Prologue: Transcendent

[hg1m5]

Please read and give me your thoughts!

She dreamed...

A Fae dreamed. She dreamed she was in a city that was ravaged by war. People hurried through the streets, foreseeing more destruction. There were craters in the cobbled streets and many houses and stores were ruins. Bodies filled the gutters and walk-ways, flung about the ground like rag dolls, and the place smelled like decay, rotting flesh and human waste.

Suddenly, there was a long, strange sound that filled the air. The Fae looked up and gasped.

A huge ball of fiery clay was hurtling through the air. She watched as it made its way towards a pair of desperately running people, a man carrying a little girl. The Fae prayed to the Old Gods that it would miss, or that they would outrun it, or something.

The ball of clay hit with a deafening crash, and the Fae covered her eyes. After a few moments, she peeked through her fingers.

A man, hardly more than a boy, with white hair and golden eyes stood in front of the pair. In his hand was a staff, obviously a Fae staff; it glowed with a faint, blue aura and was carved with vines. A wide circle around him and the two people was clear, and then there was burning clay. The little girl looked up from her father's arms, eyes wide. The man looked up.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. The white-haired man turned and smiled, looking a bit tired.

"Your welcome. Now get somewhere safe." The man picked his daughter up and ran. The Fae took a deeper, better look at the white-haired man. Even in this dream, she could see his soul in his eyes. The soul of a great dog, strong and swift and loyal. He looked up at the burning sky and sighed.

"Eilert!" Both the white-haired man and the Fae turned at the sound of a voice. A great, armored man with golden hair, a great sword in his hand and the soul of a lion ran up to the white-haired man. His face was covered with sweat and ash, and his tears had left clean marks down his cheeks. He was several inches taller than the white-haired man, and perhaps twice as wide. "This place won't last much longer."

"I know," Eilert said softly; he looked and sounded very tired. "But we can't leave them." The armored man frowned down at him. "What?"

"You're doing something," the golden haired man said suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You sound tired." There was another crash far off in the distance, and Eilert suddenly doubled over, clutching his chest. The Fae watched as he fell to his knees, blood trickling from his mouth. His friend knelt beside him, a hand on his shoulder, looking anxious.

"You have to put down the field now, Eilert," he said quietly. "This place is lost. Skuran is lost."

"No," Eilert said weakly. "Not yet. I still have some strength left. One last spell."

"No! As your prince, I command you to stop!" The golden haired man snapped. Eilert smirked, which looked ghastly with his bloodstained teeth.

"You have no power over me, Sire. I will not let Skuran fall." There was another crash, closer this time, and Eilert gagged and put his hand to his mouth. Blood trickled from between his fingers. He leaned on his friend weakly, pale and bloody. "One last spell," he choked out, pleading. "Just one last spell. I can last one last spell, Rurik. Please."

Don't! The Fae tried to yell, but it was not her place. This wasn't a true dream; one she could bend to her will and influence. This was a premonition; something that has yet to come to pass, but will. She wanted more than anything for Rurik to help Eilert to his feet and lead him away. Skuran, wherever this was, was obviously beyond saving.

But Rurik sighed in defeat. Eilert stood, smiling swiftly.

"We can still safe them, my friend," he assured the prince. He lifted his hand towards the far wall, beyond which the great spheres of clay were being hurled from. He closed his eyes and mouthed something, and another crash came from beyond. Whether it was from the spell he was preforming or the one that was preformed, the Fae didn't know, but Eilert's face contorted in pain and he crumpled. Rurik cried out and ran towards him...

The Fae awoke with a shriek in her tree, then held her head in her hands and sobbed. Why was she cursed with these awful dreams? Why did it matter to the Gods?

You will go to Sion, the voices of the Gods whispered. You will tell the one called Eilert of the prophecy. He must come to us. The Fae wiped her green eyes of tears and pushed her honey colored out of her face, a new determination filling her face.

It will be as you command.

[riddled;;]

OH, this is a masterpeice! This has great imagery, it's as if I can see it all in my head. Great details, grammar, and plot! -I'm absolutely speechless-
I really want to hear the next part...!

[Nomnoms]

Not my kinda thing but this inspired me to write a kick@ss story thing I will post a prologue...

[Gorim]

The next chapter. Hope you like it, Rids!

