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"Malachi!" Ivory screamed. In horror she watched as the ivory haired seraphim-like boy was thrown into a pillar, his limp form sinking to the floor like a rag doll and staying there. His chest barely appeared to move with each breath and his youthful features were contorted in an expression of misery and pain that the younger Power had never seen before. The younger Power held back tears as she tried to make her way past the rubble and debris towards him to make sure that he wasn't dead. Even from this distance she could see the gashes criss-crossing his arms and wings, his blood, thick and silver in color, tainting everything from the black trousers that he wore to his boots. Even his bangs, once as white as the six wings on his back, were tipped with silver from a small cut in his forehead. Looking at him, anyone would marvel at teh fact that he was alive. Or so Ivory hoped.

With amazing speed she pushed her way past a falling statue to the far end of the throne room where her friend and superior lay seemingly unconcious at the base of the Seat of Wisdom. "Malachi..." she managed as she slowly and carefully knelt beside him, warily looking round for their attacker. In the deep shadows that now encompassed the room, he could be anywhere. Each statue, each shadow, once only passing beauties had turned grotesquesly dark and frightening. From the corner of her eye, each seemed to be alive and to move on its own. The Power of Light shook her head and shut her eyes, willing herself to see only their true surroundings. When she opened her eyes again and turned her sapphire gaze on the room, a shrill scream escaped her as she gazed into the souless black depths of their attacker.

With a single swift motion he silenced her and sent her tumbling to the floor where Malahi HAD been. As he moved in for the kill, his narrowed eyes intent on her as he raised the sword in right hand, a roar filled the room and a white blur filled her vision, knocking the figure to the floor in a flurry of fur, feathers and claws. Ivory crawled to her feet and cowered in a corner as Malachi, newly transformed, viciously attacked the figure in black and fought him back.

The man seemed to laugh as her defender faultered for a moment and fell back a bit, shifting back into the boyish form the universe knew the Keeper of the Powers to hold. "What's wrong, Malachi?" he scoffed, "If I knew you were going to be this easy, I would have stayed away from teh Palais Illuminatine."

"You should... have stayed away... in the first place..." Malachi breathed, allowing his anger to visibly show in his youthful features. He was sincerely shocked and appalled that this... "Z" had the audacity to attack them. Not only had he targeted him, but he had targeted all of the Powers, apparently with the intent of killing them or taking them hostage or some such thing. Regardless of where they stood in opinion, the other Powers were Malachi's friends and he wasn't about to just hand them over this man. That in mind, he struggled to get to his feet, wishing in a way now that he hadn't invited the others to a meeting here. It was too dangerous now... If this guy had bested him... He growled as he fell back to his knees clutching his right shin which was bleeding profusely by this point. If this guy and his army of those giant black bug things had bested him like this who knew how the others would stand up? That army was just too much...

Empress Constitutiona watched the Time Wheels, not believing what she was seeing. People had disappeared and not even the Wheels knew where they were.

As each vanished, she watch helplessly, as she could do nothing. The Wheels stopped, and Consti gasped. "No...why him? I'm the only one allowed to kick his ass." she paused only a moment before grapping a nearby shoulder bag and began to throw various weapons, potions and spells into it.

"Girls!" She called out to the other members of the Balancing Councils who were at the compound. "I'm going on a mission, don't, under any circumstances follow me."

She ran to the transportation room and cast the spell, one she had hoped to never cast for this particular situation.

The room flashed white for a moment before she appeared at her destination. She immediatly went to Ivory. "Iv, honey. Please tell me that's not who I think it is. How in the hell did he get out?"

Ivory could only shake her head and stare in terror as Malachi struggled to his feet and took an almost protective stance before the two women, the Celstial Shard gripped tightly in his hand. The legendary sword usually meant a swift death for anyone who dared challenge the authority that it or its owner demanded. This time, however, things were different. Somehow this invader had avoided death altogether and was actually wearing Malachi down. It wasn't a feeling he relished, knowing that if this figure got past him, it would only be a short while before the Palais was his. The other Powers had been beaten down one by one by the innumerable insect army that he commanded, making him and Ivory the last two to be dealt with. What he had done with the others, Malachi could onyl guess, but it was NOT about to happen to Consti and Ivory.

