Dough's Bakery of Books

[DoughGuy]

Ok so this will now be my writing thread. Each story will have its own post with a short explanation of what it is. Nothing is finished because I like to start book length stories but run out of motivation to finish them

Contents
Different Thread - A Cold Flame
Post 1 - The 11 Sages
Post 2 - Lost Heart
Post 4 - Lost Heart Prequel
Post 16 - RPApril Marathon Stories
Post 18 - Some RPApril Stuff
Post 21 - The Knight
Post 26 - Unnamed sci-fi shooter


This was my first real writing project. I even had a friend draw me up some maps for the world. Nice backstory, worked out magic system and just a whole lot of effort put in. The main problem I've had with it recently is a lack of motivation to continue it so I've taken a break to work on other things.

Spoiler: The 11 Sages - Chapter 1 

It was calm along the front at last. The walls of the imperial fort went unstained by the actions of war for the first time since their construction. The mud and puddles of no man's land had turned to soft earth without the spilling of blood to soak the ground. Vast swathes of grass bloomed in the nutrient rich ground, life rising from the toils of death. To the east over the sea clouds began to form, their hues darkening with the sign of a coming storm as the sun began to slip beyond the horizon.

Where once the forces of the living had waged wars with their lives now armies of diplomats waged the same war with their words. When once murderous intent was carried from fort to fort by curled arms it is now the whispers which roll from tongues delivering blows. Lieutenant Merek was glad for the change. The Tailors were bastards to trade shots with. They were small, wiry and better on average a better shot than any human.

He cut quite the figure striding atop the imperial fort. His white shirt was slightly ruffled by the cool sea breeze blowing in while his blue cloak blew out behind him exposing the black leggings of his uniform. Knee high boots of the same black colour shone lightly, the polished leather gleaming in the sunlight. A red sash completed the picture from left shoulder to right hip listing the honours he had won in battle in green lettering. Only exposed by the wind a small brown pouch was strapped to his left hip, its position hiding it from the world while allowing easy access. Similarly a flintlock pistol was holstered on his right hip though it remained hidden by his coat.

He pulled his spyglass from his belt and passed it over the Attarum fortress a hundred metres distant. He could see the enemy lining their walls opposite. The enemy Tailors stood to attention with their own bolt action rifles holstered on their backs rather than aimed at the Imperials. They were so similar to humans it was odd, only the grey pallor of their skin truly setting them apart.

"Quite the sight isn't it." a voice said from behind. Merek turned to see Amalric walking up to him. His friend was dressed identically to him except for his sash, which was bone coloured with pinkish writing. The pair had served for many years together, becoming good friends while stationed on the northern border of Imperial territory back in the homeland.

Merek looked to his friend with a quizzical look letting out a low hum of expectance, "What sight would that be?"

"The enemy fort." replied Amalric, "Sure it's been trying to kill us since we landed, but you have to admit free of the stains of war it is quite the figure against the skyline."

Returning his view to the enemy fort he had to admit Amalric was right. The fort was less of a building of war and more an organic structure grown for a purpose. Sleek curved line protected its walls from ladders and the curling crenulations provided a surprising amount of protection for the soldiers within. The walls were stainless silver steel as well, the colour pleasing to the eye without blinding a viewer with the sun's reflection.

"They say that Attarum called upon the material sages of the Iron Kingdom to construct it and they did so within a day. If that’s true it’s no wonder that we can’t bring it down." replied Merek, "I thought we knew what we were getting into?"

"The lord thought he did. But I think the battle at Hashtel Grove changed him. It's no wonder soon after he called for peace talks. That event alone could attract the notice of the other sages. With Geth pushing so hard back home he can't afford to lose much here."

"Why we had to turn to our 'allies' for conquest before we secured our home continent is beyond me." Merek yawned deeply as the final rays of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. "Well Ric I've been out here all day, it's your turn to watch now. Enjoy."

"I'll try my friend." laughed Amalric.

His worries not at all placated Merek turned from his friend and entered the fort. He made his way to his quarters for what he knew was a fitful sleep.

***

The roar and rumbling of thunder shook Merek awake. Groggily, he pulled himself up and saw the rain which pounded against his window in a constant stream, a loud pattering echoed throughout his quarter. Pushing himself into a sitting position Merek wiped his eyes clear and began pulling on his boots. He hadn't bothered to change out of his fatigues before falling asleep. Now he wished he had, feeling the stiffness in his bones.

A lightning bolt struck outside so close his room was washed out by its light. Simultaneously the thunder rolled through the fort rocking the entire structure. Merek began moving more hurriedly fearing the storm was more than natural. Scooping up his crystal pouch he rushed upstairs. The hallway outside was packed with soldier running to and fro, voices were shouting everywhere a cacophony of noise reverberated around Merek as he pushed his way through the mass.

Almost falling through the door to the roof Merek quickly regained his balance and looked around. Rain soaked him through in seconds and the wind threatened to push him back inside if he wasn't careful. The roof was little better than the hallway in terms of its order, soldiers pointed their guns in all directions, not knowing what was going on. The slick ground underfoot caused many to stumble adding to the chaos.

"Merek!" Merek turned, looking for the source, but it was impossible to locate the owner in the current conditions. The storm swelled once again and another bolt of lightning struck, blinding him. Instantly thunder followed, the force throwing him and many others off their feet. As he recovered, pulling himself off the wet roof, something bumped into him. Rapidly blinking his eyes to adjust them to the lack of blinding light the something resolved itself into Amalric, a fellow mage. Amalric was shouting at him but Merek's thunder shocked ears could barely hear him.

His ears popped just as Amalric yelled again "Merek we need you help!"

"What’s going on?" he shouted back, unaware how loud he was.

Amalric waved his hand down, indicating he was too loud. "We don't know, but we need mages to form a barrier. Quickly follow me."

Amalric took off towards the fort wall. Merek stumbled after him, suddenly noticing the carnage he hadn't had the chance to notice before. Dotted over the roof were blackened smears where lightning had struck. Horrified Merek spotted blackened lumps within the smears which could only be the remains of those caught in the blasts. Suddenly he realised the full destructive power of the storm above.

He ran up next to Amalric and stuck one hand into his crystal pouch. The other he held out towards the storm and drew upon the energy in the crystals. His magic leapt outwards, a barely visible channel fluttering like a lightning bolt, and struck a magical barrier which began absorbing it, just as a massive bolt bounced off the invisible wall and slid into the ground. "This isn't natural." He hissed.

"It's the Tailors." growled Amalric, "They're the only ones with this kind of magic."

"The Tailors have nothing like this. It’d take every Sky Mage on the continent to make a storm this powerful." shouted Boric from further down. Sky Mage Boric was the man directing the barrier. As a senior air mage he could force the air particles so close together that even lightning could not penetrate. While many of the others helping were mages of other schools, they could still channel raw magic energy into the shield which reinforced Boric's initial efforts. "This is sagic level!"

"They wouldn't dare!" Amalric gasped as another bolt collided with the shield, "To bring a sage into the wars of man would be disastrous."

"Not for them." Boric grimaced

"Lookout!" Merek screamed. He had seen the build-up of magic in the clouds, so powerful it was visible even before it was released. There was no way even every mage in the fort together could stop this blast. The rest of the line heard his warning and saw it too. In a second the shield dissipated as the mages scattered. Merek grabbed Amalric and threw himself over the edge of the fort. Calling upon his own power he poured magic into the grass below causing it to rapidly grow into a soft pillow to land on.

Seconds before they could hit the bolt released from the skies burning a brilliant path down from the heavens. In the split second of its birth Merek turned to look and swore he saw a figure above directing it before the world went white and the blast knocked him unconscious.

Spoiler: Chapter 2 

Merek opened his eyes slowly, the warm sunlight caressing his bruised skin. Slowly sitting up he cradled his head in his hands, already feeling the effects of a painful headache setting in. Chunks of stone and long strands of grass tumbled off his form as he rose, falling from creases in his clothing and informing him of dozens of new bruises over his body. The ground beneath was the soft remains of his magically grown grass. It had cushioned the impact of landing but he could tell another force was responsible for saving him from the concussive force of the lightning bolt.