--

Snow fell of the city of Sion, capital of the kingdom of Saradush. The castle made a strong, impressive silhouette against the horizon, along with the city skyline and smoke drifting from the chimneys. In the dirt streets, people walked at a leisurely pace through drifts of snow and children played and shrieked, and then were called to bed by mothers and, in some cases, fathers. They would eat their meager food rations for the day and go off to sleep on their hay mattresses, covered by threadbare blankets.

In the castle, life was easier, but still not ideal. Now, however, that was forgotten as the royal court convened and feasted. Bundled up in velvet and cloaks to banish the cold that blew in through the glassless windows, they watched with almost childlike attention as the jester juggled flaming torches with a remarkable grace. In contrast to the audience, his black hair was matted down with sweat from the proximity of the fire. His blue eyes, flicked with falcon gold, watched the torches almost lazily. His brightly colored clothing also contrasted sharply with the nobles around him.

He stood in a large stone room, flanked by two large wooden tables and facing a third. The tables to his right and left hosted nobles from all over the kingdom of Saradush, from the chilly mountains of Noa to the nearby ocean port of Skuran. They, like the peasants, were confined to the food rations passed down by King Sextus, and while they weren't pleased, they understood the importance of being rid of double standards.

At the head table, the king, his son, the Loremaster, and a woman sat. The king was tall and strong, if old, with close-cropped salt and pepper hair and sharp, cold blue eyes. He wore heavy velvet clothing, most of which was embroidered with gold and silver. He watched the jester with only vague interest.

The prince was a handsome young man with think blonde hair and the same sharp blue eyes as his father. He wore somewhat less gaudy clothing, but they were still very fine. He payed the jester no attention and continued eating, but also tried talking with the woman sitting beside him.

The woman was pale and beautiful, with long sable hair and a small smile on her face. Her eyes, though dark in appearance from afar, where actually fey eyes; mismatched emerald green and deep, dusky amethyst. She wore a purple dress lined with gold and jewels, with a filmy, iridescent cover. She had a thick, white fur cloak about her shoulders, and was pointedly ignoring the prince's attempts at conversation, watching the jester's performance with rapt attention.

The Loremaster was a small, decrepit man with slightly pointed ears and long, thin, white hair. He didn't watch the jester with much attention, having seen it all before. He wore long, plain brown robes and a black cloak about his shoulders.

With a flourish, the jester caught all the torches in one hand and bowed. The applause was uproarious, and the jester grinned.

"Yes, yes, well done, Eilert," the king said impatiently. "You may go." Eilert bowed and started towards the door, but instead of going all the way, he stopped and waited at the doorway, listening to what happened, as he often did in such courts. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

"We welcome you all to our court. We also welcome the ambassador of the Fae," the last word was spoken as if it left a bad taste in his mouth; everyone knew of the king's dislike of anything even remotely connected to magic. "To our court. Lady Veconia." A tall, eerily beautiful woman with green eyes that dominated her face, blond hair and a waif-like figure stood from her seat at a table to the side and bowed respectfully to the king, her filmy dress fluttering around her, apparently heedless to the cold. The court clapped a bit half-heartedly, but she didn't seem to notice, or mind. She simply sat back down. Eilert was the last to stop clapping, and earned himself a few stares. Veconia smiled slightly.

"Now, I've come to an arrangement with the Fae, and-" But before he could say anything more, the door of the hall opened.

Two guards escorted a strange woman that was plainly Fae into the room. Her feet were frostbitten and red, and she looked blue with cold; her only clothing a dress of what looked like vines. Her long hair, blonde to the point of being white, fell lank and straggly about her face.

Leading the guards and the Fae woman was Auren, the captain of the guard of Sion and the castle. She was tall and pretty, though her attractiveness paled in comparison to the nobility, jewels and velvet around her, and the fact that she, unlike those around her, was wearing stiff leather armor and two swords. Her brown hair hung loose to her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes flashed as she walked in. She saw Eilert and winked at him, but he didn't respond. He was too busy glancing questioningly at the Fae. She shrugged in a barely perceptive way and bowed to the king, and the guards threw the Fae none too roughly down onto the ground.

Lady Veconia stood, pale with outrage. "What is this?" She snapped in a voice that was accented strangely. "Have you had her this whole time, Sextus?" The guards hands moved to their swords as they glowered at the Ambassador, but Auren waved her hand irritably.