"I don't know who this guy is r where he came from, but you have to take Ivory and go, Consti. Get her somewhere safe," he managed, not taking his indigo gaze from the fearless, souless depths before him. Looking into those eyes, one got the notion that he knew more than he let on. Whatever it was, Malachi didn't like it and didn't want Consti or anyone else near it. "Consti, go," he said again, just to make sure she had heard him. "At least until some of the others get here..." Personally, he was almost wishing a couple of them would, despite the danger they'd be in. He wasn't sure he could stand up to this "Z" himself, though he was going to try his hardest, to be certain. "Please..." he managed, gripping his sword so hard his knuckles turned white.

Consti just nodded, to afraid for Malachi to say anything.

She closed her eyes and called forth her wings, wrapping them around both her and Ivory, sort of like a protective shell, then began chanting in a language so old, only those who knew her as a child would know it.

(English translation):
Release my gates
To my harbour we go
Upon my entrance
To be sealed again,
Until it is safe again.


Consti felt the floor shift, and waited for it to settle before releasing her wings, and casting their vanishing spell again.

"Ivory, you're in my personal compound. The gates and spells are tied to my DNA. As long as I'm alive, you'll be safe here."

She summond a few healers and watched her Wheels, waiting for a safe moment to go to Malachi.

Travis awoke, his attention was brought to his hands, they were bound, tighter than he had ever known and he was gagged. Where was he?
He peered into the darkness...all he could see was the black, thick like treacle.
He could feel the oppressive nature of the blackness, pushing down on him from all angles. He tried to reach out and touch the life force but found no answer.

_____________________________________________________________

Sian bolted awake, the dream she had had was very disturbing. She had seen Travis, The Lord's heir, fighting something of monstrous power and then being defeated.

Perspiration ran down her fore head and the sheets were slick with sweat. She got up out of the bed, her braid hanging over one shoulder. Splashing some water on her face she looked into the mirror and behind her shoulder she saw another room, one where another, more ferocious battle between a child like man and the same demon who had vanquished Travis. She turned quickly and was greeted by her own bedroom, the wind blowing softly against her satin drapes. Looking back at the window she saw only her room.

Something wasn’t right however, and she was going to find out just what that was.

Leaving her room, she walked down the corridor and towards the temple. In here, she was hoping, would be Mark, the high priest and wielder of the life force, he would know what to do. Before she could reach him though he ran from the temple, he stopped when he saw her and raised his hands to greet her; she did it back to him and bowed low.

Mark: Mistress, I have had a dream.

Sian: me also Mark, Lord Travis is…

She didn’t need to finish her sentence. The look on her face was enough for Mark.

Mark: so it has come to this then. I did not see that in my dream, I did however dream of Malachi, he is a legend from far away lands, he was fighting something.

Sian: it is possible I saw that too, though only in my mirror. Whatever he’s fighting is the same thing Lord Travis faced.

Mark: then things are moving much quicker then I feared.

Sian: what? What’s going on?

Mark: you think the Order’s troubles are bad, if we don’t help now, there will be no more Order to worry about.

Sian: What you mean?

Mark: It is said, in the Order’s legends, that when the last power if gone the universe will collapse on its light and darkness will rule

Sian: but Travis wasn’t a power, he was a life energy wielder.

Mark: aye, and a powerful one at that, he was the Lords Heir, which made him a threat.

Sian: what can we do?

Mark: you have been summoned to aide Malachi.

Sian: me? But I have no power!

Mark: and yet you command men? I think you have more power than you think you do!

Sian looked down, he was right, but her power was waning, the Order was going through a hard time, and rebellion was brewing. The life energy users wanted to separate from the weapon masters. They were jealous at the power of the life energy users, who were in turn jealous of the weapon skills of the masters. It was a messy situation and it had just been made worse.

Mark: I have been commanded to send you to him.

A pinpoint of light behind him caught Sian's eye and as she watched it, it grew in size until itbecame a shining portal of light behind the Priest, almost as though confirming his words. They both knew where it would take whomever should step foot inside it. Even from a few yards away both could catch a glimpse of the heavenly land on the other side. Though when they looked closer, both could see that beyond the intense, holy light the area was very much in ruins. The once-shining gazebos and terraces lay in pieces, debris littering the blood-stained ground around them. It was a vision unlike any either of them had ever seen; The Blessed Realm of the Powers lay in tatters. If the demon Travis had faced had been able to do this... who knew what ele he was capable of?

