Dark Messiah (A Circles of Time tale), 1st Silence: Lull
Rated R


	"No matter where you are...humans are all
	 connected."
					-Serial Experiments Lain


	Greetings.
	His lordship Chaos here.
	Welcome to a new world and a new tale, one that like all others 
is but one small part of an even greater saga. The tale you are about 
to read is but one of a saga of many stories, a story told through 
many eyes. It spans thousands years and focuses on the souls of those 
who shall shape the world's history and its destiny.
	Time is the only thing in this world that is relentless, 
unforgiving in its onslaught and indifferent in what becomes trapped 
inside its continuum of past, present and future. When the boundaries 
of linear time and space are crossed, lines must be drawn between 
those involved before a paradox swallows up everything into oblivion. 
When everything comes full circle.
	It is time that we are here to speak of today.
	I am but one author in this saga called Circles of Time. Many 
characters within this story are my own, but belong to an even greater 
and grander tale to which I have had the honour of being included in. 
It is thus that the "Dark Messiah" trilogy holds fragments which, left 
unto themselves, make no sense. If you seek answers to questions in my 
tales, I ask you to continue with the rest of the Circles of Time 
story.
	The Sailor Senshi are the children of Naoko Takeuchi. Other 
Senshi, other mages, and other nemeses belong to the ones who make up 
the Circles of Time creators. Yet I have my own children in this new 
world, ones who live and breathe and wield their mystic weapons upon a 
once beautiful planet called Aurora. There lies my heart and my soul 
within this story.
	If you wish for my characters to find a new time and place 
within another story, I ask for your permission first. From myself, 
and from those who have seen the Circles of Time unfold since the very 
beginning.
	Sayonara....

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



	Darkness has fallen. I open the door:
	And lo, a stranger in the empty room --
	A marvel of moonlight upon wall and floor...
	The quiet of mercy? Or the hush of doom?

				-Walter de la Mare, "Unforeseen"
		
	It was war.
	The last battle was upon them.
	Ranks upon ranks of Earth's last battalions had assembled in the 
fields of Vlatmere, the castle just in sight from the top of the 
hills. If they failed here, if they fell just as their comrades in 
arms had through countless other provinces, and even planets, then 
they were all doomed.
	Many of them were nervous, uneasy, morbid. The chances of their 
survival in the face of an enemy who took no prisoners and left 
nothing untouched were next to none. Better to flee and take their 
chances living as refugees in some godforsaken cave or forest.
	And many more were wearing faces of dark determination. If there 
was nothing to lose, then hell itself could be damned as far as they 
cared. If they were to die here, then they would die taking as many of 
those hellspawned creatures with them. For even if the chance of 
survival was close to nothing, it still was not nothing.
	The hope was still there for them to cling to.
	That hope of the men, and even of the women, gathered there for 
the last war was embodied in a young man standing at the front lines, 
the one destined to lead them in this final hour.
	"I don't see Morgana anywhere," came a voice in behind him.
	He smiled bitterly. "Naturally. Why would she have any reason to 
come to the front and lead her army to glorious victory when she has 
the Mistress of Silence at her beckoning?"
	That managed a slight chuckle from his friend.
	"It won't be long now," Frederic stated. "I don't exactly think 
you have enough roses to impale everyone with."
	He nodded. "That's why I have the sword."
	Even more than a mere weapon, the sword in his hands was 
symbolic of the one who had led these armies before him. The one who 
had created this great empire that the Mistress of Silence was so bent 
on wiping out.
	"Any regrets, Frederic?" he asked.
	Frederic grinned, a savage smile appearing from beneath helmet 
and armour. The arrow in Frederic's bow was knocked, ready to be drawn 
back and then unleashed at a moment's notice. "None come to mind. Even 
if I die, so long as Vlatmere is protected I will regret nothing on 
this day. And you...Lord Magellan Endymion?"
	Lord.
	Ruler.
	A reluctant acceptance at first, but now he was the only reason 
their forces had survived so long after that fateful battle which had 
claimed their King's life.
	"I will regret nothing," he stated, his knuckles tightening 
around the sword he held firmly in his hands. "I refuse to let Death 
come and take me from this life today."
	A shrilling howl was lifted up among the ranks of their enemies, 
one that could have shattered the daylight.
	Magellan gripped the hilt of the longsword, eyes narrowing, the 
core of his very soul glaring at the charging forces of darkness. 
Indescribable creations borne of unnatural nightmares, hellish to lay 
eyes upon and ferocious epitomized with just a glance. The army of 
Silence came down the hills to meet them, a swarm of frenzied beasts 
that were once human, but had now sold their souls to a devil.
	That beautiful face...he wanted to see it once more. To feel the 
warmth of her smile, and the soft caress of her hands. To live another 
day with his beloved Senshi, he would protect her.
	"Myung," he whispered. "My Venus...."
	He would protect them all.
	Suddenly the blade's sleek and narrow form rippled, the metal 
morphing and pulsating as if it were alive. A geyser of molten grey 
spewed from the hilt, flying wildly in three arcs of watery tendrils 
which coiled around the blade of the sword. Liquid hardened back into 
solid metal, the sword blade now having tripled in its size. 
	His hands were tingling as he felt the flood of magik flow into 
the hilt, the grip of the sword itself changing into something larger 
and easier for him to grip. The prince's eyes slowly looked up the 
newly forged blade which had responded to the calling of his soul.
	What was once a slender longsword had now become a broad-sided 
and double-edged weapon that stood taller than he did. Down along the 
centre ran runes which openly displayed the sword's name to all who 
were close by.
	Excalibur had reawakened.
	Frederic was breathing hard beside him. His childhood and most 
trusted friend raised the bow, aiming the pronged end of  the arrow at 
the nearest charging beast. "Now?"
	Eyes of a blue that could only be seen at the beginning of a 
storm narrowed. If that girl in Vlatmere castle was indeed the Messiah 
of Light, then all his own hopes rested in her. All he could do here 
was buy Myung, and the young girl named Serenity, time.
	Time before the Armies of Silence marched across Vlatmere and 
wiped out the last pillar of resistance. Time to find the hidden magik 
laying dormant within that young girl and unleash it, to save them 
all. 
	Everything had come down to a matter of time.
	And time was running out. 
	For a moment, the prince closed his eyes. A wave of magik flowed 
out from his body, an entity appearing and consuming his form. He had 
once sworn to never use it again, this creation once forged by the 
powers of blackest magik.
	Or was the dark power it held merely sleeping?
	He had heard Merlin speak of rumours of this armour being not 
possessed, but neutral in accepting who would wear it. Emotions became 
amplified, ambitions realized within its power. Its shadow of darkness 
became the magik of the one who wore it.
	Magellan's body was lifted into the air for but a heartbeat as a 
skin of shadows flowed out from the folds of his earthly armour, 
consuming the metal and devouring it completely. Everything turned an 
earthen mud brown, shimmering like the living entity it was. Pauldrons 
and gauntlets which curved and shone like the bone they were forged 
from reached out and wrapped themselves accordingly, beautifully 
ornamented with unreadable runes.
	"I thought you swore to never use the dark armour again," 
Frederic muttered, voice still tense.
	He grimly stared out at the rampaging lines of creatures closing 
the gap between them. "I did once. But it saved my life the last time 
I fought the Mistress of Silence, and whether or not I trust it, I 
need its powers in this battle."
	The armour was alive.
	And in order to stay that way, it would keep him alive too.
	Magellan's blue eyes faded, the colours now a shade of brown 
that matched his armour. They were now one once more, and he could 
feel the power flowing through it.
	The creatures of the silence were almost upon them all.
	Abruptly the armour rippled, flowing around his skull and 
hardening to create the perfect mask. His eyes were barely even 
visible, but they burned with determination.
	"Now," he stated.
	Despite the weapon's enormous size, Magellan wielded Excalibur 
with astonishing ease. He swung the oversized blade over his head, 
holding it there with both hands. And in not a word or shout, but a 
bellow, the call to charge was made.
	His soldiers were mere footsteps behind him as he drove forward 
into the advancing rows of unnatural beings. Eyes bulging and glowing 
yellow, bodies with multiple limbs and fur and claws and fangs. It was 
almost as if hell had spat up its prisoners and let them run free here 
upon the Earth.
	Magellan gave a loud shout as he brought down the sword on a 
downwards arc, letting the massive blade cut a gaping hole through the 
first creatures who tried to tear his body apart. Blood spilled, 
splashed across his face, dripping down his armour and his weapon.
	Something leaped up from the moving mass of creatures, blocking 
the sun from his sight as it pounced upon him. He could only watch, 
wide-eyed in horror as the beast descended, ready to rake its claws 
across his chest. Suddenly an arrow shot through the air, its pronged 
tip burying itself into the beast's skull. With a howl, the creature's 
flight twisted, and it crashed down upon its own fellow monsters.
	He whirled and saw Frederic already knocking another arrow to 
let fly into the ranks of the army of Silence. He didn't bother 
looking back to try and let their eyes meet. The prince raised his 
sword and cut through the masses of darkness once more.
	Humans and beasts were meeting in a blood-soaked line, the one 
effortless charge now becoming thousands of small skirmishes between 
each other. Magellan pushed through as many as he could, cutting 
gruesome path through the very heart of their numbers.
	"Damn!" he hissed, blocking the claws of yet another beast.
	Moments later, Excalibur bisected the thing from crotch to 
skull, a cascade of black ooze spraying upon him. These demons, these 
things once perhaps human; so that was the colour of their blood now.
	Magellan spun around, lobbing the head off another attacker. Yet 
another rose up from behind, lunging from an angle Magellan knew 
couldn't cover with his sword. He growled, summoning the powers locked 
within the armour, and drew from it a brilliant yellow rose. The 
blossoming flower was hurled with deadly force and accuracy, the 
sharpened and thorny stem burrowing itself into the monstrosity's 
skull with near disturbing ease.
	Blood gushed out, rich and dark and drenching his armour.
	The prince looked across the field of battle. There was only one 
soul he was intent on finding, one face among all the others he sought 
to confront. He had seen the Mistress of Silence at the front lines, 
lifting her hand to give the signal to charge. After that she had been 
swallowed up by her minions.
	So where was she now?
	The ground began to shift beneath his feet. Magellan nearly 
toppled over, barely missing the savage jaws of some winged beast. 
Excalibur was used as his crutch, keeping his balance as the earth 
started to crack apart.
	Up from the underground rose a dragon.
	Black like the iron metal it was forged from, this mechanical 
beast broke through the layers of grass and dirt to slowly tower in 
the air over him. The flight was graceful even with a creature that 
did not breathe. 
	"My god!" he exclaimed.
	Excalibur nearly dropped from his grasp.
	The iron dragon rumbled, the enormous and elaborate joints of 
its neck shifting to lower its head in reverence. And there he saw, 
atop the metal steed's head, the Mistress of Silence: a woman with 
long dark hair flowing out past her face, reaching down around her 
back. Piercing eyes of deep, evil violet stared down at him with a 
love for the destruction she was invoking.
	She wore a low-cut, dark dress adorned with strings of small 
black pearls draped around her dress and over her arms. On the centre 
of her forehead was the marking of a black star. And in her arms was 
held a wickedly curved blade attached to the end of a long, beautiful 
staff.
	The Silence Glaive.
	"Mistress Nine," he said coldly, rising to his feet.
	Noiselessly the joints of its neck moved, its head lowering her 
closer to where he stood. The number of attacking creatures around him 
had suddenly dropped. Magellan looked, and saw that he was being 
deliberately left alone. 
	All for her.
	Suddenly the iron dragon turned its head. What was left for him 
to stare at was an enormous gaping eye of the metallic beast. He 
stared at an enormous black hole, lit up like a spotlight. One 
enormous curved plate of steel slid up and retracted from covering the 
eye fully. The eyelids gone, he could see himself within the 
reflection of the iron dragon's eye. He could have walked directly 
into it.
	But what he saw terrified him.
	He stumbled backwards at the sight, in seeing that the dragon 
was looking at him. From one living creature to another, it understood 
what he was and what it was and what they both were doing there. It 
understood everything. 
	There was a soul within this machine. 
	The iron dragon was alive.
	The Mistress of Silence chuckled as she watched him. "Ara, you 
don't like my little pet, Magellan?" Her eyes glanced over to 
Excalibur. "You expect me to fear that? I killed the man who last held 
that sword in his arms. Your blade is nothing more to me than a mere 
toy."
	By his will, the helmet of his armour retracted. It was a risk 
exposing his face to someone like her; in that moment he did not even 
care about it.
	"We'll see about that," he hissed. Magellan steadied himself, 
taking up the sword of his fallen King once more. He held it at the 
iron dragon and its rider, summoning whatever magik he could think and 
even dream of. The living armour rippled, attuning itself to his every 
thought.
	The Mistress of Silence laughed from atop her iron steed. "You 
will die just as pitifully as your beloved Pendragon did. Surrender to 
the Silence, and join my ranks."
	He growled. "You spoke those words the last time we met in 
battle, Mistress Nine. I have yet to see you follow through with 
them."
	That managed to get a rise of emotion from her.
	And it was pure rage.
	Her hair blew out all around her form as her eyes began to flash 
a brilliant violet light. "You...dare you mock me?!" she shouted, 
raising a hand towards him.
	A blast of fierce magik erupted from her open palm, shooting 
through the air and then shredding apart the land as it impacted with 
the ground. The rampaging attack smashed itself against him with 
violent force, the earth cracking apart and venting red hot steam.
	Magellan slammed Excalibur's blade into the ground, letting the 
metal sink as deeply into the dirt as much as possible. His armour 
rippled again, veins of black liquid racing down the blade of the 
weapon. Six shafts of light from all around him exploded from the 
grasses, lines of light racing together to form a Star of David.
	And he was its centre.
	The light abruptly turned black, converging upon his armour. 
Everything was focused into his body. With a loud shout, Magellan 
pulled out Excalibur, bringing with it a wave of incredible force that 
distorted the very air. Amplified by the power locked within the 
armour, the magik crackled as it tore a new path towards the iron 
dragon.
	Mistress Nine swung her glaive at the shockwave, barely managing 
to cut it in half before it would have overtaken both her and the 
metal steed. The air was shattered, and instead of one deep cut, 
thousands of smaller wind razors were scattered in every direction. 
	Creatures from the Army of Silence were sliced apart by it.
	Soldiers from his own army shared the same fate.
	But as she lowered an arm protectively held in front of her 
face, he could see a small trail of blood running down the Mistress of 
Silence's cheek. Her shoulders were heaving, her eyes murderous 
towards him; that he, a mere mortal human, could wound her.
	"It won't be so easy this time," he panted, adjusting his grip 
on Excalibur. 
	She was the reason an entire planet had been reduced to lifeless 
rock. She was the reason the Golden Empire was crumbling, almost gone 
completely. She was the reason their King was dead. In that moment, he 
forgot about everything else but the war, and all its violence and 
bloodshed. All memories of his quiet moments with Myung were lost. All 
his promises to protect his castle, his kingdom, his world faded to 
black in the corners of his mind.
	The Mistress of Silence raised her glaive over her head, 
swinging the staff and pointing the blade at his heart. She was 
challenging him once more. This time there would be no stalemate. He 
had no intention of letting it end at that. Neither would she.
	Something happened.
	The armour started to beat to the rhythm of his heart.
	Magellan's smile suddenly grew dark, savage. The armour rippled 
once more, and then turned as black as a midnight without the stars in 
its heavens. Bone turned to darkest metal. The armour flowed around 
his face, covering the back of his skull but keeping his face exposed. 
Like living paint it kept to the edges of his face, lines swimming 
onto his cheeks, curving and pulsating to create incredibly complex 
runes that became etched onto his skin.
	Runes of dark magik.
	His eyes faded from brown to a shade of night. Magellan licked 
his lips, almost tasting her blood upon them. And then he issued the 
words that would end the Messiah Wars forever:
	"I'll kill you myself."