Summoning up his courage he finally cast his gaze behind him to where the imperial fort had once stood. As he feared nothing that resembled its mighty structure remained. The middle of the fort was simply a blackened crater, everything within a few metres of it obliterated. There was no way anyone who had been inside had survived. As if to confirm that thought he spotted the first body lying in a heap near the wall. The body was blackened and charred in some cases the damage on it was down to the bone. Looking at what remained of the wall convinced him searching for survivors would be a waste of effort. Its stone sides barely reached a foot in height at their tallest point an parts of it had been blown off completely, the foundations wrenched out of the ground by the concussive force of the bolt.

Suddenly he realised he had forgotten Amalric. His friend was lying right next to him on his side. A quick check saw he had no serious wounds. “Amalric, wake up!” he said as he shook him, unable to yell too loudly because of his own headache, “We need to move.”

His friend barely responded to his words, waving his hands to ward Merek off in a stupor. Cursing his friend’s heavy sleeping his eyes drifted over to where the Tailor fort stood. The sight which greeted him caused his eyes to arch in surprise. The enemy fort was ablaze. Smoke rose in great plumes from within the fort and fires could be seen licking at the upper edges of the walls. The gates themselves had been blasted into oblivion by some incredible force. Nothing remained of them except an empty hole revealing a scene of carnage almost matching the imperial fort. Shredded tailor corpses could be seen from where he stood, but the black billowing smoke prevented his vision piercing too deeply into its heart.

Looping his arm around Amalric’s waist he began dragging his friend into the shallow protection of the ruin.

***

Merek returned to where Amalric lay. His friend had taken the brunt of their impact and broken his tibia. Along with the fort any medical supplies they could have used to set his leg were long gone. Merek had managed to use his magic to draw up some water and create some tea plants. He carried the mixture around in a blackened metal plate which had a bowl shaped blasted into it. Placing it on the ground he began heating it with a small flame he conjured.

The pair were resting near the edge of the ruin, using the remains of the wall for seating. Amalric had propped himself up with his back to the wall, letting his broken leg stretch out. If he couldn’t set the leg he could at least keep it straight. Mer sat on a higher piece of the wall, elbows resting on his knees with his fingers interlocked. He was resting his head on his hands and controlling the flame with his eyes when he spoke.

“How’d we survive Ric?” Merek asked, “We weren’t going to hit the grass in time to avoid the shockwave.”

Amalric cracked a smile, “You forget you’re not the only mage sometimes Mer.” He pointed at a small patch of grass visible to his position. Suddenly it grew upwards, the leaves opening into a cup shape. Amalric threw a stone into the cup and the leaves collapsed into a protective ball over the rock. “I barely got it off and it was just strong enough but it held us.”

Merek let out a breath of relief. Any other type of mage and they probably would be dead but Ric’s animation had kept them alive. “Didn’t even think of that. Glad you did, otherwise we might just be 2 very long stains on the ground now.” He turned back to the tea which was thoroughly boiled and pulled out a second piece of metal. Pouring half into the second one he handed it to Amalric. It didn’t taste very good, but it was warm and filled the belly.

Amalric drained the last of his tea and turned to Merek. “You should go friend. You can get help and bring it back, taking me with you will only kill us both.”

Merek was shocked by his friend’s words “And what if the tailors find you first! After what we’ve surely done to their fort I don’t think they’ll be too happy with us.”

“Look at the fort Mer. I doubt we left anyone alive. And I’m not defenceless. I’ve got my crystals and my magic. We’re both 3rd order mages, I’ll be fine here.”

Merek gave him a hard look. They both knew even a third order mage would have no hope against a tailor mage. But if he got lucky and they only sent soldiers he could survive. Over the nearby sea the sun was slowly sinking down into the horizon, but its ray would still kiss the earth for another hour or so. “I’ll wait till tomorrow at least.” Merek said, “You can put the fire out and move into the ruins with a good night’s sleep.

Amalric nodded, “Ok. That’s a good idea.” He looked wistfully out to sea, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair as he turned into it, “So what do you think that was?”

Merek was silent for a moment. He wasn’t sure of what he had seen. He didn’t want to believe he had seen it either. “There was a person up there Ric. Someone was in the cloud directing the storm. I saw them as we dropped, just before the flash. Someone attacked us.”

“So Boric was right?”

“I think so.”

“We can’t do this Mer, we can’t fight the sages.” Amalric’s voice took on a hint of desperation, “If a sage is involved the lord will return, and then the shifter will take it as an excuse to attack. We’ll be destroyed!”

“Aye we will. But what can we do?” The pair lapsed into silence, considering the implications of a sagic war. There was a reason sages weren’t allowed to participate in the wars of mortals. The last time they had both sides had been obliterated within hours. The silence drew out as the sun slowly set below the horizon, the morbid topic having stolen their ability to converse. Eventually they debated the benefits of a fire, deciding that it was unlikely that anyone would be around to see it.

After a hearty meal of magically grown fruit Merek helped Amalric move further into the ruins to the border of the crater.

“You take the first watch Mer. You’ll be well rested in the morning.”

Merek nodded at the wisdom of that. He sat down on the ground, there was nothing else this far in. Amalric fell asleep quickly, probably still exhausted from yesterday. Merek knew he was. There was a dull stiffness in his limbs, both from the fall and pumping out so much magic. His body could handle his own power, but boosted by crystals it could leave physical debilitations if the caster pushed them self.

He pulled out his crystal pouch, opening the flap and checking the contents. As he expected there were some that had burnt out with the stress of resisting the lightning. He spared a quick glance for Amalric. He had only blocked one bolt whereas Ric had blocked at least 2 or 3, his stash would mostly be waste now. Discarding his own wasted crystal Merek replaced the pouch on his belt. He’d have to be careful with it until he got to another base.

Time passed and nothing transpired. Eventually the moon had completed half its voyage through the sea of the night and Merek roused Amalric to take watch. “Just make sure to check your crystal pouch. You’ve probably burnt out a lot from yesterday.” Merek told him before going to sleep.

Amalric waited till he was sure Merek was asleep before scrambling for his pouch. He cursed himself for not realising sooner he’d have burnt out a lot. He pulled his pouch out and opened it, dismayed to see the black ruined mass before him. His head dropped, he’d be searching for working crystals tonight unlike usual. He began throwing the broken pieces out, the small bursting into dust as they pinked against the rock floor around him. Soon enough he was surrounded by a layer of blackened ash. He looked sadly down at what had survived the clean out. 5 crystals. Basically nothing for a third order mage. He sighed, wondering if Mer would lend him some before he left.

It was at the end of the sigh he heard it. There the soft scuffing of a boot on stone, the wind escaping lips as a soldier whispers to his comrade. They didn’t sound like they had them surrounded, but he couldn’t really escape them anyway. He kept his mouth shut, internally cursing their luck. He should have forced Mer to leave earlier. Now he was asleep when they were trapped. Closing his eyes Amalric slipped the crystal pouch inside his cloak, his hand still inside of hit. Using a fraction of his power he reached out to Mer’s jacket and had the collar lift up and slap him. His friend moved but remained asleep. Pushing a bit harder he started strangling him, using one flap of the collar to pin his mouth shut.

Merek woke suddenly, his dreams filled with giant ropes which had begun attacking him and attempting to strangle him. Upon waking he decided reality wasn’t much better as he found his own coat strangling him. Luckily his training kicked in quickly when he noticed the collar keeping his mouth shut. He held his hand out slightly, palm to the ground and shook it twice indicating he was up.

Amalric immediately let the magic drop and Merek’s cloak went inanimate again. He pointed with his exposed hand at the direction of the sound, crossing his fingers in an X to indicate possible enemy. Merek nodded in response, slowly moving his hand into his own crystal pouch. The best bet for their survival was to take their foes by surprise. The pair waited, their eyes half closed feigning sleep but their bodies ready to act.