"She was found trying to sneak into the castle, Ma'am," she said respectfully. "Normally, I'd take her straight to the dungeons, as is the normal response, but since this is a special circumstance..."

The king nodded. "You did well, Auren." He turned to Lady Veconia, who was staring at the captured Fae. "What is this, Veconia?"

"I don't know, Sextus," she said quietly. "What is your name, Girl?" The captured Fae was silent. "Tell me." The Fae shook her head.

"I have been sent by the Gods, my lady." She said softly. Veconia went pale.

"What does she mean?" The prince asked curiously, turning to the Lore Master.

"The Gods, who are, as they are known to the Fae, The Lord of the Dead, The Knower of Names, The Lady of the Earth and the Dream Giver, are all connected to the Fae," the old man said, watching the Fae woman curiously. "They often give the Fae they are particularly attuned with quests. Such instances are rare, and often foreshadowings of doom."

"The man speaks the truth," Veconia said, eyeing the man with respect. "What is your quest?"

The court, and Eilert, stared at the Fae, who was still on the ground. She took a deep breath, and said, "I can only say to those involved."

"Then go to the dungeon," Sextus snapped. "And tell the guards when you're more talkative!"

"Sextus!" Veconica protested, but the guards dragged the woman out of the court, leaving turmoil behind.

--

Eilert and the Lore Master, his guardian, sat in their quarters. The castle was still whispering about the Fae, and Eilert and the Lore Master weren't an exception.

"Why wouldn't she be able to tell people who she has to talk to?" Eilert asked.

"Perhaps the Gods told her not to," the Lore Master said.

"She looked tired," Eilert said quietly.

"Yes. Quests given by Gods are not easily ignored. The compulsion to fulfill them is often uncontrollable. It twists the mind into believing that fulfilling it is more important than food or rest." Eilert frowned, then got up.

"Do we have any extra food?" He asked. The Lore Master nodded towards a cupboard.
Eilert got a basket and stopped in front of the cupboard. "Fae probably don't eat meat do they?" The Lore Master only smiled slightly. "Yeah, they're probably vegetarians... They eat bread though, right?" The Lore Master chuckled. "Thanks, you've been very helpful." Eilert piled some fruit and bread into the basket and hurried out of the room, leaving a rather amused Lore Master behind.

--

Eilert crept through the dark dungeon halls of the castle. The dungeons were damp and darkness clung to the walls and corners like mold. The light coming from the torches that were perched on the walls did little beyond making the darkness more prominent. He hurried down the halls, feeling seriously uncomfortable. Being underground made him feel ill.

He poked his head around the corner and saw a guard standing in front of the only occupied cell in the castle dungeons. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

The guard slide down the wall and into a slumped sitting position, snoring. Eilert smirked and hurrying over.

"You're a Transcendent?" The Fae's voice came from behind the door as Eilert took the ring of keys from the guard's belt.

"Promise you won't tell?" Eilert joked as he took a key and tried it out. It didn't work.

"I promise," the Fae said seriously. "Why are you here, Boy?"

"I brought you some food," he said, finding the right key and sliding it in. "And my name isn't
"boy". It's Eilert." He opened the door and when he stepped in with the food, a thin claw of a hand came out of the darkness and grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged his face close to the Fae's.

"What did you say your name was?"

"Eilert." Eilert said slowly, shocked. The woman let go of his shirt, staring in shock.

"Eilert. A mageling." The Fae said softly. "Listen to me, mageling. The Gods came to me and showed me a dream; a vision of the time that has yet to come." Eilert swallowed nervously. "The Gods came to me and told me to come to Sion, and give you and the prince a message."

"Me and Rurik?" Eilert asked dumbly.

"You are to go to the Fae Wood, to the Sacred Grove, and speak with the Gods." The Fae said. "You cannot refuse. This is a task given to you by the Gods. You and your prince are bound to this task now." Eilert blinked, then handed her the basket.

"Do you still want the food?"

OOC: I made a few tweaks. Rurik is now blonde, because that's how I picture him.

[hg1f2]

Pretty story, but something is bothering me... hmm. Well anyways, like nomnoms said, you've done what all god writers should do--inspire, so although some of it does seem a little... well I dunno, but anyways I'd give it a B+

[riddled;;]

O:
You'd give her only a B+? I'd give a A, hands down for sure! Keep going, Gorim!
I love the plot and the suspense!! I wants moree..!

