Destiny

 **__ Chapter 1:- A Story Is Told __**  **__ Chapter 2:- The King’s Deepest Regret __**  **__ Chapter 3:- The Brilliance of Light __**  **__ Chapter 4:- The Dead Awoken __** 
 * __ Prologue __**
 * Long ago in the land of Az Lagnì, a tale was unfolding. A tale of Destiny, Truth and Freedom. A tale of courage, faith, grace, hope, joy, love, peace and wisdom. Of how death is just the beginning and how what was forgotten can soon be remembered. What was lost can be found and what lies in the past once lay in the future. This is a tale of magic, sorcery and necromancy. A tale where good always defeats evil however there is a twist. For in this tale, evil will always exist and the teachings of Eli seem to have been forgotten. The world is corrupt! But this tale shows it is not, this tale show that the world is in balance. For good to exist, so does evil and for light to exist, so does dark. The world depends on these balances and if one is greater than the other there is no telling what might happen. This is a tale of following your heart and fighting for what you believe in. For courage, faith, grace, hope, joy, love, peace and wisdom are all emotions of the human heart. Your destiny is just a guide written by a woman who seems to know all. Sometimes, we drift from the path our hearts tell us, other times, we commit a sin. When you follow your heart your destiny changes and every time you drift away from the policy set down by the Great One, you change your destiny. But when your future becomes your destiny, how is it possible to follow your heart when no matter what you do, you somehow end up following your destiny rather than your heart? This tale will answer this question, for all it takes is one push to knock down the chain of dominoes, the chain of events which must happen if the Young Keeper is to finally find what he lost... **
 * Iris was sat at her bedroom window watching outside as the blacksmith’s sons jousted in the courtyard below. She was the princess of Az Lagnì and a beautiful sight at that. Her window was two stories up from the courtyard, her beauty left for all to see. Her wavy, black hair fell gracefully far below her shoulders. Her eyes were blue and her cheeks rosy. Her slender figure was framed beautifully by the linen dress of purple and white which she wore. Her skin was flawless and her posture impeccable. A maid walked in through the door and placed a glass tray on the table in front of her. On the tray was a fine bone china bowl with some soup in it. There was also a glass of the finest grape wine. The maid curtsied and left the room, saying nothing. Truly, being a princess was a pitiful existence. **
 * Iris waited a while and then lifted the golden spoon to eat her soup. She continued to watch the men spar in the courtyard below as she slowly sipped her soup and drank her wine. As she finished eating, the two sparring ceased their practise as one of them lost balance at a sharp pierce from the other. She laughed with humour as she watched and the three looked up at her. **
 * “My lady,” he called up to her as he rose to his feet. “Does it humour you that I should fall in battle against my foe?” **
 * “It only humours me that Jacques has beaten you for the first time,” she replied, the smile not leaving her face. **
 * “Excuse my brother’s weakness my lady!” said Jacques as he bowed low. **
 * “Yeah, Tristan is wounded by Phineus’ arrows of love!” chuckled the one who was originally watching the two. **
 * “Shut-up Romeo!” grimaced Tristan. **
 * Iris smiled at Tristan’s embarrassment and then turned away at the sight of a visitor at her door. She called to the unknown person to enter and in walked a man. He wasn’t very smartly dressed and was also quite short. He had shoulder length blonde curls and electric blue eyes. His skin was tanned and his smile was enough to brighten up a darkened room. He wore a purple jacket over a bare torso. Muscular arms protruded from the short sleeves and black gauntlets rested above his hands. He wore black leather breeched with brown boots which came to his knees. A medallion rested around his neck with the sign of the Keepers engraved into it. Burns of his bounds scarred the tops of his hands and his cheeks shined with power and strength. He truly was a man of great loyalty and courage. **
 * “My lady!” he exclaimed as he bowed low, showing his respect. “My Lord Oruc extends his greetings. I am his state of Foreign Affairs. My name is Sithnar!” **
 * “Lady Iris accepts his greetings and extends her own. Tell me Sithnar, why is it you have come at such a time?” she asked politely. **
 * “I came on request of my lord. As you know, he is due to attend the banquet tonight and he wishes for you to ignore any rumours that have been spread.” **
 * “Such as?” **
 * “As you know, my lord is working to consolidate power in Hasaghar at the moment. There have been rumours that speculate the fact that he may be wishing to extend his power to all four corners of Halsgar. This is not true. Oruc is securing a perfectly good throne of his own. He respects the elves of Az Landen forest and he respects your independence and urges that you not judge him on the speakings of the Hasagharian council. For they disagree with his ways.” **
 * “Is that so? I was under the impression that he wanted my throne and was here to propose to me.” **
 * “Oh! I see!” he sniggered to himself but Iris did not share the gesture. “I see that Dangur has got the better of your suspicions. I assure that Oruc is not the Kings son. He is rather the son of Calvin the younger, not that of the tyrant king. You see, Dangur is his...tutor...if you like. He is teaching Oruc to govern his country. We tend to see it a different way however. As you know; Dangur is a Foresaken and would say anything to protect his real lord, The Shì, he is content on creating havoc and deception for Oruc.” **
 * “Tell me...Sithnar! Why do you call it Hasaghar when indeed it is Auksendur? You know it has been changed over time...” **
 * “And now my lord calls for a restoration. Calvin the younger began it and my lord is here to finish it. He wishes to restore it to its once honourable ways and respectable culture but that comes at a price. He may be old enough to receive the throne, but Dangur disagrees. My lord is not of age but he shares the wisdom of many a great person, not to mention the belief in one almighty god and he respects all cultures of the world. I respect my lord you see, and like many others, I value his opinion. I swear to you that Oruc wishes nothing of you, he simply wishes an ally with this kingdom and its surrounding provinces. He values what people think of him as he believes that it is the people who will put him to the test, they are the ones who decide whether or not he will make it as King.” **
 * “It seems I have misjudged him. Please extend my apologies to your lord,” Sithnar and bowed his head, a smile upon his face. “I must ask; who does Lord Oruc attend with tonight?” **
 * “Me of course, unfortunately Dangur as well. Also with him is Sabina, Lady of the Keep, and Livia, the people’s champion.” **
 * “You will welcome them on my behalf and please do not forget to extent my apologies for misjudging his character. Also, remind him that the mutant of which he travels with are not to enter the castle, they are to remain under restriction, for I know of their loyalties.” **
 * “As does my lord. I shall tell him and see thee tonight my lady, and happy birthday!” he bowed low and turned on his heel leaving her chamber, leaving her, once again, alone in the quiet solitude of the royal chambers. **
 * That night, Iris was preparing for the ball when there was a knock at the door. Iris shouted to the visitor and in walked her father. Her father’s name was Rubuen. He was a proud man and very old, at least fifty. His gray hair reached his shoulders and he had a short beard with moustache. He had clothed himself in a brown and green robe, his silver crown glistening on the top of his head. He looked at his daughter with quiet approval and a strange familiarity. **
 * “Happy Birthday my dear!” he exclaimed as he hugged her. **
 * “Thank you father!” she replied as she returned to the chair in front of the dressing table. **
 * “You look so much like your mother. Here...I have a gift for you.” Out of his sleeve, he pulled a single silver chain. Strung onto the chain was a charm. A flower made of opal embroidered the middle. A thick, silver, tribal pattern twisted around it, the engraving making them seem like vines embracing the flower. As Rubuen put it around her neck, colours glistened within the opal, colours of blue, yellow and pink, the colours of The Heroic Three. This necklace was more than just a gift; it was a legend, for this was one of her mothers’ two Lights of Orion. As her father withdrew his hands, Iris stared into the brilliance of the shining opal. It dazed her for a moment and she saw his face, the face of her grandfather; Jason Orion, destroyer of Gallow. A smile appeared on the princess’s face and acceptance of her title seemed to reign throughout her. Finally, she could say that she was proud to be the princess of Az Lagnì. **
 * “Beautiful isn’t it?” exclaimed her father. “’tis a shame I could not find the other one.” **
 * “It does not matter, for both are a legend within themselves.” She held the charm with two fingers and rotated it so it caught the light. She stared at the patterns it made in the mirror, the beautiful shadow which it cast over her reflection. **
 * “Your guests are waiting my darling!” her father said suddenly. She must have been staring for quite a while as her father was know by her bedroom door waiting for her. She jumped and dropped the charm so that it fell and cast a brilliance of even more colours across her embroidered lace gown. She stood and straightened herself up, appalled that she had slipped into a sudden fantasy that seemed to have lasted forever. She closed the music box which had long broken and left the room, following her father down to the entrance hall where she would welcome her guests. **
 * “Presenting K-Prince Oruc of Auksendur!” shouted Dangur, a Foresaken of the Royal Guard at Auksendur. **
 * “Hasaghar!” shouted Oruc’s adversaries as he dismounted his horse outside the huge oak doors of the palace. Oruc said something to one of his guards, who Iris recognised to be Sithnar, and he took the horse and led the rest of his adversaries away. Only Dangur, Livia and Sabina remained. Livia was the people of Auksendur’s champion. She was the one who made sure they had a voice within the corrupt council. Her brown hair blew across her bony face but nothing could hide those blue eyes. She was a pretty thing, delicate and sweet. She looked almost serial in her beauty, but there was something Iris did not understand. Why did she of all people wear the Crest of the Forest around her neck? She was only seventeen! How could she be a Princess of the Wood? Sabina looked a little younger than her. She too had a sense of purity and innocence about her. She was one of the many ladies of the Keep at Auksendur. A blonde, serene and somewhat wise woman. Dangur, the embodiment of evil! The one species everyone in the whole of Igstan feared. He was a Foresaken, one of those shunned by the Light and succumbed to darkness, doomed to spend eternity in Hell when they died. They were originally banished to Degstan, but in recent years had expanded over the border and so far corrupted every king of Hasaghar, turning it into Auksendur; Hells Gates. Oruc was a charming man, handsome even. His black hair was short and a beard and moustache covered his chin. He had matured quickly for a seventeen year old. He wore mostly black, almost as if he wanted to seem simple rather than great. After all, where were the glamorous robes that usually adorned any King in Igstan? But then, why had Dangur called him a Prince? **
 * Oruc strode over to Iris and smiled at her. He inclined his head, showing his respect for the royal family of Az Lagnì. **
 * “Welcome King Oruc!” exclaimed King Rubuen. **
 * “May I remind you that our //Prince// has not been crowned yet?” interrupted Dangur. **
 * “But may I remind you Dangur, that Oruc has won the hearts of his people as well as their respect?” remarked Livia. Dangur muttered something under his breath but did not say anything. **
 * “With the formalities over,” started Oruc. “May I say that it is an honour to be in the presence of such an impressive palace? Never have I seen more grand streets. I only wish that one day, that I can do the same to my own kingdom and return it to its original splendour.” **
 * “And let us hope you will succeed!” proclaimed Iris, casting her eyes over the troubled Prince. **
 * “Thank you my lady! I shall see thee inside and Happy Birthday my Princess!” he bowed low and led the others into the ballroom. **
 * After about an hour of gifts and formalities from Princes and Kings from all over Igstan, Iris was finally free to enjoy her ball. She watched the people dance and wished she could dance too. A blonde stranger walked by, bowing low as he passed. Iris sighed deeply and almost didn’t notice the blacksmith watching her. **
 * “Is something wrong my lady?” he questioned. Iris started, looking over at her visitor, realising that it was just Tristan. **
 * “Tristan, you startled me,” she said, seeming relieved, a sweet smile on her face. **
 * “Then may I apologize, for I only wish to give you my gift.” **
 * “Oh please no more!” the smile disappeared from her face and she looked away. Tristan looked over his shoulder at Jacques and Romeo who both signalled forward with their hands. **
