It was 1am. The fog was thickening, and the usual dull glow of the streetlights now cast an eerie haze. Not many people were out, just the party goers, the late shifts, the loners. Duro was counted among them...:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

Duro liked to drive at night. The bursts of orange as his car skipped from lamp to lamp down the street, and the growing and shrinking shadows they created. He loved the thrum of the bass as he cranked the music up, and how it let him release his burdens. Duro had spent hours roaming the city looking for the right one, and now he'd found it.

He slowly turned onto the Heidegger Bypass, a monster of a road, if you could even still consider it to be a road. It was comprised of twelve lanes of traffic that alternated direction depending on the time of day, the traffic buildup, and even to accommodate the emergency crews that reacted to the dozens of daily accidents. Duro was usually put off by the high number of daily fatalities on the bitumen beast, preferring to take the side roads to his destinations, paying any toll and enduring any jam to avoid the deadly track. Tonight, however, it was exactly what he was looking for.

Duro clenched his fingers over the wheel, rolling them forward and then back, assuring himself he had total control of the car. Even as his nerves settled and he grew accustomed to the pace of the highway, another car tore past, throwing his sense into disarray once more. The speeding car blinked out of sight, sliding around a corner at high enough speed to spin itself into the concrete barriers surrounding them both, yet somehow missed the curb and made it to the exit ramp. Duro slowed his breathing, relaxing the muscles in his chest and arms that had clenched at the sudden appearance of the other vehicle.

As another nearby car exited on the left, Duro straightened his seat and eyed the rear-vision mirror. Fighting the growing stiffness in his arms, he adjusted the mirror to better suit his purposes and returned to holding the wheel. It was now that he felt the first flutters. A slight tremor in the lungs, as though he'd stuck his head out the window and was struggling for breath. He unfastened the top few buttons on the shirt he was wearing and flicked around the dial of the air conditioning, again returning his hands to the wheel to fight the seizing joints. The minor comforts did nothing to allay the growing feeling in his gut, the beginnings of his fear.

As Duro pulled level with a blue car, some sporty thing that was well beyond his pay grade, his left arm sprung from the wheel, grabbing his right arm at the wrist. Immediately the car began to shift within the lane, the wheel being torn about as the two arms wrestled for control. Duro gazed on as his left arm attempted to pry his right from the wheel, and the wheel tilted his car ever closer to the blue sportster along side. His breathing had ceased, trickles of sweat poured down his face as his features contorted with alarm and fear, his gut sank and now felt as though it were somewhere meters below his body as he watched the scene unfolding.

With a crash, the two vehicles made contact, their bodies scraping together and whining as their metals were forced into unnatural shapes. It was hard to say which arm was winning the battle for control of Duro's steering wheel, but regardless of either's intention, the car swung out and then back into its blue neighbor. Sparks were showering over the windscreen and it now felt as though ice pumped through Duro's veins. His breathing had returned, and he sucked down air fast enough to pain his chest, a thin squeal escaping his lips as the cars once more collided.

The two speeding automobiles had now managed to hook into each other, the tangled mess of their chassis intertwined. Duro now knew this was the end, his body screaming with terror and pain, his lips still wailing. A fire had ignited somewhere between the two engines and what hazard lights and alarms hadn't already activated came to life. Control of the burning metal mass was impossible. Duro estimated he had but seconds before he impacted the concrete wall now looming before him. Seconds before the fuel of the car detonated like home explosives, engulfing both drivers and leaving no survivors.

So Duro pulled the plug.

The simulation mask slid easily off his head, and the cool air clung to his clammy skin. Duro scratched his head with stiff fingers, slowly easing them into a more natural motion than the console he'd been using. He slowly took in his surroundings, losing the feeling he'd had moments before, and struggling to hold onto it. As he stood up and walked to his bedroom, the blinking lights and whirring fans of his hack unit powered down, going to silent mode to await his next sojourn. One was enough tonight. The subject he'd found had given him enough fear to sate his lust for it. For now his body was tired though, and there would be several hours for him to sleep before the news crews had anything to report on the horrible crash on the Heidegger Bypass.

It's hard to argue when
you won't stop making sense
But my tongue still misbehaves and it
keeps digging my own grave with my

Hands open, and my eyes open
I just keep hoping
That your heart opens

Why would I sabotage
the best thing that I have
Well, it makes it easier to know
exactly what I want with my...

