Lost Days In the Age of Time

Erm. Yeah, I think some of you guys may have seen this at AFC, but I don't eally update it regularly there. I'm not posting all of it. But some of it.

Prologue

Special are they, who think of the present as the past, the future as present and the past as future; for they shall know the glory that is to come, the avid future in its repose and the past with all its failures. They shall see the future with the eyes of the wise, the past with the eyes of sorrow, and the present with a burden of hate. They shall be scorned for all their wisdom and when the time comes when they are at their best; they will be persecuted by those who see the past as the present, the present as the past and the future as an unforgettable mistake.

Beware, those who see as we; those who are special as we, for you will be despised for all eternity. Beware, for we are of the Lost Days. Lost Days in the Age of Time. I am a survivor. I am the last of us who have lived since before the Lost Days and the only one to survive the Lost Days on this world. They were lost for the reason that you will see as I tell you the sad tale of this down-beaten world. This one world that refuses to believe in anything supernatural. The world which you think you know so well.

So? Have you, who see as we, decided to learn of the days that were lost? Let me tell you, the world is not as it appears. It is more experienced than you think, and more ready to destroy us. There are other things of which you must find out on your own, but I will show you what I can. I am Zypheron, the last known living Prophetic Symbol of Hope for the clan of the Seyrems. And you will learn of their sad tale. But beware, of those who see the present as the present, the past as future and the future as past. They have powers you can not even imagine. Even to stay the hand of the Overlord. However, as long as I am here, or you take on the responsibility, there is still Hope for the Seyrems. The responsibility of the Wolf, Snowy White.


Signed,
Zypheron

And the Tale Begins

It was cold; freezing to say the least. A lone man hopped from foot to foot, where was he? He was in a little town in the middle of nowhere, at least, that was his opinion of the place. It was a small town in the open with no woods and no streams. It was Barren. His eyes flew back and forth as he waited in the cold; a clear, bright blue, his eyes looked wolfish. He could feel things changing; hatred invaded the minds of many around him who had been perfectly happy before. Passed down like an inheritance through generations of the best of families as well as the worst.

He shuddered as the cold seeped through the spaces in his wraps and cloaks. He glanced around, making sure that no one was watching. Of course, who in their right mind would be outside in this mess? Still, he glanced around again; no one. He disappeared and in his place stood a very large, snow-white Wolf. Being white while the blizzard swirled around him, the only way someone could see him, was if they looked right at his bright blue eyes. They were not ordinary wolf’s eyes; not only were they blue, but they had pink pupils instead of black, a sign of powerful magic.

He huddled against the wall of a house in the alley; waiting.
“I thought we had agreed to be as unnoticeable as possible.”
The wolf instantly turned back into a man, a bit sheepish, he hadn’t even seen the elder man there, “We had,” he admitted, “But it was just,”
“Too cold?”
The elder’s voice always sent shivers down his spine, but his hair rose a bit at his tone. He nodded, “Yes sir.”
“Zypheron, don’t call me that.” His black eyes turned to Zypheron and his tone sent bolts of ice into his blood.
“I-I know,” He stammered, “It doesn’t feel right to call you just Zerrvan.”

Zerrvan removed his eyes from Zypheron and paid attention to fixing his wrap to close and spaces. “Don’t worry, I felt it was too cold to stay in human form as well. I really came here at a fast lope.”
Zypheron stared in amazement at his former master, he questioned, “Such a horse as you can be, but isn’t it too cold for a horse?”
“No. What you must remember, Zypheron, is that we Symbols are not like normal animals. We do not act upon instinct like they, and we most certainly do not have the weaknesses that they have. We can last in colder temperatures and in hotter temperatures for longer lengths of time. We fight better than they as well. Besides, the Icelandic is no ordinary horse.” He turned away from his wraps and stared into Zypheron’s eyes. “Now, to what I wanted to talk to you about. We can’t talk very well in the cold; especially for what we need to talk of. Come, let us go to the tavern, it will be much warmer in there.” He began walking toward the alley opening; flickering into the form of a snow white pony, which, incidentally, blended in easily with the snow.

Zypheron stood still for a moment and watched Zerrvan fade into the snow. They weren’t like the others. They were special. But he knew they had to be careful. He wondered if this was the same feeling that had caused Zerrvan to call him for a meeting after only thirty years apart. Because they all knew they must be careful.