 * “It is only a simple one!” Romeo slammed his hand on his face and watched through two fingers. “It is an Iris...as beautiful as yourself!” Jacques smiled, nodding his head as Iris turned to look at Tristan a single Iris in his hand. She took it and smelt it, as if she was smelling the sweet smell of freedom. Once again, the smile returned. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. **
 * “Thank you Tristan!” **
 * “It’s not a problem!” he bowed low, and he and his brothers returned to their father’s side, watching the ball take place and not long after, they too were dancing. Iris could only stare at the gift she had just recieved. It’s beauty and grace made her feel free to run in the fields of the kingdom and not care about public opinion. **
 * “Have you ever danced, my lady?” she looked up to see Oruc standing by her side. His blue eyes seemed to see right through her, right through the fake shield she had formed to keep her emotions from showing. He saw right through to the core, right through to the pain she felt. **
 * “I am afraid I have not!” she replied. **
 * “But have you learnt!” she nodded slowly. “My lord?” Rubuen signalled his approval with his hand and Oruc bowed, extending out his hand. Iris smiled, placed the flower on the arm of her chair and took his hand. Oruc led her over to where everyone else was dancing and he led with grace and speed, showing he truly was a talented man. **
 * “Are you enjoying yourself my lady?” he asked after a while. **
 * “Yes actually, I am!” she replied. **
 * “You should do this more often.” **
 * “None ask!” **
 * “Then they are blind! May I first say that I am sorry for the...um...abruptness of Dangur’s actions, I am not like the King before me. I wish to return the kingdom to its honour and dignity that it once had when my father; King Calvin, ruled Hasaghar. Unfortunately, Dangur does not approve.” **
 * “But my lord...adversaries do not matter. As long as you please the people and listen to them, nothing can go wrong. Not all Kings are corrupt for free will allows us to choose what we say, do and think. Actions may speak louder than words, but the heart is more valuable than Divina. As long as you listen to your heart, you’ll know what to do. And if you stray from the path set down for you by The Great One, than you have sinned, for it means that you have followed your heart.” **
 * The music stopped and Oruc swung Iris out and they bowed to each other. Iris returned to her father’s side and Oruc to that of Dangur’s. As Iris returned to her throne, she realised that at last, there may be hope for the people of Hasaghar, for Sithnar had been telling the truth all along. **
 * That evening, Iris was taking a stroll in the Royal Gardens. A huge, black shape could be seen at the end of the path and a black figure knelt by her mother’s grave stone and placed a flower on the dirt. The figure kissed its hand and touched the grave stone and rose to its feet. Iris quickened her pace as the imposter straightened something on the huge shadow cast by the shape at the edge of the garden. As she got closer, she saw a huge red dragon and a man straightening a few bags on its saddle. **
 * “Jacques?” she called as he turned to look at her. His black hair was slightly scruffy and his blue eyes were clouded with weariness and uncertainty. He turned away and continued to straighten the saddle bags. **
 * “Don’t try and stop me!” he exclaimed. **
 * “I wasn’t! Where are you going!” he stopped and turned to face her. **
 * “To the forest, I’m going to learn the ways of a Keeper Prodical, the highest of all ranks.” **
 * “But you’re not even Rune Bound yet!” **
 * “No...but I will be soon!” **
 * “Why the sudden plans to go?” **
 * “I just need to clear my head.” **
 * “You should give our father a chance.” **
 * “It’s not that! It’s easy to forgive him...but it’s not easy to forget.” **
 * “But that’s what you do with family; you forgive and you forget.” **
 * “If you ask me, it’s too little too late.” **
 * “It’s been seventeen years Jacques, surely that’s long enough?” She strode over and faced him, placing her hands on his rough cheeks. **
 * “I know...too long! Please know that it is not my choice to leave you behind.” He took her hands and held them tightly in his own. His eyes became watery with tears that would never spill. Iris looked on into his eyes as he touched the Light of Orion around her neck and then revealed his own. **
 * “You had it!” **
 * “Mum gave it to me before she died, I’ve kept it ever since. Iris, stay true and whatever you do, remember Tristan’s only twenty!” she laughed, as did he. **
 * “He’s not my type!” **
 * “Of course not, you prefer to be wept off your feet by a dashing Prince.” **
 * “He’s too young!” **
 * “Mr Right will come eventually! Good bye Iris...don’t forget me!” he kissed her hands and mounted his dragon. “Say goodbye Maron!” the dragon roared loudly and Iris flinched at the loudness of its roar. **
 * “How could I forget you!” she called up to Jacques. “Just promise me one thing!” **
 * “What’s that?” **
 * “That you’ll come back and visit!” **
 * “Of course, it’s torture to leave Romeo with Tristan.” Again, the sibling smiled. It was amazing how after all the hardships they had suffered in their lives that they could love each other as they did. None blamed each other for what happened and that was the true beauty of this sense of family. **
 * Later that night, Iris was preparing for bed when a loud clatter from outside her chambers caught her attention. She placed her brush on the dressing table and retrieved her dressing gown from the bedpost. She walked carefully over to the door and opened it slowly. Once outside, she looked around to see nothing but the empty corridors of the empty royal chambers. She looked out the window and down into the square of the city to once again, see nothing but the darkness of the night. All was quiet an all seemed well, but how wrong she was! **
 * A scream pierces the darkness. Blood splatters onto the floor. Bangs claim the night. Sin are committed. Wrongs are written. Imbalance is inevitable for evil reigns and corruptness rules Hells Land. The young Prince has no hope of ever being forgiven, especially by the people of Az Lagnì, for their beloved will never return. Their days will be filled with sorrow and their Kings heart, will be filled with regret. But there’s one thing everyone forgets...the light shines on, through the darkness, through the evil and through the fear. **
 * Four years on from Iris’ kidnapping is where our adventure begins. It began and ended in this same place; Az Lagni, the capital of the mountainated city. It happened to an already, very unfortunate person. Some say that he was lost in a pool of memories; he was stuck in his past basically. The only thing that he could remember that had happened in the last five years was the disappearance of his Keeper brother and the death of his blood brother. This man is a blacksmith with long blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sea on a summers day. He may have been built like a blacksmith, but he had a sturdy, slim figure with muscular arms and legs. He was majestic and agile like an elf which he obviously was. He had no recollection of anything that had happened in the last five years because of an accident he had where he hit his head on a rock. But of course, that was a lie told to him by his father. You’ll see what I’m talking about later. To give you a few other clues as to who our hero is, I’ll tell you this; he became a Keeper Scribe five years ago, and then moved up to an Acolyte two years ago. His mother was princess of Pagans but he had never known her very well as she died when Tristan was just a boy. His father never spoke much about his mother, or his brothers, or any other member of his family. It was almost as if he was embarrassed by them, he would always say that he would tell Tristan when the time was right, but when would the time be right? Even though he did not remember much, there were two things that stuck out clearly in his mind, as if they had happened just yesterday. They were prophecies; one had been read by a healer, the second by the previous Interpreter of the Keepers, Caduca. When he, Romeo and Jacques (I think I got you guessing now), had been in Dilú about five years ago when they had first become Keeper Scribes. It went a little something like this, “Three Brothers...Blood Brothers...Forever Parted” and by the looks f it, this had come true where our hero is concerned. The second prophecy had been interpreted from two artefacts, The Builder’s Hammer and The Jackal’s Hand. The prophecy said, “At the death of the Romano brothers will come the end to a great era. The Faders shall return and take with them the most important to their victims until they are lost entirely in their past, not knowing what happened at most points in their life depending on who the Faders had taken. With the death of these two, will come the end to the Way of the Light meaning an end to the Keeper Society. End!” As you’ve probably now guessed, our hero is Tristan Romeo Romano, the cheeky Casanova from Iris’ banquet. Two years ago, his brother Romeo had fallen off of Death’s Toll at Auksendur. Jacques had disappeared the night Iris disappeared, only Romeo and Tristan knew the real reason, whatever it had been, they never told anyone, nor did Tristan remember what the real reason was. **
 * Tristan was walking home from the Smithy one autumn afternoon. Now this is where he starts his adventure, so make sure you pay attention. The street, which was usually packed with people searching the endless stalls of merchants selling their priceless, exotic goods, was still, silent and serial. No-one was anywhere, not even a cat or a rat in the many alleyways that littered the square. He could not understand why the square or the streets were so quiet. Even the alleyways, which were usually filled with hooded figures, orphaned children and even the odd youth pick pocketing the nobles. The fact that he can’t remember why this day was so important shows just how much he has forgotten. You see, on this day four years ago, Iris disappeared and on this day two years ago, Romeo fell off of Death’s Toll. **
 * As Tristan passed the Tailor’s and headed for the southern gate, the trumpets sounded and the soldiers marched towards the square. Tristan turned and watched as they carried a marble coffin in a procession through all the streets of Az Lagni and then out onto the pastures of the eastern gate. People poked their heads out of their windows and watched as the procession passed down their street and on into the next. This could only mean one thing...the king was dead...King Rubuen was dead! Tristan bowed his head and thought of everything the king had stood for, remembering him in all his greatness and paying his last and final respects to his one superior. As he looked up again, three guards were marching towards him. Tristan remained where he stood-if he was younger, he would have been running by now, but he was not as mischievous as he once was-waiting for the guards to reach him. They stopped a little while away and the one at the front of the pack stepped forward and addressed Tristan formally. **
 * “Tristan, I’m so glad I found you!” he started. “I need you to pass a message onto your father for me. Tell him that the council would like to see him right away and hurry! It’s very important!” Tristan nodded and walked speedily out of the southern gate. He headed down the hill and across the vegetable patch, towards his and his father’s cottage. His father was sat on the bench outside the front door. He had long black hair and a bony face with clear blue eyes. He wore his usual red robes and sat in peace, apparently not noticing Tristan as he stood in front of him and sighed as he sat. **
 * “Ah, you’re home! How was work?” his father asked. **
 * “It was alright! No-one was there though, no-one came to shop either. Even the streets were bare when I walked home as the procession of our dead king began...” he was cut off by a sudden interruption from his father. **
 * “Dead! The king is dead?” **
 * “Yes father...the king is dead!” **
 * “He must have given up hope.” **
 * “Hope...hope for what?” **
 * “Hope for the fact that Iris could still be alive...or Jacques.” **
 * “Jacques?” **
 * “Never mind!” **
 * “The council wanted to see you.” **
 * “They can wait! Tristan, do you know what Dagshelgr means?” **
 * “Yes...maybe...no...yes! Day of Sorrow?” **
 * “Well done...you’ve done your homework. Today...four years ago, Iris disappeared without a trace. No-one ever knew what happened to her! This day holds so much sorrow for many people. For us, it marks the death of Romeo, the disappearance of Jacques and it also marks the lives of thousands of Keepers killed at Degtúr.” **
 * “Who by!” **
 * “Livia...Champion of Auksendur.” **
 * “That name sounds familiar too...what is it about Iris that makes me feel as if I knew her so well?” **
 * “Perhaps the fact that you two shared something special?” **
 * “But what about Dagnen?” **
 * “Who’s Dagnen?” **
 * “I don’t know!” he lifted his hand and touched his lips...and then his cheek. **
