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The yellow flames burnt brightly the only source of light in this darkened habit. Shapeless figures gowned in coarse, brown robes huddled near the center of the room, their bodies bowed in genuflection. The low hum of unified voices echoed through the room and the yellows flames rose, burning with intensity. A slight distance away a shadow watched as these people performed ancient rituals. It was a shadow of a man. Impassive. Haughty. A recognizable and familiar face to many. The face of the missing Blue Mage Omyn. Time had not aged him. His immaculate, angelic looks still remained despite the dust of white that had covered his head for many centuries. He was still lean and muscular; the aches and pains of the old unknown to him. There was only one thing that was visibly different about Omyn, a deep, nasty scar starting from his left ear and moving downwards to his cheek; a present from his old friend Gilk. He watched as the various disciples paid their respects then moved forward, indifferent to the sea of brown that parted at his approach, to offer his own respect. The yellow fire seemed to consume him and figures in brown gasped and backed away as the once Blue Mage, Omyn, was overcome by flames. His hands flickered, his body taking the insubstantial form of the yellow fire. All around him disciples watched as Omyn threw his head back and howled. It was an ear shattering, indescribable sound; horrendous in its noise. Many fell to the ground and wept out of fear and agony. Others just curled up on the cold marble in fetal positions rocking themselves back and forth. Then Omyn fell to the floor, writhing, as sparks of yellow flame shot out from his body and people ducked and dodged to avoid the onslaught of incoming fire. Eventually the tremors dissipated and his body stilled. It was an eerie stillness, completely and utterly unnatural. Curious disciples crept forward, some bold and daring enough to poke and nudge the statute-like body of Omyn. There were no reactions to the protruding only utter stillness. Eventually one of the masters took charge and ushered the entire congregation of disciples to depart the room. The master left the room himself but not before shooting a fearful look at Omyn and making the sign of the cross in prayer for protection from a God he had long ago forsaken.
A year had hardened Pacey. A year had transformed a boy into a man. He sat on a log absently tendering the campfire. His eyes were concentrating on the bright flame as it flickered. The golden, the red, the amber of the fire seemed to overwhelm him as the colors danced brightly. Pacey blinked and for one moment he swore he could see Joey in the fire - her hair, her eyes, her lips. Not that such a visual illusion was unusual. Everywhere Pacey looked he saw Joey. Only she was not here with him. She existed in another realm with the Linkens. A realm he had no means of penetrating or entering. Pacey took a worn piece of paper out of his pocket and stared at it. On the tattered, worn paper was the familiar scrawl of Jack�s handwriting. Every now and then Pacey would receive letters from Jack advising him of events that had occurred during his absence. Apparently during their time on the Isle of Guawyn Jen and Jack had improved and expanded their magical abilities. One of Jack�s skills now included the ability to �farsee�. �Farsight� as Jack had called it was the ability to scry out another and determine their location where ever they might be. The process was exhausting and normally was limited to a 5000 mile radius but combined with Jack�s gift of empathy and Jack�s own personal connection to Pacey so far Jack�s ability to �farsee� was limitless. Pacey re-read Jack�s letter once again, perhaps for reconfirmation that he had truly understood the gist of the letter. His eyes scanned the piece of paper absorbing Jack�s words and satisfied of the content Pacey carefully folded the letter and tucked it back into his pouch. Jen was having visions about Joey according to Jack. Visions that were puzzling and vivid. They had started as only one or two but had soon accelerated in number and frequency. Apparently Jen was having around 5 visions each day now. It meant something. Something important. The rest of Jack�s letter also contained his usual query as to when Pacey would return home. King Witter, while understanding of Pacey�s plight, was growing impatient for his youngest son (and child) to return home and resume his royal duties. In his own gruff manner it was King Witter�s way of expressing his concern for his youngest son. Pacey sighed. He wasn�t ready to come home, not yet anyway. And yet Jen�s visions brought a sense of urgency within Pacey, almost as if they were calling him back. The past year Pacey had traveled Nova playing the role of the wanderer and sometimes the mercenary for hire. He spent the year learning more about the world of Nova - its history, development, wars and about the Linkens. Now he had a fragmented picture - a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing. His journey had lead him to the Xorads, a group of people not unlike the gypsies who were nomadic by nature and reclusive from society. They were more in touch with the Old ways - rituals that had been long forgotten, songs and dances that existed only as a memory in the history books were maintained by the Xorads. He had stumbled upon the Xorads accidentally but they had not been surprised to see him. In fact it seemed to Pacey that they had almost been expecting him. One thing was sure, the Xorads knew more about Pacey's plight and his quest to find Joey than he had to told them, than he had told anyone for that matter. Nor were they surprised at the appearance of Gilk, greeting the wolf like an old acquaintance. It was the Xorads who taught Pacey much of what he now knew about Nova.