He ran to catch up with his master, and, after a brief conversation through thought, climbed onto the bare back of Zerrvan. Zypheron wove his fingers into the mane and held on tightly while Zerrvan loped to the other side of the town to the tavern.

Zypheron’s hands froze, clutching tightly to the white mane and it took a few seconds to unstuck them so he could get off. After pulling his hands free, he noticed some of his skin did not release the mane, but had released him instead. He rubbed his hands carefully together, getting the blood flowing, but trying not to chaff the raw skin. “Come, go into that alley.” The pony brought it’s head up and stared with his left eye into Zypheron’s before trotting off to the alley.

After some thought, when Zerrvan came back, Zypheron brought up a problem he was considering, “The Seyrems, for certain, do not doubt us. But I’m afraid the others will.” Zerrvan nodded, “But the Seyrems have no hope against my people.” He said harshly.
“But your people Zerrvan! Can’t you talk them out of it?” He rubbed his hands together more out of desperation, then discomfort, not even noticing he ripped open more and had begun to bleed. They wandered into the light, pooling out of the tavern.
“I’m afraid, Zyff, that my people only see me as a Symbol. They care not what the Horse of Daring says.” He sighed, “I can’t even go into their settlements without fear they will drive me out. So they do not ask me if they are doing the right thing.”

The tavern was light and warm except near the door, there were blankets draped around stacked chairs near the door to keep the biting wind from straying inside. People were sitting at their tables, drinking and laughing and having fun. Zypheron could not understand it. For all that he knew; he couldn’t see why men had no burdens on themselves for what they do. He glanced at a red-bearded man, who was standing on a table and shouting out an old tune with new words. Just yesterday, he had sold his friend’s horse, while he had stolen it a few days before during a storm and told his friend he had seen it wander off in the storm. He did not seem to regret this. And his friend had no idea, that he was drinking mead bought by his friend with money that had come from the sale of his own horse.

Zypheron turned his eyes away from this scene, “Is there a room?” he asked Zerrvan.
“Yes.” Zerrvan walked quickly to the counter, “Young lady, my name is Croldun, there is a room for me and my friend, is there not?”
The girl stared at the two men in front of her, they obviously knew what they were doing, but she had never seen them before. The younger man was… beautiful. His bright blue eyes held her gaze, “Wha-what?” she didn’t turn back to Zerrvan, the other one was better looking. “You haven’t been here before.”
Zerrvan demanded attention, “Look at me girl.” She turned back to him.
“Good, now, I am Croldun, I sent a boy, Chatya to reserve a room. A meeting room.”
She smiled, “Yes sir. There are already five others in there.” She shifted her eyes back to the other. He flashed her a smile before following after Croldun.

“Why do you have to do that?”
Zypheron was shocked, “Do what?”
Zerrvan raised an eyebrow, “Why can’t you look like an old man or something? We are supposed to not be noticed. That poor girl couldn’t help but notice you.” He reached for the door. They could hear raised voices on the other side. As usual. Zerrvan shook his head, “You’re bleeding.”
Zypheron looked down at his hands, “Oh.” He raised them to his face and blew on them lightly, when he brought them down, the cuts were gone.
Zerrvan bit his lip, “Beautiful. Now, before we enter this chaos, tell me one thing.”
Zypheron smiled, “Of course.”
“Why don’t you look ugly?”
“Because I prefer to not waste energy in transforming myself into something I’m not.” He opened the door. “Unlike other people I know.” He grinned at his master, “Shall we? The other Prophetic Symbols are waiting.”
“You are the most evil Prophetic Symbol I have ever met.”
Zypheron followed Zerrvan into the now noiseless room. “Thank you.”

o... my... god... how do you wright these things!!!!!!!!

I'll take that as a compliment.

Rainy, I suppose. She's like my other half. Where my inspiration comes from. Of course, she's just me being me. But I've oficially named her.

EDIT: More.



After shedding several layers of coats and wraps, Zerrvan turned to the head of the table in a small room wearing black cloth pants and a light blue wrap shirt. Zypheron headed to the last chair left at the end of the table wearing a white wrap shirt and black cloth pants. He sat down next to a blonde-haired boy who beamed up at him, “Hey Zypheron! I saved the seat for you.” His green eyes flashed constantly as he stared at Zypheron.
“Thanks Chatya.”