The tailors acted swiftly, 10 troopers rushing up, 5 on either side. (Description of them)

They had been forced to start running earlier than they would have liked due to the sparse cover afforded by the ruins. The tactic left them exposed and the mages punished them for it. Flames leapt from Merek’s hand to envelop those on the right while ground came alive to the left, sucking the troopers in and tripping them up.

Before Merek’s blast could land a wall of earth exploded upward from the ground in front of it, blocking its path. The wall exploded under the impact but the troopers were saved from any harm. On the right the ground suddenly rose up shunting the upper layers away giving the soldiers a walkable surface again. Immediately they reformed and continued the charge. The 2 mages surrendered immediately.

As the soldiers moved in, cuffing the pair with magically inert manacles and removing their crystal pouches, a final figure emerged from behind them. He was dressed differently to the soldiers, reflecting his higher standing and skills.

[DoughGuy]

Ok so I had this random thought the other day which was this 3 line quote (its at the top of the story) and decided to write something for it. The story doesn't really make sense atm because there isn't much of one. I'm literally just writing this and filling in any gaps as I go along so by the end it will probably be so contradictory its just not funny

Thanks to Bee for double checking my work

Spoiler: Lost Heart 

The King lost his crown
The Sisterhood lost its angel
And I lost my heart

I can hear its final beats. I can hear the blood splatter on the ground and feel its warmth on my frozen cheek. There is some pain, a dull ache in my chest and a weird tingling throughout my body. It was odd knowing I should be feeling more. I knew I should be screaming in agony, weakly grasping at the wound and praying for my life. But all I felt was relief that it was over. Though our failures had crushed us it was over. I turned my head to look at the Warlord, standing there with an evil grin on his face. He held my heart in one hand and the Bloody Knife in the other.

I nodded to him, acknowledging his victory before pushing myself up. I rolled off the altar and onto my shaky legs, grabbing its cold, stone edge to stop myself falling. Regardless I fell to my knees, too weak to support myself yet. My head drooped and I sucked in great lungful’s of air even as my brain told me it would do no good. This was not something I could avoid feeling. My body twitched involuntarily as my blood slowly drained out of my body. It reminded me of the rains back home as it pattered on the stone, a quiet yet constant noise, always there at the back of your mind.

As I adjusted to my new form the Warlord strode up the steps, cradling my heart in his hand. Above the altar was a golden ball as large as 2 fists held together. Sprawling script covered the surface of the ball, a single sentence in an ancient tongue repeated over and over. A hairline crack ran around its centre interrupted by a single word. The Warlord picked up the ball and whispered,

“Eulthas”

The word on the crack glowed briefly before the top of the ball swung open, the word holding the two halves together like a hinge. He dropped my heart into the open ball before pushing the lid back down. The 2 edges touched and flashed gold, the hairline crack and its word disappeared and the ball became a sealed globe. The script upon the surface began to run like wet ink, dripping off the globe and falling to the ground at the Warlord’s feet.

“It is finished.” he said as I finally pushed myself to my feet, “Enjoy your new ‘life’. I will be waiting.” He turned around and began walking down the stairs. As he passed me he tossed the Bloody Knife at my feet, its red blade clattering against the stone. I watched him descend the steps to the entrance of the Temple, meeting his eyes as he spared me one final glance before closing the door behind him.

I crouched down and picked up the Bloody Knife feeling the power trapped within the blade shift as it recognised its new owner. I looked at the blood covered blade in disgust as its power entered me and caressed my mind. I knew from experience there was no sentience in the blade or in the power it held. It was a simple blood covered pugio enchanted by some magic that allowed it to recognise its owner. I unceremoniously slipped it into my belt and descended the stairs after the Warlord.

Opening the door I emerged onto the wind swept cliff face the Temple was built into. A light rain brushed my face and I closed my eyes, glad that its touch had not changed. The new hollowness of my chest made itself known as rain entered through the gaping wound. Instinctively I turned my back to the wind to protect my inside. In truth the rain would evaporate quickly once it was inside, doing no harm, but I was still adjusting to my new form. The Warlord was nowhere to be found which I was thankful for.

I crouched down and summoned my wings. Great black, leathery fronds burst from my back, tearing through the fabric of my jacket and splaying out behind me. I was momentarily surprised by their appearance though the reason for the change was obvious. I glanced at my hands and saw they were already losing their pink flush and turning a greyish white. The change was taking hold extremely fast.

Turning back to face the storm I leapt from the cliff and took flight. I headed north to the fields of Uyar and Fort Autyr. I knew the ex-king would still be there. He would need to know what had happened after I had left. He was also the only surviving ally whose location I knew for certain. We would have to start gathering friends to us again. With my powerful new wings pushing me through the air I flew on, lost in thought.

***

Fort Autyr stood on the eastern edge of the Uyar plains. In truth it was so far east of the central plains it didn’t technically reside upon them. This had allowed the king to build the fort without the kingdom of Old Karthar being able to respond with military might despite the obvious threat it imposed upon their land. In the end it had never been used against Old Karthar in war. It had served a much more important purpose.

The fort itself featured a 5 metre high wall surrounded by a 2 metre deep moat built on top of a small hill which provided it with an excellent view of the surrounding area. It was over 100 metres long on each side and could be considered a large town based on the military population it had once held. The fort was a military masterpiece and one of the king’s proudest achievements. Looking down upon it I could only be glad it was where the ex-king had chosen to make his last stand.

I flew towards the fort with the sun opposite me, a dozen metres in the air and in plain view of the fort’s sentries. I had dropped my speed considerably, giving them plenty of time to see me and prepare. With my new appearance I couldn’t afford to come in fast and risk being mistaken for an enemy. Even so I could see a few archers lining the walls with their bows held at the ready. I came to a stop above the moat in full view of the archers, “Ker’tiaan returning from Karthas, reporting in.”

The archers stared at me slack mouthed for a second; surely unable to believe I was who I claimed to be. I could not blame them for their apprehension but I wasn’t in the mood to wait. Angling my wings slightly I flew forward over their heads and dropped down into the fort, my boots slamming into the stone floor. With a painful grinding my wings slipped back into my body now they were no longer needed. Ignoring the stares of the soldiers around me I took off heading straight to the keep.

***

Ricas was not happy to see me. It could have been a grin forming on his lips as I entered the war room but as soon as he spotted the black hole which dominated my torso that grin turned to a snarl. He was one of the few which knew the significance of my loss and the fact it signified our final gambit had failed. And my return meant more than simple failure, it meant we had completely lost. His generals, on the other hand, were too horrified by my appearance to dare approach me. None of them really knew what had happened to me and I could feel their looks of horrified curiosity.

“What happened?” he demanded. He had lost his crown but he hadn’t lost any of his royal presence or loyalty from his men.

“It is a long story. Are you ready to hear it?” I asked him. I was weary myself from the battle and flight and would have preferred to put off a full report. His look told me he needed to know now. I sighed and began my tale.

“After the loss at Uyar Eidas and I split off from the army to enact the final plan we had discussed. We headed to Eul to look for a mage to get us to Karthas quickly, hoping to get there before the Warlord could return to lay an ambush. Turns out Dekka and Kellan had had the same idea and were looking for a mage in Eul too. We met them by accident at the guild.”

“Unfortunately it turned out there were no mages in Eul willing to risk working with us and we made preparations to leave the city and head west on foot. It was then we had a stroke of luck. Rorak was returning from the south and had stopped at Eul on the way there. He hadn’t found any support for us, but he brought something better. The Dragonlord couldn’t reach us with his warriors so he sent us a phoenix instead.” That last piece of news brought a few gasps of astonishment and no small amount of chatter from the gathered men. For the Dragonlord to send a phoenix meant he recognised the threat the Warlord posed. At the very least Ricas could count upon an ally in the south for safe haven.

