be controlled by the user as long as it still exists and hasn't been nullified. This can be used once per battle and can cut metals up to steel strength.

The spell is nullified by water, and causes Shinsou to feel lethargic afterwards (until level 2 is reached) for a period of thirty seconds.

Had he ever felt so mute before now? There had been many times of silence within the confines of his old prison cell, but it was rare for Gnarl to find such silence when being spoken to directly. Yet it was more out of confusion than actual ignorance towards the man he had inadvertently helped through his actions.

The truth was, he wanted Stoney to pass him some more advice; he needed some more knowledge, some more understanding to where exactly he was and why he was there.

“I see freedom beyond the portal, escape…” Stoney continued to rattle out random ramblings all leading towards diverting Gnarl out of the mysterious room.

Gnarl had lost his weapon, maybe lost his mind but at least he was still alive, it was proof that Stoney was doing something to help him. Evidently Stoney’s orders, however late they were had saved his life albeit with the unfortunate loss of Telana. Gnarl now stood staring out through the blurry murky portal, flexing about like shimmering unsettled water, but even as he stared back at the very room he had entered through, Telana’s body did not await him.

What did they do to her…

Gnarl peered back over his shoulder, Shinsou had wandered across the room; beginning to pick up some of the scattered belongings of the room. This place may hold some secrets for the man, but not for Gnarl, his destiny lay elsewhere and their encounter however beneficial was temporary and far from friendship. Maybe they shared the fact that they both wanted to be free from the mad men that had imprisoned them, but at this moment, that was all they shared and Gnarl felt no desire to continue to remain with him.

“Good luck…I hope you find whatever you are looking for.”

He didn't wait for an answer, while not ignorant by any means, he had other things on his mind he needed to attend to. He took one last look at the floor from where he stood. A few ripped pieces of paper, some broken and splintered furniture, but no hand axe in sight. His weapon missing, seemingly lost within the strange room that Gnarl was looking forward to leaving.

Stepping through it was once again effortless, a transition as easy as stepping through an open door, and as it faded away from behind him to leave the very entrance he had not long since tried to barricade, he left yet another person behind. At least this one he didn't need to regret.

The room was a wreck with nothing left as he had remembered, the dusty messy room now a mess of destructive proportions. The shelves collapsed, the old weapons and racks astray upon the stone floor and the many boxes shattered or knocked and damaged to one side of the room. It was more than someone just searching, these items appeared blown across the room; had the portal done such damage upon its arrival?

Gnarl had never looked back after he stepped through, had the portal been even more destructive behind him as he passed through it? The door now stood widely ajar, it's latch broken but it's entrance empty. Gnarl walked cautiously out into the main corridor, the now empty hallway echoed his every foot step as he wandered into it's still air. The stench of death was evident, but only one body lay crumpled upon the wall opposite the store room. The soldiers jaw hanging loose, dislocated and bloody, his weapons lost and his armour pierced and gaping but the murder weapon not to be seen.

A long line of sprayed blood spread across the floor in arches, the amount of red suggested there should have been bodies, but none remained. Had they carried a wounded comrade it was possible they couldn't stop the bleeding, but it's direction and spray seemed unlikely. Gnarl couldn't help but continue, it's not like he could progress further into the castle; he needed to leave his immediately.

Remaining calm, he knew he needed a weapon, his shield while sturdy and relatively undamaged was no offensive weapon; if only he had not lost his axe. Each step was as careful as the next in an attempt to remain out of sight as well as ensure silence. Moving from pillar to pillar along the open hall it was his only cover should someone step back into the hallway.

Then the background ambience picked up, no clashing weapons or war cries, but rain. Hard bouncing rain that battered the gravel outside and began to wash away the blood that filled the courtyard outside. Gnarl stood confused in the open doorway, more bodies, more blood and now even some weapons of which he could use should he need it. Yet, no battle raged on, no enemy to combat, no look outs on the search for him.