Chatya continued to stare at Zypheron with some sort of fascination, even when Zerrvan stood up. He only stopped staring and turned to Zerrvan when he spoke.
“Everyone, I see we are all here. Chatya,” He nodded to Chatya, who commenced smiling his bright grin. “Salima,” A solemn, black-haired woman stared sulkily at Zerrvan with red eyes on Chatya’s left. “Jurtek,” An angry looking man with black eyes and red hair sat on the other side of Salima; he nodded his head slightly, staring across the table at the owner of the next name Zerrvan said, “Kiarkata,” A cheerful, brown-haired girl-- who sat on the other side of Zypheron-- smiled and nodded toward Zerrvan, her purple eyes sparkled brightly when he said her name. “Roufben,” A young man lounged lazily, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the table next to Kiarkata; he nodded, but kept his eyes closed. His golden hair was rather ruffled, reminding Zypheron of the Eagle he was. “Zypheron, and myself.” Zypheron nodded to Zerrvan when his name was said.

“Now, first of all, thank you Chatya, for inviting us to your clan’s main town.” Chatya nodded again. Apart from Chatya’s two sentences and Zerrvan, Zypheron noted that none of the others had said anything; a strange occurrence between Prophetic Symbols.
“Well, we are here about a problem I assume we have all felt.”

A husky, heavily accented voice cut in after Zerrvan’s opening statement, “It iz outrageous zat ze ‘umans ‘ill keel uz! ‘E iz too important to zem!” It was Salima, she stood up angrily, glaring at the others (Now here I must say, that Salima was the most hopeful of them all. You see, she was not from this world; she came from another before the one that sent her here. So she is not well accustomed to humans.) “Zey ‘ill not dare to ‘urt uz! Ze ‘ouldn’t!”

Kiarkata’s eyes flashed dangerously. Jurtek stood up and spoke up for Salima, “Salima no does know how the humans act. She no is from this world. Know we that the humans will indeed kill us if chance given?”
Salima glared at him, not seeing Kiarkata’s anger, “No ze ‘ouldn’t. ‘E are mooch too po’erful for zem.” She looked at each in turn, “Right?” Now she turned directly to Roufben.

Roufben opened his yellow eyes as if feeling Salima’s upon him and slowly brought his feet to the ground. He looked around the table while the rest stared at him expectantly. Standing up he slowly pronounced his sentence, “Salima, I’m sorry, but they would kill us. That’s it; they aren’t like the beings you know. These are Humans. They are dangerous, barbaric and untrustworthy.” He shook his head, “So much that they all carry weapons for fear of a friend. These are not good times. These are times when we are most feared and the danger to ourselves is at its highest. I fear the Humans have greed in their hearts as well as a lust for power. And while we Prophetic Symbols are here, they do not have that power.”

Salima stood stock still; terrified, perhaps, for the fact that there were many humans right outside the door. And not just any humans, many drunken humans with weapons. “Zo? ‘At do ‘e do? Let zem keel uz?” Her pale face flushed red as she spoke.
“Sit down.” Zerrvan’s commanding tone sent everyone back to their seats. Roufben resumed his position of leaning back with his heels on the table.

The door creaked open, “Pardon me,” the bar girl entered the room with a tray of Carboit and Mead (Carboit is a very tasty rice/pumpkin mixture wrapped in tough dough, rolled in honey and baked.). “I thought you might be hungry.” She hurriedly set the tray on the table and backed out of the room, staring at Zypheron as she did so.
Zerrvan watched as the door closed, then glared at Zypheron. Zypheron shrugged, “Carboit is always good.”

Zerrvan continued, “We have not yet discussed when. Now,” Zerrvan turned directly to Chatya, “Do you know when they will turn on us?”
Chatya stood up and grinned at them all, “I, am Chatya and, as you all know, the Yakatai’s Symbol of Time. I see time much more clearly than any of you.” Here he hesitated, then said quickly before sitting down, “I see us all five years.”
“Five years?! Not five decades or something?”
Kiarkata glared at Jurtek, “I assume five years is enough. If not, you are not a very worthy Symbol.” She stood up, definitely taller than before. “A Prophetic Symbol should be able to act immediately after hearing news. Otherwise, that Symbol should be replaced.”

Zypheron bit his lip, “Kiarkata, he was just surprised. There is no need for you to spout code!”
She turned on him, “Spout code?” She asked shrilly, “I am obeying the code! I am pointing out a flaw in a Prophetic Symbol that must obviously be replaced!” Her purple eyes flashed dangerously toward him as he stood up defensively. “I’m quicker, Little One.”
Kiarkata crouched and growled at him, “I’m not a little kid. I’m just as old as you are Zypheron, and just as fast!”
“But just a bit more likely to die first.”
“What?” Kiarkata stood up looking dazed, “I’m… first?”