		DARK MESSIAH (A Circles of Time tale)

				First Silence: Lull


	He was upon the edge of the world, peering down at the realms 
lost beyond the vast cosmos. Standing in a shallow pool, he seemed 
unaware of the towering stone pillars and the curved archways that 
reached high over his head. Eyes closed, penitent to the fate that was 
his and his alone, he stood there amidst the waters, not lifting his 
head up to the panels of glass high overhead, which let a crescent 
moon shine its pale kiss down upon his face.
	Water lapped at his ankles, submerging his feet completely and 
with a cool touch reminding him of what it meant to be human. What it 
meant to feel, to experience emotions. How long had it been when he 
last allowed such a thing as emotion overwhelm him?
	He could not remember.
	Slowly his eyes opened.
	And they were black like the night, rich and dark as if the 
windows to his soul had drunk up every last shadow that existed. And 
then within the darkness something shimmered. Midnight eyes became 
like midnight heavens, glistening starlights captured within his gaze.
	His chin tilted up, eyes looking down. He was indeed at the edge 
of heaven, for half a step from his feet was where the pool ended, 
abruptly and neatly sliced apart. This boundary marked the end to the 
beautiful temple behind him, announced the beginning of the cosmos 
before him.
	The water was flowing swiftly here at the edge of heaven, 
pouring over the side where the glistening silver floor disappeared 
and faded to a black that was the darkness of the universe. He watched 
the water fall and churn upon itself, funneling closer and closer 
together until it was but a thick yet narrow cascade tumbling far far 
below him.
	All was silent despite such a volume of liquid being washed past 
him to the depths of a realm below. The waterfall never seemed to find 
a surface to crash against, for where there should have been ground 
there was a ball of light. Yet its light was not one but hundreds of 
tiny incandescent hues all shining together.
	The heart of the galaxy.
	From here, darkness was penetrated with light, shadows 
perforated with multitudes of stars. Together they formed 
constellations, an exotic dance of starlights that burned forever into 
this midnight world he stood at the precipice of.
	This was not another dimension he was staring into.
	It was not a mirror or an illusion.
	It was their galaxy. And inside of it, dozens of smaller star 
clusters, nebulae, interstellar clouds, planets and comets all 
swirling together to the sound of their own rhythmic heartbeat.
	Abruptly a flash of light flared up in one part where only 
shadows were meant to exist. It continued down its fated path, a tiny 
glow of firelight that was neither comet nor shooting star. He watched 
its movement, studied the trail it left behind that resembled the 
Aurora Australis.
	"So," he said quietly. "It has finally happened."
	He turned away; there was no need to see where this light would 
land. For centuries he had been awaiting this night. And now, at last 
it was upon him. So many events, so many souls. To keep the dream 
alive, it was time to protect the seeds of the people nearest to it. 
	He had been there almost since the beginning. And so there he 
would remain to see this through until the end. Midnight eyes with the 
glow of a thousand stars closed once more, robes of equal darkness 
rustling around his form.
	He was the Raithe.
	And it was time to set the future in motion.
	The revolution was at hand.