 * “Now...I don’t know about this Dagnen girl, but what I do know is that you and Iris shared something special; you were very close friends. Hah! You used to bring her flowers, sometimes roses and sometimes irises. You’d tell her that a thousand roses alone would not match her beauty. Or, you’d bring her a single iris from Helga’s garden and tell her that it was just a token of your loyalty for her. She must have thought that you were crazy, but also that your heart lay elsewhere as you always had a cheeky smile upon your face. You were always so sarcastic but most humble. Jacques and Romeo never got tired of picking up on you. Good times!” **
 * “It’s funny...I don’t remember any of that!” **
 * “That’s the greatest burden you hold; the fact that you will never remember any of your previous feelings...no love, no happiness, nothing. I couldn’t manage what it must be like to know that you once felt it but don’t remember it.” **
 * “Is she still alive?” **
 * “No-one knows.” **
 * “Do you think that she is still alive?” **
 * “I have hope...and that is all that matters.” He stood, and readied himself to leave for the council meeting. As he reached the foot of the hill, he turned and called back to Tristan; “A letter came for you today. I left it on the table in the kitchen.” He turned, waved to Tristan and then continued up the hill towards the southern gate with Tristan watching eagerly after him. **
 * When Thorrin reached the fountain in the square, he was met by Henry, the commander of the army. He was a gnome! Together, they made their way up the market and towards the castle. Once they arrived at the foot of the castle steps, Hamish joined them. He was the Keeper mediator between the council and the Keepers. He, compared to the other two, was covered in shadow, cloaked in darkness. Bandages were wrapped all around his body to keep the truth from being known-he was fading. Henry wore the red regimentals of the Az Lagnìan army. Hamish would be the fifth to fade so far, and for the Keepers, this was very bad news. If Tristan didn’t remember everything soon, then all hope for the survival of the Keeper Society would be lost in a flurry of ash and debris. Hamish was known as a Rune Mage, meaning he could command and manipulate the runes to his advantage. The Faders had not been seen in just over two years and now, they were back. No-one, not even the Interpreter of the Keepers knew who had called upon them but they all knew why they were there...Tristan? **
 * Hamish led them up the steps to the castle and through the giant oak doors. Then, down the entrance hall and into the throne where the council gathered once every month. The huge doors swung open to reveal stands of seats filled with mediators and members of the council. Ivan, the head of the council was with Derek, the captain of the royal guard. They stood in front of the three thrones at the head of the room. From left to right went Rubuen’s, Isolde’s and Iris’. A red curtain rested next to Rubuen’s throne, only Thorrin knew what it covered. Ivan stepped forward, ready to address the council. He was from a distant island far in the north so he had a very strong accent. Sometimes it was hard to understand what he said but the council had grown accustomed to it by now. He wore long emerald green robes with gold trimmings. He had shoulder length brown hair with a full beard and moustache. He had blue eyes and pointed ears as he was an elf. Thorrin, Hamish and Henry made their way to their seats and sat, ready for Ivan to address them. Ivan took a deep breath and stood to the left of the curtain he had been standing in front of. Derek stood at the other end of the podium. He had a mass of curly, brown hair on the top of his head and green eyes. He too wore the red regimentals of the army, his iron sword resting on his hip in its sheath. He nodded to Ivan as he pulled on a rope, removing the curtain and revealing another throne. The whole council gasped and broke into conversation filled with arguments of why there was another throne. Were the rumours true, did Rubuen ever have a son? **
 * “SILENCE!!” roared Ivan. The council were quiet once more and no-one in the room stirred. All eyes fell upon Ivan as he stepped into the middle of the podium. “You’ve all heard the rumours that the King had a son so there should be no queries. All rumours have little if not a lot of truth in them. The King is dead and although he lived a good life he held one great regret.” Thorrin noticed a sudden movement in the opposite corner. A hooded figure stood there with a long sword across his back. //Kaylith?// He wondered. “The King...had a son!” continued Ivan. “I was by his bed when he told me this. He said,” Ivan raised his voice slightly so as to add a chill to the already cold room, “that his deepest, darkest regret was that he never made up for the wrongs he committed against his only son...Jacques Rubuen Farica!” the council up roared and protested against the truth. Men began to shove each other as one disagreed with another. The woman sat and waited patiently for the conclusion of the council meeting. Ivan stood and watched the catastrophe that was taking place before him. Thorrin remained seated but eventually, Hamish lost his patience and stood shouting as loud as he could. **
 * “Look at you,” he protested as the council’s eyes fell upon him. “You’re all behaving like animals...in fact worse. An animal wouldn’t attack someone that disagreed with them...would they? This is a disgrace! If the members of the King’s council cannot come to a decision on what to do next, then maybe this kingdom truly is doomed.” **
 * “Shut up outsider!” roared Phillip, who was a member of the royal guard. **
 * “That’s enough!” shouted Thorrin rising from his seat. “Who do you think you are? Who gave you the right to call a man noted down in history an outsider? He is a Keeper Mage, and may you all be warned if provoked, he will smite you down. You all know of my supposed third son but not all of you know the truth. Jacques is not my son...he is the King’s son. It was on his wishes that I never raised this issue before you.” **
 * “Oh yeah! Prove it!” **
 * “See for yourself...Phillip!” Thorrin reached deep within his robes and pulled out a single medallion throwing it to the floor. Derek stepped forward and picked it up, studying it carefully. **
 * “Thorrin is telling the truth! This is the royal seal of the son of the crown. Explain yourself Thorrin.” He commanded. **
 * “When I took Jacques in I found that in my forge ready to be burnt and made into a sword. He hated his father for what he did and he never gave him the chance to apologize for throwing him out.” Thorrin explained. **
 * “How do we know that you are telling the truth?” asked Thomas, the mediator between the council and the Hammerites. **
 * “Perhaps I can shed some light on the situation!” the hooded figure stepped out of the corner and stood opposite Derek in the centre of the room. The room grew silent and many members of the council stood, trying to get a better look at the hooded figure. The man pushed down his royal blue hood to reveal a tanned face with blue eyes and brown hair that draped to the start of his neck. A short beard covered his chin and had no length to it. It dropped from the centre of his lips and slowly expanded as it reached the underneath of his face. He had a muscular build and the hands of a blacksmith. His clothes consisted of an indigo tunic with puffy sleeves. Brown bracers with studs covered forearms and a brown scabbard rested along his back underneath his cloak. His trousers, smeared dirt painted across the white puffy expanse tucked into his brown leather boots. Thorrin’s mouth lay ajar as it suddenly became clear that the Sultan of Perdia was amongst them. This man was the son of Jason Orion and King to a nation. An eagle flew down from the window ledge and perched upon his shoulder. **
 * “Welcome...Kaylith Libra!” stated Ivan extending his hands out to address him. It was clear that the council was utterly shocked by his presence. “It is a great honour to have you with us today.” Now, all members of the council were on their feet, calling up to the Lord and asking him why...how. The noise echoed and argument sounded filling the throne room with an unfriendly uproar that deafened its occupants. **
 * “YOU WILL HOLD YOUR TONGUES!” roared Kaylith as the eagle screeched in approval of his master's statement. “As you can see I am not dead. After the Vizier rose, Kalina, empress of light, was killed with the dagger that is the key to Gallow’s power. As you all know, she was my wife and is rumoured that if the empress should perish so would the whole of Salysmá. Kalina passed on her title to another and so the empress lives on in the light’s new servant. Now, addressing the issue that this council is here for today, I have all the information you need. Do I have the permission of the council to say what I have to say...Ivan?” all eyes were now upon Ivan as he nodded in approval. The council members took their seats and remained quiet so that Kaylith could speak. **
 * “Thank you! I may have been asked to keep quiet about what I saw twenty years ago, but I feel that now, the information I hold is of great importance to the issue raised by the council earlier this morning; what was the King’s deepest regret?” again the throne room was filled with conversation. Queries and questions as to what the answer to the question was. By this time, Kaylith had clearly lost his temper. “SHUT UP!!” **
 * Silence! Stillness! Serenity! **
 * “Now I don’t know how this country will survive unless its council will let people speak. You will let me speak or you will forever regret the fact that you never heard what I have to say.” There was a long pause and then Kaylith spoke again. “Twenty years ago was Iris’ third birthday. Only the King’s closest friends were invited. It was at this banquet where everything began. Jacques was nowhere to be found, so on request of my sister, I went looking for him. I found him in the entrance hall as he was coming up from the kitchens. He had been given a glass of grape wine to take up to his mother by Claire, the cook. Once in the ballroom, he gave the drink to his mother. Iris was with Rubuen and a few friends from Az Landen forest. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, then...Isolde began to choke and then she passed out. A doctor was called for and within an hour the ballroom had been cleared, the doctor had given his diagnoses; Isolde had been poisoned with Hemlock. The king asked me who had served the drink but before I could say anything, Jacques stepped forward had said that it was him who had served it...he served the wine...” **
 * “Then it’s true...the boy is to blame!” interrupted Daniel, the royal advisor. **
 * “Yes...the boy is to blame!” agreed Thomas, the mediator between Hammerites and the council. **
 * “Why would a six year old boy poison his own mother? Even still...how would a six year old boy know anything about poisons? Jacques only served the drink...” **
 * “But that still doesn’t answer the question...who poisoned Isolde?” asked Daniel. **
 * “THAT...is not the question rose this morning Daniel!” stated Ivan. “The question is; what was the king’s deepest regret? Please, Kaylith, continue with your tale.” **
 * “Thank you Ivan! As I said, Jacques only served the drink...he did not make it.” **
 * “But why was Jacques never seen again?” asked Thomas. **
 * “I was just getting to that. After Jacques confessed, the king was outraged. He would not listen to reason and threw Jacques into the streets. I could not believe that my own brother-in-law could be so heartless. I would have taken Jacques with me to Perdia but that would have been foolish. I would have put him in danger if I had done that, after all, we were at war with the outraged civilians of Alahna, Island of Light. So I left him with Thorrin where he grew up with Tristan and Romeo. He was never seen in this castle again, his room was bordered up and as far as anybody knew; the king had no son.” There was a pause and then Kaylith stepped up to the podium and addressed the council as he stood next to Ivan. “Now to answer your question; what was the king’s deepest regret? The answer was within my tale; his regret was that he never made it up to Jacques!” **
 * “How do we know if you story is true?” said Daniel, stepping down from the stalls and standing in front of Kaylith. Kaylith swiped his sword from out of the sheath on his back as the eagle took off and circled the room. Kaylith pointed the sword at Daniel’s pulsing neck; he was not afraid. Kaylith’s opal bladed sword shined in the sunlight showing a red glint within Daniel’s piercing green eyes. **
 * “You’d be foolish not to...traitor!” Kaylith said, sneering at Daniel who did not seem surprised at the accusation. Derek, who was now standing beside Daniel, looked towards Kaylith. **
 * “That’s a very serious accusation,” he said. **
 * “We are all Keepers here aren’t we...the truth should show through on its own.” **
 * “What about for those of us who aren’t Keepers?” asked Thomas who was now on his feet. **
 * “You’ll still see the truth!” **
 * Derek looked towards Daniel who stood tall and brave. He grabbed his right hand, pulled off his fingerless gloves and held his palm out to the sunlight. Shining, with his own blood, was the sign of betrayal. **
 * Keepers all round the room rose and began to chant ‘Brethren Betrayer’. The royal guard stepped forward and bared their swords, two of them seizing him by the arms. The council shouted accusations at him and chanted along with the Keepers even though they were not Keepers themselves. Kaylith loosened the grip on his sword and returned it to his scabbard on his back. Ivan stepped forward and put a hand on Kaylith’s shoulder as the guards shackled Daniel’s hands behind his back. **