Suddenly, a faint blur veritably flew into their field of vision, though it was a ways off in the distance. The same boyish figure from Sian's mirror-vision hit the ground hard, his face contorting in an expression of pain as he landed. When he stood, however, and brushed the white bangs out of his face, a certain degree of defiance tinted his features and lit his indigo gaze as he picked up his sword and flapped his six wings. The motion raised him into the air and with a dangerous glare he flew full-tilt at his adversary, getting in one or two hits before he was knocked back again, this time scraping his wings on the remains of a wall. There was no doubting who it was when he turned an angry glare on his opponent and shifted positions, allowing them both to see the sword clutched in his right hand and the silver claws and fangs that sprang into view in his countenance. They had to be among the first to actually see what Malachi looked like angry.

Sian felt an intense desire to help this power, but dressed in her night gown she felt a little helpless. Mark prodded her with the hilt of her sword.

Sian: where'd you get this?

Mark: I got it just before you came here, I knew you'd need it.

she took it off him and hugged him quickly,

Sian: and my buckler?

Mark handed her a small round shield which hung on her forearm a weapon as well as defence, many a jaw had been broken with a swift knock from it. she fitted on a bag of magick dust and took some other armor that Mark had gathered. then tying her hair into a braid behind her she looked at Mark and nodded.

Mark: you know what you must do, if you need to come back just take a pinch of magick dust, throw it on yourself whilst saying HOME and you'll return here.

Sian: I'll be back, in the meantime you are in charge!

Mark nodded his agreement and smiled. he bowed low

Mark: you honour me my Lady, I'll do my best to uphold the peace until you return.

looking back to the portal which had appeared Sian stepped through into the other realm and into the battle arena. hopefully her skills with the sword, which had brought her to becoming the leader of the most powerful force in the land, would serve her well.

Sian ran to Malachi and stopped a few yards from him.

Sian: MALACHI, I SIAN OF THE ORDER OF THE WOODLAND HAVE HEEDED YOUR CALL. MY SWORD IS YOURS.

with that she rounded on the other figure. she wanted answers and was prepared to do anything to get them!

The figure laughed as he seemed to size her up, his sword back in place on his belt. In its place in his hand now rested a menacing double-ended spear, glittering in the dimming light of the Realm. A slight breeze blew through the place, bringing down his hood and scarf allowing the two to actually see his face, and they had to day, it was surprising. Long blonde hair spilled over his shoulders, newly freed from its tie, and his elegant, chisled features were tainted only by a black mark that ran from the corner of his eye across his cheek bone. But it was the eyes that stopped both in their tracks. Two points of souless darkness peered at them, though in that darkness seemed to sit an eery amount of knowledge- about them, about the Palais, about everything. "So, Sian of the Order of the Woodland, I see you've finally accepted the youth's cry for help. If you're anything like your 'Lord's Heir', however, this should be over and done with in a small matter of time," he scoffed, grinning as he saw Malachi's expression darken yet another degree. He knew the responsibility Malachi felt towards the various orders and their leaders, and that Malachi's summons hadn't been cries of help, but attempts to figure things out and solve them.

"Malachi, cry for help? Not a chance." Consti said as she reappeared, weapons drawn. "He'd rather go truely mortal first."

She looked at Malachi's attacker, "Hate to dissapoint you sugar, but no one, and I mean no one, gets to kick Malachi's butt, except me. So, you can either go back to hell, or we can dance you and I."

She shot Malachi a look, "Don't worry, she's safe. I've got her in a Council Compound that requires a magic so old to get into, only a few remember it now."

Sian was unsure how to answer this thing without letting out the emotion she had inside her. So this fiend was responsible for Travis's death...she was numbed by the confirmation and a seed of self-doubt entered her mind.

Sian: you may have defeated Travis, but you haven't tested my metal yet!

she raised her sword to make the point! it was a unique sword made from a metal with no name, the Dwarves made it for the Leader of the Order to bear and she had recieved it from her Father upon her succesion. the small shield, she had had crafted herself.

The sudden apparition of the woman suprised her a little but her focus on the matter at hand returned quickly, when she saw the woman was an ally.

