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[Darrien Church]

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An odd figure walks almost nostalgically about the streets of Umbra, tight form-fitting leather armor, plates of thin-shadowy chain-mail and a rather ornate cloak cling to his frame. His pale, almost porcelain-like skin accents his artificially perfect face, and his hauntingly bright green-eyes. His neatly cut jet-black hair is hidden, ever so perfectly by a mage hat, resting gently atop his delicate brow.

How fortunate the Lich Lord had always thought, that he goaded that short-sighted Matriarch into destroying every last image of the mortal-veneer he used during his time in the Path of Corruption within the Order…none, not even the Matriarch herself had seen him like this in their time…he would pass tonight as he did on all nights, un-noticed

Approaching the western bridge he came upon a female child, gazing quizzically into the void below, young Braylen didn’t know why, but she had felt weak and confused all day, she also didn’t know why she had this inexplicable pull to this particular spot tonight, it’s as if it called to her.

”It is beautiful is it not child?” whispered the disguised Lich Lord almost mischievously in her ear as she jumped, her concentration broken.

“No worry my dear child, you need not fear me…I am a friend of your father’s Braelyn...I have known Beowulf since long before we even knew Malas existed.” spoke Darrien calmly ”I Wonder…” “I’m told your quite an adept young mage…would you like to see a trick? You see, I’m a mage of no small skill myself!”

The Child nodded…

The Lich Lord smiled and leaned in close, his hand resting slightly on her left temple…

”An Ex Por..”

A flash of green light enveloped the pair briefly as the spell quickly took hold over the girl’s body...and before long the bridge stood empty, and the deafening silence of the void took hold again.

[Braelyn Thormear]

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Things had been different recently. Her mother was much more affectionate and her father more present. She felt a closer tie to her family than she ever had before.

Regardless, she still did not feel happy. Unlike the rest of the family, Braelyn did not feel the sense that she belonged. She did not feel at home in Umbra or in Moonglow.

She did have one thing to take her mind away, magic. She had loved magic since her first memory. It was the one thing that tied her to her father. She would constantly wander the streets of Umbra and Moonglow, practicing any spells that she could.




As she wandered through Umbra she felt tired. She could not perform even the simplest spells, which only made her furious and confused. After hours of pacing and failed attempts she surrendered herself to the bridge. The mysteriousness of the void below took hold of her imagination.

”It is beautiful, is it not child?”

Her heart jumped as she looked back at the man with a dazed expression. She could not bring herself to form the word ”Yes”. Her mouth had a peculiar dryness.

”No worry my dear child, you need not fear me. I am a friend of your father’s Braelyn. I have known Beowulf since long before we even knew Malas existed.” She felt a sense of relief, although she could not seem to produce enough saliva to speak.

”I wonder. I’m told you’re quire an adept young mage, would you like to see a trick? You see, I’m a mage of no small skill myself!”

The strange mans calm demeanor peaked her curiosity. She gave a nod.

An Ex Por

She knew the spell well, but did not have the time or the energy to block it. The young girl’s body fell limply, but her thoughts could not escape her. She tried to speak, but to no avail. As the strange man carried her away she realized all she had to hold onto was hope.

[Talon Skyfire]

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The pink ribbon fluttered like a hummingbird from the hilt of the legendary sword, Ice.

It adorned the blade of the King, as it once decorated the curly dark locks of his late daughter, Princess Deserea. It served as a constant reminder of the emptiness in Talon's life.

The endless war with the followers of Oblivion had came with a heavy toll: his Queen, a son, a daughter, friends, and his youth.

Patiently, he waited.
_________________
~Lord Talon Skyfire
King of Sanctus
Lord Protector of Malas

[Tay Thormear]

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It had been nearly a week, and Braelyn had not returned home. Beowulf had begun to worry a few days ago. His daughter had gone out for a walk and still hadn't returned.

"It wouldn't be an act of rebellion, Brae has been free to roam and has been given extensive curfews. She's not mad at either one of us, so why wouldn't she return? I haven't made any enemie's, nor have you in quite sometime. And the child is friendly and minds her p's and q's unlike Atira." Beowulf tried to speak calmly to Audrina. His words strained.

"I don't know why she hasn't returned! Moonglow has begun to push and pull with the Protectorate! Sanctus hates Umbra as is! Talon once called our children demond spawn!" Audrina began an outburst. She wouldn't shed a tear over a missing child. But she was mighty fearious. "It was probably Talon, kidnapping our child to make sure Moonglow or Umbra didn't strike the Protectorate!"

"I highly doubt the King would stoop to those levels. Although they have kidnapped before, I highly doubt they'd take her. They'd strike against someone else in the Council. It's no secret that I rarely dabble in major decisions, although my word would be highly respected. And you're not a Warlord or a leading military officer in Umbra, so striking agains't you wouldn't prove helpful." Beowulf sighed quietly. "I think it's time to send out a search party. I'm going to grab as many soldiers from Moonglow and ask them to look around, stretch their patrols a bit further. Perhaps I could meet with the Matriarchs."

"I could do that myself!" Audrina exclaimed.

"You could, but I rather do it myself. Braelyn has been my responsibility and the Matriarchs and I seem to have a somewhat decent arrangement."

Beowulf took off from the house shortly after, finding his way to Moonglow. He took in a deep breath. The hardest thing for any man, was having a daughter. The even harder part was worrying. His little girl was somewhere, and he wouldn't sleep easy until he knew where.

A tear found its way from his eye, down his cheek.

[Braelyn Thormear]

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Time passed and the longer he kept her, the worse off she became. The hope she held onto disappeared the day after she was taken. Now all she wished for was death, but even that would not come.

She was unfamiliar with the men doing the torturing. They looked almost as sickly as her. Pale, skinny, hooded figures. She noticed each of them had a skull on their palm, but the "artwork" did not seem to have been done in ink.

It did not take her long to break, which made her ashamed. She was just a little girl after all, but knowing what her parents expected of her she never wanted to give up.

After one of the hooded figures cut off her first finger she let out a cry. Tears streamed down her face. She knew if her mother could see her she would be embaressed to called her a Thormear.

After her tenth finger was cut the thoughts of her mother and father left her. All she could think of was death. "Just kill me, please!" She begged the men, but they silently continued on with their orders.

After a while, time did not exist. The only thing she knew was pain. It never seemed to cease. Constant thrashing. Cutting. Bleeding. Burning. Pain.

Her stomach hadn't seen food or water. She could feel her bones, broken and whole, beginning to poke at her skin. Her consciousness faded in and out. Each time she opened her eyes she was greeted with the sick realization that death had not yet come.

She no longer cried for help. She did not have the energy. All she could do was wait.