| She kissed his cheek, hugged him then began to fade. �I love you. . . .� he whispered. He opened his eyes. A dream? Incredible. He sat straight up, looking around him in a slightly confused state. Had it been a dream, a vision, or something stranger? A message, some form of contact from beyond the grave? He knew not, but whatever it was, it was something more profound than a mere dream. Climbing out of bed, he moved to the window of his bed chambers. Brushing the curtain aside, he gazed out beyond the mountains, toward the horizon. He didn�t know if he could go back to saving the humans, especially when there was a chance they could turn on him. He sighed wearily, his emotions in turmoil. Could he do what she had asked? He didn�t know. Closing the curtain, he dressed silently, knowing his decision had already been made. It was time to leave this place. Stytentos joined the monks in a last meal, explaining that it was time for him to go. They prayed and anointed him with oils to protect him against evil. He thanked them then told them his farewells. As he walked away from the temple that had been his home, his sanctuary from the world for so many years, a twinge of sadness struck him. Taking a last look, he turned and headed for the border of Tibet and toward the rest of the world. |
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| Chapter Two He made his way across barren, rocky terrain, across open fields and rolling hills, across beautiful meadows until he had entered the familiar woods of his home country. The trip had taken several weeks, and he was somewhat exhausted. It had become a beautiful late afternoon. As he walked through the forest, the sound of waves crashing into a shoreline reached his ears. He was near the sea. No, I can�t be. . . .he told himself. He turned, searching the woods around him for proof of being wrong. The surrounding area�s beauty was still intact, but it was not inviting as it had been so many times before. It instead seemed to mock him. Then he caught sight of something he had feared. A dilapidated roof just visible over the top of a hill. Unable to stop himself, he began to walk toward the familiar, angular shaped roof. Please, don�t let it be . . . . As he reached the top of the hill, a lump formed in his throat. He knew he shouldn�t have come here. But he had done so without a conscious thought. Below him sat the sad and decaying form of Volknor Manor, it�s beautiful exterior transformed by a constantly losing battle with the weather. The roof was full of holes where objects had crashed through, the tips of gigantic limbs sticking out. The stone walls were beginning to crumble. Stytentos entered the weed infested yard and stopped. Tears welled up in his eyes as he gazed at the lonely, desolate sight of the house and surrounding yard.. Only a haunting shell of it�s former glory and beauty. Love had lived here once. Now it was a withered place, full of memories. Of horror. Of murder. Crossing the yard, he half-expected to see them come out of the house to welcome him. They did not. He remembered the way it all once had looked. Lovingly taken care of. The tears were now running down his face and he grunted, wiping them away, trying desperately not to give in to his desire to break down. His first step on to the porch produced a loud creak. His next produced a scream of protest under his weight, followed by a crack as the rotten wood gave way. He quickly moved his foot then stared at the dark entrance. The empty doorway reminded him of the traitor who had murdered his friends. A traitor who had never been caught. How could someone do such a thing to their own kind? He entered the living area to find it silent and empty, scant rays of light beaming through several holes in the ceiling, providing dim light. His footsteps were loud, filling the room with a hollow echo. |