Intro

-:{(Introduction)}:-
It's Time
"100 years and no time has past..."

___"I've got my Torest, and, um..." a young boy mumbled to himself.
___Standing beside his bed, his hand hovered tentatively above a handwritten page. He’d meant to place it in his bag, but somehow distracted himself with his own thoughts. Staring blankly at his threadbare sheets, he was struggling to remember what he was forgetting. He was straining, not only to hear the distant answer echoing in the back of his head, but contemplating the irony of knowing he’d forgotten something. Fortunately, only a small moment of his life was wasted before he snapped back to reality, gently placing the crumbling parchment in his satchel. Two small steps and he was on the other side of his room, eyes roaming his makeshift shelf one last time.
___"A little extra luck couldn't hurt," the child reasoned, furry white hand darting to retrieve a small translucent blue stone. It was most certainly useless, but shiny, so it couldn’t just be left behind. Temporary lapses in judgment aside, he is remarkable and should be having trained for an eternity- by his standards at least -on the edge of reality.
___"Where's my spell book?" he complained, anxiety creeping into his voice. "How can I protect someone without my book?"
___It been left under his bed, easily visible, but apparently hidden quite well to anyone searching for it. The slim tattered volume was a weapon all its own, a proud record of everything he’d ever learned penned by his own hands. As such he’d already memorized most of it, over a hundred incantations etched in his mind and a select few especially entertaining ones easier said in reverse than forward. Needless to say having it with him wasn’t a dire need, and probably put him in some small amount of danger, but it was a safety blanket if nothing else. The comfort was worth the risk.
___Is this, really it? The thought repeatedly scrolled through the boy’s mind. It couldn’t just be over.
___Giving the room a final sweep he took in the crude clay cave with a sense of peace. Learning to call it home had taken a lifetime, but that’s what it was. How would he handle his world shifting again? He couldn’t even be sure anyone would take him seriously? Then there where the mandates…
___Standing inside the child‘s door, Bastien watched his single student, seemingly dreaming as he often did. "Nephilim. It's time to go." his gruff voice barked. "You‘ll just have to rely on the little you did learn."
___The boy couldn‘t help but jump, inwardly cursing himself for being caught like this and by him no less. Spinning around, his exotic eyes met the Herculean frame of Sir Bastien. Slightly over six feet tall, strong as an ox, with cobalt eyes that easily pierced your soul, the aged warrior was a sight to behold. Even after all this time though, the Nite still had to stifle a grimace at the child’s sight. His appearance wasn’t repulsive, being quite the opposite in fact, but his eyes were unnerving; entirely a single shade of smooth buttery innocence that dominated his face.
___"Please, remember to pay attention to your surroundings…" Bastien scolded, mockingly shaking his head. Repeating the simple instruction was far easier than forming a farewell. "I can only hope that when you actually need my training you‘ll recall it to mind."
___Nephilim weakly smiled, not nearly confident enough to find the jest funny. He merely turned back around to continue gathering his things, knowing full well his face portrayed far more than he wanted Bastien to know. A subtle sadness always seemed to taint the child’s expression, no matter how he felt, and his current state of mind did nothing to help.
___"Could, you tell Ladies Aloedy and Ward, goodbye, for me," Nephilim’s soft childish voice requested, wavering with emotion. He didn’t see it, nor need to as Bastien nodded his consent before quietly leaving. There was no reason to prolong the awkward moment. Nephilim walked through his door shortly after, and as usual Bastien was nowhere to be found. He’d always had an annoying habit of disappearing.
___Looking back inside his room, it almost seemed foreign. His real home was enormous in comparison. How he’d managed to survive in the small dimly lit space was amazing? The training was all that mattered though. This was his chance to prove his worth and he’d die trying before he failed the Great Guardian.
___With an air of finality, Nephilim turned away from his room, pale silk whiskers twitching in the new air. The moisture in the atmosphere had an annoying weight to it. In view of the silver sky it made sense, rain obviously in the offing. Gloomy as it was, it did nothing to mar the beauty surrounding him. Nevia was a perpetual dream. It consisted of two separate land masses, the first of which being dominant, a small crescent moon shaped continent, which surrounded the second smaller interior island. Nephilim's school, Stasis, consisted of three buildings; all constructed differently at three cardinal directions from a central lake. Rolling grasslands of tall cerise and carmine tinted grasses, dotted by the occasional perpetually flowering weeping willow and patches of golden reeds were the scenery to which the institute rested. A feeling of isolation and secrecy pervaded everything, probably due to the seemingly endless distance of the horizon.