 * “SILENCE!” called Ivan. “If you want your proof Daniel...then here it is; the king’s dying words to me were his only son, Jacques Rubuen Farica, be found and bought home safely, that Jacques was to know how sorry his father was that he did not listen to Kaylith let alone...his own son.” The council now returned to their seats but the Keepers remained standing-their own brother betrayed them! **
 * “Do you have anything to say in your defence Daniel?” asked Hamish as he stepped down from the stalls. **
 * “Of course I don’t! You’ll all be dead soon anyway...after all we’re all brothers here aren’t we? Trust me Hamish...more will fade, of course they will it was me who called upon them and I’m glad I did!” **
 * “How dare you!” **
 * “How dare you...Hamish!” he sniggered evilly as the red glint in his eyes shined even brighter. **
 * “What are you laughing about?” demanded Thorrin who had followed Hamish out of the stalls along with Henry. **
 * “Your naivety! Blood will have blood! These are the words of justice. In life...there is only one chance; Hamish. That chance is to do justice, one chance to claim your vengeance...your revenge on those who have wronged you. Although we follow his message, The Lord looks down on us as if we be mere ants cowering for cover. Fear is the element of our sin! Justice over fear is truly...worthless for your Lord has betrayed us!” **
 * “Take it back!” **
 * “Never!” he spat on the floor and sneered at Thorrin and the others. “The Shì shall rise and smite down all those who dare oppose him. The Faders are back and here’s the answer to all of your questions; ‘twas me who called upon the Faders and sent them after your son...Tristan. ‘Twas me who ordered for your son Romeo to be sentenced to death against king Oruc’s wishes. All of you have been searching for all these years for the key to your own corruption and you never realised that he was under your own noses, betraying you to the Devil himself.” **
 * “You...” **
 * “What? Pig...bastard...traitor! The war has begun my brothers and there’s nothing you can do about it. Time will repeat itself and the essence of time itself will cease to exist. The war has indeed begun!” **
 * Back at the house, Tristan was sat at the kitchen table, pondering his thoughts, wondering what was taking his father so long to come back. He had now been gone for one and a half hours. What was taking him so long? A scroll rested on the edge of the table. He was staring at one thing in particular; the blue crest which sealed it shut. He grabbed at it and stared at the symbol, trying to look past, trying to look for what was beyond the crest. As he squinted, it began to shine as if it was sacred. The symbol reminded him of something...but what was it? Everything was just a blur, where had he seen this symbol? **
 * Suddenly, he dropped the letter onto the floor. He felt something trickle down the back of his hands. It felt cold but at the same time warm. He turned them to face him and saw that it was blood as symbols of old reappeared burnt upon his skin; the key of the Keepers and the Port Key. **
 * His back began to burn and he felt something like water trickle down his back. He ran into the next room and pulled off his tunic, facing his back to the mirror above the mantle shelf. He turned and looked only to see a painted tatoo in the shape of the Keeper crest. Although the paint no longer ran, it still felt like it. His back burnt more than ever and his hands began to sear with pain. A loud screeching noise pierced his ears, as if a long nail was being run across a blackboard. He clasped his hands over his ears and clamped his eyes shut as a bright light shone throughout the whole room. He slumped to the floor and slamed his head against the floor without really meaning to. The pain was just too great! Images flashed across his closed eyelids, mostly faces, but of who he knew not. As the images appeared faster, he yelled out in pain as they struck him further to the cold, wooden floor. As he tried to push himself back up, the weight of his fear, his guilt, his love pushed him back down. With all his might, he rolled up onto his knees and yelled, reaching up and facing the cieling. **
 * He brethed deeply, slowly, fearfully. Slowly, he opened his eyes as the screeching scilenced and the bright light faded. As he stared at the ceiling, something caught his eye. It shone brightly an expanded with increasing speed. The light formed the shape of a person with a cloak and long flowing hair. Tristan could not tell whether it be male or female, all he knew is that it was someone he knew. As it stopped growing, brilliance and perfection radiated from it. It held out a delicate hand towards him and eminated the words “take it”. Tristan reached up towards it, but as he was about to grab it, the light ceased to exist. The screeching pierced his ears and pain struck his back and hands. Again, he fell to the floor, sprawled in a tangled mess of darkness. As the screeching and pain faded, Tristan lay motionless, neither dead, or alive. Just lying in peace, serenity and tranquility. As the room billowed in darkness, Tristan remained lit, bightening up the whole room but not strong enough to trully eliminate the darkness. All these years he had lived in darkness, the light had finally accepted him, welcoming him with open arms. All he had to do now was find the power and the courage to take the hand. But there’s only one way he could do that and that was by remembering his past. **
 * We now leave our hero to see a very different side of the story. Far to the east, in the land of Hasaghar, a King was living a lie. Trying his best to follow in his father’s footsteps is a King who has lost all hope. Having been accused of the most horrible atrocities, he has lost all faith that somehow; he will live up to his title as King of Hasaghar and the surrounding provinces. **
 * Oruc, the King of Auksendur, was sat at his desk in his quarters, staring dreamily out of the window. His door lay open and a guard stood outside. His room was fairly plain and had a bed up against the far wall in the centre. His fingers tapped on the table as his blue eyes rested on the practising soldiers and busy villagers in the kingdom below him. He wore black vambraces with silver studs and a thick, black over-shirt in exactly the same style and with no sleeves. He wore black, leather trousers and big black boots. His belt was also black and studded with a silver buckle and engraved patterns with a ruby in the middle. Slightly below that was another belt. This one was plain and slanted as it wrapped around the top of his leg. Clipped onto it was his embroidered scabbard which held his father’s sword. His short black hair and moustache was considerably scruffy. He was very muscular and in very good shape with the hands of a blacksmith. **
 * Githnar, one of the imperial guards, walked into the room. He had wavy, light brown hair with bright, blue eyes. He wore short vambraces and a purple jacket with black stitching to make patters over a bare chest. He wore red, leather breaches with brown boots and he too was very broadly built. **
 * “My Lord!” he addressed and Oruc stood to face him. Githnar bowed and handed him a piece of parchment. “A letter my Lord. I am unable to tell who it is from as the writing is very scruffy and quite unreadable.” **
 * “I’m guessing Dangur!” Oruc took the letter and unfolded it. “Your Royal Majesty,” he read aloud. “I hope all is well. I have been unable to find the dragon egg and the citizens have not been that helpful either. I await your orders. Private Dangur!’” He put the letter on the desk and scribbled something down onto a piece of parchment and then stamped it with a red seal in the shape of a crown. “It seems he has finally learnt the importance of his new title.” **
 * “It would appear so sir!” replied Githnar with a smirk on his face. **
 * “Send this back to him!” Githnar nodded as Oruc stood and strode over to him. “Any news on the princess?” **
 * “She remains asleep. Anise is doing all she can.” **
 * “I’m sure she is. Let me know if there are any improvements!” **
 * “Indeed I shall, my lord!” Githnar bowed low and left the room. Oruc placed his hands on his chin. How had it all come to this? Why had his own tutor betrayed him in this way? **
 * Down in the servants’ quarters, a very different story was taking place, for the princess lived. A dwarf stood outside a thick wooden door. He appeared to be guarding it, but in truth, he was watching. The door lay ajar and a sleeping princess lay on the bed. Despite the truth of her condition, she seemed peaceful. The Dwarf coughed loudly and itched his chin through his long, bushy, brown beard. His green eyes sparkled with splendour and his knobbly nose twitched as he sniffed. He wore a green and brown tunic which seemed tight around his plump middle, a buckled belt holding it steady. He wore brown, leather breaches and big black boots. He held a rifle in his hands as most Dwarves did. It showed his importance within the kingdom and stood as a weapon of defence, not attack. A Gnome paced the hallway. He was a head shorter than the Dwarf, but in far better shape. He had a big, pointy nose with even bigger ears. His green eyes showed importance and his bony cheeks stood out from the rest of his face. He was broadly built but unlike most of the Lord’s creatures, he only had three fingers on each hand. He had brown curly hair and wore a white tunic. His black, leather trousers were tucked neatly into his brown boots. A brown jacket hung loosely on his shoulder and a sword was strapped to his belted scabbard. **
 * “Mornin’ Malcolm!” he exclaimed as he passed the Dwarf. His voice was quite high pitched and he had a slight accent which indicated that he was from the high lands of up northerly. **
 * “Mornin’ Harry!” the Dwarf replied. His voice was considerable deep and there was a slight croak to it, indicating that he had just got over the mid-spring coughs and sneezes that went around this time of year. “’ows your day bin then?” **
 * “Borin’ as usual! Yours?” **
 * “Same old same old! She still ant woken up yet! It bin four years and she ant once stirred, not at all.” **
 * “I’m tellin’ you now; that li’le lassie ain’t gonna wake up!” **
 * “But surely if Lord Oruc thought for one minute that there were no ‘ope for her, he will of done away with her by now?” **
 * “True! But just think, this won’t never have happened if that bloody bastard Dangur hadn’t disobeyed orders in the first place. However, I still say that she won’t wake up.” He began to stroll away but Malcolm called after him. **
 * “I bet one ‘undred gold pieces she will!” Harry stopped in his tracks and a smile appeared on Malcolm’s face. “That’s one crown in case you didn’t know!” he said slightly quieter as Harry turned and strode back over to him. **
 * “Malcolm ma friend...you ‘ave yourself a deal!” They shock hands and then returned to their posts. **
 * Down in the dome, Oruc was sparring with Livia. Livia’s long, brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail and her crystal blue eyes shone in the in the sunlight. Her face was bony and thin. Her slim figure span quickly around the dome as she sparred with Oruc. She wore an armour plated bra top and short striped skirt of red and white. Red leggings reached just below her knees and armour plated boots clung to her legs. She wore matching vambraces with entwining patterns, seeming to form vines, stopping the circulation in her wrists. Her sword swung effortlessly through the air as she tripped Oruc over with it. He landed on his back with a thud as Livia pointed her sword at his neck. Livia smiled and threw the sword aside and held out her hand for him. Oruc took it and got to his feet. He was at least a head taller than her at full height. **
 * “You’re getting better...but is that the sort of treatment that I...your king deserves?” he asked. **
 * “Oh I’ll show you the treatment you deserve!” she placed a delicate hand on the back of his hand and kissed him passionately upon the lips. Oruc placed his hands on her hips, but their passion was short lived. Denizen, a Dwarf Messiah coughed loudly as the two broke away. **
 * “Denizen!” Oruc said, slowly licking his lips. Denizen had black skin, much like that of the Foresaken, but his king were none like those of the Shìan worshippers. His eyes were so black, it was hard to tell whether or not he actually had pupils. He had black hair with a long beard that reached his middle. The top of his head was bald and a red ruby rested on his forehead, acting as the wise eye of the Lord. He wore a black and white robe with a red and gold jacket. He held a hammer in his hand and his feet thudded on the floor as he walked over to them. He unlike Malcolm and other Dwarves was quite tall, almost the same height as Livia. **
 * “Don’t worry, your secrets safe with me!” his voice was gruff and deep. “Iris is awakening!” Oruc’s face hardened in disbelief and Livia looked up at him. Was he back for more? **
 * “Your serious!” Oruc exclaimed. **
 * “No, I’m Denizen...of course I’m serious! Now come on!” Oruc followed after Denizen, as did Livia a little further behind, a look of worry smeared across her face, would he make him betray her again? **
 * Once they reached the servants’ quarters, Malcolm pushed the door open and all of them barged though to see Iris sitting on the bed, a hand resting on her forehead. **
 * “My lady, are you alright?” asked Oruc, still in disbelief. **
 * “I’m fine! Where am I?” asked Iris, appearing breathless. **