	Aurora.
	Sister planet to Mars, nestled between it and Jupiter. 
	A place where magik still existed and thrived on its serenity. 
If the Solis system we today call our homeworld were a storm, Aurora 
was its eye. A rare paradise planet, of majestic gardens and artistic 
beauty. War was not unknown yet had been forgotten. However, as many 
paradoxes hold true, to ensure peace, one must prepare for war. 
	He was such a soul. 
	Black hair the colour of raven's wing danced leisurely as he 
walked through the heart of a long summer's night. The air earlier in 
the day had reached a sweltering height, and now with the slumber of a 
setting sun, the temperature had dropped dramatically. 
	Wintry peaks still capped with snow even now, in the middle of 
summer, shimmered like a mirage of winter's eve in the distant skies. 
Before him, as far as the dark outline of the horizon allowed him to 
see, was the field of low forest grasses. A faint shimmer to the left 
betrayed the presence of a lake, almost hidden by the solitary cluster 
of trees.
	His eyes were lifted to the skies above, to where a moon might 
have been. Yet Aurora had no moon. Instead a fiery orb hung high over 
his head. Mars was in full view tonight, and behind that planet, 
Jupiter. Two planets to act as twin moons, giving light to the 
midnight heavens.
	A quiet smile was on his face as he closed his eyes momentarily 
and drank up the cool night air. Alone with just an entourage of stars 
above to guide him, and an unwalked path before him; these were what 
gave him excited breath to his life. The summer solstice, a time for 
solace and meditation, was something he had yet to not partake in. For 
two weeks the grasslands became his home, the rivers his bathing 
grounds, the trees and animals his source of food.
	A time to remind himself of who he was.
	To clearly reveal the bushido to him.
	To know that he was samurai.
	Twenty years of his life raised to become a warrior of honour 
and of magik. Childhood seemed so distant a memory for one like him. 
As long as he knew what the past was, it had been in training. To use 
his body. To use his magik. To use his weapon.
	The childhood name given to him had been discarded when he 
joined the ranks of other samurai, those sworn to protect Aurora and 
its royal family with their very lives. The only name he had ever 
known of himself, the only name he knew others called him by, was 
Khai.
	He lifted his head as a strange flicker of light from above 
caught his gaze. "A shooting star?" he wondered aloud.
	It had been an unusually bright flash of light, one that was not 
white, but blue and red all at once. As abrupt as it had appeared, it 
was gone once more. 
	Perhaps he had seen nothing after all. Shaking his head, as if 
to shake his senses back into himself, Khai took another step down the 
work cobblestone path sprawled out before him. "Baka," he muttered.
	Suddenly the grasslands around him erupted into a violent 
frenzy. The tempests exploded around him, nearly tearing his feet from 
their firm stance upon the ground. Arms went up to shield his eyes as 
a blinding light of blue and red engulfed his vision.
	"Na ni?!" he exclaimed.
	A shockwave rolled past him, the force enough to push him back. 
He bent his knees forward, bracing himself as the gales pushed against 
him. A growl escaped his lips, a mysterious rune burning crimson upon 
the back of his hand appearing. 
	A new aura of magik flared up, the ground just in front of his 
feet cracking apart. The open chasm spewed forth a wall of steam and 
dirt debris, and something else that if seen could have only been 
described as a living mass of fiery inferno. A barrier of pure magik 
enclosed itself around him, glowing fiercely as the shockwave 
continued to smash against his form.
	At last the onslaught died out, the winds dropping to a mere 
breeze, the light fading into nightly darkness once more. Khai lifted 
his head, lowered his arms. 
	"What the hell was that?" he muttered to himself.
	Aurora had never done anything like that to him before. Aurora 
had never done anything like that to anyone. There was something 
within that storm burst that echoed of magik. One he had never before 
encountered.
	Khai returned his wary gaze back to the wrecked cobblestone path 
in front of him. There was nothing to even hint that this explosive 
aura had occurred--save the large gouge in the earth, courtesy of his 
own defensive powers. The cluster of trees over to the left were 
untouched, their leaves leisurely rustling in the breeze. The mostly 
hidden lake shimmered as it always did. And the mountains with their 
snowy peaks remained still and unmoving.
	He reached out with his own magik, using the skills taught to 
him to locate something, anything. The presences he sensed were the 
ones identical to what he found before this storm of light. And then 
he sensed the Shadowmagik.
	He was not alone.
	"Who's there?!" he demanded, drawing out his weapon from the 
folds of his cloak and uniform. 
	It appeared to be nothing more than a metal pipe, rusty and just 
over a foot in length. Suddenly the piping grew longer, sections 
emerging rapidly from each end, the entire unsheathing of the weapon 
looking like a collapsible telescope in reverse. At last, two rounded 
edges resembling spouts emerged from within the final section of 
protracting metal, the weapon now just under seven feet in total 
length. 
	A shimmer of starlight ran along the side of the weapon, caught 
within the metal of the staff. In that split second where the 
starlight blurred the details of the weapon, the edges dividing each 
tapering section melted together to form one flawless, smooth surface.
	Magik was summoned, and abruptly each spout on the end of the 
weapon erupted in glowing balls of fire. This was his gift from the 
Weaponeers, his choice of destiny. In his hands was the Firestaff.
	Khai held the staff in front of him, eyes narrowing. 
	Whoever was using the Shadowmagik was obviously an amateur. The 
usage of such a power allowed the summoner to hide in the darkness, 
remaining completely undetected by even the most skilled of guardians. 
To sense the presence of Shadowmagik only worked against the one 
trying to stay hidden.
	They were lurking nearby, not close to him, but close enough 
regardless to make him very defensive. Khai glanced towards the lake; 
his newfound visitor was over there. As if to validate his discovery, 
a small but visible flicker of white light appeared through the trees.
	The firespouts went quiet and cold. He lowered his weapon but 
did not have it retract. The user of the Shadowmagik hadn't moved yet, 
remaining near to where that light had flickered into being. Khai 
approached the area.
	He didn't take slow, cautious steps.
	He ran.
	With an almost blinding speed that reduced his form to a blur, 
his steps along the crackling grass made no sound. To be trained as a 
samurai meant to learn the basics of many magiks; he knew a little 
Shadowmagik stealth himself. All too quickly Khai found himself at the 
edge of the treeline, and through the towering set of trunks he could 
see the lake.
	He could smell the clean water from here.
	The end of one firespout went off, blowing orange light upon the 
shrouded area. It was a brief explosion, one he timed to reveal unto 
his eyes the surroundings without fully exposing himself. He stayed 
close to one of the trees, listening for sounds through the burst of 
flame.
	Nothing.
	The Shadowmagik caster had already melted away into darkness. 
All Khai found himself sensing was the night and the trees...and the 
child. He turned, allowing his defenses to be lowered as the Firestaff 
unleashed one more breath of fiery light. In the ochre glow he saw a 
bundle of clothes, stirring very slightly as a tiny soul beneath moved 
around.
	Khai jammed one end of the Firestaff into the ground, the 
exposed spout erupting into a constant firelight. He knelt down, his 
stern gaze lost as he drew back the cloth covering the baby's face. 
She was beautiful, an angel as she slept soundly within this bed of 
garments and fabric. Lost amidst memories and time and destiny.
	"Kawaii," he said quietly, running a finger down her pale cheek. 
	She made a faint sound, eyes squeezed shut. Perchance to dream 
of the dreams little children have every night, and forget upon waking 
up. Of dreams he himself once knew and forgot when he grew up.
	"Who would leave a baby out here in the wilderness?" he 
murmured, taking another sweeping check of the trees. The lake was as 
calm as it had been all night, the trees whispering with the midnight 
winds as before.
	The mark of Saturn flickered briefly upon her forehead, violet 
and dark. Khai's eyes widened, a chill running down his spine. The 
world grew uneasy to him, ominous like a stormcloud rolling past to 
give hint to raging thunder not far off.
	A mysterious explosion of unknown magik. The appearance of an 
infant who bore the mark of a royal planetary family. And the presence 
of someone who used the Shadowmagik...perhaps just to ensure this 
child was found.
	There was something special about her.
	This infant girl.
	She cooed, eyes opening wide as she yawned in awakening. Her 
eyes were a beautiful violet, vibrant and innocent to a part of the 
galaxy that had seen so much war and turmoil. Hair a deep black, the 
infant girl stared up at the samurai. She smiled and began to laugh.
	Enchantment.
	That was the only way he could later describe it as he stared 
down at this giggling life. His hand reached out towards her, finger 
extending and allowing her tiny hand to grasp it. Locked tight onto 
it. Trusting him like he was her father. He couldn't leave her here to 
be alone. Of all the people who would never forgive him for such a 
thing, the one he would never be able to face was himself.
	"Oyasumi nasai, little one," he whispered to her.
	His lips kissed her forehead.
	She returned to her peaceful sleep and beautiful dreams.
	Khai gathered the infant girl up in his arms, adjusting the 
bundle of cloth she was swaddled in. One hand cradled her close to his 
chest, to the warmth of his beating heart. He reached out and pulled 
the Firestaff from the ground. The weapon retracted, the shaft cool 
despite all the tremendous heat it had generated. 
	Metal and magik merged as one.
	The weapon was slipped back into his cloak, both hands now free 
to keep the child close to him for warmth against the cool night air. 
There were many questions her presence left to be answered.
	He would take her to Aurora's royal court.
	An answer to tonight's events might be found there.
	"So much for the summer solstice," he muttered to himself, 
following the edge of the lake until he could see the cobblestone 
pathway again in the light of the orbiting planets. From there he 
turned the way he had first come, and began the journey back to the 
palace whose lord he served.
	And there in the shadows, the Raithe silently watched. Hands 
crossed over his chest, eyes of midnight heavens continued to gaze at 
the samurai and the child. "So, at last you have come here, Hotaru-
chan," the Raithe said quietly. 
	The Shadowmagik swallowed him whole this time, engulfing not 
just his aura, but his form also. The darkness claimed his body as he 
slipped into the shadows of the trees. Very soon, another not so 
different from him would appear.
	He would wait for her appearance.
	Time was on his side. 
	But time would conspire all too cruelly against her.