Just a single woman standing drenched in rain within before the large partially opened gate of the castle. The guard house door wide open with a pair of legs hanging out, and her position surrounding by a circle of dead bodies. Gnarl froze nervously, cautious to a fault at times, but this was serious, was this a survivor in the rain, or a psychopath who had mercilessly murdered all of those around them. A short but bloodied blade hung limp in her hand, her hair soaked through hung down over her face, while the old leather clothing remained cut in places, ruined by the rain but still holding together and covering her modesty.

Telana...?

Gnarl wasn't too sure, was it really her stood there. Her posture looked tired, maybe even injured and taking a moment to rest after the battle. The whole ambience of the moment was sounded by the rain, Gnarl taking a moment to think, stepped out into the rain, leaving the dry inside to suffer the cold drenching water that was the rain full of this land.

Crouching beside one of the dead he lifted the axe from his dead grasp, his hand falling to the floor. He felt he could have made as much sound as he wished, she couldn't hear him over the rainfall; but he took his time anyway.

Her head finally raised, the first bit of movement since he began approaching her through the gravel field of dead bodies. It was a scary silence as he pushed Stoney even deeper into his pocked, he couldn't afford for him to slip out and get lost amongst the rest of the gravel.

Then as if she could hear him approach, her posture turned to face his direction with her long hair hanging lose and shrouding her face; she slowly curtained it open. Mustering a smile as her nervous eyes locked onto his, she awaited his first move contemplating what he would do or say. Gnarl feared he did not truly understand the look that came his way, never completely trusting the stranger come ally. His hand gripped his new axe tightly, he had to be careful once again, yet his face reflecting his concern smiled back as he tried to hide his uncertainty to their position.

Then, her only weapon dropped to the floor, the well used dull metal blade landed with a slap as it struck the rain sodden ground, and her face somewhat relaxed with that same shy smile towards him.

"I thought you were gone..." She shouted through the rainfall.

"I thought you were dead?" Gnarl replied dropping his vigilant guard as his tense pose relaxed. His face, now with streams of rain pouring down his cheeks and running off his chin like a minor waterfall. The heavy downpour was quickly becoming a storm and waves of rain began to shift in direction as a gust blew across the courtyard.

"I thought I was...I must have passed out. But when I came to I was alone..." Telana spoke almost hesitantly as she wandered up close to him. "I grabbed a sword...and wandered back out, it's like they all killed each other?"

Gnarl looked at their feet once again, the many dead men; full of fatal wounds, ripped open and gored to death in a variety of manners. How had they both been so lucky? It seemed unlikely, but then again it seemed even more unlikely that she could have just arisen from her state and killed all those men.

Gnarl attempted to look down at her side. "Your wound?" He questioned as he tried to see the previous injury, to which she quickly covered with the palm of her hand.

“I’m not as bad as it looked…I’ll be ok.” Her voice trembled ever so slightly with even more uncertainty.

Their eyes continued to focus onto one another’s questioning their intensions, thoughts and incentive’s. Gnarl was sure she was hurt bad, but in all the commotion he had never witnessed the actual wound, merely the blood that seeped through her fingers. He had felt concern for her before he left, should this position really change his mind of that?

The momentary silence was more unconvincing than the last one, but Gnarl felt tired of this place, the large portcullis was raised and the gateway gaping open ready for their exit. Maybe she hadn’t told the entire truth, maybe there was something more to her than what she was ever going to admit. Yet right now, she held no weapon, nor did she threaten him as they faced one another, alone.

“Let us leave this place…I do not wish to join the aroma of death.”

Telana managed another smile, and as quickly as that, they both realised that this was the end of their fight. They may not have embraced or celebrated, but just leaving this place alive was good enough for them. So, with a more relaxed demeanour, and full of relief they walked out of the castle grounds together.

The thunderous rain would continue, their escape a slow and tiresome affair that would not see them pursued. The further away they got, the heavier the rain seemed to fall and the darker the cloud full sky became. The wind picked up considerably, the view before them unclear and the walked path became almost invisible beneath the mush of rain sodden grass and mud.

