She was happy living in a remote village; nothing around for miles except the overgrown vegetation. Kyria had been living there joyfully for as long as she could remember, a few decades at least; which is no special feat for an elf. The ancient mythal which guarded the village had been weakened, but nonetheless it was still in reasonable condition to be useful. Kyria had felt the presence of unwelcome visitors for months now, but nothing had happened. She felt uneasy, but safe. For now the mythal would hold, but she had no idea how long that would last. After letting that thought reverberate through her mind awhile she strolled off looking for Shrae Silverhand, the captain of the cities militia. "Shrae, where have you gone off to now?" Kyria called into the darkness.

"Over here. In the tree, are your eyes so bad at such a young age, milady?" a voice from the treetops rang.
"Which tree exactly, after all we are in a forest you know," She questioned. "And for another thing, why ask formally? Are you looking to acquire something through me?"
Shrae jumped down, "Well I was I that tree," he said, pointing to a tall redwood. "And I only meant to greet you."
"In such a rude manner?" asked Kyria, obviously perturbed.
"Well, I� I�"
"Enough, I came to discuss the matter of the mythal with you." She interjected.
"So, you have noticed in its weakening also?" questioned Shrae, though he knew her answer already.
She hid what she truly felt about what happened for she knew it sounded farfetched. "I'm sure it is. I only wish I could find the source of its decline," Kyria said. "Then it would be possible to stop the problem in no time."
"Shall I send a small unit to investigate the cause Lady Stormherald?" inquired Shrae.
"Yes, that would be fine, Shrae. Now, please leave me to myself." Kyria said, making a gesture of dismissal with a hand.

Soon after, Shrae was out of sight and of hearing range. Kyria was pondering the possibilities long after she was left alone, even into the dark of night she thought about it. What could have done this, a monster? But, what type of monster could have done something enough to do this to the mythal? No magic known to the elves has such a destructive power nor does any beast. Or was the mythal dying on its own? Kyria dismissed the thoughts that were coming to her for fear the citizens might she her in such a distraught state and question her as she began her walk back to town. Kyria walked into town and saw nothing special. A few citizens were commuting from shops or relatives homes. She was surprised when no one came up to greet her or talk to her about his or her problems. Finally, just before she reached the royal house, a child walked up to her and asked her who she was. Kyria felt uneasy because of this, everyone knew her here; something wasn't normal.

* * * * *

It was a normal day for Galaeron. Being a tomb guard was a rather lowly job, but it had to be done and he always did it with a smile on his face and a cheerful tone in his voice. On occasion a raider was sighted and eliminated quickly and efficiently. Though there was little to work for, Galaeron always tried his hardest with a diminutive hope for any kind of promotion.

He was leading a small unit through the caverns when he spied a group of husky raiders. The leader was a woman and her followers were men. Galaeron and his unit were quick to take cover and began to discuss matters by signing. Apparently the group had been melting through a lock on an ancient chest. Galaeron's party started the ambush while the raider's backs were turned.

Galaeron uttered a mystical incantation, which shot a dozen lightning bolts from his fingertips, disabling the nearest foe. The rest of his unit had since been occupied fighting off all of the offenders except their leader, who just watched in amazement. The huskiest of the raiders started at Galaeron and charged with sword drawn. Galaeron pulled out his blade, went into a roll and cleaved his opponent's leg. With the grace of a Bladesinger, Galaeron spun and sent another dozen bolts from his fingers into his opponent. To his surprise this foe didn't go down; Galaeron dashed toward him though he was confused. He took another swing, this one at the sword arm of the man, being chopped in the process. But this wound was strange; it bit like the winter cold. Galaeron couldn't quite understand what did the damage, but he knew he couldn't worry now.

He saw the man he was fighting was limp and pale and decided to pursue the leader in the normal fashion. He hurled a dozen bolts of lightning at her and to his surprise they were flung back at him. A spell shield, what kind of a woman is this? Galaeron asked himself. At any rate she had to be stopped, even if magic wouldn't work Galaeron would fight. With that he went into his roll, sliced her arm, and was surprised to find himself with another cold wound.

As a natural reaction he spun around and canted a syllable that sent a column of fire from his finger and was amazed when it hit. He took the opportunity to dart behind her and in one clean swing, slashed her sword arm and making a gash that traveled the length of the arm. The leader had been defeated and only one man remained, he soon found Galaeron's sword in his back. It was a victory for today, but Galaeron wondered if the leader would live long enough to plea in defense. Though he wanted to ask more about what type of magic was bestowed on the blade that had nearly numbed his arm and left side completely. Everything would have to wait for the councils' decision.