 	Silence.
	And yet there was sound amidst silence, the steady, horrific 
rhythm of a clock's pendulum swinging back and forth in unrelenting 
procession. 
	The floor rippled around her, seemingly nothing there yet with 
waves like water flowing all around, reflecting the stars above in the 
inky black. Another drop fell in perfect harmony with the pendulum's 
clatter, the epicentre resounding with the droplet as a small sphere 
of liquid was thrust into the air. The sphere hovered in the air, 
became crystal. It grew colours and clouds and life. And then it grew 
dark, swallowed up by a lifeless night.
	"Earth," she whispered.
	What was it she was seeing?
	Magenta eyes watched as the dim world around her melted away. A 
new world was left in its place. A silent city beneath the darkness of 
a night without moon or stars. The distant chiming of the eternal 
midnight at four in the afternoon. Dark and hazy, grey mist swallowed 
up distant city streets and high skyscraper rooftops.
	She found herself standing at the edge of a tower of metal 
girders and glass windows. And at last she understood the significance 
of where she now found herself.
	"Tokyo," she said quietly, turning her head.
	Deserted streets and empty roads. Everything was discarded, 
forgotten. No lights, no beacons in the darkness. Only the flickering 
streetlights give rise to some hint of life that still might have 
existed. A few buildings were broken apart, some streets spilt and 
shattered like a child's model.
	Mortal souls, fragile and only human, were laid to rest with the 
future's fate, hanging in the balance as their bodies hung in the air. 
Suspended as they slept. They looked so peaceful as they slept, 
awaiting an end to it all.
	The key-shaped staff was gripped a little tighter in her hands 
as she stood atop the roof of the observation deck of the Tokyo Tower. 
A flash of lightening. Her magenta eyes saw the cityscape through the 
pale light, more dark and empty than ever before. 
	She found herself in a deserted city.
	And yet something had changed within Tokyo.
	The town was decaying in a heartbeat, its structures just as 
deserted as the streets. The buildings turned old and dilapidated, 
their features crumbling apart. She could see cars were left 
unattended in the road, their doors left wide open. Papers flew lazily 
in the breeze. And the clock tower.
	"Na...ni?" she found herself muttering.
	The only tower belonging to this city was a radio tower, the 
Tokyo Tower. The very tower she was standing on. But this clock tower 
stood high over all other structures, a massive assembly of connecting 
girders, panels and gears. She could see it across the sea of parks 
and trees and small office buildings.
	The tower was forbidding, its colour a deep brown and grey 
ensemble. Large stone gargoyles, in their menacing poses and gnarled 
forms, guarded the ledges around the clock tower. Up at the top, two 
incredibly detailed hawk heads made from welded metal gazed at the 
city below dwelling in the shadow of the clock tower. 
	The winds abruptly ceased their dead calm, rising up to 
playfully let her long dark hair dance around her tall form and tanned 
olive skin. The folds of her sailor fuku took up the dance as well. 
Everything was coming to life.
	The lull before the storm.
	Every nerve in her body seemed on edge, awaiting with great 
uneasiness what was on the verge of coming to be. Of what lurked 
beyond that dark line of horizon she could barely distinguish from the 
surrounding darkness.
	It was chilling her.
	Setsuna shifted her stance, no longer leaning upon her key-
shaped staff. Pivoting back, she searched for a reason to exist within 
this place. Was it a dream? Was it a vision? Or worse, was this a 
reality?
	As she turned she suddenly discovered that she was no longer 
alone. Her guard went up immediately, the garnet orb at the top of her 
staff abruptly clouding over as she began to summon her magik.
	"Who are you?" she demanded.
	A blackened hood belonging to blackened robes hid the form of 
the one standing before her. The head was lifted, shadows masking all 
but a strange glow in the eyes. Something was glowing, shimmering. 
Like a thousand stars.
	A sleeve rippled as a hand went up and pointed behind her. 
Against her better judgement, Setsuna looked over her shoulder.
	Suddenly the city went into death throes. 
	The sky around the tower grew to a black void, darkened clouds 
swirling around the pointed tip of the clock tower. Midnight clouds 
began to be intermittently lit up as yellow and purple streaks of 
lightening flashed in the sky. The winds increased in intensity, 
growing to the deafening howl of a banshee called up from the very 
depths of hell itself. Papers were blown in every direction, bending 
and folding as they flew across streets, only to smash into the sides 
of buildings with such a force that they broke through the walls in a 
cloud of dust and rubble. 
	Lightening that was once limited to the sky began to attack the 
city, streaking down in jagged bolts and igniting everything they 
touched. Buildings began to explode from the impact of the lightening, 
ballooning outwards as their walls burst at the seams as windows spat 
shards of glass onto the streets. Fires broke out in all places, 
devouring the wind like sharks at a feeding frenzy. The fires grew 
into raging infernos, enormous fireballs forcing themselves down the 
streets, enveloping cars and street lamps and bus stops, and then 
violently spitting them back out. 
	"Na ni?!" she cried out in horror and disbelief, unable to do 
anything but watch Tokyo be devoured by a wave of pure destructive 
energy.
	A massive tremor echoed underneath the earth, and then the 
ground shifted, breaking apart into scattered plateaus resembling the 
pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Hot steam vented out from the openings as 
structures collapsed under the heaving earth, allowing themselves to 
be sucked into the searing red holes in the ground. 
	The Tokyo Tower shuddered beneath her feet, causing Setsuna to 
stumble backwards. With a cry she used her time staff as a crutch, 
keeping herself upright. The harbinger in black robes became a distant 
thought as she found herself fixated upon the clock tower.
	Then the clock's hands moved, the little hand followed by the 
large one. The larger hand moved on top of the smaller one. Ancient 
metal bells rang out in a shrilling sound that could be heard over the 
carnage occurring around them. The bells kept on tolling and tolling, 
ringing up the number of chimes with each toll. 
	On the deafening twelfth toll that marked midnight, a jagged 
bolt of lightening stuck the tip of the clock tower, sending out a 
blinding fury of sparks across the sky. The clock tower shook from the 
beating as supports and gears toppled over each other. The gargoyles 
suddenly breathed life and leaped from their ledges, screaming in 
unnatural fear. The hawk heads were blown apart as metal debris soared 
across the hellish skies, in their wake letting loose an explosion of 
violent and violet light. 	Thunder exploded throughout the sky as 
the clock tower itself exploded, bursting out at the seams. From this 
epicentre the shockwave radiated out across Tokyo, dashing whatever 
had survived into a million pieces. It overtook the souls of all the 
people who were hovering in the air as they slept. Everything that 
once lived and breathed was consumed.
	Nothing was spared.
	Setsuna screamed as the devastating wave crashed against her. 
The Tokyo Tower rocked wildly, nearly throwing her off the rooftop. 
She jammed her time staff into the ground, closing her eyes and 
focusing all her strength into the garnet orb.
	The smooth crystal glowed, a shield of light enveloping her as 
everything around, above and below where she stood was annihilated. 
The city of Tokyo shattered into shards of glass that flew past her. 
Within the shards she could see cascades of images of her world being 
devastated. 
	All that remained now was her and the darkness.
	Setsuna dropped to her knees, and then onto her hands. The time 
staff clattered against an unseen floor, where it laid unused. Sweat 
was pouring down her face, her entire body quivering and left chilled 
to the core of her soul. Bangs of dark hair clung to her damp 
forehead.
	"A nightmare," she whispered hoarsely, trying to calm down her 
almost panicked breathing. "This has to be...."
	Slowly she lifted her head as she sensed another with her in 
this place that might have been called oblivion. It was the harbinger 
in black robes, face still masked beneath the folds of darkness.
	A hand was stretched out towards her, palm opening up to reveal 
something she knew she must see.
	An image. 
	A face.
	A child. Her child.
	"Hotaru!" she exclaimed, pushing off the floor. Yet her strength 
from the ordeal was still drained, and she could rise only to her 
knees. Her eyes pleaded for an explanation, for a reason behind this 
hellish vision that seemed connected to her daughter.
	The darkness beneath her knees melted away to reveal a new image 
of space, a black night where Earth once was. Except now there was 
only barren fragments of rock, a newfound asteroid field still glowing 
red from the explosive power that had ravaged it.
	"What is this?" she whispered. "Why has this happened to Earth?"
	"...she has gone into the past..."
	That voice; it was the one that had always guided her, always 
whispered to her about the stream of time and space. A voice she knew 
so well yet remained uncertain of.
	"Onee-san," she whispered. 
	Her ethereal self, a future self merged with the very fabric of 
the continuum. The one who saw all that had, is and would be coming.
	"...your child has changed the past..."
	Magenta eyes widened in horror.
	Setsuna stared out at the remains of a planet she had come to 
call home. "I did it to protect the future, to protect her!" she cried 
out. When Nemesis had attacked, when the Black Moon war had begun, she 
had sent her only daughter into the past. It had been her dream that 
Hotaru might find a new and beautiful life in the past...and now that 
choice she made had condemned their lives in the future.
	The harbinger of black robes shook its head.
	Onee-san's voice returned. "...the future has changed. This is 
your future now..."
	"This can't be the future," she stated, clinging to her 
knowledge of the continuum, and the hope of so many souls. "The future 
I know shall be, the one I was a part of, cannot co-exist with...with 
this! The very paradox would tear the galaxy apart! Crystal Tokyo 
would have been destroyed the instant I sent Hotaru back!"
	She strained towards the cloaked harbinger, desperate to stop 
this future from existing. Surely the instant Hotaru had gone back in 
time, the paradox would have occurred and destroyed the world. Yet 
here she was outside of the continuum, unaffected.
	A soldier of time.
	"...time is not linear. It moves as a Mobius..."
	A contorted circle of time.
	"What can I do?" she asked. "If this is because of me, because 
of my Hotaru-chan, then there must be some way to stop the Earth from 
being destroyed."
	There had to be.
	If Hotaru had been sent back into the past and destroyed the 
timeline, then what was she doing here? The paradox would have been 
instantaneous--unless something had already been done in the past to 
alter this new horrific reality. 
	"...go back..."
	Setsuna gripped her key-shaped staff tighter, her knuckles 
almost white beneath her gloves. This had all been done to protect 
life, and in sending her own daughter back to the past, life had been 
condemned.
	"...go back..."
	Magenta eyes closed for a moment, and she took a deep breath. It 
was time to summon all the strength of both body and mind. Already she 
understood what had to be done. The point in time she would leave from 
to save the future didn't matter then; only the time she arrived in 
the past to stop the paradox from occurring.
	"...go back..."
	Already there was hope within her. If this was merely a vision 
and not a reality, then she must have succeeded in the past. Only now, 
when she was fully prepared as Sailor Pluto, could this jump across 
the timestream be done right. To protect her daughter, to protect 
their future, she would open the gates of time. And cross into the 
distant past, where the paradox had first occurred.
	The garnet orb upon her key-shaped staff started to pulsate in 
brilliant scarlet light, the entire sphere clouding over as the mysts 
of time poured across this realm she found herself within. The mysts 
swallowed her up, opening the portal.
	"Hai," she said quietly, with as much determination as she 
could. "I will go back...and protect our future."
	Crystal Tokyo would become a reality.
	A beautiful one.