Chalgrish had been trudging through the muck of the riverbed in his forest, when a hart* followed by several hunting dogs, charged passed him. He blinked rapidly, to clear his eyes, when he realized what it meant.
He sprinted out of the thick woods, and ran toward the seer's hut. Arriving there, he gasped for air and walked inside. He opened his mouth to speak, but the blind woman spoke first.
"About time, twit! do you realize how much trouble you're in? Pah! you'll find out in a moment. Go into my hearth..."
The old woman reached into a bag, and threw multi-hued dust into the ground at Chalgrish's feet. When it touched, the ground flared up and engulfed him. He shut his eyes and when he opened them, not only was he in a temple, but a group of figures was standing in front of another man who looked slightly similar to him. He stared a moment, then trudged forward towards the group, using his unstrung bow as a staff.


*hart- a white red deer stag

The group didn't seem to notice him and the figure didn't seem to care. Whilst this "Z" was occupying their attention with his talk, his small army, which had all-but captured Illuminatine and the lands around it, was closing in. The giant insects that he had freed when he had attacked the hellish Pitch Fields (Hell, in all aspects but the name), were a force to be reckoned with. It was, after all, Malachi himself who had seen fit to lock them in the pit after they had ravaged an entire planet, leaving it barren of all life. He knew the fear that hid in Malachi's eyes at the site of them, knowing full well what they were capabale of. From the hills surrounding them all, that army was closing in, a veritable wall of ebony mandibles and wings that had the potential to destroy everything in Illuminatine once he was finished here. For the time being, he'd hold them in one place and bide his time until the remnants of his force arrived.

"I hardly need test your metal, Sian of the Order, or yours, Consti of the Balancing Councils," he said with a wry grin. "I know what each of you is capable of and I can assure you, that if Travis and Oran could not stand up to me, then neither will either of you. I've all-but defeated the 'great leader' who called you here. And eventually, just as the others did, he and you will fall under my feet." As if to prove his point, he moved to deal a finishing blow to Malachi, who was doing his best to conceal his weakness in lieu of their most recent battle. However, the boy saw him coming and sidestepped his spear, giving him a good long gash in the side as punishment for his impudence. When the figure turned, however, the group was surprised and a bit horrified to see the wound close and heal itself over. What in teh name of Heaven were they dealing with?

Meanwhile...

A candle fluttered and sputtered angrily to life in a place far from the Illuminatine. As its light brightened, shelves upon shelves of books became visible. Hundreds of volumes, some ornately decorated and inches thick and others ragged and thin lined each wall and indeed went down the length of the room. A slim, feminine figure sat on a ladder against one such shelf, blissfully oblivious to the events going on at the Palais Illuminatine as she perused a rather thick text in her lap. At the sound of an angry, familiar voice, however, her attention was pulled from the powerful strings of words and metaphorical images and she turned a blindfolded gaze on the candle. The smallest of smiles crossed her lips and she whispered to herself, "I wondered when I would hear from you again, Master Guardian."

He slept soundless in his eternal crypt as he called it. It was a room lavish with red satins, and comfortable chairs, his bed was made of the strongest and finest woods, his sheets a black silk. Ifrit lay resting in the fold of the ebony fabric. Slowly he stirred awake after 5 decades his eyes opened and his fogged mind cleared. Slowly coming to his own thoughts he stretched a bit, and felt his power ever increased from the long slumber.

Something horrible had awakened him, and now he needed to get to the source of it, horrible pain found his mind as he sensed some he knew, other immortals in harm, consti, and malachi were the first names to enter his mind. He climbed from his bed and went to the chamber door. Opening the door to heavy for any but those of his strength or greater, and then slid it back into place once he exited the chamber into the great hall of his home.

His home in its own right was magnificent, and in the farthest corner of the universe, or was it multiberse? He had lost track long ago...in an event he was needed once more, and a trouble of this scale had not come around for a very long time. Moving siwftly to the front gates of his home he was off and into the night to aid those who needed him.

________________

Ifirt arrived just as he saw the man become slashed and healed. Landing only feet away his calm eyes surveyed the scene as he looked in all seriousness at the scene. "Sorry...I'm late...update or should we just presume someone needs beat down." Ifrit's voice was gruff after not being used for what was roughly 50 years.

Consti glanced at Infrit

"The moron over there," she said, pointing at X "is the one who needs the smackdown. He trying to injure Malachi. That's my job d*** it. He's already getting on my nerves. I don't remeber much about him. I wasn't quite the Empress I am now then, and if I remember correctly, I was giving birth the my first set of twins at the time too." she waved her hand in the air. "But enough of that. I say we beat the crap out of him. He's too d*** cocky.