 * “I’ll explain everything later. At least now, I can make preparations.” **
 * “Preparations for what?” a worried look appeared on Livia’s face as her eyes widened and her skin went pale. She knew the extent of her King’s unpredictable nature. **
 * “For you to return home!” Iris looked over at Livia who shook her head, mouthing the word ‘no’ almost frantically. Iris could see the worry and torment in her eyes as she knew what might happen if Iris were to leave now. **
 * “If you don’t mind, I think I would prefer to stay here for a while...until I get myself sorted that is!” Livia breathed a sigh of relief and lent back against the wall behind her. **
 * “Of course!” Oruc stammered, seeming confused. **
 * Behind them, Malcolm held out a hand as Harry dug deeply into his pocket. He pulled out a single bronze coin and handed it to Malcolm scowling under his breath. A cheeky smile appeared on Malcolm’s face as he pocketed the coin, leaving the sudden happenings to take place within the quarters of the servants. **

**__ Chapter 5 – The Keeper’s Plight  __**
 * Tristan awoke with a start. He was breathing deeply as moonlight shone through the open window. He could feel his body dripping with sweat and fresh blood upon the palms on his hands. As his breathing slowed, he swung his legs round and leant his bandaged hands upon his knees. The bandages were covered in blood on both sides. He looked around his bedroom and saw a bowl of water on the dresser. Slowly, he stood, and cautiously walked over to it. As he removed the bandages, he felt something harden on his back and a face flash through his blurred vision. **
 * “Iris!” he mouthed. She was alive, despite the doubts of the people. He lay his hands in the water for a while seemingly thinking of the non-existent dried blood. He stared aimlessly at the burnt on glyphs on the tops of his hands. They no longer shone, and they no longer bled. But why did they choose to show now and not earlier. He turned his hands over and looked in amazement at the new glyphs upon his palms. **
 * He knew the glyphs, but from where. He shook his head, trying to clear his head, stepping back and falling onto the bed behind him. As his head hit the mattress, a bright light flashed past, blurring his vision and blocking out the darkness of the night. He yelled in pain and sudden fear as he knew she was back. The Light was showing him the way. **
 * Four people stood side by side. One was him. One was Romeo. One was Jacques. But who was the forth. “Zhaine” came the voice once more and again he the light shone on. Four glyphs appeared in front of them, each symbolising something different. Loyalty, Nobility, Truth and Freedom, the glyphs of Union. The Scribe Passages had been unveiled, the work of the Ancients passed on. **
 * Tristan swung up onto his knees. A fresh breeze blew through the window and the moonlight shone through the window. Again, the Light was gone, no sooner had it appeared. Again, he stared at his palms. He was one of the brothers. One of the four, one of union. Vaguely, he saw a shadow standing in the middle of the room. He glanced upwards to see a woman with long flowing blonde hair. He knew her, but from where and how did he know her. She wore a long blue dress and a single silver entwining tiara roped around her forehead. She was a prodigal, the highest standing within the Keeper faction. A name came to mind and before he knew it, he was on his feet and staring the woman right in the eyes. A face flashed through his vision, one which had haunted his dreams for as long as he could remember. The face of a woman and it was not of the woman who stood before him. As he blinked, the face became more focused and upon it he saw the details which bought about her beauty. But there was something imperfect about her, for her beauty and her soul were masked in a single bloody scar which ran down the length of his face and striking the solace out of her eyes. Her long brown hair was matted with yet more blood and he felt tears in his eyes. She spoke, but he did not hear and then she faded into oblivion. He looked up at the woman who stood before him. **
 * “Who is she?” he asked hastily, tears in his eyes. **
 * “I cannot answer that question, only you can,” replied the woman. **
 * “But how?” **
 * “By remembering! Tristan, do you know who I am?” **
 * “Isolde! Keeper Prodical!” **
 * “Good! The Keepers need your help, the Faders are back.” The word struck him like an arrow through the chest. The Faders were hooded creatures, shrouded entirely in shadow and darkness. Anyone they touched faded and never returned, until now. “Two years ago, the Faders were unleashed and sent after you and Romeo on order of Charles. They were destroyed but they took many Keepers with them. Now they’re back, but this time, they’re within the compounds. It seems that we have a traitor, but whom?” **
 * “Why does this concern me?” **
 * “Perhaps because it is you they are after. They are back because of the fragile condition of your memory. But there’s something different this time. People are returning! I was one of the faded, and now, I’m back. You see, the more you remember, the more will return to the land of Light. This is the Keeper’s plight, they need your help!” she held out her hand. “I can help you!” Tristan reached towards it, but stepped in mid stretch. **
 * “You can’t help me, this is my journey.” **
 * “You’ve taken the first step...I hope we will meet again.” And with that, she faded into the moonlight and the room returned to its original emptiness, haunted by the scarred face of Tristan’s dreams. **
 * Tristan strolled over to the chair and began to dress himself. It may have still been dark outside, but there was no way he could sleep now. As he buckled his belt, something began to bang. He looked over at the desk to see the bottom drawer shaking violently as if something was trying to get out. He stood completely still as the drawer began to increase its shaking. Faster and faster! Louder and louder! And then, it stopped. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief and then was alert once more, jumping at a sudden soft voice. **
 * “Open it!” said the voice. Tristan looked behind him, expecting to see his father as the voice was that of a man. “You can look, but you shall not find!” **
 * With that in mind, Tristan cautiously opened the drawer, bracing himself for an attack as soon as it was open. Inside was a single box with a golden key embroidered onto it. The box was of mahogany, an opaque beauty that concealed the contents of the box. The golden key seemed to symbolise something, something from his past, something he had long forgotten...or had he. He ran his hand along the key as the burns on the tops of his hands flared with a strange brilliance. The markings on his palms tingled and he felt the paint on his back harden. He licked his lips and lifted the box, closing the drawer and placing the box on the desk. He sat down on the chair and breathed deeply, wondering whether or not he should open it. Finally, he overcame the doubts and placed his hands either side of the box and lifted up the lid. **
 * It was hinged so the lid of the box rested at a right angle to the base. On the lid was a painting. It depicted a prophecy. As he starred into the picture, it changed, as if it would now depict his prophecy. The picture now resembled a woman...a fairy crouched on a narrow rock face. Her face bore a look of fear, a look of dread. She held her legs against her chest and her flawless face looked towards the side as if trying to avert her eyes from Tristan’s gaze. Her hair was silver, not the old kind of silver, but a sparkling silver, a beautiful silver. Her dress was a lacy white and her feet were bare and she held within her hand a key. Two glyphs were at the bottom of the painting. They resembled the Keepers and secrecy. **
 * The glyphs read Keeper of Secrets. That fairy in the painting was the Keeper of secrets, or was there an even bigger twist to the plot? Was there a traitor in their mist or were the Keepers more corrupt then Xavier thought? Tristan shook his head trying to discard the thoughts that obscured his mind from thinking clearly. He ignored the painting and looked to the contents of the box. A book with the same key upon it rested within the box, a book which seemed to trigger certain thoughts within Tristan’s mind. Tristan picked up the book and turned to the front page. This book was no ordinary book and this was revealed by the glyphs on the inside cover. This book was the prophecy book of the Keepers. Every time a prophecy was read by the interpreter, it would appear within the book. But the book would never change its thickness, that way, if the book were to fall into the wrong hands, it would be disguised as a normal book for mere reading. He put the book aside and looked to the rest of the content of the box. A medallion rested on one side and photos stood in a small pile. As he reached for the necklace, a piece of paper flew into his hands from the window. He unfolded the paper and read it in his head. **
 * // Tristan //****, //I know it’s been a while since we talked, two years to be precise. I hope your memory is good enough so you can at least remember me brother. As you’ve probably heard, the Faders are back but this time, there’s a twist. You see, people are returning from the land of the Faded, even those of the Greater Faded. These are indeed troubled times and corruption is eminent in most parts of Halsgar. I must speak with you immediately, as for the box, please, do not go through it alone. There’s no telling what might happen to one as lost as you. The Light shines on Tristan, for all those who choose to accept it. Do not shun the Light. Meet me in The Sleepy Warden Inn as soon as you get this message. I am and will forever will be your Keeper brother, wielder of Freedom; Zhaine.// **
 * Tristan breathed deeply and pondered what Zhaine had said. He could remember Zhaine, but what did he mean be ‘wielder of freedom’? He was sure he would find out soon. He placed the book back in the box and closed the lid. He picked up the box and left the room, heading towards the city and towards what would be the break he needed, for this woman who haunted his dreams was soon to be revealed, he knew it. **

**__ Chapter 6 – That’s the Way it Goes  __**
 * As Tristan arrived at the inn there was a sudden outburst on the inside. He walked through the door to see a man standing on a table delivering some sort of speech. He strolled over to the innkeeper who was shaking his head at the sight, a cheeky grin on his face. He was quite grubby, but that was just him, although, he had put on a considerable amount of weight since the last time he saw him. **
 * “What’ll it be Tristan?” he asked. **
 * “Give me two ales please Bernie!” replied Tristan. **
 * “Meetin’ a friend are ya? Don’t wanna be here though, their goin’ on about some Prince named Jacques. Bring him back they say. If you ask me the King never had a son!” **
 * “That’s what you think!” **
 * “Not you too Tristan!” Tristan grinned slyly and strolled over to the far corner of inn where a man in a cloak sat, seeming to be doing absolutely nothing. Tristan placed the ales on the table and sat opposite the man. He lifted the box onto the table placing it in the middle and sat back in his seat, waiting for the man to acknowledge that he was there. The man looked up and pushed down the hood of his cloak and smiled at Tristan. He had long light brown hair and a slight moustache and beard resting upon his chin. His eyes were blue and he had a strong build. His face was calm but fearful. Zhaine had seen a lot in his lifetime and was only a year younger than Tristan. **
 * “Tristan, my friend, how’ve you been?” he asked. **
 * “Not bad! You?” replied Tristan. **
 * “Faded!” Zhaine’s eyes twinkled as he said it. “I was one of the Greater Faded. Have you opened the box?” **
 * “Yep, but I’ve only looked at the book. I heed warnings when they are spoken to me.” **
 * “Good, good! Same old Tristan! How’s the old memory?” **
 * “I remember you if that’s what you mean!” **
 * “What about //her//, you remember //her//?” the vision of the scarred woman flashed through his mind once more. ‘TRAITOR!’ shouted a voice in his head and suddenly, he hated her and was glad she was dead. **
 * “She was a bloodthirsty traitor!” **
 * “Shame on you...if only you knew the truth!” **
 * “Truth about what?” **
 * “Never mind! So, why don’t you tell me what you know?” **
 * “They haunt my dreams. It’s funny, every time my father mentions how I used to be with the Princess Iris, I always say what about Dagnen. Then, I wonder why I say that, she’s a traitor after all.” **
 * “That woman loved you Tristan!” **
 * “Then why did she betray us?” **
 * “Perhaps she had a good reason! What else do you see?” **
 * “My dreams are haunted by a strange woman, the death of Romeo and countless other pains and sufferings of my past.” **
 * “Why don’t you let me take a look?” Tristan nodded and Zhaine leaned forward, placing his hands on Tristan’s temples. He closed eyes, and saw as Tristan did; a life with no meaning. A past forgotten! They say that the past is only the future with the lights on, but for Tristan, this was not so. By saying this, people meant that the light was on in the past as people knew what happened within their past. As for the future, no-one knows. Even if their future is told to them, the lights are still off as it s just a guide, it can be changed. For Tristan, it is very different; the lights are off in both his past and his future. As Zhaine closed his eyes, he saw only pain, a past with no certainty. **