Hands open and my eyes open
I just keep hoping
that your heart opens

It's not as easy as willing it all to be right
Gotta be more than hoping it's right
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy

Put Sufjan Stevens on
and we'll play your favorite song
"Chicago" bursts to life and your
sweet smile remembers you, my

Hands open, and my eyes open
I just keep hoping
That your heart opens

It's not as easy as willing it all to be right
Gotta be more than hoping it's right
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy

Walked away, heard them say
"Poison hearts will never change, walk away again"
Turned away in disgrace
Felt the chill upon my face cooling from within

It's hard to notice gleaming from the sky
When you're staring at the cracks
It's hard to notice what is passing by with eyes lowered

You... walked away, heard them say
"Poisoned hearts will never change, walk away again"

All the cracks, they lead right to me
And all the cracks will crawl right through me
All the cracks, they lead right to me
And all the cracks will crawl right through me, and I fell apart

As I... walked away, heard them say
"Poisoned hearts will never change"
Walked away again
Turned away in disgrace
Felt the chill upon my face cooling from within

<3 AFI

I'm stuck
Stuck on repeat
Spinning around and around
the turntable again

Was I scratched?
Am I scarred?
Doomed to relive
the errors of the past

The loop starts once more
Dragging me along
My will is diminished
My freedom is gone

A slave to this trend
My feet stumble
Over my chains
of thought and emotion

I see the signs
We've been here before
Things remain as always
Unrequited

I know by now you're all tired of these late night "epiphanies" that I seem to have... But that's tough. I have thoughts/emotions/problems/perspectives that need to be voiced in order for me to move along.

Today I'm apologising to all the chicks I know. Just about every chick I know, I have fallen for at one point, or has fallen for me, or I've contemplated going for for various reasons. I have broken emotions and fall easlily for people. However, unlike probably every other person on the planet, I have a tendency to share this information with said person, and destroy whatever friendship was there. I'm not going to take back the words I have given people with regard to my affections, because they have always been true... I wouldn't lie to you... But I will apologise for the damage I have caused to our friendships.

Friends who once kidded around, hugged, and whatever are no longer game to hang out alone with me, to hug me good bye or even get a lift... While others just severed all contact whatsoever except where they are drawn in at social events or by chance encounters out in the world. Is it really that terrifying to be liked? To be appreciated by another person? Or is it some kind of fear that someone who has feelings for you might act upon them at some point? That in a moment they would cross the line of friend when you didn't want them to? Because those of you who truly know and understand me know that I wouldn't.

I wouldn't cross the line because I respect you all too much, because I see the boundaries created by our friendships and by our own lives and the events that have taken place. In fact I only ever share such soul baring information about my affection in order to relieve some of the weight over our friendship, and make it less likely for any incident to occur. By this point in my post some of you will be thinking this is entirely about you, or due to some recent or past incident for which I have regrets, but believe me again when I tell you that there have been many such incidents of this, and I apologise to all of you equally for the damage dealt.

It must also be said that I am a jealous person. Not everyone sees it, in fact it may not be apparent at all, but I can be incredibly jealous when it comes to the person I'm 'swooning' over. This peaks with either me leaving the scene altogether, unable to stomach the hurt and resentment, or just openly hoping for something to happen between the two parties to seperate them. And for this I also apologise, and am quite ashamed.

I am also sorry to those friends who have fallen for me to some degree without any reciprocation, and where possible I have tried to avoid the situations I have described above... Know that there is a fair chance that I realised how things were, and that I appreciate the attention, but have been totally unable to convince my heart and emotions that you were who I am after.

Apologies also to those I have attempted to convince myself I could care for and have hurt in the process, by leading along or offering false hope... It truly breaks me to think that I have done you any of the hurt which I have experienced from time to time from such situations, and if there is anything I can do to comfort such pains you only have to ask.

Now this is by no means a call for help or the cry of an attention seeker, there are things I must say, and saying them in person can be more difficult, and nearly impossible when it spans so many... So I come hear to vent my mess. This is also not a cue for you to tell me what a great guy I am, or how there's more fish in the sea, or that I haven't met the right person... I am not in need of pep talk or morale boosting, I need to sort through my own shit or I won't cope with the rest of life to come.

In any case, I'll be doing what I can to avoid harming any of you further... As often as you probably hear the line from others, or even myself, I'm going to try and avoid these feelings for a while... All they've brought is hurt so far, and all I see is hurt on the horizon. Someday there will be someone who might change this bleak outlook... Or maybe that someone ended up a victim already and is lost to the world.