Chapter I:

Nigh a day after the skirmish Galaeron still had little feeling in his side. A faint sound came to his ears, causing his heart to beat franticly. As the sound's volume increased, Galaeron's hand sank closer and closer to the hilt his hand had become so familiar with. Soon, the voices were outside his door. He unsheathed the blade as the door creaked open and sprung on the one holding the handle.

"What are you?" inquired a familiar voice. "Mad?"
"I'm so sorry, lately I've been a little paranoid." The embarrassed elf stuttered as he hopped up.
"Well, Mr. Nhimedu, I suppose you should shape up. After all you're scheduled for an appearance in our court to speak about the criminal today." Said the woman as she stood up.
"You're right, Filornia." noted Galaeron.
"See you around Galaeron, and try to shape up a little." Filornia said as she left.

Those words echoed in Galaeron's mind as he thought about himself. I have always been a little strange, but this is very peculiar. I look like an average elf; I have ruffled hazelnut hair, a head of normal size with the casual accented features. My shoulders are broad and my chest is well shaped, even down to my legs I see nothing more or less than an average elf would be.

Galaeron pondered his predicament a few minutes more before glancing back at the mirror to see his arm turning a gentle shade of blue. Galaeron decided it was time to go see a doctor about the wound.

By the time Galaeron reached the city-worker's hospital the complexion of his arm had turned a solid purple around the deep laceration, and it still ached like he was being stabbed in the arm millions of times. He wobbled toward the reception desk slowly and with each step his arm became more painful. The woman at the desk spotted him and decided he was drunkard that staggered in and paid Galaeron's matter no more mind.

Galaeron reached the desk and kindly said, "Excuse me, I'm in need of immediate assistance. I have a deep laceration."
"Huh?" Questioned the nurse; still set in the notion Galaeron was a drunkard. "What did you say?"
"I need assistance with my wound as soon as possible." Said Galaeron without realizing the tone of his voice rose noticeably.
"By Tyr's power, what happened to your arm?" Exclaimed the nurse as she glanced over Galaeron.
"Never mind what has passed. I just need it treated soon; the pain is throbbing throughout my body." Galaeron said with a cough.
"We have a man in need of urgent help," the nurse shouted down the hall. "Move it!"

Galaeron was carried into a room rather quickly and before he knew what was going on, a nurse cast a minor sleep spell on him and he was entranced by mystical symbols.

* * * * *

Kyria felt the same uneasy she had almost a day ago. How can this be? She thought. For all her servants, except Shrae, and the townsfolk had begun running amok yesterday, they were at it all night and, so far, all of today. What if the kingdom is torn to shreds? Kyria pondered the possibility of it and then dropped the matter completely. But, soon enough the matter rose to her mind. Does the mythal have something to do with this? Of course! It must have some relation. And so Kyria wandered off to find Shrae at the Militia Building.

Kyria, being a just citizen, tried to stay away from gossip. Though one group in the alley was interesting her with their conversation. She slowly crept over to a wall next to the alley to listen.

"� Great plan, boss." One of them said.
"It'll work and no one will suspect you to have done it." Said another, deeper, voice.
"Yeah, Maldred. You'll get Shrae real good." Announced another voice.
"Shut up you fool! Do thee want the world to know of our plan?" Someone, probably Maldred, said.
"Now off with all of you and go about your business until "time" tomorrow."

Kyria was so shocked she could barely move. She managed to get back on the road to the Militia Building, but how she would break the news to Shrae didn't surface. As she walked up to the building she saw what Shrae meant about them renovating. The building itself was decorated with wonderfully fashioned carvings. They ranged from the smallest orc to the great dragons of the world. The windows were barred with iron sword-like bars, a little too sword-like for Kyria's liking. And the doors were depicting the Militias' most epic battle in an ornate way, blood and all. Though Kyria was appalled, she could see the importance of the painting.

Just as Kyria had begun opening the doors, they became nearly weightless. A soldier ran out of the house, knocking Kyria off balance. "Soldier! I demand you return and apologize!" But there was no answer. Someone had directly disobeyed her, now she had a new matter to discuss with Shrae.

Kyria climbed the tower to the Capitan's Office and, after five minutes of walking, reached the door. She knocked. There was no inquiry, not a sound, so she walked in. "Shrae? Are you busy?" Questioned Kyria.
"When am I ever too busy for you?" Shrae reminded her. "Have a seat."