 * // A kiss! “You’re late!” The Eye of the Storm! 25 dead, 3 priests, 2 blacksmiths, 1 unidentified personnel, 19 Hammerites...all my fault. Charles...traitor to the Keepers! Boris...traitor to the Keepers! Hagen...traitor to the Keepers! Sabina, Deval unleashed within her – all Charles’ fault. Arthur...dead! Dithnar...dead! Sithnar...dead! Jacques...dead! My angel! My Dags! A scarred face; long curly light brown hair, green eyes. A fresh bloody scar obscuring the beauty within her nymphan eyes. Tears dripping onto her face. She says something, but what, I cannot hear. Fade...anger...death. Pick up hammer and smash Eye of the Storm – trouble ends here! Deaths Toll! Sunrise! Hagen! Lightning strike, memory lost, Romeo fall, promise broken. Romeo dead – body never found – faded before my very eyes, rainbow shining! // **
 * Zhaine sat back and sipped his ale slowly. After a time, Tristan too opened his eyes and sipped his ale. **
 * “How does it feel to be you Tristan?” **
 * “It’s hard to explain. Put this was, some days I don’t know how I got here, it’s like a journey through the dark. I live the life that had no answers; the truth was always in my heart. I span a coin to make decisions and still I always got it wrong. I tried to avoid head on collisions, the chance was there and now it’s gone. I guess that’s just the way it goes, I live to find another day and life. Life is a game we have to play and I must play on. It’s like a book that has no ending, it’s like a story never told. It’s like a night when you’re on fire, why does the morning feel so cold. Feels like I’m trapped inside a circle, and though I plan my great escape. It’s like I’m back right where I started, the only thing I have is faith.” Tears fell from Tristan eyes and he stammered as he began to lose his temper. “It feels like I’m trapped inside a circle although I plan my great escape. Looks like I’m back right where I started and the only thing I have is faith! I live to find another day,” he shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “That’s the way it goes! Life is a game we have to play and no matter how hard it gets, we must all play on! It’s always been this way, it’s just the way it goes.” **
 * Zhaine gulped down the last of his ale and placed the glass down on the table. “Let’s do a test now shall we!” he pulled the box towards him and opened the lid, nodding his head at the painting as it changed to suit him. He took out the book and placed it on the table. He picked up one of the two medallions within the box and showed it to Tristan, inclining his head as he did so. This was not a medallion though, instead, it was a single key strung on to a piece of thread. It was his, Tristan’s own. He took it from Zhaine and smiled putting it over his head and letting it hang round his neck. “What about this one!” he held up the other and swung it intently. An image flashed through Tristan’s mind as he stared at the mysterious glare the black crystal gave off. If was framed in fine gold and hung from a delicate gold chain. He let it rest in his hand as Zhaine held it steady. The image flashed again, this time, slower. He saw the same medallion on a wooden floor as a woman screamed and a man roared with laughter. **
 * “This was hers wasn’t it? I didn’t mean it Zhaine! I never really did hate her; I forgave her in the end. I was just angry!” **
 * “She loved you Tristan...” **
 * “And I loved her...I always will do. But who’s Dagnen? Why does she seem to play such a big part in my life? Who was she? Was it her I loved, or the woman with the scarred face?” **
 * “You’ll see!” he placed the medallion on top of the book and slipped his hands underneath the small pile of photographs. Each was a thin piece of parchment, the back embroidered with runes and glyphs, the front showing a photo. He placed one in front of Tristan. “Why don’t you tell me who you remember?” **
 * Tristan stared blankly at the photo. Four people stood with their arms around each other. Two of them seemed pretty old and he was sure he knew none of them, except one...or two...or maybe all of them. “Basso...Draco...” he said, pointing to the oldest one on the left and the one next to him. **
 * “Avus and Felix!” Tristan remained silent. “Avus is Basso’s father and Felix is our first Keeper.” **
 * “I thought that was Avus!” **
 * “Avus died shortly after our Scribe training. He was old...very old!” He took another photo from the pile and placed it in front of Tristan. “What about this one?” There were loads on this photo. A whole group of them. He didn’t know all of them, but he knew they were all Scribes. The older ones on the top of the photo were their teachers. He smiled, this one, he knew. **
 * “Those were our teachers. I used to love winding him up!” he pointed to a man that looked ancient. He was right in the middle with a bald head and a long thin beard. “ I swear he must have been about a hundred years old. What was his name? Linford! That’s Draco next to him, I remember the first time we met him...The Book of Names! Big deal!” **
 * “You never did take things seriously did you?” **
 * “I still don’t! There’s Basso! I’m not sure who that is next to him, but that scar on his face seems familiar.” **
 * “You gave it to him. That’s Ramien and that’s Rafe behind him, his brother. They’re like me, raised by the Keepers, orphans with a gift. Anyone else you remember?” **
 * “There’s me, Romeo, Jacques and you right in the middle there. Xavier...Dagnen!” Zhaine nodded as he said those names. “She was the same woman, they’re both the same woman. Why didn’t I know that?” **
 * “How about this one?” He placed one of the two remaining photos in front of Tristan. This was of his brother and a woman. Romeo was two years older than Tristan and had a more bony face. Standing next to him was a woman with long blonde hair and the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen. Romeo’s arms were wrapped round her middle, her hands resting on top of them. She was smiling sweetly and there was a certain aura about her. **
 * “That’s Romeo and Lana! Boy, he did love her dearly! He promised her he wouldn’t die atop Death’s Toll! Why did he have to propose to her one day and die the next?” **
 * “Good, good! Your memory has served you well. What about this last one?” he placed it in front of Tristan as he pushed the box aside. He sat back and clasped his hands. Tristan stared at the photo and remembered the face that had so long haunted his dreams. Her face was replaced with the gorgeous smiling beauty who leant close to him in the photo before him. He smiled as he remembered her kiss...and then her death. Again, his eyes filled with tears. Truly he did still love her, and what’s more he had never stopped. He looked up at Basso and sipped the last of his ale. The sunlight shone through the window as the sun rose from above the horizon. “She must have had a good reason, she wouldn’t have done it otherwise. She loved me too much to betray me, didn’t she?” **
 * “Why don’t you tell me what you remember about her?” **
 * “Just her touch, her smile, her kiss, her death! I know nothing about what we may have shared. All I know is that I loved that woman, more than anyone in the world...and now she’s gone. Tell me, did you see her in the Land of the Faded?” **
 * “You believe she Faded?” **
 * “She Faded right before my very eyes. What other explanation is there?” **
 * “If what you say is true, I never saw her. But don’t give up hope mate, she may have been one of the Greater Faded.” He picked up the photos, but Tristan stopped him. **
 * “I want to keep this one close to my heart.” Tristan took the photo from the top of the pile and placed it in his chest pocket. Zhaine nodded his head with approval and placed the photos along with Dagnen’s medallion in the box, placing the box on top and closing the lid.  **
 * “That concludes our reunion!” said Zhaine as he pushed the box towards Tristan. “Any questions?” **
 * “Just one! Does the Light stay true?” **
 * “Aye it does! The Keys never lie Tristan...never! If they say he’s, he’s alive.” **
 * “And what do they say?” **
 * “He’s alive Tristan! Your faith has not let you down this time!” **
 * “Thank you!” **
 * “I’ll see thee at the final battle brother, until then, good bye!” and with, Zhaine left the inn, his hood once more concealing the mere tragedy that was the Keeper’s Plight. He could not bring himself to do it, but he knew he would have too eventually. After all, the fate of the Keepers once again lay in the hands of Tristan Romeo Romano!  **

**__ Chapter 7 – Future Becomes Destiny  __**
 * Tristan returned home not long after leaving the inn. He returned to find his father sat in the lounge on a comfy chair. As Tristan came into the room, he put the box on the kitchen table and sat in the chair next to his father. As he sat, his father sighed deeply, almost as if he was angry at Tristan for leaving so early without leaving word with his father. **
 * “You’re quite the early bird!” sighed his father after a while. **
 * “I went to meet a friend,” Tristan replied. **
 * “Bit early for a drink as well don’t you think? Tell me, who was this friend of yours?” **
 * “An old friend from my Keepering days, brother if you like.” **
 * “And what did you and this friend discuss?” **
 * “We were just catching up. He was in town and well, we Keepers prefer the nightlife.” It was clear that Tristan was trying to keep a low profile and wasn’t planning on letting on anything him and Zhaine had discussed. “What time did you get home last night?” **
 * “Well, you were sleeping when I came in. It must have been about midnight when I arrived home.” **
 * “I was sleeping?” Tristan remarked curiously in a slight undertone. “How come you took so long? And what this about the people wanting the council to bring back Prince Jacques?” **
 * “Well, I had a few matters to attend to with the army and mediators with all three factions after the meeting. As for this Jacques fellow, someone must have let lose what we discussed.” **
 * “Either that or people are finally listening to the rumours?” his father gave him a funny look and yet again, Tristan changed the subject. “I’m going to go see Helga soon. Is there anything you want?” **
 * “Some mint would do nicely. And I quite fancy some lemon tea. When will you be going?” **
 * “Now!” **
 * “I’ll see you soon then!” **
 * When Tristan arrived back in the city, it was bursting with energy. The stall owners were busier the ever so he picked up a loaf of bread from one of them. Then he made his way towards the city square, only to find a huge group of activists in front of the castle. One of the guards, Balderick was sat at the fountain watching the proceedings. Tristan sat down next to him. **
 * “Alright Balderick?” he asked. **
 * “Yeah I’m fine. Bloody activists! They want us to bring Prince Jacques back although I’m not too sure what they’re talking about. There have been rumours going around that the king had a son who he chucked out of the family. No-one knows why though.” **
 * “Well, I’ve heard the rumours, but my memory isn’t the best when it comes to clarifying whether or not that did happen.” **
 * “Ah well! We’ll find out the truth eventually.” **
 * “I guess so! Helga in?” **
 * “Helga’s in everyday!” **
 * “Thanks!” Tristan got up and strolled to the west side road which led to the meadows and courtyard of the castle. This is where Helga lived, just on the edge of the meadows with a beautiful view of the mountains. He didn’t have far to g now that was for sure. **
 * The bell rang as Tristan opened the door of the herbalist’s house. A smell of tea leaves and parsley filled his lungs as he breathed in. **
 * “Welcome young Keeper!” a small black cat jumped onto the counter and started pawing the wood. “It seems you are our first customer today...young keeper.” **
 * “A talking cat?” Tristan exclaimed in disbelief. **
 * “A werecat to be precise. All healers have one!” **
 * “The one in Hasaghar didn’t!” **
 * “Are you sure?” the cat stretched as a woman walked through the door behind the counter. The room behind her was huge and circular, filled with a nice sized short table with a map of the whole of Igstan painted onto it. The woman was different all together. She was very strangely dressed, but she also looked quite elegant and classy in her revealing clothing. A headdress sat on her forehead with dangling decorations which framed her face. They were decorated in a sparkly scaly sort of design which kept her long blonde hair out of her face. Her brilliant green eyes showed radiance and beauty, but at the same time, there was a mysterious aura about her, one which Tristan had not noticed before. Her clothing was no different in design. It framed her shoulders leaving her arms completely bare. The piece was slit at the cleavage and a single strap held it in place across her bosom. Another strap held it just below and her belly button was pierced with softer, silkier look and feel to it. A slit went from about the centre all the way down. Her sandals, which were of the same design, clicked on the floor as she strode over to face Tristan. Her nails were painted red and her skin was as flawless as ever, masking her age brilliantly. **
 * “Welcome Tristan!” she said. Her voice was soft and delicate but was also slightly accented as she was from far northerly of Igstan. Maybe even further than Asan, the Shadow Province as it is now known. “It is nice t see you again so soon in the week. Tell me, what is it I can do for you?” **