The sudden change in the atmosphere of the room was deafening. She dropped into her chair. Chatya’s green eyes stopped flashing; that was when you knew he was completely there. “Yes, Kiarkata, you.”
Kiarkata stared at the grainy table. Now noticing how it swirled and in a never-ending circle in just one spot. How it flowed and twisted in others. And how, when hot tears hit it, the water splashed up and away, leaving the original spot dry. The rest of the tears funneled into a swirling mass, around and around. “I thought that… it would be little Zyff. Not me.”
She didn’t dare look up, lest the tears run down her face too. Neither did she speak again as hot tears of anger, sorrow, and a hint of wistfulness; dropped onto the table.

The talk of the death of one of them was enough to silence them all for minutes. They had never seen each other cry, though they had all done so secretly. Zypheron felt horrible about what he said. Jurtek swallowed a Carboit whole. Roufben leaned his head against the table. Salima swore in the outerworldian language. And Zerrvan looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. Chatya rubbed his eyes and stared off into the distance. “I could be wrong, you know. It could be me.” Kiarkata shook her head, “If it’s not Zyff. It’s me. Just tell me why.”
Chatya shifted uneasily in his chair, “It’s not for me to share such information. You know that.” Kiarkata nodded.

Roufben reached out his right hand and touched the edge of the Tear Swirl in the grain with his fingertip. The tears inside the swirl turned a murky blue before twisting itself around into a bright, electric blue. Outside, the tears turned red. Swirling in the natural grooves of the grain, the different colors slowly mixed, forming a tornado shape before completely mixing into a violent shade of purple. It sucked down into the table like a whirlpool and disappeared. The grooves in the grain were gone and the area was smooth as silk.

Kiarkata had watched this attentively. “No,” She finally stated, “I don’t want to.” Everyone sat back, no longer as uneasy. Zypheron felt as if he was the only one who didn’t know what this meant. He was right, but he decided that perhaps someone would say what it meant before he made himself known as a fool.

Kiarkata shrugged, “It’s either all of us, or one of us.”
Chatya shook his head, “Or none of us.”
Salima’s head shot up, “’At iz ze meaning of ziz? Huh? Are you zuggezting zat none of uz leave?”
Chatya stared steadily into her eyes, “Yes, that is exactly what I’m suggesting. For someone who can’t even pronounce her own name correctly, you sure are opinionated.”
Salima narrowed her eyes, “I juzt don’t ‘ant to keel over an’ die. Iz zat an act of co’ardice?”
Chatya smiled sweetly, “No, I’m just wondering. If that’s your outlook on life, how many Worlds you have abandoned. That’s all.”

Salima was full ready to bite back when Zypheron spoke up. He had been staring at the now smooth portion of the table when a thought occurred to him. “Why don’t we discuss this thoroughly?” He looked up at Zerrvan, “Start from the beginning, I mean.” He could feel all eyes upon him. “With this new information, we discuss it… collectively.”

Silence followed his statement, making him feel very uncomfortable. Finally, Jurtek said something surprising, yet pleasing to everyone. “I much like this idea of young Zyff’s. No have we done this before. Was always shouting and anger. I believe do, that Zypheron is growing up.”
Roufben nodded, “I agree, Zypheron is finally showing wisdom and maturity.”
Zypheron could not argue; he was the one who was always rash and angry.
Zerrvan looked around the table, “Any objections? Good. Now, before we put events to come chronologically,” He turned to Zypheron, “I want you to watch the Legna. And don’t either of you die.”

Zypheron was mystified, but nodded. He was sure to know by the end of the meeting.

Just postin' a bit more. Because I feel like it, and I've finished editing it.

Meeting the Legna…

She was in the back room, switching the tap to another barrel when she heard the shouts of several drunken patrons. At first she thought it was a fight, but in a second the shouts reached her ears clearly. “Sing us a song, Mira!” She smiled as she finished screwing in the tap, every night she’d been asked to sing. But when she went back out to the counter, her master grabbed a hold of her shoulder “She ain’t singing today!” He shook her hard, “She needs to feed the animals or they’ll all starve.” He glared at her, “Now get out, you little witch!” He threw her at the entrance, “Go!”