Chapter II:

It had been hours since Galaeron had been rushed into the "Intensive Care" section of the hospital. Galaeron wasn't quite sure how intent the workers were on helping the patients, but he was certain they did a good job. His arm was completely functional again, but he couldn't help feeling like he had forgotten something. And then Galaeron remembered his chat with Filornia.

"Goodness! The hearing! I'm late!" exclaimed Galaeron as he bolted out of the ward, causing the staff to run after him yelling about how he needed rehabilitation.

Galaeron just kept running, for he knew the judge would set the attacker free if he wasn't there to testify. That fact drove his body and mind through the splitting pain in his arm. So that's why I was supposed to receive more treatment. Galaeron realized. As he ran, he too overheard a portion of the killer's chat, but paid it little mind, as he had to make it to the courthouse.

"Finally," panted Galaeron. "It seems like I've been running forever!" He opened the doors of the courtroom and heard the judge announce. "The defendant Ainaday Thurgaurden, shall have her name cleared of this felony." Those words echoed through Galaeron's mind. Now he had no choice but to comply. Or can I work around it? Thought Galaeron�

* * * * *

"How did you obtain this information, Kyria?" Shrae inquired in a raised voice.
"It's just as I told you, Shrae, I overheard it when I was coming to visit you." Said Kyria calmly.
"But you must know something more," exclaimed Shrae. "My life depends on it, Kyria!"
"I'm sorry, Shrae, I know nothing more!" Snapped Kyria.
Shrae stood up. "I always thought, that maybe, just maybe, you thought of me Kyria!" retorted Shrae as he ran out of his office.
"What have I done?" Kyria bawled.

Kyria stood and began towards the only place Shrae could be. The tree house he and she had built when they were but children. Kyria just hoped Shrae hadn't done anything too drastic.

* * * * *

Galaeron started his journey home after drowning his anger in "The Flaming Fist", his local pub, still fearing for what could happen now that his pursuer; Ainaday had been freed. In his pondering Galaeron nicked his boot on a poorly lain brick in the road and bent to fix his boot. Suddenly, a feeling like a flying log had hit him filled his body. "Ouch�" Whimpered the figure that struck Galaeron.

Galaeron rolled to his side to see who or what it was that struck him. He saw an elvish man dressed in rather flashy clothing lying, unconscious on the ground. Galaeron rolled him over and saw he hadn't sustained any sufficient damage, so he carried the man to the inn and instructed the innkeeper to watch the man. Galaeron also wanted the innkeeper to send a message to him when the man awoke. Galaeron then meandered back towards his home with fear for the man whom he encountered and a fear of Ainaday striking again.

* * * * *

Kyria reached the spot where the tree house sat and remembered the time it took Shrae and her to build it. Her eyes flashed over the tree house and she remembered every bit. Making the platform, the walls, the windows and doors. Now she was sure Shrae was sulking here. Kyria began to climb the tree with the intention of telling Shrae how much he meant to her.

When Kyria neared the top she heard the sound of crying from inside the tree house. She climbed as fast as she could, only to find a small child in place of Shrae. The child saw her face and probably would've bulleted out if she hadn't said, "It's okay, I'm not sad to see you here." She and the child talked about what had happened to him; his parents had been becoming harsh and unwelcoming and sent him out of the house to sleep. Kyria remembered her thoughts about the mythal and began to wonder if this had any relation to its fading fortitude.
"It will be fine, little one, no harm will come your way; I can talk some sense into your parents." Said Kyria in a comforting tone.
"Thank you, Lady Stormhearld." Said the boy as he burst into tears.
"It will be okay in the end, don't worry." Noted Kyria with confidence.
"But ma'am, how can you be so sure?" inquired the boy; trying to keep himself from bawling.
"I� just� just have a strange feeling." Stuttered Kyria.

Chapter III:

"My�" Shrae whispered weakly. "What� happened to me?"
He found himself lying on a sofa in a decorated room. Shrae felt the presence of someone else in the room and spun, only to find an empty chair. He had re-injured himself in the process of spinning and began to feel a biting pain. He realized there was nothing that he could do to help himself until the pain subsided.

The door began to slowly creak open and Shrae knew he was unable to conceal himself. His heart began to beat more intensely as the door opened, seemingly slower and slower. Now, with the door almost fully opened, Shrae could make out a faint, blurry outline of a person. Who is it, and what do they want?