Was this Gnarl’s new life? He hoped it would have more in store for him than just rain, every inch of his body was water logged, and his every step seemed to slump and squelch as he came to a stop. Telana beside him, he turned around to face the once bright castle to which he had arrived in this mysterious place. Now it looked truly dead and void of life, the dull and dark shadowed structure remained a prominent feature of this land and it would take some time to escape from its aspiring towers, but he knew one thing; this was the last time he would lay eyes upon it.

Gnarl opened his eyes to the morning sun, having taken shelter under a broad oak tree from the wind and rain, he hadn't slept very well. The large ground foliage around his position was enough to break the wind and give him some peace from the storm, sat peacefully on the edge of a forest path.

He rubbed his eyes gently as he adjusted to the light, his hair and clothes still damp he felt it sticking to him as he adjusted his sitting position.

"Gruagh...." He moaned as he struggled to shift his clothes, the leather peeling off his skin with each tug; the soaked in rain a real pain in the ass.

"Good morning." A familiar voice sounded before him.

Gnarl looked up properly and there before him sat Root, his long and loyal feline friend who had taken far too long to find him.

"ARGHH!!!" He cried out in shock, his hands waving around as he rolled over and tried to gather himself up to his feet. "A TALKING CAT!"

Root sat bemused by the situation before answering with the solution.

"She's not here...She left some time ago."

Gnarl looked around, his surroundings of greenery and growth natural but lonely; bushes to his right, a path to his left and the large Oak tree sheltering the small area in shade. Telana was nowhere to be seen, and only Root, the same cute black and grey cat sitting before him upon a sizeable rock to keep him from the mud.

"Where did she go?" Gnarl questioned confused.

"Hopefully a long way away from here."

"Why would you say such a thing? You did not see what we had to go through to get here!"

"Nor would I wish to Gnarloc. Your journey so far has not been an unpleasant one and it is my job as your friend to ensure it improves significantly."

"I do not understand you."

"I found you last night, as you both sheltered beneath this tree, the weather was...distasteful to say the least and I felt impressed that you had survived without my guidance. Then I realised who you were sleeping next to..." Root's voice trembled a little as he got serious. "I would never have believed she was here if you had told me...You must stay away from her Gnarloc, she is pure evil.

A woman she appears to be, but once she recovers from the restraints that had weakened her for so long, she will become what I knew her as. The...Destroyer of Worlds. We, we in our attempt to free you have released her upon this world...the very power that destroyed mine..."

Gnarl approached and then knelt before Root, looking directly into his oval shaped eyes and did not need to ask if he was serious, he could see the pain hidden beneath the soft exterior of his small cat face and soft fur.

"Such a power cannot be described in such a small space of time...There is so much to say, so much to explain why we should leave this world and head to another."

Gnarl picked up Root and placed him on his shoulders as he stood up tall and looked outwards from the Oak tree. Did such a beautiful world deserve to be left alone? Did Gnarl need to run away again? No, not this time.

"Then why am I still alive?" Gnarl questioned as he looked down at Stoney now in his left hand.

"Your messenger to the God's doesn't tell you very much does he?" Root mocked as he adjusted his sitting position on Gnarl's shoulders.

"No...But he always has a plan. If he wanted us to leave this place he would tell me. Let us follow the path Root, maybe it will have a surprise ending for us."

"Alright...But let me be very clear here Gnarloc...If it turns out this rock is just a rock, and you're talking to yourself, I'll be very upset with you."

Thread Title: The Gnarled Roots of Osiris
Judgment Type: Full Rubric
Participants: Shinsou vaan Osiris and Gnarl & Root

Please PM me if you would like any more commentary on any further topics.

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Plot: 21/30

• Story- 8/10

Shinsou: You spin a really great adventure, that, though it is long, really grips the reader and wants them to keep going. It is actually the right length for such an epic as this, and in all effect could be made even longer. It has good moments of tension and builds well, and though perhaps is somewhat sudden with the revelation that Atlas is actually Shinsou, this in itself definite aids the potential for futher stories after. A really great introduction to such an interesting character.