___Nephilim was going to circle the lake one last time and sauntering toward Bastien’s Dojo the trek began. Following the beaten path made all on his own it didn’t take long to arrive. The energetic building almost seemed to watch him as he neared too, smiling if it were possible. He plodded though its off white gravel courtyard, reminiscing about his eternally sore hands and paws, the million bruises and occasional sprains. Everything was nearly a dream now.
___It could have been the nostalgia, but his body grew tense. It made him smile, feeling his very being react to the chaotic presence of the place, arms stretching, shoulders moving back, rising up on his toes as his stomach tightened. He literally had to stop and wind down, force his composure as his ears picked out something? Somehow, amidst all the natural sounds, he keyed into the most insignificant and meaningless flutter imaginable, a strange warning memory both distant and familiar awakening within him. It could’ve been a blade of grass rubbing against a rock for all he knew, perhaps a butterfly sneezing, but it made him nervous regardless. Just maybe his body had geared up for a reason…?
___Despite his training, he physically looked around first finding nothing as he half expected and only then reached out with every other sense he had. There was really nothing ‘dangerous’ either way.
___Get a grip kid, he told himself, forcing a calm breath. Time to move on.
___Nephilim’s silver whiskers twitched once again before he pivoted, the long silky hairs waving in the small wind he created. The only thing keeping him from immediately leaving was the sudden irksome itch on the right side of his face, this subtle pull on his whiskers as a small gust of air brushed against his face. It was… unlikely and so without any real reason he reacted.
___Most never take the time to realize it, but the body rarely ever moves just one limb. Almost every motion is balanced, maintaining the comfortable state of equilibrium the mind depends on. An arm swings backward when you step forward and if you try to keep it from moving you simply walk differently to maintain the balance another way. For one moment though, Nephilim fought the urge. He swung his entire upper body backward without a single steadying motion, and it saved him. In less than the span of second the boy realized and rationalized the tan blur careening across his face, zeroing in on the familiar details, knowing without doubt it was Bastien’s calloused fist.
___GEEZ, Nephilim screamed inside his head, face abruptly contorted in shocked disbelief. My last day and he’s STILL trying to kill me, he exaggerated, quickly falling into his taught mindset. Bastien wont just stop here…
___Thrusting out his arms he caught himself, planting two solid hands on the ground and forming a visually painful bridge. His back was almost bent at a thirty degree angle, but luckily he was quite flexible. It didn’t hurt in the slightest and so with a little extra exertion he let his diminutive claws slide from within his fingers and effortlessly burrow themselves into the ground. It was time to go on the offensive.
___Bastien watched it all, taking in his prized student’s every motion even while his punch was still in mid travel, vaguely smiling as always. If he stayed any longer he might realize he’s faster than me, he thought, readying himself for the kicks obviously about to start. He could read it in the acute tension of the boy’s calves and sure enough, Nephilim launched his lower body into the air balancing inverted as he began a novice assault. It was all easily avoided, Bastien bending his extended arm at the elbow and rotating his forearm to deflect the first few erratic blows. By the third kick the boy roughly had the hang of it and quickly lashed out with a more refined fury, actually forcing his mentor to stumble back a bit and employ both arms defensively. At nearly half Bastien’s size this was an awkward positioning at best, but all he really needed was time. The longer he balanced the easier it became and the more he was able to focus on his barrage, gradually picking up the pace and varying his kicks. Bastien had seem him do this numerous times before though and the answer was always the same.
___Change the dynamic, Bastien told himself, raising a nimble foot to sweep Nephilim off balance.
___Heavily involved now, their focus locked as they read one another, interpreting each blow and block before they connected, both afraid to look away and give the other an advantage. It kept Bastien from peering down and effectively aiming his lower strike but Nephilim would have a harder time predicting it as well. A fair trade.
___In the time it took his burly leg to cover the small distance between them Bastien blocked two of the child’s swifter kicks, watching his pupil suddenly wobble with a surge of satisfaction. It was a split second later he realized he never felt his foot make contact, and just as the insight hit him he felt his foot being tossed aside by one of Nephilim’s small hands.