 * “Well, before forget, my father would like some mint and lemon tea!” replied Tristan. **
 * “The usual then!” she stepped into an open door on the far side of the room and picked out two bags. She handed them to Tristan, but picked up no cash, as her price was for free as most healers were. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” **
 * “Just one regarding my memory!” he exclaimed as placed the two bags into his pack. **
 * “Ah, right this way!” Tristan left his pack on the counter as Helga led them into the circular room with the table in the middle. Either side of the table were cushions to sit on as the table was quite low. As they sat down, Helga poured him a cup of tea and handed it to him, the smell of papaya and citrus filling the air. “Tell me Tristan, have you remembered anything more?” **
 * “Not much! Things have just been shown to me in more detail. I have made certain links and I met with a friend of mine this morning.” **
 * “Did he help with anything?” **
 * “He helped me with going through my box of memories. I was surprised at how much I do remember, let alone surprised at my own feelings.” **
 * “Let’s take a look shall we?” she placed her cup on the table as did Tristan. He leaned forward so that she could reach his head. “I want you to completely relax okay!” she closed her eyes and placed her long thin hands on his temples. After a while, Tristan too closed his eyes and let Helga see into the mind that was his past. As for Helga, she saw exactly as Zhaine did, a past of pain and suffering. She saw a woman, but in more beauty then last time. This was probably because he had discovered her name, revealing that the two he had thought were different were actually the same. Above all, Helga was most impressed with how much more clearer the vision was compared to how it usually was; cloudy and concealed with unknown anomalies. After a while, she removed her hands from his temples and began to sip her tea once more whilst she waited for Tristan to open his eyes. **
 * When Tristan opened his eyes, she smiled sweetly at him and inclined her head as he lifted his tea to take a sip. **
 * “That was impressive. Clearly your memory is returning with haste. Compared to the last time, it was clearer. I could see what was happening with a lot more clarity. Do you have any questions?” **
 * “Just one! Isolde, the Keeper Prodical, said I’d have to make a choice. I could go with the love of my country, or the love of my life. Simply speaking, I can either choose Iris or Dagnen. The only problem is, I can only ever remember being in love with Dagnen. Can you shed some light on this for me?” **
 * “All I saw was Dagnen. What I can say however, from own knowledge that is, that after your Scribe training, you seemed different. You were no longer picking up girls from the pubs and having them dance naked and entertain you in the evenings. You certainly weren’t flirting with Iris as much as you used to, but what I can tell you is that although you still flirted with her, it was in a much more unnoticeable way and that disappointed her.” **
 * “I know what she wants and she liked me when I was buying her expensive gifts rather that handing her beautiful iris’ as beautiful as herself. I can still remember the happiness on her face as she danced with Prince Oruc, let alone the disappointment on her face when all it was was an iris. That iris was only picked up by the cleaners that night. She wants some prince or hero to sweep her off her feet and ride her off into the sunset. I can’t be that man and that’s when I suddenly realised that I was still in love with her.” **
 * “Who?” **
 * “Dagnen! Despite the betrayal she’s the piece in my soul that’s been missing all these years. She makes me feel complete!” **
 * “How else does she make you feel? Then, I’ll tell you whether or not you still love her or not. How you fell right now, not how you felt then?” **
 * “Well, I know that when I first met her, I was kind of tired of all the women trying to flirt with me Hasaghar, mainly because most of them were pretty ugly. I guess we hadn’t been in contact for a while and had no intention of starting up a romance with her again. It wasn’t until I was reaching out and looking for somewhere to escape the crowds that I bumped into her and it all started all over again. Now, she’s dead and everything’s different. I hear her whisper words that I’ve been searching for and somehow, I’m still in love with her suddenly. And as I reach out towards the shinning figure that could be her, I feel myself rising up and she gives me grace. As I touch the shinning figure, I’m suddenly up on the surface and only I can see and picture the person who I need to be and I know what people think about me. Tristan the player they say! But I know I’ve changed. They see me differently now and it’s all because of her. These are difficult times and days for me and yes I know what you’re thinking; it’s the same for everyone at the moment. I live a difficult life in a difficult place she gives me grace to say when I get it wrong, the grace that wills me to carry on and as I reach towards her, always I feel like I’m rising up.” **
 * “And was is Dagnen to you? What does she mean to you?” **
 * “She makes me feel like I’m in a world that doesn’t sleep at all. In a place I’ve never been before she gives me grace. And in all of the confusion she’s the peace in my soul and that’s why, even though she’s dead, I know I’ll never really be alone. Because of her, there’s nothing I don’t fear at all when I’m on the edge of long before she gives me grace. And no matter what you say, in all of the confusion in this world, she’s the peace in my soul and that’s why I will never really be alone.” **
 * “I’m shocked. No description of love has ever seemed so beautiful. You definitely still love her and it’s clear she means a lot to you.” **
 * “I so much want to tell my father about her and know what we shared. But I can’t remember. All I can see is her smile and her death. All I can feel is her kiss and her sadness as she knew she must leave me and head for Death.” **
 * “In time, you will remember her, I promise you! Is there anything else I can do for you Tristan?” she asked intently as she gathered up the empty saucers and cups into a neat pile. **
 * “Yes...um...I don’t know how to ask you this but...could you tell me my future?” Helga pursed her lips at the question, ruining the softness and striking them with lines and filling her face with fear. **
 * “No!” she snapped as she gathered up the pile of dishes and began to leave the room. **
 * “Wait!” Tristan said as he grabbed her arm and stopped her from leaving the room. Once again, the cat was at her heels ready to defend his mistress if need be. “That answer was way too quick. The least you can tell me is why.” She shrugged him off her arm and placed the cups on the counter. **
 * “The last future I told led to the prophecies being disturbed and led to the death of an innocent man. I am a powerful woman Tristan and if it happens again, there’s no telling what might happen to me.” She turned away into the herb room as Tristan called to her once more. **
 * “Helga please!” she stopped in the doorway and listened to what he had to say, her back facing towards him. “I need this, I need a break. The lights are off in both my future and my past. I need something solid, something I know for certain, something I can call my own. I need some sort of guide to tell me what I’m doing wrong or right even. Helga please, my lifetime is filled with the unknown, even you know that!” She looked back at him and saw the pleading in his eyes. Clearly, he was desperate. She sighed and shook her head. **
 * “Alright, I’ll do it!” she slid past Tristan and proceeded into the circular room once more where she sat at one of the cushions and motioned for Tristan to sit opposite her. As Tristan sat, she pulled a destiny ball out from under the table and placed in the centre of Halsgar. “Make sure you keep your eyes on the destiny ball for images shall appear. They will give you more information than I can. As for listening, listen carefully as I shall not repeat what I have said. I cannot!” she closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly. She placed a hand above the destiny ball and the other just touched the symbol that was Az Lagnì palace. As she tilted her head back a little further and a glyph shined brightly on her forehead although Tristan was not skilled enough to tell what it symbolised. She began to chant in a strange language which was unfamiliar to him as the destiny ball filled with smoke. Tristan concentrated hard, focusing completely on the destiny ball and the words now emanating from her mouth and rebounding off the walls of the circular room. The words echoed with valour and radiated beauty as they hit Tristan’s ears. **
 * “In your hometown, I see a journey just beginning and a quest to see the past,” a map appeared within the destiny bell with a red trail beginning and slowly spreading across to form a path of which he would take. After every image, this appeared behind it and filled her gaps, stretching further across into different places of Halsgar. “An object of great power shall become yours and once again, following in your brothers footsteps will not be a problem,” Romeo’s face appeared within the destiny ball followed by a huge, beautiful rainbow dragon drinking from a stream with an elegant waterfall. “To the edge of the mountains,” her finger now hovered above Shaznul, “I see a reunion with an old friend and brother, but he brings grave news,” the face of a man with short black hair and a moustache appeared within the destiny ball. “To the river,” she hovered above Den Vengis now as the red line continued across the mountains, through Mountainousì and extended towards Den Vengis, “I see a woman; a lost love and an old foe,” a woman with long blonde hair appeared in the destiny ball, followed by a man with greasy black hair and grey eyes. His skin was pale and he had a cut on his bottom lip. “To the forest,” now she hovered over the forest of Az Landen as the red trail extended towards it, “I see shadows of darkness and a truth revealed for lovers reconciled is stronger than lovers first for a choice must be made and balance must be restored,” hooded creatures haunted the destiny ball and then the image was made brighter by the radiant smile that was Dagnen. As the image faded, a fire appeared with the symbols for the Hammerites, Pagans and Keepers burning within it. “In metal I see your fate and in hell,” her hand hovered above the palace at Hasaghar, now known as Auksendur, “I see the truth and yet another reunion,” the face of Livia and two other lookalikes filled the destiny ball as the image quickly changed to the face of Oruc and...Eve within that of his mother’s. Tristan appeared, then Romeo, then the face of a child and a reformed warrior. The Lights of Orion shone brightly and the dark palace of Auksendur turned into a beautiful castle, restored as it once was; Hasaghar. A kiss and King Jacques, the people were right, there was a prince named Jacques. “Once again, the fate of the Keepers rests in your hands. Who will you chose, but more importantly, will what you find be what you seek. The key to your past lies within your future!” Helga opened her eyes and placed her hands in her lap. Tristan however continued to stare at the destiny ball, lost in a world of his own, a world of his own memory. “Tristan?” she asked, uncertain of what was going on with him. He was staring into space, falling into a world full of the unknown. A woman whispering his fate, a crystal smashing...Romeo! Then, he fell to the floor, once again, lost in his own thoughts. What a big burden he now held? Once again, the fate of the Keepers would depend on him and it was up to him to restore balance to whole of Igstan. The Faders were back and they were back with a vengeance, but was there still hope for those of not just the land of Light but also, the land of Shadow? **

**__ Chapter 8 – Spinning Blades __**
 * The circular room filled with light as sunset began. Tristan eyes flickered as the light cast long shadows along the room. He placed a hand on his forehead as once again, his hands began to bleed once more and he could feel the paint on his back begin to run once more. He eased himself up until he was standing up at walked, dazed, out of the room. He took his pack off the counter and swung it over his shoulders, smearing blood along the straps. As he left the hut, he saw Helga sat in the meadow with her legs crossed. As he strolled over to her, he realised that her eyes were closed and her hands lay peacefully upon her knees. He waited for a while, still, appearing dazed, zonked as if he was in a different world. What he had seen must have affected him more than normal. After a while, she opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. **