Gnarl: Likewise to Shinsou the reader definitely has the sense that this is the opening story to a whole set of adventures from the outset, which in effect it is. All of the characters the reader meets are well constructed and aid to the overall story. For all the sense it is believable, and definitely captures the attention of the reader, from beginning, through the complex middle and out to the end.

• Setting- 7/10

Both: Both of you had varyign strengths in setting, and weaknesses, which will be detailed after, however one point to definitely highlight before that is your consistency with one another. You began with different people, but when you got to the portal your writing smoothly came together and you wrote in a collaboartive fashion, constructing a really good scene in a completmenary style.

Shinsou: For want of mentioning begin to end, you do create a very good backdrop in post 1 with "nothing" and then going to "light," and then finally opening on to the Kokushi itself. There is a firm sense of the character behind it, placing the reader into Atlas' shoes, and showing what he can see as he comes to, which is exceptionally powerful (see character, persona). Weaknesses in this point, however, mostly dwell in the realm of what else you could do to improve from this point - there was a very good base for description but definitely you could begin to pull in some alternative senses, colours etc in further parts aside from the beginning to continue this strength.

Gnarl: Throwing the reader directly into the thoughts and situation, you open in a cell, wherein there is a great deal of rich description ("outstretched shadow of the bars," post 3). You continue to use such as the thread goes on, though an upkeep as good as one as you start with would benefit you. Try also to bring in some techniques such as similies to aid you further also.

• Pacing- 6/10

Shinsou: Pacing was more or less very steady and good throughout. There was a lot of conversation and minor adventure in this piece, and so the pacing needed a consistency that you stuck to well. It could have picked up somewhat when you had the change of Atlas into Shinsou himself, but Gnarl actually sped this forward in his post following.

Gnarl: The fight in post 16, was when pace really picked up, and up to then it was balanced and even, so very good. Shorter sentences perhaps would help to make it faster even more so, but else you picked up the pace exactly when it needed to. Thick chunky paragraphs also are sometimes a little difficult to read, especially with so much going on so try to use shorter sentences (such as "Then, boom," in post 16) to really pull out all you can.

Both: Other than these suggestions for speeding up the pace when it needs it, you wrote very well together and pulled the pace back down in steadiness at the end (or should I say "the end?").

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Character: 20/30

• Communication- 6/10

Shinsou: You have two definitely characters, or rather, personalities, that come out of character for you. There is the obvious person we start with, Atlas, then Shinsou who has his memory back. There is a difference between them, from the meeker Atlas, (“Thank you…” post 2) to the more headstrong Shinsou who has a definite sense of power about him ("For that, I congratulate you," post 15). There is a consistency between the two in each of their own posts, and it is especially strong when Shinsou makes his own mind in the end and becomes something encompassing both Atlas and Shinsou in posts 24-25). There could actually be more distinct difference between the two and a more obvious merger, but you have a very good stead.

Gnarl: Gnarl is made partly by his rough and direct way of speaking. There is not much use of communication within this thread for your main character, and a better balance coupled with action and persona would be good. The other characters you have (Stoney, Nius etc) have clear voices also, but more distinction between them would help. Try adding nuances and certain turns of phrase to really give your character a "voice".

• Action-7/10

Shinsou: There is less of a disctinction between Atlas and Shinsou when it comes to action. The majority of your actions have a purpose, which is always good, and are followed through with no empty ends ("waiting to be unleashed on command." in post 17). Overall you could have more of a personality behind the actions - in this case meaning habitual movements etc.

Gnarl: There is expresses a kindness to Gnarl, especially when concenred with Telena ("Gnarl replied upset by her hesitance," post 18). This couples well with his brutish strength and his fighting movements, that are all written with clean sentences and litle confusion. This judge really liked the way you used adverbs to pronounce some of your actions, but in general a higher use of communication and persona beside action could be used.