[cinder]

(Maybe its just me being jealous that Gorim has come up with a good plot that involves the Fey World, that made me give a B+ I dunno, I suppose as the story is released, Ill prob grow to love it as I always do when it comes to any good book...)

[riddled;;]

((Hahaa, I'm pretty jealous too! Such skills!))

[Gorim]

Eilert closed the door slowly behind him, leaving the Fae to tear into the bread and fruit with wild abandon. He stood in silence next to the still snoring guard, trying to understand the new, vague tug in his soul towards the south.

Quests from the Gods are not easily ignored, he remembered the Lore Master telling him. He supposed that the quest was now his to do, and no longer a burden to the Fae woman. He sighed, but before he could do much else, the sound of footsteps came from down the hall.

Eilert whirled, looking for a hiding place, but even if he found one, he wouldn't have had time to get to it, because at that moment, Prince Rurik and Auren rounded the corner.

They'd changed clothing since the court had ended; neither wore the gaudy clothing they had mere hours ago. Rurik wore dark pants, soft leather boots, and a red shirt embroidered with gold colored thread, the colors of the royal house, and had a sword with an elaborate hilt at his side. He walked with a simple, heedless kind of arrogance.

Auren wore a white shirt, dark standard guard pants and boots, and a simple sword with a leather-wrapped hilt. Her dark brown hair was loose and she walked with a brisk, relaxed gait.

However, Eilert immediately found two sword tips pressed against his throat, and he raised his hands in surrender.

"Jester?!" Rurik asked, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I got lost," Eilert said glibly.

"You got lost," the prince asked skeptically.

"Yes. The castle's an awful big place, Sire. But if I may, what are 'you' doing here? With Auren? In the dark? Together?" Auren snorted with amusement and lowered her sword, but Rurik didn't seem amused, and his sword continued to press against his throat.

"What? No! Of course not!" He snapped. "Keep your jokes for the court, Jester!" Eilert rose an eyebrow.

"Rurik, the guard's asleep." Rurik blinked, then lowered his sword slightly.

"You're sure?"

"Completely." Rurik grinned and lowered his sword.

"Brilliant. Sorry about that. Had to save face. Better to er on the side of caution and all that," he said briskly, clapping Eilert on the shoulder.

"Yeah; couldn't have people thinking your aren't a prat," Eilert said sarcastically. Rurik grinned.

"Glad to know we shame you. Can't even be considered your friends in public." Auren said with a sigh. Rurik rolled his eyes.

"You know that's not it," he chided, walking over to the snoring guard.

"We hurt his face." Eilert said solemnly, and he and Auren collapsed into giggles.Rurik ignored them.

"You said you found him like this, Eilert?" He asked, turning to his friend with a raised eyebrow. Eilert nodded slowly. Rurik didn't know that Eilert was a Transcendent, and as much as Eilert would like to tell him, there was little chance of it in the near future.

Rurik surveyed Eilert with probing eyes, and for a brief moment, Eilert thought that, just maybe, Rurik knew what he was. Rurik sighed in an almost disappointed way and turned to the door of the Fae woman's cell.

"Very well. I want to question her further. Won't be but a moment." He went into the cell and closed the door behind him.

Auren and Eilert stood in the dark hallway, on either side of the steel cell door, the only light coming ,dim and flickering, from a torch a few feet away from them on the wall and the only sound coming from the snoring guard. Eilert felt distinctly awkward. Though they'd known each other for awhile, he wasn't good with girls one-on-one.

"So..." He said slowly. "How's the guard business?"

"Well enough," Auren said. "King Sextus changed the orders of what to do with a suspected or known Transcendent."

"Oh?" Eilert asked hopefully.

"We're to kill on sight." Eilert's heart sank. He searched for any clue to Auren's thoughts on the subject in her eyes or on her face, but found nothing. The cheerful woman could be very closed off when she wanted to.

"Why do you think he did that?" Eilert asked, if only to fill the silence.

"I... I think he's scared of Transcendents," the captain said slowly. "They have a great deal of power, and I don't think he likes the thought that unknown people could have as much power as he, if not more."

While Sextus didn't seem like the type to be afraid of anything to Eilert, he thought that the answer was reasonable enough. Before anything more could be said on the subject, however, Rurik walked out, looking grim and carrying the basket that Eilert had carried the food down with. Eilert closed the door quietly as Rurik turned to him.

