The golden rays began to disappear beneath the eastern horizon, casting shadows across the blood splattered field. Throughout the gore that was all that remained of many of the men- stabbed, burned, and at times ripped to pieces just to ensure that they would stay dead- were fights. Fire and Light continued to battle even as their Princes took their last breaths before they were crushed to death. Neither man screamed, they would die with honor. The red-haired madwoman standing before their shadow covered corpses laughed, her cackle echoing throughout the field of battle. From the shadows came her warriors, the men and women of whom the Temples of Fire and Light had missed on their search for those with the power. They were silent, as they had bee trained, and even as they're boots crunched across the bones of the dead, no sound pervaded their space. The remains of the two temples joined together, a motley group of thirty men and woman, more than fifty percent already wound, but they stood their ground. They fought the shadow warriors as best they could, magic clashing against shadow, sword against shield. And the blood continued to flow. She would rule, and there was none left to stop her. The two armies had died thanks to their foolishness, to the fact that their High Priests were blind to all but impending threats from the other. They had ignored the temple that was their original enemy. Before they split to form the two temples, they had battled against those of the Temple of the Dark One. As the coppery scent of freshly spilled blood became thick in the air, she gathered her warriors to her. Raising a fist into the air, she shouted that they had completed their job. That they would rule Sankria now, and forever. Soullessly cold eyes glinted evilly. She thrust her hand out at a circle of darkness, where the most loyal Priests stood, their forms rock solid and thick, "You four! Dress in the robes of Light and take the Palace," a thick laugh bubbled in her throat as she continued, "None will be able to tell that both sides have failed until _I_ am queen!" Unable to watch any longer, the silver haired agent of time clenched a fist, freezing time on the battle field. She could not let this continue. There had to be a way to fix this mess. One Prince would rule, one prince would die. What was the connection between them, and Ilysa? Why the hell was Ilysa so damned important?! Startled by her own use of language, Yumina hunched over, rubbing her forehead. She was getting to far involved in this mess. There had to be something... "This is just too damned hard." This time Yumina wasn't startled by her own voice, but that of the one that floated out from behind her. "Of course it is" Lazily, a thickly muscled arm rested lightly upon the crown of her head, the other hand faintly brushing her neck. Her back went stiff, and had she not been seated, she would have swept the man's feet out from beneath him. Instead, she settled for ramming her elbow into his gillet, and standing to whirl and face him. She was correct. Why did it have to be him? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Gates of Time Chapter Four: The Liar's Rule An Improfanfic from http://www.improfanfic.com Started by Lady Brick This chapter by Sugar-chan -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "What do you want, Beliel?" she growled through tightly clenched teeth. Her hands were curled into fists, knuckles white. She could feel the blood dribbling out from between her fingers as her nails dug into the soft flesh. She ignored it, however, to glare at the handsome young man before her. And handsome he was. At six foot nine, he towered over most men. His smile revealed perfectly white teeth-- if you could get past the fact that his canines were more like fangs. Black hair, tinged slightly red from the blood of the battle, hung in dark tangles down the sides of his cheeks, but the rest was cropped to just above his elfin ears. A hoop of black metal dangled from his left ear, designed to look like a snake biting into his earlobe. His ruby red eyes glittered dangerously, and with a promise of... of something that Yumina couldn't begin to guess at. His usual attire of a thief- black pants, blood red shirt, as well as brown leather boots and gloves- had been replaced. Instead, he wore a thick black cloak over black robes identical to what Ilysa wore. His leather boots could be seen from beneath the robes. One thing you could count on for Beliel was his instance to wear those boots and gloves. "Nothing that I don't normally want, M'lady" the Master of Lies purred, reaching up with one gloved hand to brush a swirl of hair from his eyes. The silver haired young woman crossed her arms and watched the raven haired man warily. Her eyes narrowed into slits at his response, "I'll bet," came her dry reply, "And I also believe you are the one who tainted Ilysa, did you not?" He flashed her