Mira covered her head with her arms and scurried behind the blankets as he threw a mug full of mead at her. Laughter erupted from the drunken crowd as the mead spilled over the blankets and floor, freezing almost instantly, forming a mirrored, slick surface. Mira stared sadly into her reflection for a moment, “Won’t he come back?” She whispered to it. She shivered, but didn’t dare grab a blanket to bring with her. She feared what he would do if she did. She wrapped her arms around herself instead and slipped into the blizzard.

Feeling along the wall, she turned two corners and slipped her hand along the third side. Finding a shallow niche in the wall, she placed her back against the wall and walked straight. “Remember Leon, remember Leon. He forgot. Don’t forget. Don’t be like Leon. Remember Leon.” She repeated these words to herself as she walked forward, trying to stay straight. She hugged herself tighter, her fingers and her toes were going numb already.

A light shone faintly to her left and she turned to it. A hand reached out and grabbed her arm. Mira screamed, but the wind whipped it away while the rest was muffled by a hand over her mouth.
“This is what I get for helping you?” The man’s exasperated voice sounded quiet in the wind. Mira turned around and saw the stranger there, still holding her arm. “The barn is this way Missus. Don’t follow the light.” Mira looked back behind her, the light was gone. “Where did it go?”
He shrugged, “People like to mess with the free-less. Don’t pay attention to them.” He slipped his hand down to pull her hand as he turned back to the barn. “Come,”

Mira was speechless; she let him pull her to the barn as she studied him. He wasn’t wearing the wraps that he had had on when she first saw him, he looked smaller. She could now see his dark brown hair and a dark scar down the side of his neck.

He let go of her and stepped aside, “I don’t have the key.” She fumbled with the chain about her neck and drew out a key. Forcing the key into the lock, Mira tried to turn it, but had difficulty; the lock was frozen. The stranger reached out his hand and turned it for her, “Anything else needed?” She burned bright red and forced out a “No”. She knew he was laughing at her. She couldn’t even unlock a door.

Mira pushed open the door and stirred the fire with a bit of wood before placing a few logs on it. She rubbed her hands together in front of the fire; hoping to warm them before feeding all the animals. He sat down on the ground cross legged, watching while Mira pitched hay into the horses’ stalls and the cows and goats. As she threw the pigs slop into the trough she grimaced at the fact that they got better food than she did and he asked her, “Who is Leon?”

She turned to him, narrowing her eyes and demanded, “You shouldn’t have heard that. You were too far away. How did you hear that?” He watched her begin to carry bucket after bucket from the barn well. “I have sharp ears. But you avoided the question.”
Mira lugged a bucket up to the horses’ stall, she set it down and shooed the horses away, “He was a no one. Why should you care?” Picking up the bucket she dumped it and went back to the well.

He stood up and grabbed a bucket to help, “Just interested. You kept telling yourself not to be like him.” Mira glared at him, “You are a very nosy stranger. If you must know, he was a slave who got lost in a blizzard years ago when he went to feed the animals.”

Finally Mira sat down on the pig pen wall. He sat next to her. She stared into the goat pen, “Who are you?”
He smiled at a grey pony who was staring him, “Zypheron, and you?”
“Mira.”
There. She knew his name, that’s all she wanted to know, she stood up, “I have to go back inside.”
Zypheron shook his head, “No, he’s passed out. And the Missus is at the counter. Why is there a well in the barn?”
Mira stared at him, “Where do you come from? Everyone has a well in their barn. The blizzards are so bad. Besides, how do you know this? About the Master and the Missus, I mean.”
He turned away, “I saw it before I left.” Liar. He’s lying, leave. You don’t want to be here. You know it. You need to go back inside. Get away from him!

He fingered the grey mane of the pony, “I’ve never seen a well in a barn before. Where I come from, the well is in the courtyard.”
Mira stared at the pony, he must be new. She shook her head, “I must go. The Missus…” She didn’t explain further, she didn’t even know what she was going to say if he asked what about the Missus. Zypheron stood up and held out his hand, “I don’t want you to get lost when I could have helped you. I owe you, I would never had known to put a well in my new barn.”
Mira looked carefully into his bright eyes; then grabbed his hand, “Fine then.” She opened the door.

Zypheron looked back at Zerrvan, standing there petting the horses. He looked up at Zypheron and shook his head, that’s not how a Human acts, Idiot! You shouldn’t let on you know more than you should! Zypheron smacked his head.
“What did you do that for?”
Zypheron walked out of the barn so Mira could lock the door and not see Zerrvan inside, “I thought I felt something.”
Mira stared at him curiously, he was very strange. The sooner she loses him the better.