Once more I bid thee goodnight. I throw down my glasses, wipe the sweat from my brow and remove the 'love' on my wrist that hides my pain and reminds me why I'm here... Hopefully this has helped someone out there... and hopefully me too...

I dunno if this post is really gonna accomplish anything, but I felt that I needed to contribute something. I'm seriously too tired to continue any of my stories as I'd planned to do, and even if I wasn't I lack the time to do it... (I start at 8:45 tomorrow morning at work, and require sleeps)

However I don't think I can blame only my lack of sleep for my tiredness. Quality of sleep has also been lacking. I forget the last time I had a reasonable dream, and woke up less sore than when I went to sleep. Nowadays I wake up having strained my back or arms, or just overall exhausted. I'm so tired.

Then there's the temperature, which is far too gross to relax in. Saunas are awesome, but being made to lie in a pool of your own sweat for no real reason is nobodies idea of a good time. Coupled with the sweat, creating the stink of summer, and the clinginess of clothing that ought to be baggy. I'm so tired.

Following the physical discomfort comes the intellectual. Worries over my next shift at work, whether they'll keep me stupid hours, or if I have the correct times. Worrying over the way my car feels different to drive since my trek to Caloundra, and when I'll be able to get it in for its overdue service. Worrying about my Uni results which I have no motivation to look up. All of these thoughts ever present in my mind... They make me so tired.

Emotional entanglements are the most exhausting though. Does a person like me? If so how much? Why is this friend upset? How can I help? Why am I so alone? Why are people so disagreeable? Why does nobody listen to reason? The aching heart is the most painful. I'm forced to hide my pain from sight with love. I'm so tired.

So how are you? Are you weighed down by the world? Your life? Your thoughts and your feelings? Are you tired too?

There's something about finishing work at 11:10pm, driving home, and deciding to continue driving instead of collapsing into a heap that is just strangely alluring. The black of night is comforting in its way, it doesn't judge, listen, speak... It just clothes you, wraps you within itself and holds you. So I drive, darkness all about me, licks of cold wind tearing through my hair and over my hands (which are barely able to type now they're so stiff). And I daren't use my highbeams because it will destroy the comfort of the dark, the feeling of being alone without troubles.

And so the first key song for the night is "What's It Feel Like To Be A Ghost?" by Taking Back Sunday. The song is easily reachable as it is my profile tune. somehow this reference to an ethereal being is comforting, given the state of night and cold. Adding to the blanket of night is the immense volume of the music in my car, predominantly bass. The air beating in around your body only furthers the image of being held in place by the darkness. The chorus of the song allows for a minor venting of emotions, a little bit of the annoyance and anger of the day precipitates from the yelled lyrics. And the softer bridge rouses more reflective feelings, with a bitter sadness stabbing at my heart... Probably my body wanting to reject the loneliness of my present state, by myself enjoying these sensations in the black.

As my thoguhts wander around this refusal to be alone, I realise that I was quite at home with my solitude until recently. A few weeks back I was at the point where I had come to terms with being on my own, and I was happy being there for others as they needed. But things changed, people changed, new people arrived, old people left. People I had forgot about resurfaced. And in the midst of the turmoil I caught a glimpse of what I did not have, and that glimpse has broken my armour again.

It is at about this point that we get another song change (or more accurately, I continue flipping through until I hit a song to match my mood and feelings), and this time it settles on "Climbatize" by The Prodigy. The song has always amazed me. It is quite unlike any other song on The Fat of the Land, but it is quite possibly my favourate Prodigy song, even if just for the way it suits my driving. Almost serene, but with a hard driving bassline. Again I begin to contemplate the enveloping darkness, drinking in the cold and no longer feeling the chill or the bitterness of it. Again thoughts wander, the main thought revolving around how I would like to describe this situation to others, which has thus led to where I am now.

By this point I'm halfway through my circuit through Bunya, and already I'm regretting the need to return home to write, to sleep. Regretting that my car doesn't have more fuel, and that I'll have to give up my loud music and blackened sky for a roof, warmth and silence. For a moment my resolve wavers and I almost decide to take my second driving path out towards Strathpine. But as quickly as the feeling arises, it disappears into the sea of black around me, to be overturned by yet more random passages of thought.