Once the chatter had died down I continued, “Hearing what had happened to the army at Uyar Rorak happily gave us the phoenix. Not wasting another second we flew it to Karthas, leaving Rorak behind to bring word of this to you. But it appears he hasn’t returned yet?”

Ricas glanced around, indicating one of generals to speak up. The Base Commander cleared his throat and rose up, “We haven’t had any visitors to the fort since we returned from Uyar. If Rorak was headed to us he never arrived.”

I frowned hearing that. Rorak was an older man but he’d spent his life travelling through warzones. He knew how to defend himself. If he hadn’t made it there was a very good reason why. Putting the thought from my head I went on, “The phoenix flew fast and we made it to Cretha not 3 days after the Uyar battle. We were sure we had beaten him back and went on the offensive. The few soldiers who had been left on guard were no match for us. Eidas and the phoenix killed most before we landed.”

“It was when we entered the keep that we realised something was wrong. Rather than being deserted we met with dozens of the Warlord’s elite guard. While they were little challenge for us as a group we couldn’t help but feel it was odd they were there. As a precaution we brought the phoenix in the building with us. Eventually we made a run for it and made it to the throne room.”

“Dekka offered to hold off the guards while we entered and we agreed, bursting into the throne room. It was there our fears were confirmed. The Warlord was waiting with a smile of his lips, an unknown mage standing to his right. Knowing we couldn’t back down we leapt to attack. Eidas and Kellan took the remnants of his personal guard, the phoenix leapt at the mage and I charged the Warlord himself.”

“It was fierce. We were all rested from the battle at Uyar but the fight through to here had cost us. Eidas had taken an injury earlier and the new foes pulled it open wider. One of the guards got an opening and he went down with a spear through his heart. Then ... Kellan lost it. She let her anger loose and went into a frenzy against orders. In seconds the fight was over, over 20 of his guard almost all by her hand.”

“She leapt to the phoenix’s aid and dropped the mage just as quickly. And then she joined me. Between the 3 of us we put the Warlord on the back foot, but he wasn’t an idiot. She was too offensive, left too many gaps in her attack and he got her with the Bloody Knife. From that point there was only one way her fight could finish. She tried to fight on but she couldn’t avoid his attacks and was dying slowly. I ordered the phoenix to get her and Dekka out of here in case she still lived but I don’t know where they went.”

“The phoenix flew out of there and left me to face the Warlord alone. We fought for an hour … but eventually he got me with the knife. So he gave me the choice.” I closed my eyes as I thought back to making that choice. Giving him my heart in return for this new life, but in turn giving him the power he craved, or denying him and continuing to fight to the death. “I gave him my heart and he took me to the Temple. He completed the Eulthas.”*

The room was silent as I finished my tale. Even though the generals didn’t know what I was they knew what the Eulthas was and how bad it was that the Warlord had it. I knew many of them now hated me for my choice but I would live with that. The Warlord could still be defeated even with Eulthas – even if it would be harder than ever.

The silence was broken suddenly as the room erupted in one voice. Anger and despair boiled over and these men, trained to hide their emotions by war, released what had built up over the last decade. Of them all only Ricas remained silent, simply sitting there staring at me with emotionless, green eyes. I returned his stare, ignoring the shouts and accusations thrown at me. We had never been friends, our alliance was one of mutual benefit and had never progressed further than that, but from that he knew I would never do anything to help the Warlord, I would never betray our cause.

“Quiet.” he said, a single word silencing the room. He stood and walked over to me, stopping just a foot away. For the first time I noticed what he was wearing. He had discarded his royal clothes, his cloak nowhere in sight and the crown was gone from his head. Instead he wore the close fitting blue double breasted suit of a general. Unlike his generals though, the normally silver edges of the suit were gold in colour as were the buttons and cuffs. He wore no cap revealing his well-groomed short, blonde hair. He had the jutting chin and wide face of his lineage rounded off by his sharp features.

“You are not the same man that left us, Tiaan. I can hear it in your voice and see it in how you hold yourself. Failing to kill the Warlord and losing your heart to him has broken you. ” He turned back to his men and broke the stare. An involuntary sigh of relief escaped my lips as he looked away. That sigh alone confirmed what he had said though I had already known it myself. I was a shell now, both literally and metaphorically.

“The north is lost to the Warlord now. We have no men and no lands to hold. We cannot survive here, too soon we will run out of food and water and starve to death. With Tiaan’s gambit lost we will need to move south before the Warlord comes for us. The Dragonlord has declared his support for us so we will head to his lands and hope we can join him before the Warlord turns his eyes upon him. Begin preparing the troops to move out. That is all. Dismissed.”

The generals saluted their lord and filtered from the room, many stopping to give me one last glare of hatred. I ignored the looks as I had before, turning to Ricas. We needed to plan our next move now his men had their orders.

“I need to find Rorak,” he started, looking at the map of the countryside, “The Dragonlord was swayed by his words once and I want him by my side when I plea for asylum.”

“I’ll fly to Eul and see if I can find his trail there, though I have little hope. If he didn’t make it here I think the Warlord’s agents must have hit him.”

“You’ll still search for him,” he replied with surprising authority in his voice, “Once you’ve found him you need to find Dekka obviously. That takes care of all our northern agents.”

Spoiler: Lost Heart 2 

Once you have Dekka you’ll need to head west with the phoenix and get Leir out of Harth, her job there is done now. From there fly northeast to Tulear and find Larricas. I sent him south after the battle to collect round up some of our other agents and told him we’d pass through Tulear and collect him. Once you’ve got everyone head to Maglon and wait for me there.”

I looked at the route I would be taking. It would be easy to travel as long as Rorak and Dekka hadn’t gone too far on their own. “Why don’t you pass through Tulear on your way south? It should be on your way.”

“The Lords of Ue have made it very clear they won’t support us in any way. It’s not worth travelling through their lands when we can’t gather support that way. Instead I’ll be curving east slightly on the way south.” he traced a path with his finger. It would take him through 4 of the eastern countries on the way south and avoid Ue entirely. “We’ve ignored most of the lands who didn’t border Karthas because they had no reason to join us. However now he owns the north they’re on the frontlines. We may find some new allies within the east.”

“It will take you much longer to reach the Maglon taking that route. If it takes you longer than a week to meet me I will take Rorak ahead and begin introductions. Other than that I have no problems.”

Ricas straightened and turned to face me again, “You failed once Tiaan. Don’t take that to mean your opinions are worthless. What do you want to change?”

I turned away from him as he spoke. He had always been very perceptive and quick to state what he saw in a person. “I need to visit the sisterhood. The Warlord will not enter their territory but they need to know what happened to their angel.”

“After Tulear send the group south to Maglon and fly to the sisterhood to report to them. Now go, we both have much work to do.”

I saluted, an odd feeling, and walked out of the war room. Whatever he said Ricas was the only one of us who hadn’t failed yet, who hadn’t gotten an ally killed. As long as my guilt haunted me I would be trusting in his plans.

Before I left I made a trip to the room which had been my home for the last few years. It was quite a large place featuring its own fireplace and a queen bed. There were no windows due to it being hidden within the centre of the keep but a small glow orb provided adequate lighting. Despite being one of the keep’s royal guest rooms the stone walls and lack of windows did make it feel like a prison cell.

There wasn’t much left in the room, just a few items of clothing and some small personal effects which held no real meaning. The floorboards creaked as I walked over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. From the few shirts inside I pulled a plain white one out and threw it on the bed. A pair of grey pants and a pair of white boxers soon followed it. Finally I slipped out of my jacket and it joined the others clothes.

I walked over to my mirror, slowly unbuttoning my ruined shirt and exposing my chest. The new hole in my chest dominated the view, a ragged black hole glistening with moisture. By now the entire surface of my skin was a deathly grey tinge representing my transformation. I pulled my pants off and examined my almost naked body. My build hadn’t changed at all, still thin but muscled, a body which would rely on speed over strength.