The flame erupted angrily as it illuminated the room with vibrant light.
As the flame surpassed its previous limitations now not only fueled by the wick and the wax that bound it, it became fused with supernatural qualities. The flame adapted anomalous features as it became imbued with a dark blue color. The heat emanating from the flame manifested feelings of rage with its influence and a familiar figure materialized into view in the heart of the flickering blaze.

The smile on Fate's countenance apparently offered no solace to the immolated figure, for while he spoke his enigmatic words became laced with confusion and disarray.

I wondered when I would hear from you master guardian!

Are you mad! How can you not expect me when you have orchestrated and written such travesties that are being committed! Have you lost your mind!

I... what are you talking about?

You know very well what I am speaking of Fate! Did you expect me to sit idle in this barren place while you harmonized the attack of friends? This is an OUTRAGE!

Guardian I have no idea what you are talking abo...

SILENCE! Gaze for yourself the destruction that you are causing!

The figure then disappeared, and in his stead images of Malachi, the great power, being viciously attacked by the figure known as "Z" took form.

The figure returned with virulent expressions dwelling on his face. He crossed his arms quitely awaiting an explanation.

Fate watched the images and Exanderous could see a growing sense of confusion encompass her festures. She KNEW that she hadn't written that. True, Malachi had his share of fights in any given week, but not like this... The boy had gashes criss-crossing his arms, his wings drooped, and he looked to be slowly but surely tiring out. Almost anyone Malachi usually faced was a challenge, yes, but no one had managed this on him before. And this "Z"... there was something familiar about him... Without saying a word to Exanderous, she opened a viewing poral and took another look at the images and felt her eyes widen in shock and horror as she was sure she was looking at a ghost. Closing the portal, she turned her blindfolded gaze on the figure in the candle.

"Guardian, I don't know why this is happening, but I can assure you that it's nothing that I intended. I'm getting to the bottom of this now." With that, she turned and disappeared down the rows of bookshelves, and from the desk where the candle sat, Exanderous could see her unlock a positively enormous door and enter. Over her shoulder a large, heavy book, brown leather-bound with silver writing was visible chained to a pedestal.

Meanwhile, the figure in question was rather enjoying himself as he openely attacked any of the group who were daft enough to venture close to him. As expected, his army had descended on the little valley just outside the Illuminatine and the group of Malachi's invites were having one heck of a time with them. Malachi couldn't help but wince as one of the horrid soldiers snapped at his side, drawing a little blood. Without thinking he turned and effectively sliced the thing in half, his now clear path of vision locking his eyes with those of "Z". He felt a certain amount of rage at the sight of the man who had brought all this down upon them. With a glare of hatred he fought his way through to the source of his frustrations and lunged at him. With a grin, "Z" parried the lunge and countered it with ease. He grinned at the frutration in Malachi's eyes, thinking of the strength he could so easily draw from the boy. Malachi, however, was not amused and fought to the brink of his ability. From the corner of his eye, he could see that the others were being equally tested, the insects all-but overwhelming their small group.

Consti, that ship of yours would be really good about now... he mentally said to his long time friend and rival. In that time, that he allowed his attention to lapse, however, his enemy saw his distracted state and took his opportunity to end the fight. Malachi gasped in pain as he felt a burning sensation encompass his enter left shoulder. With a heavy breath he fell to his knees, clutching at the spear that "Z" had penetrated his shoulder with. When he looked up at his adversary he saw an unparalleled amount of satisfaction cross his opponent's features as he viciously twisted the weapon, drawing a cry of anguish from the boy. In despair he watched his surroundings begin to blur and felt his own blood pour through his fingers, staining them with a silver tinge. Though he knew that his enemy hadn't intended to kill him- the spear had hit too high for that- he was coming close. Malachi could feel himself loosing conciousness as the blood seeped from his shoulder, side, arms and wings. His six wings drooped pathetically, now so tired that they wouldn't have been able to carry him two feet. Even as he was slipping, however, Malachi got the feeling that his victorious opponent wanted him alive... in some way shape or form. As things began to black out all that he could see was the malicious grin on "Z's" face. Ex... he thought, almost as a final gasp for help. Aloud he managed to breath, "Consti, Ifrit..." before succumbing to the pain and falling to the ground. "Z" grinned and finally removed the spear, leaning over his limp form to pick the boy up.

Consti nodded. "Artimis, we need a pick up."

Overhead a purplish-blue portal opened as a silver and black ship came through. The ship was shaped in what looked like an octagon with a small rectangle underneath. A similar, but smaller ship appeared behind it.