"What did she say?" Eilert asked Rurik, leaning against the cell door.

"A few things. First..." The prince held up the basket. "Got lost, did you?" Eilert feigned amazement.

"The guards must be kinder than-"

"She told me it was you..." Rurik said reproachfully. Eilert, certain that the Fae could hear their conversation, rapped his heel irritably against the steel door.

The action made more noise than he thought it would, and the sound boomed through the halls of the dungeon. Eilert winced, and
Rurik snarled, "You buffoon!" The guard, who had been sleeping peacefully, jumped at the noise and started to wake up. As he shifted, Rurik, Eilert and Auren froze. Eilert saw Rurik stare at the man, and had the impression that Rurik was doing some very quick thinking.

"What do you think you're doing, Man?!" Rurik snapped angrily, throwing the basket into the darkness and taking a more aggressive stance. The guard's eyes shot open and he scrambled to his feet, looking horrified.

"Sire! What are you doing down here?" He asked, saluting.

"Is that any of your concern, Guard? You should be lucky I didn't simply report you to you commanding officer!"

"I-I'm sorry, Sire!" The guard stammered. "Forgive me!"

"Just get your replacement, and count yourself lucky I'm in a good mood!" Rurik snapped. The guard hurried away down the hall, so desperate to get away that he apparently didn't realize that he was leaving them alone.

Once the guard was out of earshot, Rurik turned to Eilert.

"What did she tell you?" He asked urgently.

"That the Gods required my presence at the Scared Grove. And that I couldn't refuse, because it was a quest of the Gods." Eilert said.

"How did you know she-?"

"She told me the same thing. That you and I are supposed to go to the Sacred Grove."

"Are you going?" Auren asked, causing the two men to jump and stare at her like startled cats. Rurik glared.

"Of course not!" He snapped.

"What?!" Three voices, two coming from Eilert and Auren, the other coming from inside the cell, echoed through the halls.

"Rurik, a quest from the Gods isn't something you can blow off," Eilert said. "Can't you feel it. That... urge? To go to the Fae Wood?"
A flicker of doubt passed over Rurik's face, and Eilert knew they were feeling the same thing. Then Rurik waved his hand.

"We'll be fine. Come on, before the guards return." Knowing Rurik, and that words meant nothing to the man, Eilert followed Auren and Rurik down the halls to the staircase leading to the main floor of the castle, painfully aware of the deathly silence coming from behind the steel door of the Fae woman's cell.

[riddled;;]

Ohh! And their quest begins...!
Keep going, Gorim, it's getting really good.

[Gorim]

Over the next week, Eilert was plagued with dreams. At first, they were only vague callings; a distant voice calling his name. But slowly, the dreams became distressingly vivid. He wasn’t sure whether Rurik was suffering from this visions as well, but over the course of the week, he had seemed paler and sleep-deprived.

That night, Eilert dreamed he was standing in front of a great keep. The ground around him had pits that were filled with darkness sprinkled with stars, and the place was deathly silent.

Eilert blinked, and then, standing before him, was a figure. The being, for lack of better word, was neither man nor woman. It simply was. It wore a long, grey robe and had white hair that brushed the ground behind it. In contrast, it had dark grey skin and golden eyes, and the necklace around its neck was strange; a circle of bone with string bound throughout it into a pattern; the string was dotted with beads of glass, gems, bone and wood. It was what the people of the Noa region called a Dream Catcher.

Hail Eilert. The Crossroad. The Guardian. The Protector. Those are your names in the realm of dreams, A dry, expressionless voice echoed through the landscape. I am called Imoen, Destri, The Maker of Prophecy and Dream Giver. The being sighed, which was a sound so mournful that, as it echoed through the landscape, the very dream itself seemed to sigh in regret. Time is running out, Eilert. You must hurry. Come to us.

“Us?” Eilert asked. His voice sounded strange and hollow in the silence.

Yes. Us. The Gods. Something is rising, Eilert. She is almost here. Your friend is in grave danger, and there is only one way to help her.

“Who?” Eilert asked, feeling the urge to go south pull sharply and painfully at his heart and soul. “Auren?”

Perhaps friend isn’t the right word. You will know her when you see her. She Who Comes has her eye on your friend, Eilert. If She takes her, it will be all the more difficult to banish Her.