Something Liz said earlier today catches in my mind. Something about how I'm never angry, I'm always calm. But the inner turmoil of my emotions knows otherwise. Thoughts of an unwanted brother penetrate my dreams of late, and this makes me contemplate whether I have the stomach to hold a grudge. Whether or not I am truly able to hate without forgiving. Reflecting upon this, I am pretty sure that I would cave in time, that I would lack the strength needed to maintain the burning fury and hatred that generally invigorates me at his mention, and when I see parallels between him and others in my company. Others who I've tried to help but won't make a move on their own.

Somehow my realisation that I am probably too weak to hate upsets me. I feel abnormal to be unable to detest others the way I see people do daily. For any one action to drive people and things so far apart. I realise this after conversations with my friend Jodie over the past few days. I am ultimately able to forgive those who turn from their sins and help themselves. But it is impossible to help those who won't accept it, those who won't move themselves, and those so guilt ridden that deep down, they truly want themselves to suffer. And all of a sudden I realise why I have a dread fascination and love for Jigsaw.

Again a song change. "For Sure" by LostProphets. If I could walk 1000 miles a day I'd try, to do it cos I don't know if you'd really stay. I think I saw the sky tonight, push it through it feels alright. And I just don't know who I wanna be...

Again a release of pent up agression, frustration, and sorrow through vocalisation of lyrics, their volume and intesity.

At times I think that all I need is summer sun, burning in my eyes and breaking through the drapes. At times I feel my place is empty, it looks as though my place is empty. But my smile does only show one side of me...

I truly love the LostProphet's music sometimes. No matter what mood I'm in, I can always find a song to match it, and the lyrics somehow always reach straight into my heart and pull out my thoughts. "... only show one side of me..." I think over how I have been with people recently, and by recently I mean over the course of the year, and I realise that I could be the biggest hypocrite of them all at times. My views conflict on occaision, but rather than sort things out I just cruise along. I allow people around me to cause me distress because I don't want to make a fuss... I don't want to force my views on people or call them on their shit. A perfect example would be someone I know... who is a total chauvenist... being just that. And then applying that to me. Asking if I was getting it on with another friend because we'd been spending time together. AFTER that he went on to ask if we were seeing each other. I merely refuted both facts, and declared we were just friends. But in truth I should have hit him, verbally or physically, to make him understand how much of an affront it was. And then the rage slowly passes...

The final song comes in while I'm at home. It's 12:33am and I'm discussing options with my hair with Emma from uni. I missed mentioning the coming of the new day, but by now you probably hardly care. My final song is "Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking" by Snow Patrol. I think I could listen to this song forever. With entirely no pun intended, it sounds timeless to me. The way the rhythms and piano riffs loop just makes me think time is frozen. In slow motion the blast is beautiful. I can do most anything. Don't slam shut. Don't slam shut. I can do most anything. A clock is ticking, but it's far away. I can do most anything. Safe and sound. Safe and sound.

Again emotions just well up in me. I found this song whilst looking for Sylar fanvids, and it is by far the greatest. And I've restarted the song again. It's probably coming up on time for me to shut up, to let you go about your lives. I wish you all the very best. Remember that your troubles don't have to be your own, but you still have to carry the weight. Help just requires asking. <3's for hanging with me through this session. Hopefully something will change soon and turn my world to a lighter shade, and away from its constant murk. I look forward to seeing those who are free soon. So I retire now offering love and hugs to those who are deserving, you know who you are. Tears of emotional and physical exhaustion stream down my face and I heave myself off to another blackness... That of sleep... Perchance to dream...

Ok guys... This is how it works... Today I skip the story writing, I miss out the imaginative prose and instead go for something with a little more meaning. Now I don't intend for this to be a sermon, nor do I mean for this to single people out and cause anger or resentment, I am merely putting to paper (or screen) some thoughts that are floating around in my head.

In the recent past I have had many dealings with people and their problems. This is sort of to be expected due to me pursuing a career in Counselling, and will probably take up a large amount of my life from ehre on out, but there is something which seems to lie at the very basis of problems for everyone. Understanding.

Too often we assume that the way we think of things is the right way, or that everyone else will take our words as we mean them and not as they sound at the time. Too often we make assumptions about others before knowing them, or the ideas and thoughts that drive them. But who makes the attempt to remedy this? Nobody. We are all guilty of standing on the fence by not asking about or not giving the information that is required to understand each other... Our thoughts, our emotions, our dreams, our needs...