A bit more then. Because I felt like it. And, shame on me, I began the first chapter of the second one already. I shouldn't do that. But I did. Oh well. The story continues. This is still part of the above (Which I have just edited.)


As soon as they got inside, Mira practically ran all the way to the counter. She leaped onto the counter and dropped onto the other side. She quickly realized that Zypheron was right; Master was lying passed out on a table. Zypheron leaned against the counter and watched a fight break out in one of the corners of the Tavern, “Does this happen a lot?”

Mira grabbed a few empty mugs off the counter and dunked them into a wash tub, “Every night.” She grabbed a towel and began washing the mugs. She finally brought herself to ask him something that confused her, “Why were you outside? You didn’t have your wraps on, you must not have been out there long.”

Zypheron turned around and placed his forearms on the counter, “I followed you.” He watched her for a minute, “Do you talk to your reflection a lot?” Mira stared into the water, intently washing the mugs, “That’s none of your business.” She muttered. The Missus came and dumped some more empty mugs at her feet, “Ah, I see he passed out again? Ye are a lucky girl, Mira.” She glared at Zypheron, “Who is dis young man?”

Zypheron smiled at her, “I’m only here for a little while. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
The Missus shook her head, growled, “Ye’d better be.” then walked away to wash some of the deserted tables.

Mira dunked some soap in the bucket, “So you are only staying the night then. You leave tomorrow?”
Zypheron nodded, his eyes sparkled, “Yes. But I’m coming back.”
“Why?”
“I need to come back for a bit of business. One of the farmers is moving out of town. I plan on buying his farm. That’s where I’m building my new barn.”
Mira laughed, “Moving out of town? Ha! He was forced out more likely. Robid didn’t like him much.”
Zypheron watched the red-head Robid as he dove into the fray of drunkards and sized him up, “I think I could take him if necessary. Anyway, I’m buying it.”
“Robid might not like that.”
“I don’t care if Robid likes it or not. He won’t be able to make me leave.”

Mira dried off her hands and lay her arms on the counter, “You don’t look like a farmer.” Zypheron grinned, “I’ll become one. Just wait and see. When I come back in the spring, you will see a farmer. I will raise cattle and horses. I will grow wheat and pumpkins. However, I refuse to look the part of a farmer.”
Mira frowned and grabbed the plates the Missus set on the counter. She dropped them into the tub, “You can’t be a farmer and not look like a farmer. That’s like being a cow and looking like a chicken.” Her voice was filled with scorn.
“Oh, just wait. I will pull it off somehow.”

Salima came up behind Zypheron, “Zyff’on, ‘e are leaving. Cum ‘ith uz. ‘E are going ‘ome at lazt.”
Zypheron sighed and stood up. “See you in the Spring I suppose.”
Mira looked at them in alarm. “You’re leaving? Tonight?”
“Iz zere zometing wrong ‘ith zat?” Salima demanded.
Mira looked down; she hadn’t understood a thing this woman had said. “Fine, leave.” And I hope you freeze so you can never come back.
Zypheron grinned at her and turned to leave the tavern, “I’ll be a farmer. You’ll see, and I won’t freeze either.”
Mira smiled insincerely, “I can’t wait.” She muttered drily.
When they got outside, Salima turned on him, “Meera think you a freak. Be more careful, Zyff’on.” She turned into the blizzard and disappeared as a bright red fox, dashing away into the blizzard. Zypheron walked more slowly into it before turning into a wolf and running against the wind to the home he had not been to for decades.

Your story's SO good! If you publish it, I'll bet it'll be a bestseller. Not the kind that one week later, no one buys it anymore. The kind where it's like Stephanie Meyer's or J.K. Rowling. Though I admit, both authors' writing isn't that great with reasons I'll keep to myself.

Thank you . Though I am rather stuck at the moment. I want the story to go one way. Mira wants it to go another. and Zypheron wants it to go yet another. It all boils down to a battle of Wills. I'm determined to win, but I don't think I will.....

Hey, it's the same with me. I can never get a story done, while I have every one of the characters going awry. Like the Elementals (the other post...), it got up to nearly 250pages, but honestly, it was completely screwed. Anyway, that's why I made the new one (dunno what it's called, I just use GUESS because that's the point. I don't think about it unless I want to, so nothing can go wrong. See?