A girl, who looked vaugly like Consti appeared infront of them. "Artim's giving me a lift back." Artimis, glanced at Z, then back at Consti. "And mom, have fun kicking his butt."

With that Artimis disappeared. Consti smiled then waved her hand in the air, causing the entire group to appear in the medical bay of the ship. "Let the med-techs look you over." she pointed to a door to the left, "The galley is through there, eat soemthing, all of you."

She turned to where Malachi was laying on a bed. "I'm going to heal him. Tell the bartender to have a screwdriver with extra vodka ready for me. The pilot has already left the atmosphere, he'll take us somewhere that we can regroup and come up with a plan."

Not waitng to see if the others had left or not, she began to chant over him, as a pale yellow light left here hands and watched over him.

Heal the damages that have been done
By he who has taken away my fun
All of this should have been mine
But alas, now is not the time.


Slowly, Malachi's wounds began to heal themselves. Consti pulled up a nearby stool, intent on sitting with him until he awoke. Always have to take away my fun don't you, you old geezer.

Ifrit re-sheathed slightly stained blades and punched a wall with a carefully gauged swings. "DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!" he said in rage through gritted teeth. "Not hungry...not injured...I'll see you all later." and with that he walked away from the group and towards another part of the ship in some attempt to be alone with his thoughts. He felt robed of a chance, and he felt annoyed that whatever or whoever this "Z" was would attack some of the greatest powers in the verse. Finding an empty chamber towards the end of the ship opposite the sickbay he sat down on a bench and sighed.

"THis is not right, something is dearly amiss...and why is it I cant keep my temper cool, over something that in retrospect seemed trivial." he shook his head furiously and leaned back. against a wall his mind in spirals. "So this is what happens when you sleep for 50 years."

" What we do need to know is how this "Z" is able to block everything you have thrown at him!" remarked Chalgrish, grinding his boot into the remnants of an insect which remained on his boot.
He looked around the medical bay, then strode to the washbasin, rubbing the grime off his body. He turned and dropped onto one of the many cots strewn around the room, staring at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, in the ancient library far from the group of heros, Fate had pulled the book from its vault and now sat at her desk skimming through it. To the figure within the candle, it almost seemed that she was looking for something as she turned each crimson page. However, with each flick of the wrist and each turn, the Power seemed more and more to be finding only a growing sense of frustration. Her head rested in her free hand as she continued to peruse the book, obviously knowing exactly what she was looking for, which, as Exanderous would find in a moment, was not there.

With an angry growl she reached the last page- or rather what SHOULD have been the last page. To the amazement and horror of the blindfolded Power, the writing which had before gone to the end of the book now stopped a good thirty pages or more from the back cover... And as the two figures watched it was REWRITING itself. Passages chronicling the recent defeat of Malachi at "Z"s hands sprang to life on the page in long, spidery script that Fate had seen only once before. "The bastard..." she muttered under her breath as she grabbed her long peacock-quill pen and moved to scratch out the passage that was still writing itself in flowing script across the page.

However, even as she lowered her hand and pressed pen to paper, a virulent blue light shot from the book like a small explosion and sent her flying into a nearby bookshelf. With a groan she sank to the floor and stumbled to her feet, clutching at her writing hand tightly. An expression of disgust crossed her features as she watched a small trickle of her own red blood drip from her palm down her wrist and to her arm. "Zhivko, you've crossed the line..." she muttered. To the candle-figure she said simply, "We have to get hold of Malachi and the others NOW if we are to stop him, though I can't say how they'll hold against him..."

The resonating figure in the flame nodded to show understanding Fate’s instructions. He knew with the dire, frantic expressions Fate was demonstrating, the matter was far more somber then he once depicted. . He could feel the toil Fate was solemnly expressing, and understood that the culprit behind this masquerade obviously was committing acts relevantly passed his boundaries. Luckily, Malachi was still in his influence and reach. With a desolate lack of expression blessing his countenance, he directed his piercing gaze towards fate and began to speak.

I will notify Malachi of my instrument to the north. Rubin will be my hand on this plain. With my instructions and influence, within him and the combined effort of the others this realm just might have a chance.

Alright then, Fate muttered. Let it be so.

The flame arched up a few feet or so and burned violently for mere seconds. After a mighty crackle, the vibrant flame dissipated along with the figure inhabiting it.