I've just finished watching American History X with Paul, and it's 12:42am... Some of you may take this to mean that I'm rambling, where others might take it that I've had some epiphany about life... Both are true to an extent, but I hope that you listen nonetheless. The aforementioned movie follows the actions and history of a family involved with white supremacy, and deals with the way people are quick to cast blame for their troubles and inadequacies, clouded by pain and anger... And that we need to understand that we are all human beings with the same needs, wants and emotions and in doing so learn to treat each other with the respect and care we deserve.

So everyone, take the time out to talk to the people you are having troubles with, share your side of the story as you see it, and answer the questions that others have for you. Do not be afraid to answer. Only through understanding each other are we going to move together as a group of people, as friends. Too many unspoken thoughts and angers and hopes will only bog us down and keep us from being who we truly want to be.

Now do something about it dammit! There are those amoungst you who have already copped an understanding session from me, needing to clear the air, or forcing me to... And to be honest, I'm thankful for it. <3's everyone, I'll be here for you all should you need.

A tall man clad in black and ochre robes exited a building in the crisp morning air, exhaling small clouds of steam. There was now light in the sky, and the conjured mist had dispersed, so the town gave off a less malicious ambience. Already the sounds of people filled the air, a baker nearby yelling at an apprentice for being late, guards being scolded for having fallen asleep at their posts. A sly smile spread across Aethilfirth's face. He was the source of their slight misfortunes, but they would never know it, and he would never confess to it.

Aethilfirth raised the hood of his dark robe, returning his face to shadows, and proceeded down the main thoroughfare towards the edge of town closest to the forest. Faces of commoners twisted in his direction as he approached, but with a slight manipulation of his fingers he summoned enough power to disregard their curiosities. Such suggestion in the minds of those lacking considerable will power was easy, not requiring the same level of power or pronounced ritual as the magic he had invoked the night before. So the stranger walked unmolested through the streets of the small town.

Within a scant few minutes Aethilfirth had come in sight of the gate, and his fears lessened somewhat. Though there was very little chance anyone in such a remote town could rival his power, there was always the tiniest possibility of encountering a gifted natural, someone possessed of power and able to channel it without any proper training. Even this did not overly concern him, but the stories and rumours generated by a wizard's appearance, let alone a battle, would draw far too much attention. He was a stranger for a reason.

Magicians across the realm were relatively few in number, not because there was a lack of talent or power amongst the populace, but because few could pass the rigorous tests and trials to be accepted into the ranks of the learned. In fact, rumours circulated among the commoners that the magicians were creatures, somewhat akin to vampires or ghouls, and required fresh meat human to sustain them. Of course, there were in fact a few creatures possessed of magic that preyed on the living, eating and dismembering any the happened across, but they were not schooled magicians, they were naturals who had transformed. The manner of transformation was of course entirely varied, some resulting from attacks by pre-existing magical creatures, others through the success, or failure, of a particularly difficult spell. The Guild of Magicians had all such creatures catalogued and kept under surveillance. Even the might of the Guild could be threatened by enough magical beasts and transformed naturals.

In addition to surveilling the creatures of the realms, they also enforced restrictions of magic use. Namely attempting to prevent naturals experimenting with their gifts outside of Guild controlled schools. As such all large cities contained a wizard bastion, a slender tower crewed by as many as five registered wizards and ensorcelled with a plethora of runes for detecting magic. From this vantage the wizards could bring their fury down upon any foolish enough to risk a conjuring. On the whole, this plan worked however in recent times those gifted with a reasonable control and a fear of the Guild schooling simply fled the cities and practiced their newfound powers in secluded towns or wilderness regions.

Aethilfirth quickened his pace, needing to lift the stench of people from his nostrils, longing to again be among the trees. As he approached within a stones throw of the gate, it began to close. At the rate the guards moved, they would finish sealing the gate before he had covered half the distance. Fear of exposure now drove his actions, raising a hand he summoned power enough to hold the portal open and to once more divert suspicion away from himself. As his fingers finished carving the ethereal runes of power, they dissipated. The stranger quickly scanned the crowd, looking for the purple robes of the Guild, but finding nothing.

A tall, slender woman stepped out from the crowd. She was beautiful. Long honey coloured hair cascaded over an ornate breast plate, she must have been one of the senior defenders of this place. Before Aethilfirth could question how she had recognised his power, she answered by drawing two purple runes in the air with hands. As she finished the runes chains sprouted from the ground, binding Aethilfirth in place. A natural.