Jerel paused, a solemn silence so that the gravity of his words could sink in. "Nova is a world of magic. While it has developed and become increasingly more and more civilized and industrialized, Nova is fundamentally a world of magic. All the new technology is, of course, of much use but this modernization has occurred at the cost of the magic. One of the great casualties of the Nova's development was the tearing apart of Atiivar and Seretus. And more importantly the tearing apart of two people that were truly in love. Let me tell you a story Pacey. A story about a girl called Illana and a boy called Tomis. Illana lived in Atiivar. Her father was a great mage and the head adviser to the then King of Atiivar. Tomis lived in Seretus. Tomis belonged to the royal family of Seretus. Illana and Tomis were childhood friends. Sure they bickered and fought for most of their childhood and even acted like they were mortal enemies but they were friends. They grew up together and one day when they were young adults, they realized that they had fallen in love. Only the King of Atiivar and the King of Seretus had recently had a falling out. Some minor dispute over a bet or something like that. Seretus and Atiivar declared war on each other. Tomis as a member of the royal family could no longer consort with Illana. And Illana as the daughter of Atiivar's most powerful mage and adviser to the King was forbidden to see Tomis. The wars continued for many years. Illana and Tomis disobeyed orders not to see each other. The two met secretly anyway. They were too much in love. However the King and Queen of Seretus had only two sons. When Tomis' older brother Finn died during one of the many battles fought between Seretus and Atiivar, Tomis became heir to the throne. Events moved quickly after that. The King had been suspicious that Tomis had been meeting up with Illana but had always secretly been fond of the girl. Until Finn's death he had not been too concerned with his younger son's love affair. Only now Tomis was heir apparent. A marriage was arranged between Prince Tomis and the Lady Sione. Plans were made to break up Illana and Tomis. They were successful. No one was sure how they managed to convince Tomis to marry the Lady Sione, he was certainly unwilling but marry they did. Illana's heart was broken. A few months later she married the heir to Atiivar's throne, Prince Doniel. She died in childbirth ten months later. Some say of a broken heart. Illana's father, the magician Quenton, never forgave Tomis, Seretus or Atiivar. He cared naught about the wars or his loyalty to the King of Atiivar. He only cared that he had lost his only daughter. All of this started a chain of events that is only beginning to unravel. Tomis and Illana's ill-fated love affair. Their different marriages. Illana's death and Mage Quenton's anger. You, Pacey are the direct descendant of Tomis. Illana is your Joey's ancestor. In fact if you ever get the chance to find the portraits of either of them you will notice a striking resemblance. In looks you are Tomis and Joey is Illana." "So what does this all mean?" Pacey whispered, stunned at the news. "It means that the magic of Nova is trying to right a wrong. It means that someone is interfering to prevent the correction of past mistakes. There is more that you will need to know but that will be revealed in its appropriate time." Pacey noticed that Jerel seemed to be looking at Gilk when he spoke and wondered about the wolf's secrets. "There is one more thing that you need that I can give you now." Jerel handed Pacey a small, smoky white crystal, "Take this and treasure it. It will help you find your love, Joey." "But how?" "Its use will be made known eventually." The Xorad's chief refused to say anymore. And the next day Pacey received the message from Jack. Pacey continued to watch the fire, watched as the flames grew smaller and the fire slowly died away. He shivered instinctively beneath the covers of his makeshift bed and suddenly became acutely aware of the blackness around him. Something was calling Pacey back. He wasn�t sure if he was ready to return but return he must although not home, not yet. Instead Pacey would return to the Isle of Guawyn, a place haunted by memories of Joey and the place where it all began and ended. |
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