	Earth was strangely quiet tonight.
	It could have easily been attributed to the establishment of 
peace across the Solis system. Begun with the now legendary Arthur, 
king of Great Britain, a reign of prosperity had slowly reached out to 
encompass the entire Earth. Not soon afterwards it had spread across 
space and planets. Aurora, sister planet to Mars, home of the ancient 
Weaponeers, had been the first to ally itself with what became a 
golden age of civilization. It was the time of the Golden Empire under 
Arthur the Pendragon.
	There was so much to hope for. So much to enjoy in the 
fellowship of other people, other planets.
	And yet this comforted him not.
	He was upon the parapet, sitting on the cold stone of its 
battlements, legs dangling over the side. Eyes the colour of the blue 
ocean after a storm stared down at the ground far far below. For a 
moment he contemplated throwing himself over, to feel the euphoric 
chance to fly with the wings of a bird, or even an angel. But common 
sense prevailed, and so there he remained.
	From here he could see but a fraction of the world that laid 
beyond these castle walls. Walls he had never been outside of for as 
long as he could remember. They were the stone walls of Vlatmere castle, 
pinnacle for the Eastern kingdom of Arthur's realm, presided over by 
Lord Endymion. His father.
	But that was becoming less and less a reality for them all. He 
closed his eyes, trying to find a way to numb the pain. His father was 
dying, and not even the greatest of the Healers could find a way to 
stop the affects of the black poison, let alone understand what the 
poison was in the first place.
	Now his father was bedridden, each day becoming less and less 
able to carry on with the duties of looking over the Eastern 
countries. He feared all too quickly the duty and honour of ruling 
would be passed onto him. To gain so much, but at a cost he didn't 
want to consider.
	He was still clinging to a hope that Lord Endymion might 
survive, that his father would live to rule over Vlatmere for another 
twenty years. 
	"I thought I would find you here."
	A new voice shattered the uneasy silence he was brooding within. 
	Magellan Endymion turned his head. 
	He was prince of twenty-one, already an envisioned hero in such 
an early prime of his life. The whispers of his name being spoken of 
within the walls of the great Camelot had not escaped his ears. Yet 
the pride he would have otherwise taken in such an accomplishment were 
weighed down by the mood he was under tonight.
	His friend sighed in exasperation.
	"Dammit, Magellan, you're no fun when you're like this! Look, 
you've even managing to depress me. Me! Frederic, the best archer in 
the country, the best drinker at any tavern and the best lover in any 
woman's bed."
	A smile creeped its way onto his face.
	Frederic walked up to the battlements, leaning against the stone 
he was sitting upon. Fiery red hair danced leisurely in the gentle 
evening breezes, only adding to Frederic's playfully pouting 
expression.
	"Tell you what," Frederic said, slapping him on the back. "After 
this session, I'll take you out to the nearest tavern we can find, and 
get you so damned drunk you'll even forget what it means to be a 
dignified prince."
	Magellan rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you, 
Commander?" Abruptly he paused, taking a more candid look at his 
friend. "What session?"
	Frederic gestured back to the access door leading back down into 
the castle. "Don't know. An emergency session was just called by the 
royal court of Aurora. Very hush-hush too. You need to be there."
	He swung his feet over the battlement, hopping down from the 
stone and onto the floor. "Why me?"
	Frederic's playful smile faded. "You know why," his friend 
stated evenly. "Don't make me humour your melancholy state, Magellan."
	They both knew why he had to be a part of this.
	His father.
	Magellan took one final glance at the world beyond Vlatmere 
castle, the only home he had ever known. The midnight heavens were 
clear tonight, hundreds of thousands of stars twinkling down upon 
them. And the half-moon was strangely radiant on this night, as if 
another form of magik was unfolding before their eyes, unseen and 
unknown. 
	He looked away, and followed Frederic down into the labyrinth of 
palace halls.


	Like everything in this vast universe, so many things can lie 
side by side and yet be so incredibly different. Stars belie the total 
darkness of space. The beauty of a shooting star masks the destructive 
power it holds. All things always have been, always shall be, bound 
together with cords both seen and unseen. Above all else, in these 
ancient times, it was magik which bound closest of all.
	So many perspectives and perceptions to be seen. Sometimes all 
one had to do was shift their stance, or turn their head, and the 
dichotomy could be seen. And upon the Earth there were many places 
which mirrored in smaller detail the great diametrics displayed 
through the cosmos.
	Far from Vlatmere castle and the Eastern provinces it governed, 
distant from the castles and towns and carvings of civilization, laid 
forests. Not one forest, or a forest. But *the* forest, a central 
cluster of trees where tens of smaller woods had at last merged 
together to create a profound tangle of roots and branches and leaves.
	Upon the Isles of Arana the forest had taken control. The isles 
were scattered close together and numerous, each one with its own 
clusters of woodlands. But as the centuries passed, the trees no 
longer remained content to be so close yet so far apart from each 
other. The forests moved and grew and eventually stretched out across 
the waters. Beneath the intricate maze of roots and small furry 
creatures laid pure ocean. Trees of different breeds intermixed until 
the scattered woods became a gargantuan forest covering both land and 
sea. 
	Many would have called such a thing impossible to occur.
	Many more would have gone to see these woods.
	But no human being ever went near the Isles of Arana unless 
absolutely necessary. Indeed it was a beautiful place to behold, a 
sanctuary of nature with more serenity and solitude than anyone could 
have imagined. Yet there was a reason the forest had become the way it 
was.
	They were Elven woods.
	And the Elvens were very particular about who crossed their 
borders. 
	As far back into history as can be seen, the races of humans and 
Elven never got along. Over the centuries humanity lost its close 
connection with magik, and coped with that by merging magik to 
science. To this day, if they still perhaps exist in some lost and 
long-forgotten niche on this world, the Elvens still have not forgiven 
humans for betraying the magik both races once held so dear.
	Powerful the Elvens were, and spectacular wielders of magik. 
Contrary to popular belief and folklore, the ancient breeds of Elves 
were not short pixies with faery wings or else the thin, blue-skinned 
gangly creatures. Granted the Elven had the pointed ears but that was 
the only real physical feature that separated them from humans.
	In regards to magik, however, there were greater differences. 
The Elven were skilled in wielding magik, whether it was for good or 
evil. Usually they didn't care; they lived to play games. Elven games 
in question are not role playing or board games. These games used the 
world and its inhabitants, played out in either staging quests, 
hosting battle tournaments, spurning on romantic triangles and 
anything else that piqued their interests.
	Years ago they had been quite the rivals with humans for 
dominating the planet. But with the coming of Arthur and the ushering 
in of the Golden Empire, the Elvens had retracted from the world of 
growing technology infused with magik. No longer was it a fun place to 
play; too many of them felt sick in seeing how the once pure magik was 
being diluted.
	And so the forest of Isles of Arana had been created as their 
domain, a place forbidden by all humans. Fiercely guarded, to enter 
the Elven forest of Elfhame meant death...or worse. Elven enchantments 
could be cruel things to live with.
	Yet it was the only way for her to reach her destination.
	There was no other place to go.
	At least it was silent here, except for the cold night winds 
whistling through the tall trees on either side of the clearing. She 
knew that they would not follow her into Elfhame, for fear of their 
own precious lives. But her life meant nothing to her now. All that 
mattered was the tiny life she gently clutched in her arms.
	The woman stumbled slightly on a root protruding from the 
ground, shivering as she glanced down at the warmly wrapped bundle 
pressed against her breasts before continuing haltingly. Here in the 
clearing she could see high overhead the shining half-moon surrounded 
by glittering stars. She kept to the edge of the clearing, and even 
moreso kept to the edge of the Elfhame forest.
	There was comfort in knowing that solid earth was beneath her 
feet, and not a tangle of solid roots; she had not wandered deeper 
into the woods. The woman looked up briefly, and shuddered as she 
leaned against the side of a tree, coughing even as she tried to 
breath.  Ahead, the clearing went on. Further to the horizon she could 
see where the tall grasses were swallowed up by the thick tree trunks 
once more.
	The woman whispered heartbrokenly, "Give me the strength...Let 
me go on." Weary eyes looked down at the precious bundle in her arms 
as she pleaded, "Please...oh please...."  
	She coughed again, and drew a racking breath.  The air was split 
with the sound of a baby's gurgle, and the woman looked down at the 
child, the weariness fading from her face as she gently touched one 
cold finger to the infant's face. In that moment as she gazed upon the 
baby girl in her arms, all hopelessness, despair and numb pain left 
her.
	"Yare yare. Now what the hell do we have here?"
     The voice came out of nowhere, and it was a proof of how 
exhausted the woman was that she did not jump in surprise. If anything 
she felt worse. She knew that accent in the voice, and recognized the 
one to whom it belonged.
	Elven.
	Slowly she turned her head, tired eyes coming to rest upon the 
young man seated leisurely upon one of the lower tree branches. One 
leg dangling over the branch, as if he hadn't a care in the world, the 
Elven looked at her with surprisingly indifferent eyes of creamy jade 
green. Jade eyes that betrayed the youth he represented. 
"Wh-who?" she whispered, staring at him, awaiting a verdict.
	He sat there, the moonlight shimmering off his long silver hair. 
Tall and wiry in form, adorned with a long-sleeved, if not Chinese-
style outfit beneath a black vest. Two golden rings dangled from the 
right ear, catching the light of the pale moon as he leaned to one 
side and dropped off the branch. Effortlessly he landed on the ground, 
just a few ominous steps away from her.
	"Elven--" The woman coughed before she could continue, and she 
tightened her hold on the child. "N-n-no...I-I was only--"
	"Only trespassing," he replied coldly. 
	He took a step towards her.
	For all the strength that had been drained away from her body, 
the woman bristled and looked every part a mother defending her child. 
Only this infant was not her own.
	The Elven chuckled, shaking his head at her. "I'm not going to 
kill you, woman," he said in an almost scolding tone. "You are dying 
as it is. I can watch your lifeforce slowly being pulled from your 
body as we speak." 
	"Th-then what do you want?" she demanded, relieved in once 
sense. She would die at his hands; she could read it in his eyes as 
well as his words. But what frightened her was the implication that 
she was dying. 
	For the sake of this child in her arms, she had to survive.
	The Elven brushed a lock of the blond hair that fell over her 
face, and lifted her chin gently. "You've piqued my curiosity. My only 
question for you is why you're here in the first place," he whispered, 
almost taunting her limited time. 
He stepped back and gazed down at the bundle the woman held so 
protectively in her arms. His jade eyes grew serious then. "And with 
an infant girl, no less. What? You didn't want to die alone, so you 
stole this baby to keep you company?"
	That last sentence was hissed from his lips.
	Winds started to rustle as Elven magik stirred.
	"No!" the woman protested. "I...I was taking her to GlenHawke!" 
	Abruptly the Elven rage died down, the winds dropping as well. 
She let out a visible sigh of relief, not ever wanting to experience 
firsthand the terrors of a vengeful Elven enchantment.
	Now the young male Elven seemed amused with her response. 
"GlenHawke?" he said with a laugh. "You crossed into Elfhame just to 
get to some place which doesn't even deserve to be called a village? 
You are more reckless than I thought; reminds me of myself in a way."
	He turned and leaned against the trunk of the nearest tree. 
"GlenHawke is but a commune, a hidden temple where a gathering of 
priestesses reside. The only reason you could ever have to go there 
would be to become one of them...and I sense no such magik from you 
that denotes a reason for you to join their ranks."
	The Elven youth seemed to take some form of humour in that, 
laughing to himself. At her expense no less. Abruptly he paused, 
glancing back at her. "Out of curiosity, how do you know of GlenHawke 
in the first place? Only mages and Ancients know of that sacred place, 
and they are very particular about whom they whisper that name to."
	Once more the woman's weary eyes drifted down to the near-hidden 
face of the swaddled child in her arms. The Elven also noticed her 
attention to the infant girl. His demeanor changed once more.
	"Who are you running from?" he asked. His tone wasn't demanding, 
yet expected an answer none the less. "Why would you risk your life by 
coming into our kingdom, into Elfhame, just for that baby?"
	She opened her mouth to speak, to try and explain despite her 
parched throat and cold skin. But she was unable to say anything. Her 
teeth were chattering as she half collapsed against the tree, the 
weakness she felt radiating from her tired face,
	The Elven was suddenly beside her, not as much cradling her as 
he was the child.
	"No...c-c-c-cannot make it that far," she rasped. "You--"
	She took a deep breath, drawing her last ounces of strength from 
deep within. "Take her to GlenHawke." She shuddered, as if the very 
thought of those she had left behind scared her. "Help...help me, 
please." 
	The woman coughed, and blood appeared at her lips. Her grip upon 
the child was lost, the sleeping baby now held in the arms of the 
Elven youth as her full weight went against the tree. Slowly she began 
to slide down to the grasses.
 	"T-Too late for me..." the woman said quietly, her voice a 
barely audible whisper. "Watch over her...p-promise me."
	And then, there was only silence once more.   
     The Elven knelt down beside the woman, the bundle in his arms 
stirring. He pushed back his bangs of silver hair, glancing at the 
child. The baby stared up at him, her blue eyes filled with innocence.
	He swore in his Elven tongue.
	How would he explain this to the others, that an old woman on 
the run from some unknown force had willingly crossed into Elfhame? 
And then, before she died, entrusted to him a child meant for 
GlenHawke? 
	It felt awkward for him to have a human infant in his arms. But 
she was awake now, and he could not ignore her wide, beautiful eyes 
staring up at him in naive wonder. What was so special, that the woman 
would risk leaving this human baby with a temperamental Elven?
	Suddenly he felt a ripple in the winds, the gentle midnight 
breezes picking up. An aura of magik was unfolding right in his 
presence--and he wasn't generating it. Eyes of creamy jade widened as 
he saw a marking upon the infant's forehead shimmer for but a moment 
in time.
	And then he understood.
	The magik this little girl held inside of her....
	The Elven youth's eyes narrowed as the magik faded, the baby 
drifting back to sleep. He turned his head up to the half-moon, and 
then looked at the direction of GlenHawke.
	A sacred place bordering on the edge of Elfhame, one which the 
Elven courts had agreed to leave alone because of their ties with the 
original, pure magik. The priestesses there were rumoured to be like 
the Ancients of Aurora.
	The baby girl cooed in her sleep.
	He looked down at her once more. "All right then," he said 
quietly. "I'll take you to GlenHawke. If not for the old woman, then 
for the sake of the magik you hold."
	No one would notice him missing for a few hours.
	He was notorious for disappearing like that.
	You'd think they'd keep better track of an Elven prince than 
that.