"What business have you, Magician?" She spat the last word at him, as though it tasted of bile. Without waiting for an answer she readied another symbol in midair, red this time. "I have no patience for Guild scum; I have no intention of abandoning my people."

Aethilfirth let out a grating laugh, harsh enough to stun the woman threatening him. She retreated a step, but maintained focus on the spell she had readied. The crowd had all but scattered after the woman's show of power, leaving the two magic users in an empty street. "You are either blind or an idiot. Do you see the purple of the Guild anywhere about my person? You stupid wench!"

Without pausing to let the woman cry more accusations, Aethilfirth stepped through the chains. The female guard's mouth dropped as he simply disregarded her bindings and at once let fly her next spell. Fire blossomed from the red runes, launching through the empty street and utterly enveloping the stranger. Sweat beaded down her forehead, but she maintained the conflagration for several long seconds. At last, utterly spent, she dropped to one knee.

"Do you honestly believe that would be enough to topple a true Magician?" The woman threw her gaze up to the black mass in front of her, smoke still billowed from it. The smell of burned flesh reached her nostrils, she was certain her spell had annihilated the man. Then the black mass took shape once more. The charred surface broke into four limbs, a body and a head. It raised itself on what appeared to be legs, the black slowly transforming to red. Aethilfirth's skin was reknitting itself at impossible speed, reforming his body from the blackened remains that had lain on the ground moments before.

"You truly were the latter," He exclaimed.

"W-w-what do you mean?" Horror gripped the woman's face, and yet somewhere she found the force of will to bring words out.

"You are an idiot."

Silver returned to Aethilfirth's eyes. Without any gesture or verbalisation he summoned power to himself, unleashing a beam of harsh fluorescence which arched straight through the woman's body. Blood gushed from the wound in her abdomen and she clasped hands to her stomach to prevent anything more than blood escaping. The woman fell over onto her side, gazing up into the sky.

The stranger trudged over to the body lying prostrated before him, and gazed down into her face as life left her. Tears clouded her eyes and her mouth gaped, unable to cry out the pain inside her. Slowly he knelt down and reached for her wound, cupping his hands and scooping up her lifeblood. Raising his hands to his mouth he drank their contents, letting crimson stain his face. When he stood once more his hands carved purple light into the air before him, conjuring his armour and clothes about his body, as though no damage had ever been dealt to him. After retrieving his sword and securing it to his back, he blasted the town gate from its hinges with another blast of eldritch energy, and continued out into the forest once more.

Villagers and guards poured back into the street to examine the woman's body, and render what aid they could. By the time their physicians reached her, she was gone. Now hushed rumours of vampires and the Guild spread around the town. Fear permeated every corner of every rumour. What act of reprisal would the Guild enact for harbouring a natural?

Aethilfirth collapsed to the ground in the forest clearing he had used the previous night, pain and revulsion overwhelming him. Retching up the blood he had swallowed, he thanked the gods it had not been a Guildsman in the town. It was deplorable that he had killed the village's magic protector, but she had attacked him, and he could not allow any information about him to reach the Guild. The villagers had witnessed what had transpired, but they saw a vampire not the mysterious, silver-eyed stranger, and that would be sufficient enough to cover his tracks. Next time he would have to further refine his runes when examining a town for magical power, although he attributed his failure to the sheer volume of power his new benefactor possessed. After emptying his stomach onto the grass he set up camp on the opposite side of the clearing and began preparing some food. His new task would be long, and he need not leave hurriedly and make more mistakes the day.

The night air was heavy with rain and smoke. There was little breeze in the valley, but the smell of wood fire had travelled the mile or so from the town to the forest clearing, and to the young man's nose. He was waiting in the dark, illuminated only by moonlight when the clouds permitted. Seen by no one.

The man's hand rose backwards over his shoulder, securing the grip of his sword. Had there been more light, and an observer to see, one might have seen his expression change. This foreign land had not done much for the man's mood over the past few weeks; in fact he had not felt comfortable since he had set off on his quest so long ago, but the feel of his sword's grooved handle settled his nerves.

The smell of burning wood brought forward memories of childhood, of bonfires and families, taverns and their wenches, battles and their aftermath. He disregarded such ideas in an instant, knowing that any such memory may dull his awareness, distract him from his current purpose. The stranger to the land moved slowly towards the centre of the clearing as the clouds parted and swathed the scenery with the light of stars and moon. Slowly the man raised his arms horizontal with his shoulders, and his head fell back, discarding the heavy hood and freeing his shoulder length hair.