It was my face which the change affected the most, apart from my chest obviously. My pupils had dilated and overtaken the rest of the iris turning them into black pits. My cheeks were slightly sunken though it was barely noticeable. My lips had lost their plumpness and my mouth now resembled a light grey cut across my face. Opening my mouth I could see my tongue was black yet my teeth were bright white. They were also felt thicker and heavier in my mouth; the pointed tips of my canines had become flat squares. I closed my mouth and ran a hand through my hair, the once blonde strands now half black

I turned away from the mirror and walked over to the bed. Stripping off my current boxers I began putting on the clothes I had pulled out. All the clothes in here already had slits in the back for my wings rather than ripping the clothing. Fully dressed I walked outside looking more like a diplomat than a seasoned warrior, a fact which would do nothing but help my endeavours. Letting my wings slip through my clothes and spread out I took to the air, ignoring the stares of nearby soldiers, and flew west.

***

Eul, capital of Ue. Ue had once spanned from the southern coast to the very end of the northern explored world, their dominion only ending at the Histan Mountains whom no man has ever crossed. In the centre of that empire sat Eul, a metropolis which saw people from every corner of the world transverse through it daily. The city was an architectural masterpiece and took over a hundred years to build accounting for its numerous expansions. Even now, with their northern territory lost to revolt and war leaving the city dangerously close to their borders Eul remained the capital and continued to be a hub of trade and commerce.

Eight bright, white towers rose from the centre of the city in a circle with a single tower in between them all. A golden cylinder rested on top of the towers, connecting them all to each other. Each of the eight towers in the circle belonged to one of the lords of Ue, containing their home, their servants and the headquarters of whatever group had helped them rise to their rank. The golden cylinder joining them all was the council room where the lords met and held their council. The central ninth tower belonged to the people and was little more than a glorified elevator, designed to lift large crowds up to the council room to bear witness to the lords at work.

As I flew over the city I avoided drawing too close to the towers instead sticking to the outer layers of the city. I didn’t want to attract the attention of any of the mages protecting the tower. Instead, placing the sun at my back, I hovered over the eastern side of the city before diving down. I became a blur as I covered the distance to the ground in seconds, spreading my wings out just as I passed the roofs of the buildings around me to slow my descent. With a powerful flap my descent halted half a metre from the ground and is dropped the small distance safely.

There were a few homeless around, even in Eul some people failed to succeed, but I wasn’t worried they had seen me. No one would believe their stories. I walked straight past them, heading towards the daylight glowing from the end of the alley. I emerged onto a bustling street, in stark contrast to the dark alley I had come from, slipping into the crowd with ease thank to my attire. My first target was the hotel Rorak had been staying at last time I had been here. As I moved through the crowds I couldn’t avoid all suspicion. My odd skin one earned me a fair share of looks; even in the cultural crowds of Eul grey was not a skin tone you saw on people.

I hadn’t landed near the hotel and it took me over half an hour to reach the front door of the building. Unlike the place Eidas and I had stayed at Rorak had had the funds to stay at one of the upper class hotels in Eul. Rather than being a combined tavern and inn the building had no tavern, only a proper restaurant to provide its residents with a meal when they wished to dine in. Due to its high standards and prices it was within the inner city district which I had been forced to avoid for my landing. It was in fact, a popular place for diplomats to stay while visiting Eul and Rorak had followed the trend.

The building itself was 8 stories tall and built from a beautiful white marble, tinged with green and grey veins running along the surface. The door was a light coloured maple with a gold plated knob. Large windows lined the outside walls giving a good view of the inside. A floor of the same marble was covered by red silk carpets leading to the stairs and reception desk of the same maple. The restaurant could be glimpsed through a swinging door revealing a well-lit room with a few people eating.

Before entering I made sure to give myself a quick pat down, brushing off any dust and straightening my jacket. It would be important to make a good impression; Rorak did not have the appearance of someone who associated with riff raff. Happy with my appearance I turned the door knob, it turning smoothly in my palm, and walked in. The same cool breeze greeted me, a magically controlled temperature that would cost a fortune to maintain.

Not breaking stride, unlike my first time visiting here, I walked along the carpet to the reception desk. A young woman in her mid-twenties greeted me. She was blonde with green eyes, moderately attractive and dressed in a white shirt with a red vest. As well trained as she was she couldn’t completely suppress the shock at my appearance. A flash of surprise flicked through her eyes and her mouth dropped slightly before she caught it. Still she managed to get through her whole greeting without her voice quivering, “Good afternoon to you sir, how can I help you?”

I stood just in front of the desk, holding myself upright and speaking with the clipped, regal tone I had been raised to speak in, “Hello. About a week ago I met my associate Rorak here before I had to leave on business. However that’s finished now and I need to conclude the deal we were working on before I was forced to leave. Do you have a record of where he left too?”

“Which room was he staying in?”

“I believe it was room 314.”

“Rorak.” she muttered as she checked the book that had been in front of her, “Ah yes. He extended his stay by a fortnight paid up front. He should still be in the room.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise and I gave her a look of doubt. There was absolutely no reason for him to stay here in these times. I quickly resumed a neutral face to prevent insulting her, “Thank you for your help. Is it possible to just go up and see him?”

“Yes just go up the stairs to your left and state your business if any of the guards challenge you.”

“Thank you again.” I replied before moving to climb the stairs, walking at the brisk pace of an impatient businessman. I was worried now, he should have moved on. He should have headed somewhere north, or back south, at the very least. I made it to the third floor unchallenged and followed the signs to room 314. I decided against knocking and simply opened the door. It was unlocked and swung open quietly. I was greeted by a scene of perfection. The large room was split into multiple sections and I could only see the living room from where I was. In front of me was a large maple coffee table surrounded on 3 sides by a white lounge and 4 wing back chairs. To my left and right each were 2 doors for a total of 4. Only the one on my right furthest from me was open. Skirting around the room I stepped through it.

Inside was obviously the study. It was surprisingly small, most of the space taken up by a massive desk which ran along the 3 edges. Most of this desk space itself was covered by paper sheets and notebooks all covered in the same small, neat writing. Straight opposite me was a wheeled chair designed to allow its user easy access to all the desk space. Upon it, slumped on the desk in a sleeping position was Rorak.

Even as I stepped forward something felt off. The study was so neat and tidy yet here he was, asleep in the chair and disturbing the area he rested upon. I could feel an aching from my knuckles but held it back and risked an approach. I placed my hand upon his shoulder as I spoke, “Rorak. Wake friend.” The figure stirred slightly, his head rising and turning my way with closed eyes.

“Who…?” he muttered, his voice a deep, rich tone.

“It’s Ker’tiaan.”

“Ker?” he replied. Instantly I withdrew my hand and jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the assassin’s knife which struck straight for where my heart, chest hole, had been. His ruse sprung the magic fell away to reveal a man half Rorak’s age in a full black body suit. I could see he was of the same build as me, with white skin and he had brown eyes, but not other feature was visible.

My jump had brought me out into the living room and put a few metres between us. The assassin took the chance to reverse the grip on his knife and pull a second from his belt to be held in the same grip. In return I released the aching in my knuckles. Long grey blades emerged from hand, each one overtaking one of my fingers and following its movements. While they appeared to be made of metal I knew they were in fact blades of light, albeit a different colour to what I had expected.

Ignoring my weapons the assassin leapt forward, an uppercut with the hilt aiming for my chin. I stepped backwards to avoid the blow ready to catch his other knife. However mid strike he stopped and suddenly reversed the swing, now aiming the point at my knee. My left hand swept in and caught the blade between 2 of my own. With my right hand I stabbed at his groin. Rather than let go of his knife to dodge he put his other blade on the inside of my attack and pushed it left and he moved closer to me. My attack deflected to his left he head-butted me, breaking my nose.