___The boy actually managed to dodge him by balancing momentarily on one hand and had already fallen right back into the swing of things. Obviously getting him to topple would require a tad more effort and it suited Bastien just fine. Without missing a beat the aged warrior fell back and began a series of low leg sweeps that changed his style entirely. Dropping his entire body to the ground, he spun around the boy in an interesting attempt to break his rhythm from every possible angle. Luck had been on Nephilim’s side the first time, but he quickly rose to the challenge, hectically switching from one hand to the other, kicking whenever the opportunity arose and somehow maintaining his balance all the while. It became apparent though that remaining on his hands wasn’t going to get him anywhere so the youth likewise altered styles, switching between both his hands and paws to support himself, lashing out with whichever limb wasn’t tied up supporting his weight. Had there been any onlookers the display of flexibility and cunning would have been astounding, watching the two seemingly dance around, over and under one another.
___It actually made Sir Bastien somewhat proud to see his only student compensating so quickly. Still, even with all the boy’s craftiness, his years of experience gave him an almost endless repertoire of diversions to call upon. The one he chose next, a personal favorite of his, seemed to slow him down forcing Nephilim to raise innocently questioning eyes as Bastien’s final kick stopped mid swing directly beneath him. Before the child could grasp the significance of this, Bastien stood, raising his extended leg and the boy with him.
___"Hey," Nephilim screamed, struggling to hold on as Bastien hefted him. Then, with an eerie display of flexibility, Bastien kicked upward until his hovering foot actually reached above his head, haplessly flinging Nephilim above him.
___Fortunately, the child managed a fairly decent footing before being catapulted, dismounting almost gracefully... Attempting to jump away from his mentor’s leg, he ended up sending himself soaring even higher into the air and spinning wildly at that. It would have been impossible for any normal person to get their bearings but luckily his eyesight was many times more keen than any human. By the height of his travel he’d already gauged his momentum, twisting his body in all the ways his mind estimated would land him on his feet. The boy’s intuition paid off too and he came down in a somewhat stable belly flop maneuver. Arms outstretched, eyes focused, and fur billowing he prepared to hit the ground, quickly scanning for Bastien who had apparently disappeared again. This fight wasn’t over though. Not by a long shot.
___As crazy as it sounded, Bastien made a habit of tossing Nephilim skyward, diverting his attention with the seemingly cruel tact once every few years. He’d wait just long enough to catch him completely off guard, like now for instance, but Nephilim was clever enough to protect himself, even if he couldn’t predict when it would happen.
___Calling upon his grueling sessions with Lady Aloedy, he closed his eyes having maybe a full second to fall into the right mindset. After all the time he’d spent under her tutelage he should have lived in a half meditative state, but even without that he easily slid to perfect calm, losing the physical world around him and finding it again spiritually all at once. What once was air, light, soil, and life was now only varying strands of energy, pure and resplendent, filtered by his awareness to something tamable. Almost without trying he singled out and bent the appropriate strands to his needs, tightly coiling them together before him in a hasty mess. Wind, sunlight and even a bit of his own strength leapt from their inanimate meanderings to his aid, congealing before him in a subtle shimmering cloud, compressing in upon itself underneath him and slowing his decent. When he finally opened his eyes he could barely move, lodged in the suffocating pillow of his power, literal inches separating him from the ground he should have crashed into. For a moment he watched the dust swirl beneath him, storming around two ants laboriously dragging something far bigger than themselves back to wherever it was ants went.
___Hey, I did pretty good this time, he realized, recalling how normally he landed with a lessened thud rather than avoiding impact all together. It certainly felt a lot better coming down this way; well, until Bastien kicked him.
___How Bastien always managed to just appear near him would always be a mystery. What wasn’t a mystery was his incredible strength. The force from his kick easily sent the boy flying across the ground, skidding to halt over twenty feet away in a pathetic jumble of limbs. It was the first blow between either of them that honestly connected.
___"…ugh," Nephilim moaned, weakly holding his stomach. As for injuries he’d definitely survived worse.
___Still it hurt, and that meant turning his best scowling pout toward Bastien. The towering gladiator had completely vanished once more though. That weird ‘butterfly-dying-on-a-rock’ sound hovered in the boy’s ears but the gnawing tremors in his midsection kept him from connecting it to Bastien like he should.
___"I hate it when you do that!" he screamed aggravated, sprawling out on the ground only to find the relative giant squatting behind him.
___"You really don’t have to yell," he mocked, cobalt eyes laughing as Nephilim jumped.
___"Ya know, if you fought fair I‘d probably win…" Nephilim whined, more correct than even he believed.
___"There’s nothing fair about combat, not when your life is at stake. Not when you‘re trying to protect someone…" Bastien quickly answered, his words colder than Nephilim was accustomed.