one of his smiles, the fangs sending a chill down her spine as always. Reaching into the sleeve of his robes, he drew forth a thin, black book, the golden lettering on the front cover and binding in a language Yumina did not understand. He flipped lazily through the pages, as though he had all the time in the world. He'd pause, every so often, to read a page or two, before settling on a page about halfway through the book. "Hmm, oh yes, here it is. One High Priestess of Darkness, Ilysa," his lips drew back in a dark smile, "It was my brother's idea to use the stragglers. Ilysa was not our first initiate, and nor will she be our last. We just can't let either Fire or Light win, Mina-chan. The realm of darkness deserves to rule." "Don't ever," the agent of fate hissed, clenching her fist tighter, "call me 'Mina-chan'! Stop playing with the tapestry, Liar!" her blood dripped off her fists to splatter on the darkening rocks, creating an oddly soothing backdrop of noise for Yumina. "Flattery," Beliel smiled, taking a step closer to the object of his affections, and at times tortures, "will get you nowhere, Mina-chan," he took another step, grasping her chin in one gloved hand, "You are magnificently beautiful when angry, My dear. Leave the tapestry as it is. Come with me..." he leaned in to give her a kiss. The kiss, however, was interrupted as she broke the spell he was weaving over her. Smacking his cheek, she left four droplets of smeared blood. Her dark gaze held his Ruby eyes in place as she snarled her response, "I have said no before, and I say no again, Beliel. I am not yours, nor will I _ever_ be!" His claw-like fingers dropped away from her chin, and he took a step backwards to his original position. The would not be the last time Beliel asked her. The Master, nay, the Lord of Lies, did not give up. Stubborn as a mule, he was, and he would try for her anyway he could. She knew this, and it angered her. Beliel was one of the few men that could get a rise of her temper. "Such a pity," the master liar clucked his tongue, shaking his lowered, dark head. Ruby eyes flicked up to watch her, and she instinctively took another step backwards, "I will be watching, my little flower, and I will be waiting. You can not reject my power, nor myself forever." He faded from her sight, but her fiery glare remained on the pile of rocks that had stood behind him. Why did he have to be here? she snarled, before taking a couple of deep breaths. She had to control herself. He did this just to bait her temper. He was trying to make everything fail. Turning to retake her seat, she sighed heavily. Just what was that accursed connection? Which string would she have to pull, now? Which way would she have to turn to create a good future, one in which Beliel's interference would not jeopardize? So many things had she tried, and yet, none of them worked. None of them _ever_ worked. Staring up at the starlight sky, Yumina pointed out constellations to herself. This usually calmed her down enough to think rationally. She was missing something, that much she knew. But what was it? What was Beliel hiding from her sight? He'd done it before- Ilysa becoming part of the Priesthood of his brother's, and thus his own, temple. She couldn't directly influence the princes, she was afraid something might happen that she _wouldn't_ be able to correct. Perhaps, if she stayed on the path wrought here... but kept a closer eye on Ilysa... Yes! That could be it! And while she did that, Yumina smiled slightly, she could figure out the connection between the farmer born Ilysa and the twin princes. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beliel drew the slick droplets of red off his cheek, and smiled. Brushing them into a thin crystalline vial, his eyes glittered darkly. What I want, I get... No matter what -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She stood there, fiery hair fluttering in the breeze that rustled her skirt, watching the Temple warily. She had been told, albeit quite late compared to what most people were, that she had the ability to use magic, that the Fire Mages wanted her to study in their temple. At twenty years of age, it seemed strange that she was merely starting on her pathway through magic. She had been leery of coming here, thinking of the words she'd heard not five years prior. Words that had shake her to the core. 'You will be the fall...' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Four years earlier Surreptitiously, the figure slid forwards, watching the caravan's occupants carefully. A black hood carefully hid the face in shadow, the thin black scarf wrapped loosely around the lower face. Only a few errant strands of burning red hair escaped the shadows that clung to the person. An ebony cloak swirled about the person, effectively hiding whether it was a he, or a she. Flitting from shadow to shadow, the being cast looks to the left and right, always searching before moving. It would not do if someone were to catch the shadow-like figure. Finally entering the caravan wagon just slightly out of sight of the fire, the figure removed her hood and scarf. Running calloused hands through her hair, the redhead started when a voice chuckled from the back of the wagon, "Hello there, Ilysa." When Ilysa's father had passed away, she'd been left out in the cold with only her canine Johan for company. They'd taken odd jobs, either paid with shelter or food. It had not been an easy life, and Ilysa begun to harbor hatred for the Light Priests who had saved her village, but not her father. That was when she'd met Erik, one of the boys on the caravan. The ratty-looking blonde child had taken her to meet those he'd called family, and eventually she became a part of that family. There were many she liked, but there were a couple that she actively told others that they only spewed junk. That was why she had need of the dark cloak, she was visiting one that she tended to cuss out more than the others, the fortune teller Cassandra. The pale skinned girl turned to the other woman, pursing her lips. Cassandra was an old woman, with probably only ten more years on her before she succumbed to her death. Salt-and-pepper hair that fell to her waist was held back with a silken golden ribbon, matching the pair of ribbons that coiled around her wrists. A dirty white dress coat was thrown over a pale blue dress. A black panther was embroidered on one lapel of her coat. Amused slate-grey eyes watched Ilysa settle herself in a chair across the old wooden table from her. The sixteen year old looked to the elder woman over steeped fingers, "I... I hate to admit this, but I need to know something, Cassandra." "Oh?" the voice that responded reminded the redhead of a lake, of the waters lapping at the shore ever-so-lightly, working away the sands of time, "This from the girl who does not believe in fortunes?" "Cassandra, please," Ilysa gritted her teeth, "I'm not here for a verbal sparring match." "Ah, you young ones; can never take a joke. Well, what do you need, Child?" Even though Ilysa had taken to slandering her on multiple occasions, the slate eyed woman had never hated the redhead. Placing her hands flat on the table, Ilysa closed her eyes, willing herself to go through with this, "I... I need to know if I have any sort of magical ability. I always miss the Fire Priests when we visit villages, but I _have_ to know!" Cassandra's eyes danced merrily, "Of course you do, Child. Give me your hand." Hesitantly, Ilysa reached out, and placed her hand in the elder woman's wrinkled grip. Cassandra drew a harsh intake of breath, eyes slitting open. She stared, half in awe, half in fear, at the girl before her. Realizing the other's hand, the woman with salt-and-pepper hair looked at the young woman fidgeting nervously in front of her. "Ilysa... You have great power, Child, but you will be the fall if you are not careful. That's all I can say." Ilysa stood, nodding her head and retrieving her scarf, "Thank you Cassandra." she disappeared into the night. Cassandra bowed her head, a lone tear tracking it's way down her wrinkled cheek, "I wish this wasn't on your shoulders, Ilysa. I wish that you did not play such a hard fast role in the fall of the Sankria Kingdom..." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It had taken her three years to catch up with a Fire Priest, and another year to finally leave the caravan and head for the Temple of the Brilliant One. Now, the young mage-to-be stood before the temple and thought back on Cassandra's words. Would studying here bring the fall? Fall of what, exactly? That she had yet to figure out. A prince? A Temple? Magic? The one thought that she did not want to dwell on was the one she most feared. The fall of everything. Shaking her head from those thoughts, she entered the temple. Columns of the purest marble created the front gates, but within it was a veritable fortress. Stone and wood mingled with bars of metals and marble, building high walls, and heavy protection. Protection for a war that had been predicted for years. Did she really want to start her training now? Yes, she decided firmly, eyes narrowing slightly. She would get revenge on the Temple of the Shining One and all who resided within. They would not escape; they would greet death as her father had. In pain. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There was no light in the room, shadows darkening the chamber into a den of pitch black. Only a fainter shade of gray than the empty room- although "hall" would be a better term for it. The passageway was behind high priest Kindar's personal living quarters, five feet wide by seven feet tall. The sound of feet shuffling down the darkened passage caused a brief moment of movement- movement from a shape that had been so still that it had seemed to be a part of the corridor. The dry rustle that accompanied the scuffing boots gave way to the idea of something brushing across the floor. A splash of gold-red burned around the sharp corner at the end of the hall. The figure shrank back from the light, as though afraid of whom it may be. The faint light sketched the features of the face as slim and masculine, with sharp, piercing eyes- even when cast in shadow- and eyelashes too long to normally be considered male. There was no color to the face- only a brush of gray against the eternal darkness of the passage. The form that turned the corner was not one normally seen down the old walks. He held himself with an air of indifference, and would have looked fairly aloof, had he not been using a cane to support half his weight. He was one of the eldest of all the priests- but he was not the high priest, the oldest of them all. His robes were blood red, and seemed to swallow him into their depths. Blue-black eyes peered out from under a heavy snow white brow, while chestnut hair flecked with white was tied back in a ponytail that fluttered about his neck. A tiny breeze, created by the thin cracks in the walls, ruffled both hair and robes, and made the mage-fire floating above his cane dance in merriment. The shadow detached itself from the wall, finally stepping into the faint edge of light against dark. Standing only four foot nine, the shadowy being was on par with the old man's eye level. The left ear was pierced three times: twice with silver hoops at the top of the earlobe, and a larger, black hoop at the bottom. Eyes with a falcon-like intensity flashed vibrant gold, watching the elder carefully. Blonde bangs brushed the forehead, while the rest was swept back in a flare of gold that looked, almost like fire, had the hair been vertical, not diagonal. The person- whether male or female, still could not be told- was dressed in a black tunic and gray leggings. Black boots and gloves covered the ends of his- or her- limbs. In one hand, the shadowed person held an empty vial, gently rolling it over his/her digits. S/he gave a light bow, then straightened to look his/her employer in the eye, "Anything else?" the dry whistle that edged past her lips indicated just that- the speaker was female, no matter how much she did to hide that fact. He gave her a smile, motioning slightly with his cane, the light flickering closer to her- and causing her to jump back as though afraid, "Nothing, Ailuros. You are free of your debt it me." She showed no emotion, just as she hadn't the entire time that the pair had watched each other. Her hand slid into the light, going no farther than the edge of her glove, the vial in her palm, "Then this is yours, Saladyn." Saladyn took the vial from his "companion", and held it to his mage-fire, "Ah, it's still good for use." Ailuros' already narrow eyes became dangerously glinting slits of molten rock, "You promised a reward." "Ah yes," the old priest smiled, fishing a book from his sleeve, "this would be yours". The book he held out to her had a blood red cover, the deliberately plain scrawl across the front and the bindings stating the tome's use. A ball of silver flame was painstakingly designed beneath the title, the same silver that coated the edges of the pages. Taking the book from her employer, Ailuros melted back into the shadows, and Saladyn smiled darkly. His peppered hair grew shorter, darkening to a devious red-black, that hung just above lengthening ears. His eyes glittered like the fire above his hand- a fire that abruptly went out as his eyes glowed like blazing coals, and settling back into their natural ruby tones. He grew taller, even as his lengthening robes of red dulled, and became ashen before reverting back to the shadows of darkness that they usually were. Illusions shattered, and once again, Beliel stood in his true light. The Master of Lies chuckled, deep in his throat as he turned back the way he had come. Using one of the more loyal of his brother's priestesses to get rid of the King was brilliance, if he did say so himself, and then there was the fact that Ilysa had only arrived in the Temple that night. As leery as she was about everything, this did not stop Averny from falling head over heels in love with her looks. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Author's Babble: I couldn't really think of anything past that point. It doesn't help that I was stuck for ideas until a day or so ago. I had to pull a couple of scenes out of my 'failed' fanfictions, and alter them quite a bit, but hopefully it worked. Thus... my only prereader was my mother... which is really pathetic if you think about it. Oh well. This is my first Impro-- that was actually called an Impro. Hope this is good enough for ya, because I sure can't get it any better (well, I might be able to but that would mean I'd have to have a year to make it better in...) Sugar-chan "No, really, I _am_ Batman"