“Banish? Banish who? To where?” Eilert asked angrily, his frustration getting the better of him. He probably should be more reverent to the God of Dreams. The God rose an eyebrow coolly, obviously not pleased at the insolence.

Nephele. The Dream Giver said simply. Now, wake up. Tonight is the night you come to us.

Eilert woke with a start, gasping for breath and trembling. The moon trickled in through the glassless windows, pooling on the stone floor like lakes of silver, glinting off of the many vials and flasks that littered the tables of the room Eilert shared with the Lore Master.

Eilert got up slowly and crept to the trunk at sat at the foot of his bed. Reaching under it, he yanked out a fairly large leather satchel. Carefully opening the trunk, he began shoving clothes into it, glancing over at the sleeping form of the Lore Master every so often. After he’d put a fair amount into the bag, he got up, then, considering it for a moment, threw a few spheres in for juggling and a pack of cards. Content, he snuck across the room, opened the door to the hall, and slid into the hall.

As he went down the hall, he considered his dream with more thought. The God of Dreams himself (the people of Sion called him Imoen, unlike the Fae or other human clans of the world of Saradush) had come to him and demanded that he go to the Sacred Grove. That was a fairly good indication that the Fae woman’s plea was true.

He thought about the name the God had given him. Nephele. It didn't sound familiar, but the way he talked about her gave Eilert a chill. Perhaps the library would have something.

He walked quickly down the halls of the castle, encountering no one. Peace was making the guards a bit lax, so he had no trouble getting to the library.

The palace library was filled with books, and was a fairly large, circular room with rough wood tables and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with uniformly placed, leather-bound books. Each book had its place, and was kept in that place. Candles in small glass containers usually filled the room with a very dim light, but now they were out.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Eilert walked over to a table and picked up a candle. He scowled at the wick and a flame burst into life. Smiling in a self-satisfied way, he went over to the books, careful to keep the flame away from them.

He found a few old books that had promising titles, but concrete. As he was walking out, he double-taked, wondering if he'd seen correctly.

A book was lying on a wooden table. He'd passed that table before, and was absolutely certain that the book hadn't been there. Frowning, he walked up to it and held the flame close, to read the title. It had nothing on it but a strange insignia, a circle with a five pointed star in it. Curious, he opened the book.

Inside was page after page of strange words, runes and stories. Looking at the book, Eilert had the startling realization that what he'd been doing hadn't really been controlled magic. It had been subconcious, like humming a melody without knowing the words.

This was real magic. It was like magic was clay and these words helped shape the raw energy into some beautiful and exact. He read one that had a picture of a candle next to it, and whispered, "Shirak."

Every candle in the library lit in an instant, and Eilert grinned, turning back to the book eagerly. He had no idea where it had come from; King Sextus obviously wouldn't have a book of magic in the royal library, but still.

He took a chance and looked through the stories that were farther in. Most seemed more like fables, written in Common. But a few were tales that rang of truth. These were about the Gods and Goddesses of the realm.

As he flipped through the pages, he stopped and turned back, wondering if he'd seen what he thought he had. On one page, with a picture of a pale woman standing in front of thousands of people, was the heading "The Fall of Nephele".

He plunged into it, knowing that this would bring answers.

The Goddess Nephele was a goddess worshiped mainly by the Skuranese people, back when there were less cities and more clans. Nephele was the goddess of ambitiousness, injustice and inbalance, all things abhored by the Old Religion, as it was called by the book. She convinced her people, who trusted her completely, to wage war against the other peoples of the world, and through them, she waged war against the other gods.

The Gods, such as The Dream Giver, fought back mercilessly. Their people completely destroyed the Skuranese, and broke the entire country down into a single city, which was now the city of Skuran. The Skuranese surrendered their city.

After this, the Gods and Goddesses cornered Nephele and chopped her body up into six peices. Her head, her torso, each arm and each leg were hidden in different parts of the realm of Saradush, for fear that she could return.

Eilert closed the book sharply. So the Gods wanted him and Rurik to go to the Sacred Grove so that they could get or hear something that had to do with Nephele. Perhaps she was returning? She didn't seem like a particularly nice Goddess, so Eilert hoped that wasn't the case.

Placing the book reverently into his satchel, he headed out of the library, leaving the candles flickering behind him.

[riddled;;]

Ohh! The villian is introduced! I want to find out even more especially what will happen when the guards, or whoever finds out first, spots the lit candles!