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[Deacon Drake]

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It was several hours after midnight when Steel Skye woke up, already feeling the throbbing pains of a hangover. As his vision cleared, he could see the empty bottle in front of him - White Thunder. He almost laughed to himself at the thought that his first liquor in years put him out.

He stood up, trying to gather his bearings. He had fallen asleep atop the Poet's Garden Freehold. He checked his belongings, aware of the night thieves who frequent public bars. All was well. He walked over to the goza mats in the corner of the roof, gritting his teeth as his body teleported to the ground floor. I hate teleporters.

He walked outside, letting his horse rest at the pub overnight, as the tavern owner had permitted him. He looked left then right, then began to walk into the small grove across from the Garden. He never summoned his holy powers in public if he could help it... it was just an old habit. He began to picture his destination, his home, in an attempt to span a Sacred Journey spell.

Suddenly, a flash of light broke his concentration. He fell to the ground with less than a second to spare as a bright orange ball of fire flared past his head. He didn't have the time to think about it, nor did he need the time. He knew who sent it, as only two men wanted him dead, and one was not a mage.

He scrambled to his feet and turned the corner as a bolt of lightning seared into the side of the Garden. He had one thing on his mind, and he prayed that Arlin's military training would work.

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The mage began to sprint toward the general, determined not to let his prey escape again. It seemed like all attempts at his murder seemed to fail before his very eyes... but not this time.

Upon reaching the corner, he had a final spell ready to come out, a flame strike. But it wasn't until he rounded the corner when he realized his mistake; by then it was too late. As the general's blade pierced his left breast, the spell left his mind, as did everything else. He fell to the ground, bleeding his life away.

He opened his eyes and looked to the sky. All he saw was a dark vortex of black, before this black consumed all. He let out his last breath, and the archmage known as the Dreamer was no more.

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Steel looked down at his long-time enemy in shock as the stream of black began to rise from the mage's abdomen. Steel didn't have time to recognize the shape it was taking, for as soon as it was freed, it vanished. Steel looked back down at the archmage, noting that he was once again breathing. Steel didn't quite know what to think, but he had the fearful feeling that the man he had pursued for years was not the culprit behind the murders of his friends and family.

Steel did the only logical thing he could think of. He picked up the comatose mage and, with a couple of words and a deep concentrated thought, disappeared into the night.

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In the monk's chambers in the Empath Abbey, the Dreamer awoke to the sound of cheering and laughter. He could vaguely make out the words "liberation of Cove" in the loud throng. The healer beside his bed turned to him and began his inquiry.

"What's your name, mage?" the monk asked.
"Lucius... Lucius Dar'Talon."
"Is it so? The man who brought you in called you the Dreamer. I'd say you live up to your nickname."
"Where am I? Who brought me in?" The mage was more confused now than he had ever been.
"You're in the Empath Abbey. You were brought here by the General."
"The General? Who..."
"Steel Skye, of course... the General of Wilmeth. Well, you must've been hit hard."
"Steel? A general? What are you talking about? And what the hell is Wilmeth?" Lucius thought he was about to pass out with confusion.
"Oh, boy. I think you should sleep now. You act like you've been out since the Age of Shadows came."
"Age of... what..." Lucius decided not to ask. Then he had a better idea. "What year is it?"
"Pardon?" the monk asked.
"The year... what is today's year?"
"Why, it is the year of our savior, 350."
The mage fell back on the bed, one last thought roaming his mind, plaguing, wondering how it could've happened.

I've been asleep for thirteen years...
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