 * “Beautiful evening isn’t it!” as she stood, she seemed almost surprised to see that it was Tristan. She took both his hands within hers and closed her eyes, once again, the glyph appearing on her forehead. Tristan felt the paint on his back harden and the fresh blood seeped back into the burns as the dried blood was no more. She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled, kissing him upon the forehead. All life seemed to come back to him now. He no longer seemed dazed, but at peace. “You poor boy! You must not falter Tristan, you carry a huge burden and I cannot possibly think what that must feel like. Once again, the fate of the Keepers rests in your hands. But at least you are not alone. The journey you will take is a long one, but you will not take it alone. Along your quest, help will come from different people and certain objects, maybe even places or certain scenes will remind you of your past. Advice can go a long way, as can making history, but foolishness and stubbornness lead to recklessness. Responsibility will come to you Tristan, and when it does, you must expect the unexpected. Travel safely Tristan, be safe! Your future has become your destiny, but you must follow your heart. You may follow the path I have revealed to you, but you must make your own way. If a man truly believes he can change his stars, then indeed...he can. Go it safe Tristan, but do not go it alone!” again, she kissed him on the forehead and inclined her head towards the gates of the meadows which led back to the square. He began down the hill, but then stopped and turned. **
 * “Helga?” he called as she turned back towards him. “Just out of curiosity, what was the last prophecy you told?” she seemed blank and did not answer. Suddenly her eyes turned misty and wide, eroding away the colour and leaving just white. Her eyes slanted up leaving her head looking down, striking Tristan with a sudden sense of fear. Her mouth moved in mystical way, unnatural almost. She began to chant, but so quietly, that Tristan could barely hear her. As she chanted it over and over again, she got louder and until her voice too seemed unnatural, monstrous even. It echoed, rebounding off the green grass and hitting Tristan like a blockade of arrows. One! Two! Three! Four! **
 * “Three Brothers...Blood Brothers...Forever Parted...” she chanted over and over again. Four times in total, but Tristan did not stick around for the fourth time. He looked at her in disbelief, shaking his head and steeping back until he broke into a run and headed for the trees. Helga remained chanting, but this time, she chanted something different. “To once again become Blood Brother Three Brothers, Forever More...” and then she faded into the brilliance of the sun’s rays shinning over horizon. **
 * As he neared the waterfall within the forest, he stopped and laid his pack on the forest floor. He dipped his hands into the river and bought up a pool of water, using it to wash his face and his hands. Afterwards, he lay back and rested his head on his pack. He closed his ways for a while and began to think. All his life, he had live in the unknown, never knowing what would come next or whose heart he would break now. Now he had something to follow, something to offer him support, something that would help find a way, his way, the way of the warrior. **
 * Something nuzzled at his face and he waved his and trying to shoo it. He opened his eyes to look straight into the green eyes of baby dragon. It might have reached his knee, especially with its brilliant white scales. He smiled at the little dragon as he remembered how small Romeo’s had been when they found the egg in Hasaghar. **
 * “What are you doing here?” he asked it, thinking of the tower where the local dragons nested. The dragon cocked his head and spoke without even moving its tiny mouth. **
 * “I hatched for you!” Tristan looked confused. “What was I supposed to do, you were sleeping?” **
 * “I see what Helga meant by following in my brothers’ footsteps. Do you have a name?” **
 * “That’s your job!” **
 * “Okay...how does Shuriken sound?” **
 * “Spinning Blades, I like it!” Tristan laughed to himself as he held open his pack. “Hop in!” the dragon jumped into the pack and began to get comfortable on top of the two bags he had collected from Helga. He swung the bag gently over his shoulders. As he strolled towards the edge of the forest, he looked up at the stars. Where had the day gone? Only a few hours ago, it seemed to be that he had met with Zhaine at the inn. Voices pierced the darkness and suddenly, Tristan was alone. Whatever was coming his way could not have been good. He looked around, there was no time to run. He spotted the old oak and stepped cautiously over to it, being careful not to alert the intruders of his presence. He lent up against it and hid behind it as he watched a Foresaken and a Mutant step into the clearing. The Foresaken he recognised as Lord Oruc’s general Dangur, but what was he doing here, especially with a Mutant? **
 * “Where is it?” Dangur grunted through gritted teeth. Clearly, he was angry. **
 * “What exactly are we looking for shir?” asked the Mutant. Its voice was high and squeaky, slurred and powerful. It made Tristan feel breathless and uneasy. He wanted to run, but he knew he couldn’t not now. **
 * “A whit dragon egg! Our master must be bought back!” **
 * “Why doesh mashter want it?” **
 * “Why do you think you incompetent fool?” **
 * “Shorry mashter!” Dangur shook his head and sighed to himself. **
 * “Come on, let’s get out of here!” The two faded into the night leaving Tristan once again alone in the silent forest. **
 * Tristan arrived home to find his father sat at the table waiting for him. A hand rested on his chin and his face seemed stern. He had clearly been waiting a long time for Tristan to return home. **
 * “I’ve been waiting all day for you,” he exclaimed as Tristan shut the door behind him. “What took you so long? I’ve hardly seen you! Do you have...” **
 * “Dad...I can explain!” Shuriken popped his head out of Tristan’s pack and jumped onto the table. He stretched and then began to clean his scales. “Meet Shuriken!” His father stared in awe at the little white dragon. He almost couldn’t believe his own eyes. “He’s a baby white dragon...one of the rarest.” **
 * “I don’t believe it...” **
 * “Dad, why don’t you let me explain?” there was a pause. “I think it’s about time I went on a little adventure.” Tristan pulled up a chair opposite his father, but his father remained silent, still unable to come to terms with what had just happened. “I need to rediscover my past.” **
 * “What do you mean rediscover your past?” **
 * “You know I haven’t been myself. The fate of the Keeper’s is in my hands. If I don’t start remembering stuff soon, there’s no telling what might happen.” Still, his father said nothing. It seemed like he did not understand the full extent of the situation. “The Faders are back as I’m sure you’ll know. But there’s a twist this time...people are returning from the land of the Faded.” **
 * “What?” **
 * “My friend Zhaine who I met this morning, he was one of the Greater Faded, he came back. Hamish faded this morning, he’ll be back within a week or so. Dad, do you know what this means? It means that times have changed, no more will we live in fear of never returning from the Land of the Faded.” **
 * “Why are they returning from Faded Lands all of the sudden?” **
 * “Because I’m remembering more! Look, when Romeo fell from Deaths Toll, I lost my memory due to a spell. As Romeo fell, the doors burst open, the books became unwritten and within five minutes, almost every Keeper had Faded. Within half an hour, they were all back,” his father stared at Tristan in awe. “The books were rewritten and the doors were once again intact. Now, it’s happening again. Hasaghar is a death zone at the moment. I blacked out in Helga’s hut and saw it all. The doors were down, rubble everywhere, especially in the compound. The glyphs were smeared with blood and restless spirits swamped the courtyard. It was almost like a ghost town. Guards were posted outside where the doors would have been...things are starting to get out of hand and it’s about time I did something about it!” there was a pause. “But I can’t go it alone!” His father stared only this time, he seemed more compassionate, more understanding. “I need to do this. The more I see on this journey, the more I’ll remember. The more people I meet, the more people I’ll remember. The fate of the Keepers depends on me remembering everything, but I can’t do it on my own!” Tristan went over to the unit and took the box. He sat back down and opened it, intending to show his father its contents. He reached into the box and pulled out the items individually. “This is a Keeper Prophecy book. I can remember receiving this at the initiation ceremony when we became Acolytes. That right there,” he pointed to the glyph on the front of the book. “That’s my name in ancient Keeper. It means love struck!” his father smiled. “This is my Keeper medallion and as for this,” he pulled out Dagnen’s medallion and lifted it up above the box, holding it still so his father could see its beauty. “It was Dagnen’s! It was used to call about the Faders and unleash them onto an unsuspecting victim. Two years ago, Charles used it to unleash the Faders on me and Romeo for a crime we did not commit.” He pulled out the photographs and showed them individually to his father. “This photograph shows our teachers not only form where we were training to become Scribes but also Acolytes. We had a different teacher every hour for most of the day. This one is of me, Romeo, Zhaine and Jacques just after we united as blood brothers. This one is of Felix, Xavier, Avus, Draco and Basso. And this one’s of Romeo and Lana!” his father looked at the photographs intently, seemingly bemused by what he was hearing. “And this one is Dagnen!” he paused and then handed it to his father. His father stared at the photo and looked up at Tristan. **
 * “She’s a beautiful woman, you must have found something special in her.” **
 * “I know she betrayed us and I know it sounds stupid when I say that I love her even though I cannot remember what we shared. But I did love her, I just didn’t realise that I still did until recently.” **
 * “She must make you feel at peace if every time I say her name a smile appears on your face.” Tristan smiled as his father handed him back the photo. “When do you plan on leaving?” **
 * “Tomorrow, maybe? I was thinking maybe you could come with me.” **
 * “I have had enough adventures to last me a lifetime. Why don’t you take that Zhaine fellow?” **
 * “He’s busy...and besides, I have nothing to prove to him!” his father gave him a quizzical look. Tristan leaned forward on the table, pushing the box aside and waking Shuriken as it scraped across the wooden table. “Romeo’s alive father!” his father leaned back in his chair, seemingly stunned at his son’s outspokenness. **
 * “You’re brother is dead!” **
 * “I’ve seen him!” **
 * “What...in your silly dreams!” his father rose and stormed into the lounge. Tristan followed after him, grabbing him by the shoulder to stop him from ignoring him. **
 * “Romeo is alive! A long time ago, a prophecy was written saying that if the Romano brothers were to die, so would the entire Keeper race. That nearly happened two years ago. I don’t care what you say father, Romeo is alive and I’m not the only one who believes that.” His father looked at him in utter disgust as if he was disappointed in Tristan for believing such a thing. “Come with me and I will prove to you that he is alive!” **
 * “I can’t do it...” **
 * “You have no faith in me father and yet faith is all I have.” His father turned away and Tristan continued to explain. “I have no past and I have no future. I have nothing but faith. But is I go on this journey, I will not only have a future, but I will rediscover my past in due time. Romeo lies in my past and in my future. Someone once told me that if you believe in something strongly enough, it will come true or at least in some way. Like Dagnen, Romeo faded before he hit the bottom of Deaths Toll...” Thorrin began to walk away again, but that did not stop Tristan. “Meaning he never hit the bottom. His body was never found. It all adds up...” **
 * “To what Tristan...what?” **
 * “Romeo faded! There is no other explanation! Father please? I promise to prove to you that Romeo is alive!” **
 * “Don’t make promises you can’t keep...” **
 * “But I can keep this one! A Keeper...nor a Pagan breaks their promises!” Thorrin turned and stared at his son, staring into his cloudy blue eyes, staring into the cloud that was his uncertainty. But behind that, he saw a Light, a spark, a spark of hope. He saw belief, but most of all, faith. His son could keep this promise and possibly fulfil many others. He was his father’s son after all. **
 * “You really are remembering your past! I don’t believe it! Does Dagnen lie in your future?” **
 * “I hope so! Father, I can show you so much, tell you so much. I can do this, but I can’t do it alone. I need you for support!” **
 * “Then you better bring Merlin along for wisdom as that is something I do not have a lot of.” Tristan laughed and his father gave a sigh. “Let me see that photo again!” Tristan handed him the photo of him and Dagnen. “That woman must have loved you. You can see it in her eyes. She thought the world of you. She must have had a good reason to betray you. I hope you find her Tristan. Love should never be denied.” He handed the photo back to Tristan and strolled upstairs, shutting his bedroom door behind him. Tristan turned back and placed the contents back into the box. Then, he too strolled up the stairs and placed the box on the desk in his room. Shuriken flew into the room and perched upon the bedpost. Tristan sighed and blew out the candle, hoping sleep peacefully tonight, finally knowing the extent of his feelings, for tomorrow was another day, another day for the soul to heal. For the soul takes longer to heal than the body, even for the Gods. But it does heal...not always and not completely. But sometimes, a few scars only make a soul more beautiful. **