	"Milord, we are in visual range of Aurora."
	The king opened his eyes, which burned like blue fire. He was 
tall and dressed not in robes but in a royal military uniform, tight-
fitting and jet-black. He made no attempt to hide the longsword 
sheathed at his side.
	"I trust we have landing clearance," he said evenly, expecting 
the lesser officer to give him an agreeable response. He was not 
disappointed.
	"Hai!"
	The king glanced down at his own viewscreen, tapping a few of 
the buttons. Abruptly the floorplate before his chair came to life, a 
shaft of light moving from floor to ceiling. Within the light appeared 
an intricately detailed and fully rendered, three dimensional image of 
Aurora. Moments later the planet magnified, growing large until the 
image swiftly moved into the atmosphere, zooming closer and closer 
until it reached the royal palace.
	From there a full rotation of the palace was given. And at last, 
after ducking around numerous turrents and cross-supports that reached 
from one end of the palace to the next, the moving image came to stop 
at their landing pad. Two red arrows began flashing at their 
destination, each one accompanied by a scroll of information including 
data, coordinates, and other things he cared not to read.
	The bridge shuddered slightly as the ship began its descent into 
the atmosphere. "We are passing into Aurora's ionosphere," the 
helmsman reported. "One hundred-twenty kilometers from sea level. 
Course is steady, speed constant. We'll reach our landing site in ten 
minutes."
	He nodded. "Tell the assault crafts to hold their position at 
the following orbital coordinates," he said, punching up a series of 
axes and specific plot points.
	"Milord?"
	A frown marred his face. "The royal family of Aurora dislikes 
our military escourt tagging along to the surface," he said. "They 
have been very specific in the past about leaving the fighters here in 
orbit and not on the planet."
	Under other circumstances, he would have raised bloody hell 
about that, especially considering how abrupt this call to Aurora was. 
These ambassadorial visits disrupted his schedules immensely, that was 
for damned certain. And right now he would have loved to have shouted 
at the Aurorian King for pulling a stunt like this.
	Yet there had been something in the way their confidential 
transmission had occurred. That the Auroran royalty would ask for 
personal gathering of the planetary council had him uneasy. Aurora was 
not a place where war was a likely factor--but it was home to the 
greatest of mages and Weaponeers, the Ancients.
	Such power all concentrated within one place was enough to have 
him come here without very much of an argument. That was an impressive 
feat unto itself.
	The king glanced around the bridge of his royal transport as the 
ship trembled again. He did not worry about the atmospheric conditions 
affecting their descent. There was no need to. He trusted his crew to 
perform their duties perfectly, his pilots to fly the ship without 
incident.
	Yet they were not merely pilots on these interstellar ships. To 
be a pilot meant to simply drive a ship from one destination to the 
next, a living human working with a cold and artificial object. But 
this was not so. Pilots here in this Golden era of the Solis System 
were so much more. 
	Pilots were the souls of a ship.
	Symbiotically bound with their crafts, only ones adept at 
specific brands of magik could step into the "engine drive", and 
transfer the power of their bodies into the ship. The stronger the 
mind controlling the ship, the better its speed, agility and 
durability.
	Pilots no longer used the engine.
	They became the engine, a living force which moved the ship 
according to their will. The ship thus became no longer a piece of 
moving mechanical parts, but a living extension of the pilot who was 
willing the ship to move. The royal transport he was now on had not 
one, but four living engines to give added boost to the gargantuan 
size of his planet's flagship.
	The king stood from his chair. "Alert my Queen," he stated. 
"Have her and our entourage meet me at the loading bay. I trust they 
will have the usual reception waiting for us."
	"Hai," the officer replied. "Milord, a transmission is coming in 
from Aurora. The king gives you his greetings, and wishes for you to 
come to the court chambers immediately upon our arrival."
	He scowled. 
	What could be so urgent that it necessitated swift action, and a 
formal gathering of the planetary rulers? Although he had no proof, he 
suspected something to do with war. And the thought of battle excited 
him even more.
	The king left the bridge, accompanied by his two personal 
guards. They were like Aurora's samurai, sworn to protect his life at 
all costs--even their own. How ironic, though, that they could never 
defeat him in combat, even when he held back and they came at him with 
everything they could muster.
	With a hissing sound, the doors to the bridge closed behind him. 
A steady march led the small procession towards the loading bay, where 
his Queen would be joining him. His one hand moved to his side, 
gripping the hilt of his longsword. A masterpiece crafted long ago by 
the Ancients, something passed down his family for generations. 
	The crest upon the weapon was that of the planet Uranus.