Ignoring the pain I swept the 2 unoccupied fingers of my left hand out in a wide arc. Having stepped close to me the assassin’s leg was with their range and they left 2 long cuts along his upper leg. Grunting in pain he released his first knife and ducked under my returning right hand to put some distance between us. He danced out of reach and we faced each other again.

Spoiler: Lost Heart 3 

The wounds on the assassin’s leg bled slightly, tinging his clothing red, before the skin knitted itself back together and sealed anew. Either the man himself was a mage or he had a mage helping and healing him. I wouldn’t be able to defeat him with my claws alone in either case. The problem was since my heart was removed my aspect had revealed its true self and I wasn’t sure what sort of power I had. I tried to summon my attack orbs but nothing happened.

His wound healed the assassin attacked as I tried to wield my magic. He came in fast and low, aiming a kick for the side of my knee with his left leg. At the same time he thrust forward with the knife his left hand, now held with its point towards me. Rather than block the thrust I grabbed his wrist from below with my right hand, my claws slicing straight through his arm. The severed hand continued forward and bounced off my jacket, unable to even pierce the fabric with its momentum.

His kick landed though and dropped me to my knee as he backed off, cradling his stump. There was a flash of light and the ruined hand flew back and reattached itself though, I could still see fear in the assassin’s eyes. Obviously I was proving to be a harder fight than he had expected. He flexed his reattached hand and drew a third dagger, his first having been dropped when it had collided with my jacket. An audible hum began to emit from his body and the air around his outline began to waver and shift due to magical build up.

I knew I needed to end this quickly. Hotel security would doubtless be on their way up and when they arrived the assassin would flee rather than fight their mage. For the first time in the fight I took the offensive, surging forwards and leaving myself open. As wary as he was he couldn’t resist the opportunity and slipped inside my reach, his right hand delivering the strike as he dodged to his left, sliding under my right arm. The blow was aimed straight at my heart. Or where my heart should be.

His knife hit my shirt and depressed it into the hole before slipping between the buttons and hitting empty space. The lack of opposition to his blow confused him for the second I needed. My right hand swung up and caught his stomach, passing through the shimmering air with an audible pop, though I felt no resistance. The claws lacerated his belly, punching deep into the meat of his stomach. Blood spurted from his mouth and his eyes dilated in pain. I tore my hand upwards and pulled it free; ripping the wounds wide open and watched blood erupted from his ruptured chest. He dropped to the ground, landing on his side, with vacant eyes. His knives clattered from limp fingers onto the floor.

I watched him for a few seconds, waiting to see if magic would revive him. When he stayed a bloody pole of flesh I knew he had been a mage himself and would stay dead. Crouching down I made to quickly tear the block clothing off him but as soon as my fingers touched him my sight was stolen by a vision.

One of the Lords of Eul sat in a tall chair, face covered by darkness. In front of him the assassin kneeled in his black suit, eyes facing the ground. Words passed between them but they were indistinct and hard to hear. The few I managed to catch were informative enough though. Rorak, kill, ambush, payment. As the assassin stood to leave the vision ended and I was snapped back to reality.

I stood frozen over the corpse for a few seconds processing what had happened. I had never experienced anything like that before. Was this one of my new powers, to see evil in action? A thumping on the door brought me back and I quickly slashed open the man’s suit. Beneath it he wore a second white bodysuit with a green sash across the chest. The mark of the Eul Mage’s Guild was stamped proudly on the sash in gold print. Confirmation my vision had been a truthful one.

Hearing the lock begin to turn I ran at the left door along the far wall, slashing it down with my claws as the front door pushed open. I emerged into a large bedroom with a king sized bed. The floor was covered in a thick white carpet which happily pulled the dust from my boots onto itself. I didn’t even notice the bed’s decor as I head straight for the window.

Instinctively I lashed out with my power. An arrowhead made of grey light appeared above my shoulder and shot forward. It hit the window and engulfed it in grey light. Surprised I nevertheless plunged straight into it wondering what it led to.

With a pop I reappeared where I had entered the city, falling out of a wall covered in the same grey light. I unceremoniously rolled into the wall opposite, grunting as I smacked my forehead against cold stone. I pushed myself to my knees and turned just in time to see the grey window disappear. “What the hell was that …” I whispered in confusion.

Taking a breather I eventually got to my feet. As useful as it had been I wondered why my ascension had changed my power so radically. I hoped I could master them before too long. Judging by this incident I would need them before long. I took a moment to examine myself in the darkness, checking whether I was presentable or not. I couldn’t find any tears in the clothing, the lucky stab having slipped inside my shirt rather than piercing it.

In terms of cleanliness however, the same could not be said. The front of my shirt and trousers were covered in blood from where I had torn the assassin’s chest open. I wouldn’t dare venture into the streets with these clothes let alone visit the guild.

Spoiler: Lost Heart 4-1 

Looking around I wondered where I could a change of clothes. I pondered breaking into a nearby by home but dismissed the thought immediately. I was shocked I had even thought of doing such. Putting the thought far from my mind I decided to try and find a bathhouse or pool where I could wash my clothes enough to be presentable. Turning from the path I had originally taken I wandered the opposite way as I tried to remember the layout of Eul.

***

Evening was falling as I finally arrived at the Eul Mage’s Guild. It had taken a long time to stealthily navigate to the nearest bathhouse and find an empty room to clean his clothes in. By the time I had gotten out and found a tailor to buy a new suit from it had almost been dark. Luckily the Guild never closed, its services always in demand. I was now dressed in a black suit with a black shirt. I was hoping the contrast would help my skin appear paler. While nothing had come of it yet word of the grey skinned man would get around soon enough and that was when people would start asking questions.

Shrugging off my worries I pushed open the doors to the Guild. Unlike the hotel the Guild was all dark woods. Large Oak doors guarded the entrance while ebony wood was layered on the outside to present a grim and intimidating look. The inside was well let by mage fires which cast great shadows everywhere there light did not illuminate. The floors were maple while the walls were more ebony. A massive oak desk resided directly opposite the entrance staffed by 2 receptionists who would be junior mages themselves. To my left and right were waiting rooms, each kept bright by a roaring fireplace with a variety of chairs scattered around for people to wait in. A door lay to each side of the desk. I knew from experience the one on the right led to the mage’s quarters and their private areas. The one on the left led to the guild rooms where business was conducted.

Though there was a small crowd waiting I simply pushed my way through and walked up to the receptionists, ignoring the angry mutters of the people in line. As I walked I could feel myself passing through multiple levels of magical wards. With an ease born of years of practice I hid my own power from them, unwilling to let the guild know they had a touched among them. Over half the mages swore allegiance to a Lord first and the guild second. I couldn’t afford to be picked up by the wrong one and have my presence given away.

Putting on my best impression of an arrogant businessman I tapped the desk with my right index finger impatiently, “I demand to see a high level mage immediately. I will not be kept waiting.”

“Sorry sir.” the male on the left replied, “You’ll have to wait-”

“I don’t think you understood me.” I snarled, slipping the royal crest of Aehraut around to the front of my neck where it was visible, “I need to see a mage now.”

The mage looked at the crest nervously. It had been a gift from Ricas after the first year of our partnership, a mark of trust. I wore it on a gold chain around my neck and had rarely used it. In Aehraut I had been well known and in Karthas it would only have gotten me killed. But in Eul I was unknown, and even though Aehraut was no more in land or titles the crest still bore power.

Glancing at the other receptionist nervously he waved me around and led me to the left door, his partner giving him a glare as he left. He opened the door and ushered me through, hurriedly closing it behind him. His speed worried me but for now I was willing to attribute that to nervousness over treachery. Showing the crest had been a calculated risk, it could alert the wrong Lord to my presence here but with the assassin dead they would already know Aehraut agents were around. At least they still didn’t know which agents they were.

