• ~Chapter 1~


    "Immortality - a fate worse than death."
    Edgar A. Shoaf

    "It's sad, death is. You've only three choices when a loved one dies: mourn, not care, or immediately try to forget about it. The human race has the horrible burden to chose which of these paths, all which can be regretted, to follow. Why do we have the free will? That is the beauty of it all. Even if we pick the worst possible path, it was our choice to chose it. It's our problem to deal with, our burden to carry. Life would be boring if everyone followed one path and everything went perfectly and nothing exciting ever happened. That would be boring, to say the least. But the true beauty of free will, is when we make the right choice, when we follow the right path, cause then we get to look back at those who made the wrong choice, and just- laugh. Not to laugh at them, because if you would've chosen that path, people would laugh at you. Laugh at the path they took, how ridiculous it would've been if you took that path. But what about the path one is to chose after a death? There is no perfect choice. You might be looked up to if you just forget about it, but then what happens to all of those tears you would've shed, all of those sad moments you would've spent wondering why? You might've been comforted if you would've mourned, but there is no such thing as true comfort, and the mourning would only grow if you believe comfort would help. Also, if you would just have not cared, people would think you were crazy. If you were immortal, you wouldn't have to chose, people wouldn't have the chance to give life an example of their wonderful gift of free will. If you were immortal, you wouldn't be able to look down from heaven when you die and see that people are mourning for you, crying for you. Wouldn't knowing you were loved during your life on this earth be a better fate than never dying and seeing those around you become fertilizer for the earth?"
    Priest of the Zodiac Stones



    "This is the thing only elves must suffer, so why must we? Why would you even think of trying to change the whole human race with th- this.... this witchcraft!"
    "Don't bore me with your ridiculous lectures, Norman! I'm not giving you a choice here!"
    "That's exactly why it is wrong!" yelled Norman, a well educated woodsman. "Zemak, I can't believe I honestly thought, even for a second, that you were a good man!"
    "Norman," he said sarcastically, "please don't make me force you take the potion. You very well know this could only be beneficial for both of us," Zemak quickly and calmly replied.
    "You sicken me! Did you not hear a word I have just spoken?"
    "I have no time for this. What is your answer, will you take the potion?", quizzed Zemak.
    "What do you think? You're a magus right, can't you tell what my answer is?" asked the woodsman.
    "Oh, but that would be cheating, my friend." He smiled wickedly. "You're a hard man to read Norman, I'll give you that. But I am stronger than you, and definitely much smarter." His crooked smile spread to his ears.
    "All you have is your inhuman witchcraft!" shouted Norman.
    "Enough!" screamed Zemak. He raised both of his long, thin arms and his once onyx black eyes were blood red, and shining with a darkness straight from hell, and the intent of murder stung the already foul air. Norman suddenly flew up to the ceiling, arms flailing. He hit his head and blacked out, landing on the wooden floor and shaking the shack.
    "Such a shame. All is well, he will eventually bend to my whim. But if the King gets wind of what I've done..." his foul voice trailed off. "I mustn't give him the potion, not yet."

    * * *


    "Ah, Silverstone! How precious is one's home, my great king?"
    "Quite magnificent Eald... Quite magnificent..."
    "How fare you his majesty? Are you well, for your face looks flushed", Eald questioned. Eald, King Malic's Adviser and right hand man, was dressed in a fine satin robe of turquoise blue with white and black designs of fire neatly knitted on bottom. He had a long, white beard, yet his head bore no hair.
    "Of your many years of advisory to me, my father, my father's father, and his great Uncle," the King replied, "You should know that the King scarce gets ill, even of his conscience."
    "You don't sound ill, my King. I will take your word for it." He smiled kindly.
    "Let us not linger on the subject. Have you discovered the perpetrator?"
    "That is a project yet to be completed. Whoever he-"
    "Or she. Mind you, Eald, times have changed. There very well be more female assassins out there than man."
    "Forgive me. As I was saying, whoever the perpetrator is, he, or she, is very, very crafty. We might possibly be dealing with someone inhuman."
    "Nonsense Eald, the Elves are gone to Delvrnbar, the dwarfs have been hiding in their caves for centuries, the last known living wizard lay in a coma at the Tower, and the Magus' died out during the last great war. My, you should know more about this than I!"