• Persona- 7/10

Shinsou: I did not notice too many uses of internal thought, though there were some definite moments of consideration of your character. The way he deals with the revelation that he is in fact the emperor Shinsou is perhaps a little fast and not quite realistic, but the rest is really good in expressing something of the persona. What was particuarly strong was the opening sequence of an 'where am I' type of scenario that from the outset gripped the reader and got them enticed with the entire story.

Gnarl: You have a fair use of internal thought that you use to bring across the idea of the 'inside Gnarl' such as his thoughts towards Telena and his calling out to her in post 26. There is an endearing sense of strong personality in some of your later posts, when for instance he considers what the portal is truly like, however more of these would aid your sense of persona if you had them from the beginning.
In future threads I am also looking forwards to reading more of Root's character. Super excited to see what becomes with that relationship.

Point for both: Remember that persona does not have to be direct internal thought, it can be musings and opinions on what is happening third hand.

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Prose: 18/30

• Mechanics- 5/10

Shinsou: For you spelling is altogether solid, as is sentence structure. You do have some punctuation issues, however, especially in concern to speech: in post 15, “Predictable.” Keats said" instead should be "Predictable," Keats said." Paragraphing is used not only correctly but very cleverly and I do really like the way you vary the length of them, making powerful points.

Gnarl: You have both some small spelling errors as well as some puncuation errors. In post 14 you use "their" instead of "they're" an abbreviation of "they are". Also in psot 14 there was some speech issues where "It's definitely the right time." He replied with a glare. ..." should be "right time, he replied ...". If you use a "he said" or "he replied" you should have a comma after the speech as it is part of the speech itself. Sentence structure was more or less good. There are a couple of moment when you have a little bit of clumsy paragraphing, but just make sure these are neat and adhere with most of the plot and pace and you will be in good stead.

• Clarity- 7/10

Shinsou: Clarity was not much of an issue here in standard terms. The only real negative thing this judge has to say is in relation to when Atlas changes to Shinsou - for a while when Shinsou is first "Shinsou" it is confusing to know what he actually wants. It is clear that he is not with Keats but on my first read I was confused and needed to go back to clarify this. Else, the story was very well written.

Gnarl: Not much to really say here. Very well written and actually pretty clear. I followed most things through, and though a couple of times near the beginning I did need to read back (posts 3 and 4) it became clear on the second read what you meant and proved to be due to the fact I had read too fast.

• Technique- 6/10

Shinsou: Overall you write extremely descriptively. There are some really great strong moments when you describe the battle and all the terror going on, and you have Shinsou still standing there stoically. There could have perhaps been more effort put into the pillar going through Shinsou and transforming him into the emperor, so there was something of an opportunity missed here.

Gnarl: A very good base from starting out from. You use a good amount of adjectives mixed with adverbs as well as colour and a couple of similies, with also some graet alliteration ("rattling room" in post 3). I would encourage more use of the latter two, a well as thinking about metaphors and imagery. Nothing jumped out at me as wondrous or captivating, most of the enthrallment was in the story itself, so definite room to grow here. But great base.

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Wildcard: 7/10

For pure story - awesome. That is literally all I need to say.

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Final Score: 68/100

Note on Spoils: Since this is a spell in itself and not a weapon etc that can be calculated at a cost, this is not something that this judge can directly assess cost of. For now it will not be able to be claimed but it will be placed to the attention of RoG and admin staff who may be able to assist.

Shinsou vaan Osiris receives:

• 1280 EXP!
• 200 GP!

Congratulations!


Gnarl & Root receives:

• 1190 EXP!
• 190 GP!

Congratulations!

** All rewards have a small amount of discretion added for one of the best "opening" threads by any character I have ever read.

Judge Quote of Note: "“After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” ― Philip Pullman

Extra Commentary on Spoils:
It has been cited by the staff that since this is a spell and therefore an ability it cannot be claimed as spoils. Please contact RoG on your level up.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Philomel

Extra Commentary on Spoils:
It has been cited by the staff that since this is a spell and therefore an ability it cannot be claimed as spoils. Please contact RoG on your level up.

---

No problem, Phi. I'll include it in my level one profile instead.

Thanks!

All EXP and GP have been added!