The young mage led me up 2 flights of steps to the top floor of the guild rooms. The walls here were painted white and hid the material they were made of though by brushing my hand against them I knew it was metal. The floor too was metal judging by the sound of my footsteps. Opening the third door on the left he ushered me in and closed the door behind him. Inside the room was fairly basic. A table with 2 chairs, one either side, sat in the middle while a bookshelf holding a variety of spell tomes took up the right wall. An old man in a green robe sat in the chair opposite me reading a tome from the bookshelf.

“Sir,” the receptionist began, making a respectful bow to acknowledge the mage, “This man bears the crest of Aehraut and requested a mage. I felt it best to bring him straight to you.”

The mage had ignored my presence, concentrating on his book, until Aehraut was mentioned. His eyes immediately leapt to me and began to bore into me. I could see both hope and distrust in those eyes. “Thank you Los, you can return to the reception now.” the mage’s voice was powerful and commanding. Los turned and exited the room without hesitation, the lock clicking behind him.

Closing the book he had been reading the mage stood and walked over to me, “May I see that crest?” he asked using the same strong voice. Grabbing the collar of my shirt I pulled it down to reveal the crest. The mage waved his veiny, gnarled hand over it releasing a small puff of magic. “Where did you get that crest?”

“It was given to me by King Ricas nine years ago.” I replied, my suspicions confirmed. The mage was obviously a supporter of Aehraut but he wasn’t going to trust me just because I had a crest. Plenty of Aehraut nobles and heroes had died over the last decade and it was possible a crest had fallen into the wrong hands. I could see only one way to make him trust me.

I held up my hand and allowed my claws to extend from it, “I am Ker’Tiaan, Angel of the Sisterhood.” I said as they emerged. I could tell that the mage had magically sealed the room when I had entered, even before he knew of the crest, and was safe in revealing myself. However I prayed that he was strong enough to be supporting the sealing subconsciously when he reacted to the claws. His eyes widened in shock and his knees wobbled before he collapsed into the chair simply staring at me.

“It’s real.” he stammered, voice shaking, “You’re actually here.” He took a few deep breaths and seemed to regain his composure. “Does the king still live? Is there still a chance for my country?”

“Ricas lives but he has left his lost lands. We are regathering our forces to strike back and I need your help for that.”

“Certainly certainly!” he exclaimed. His lifted his hands towards me, the tips hovering over my face but not touching, “You appear ailed my lord, what is wrong.”

I laughed at his concern not having realised a mage would assume my appearance was the reason I was here. “There is nothing wrong with me sir, what I need is to locate a friend.”

[DoughGuy]

Ok finally an update! Umm if anyone knows how to change a thread's title that information would be amazing.

[DoughGuy]

Inspiration struck at work and I wrote up the start of Tiaan's life. If I ever write the prequel to Lost Hearts this would probably be the first chapter. As with Lost Hearts itself I haven't edited this so forgive me if the writing itself is subpar.

Spoiler: The Birth of Ker'Tiaan 

It all started with the birth of an angel. Brought from his mother’s womb by human hands bright, white wings heralded his arrival. But his first action was almost a sin. Uncontrolled power released itself and golden claws grew from his hands. The midwife watched in horror as the child giggled and the claws swept into his mother’s chest … and passed through harmlessly. For the child was an angel and would do no evil.

It was clear that the child was one of the touched, those who supposedly bore the blood of the gods in their veins. They possessed powers far beyond that of a normal human. Increased strength and speed, the ability to fly and many more abilities unique to each touched based on the aspect they embodied. It was also clear that the child had the aspect of light and the mother was overjoyed for her child to be such.

***

In the very north of the land, just south of the impassable Histan Mountains there lay a haven of sorts. Within a sacred sisterhood made their home. In ages past a touched with the aspect of light had amassed a following of women. Widows, orphans, slaves and victims had flocked to her cause as she promised them a better life.

In the north she had built them a safe haven and in return they worshipped her as a god. As time passed the sisterhood only grew in strength as the touched’s influence grew and it became a thriving town. In time the touched grew old and retired to the haven to live out the end of her life and was eventually buried there as a heroine.

When the sisterhood heard of the birth of the new angel they responded with awe and worship. For a touched of the light aspect to be born again, and so close to the haven, was obviously as sign their saviour had returned. Though the child was a boy the sisterhood kept to their views, unwilling to dismiss such an obvious miracle. They sent a group out from their haven to retrieve the child and bring him back to the haven.

Though they were far from civilisation and all but a myth to most people the sisterhood remained strong. Many exotic plants and spics grew at the foot of the mountain range and the sisterhood excelled at cultivating them. Many dubious merchants would make the long trip north to trade with them. In payment for a large volume of plants and spices they would give to the sisterhood young girls, sometimes orphaned, sometimes more illegally acquired. For the sisterhood had no need for money but needed sisters.

The weak minded were trained as fanatics, women who would give their lives for the sisterhood. The strong of will were trained as their leaders, those who could preach the way of light and handle training the distressed young girls who joined their ranks.

***


When word reached the angel’s mother that the sisterhood was coming for her son it almost broke her. The boy’s father had died in the spring 2 months ago and could not protect them. It seemed her precious boy would be torn from her bosom before he could call her mum. In desperation she turned to the village priest and begged him to name her son before his first birthday as was custom. The priest agreed, in return for her body, he would break tradition and do as she wished. With great regret she accepted.

***

And so before the boy was 3 months old he was named Ker. A name which meant demon or destroyer in the old tongue. The potency of a touched’s name is great indeed, and by naming her son such a vile thing the mother hoped to scare the sisterhood off.

When the sisterhood’s group arrived in the village they were infuriated with the priest’s actions. They could not dare bring a child named demon back to their sisterhood, it would be a heresy. Instead they took the only action they could and threatened the priest with divine punishment unless he followed their wishes. For while a child’s name could not be changed, they could give him a second name to alter the meaning of the first.

And so the angel became named Ker’Tiaan, Hunter of Demons. Such a name was acceptable to the haven and they tore him from his mother’s arms and returned to the haven. The child would grow up happily there, unaware that there was a life he was missing and believing the sisterhood to be his family. He would never know of his mother who tried so hard to save him, and took her own life when she failed.

Spoiler: The Youth of Ker'Tiaan 

The child arrived in the sisterhood’s haven at the age of 4 months. Immediately he was immersed in their culture and raised onto a pedestal as their saviour. Each day he was ritually bathed by the sisters to cleanse him of the sins he may have witnessed in the outside world. He was dressed in pure white silk robes as befitting his status.

Yet though he was worshipped and deeply cared for the boy also grew up alone. There were very few children of his age in the haven and those that were were not allowed to be with the boy lest they hurt him. The child grew up in the company of old woman who viewed him as a god with no outside contact.

At the age of 5 the elders decided to give one of the sister’s to the boy as a guardian. A young girl of the same age named Kellan was chosen. A girl of 5 herself she had blue eyes and golden blonde hair. She had a plump, cherub face and smiled a great deal. At the age of 3 she had been traded to the sisterhood after her parents died in a tragic house fire. She had been taught in the way of the sisterhood for the 2 years since then and she was deemed dedicated enough to their beliefs to be appointed the boy’s guardian.

The relationship between Tiaan and Kellan began as the sisterhood expected, the young girl viewing the boy as a reverential object, afraid to touch him or speak out of turn. In response the boy viewed the girl as a servant who was responsible for his wellbeing and happiness. The leaders were happy with this arrangement and in time, reduced their supervision of the pair, confident they would handle themselves appropriately.

But the boy and girl were still children at heart and nothing would change that. As time passed they became more comfortable with one another, honorifics slipped and orders become requests. Names became nicknames and practice became playtime. By the end of their first year together the pair were the best of friends and spending every day together enjoying life as only children could.

And they were smart children too. They knew enough to know the sisterhood would not permit their actions and what Tiaan would call “blasphemous contact”. If the matrons found out the pair were sure they would be separated and so they hid their friendship. When they were watched the two did their best to pretend how they had been when they first met. It was a simple thing to them, a game of make believe that they played in front of others rather than alone.