	It had begun.
	What would have been expected would be seeing the highest 
officials of the planet already gathered in Aurora's royal court, each 
one seated behind stone pulpits and awaiting the beginning of this 
most urgent and unexpected session. But this was not so.
	Ambassadors, dignitaries and officials were nowhere to be seen; 
the issue at hand was far too delicate a matter to be handled outside 
of the ones present within these chambers. 
	The chamber itself was enormous, with two floors opening into a 
grand central area. The officials of Aurora would have been on the 
upper floor, their pulpits situated on the balcony areas. The lower 
floors, however, were left vacant, awaiting the royalty from the 
neighboring planets to join. This allowed for the main floor to be 
cleared for the speakers.
	One by one they appeared: the rulers of Mercury, Venus, Mars, 
Jupiter, Saturn and Pluto. Shortly afterwards appeared the kings of 
Neptune and Uranus. Neither one seemed pleased to see the other. Only 
the ruler of Earth, Arthur Pendragon, was absent.
	Rumours had it that he was detained because of more personal 
matters. The matters themselves ranged so much that it was impossible 
to piece together any reasonable explanation. However, a number of 
Arthur's presiding governors would be acting in his place. 
	A hush fell upon them all as the four palace samurai entered, 
each honoured warrior marching in perfect rhythm, dressed in their 
armour and carrying their weapons. These four men were the oldest and 
most celebrated of all the samurai, having proven their undying 
loyalty to Aurora's royal family more than once.
	Each had at least one scar to testify to that loyalty.
	The four samurai took their places before the dais where the 
King and Queen of Aurora sat, as well as their oldest son who was 
destined to one day inherit the crown. Large, flat cushions were 
arranged perfectly for the samurai, who remained in a kneeling 
position, their place before their sworn lord and master symbolic of 
their guardian duties.
	The royal families of each planet sat at their appropriate 
places on rows perpendicular to Aurora's. The Inner planets remained 
on the left, the Outer planets to the right.
	The image of Pluto's Queen abruptly flickered as she sat down.
	"I guess she couldn't make it after all," someone in behind the 
base of a pillar said quietly. "Ne, Khai-sensei?"
	Khai merely nodded to one of his proteges. "With such a great 
distance and short notice, I would have been impressed had she 
arrived. As far as I know, the Earth dignitaries will be here in 
projection form as well."
	Because of the vast distance between the planets, many times 
dignitaries from one world communicated to another with special astral 
projections. A combination of thought projection and computer 
enhancement, the person wishing a long-distance communiqué would focus 
their magik and project an image of themselves in the chambers of 
their contact. A specialized machine allowed the higher officials and 
royalty to perform such a task without exerting the tremendous amount 
of energy required for such communication.
	This was no doubt what had brought many of them here tonight. 
The fact that their king had personally requested for each royal 
family arrive here in person rather than via projection no doubt 
piqued many curiosities. 
	Aurora's king coughed, and motioned for the proceedings to 
begin.
	"Be careful," his student murmured to him. "Most of the people 
here are more concerned about politics than the child."
	He nodded. "Hai. Shogo-san, I thank you for being at my side 
here tonight for this."
	Earthen brown hair pulled back and tied in a ponytail, Shogo 
merely smiled. They were both dressed in the same style of samurai 
uniform, the type meant for formalities and not battle. 
	"Let's just hope things go smoothly," Shogo replied. "If her 
mark is what you say it is, I doubt the response from any of them will 
be pleasant."
	Khai looked down at the infant girl in his arms, her violet eyes 
staring back at him. It was then he realized that he was clutching her 
tighter than before.
	The Auroran king looked to them all, sighing from the burden 
about to be passed on to everyone in the room. "Good evening, my 
fellow kings and queens of the Golden Empire. You are no doubt 
wondering why we have urgently called you here in person for this 
private meeting."
	"The thought had crossed our minds, Rivend-san," Neptune's queen 
remarked. A number of the others murmured their agreement with her.
	King Rivend nodded. "Hai. I apologize for any inconveniences 
this may have caused you all in coming here. But I felt this matter 
could not be handled over a projection gathering."
	Khai's wandering gaze darted towards the Inner planetary row, 
where he saw two new projections taking their seats. 
"I recognize Sir Lancelot of Earth," Shogo said to him. "But 
who's the other guy?"
	Khai shook his head. "I don't know."
	The late entrance was noted also by Rivend, who looked directly 
at the two Earth representatives. "Arthur could not make it after 
all?"
	"My apologies," Lancelot said, bowing slightly. "He has...other 
pressing matters to attend to at Merlin's behest."
	Another series of whispers moved through the assembled royalty. 
For Merlin, confidante of King Arthur, was rumoured to be one of the 
Ancients. Perhaps even the greatest one of them all.
	Lancelot gestured to the newcomer, who was visibly uncomfortable 
in the presence of everyone else. "Magellan Endymion, acting in place 
of his father, Lord Endymion of Arthur's Eastern armies," the Knight 
Commander stated.
	"The court recognizes him," Rivend said, nodding towards 
Magellan. "I have heard many great things about your father, Magellan. 
You have my respect, and my sympathies for his plight. Please, sit 
down."
	Mars' Queen stood up from her place. "Now then, if the 
formalities are over, perhaps you can begin explaining why we are all 
here?"
	"Indeed," Rivend agreed.
	Abruptly the baby in Khai's arms let out a loud squeal, causing 
both Khai and Shogo to nearly trip over each other in an attempt to 
quiet her.
	"I thought you had given her something to sleep through this," 
Shogo hissed. "Or at least something to keep her sedate."
	Khai grimaced as he gently bounced her in his arms. "She must be 
fully conscious for me to reveal the planetary mark," he replied. 
Unfortunately his actions only encouraged her to giggle even more, a 
jubilant smile on her face as her black hair was tousled from his 
bouncing. 
	The king of Uranus was on his feet the instant he heard the 
noise. "What is this?" he exclaimed. "You would bring a child to these 
gatherings?" His eyes narrowed as he saw Khai. "And who are you?"
	Rivend cut Uranus off before any arguments could go further. 
"This is Khai, one of our most celebrated warriors. He is the one who 
trains all our samurai in the bushido."
	With no other option left, Khai stepped out into the court, 
walking towards his master's dais. The baby had stopped giggling; now 
she was looking with awe at all the new faces around her. Taking care 
not to jostle or drop her, he bowed to Rivend and the to the two rows 
of royalty.
	"I am honoured to be in your presence."
	Khai gestured to Shogo, who was never more than two steps behind 
him the entire time. "My best student, Shogo, acting as my second in 
these proceedings."
	Now it was Shogo's turn to bow, as protocol directed.
	"And the child?" Mercury's King inquired. "Is she yours?"
	A chuckle went up among the rows of royalty, that a samurai 
would bring his infant daughter to a high gathering of the royal 
courts.
	Khai shook his head. "Iie."
	"This little girl is the reason I called you all here," Rivend 
explained, making a subtle gesture towards Khai.
	He nodded, closing his eyes and focusing his magik. Index finger 
extended, he delicately touched her forehead, letting his powers 
ignite the spark of magik currently dormant within her. She seemed as 
surprised and awed as everyone else as a violet hue bathed the 
chamber.
	The mark of Saturn appeared.
	Khai smiled, his eyes still closed, and took his finger away 
from her. As he opened his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of the 
royal families losing much of their restraint and dignity. It took a 
good five minutes to calm everyone down.
	He handed her over to Shogo to be cared for, and retold his 
account. Of the strange pillar of light and wave of magik, of the 
mysterious person who used Shadowmagik, and of the baby girl he found 
by the lake.
	Everyone listened in silence, their full attention upon his each 
and every word. This indeed held dire implications for them all, and 
brought with it an enormous number of questions he knew he could not 
answer. For the Queen of Saturn had been barren for years now, and 
unable to have a child of her own. But with the appearance of this 
little girl, that condition seemed to have changed.
	And in the distant shadows of the court chambers, a tall young 
woman watched everything unfold before her. "Hotaru," Sailor Pluto 
said quietly. "At last I've found you."


	GlenHawke was silent in the early hours of the morning, as was 
to be expected of any respectable place in the dead of night. Here the 
forests were alive with magik--though of the Elven breeds. And thus 
here was the prime place for a temple of sacred magik to build its 
foundations on.
	It was an old temple, the wooden timbres appearing chipped and 
faded, no different from the surrounding trees of the region, while 
the sliding paper screens and roofing had lost their glowing stain. 
The land was rippled, moving over hills and slopes shaped by the 
mountain range close by; much of it was covered by vegetation. Hidden 
at the base of a lushly dense forest blanketing the mountain range, 
the temple's boundaries were open to the many wonders the outdoors had 
to offer. The trees were swaying and dancing to the music of the wind 
as the creatures of the forest roamed the expanse.
	It was nestled in here, between bluffs and mountains and Elven 
forests, where the Temple of the Holy Goddess laid. A place the other 
Ancients and mages had come to call GlenHawke.
	In truth this location would seem the least appealing place to 
establish a place for magik. Where the mountain ranges ended, there 
were bluffs hundreds of feet high above the crashing breakers of the 
water. And only part of the ocean waves could flow in tidal form 
against the land, for part of that watery world belonged to Elfhame. 
The Elven forest kingdom stretched up part of the bluffs and covered a 
small section of the lush mountain forests, as well as the Isles of 
Arana. But this world amidst the forests and mountains was charged 
with the natural magik of the realm, moreso here than in any other 
place. And this was an obscure region, ensuring a peaceful life for 
the priestesses who resided in GlenHawke.
	"Mother!"
	A voice broke the silence even as footsteps echoed across the 
cobbled stones of the temple courtyard. A lantern, burning with 
enchanted light that glowed a bright blue in the darkness, revealed 
the face of a young initiate, one who had just received the full robes 
of a Sister.
	"Mother, come quickly!" 
	The young girl had not gone far into the living quarters before 
she was confronted by the head priestess. The priestess was surprised 
to find their Mother already awake, and fully dressed as well.
	"What is it, Sister Rowyn?" The Mother asked, surprised at the 
usually composed Sister's urgency. 
	Such surprises seemed to be abounding tonight.
	"An Elfhame Prince, Mother! He's come here, and--" 
	The Sister paused, then whispered quietly, "He brings a baby, 
Mother. A *human* baby that he wishes to leave with us."   
	To say she was startled would be an understatement. The Mother 
gave a confused look in the direction of the temple itself, and then 
walked hurriedly towards the gate, followed by the two other Sisters 
who had appeared with her when they had heard Sister Rowyn's urgent 
calls.  
	The half-moon left a shimmer upon the cobblestones as they 
crossed the grounds, moving towards the front gates. There was a small 
assurance she found in knowing that barrier wards had been placed on 
the gates to keep intruders out. Yet she found herself uncertain how 
well those wards would halt the magik of an Elven prince.
	As they came closer, they could see the Elven youth standing 
there, a small but stirring bundle held in his arms. Interestingly 
enough, he was outside of the front gates.
	"Ah, good morning, Halefyne-sama," he said with a slight smirk 
on his face. "I trust I'm not disturbing your meditations."
"What is the meaning of this, Kakkyou?" Mother Halefyne asked 
sternly. "Have your kind kidnapped a child from his rightful parents 
again?" 
	The Elven's grin disappeared. "Don't give me a reason to start a 
war with you," he said icily. "It would take only me to wipe GlenHawke 
off the map--not that anyone would even notice."
	"They know each other?" Rowyn whispered to another Sister.
	His eyes darted down to the infant. "I'm doing this as a favour 
to an old woman who walked into Elfhame carrying this baby. She wanted 
the child to be taken here."
	That managed to catch all the present Sisters offguard, even 
her. Incredible how just once statement could leave so many questions 
in its wake. What was the woman doing in Elfhane? And why did she risk 
leaving a baby with an Elven prince? Even moreso than any other, why 
had Kakkyou, of all Elvens, even complied?
	"What happened to the woman?" Sister Karenal asked.
The expression on Kakkyou's face didn't change. "She's dead," he 
stated. "Rest assured though, that I didn't do it."
	By now, the forest would have already claimed her body, living 
roots seeking out and encasing her in wood to give more life to the 
entire forest.
	"Ah, I had wondered why you were still awake at this hour of the 
night, Halefyne," he remarked. "Nightmares still plaguing your world 
of quiet dreams?"   
	The Mother's eyes widened. "I had thought the legends of your 
kind's Celestial Sight were merely rumours," she whispered. 
	Again the dark smile of the Elven prince appeared. "You have 
much to learn from us. And, to date, you seem rather intent on 
ignoring the knowledge we possess."
	He touched the iron bound gates, which parted at his fingertips. 
The other Sisters backed away as he strolled onto the temple grounds. 
"Not bad for barrier wards," he remarked, pointing to one of the rune-
scrawled parchments. Abruptly the paper burst into flames, incinerated 
in a heartbeat.
	The Sisters began panicking.
	Halefyne remained calm--and stern with the Elven prince. "Give 
me the baby," she stated. "That is what you came here to do, Kakkyou. 
You don't need to be here any longer than either of us want you to 
be."
	"Agreed," he replied, walking over to her and handing her the 
bundle of cloths. 
	She could feel the infant girl stirring once more, a soft mewing 
sound from beneath the folds of fabric. Halefyne looked up, only to 
see the Elven prince walking out the way he came. Abruptly he paused, 
as if having an afterthought. 
	"Her name is Serenity," he added.
	"How could you know that?" Sister Rowyn asked.
A dark smile crossed Kakkyou's face. "My my, so inquisitive and 
untrusting, aren't we? Stop being so vocal for once, ladies, and 
listen. The baby told me herself what her name was. And for your 
sakes, I suggest you pay attention to her."
	The Mother frowned. "What do you mean?"
	"Why do you think I spared her life?" the Elven prince 
responded. "Why else would I have brought her here if there wasn't 
something special about her."
	Halefyne gave a confused glance down at the child, and then back 
up to him. But Kakkyou had had already vanished, not even the 
slightest trace of anything left to say that the Elven prince had once 
been there inside the temple grounds--save for a burned barrier ward.
	"I have always hated them for that," she said finally as the 
Sisters hurriedly closed the gates 
    "What, Mother?" Sister Karenal asked curiously. 
    "Their mysterious entrances and disappearances, and all those 
hints they will place merely to irritate!" she replied, though her 
mouth twisted into a half smile as she stared down at the baby. One 
finger traced down the infant's cheek.
	A sleeping angel in her arms. 
	Winds of magik stirred, and Halefyne's eyes widened as for but a 
brief instant, she saw something shimmer to life on the infant's 
forehead. The mark.
	This baby girl bore the sacred mark.
	A golden, crescent moon.
    "Is it true, Mother?" Rowyn asked hesitantly. "Shall the babe's 
name be Serenity?" 
	The Mother paused, then smiled. "He was telling the truth after 
all. Serenity it shall be." 
	Overhead, an owl briefly eclipsed the half-moon as it flew 
hooting through the night.
   