The soft mist of the rain began to soak his hair, slicking it back against his skull and slowly dibbling down his neck beneath his warm cloak. In any other situation he might have shivered, discomforted by the chill of the water against his flesh, but his mind was focussed, and years of training prevented him from acknowledging such a disturbance. Without signal or warning the man began to chant. Alien words issued from his mouth at a whispers volume. Words of hidden meaning. Words of power. Once again the moonlight was swept aside by the rolling clouds, but this time the clearing did not darken.

Light seemed to issue forth from the man's hands, as though he held candles between his fingers. It was not enough light to travel by, nor enough to read, but in the blackness created by the clouds it was enough to cast a glow across the man and his surroundings. As the chant grew in intensity, so did the light. Rather than candlelight it now cast shadows with the brilliance of a burning torch, and now it held colour. Azure light clashed with the greens and browns of the surrounding forest, turning the scenery into something one might have observed under the surface of the water in a lake somewhere. And still its brilliance and hue intensified.

Unbewildered by the display of power, the man ceased his chant, but the light remained. He moved his hands together now, closing them together and then drawing them out again. He began to mould the light as though it was substantial, like a mud or clay, but entirely unaffected by anything other than his hands. Slowly the light took shape and began to resemble the symbol the man intended to use. Two diagonally sloping lines, linked intermittently, doubling back and sloping off to one side near the bottom.

The man looked over his work for a time after his hands had ceased their craft. A smile twisted the corners of his mouth, and he breathed a long breath into the azure rune suspended before him. Like a puff of smoke the rune scattered to the wind, trailing off into the trees and sky. The throb of power surrounding the man had vanished, all except for a silver-blue colour that now replaced his eyes normal hue.

The light the man had created had transformed into smoke at first, travelling down the valley towards the town. As it winded around trees and over rocks it thickened, creating a blue mist, a magic fog. Creeping faster than any normal precipitation ever could manage, the fog entered the town's periphery, snuffing out the torches that lit the streets and guard towers. Normally there would have been commotion at such an event, but the guards who would have sounded the alarm were asleep at their posts, another effect the conjured fog had produced. Within a few short minutes, all light within the streets and buildings was gone; all that remained was the dull luminescence of the magical mist.

The stranger's steps were laboured as he finally set foot on the stonework of the town's streets. The pungent aroma of burned wood was now overpowered by that of urine, ale and vomit. The man's features curled in disgust, but he made no move to cover his displeasure or to cast it from his presence. He simply continued in search of his target.

The number 18 was fashioned in brass, which clashed somewhat with the green paint that smothered the wood of the door. It's only other furnishing was a large, unadorned brass knob, which was tiny compared to the strangers clasped fist. He turned the knob effortlessly, the door creaking and shuddering it's displeasure at being opened on so cold a night. Heat fled from the room as the man gusted in accompanied by spits of rain and wisps of fog. Creaking wood and dripping water echoed around the house, as he began his ascent of the stairs, adding to the chorus with his heavy boots and the metal of his belts and weapons.

Forcing a bedroom door slightly, the stranger strode into the only light still prevailing in the town. Light cascaded over his face, smoothing his features, as he beheld the woman in the bed. The luminescence was not caused by fire or candle, but instead was cast like an aura from her skin, beauty given radiance. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she raised her eyes to examine the stranger. Blinking she wiped the face clear, but her eyes still held too much moisture to see clearly. The man reached out his arm and took one of her small hands into his, attempting to project as much care and warmth as he could into the gesture. She smiled, still unable to discern his features but no longer needing to.

"Your presence here warms my heart, Aethilfirth. You have wandered far, and traversed many lands to reach me."

"It is my honour, lady. Duty renders meaning to service, and thus I ask you to accept me. My powers are yours to command in whatever way can lighten your woes and diminish your fears." At this the ladies' smile diminished, and more tears fell from her eyes.

"I am sorry then, my friend, to bind you into service as a master would a slave."

"You misinterpret, m'lady. You do not bind me in any way; you merely guide my actions as friend, counsel and leader. You have not the heart to keep, nor suffer the keeping, of slaves." Again her smile returned.

"Then sit a while and I shall empty my woes upon you, and you may decide if you are still ready to take up such a burden."