At the age of 10 Kellan began her official training as Tiaan’s protector. She was schooled in the ways of weaponry and physical combat. Trained to attack with fury and defend with stoicism. Tiaan also began his training though his was much different. None of the sister’s truly knew how his power worked, relying on old texts detailing the last touched’s power. He took what he could from these teachings though, learning to control his claws, morph them into blades and summon balls of light which shot rays of energy. He found he could form small shields of light and heal minor wounds.

During this time of training the pair saw each other little, only meeting for an hour each evening before they departed to their quarters. This small window was filled with quiet chatter about their day, both children too tired to do anything but talk. It was because of his tiredness that Tiaan missed the first signs of Kellan’s change. The formal tone she picked up talking to him, the stiff back and wary eyes. But the boy was young and exhausted, he was simply happy to be talking to his friend no matter how she sounded.

Spoiler: Tiaan's Escape 

As time went on the change in Kellan’s personality became too much for even Tiaan to miss. Rather than the childhood friend she had been for most of his life she slowly became one of the sisters, treating him with reverence and worship. Her replies became short and curt, always with a hint of servility. Tiaan was both frightened and worried by the change. He couldn’t understand why his friend was changing so much.

Desperate to find an answer he did the only thing he could think of and went to the elders asking if they knew why she was changing. It never occurred to the young boy that the elder themselves could be the reason for the change. Unable to deny their god an answer they explained to him the truth behind Kellan’s presence in his life, as a protector and a guardian. But never as a friend. Her friendship was in fact, something they believed detracted from her role as a guardian.

As part of her new training she had been put through rigorous prayer sessions which removed her need for companionship beyond Tiaan as her god. She was changed from a young girl who loved her best friend to a fanatical servant who would die for him. The elders had been so proud of her new attitude that they neglected to think of what Tiaan himself had wanted.

The boy, aged 13 now, was distraught at the news. He pleaded for the elders to undo what they had done, to turn his friend back into his friend. But they said they could not, once fanaticism had been reached the person could not turn back until death. For the first time in his life Tiaan felt true sadness, the grief of a friend, his only friend, lost. A friend who had been lost to him because she was lost, to him.

Unable to bear the blame he placed upon himself coupled with the heartache of loss he left the sisterhood that night. He simply walked from the gates, unquestioned by the guards, and left thinking he would never return.

***

For a time he simply wandered, allowing his identity to be lost within the beauty of nature. Though the sisterhood was located on the edge of the Histan Mountains which were north of the Uyar plains there existed a lush forest on the border between the two. Barely a kilometre wide it ran for a hundred miles either side of the haven. It was from within that the sisterhood hunted much of its meat and even some plants it was unable to grow within the haven.

Between sun dappled leaves and shadowy fronds Tiaan journeyed, taking no landmarks and leaving no trail home. He had decided to let the forest choose where he would arrive on the other side and make a new life from there. During the day he hunted the animals himself using the skills he had learnt at the haven. But though he was a fighter he was not a hunter and he ended up relying more on his arrows than his claws. He drank from the many streams which bisected the forest and were fed by the mountain rains. At night he slept in the canopy of the trees letting the soft chirping of the forest birds ease him off to sleep.

***

On the second day of travel he spotted the inner edge of the forest. Through the gap in the trees he could see the vast plains stretching outwards. The sight scared him slightly. For a boy who had never before left the Haven apart from small trips to the forest or base of the mountains such a vast, empty space was a daunting sight. He turned away from it and set off deeper into the forest hoping he could find a better place to emerge.

It was also on the second day he felt the eyes of pursuit upon him, a feeling of paranoia which would not go away. He spent much of the day glancing over his shoulder watching for signs of pursuit. He was sure it was a sister or a group of them sent to retrieve him and take him back to the monastery. But if there was someone pursuing him they were good at hiding themselves for he could catch no glimpse of them. Eventually as sunset approached he decided to issue a challenge, an order even, to force his pursuers into the light.

Bringing his claws into existence and summoning a swarm of light arrows he turned to face his rear. “I know you’re there!” he roared, “Show yourselves or leave me in peace!” The swam of arrows split into 2 groups and rotated diagonally across his body forming a X of light across his chest. He crouched into a fighting stance and stood ready to meet his hunters. He had no wish to fight but he knew the sisterhood would not simply let him leave.

The forest was silent as he waited as if even the animals were waiting for the challenge to be answered. To his back the sun slowly sank below the horizon and the shadows grew in length and depth. And with the light’s disappearance Tiaan saw his hunter. For his eyes glowed with a golden light and all living creatures were illuminated to his sight by a bright white glow. And in front of him, hidden by the trunk of a great oak tree, stood the figure of a 13 year old girl.

“Kellan?” he breathed, arrows blinking out of existence as he recognised her, “What are you doing?”

Her chest heaved up and down, her breathing heavy as she stepped out from behind the tree and revealed herself. She was dressed in brown leather armour and wore black lace up boots. A matching brown backpack was on her back, held to her body by 2 brown straps over her shoulders. Her long blonde hair was tied into a bun on the back of her head. Her bright blue eyes were wide with fear as she panted. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before the words came out. “Ker’Tiaan. By order of the sisterhood I have been sent to bring you back. Please submit to my authority.” she said in a strong voice. But the power of her voice couldn’t hide the quivering of her lip or the look in her eyes, the silent plea for him to simply follow her home.

Tiaan was as shocked by her words as her appearance. The sisterhood had sent her to bring him back. Not a proper group, not a full grown sister or even an escort of younger sisters. Just a single young girl on her own with nothing but a plea. The boy was too young to realise the truth behind their actions, that the elders had manipulated his feelings by sending the one person who could bring him back without fighting. All he saw was his best friend begging for him to come back.

“Kellan I … I can’t.” he said, tears welling in his eyes, “I can’t go back after what they did to you. They changed you, they tore away our friendship. They only care about who I am, they don’t care about me.” His voice rose as he spoke threatening to break. The young girl stood silently even as he finished speaking, her mouth set in a hard line even as tears ran down her cheeks.

“Come with me, run away from their teachings. We can go anywhere together! The sisterhood survived for years without me, they can keep on surviving without their precious idol.” his voice broke as he began yelling and his own eyes were overrun by tears, “We don’t need them!” he stomped his foot onto the ground to emphasis his point.

“But I need you.” Kellan whispered, “And I am one of them.” She thought back to the vows she had taken, vows of loyalty to the sisterhood and to Tiaan. She couldn’t betray the sisterhood who had given her this life nor could she betray her friend and god. Her hands were clenched so hard the nails cut the skin and drew blood. Her entire body shook as she tried to think of a way to help Tiaan without betraying the sisters. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head furiously yelling, “You can’t leave. You can’t leave me alone there!” she opened her eyes to stare right at him and screamed, “Don’t abandon me Tiaan.”

The forest was silent as the 2 stared at each other. Kellan’s eyes were a turmoil of fear, anger and love, Tiaan’s wide with shock and affection. He took one step forward towards her, sticks and leaves crunching underfoot, and followed it with another. 2 more steps and he flung his arms around Kellan in brotherly embrace. The pair cried on each other’s shoulder’s as the moon passed overhead.

[DoughGuy]

*shameless bump* Part 3 of Lost Hearts is up. Little stuck here cause Tiaan needs some new pants :/

[G]

Nice work, dude. ^^ Also -

Ok finally an update! Umm if anyone knows how to change a thread's title that information would be amazing.

Just ask a staff member. ^^ What would you like it changed to?

[DoughGuy]

Thanks!
And could I have it changed to "Dough's Bakery of Books"? Thanks again

[DoughGuy]

Been awhile since I bumped this for updates. Lost Heart 4-1 is up and another part of Tiaan's youth too. 4-2 and a third youth story should follow soon.

[DoughGuy]

I wouldn't normally bump this for a single update but I really need feedback for Tiaan's Escape. Did I overdo it, how did it make you feel, did it make sense etc Any constructive criticism is appreciated

[Bee Bear]

More.