	Merlin.
	That was the name they called him by now, here on Earth, here in 
Camelot. Mage and Seer to the great Arthur Pendragon, it rumoured 
among many that he was really Lwellyn, the son of a faerie from 
Elfhame and her mortal lover. Other tales told of how he was Bard 
Llyoaen Wind-faire, and before that a man named Kylae of Dawnrawn. So 
many stories of his enigma; how he was immortal, could walk through 
walls, see the future, become trees and animals. Yet among some 
certain inner circles, it was spoken that he was one of the first and 
most powerful of the Ancients. 
	In another place beneath the midnight heavens that shone above 
the quiet Earth, he resided and worked diligently with the ancient 
magiks, learning and teaching at once.
	Dark tides were starting arise; that much Merlin found himself 
knowing. Something was pointing to an ominous storm in the future, yet 
he didn't know where or when it would take place. The visions told him 
enough: it would come.
	Whether he wanted it to or not.
	He was old in appearance, according to Earthian years at least. 
But the appearance was nothing more than that, a mere cloak so as not 
to betray the truth of what he was. What he was capable of. Fishbone 
white hair poured down from his scalp, creating a mane of pale white 
that draped down his back. The beard he wore was of the same colour, 
though not of the same length.
	In this place, in his studies, he was truly alone with his books 
and his magik. Uninterrupted he would remain always--unless Arthur 
came to see him, or called for his aide. Merlin had yet to not comply 
with Arthur's request for guidance.
	A tired and weathered face containing brilliant and youthful 
brown eyes looked out through the window, down at the splendor of a 
moonlight Camelot. It was a veritable city of lights, defying the 
darkness of the night, a small reminder of what Arthur had set out to 
do in establishing the Golden Empire.
	An end to war and suffering.
	For as long as could be remembered, the worlds of the Solis 
System were fractured and divided, each planet having its own distinct 
culture and people. And as long as could be remembered, there had 
always been strife between them. Each planet warred with themselves 
and each other for what he at least deemed absurd and foolish reasons.
	That had all come to an end with Arthur had become king of 
Britain. With a desire to unite all the people of the Solis System 
into one nation, one humanity, the Pendragon had begun a crusade for 
peace. That had been why he, Merlin, had joined the ranks of Arthur's 
Knight Commanders.
	And ultimately that was why Aurora, planet and home of the other 
Ancients like him, had been the first to ally itself with the rapidly 
changing Earth. 
	Merlin found himself smiling at the nostalgic memories.
	Aurora.
	Planet of the Ancients, the magi who had mastered their arts and 
powers of magik to utter perfection. They had used this magik to craft 
talismans and weapons unlike any other, deadly in battle, beautiful in 
form. This work had earned them the nickname of Weaponeers.
	With the backing of what was considered to be one of the most 
powerful planets, soon others began to ally themselves with Arthur as 
well. And thus the Golden Empire had been born. What followed was a 
time of peace and prosperity the likes of which had never been seen 
before. The development of maths and sciences exploded, as well as the 
exploration of the world of magik. Both were merged for even more 
incredible advances--though, Merlin ruefully admitted, that had not 
been to the liking of the Elven race.
	The quality of life was elevated to new heights as great 
advances were made by the Healers Guild through the use of combined 
magik and science. Even interstellar travel between planets was 
revolutionized by the development of the "living engine" system.
	There was so much to hope for.
	So much to look forward to for the future.
	And if that was the case, why did he feel worried about what the 
future held for himself, for them all. Something he couldn't shake, 
and it was becoming more active. A chill down his spine, a burst of 
sweat down his face, vague recollections of a dark dream.
	And he was almost certain that Morgana was a part of it all. 
Morgana, half sister of Arthur, a woman whose mind and ambitions had 
become as twisted as the fate she had in mind for Arthur and Camelot. 
	The Ancient mage found himself scowling the more he thought 
about Morgana. She was becoming bolder in her tactics, in her beliefs 
that it should be she who was ruling over the Golden Kingdom, not 
Arthur.
	A rebellion was on the verge of breaking out.
	That was why, under his advice, Arthur had not joined the other 
royal families on Aurora for that strange emergency meeting. The 
Pendragon king had other matters to attend to on Earth, and being away 
for even two or three days could cost them numerous provinces, perhaps 
even Camelot.
	Or at the very worst, the entire Golden Empire.
	Merlin sighed, rubbing his eyes, which were being weighed down 
by fatigue. This guise of an aging mortal was starting to become 
annoying, and the mage was sorely tempted to pick a more youthful 
appearance while no one else was around.
	Or was he really alone?
	Merlin's eyes opened a little wider as he sensed a new presence 
entering the room.
	Someone lurked. 
	Robes of darkness, smooth and glistening like silk, flowed 
around a human form like rivers of shadows. Slowly the stranger's eyes 
opened. And they were black like the night, rich and dark and becoming 
midnight heavens. Glowing starlights were captured within his gaze. 
	He carried with him a staff, its top armed by metal rings that 
chimed together as he rapped the base of the staff against the ground. 
Encrusted in the uppermost part of the elaborate ornamental top was a 
small garnet orb; beneath its smooth surface, a magik churned murky 
grey like mists and fog.
	"A distinct advantage of being an Ancient," the Raithe quipped, 
leaning against the shakujyo. "The need to either ride in or pilot an 
interstellar craft doesn't apply to us."
	"Teleportation is not exactly something we can do freely at will 
either," Merlin chastized him. "The levels of magik it requires to 
generate such a site to site transport are enormous."
	"Hai hai," he replied, waving it aside. "But let me remind you 
that you are the one who called me here."
	There was a brief pause between them, each one waiting for the 
other to start asking questions. Merlin was the first to begin.
	"I sensed a strange disturbance the other night," the mage said.
	The Raithe nodded. "Hai."
	Merlin scowled, having expected a more lengthy explanation. 
"Don't think you can fool me, Raithe. You're not telling me something 
you already know."
	Again he nodded. "Hai."
	His openness seemed to surprise Merlin. "And you're not going to 
tell me this?" the mage pressed. "We are both Ancients, both of the 
same blood and magik. There never has been a need for our court of 
Ancients to hide anything from each other."
	The Raithe turned his head, looking out into the night towards 
the silver glow of the pale moon. "There is always a time to try out 
new things."
	"Na ni?"
	He smiled slightly, though it was a melancholic one. "Gomen ne, 
Merlin. Our destinies from the start were meant to walk down different 
paths. So that the path I follow remains uncorrupted, from this night 
forward I cannot tell you everything I know."
	"It has something to do with that orphaned child found of 
Aurora, doesn't it?" Merlin said. "The girl who bears the mark of 
Saturn's royal family."
	The mage was trying to get him to tip his hand, making a gamble 
that the guess had been right. The Raithe could indeed keep secrets; 
that was a talent he was very good at. With an enigmatic smile, he 
lifted his shakujyo from the ground and began walking towards the 
doorway of Merlin's study.
	"I saw her there in Aurora," Merlin continued. "I saw her enter 
from a shaft of unknown magik, where a lone samurai took her under his 
wing. And I saw you there watching them both."
	The Raithe paused in his fleeting exit. Eyes of midnight heavens 
opened up once more. "Ara ara. Been spying on me behind my back, 
Merlin?"
	"My visions do not lie to me," Merlin answered solemnly. 
"Something dark is lurking on the horizon, and I have foreseen that 
you will play a part in it."
	His smile faded, a grim look of determination replacing it. He 
rapped the base of the shakujyo on the ground once more, the chiming 
of the rings echoing across the vast expanse of books, tables, and 
both magikal and scientific instruments alike.
	"She is the beginning and the end all at once, Merlin. I warn 
you now: do not attempt to defy what I have set out to do. The 
consequences of your interference would be far more serious than you 
could fathom."
	As the echo of the metal rings faded, so too did the Raithe.
	"Where are you going?" Merlin asked him.
	The Raithe glanced towards the mage and fellow Ancient. "Back to 
Aurora," he answered. "A young woman has come a long way to get here. 
And it would be rude of me not to greet her."
	A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he spoke a name to 
no one but himself before he was taken back to Aurora.
 	"Sailor...Pluto."



				BEGINNING OF THE END....




	THANKS:

	-To Sailor Skuld, who gave me the chance to be a part of Circles 
 of Time. Your patience, wisdom, and chiding when I strayed from 
 the path of linear time have been of more value to me than you 
 know. 

	-To Todd Foster, my fellow Messiah Wars conspirator. Without 
 your input into how our tales would merge with each other, I 
 doubt the Dark Messiah trilogy would have been as vibrant as it 
 has become. Many thanks go out to your creative and cooperative 
 talent.

	-To Fiona Lim. Originally designated to do the Messiah Wars, 
 parts of her own manuscripts from this saga have been adapted 
 and rewritten into Dark Messiah. To write this story without 
 thanking her would be wrong, and so I humbly acknowledge what 
 she has contributed to the Messiah Wars, whether she knows it 
 or not.




 

 

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