___As the boy’s mentor finished speaking his eyes seemed empty, like they were staring back within himself. Nephilim in all his innocence tried to understand this, but eventually merely felt like he was intruding. Unsettled, the boy averted his inquisitive gaze, actually afraid of the secrets waiting behind those cobalt depths. Maybe one day if he ever came back he’d finally ask the necessary questions, but for now they both just stared off into the hypnotic reddish fields before them. Bastien had a point though. If Nephilim couldn‘t protect himself after this… he’d die.
___"Thank you, Bastien… for everything," the child whispered, this time just assuming Bastien was gone and correctly so. It seemed fitting somehow, and thus sprawled on the ground with a dull ache rolling through his body he weakly smiled staring up into the sky. It was a poignant expression, the physical evidence that he knew this was probably his last encounter with Bastien.
___I think, I’m ready for this…
___He couldn’t quite tell where the sudden resolve came from, maybe a side effect of battle, but it was there and he used it to stand, to brush himself off and continue.
___A nameless emotion was stuck in Bastien’d chest as he watched Nephilim leave. You’re welcome kid. You’re always welcome… His lips curled in a small smirk. I wonder if I’ll miss him?
___A building with no books, ironically called the ‘Library’ was the boy’s next stop. Lady Ward presided there and her extraordinary memory made her a living record of virtually all manuscripts written in and before her time. The ones that pertained to history anyway. Nephilim drifted back to all of his studies, the endless ancient languages and history lessons. A feeling of boredom clouded them all. He giggled at that as the giant Willow behind the small building came into sight. Balancing books and notes in his lap as his long fluffy tail billowed in the wind used to be a normal occurrence in that trees boughs. Even with his great intellect and feverish studying, he could never satisfy Lady Ward's high expectations. He felt defeated even now, letting a heavy sigh fill the air as he left the area behind for the Temple of Clarity, dwelling of Great Lady Aloedy. The first Nite to access to Nevia, she commanded a respect like no other. Nephilim thought it amazing she could be so humble with all she had to boast.
___A small breeze rustled his silky black fur as the last site appeared in the distance. The towering building was marbled shades of black and gray and looked almost evil; a little House of Usher. The only redeeming quality it had were its beautiful stained glass windows; all enormous with depictions of fanciful mythical beast and forgotten heroes locked in battle. The remarkable exterior gave no hint to what lay within though. Lady Aloedy, deceptively old and frail, had pushed harder than any other instructor he had. She made certain he knew every facet of Nexus energy and its uses. Nose bleeds and splitting headaches meant you were doing things right when it came to her. Not to say she was cruel. The demanding Lady was by far his kindness teacher, almost motherly in spite of her lessons. That seeming paradox occupied his mind as he walked past her home intent on finding the Oreaja Gate.
___After another more extensive trek a familiar chalky gray stone bridge greeted him. It linked the mainland with its diminutive sister island. On this unassuming mound of soil the Oreaja Gate rested, the doorway to a home he barely remembered. Slowly crossing the bridge, he paused momentarily, peering at the gate's two guardians. They were tall and imposing but merely statues all the same, built at the end of the bridge on its left and right sides. One was an old man holding an hourglass, while the other was a female warrior dressed in full armor, wielding an elegant sword and shield. They held some kind of symbolic meaning but Nephilim could never recall what it was.
___The gate, which was actually nothing like a door, patiently waited. It was a small circular pond in the center of the island; a pool of white, continually warm water, which welcomed any into its depths. Nephilim stood, trapped in the gaze of the gate’s guardians, looking down into the strange doorway with no reflection to greet him.
___"Neph' wait," Ward yelled as she ran toward him over the old bridge.
___Nephilim's cute pointy white ears stood erect and he turned to see her coming, surprised she of all people would say goodbye. She was undeniably beautiful, a rose in a dessert, but her thorns where as sharp as her colors were brilliant. Unlike his other teachers, he had never fully understood how to deal with her, always being trampled by her expectations. He had given up a long time ago on any chance of her accepting him.
___Her eyes were caught by the crescent moon of white fur on his chest as she approached. It was innocently displayed from inside his open midriff length vest, his unofficial symbol. Something about the perfect moon always intrigued her. She promptly averted her attention as normal though continuing to hurry over with her trademark expression, a fusion of indifference and agitation.
___"You always could block me out," she grumbled, beginning with her normal unfounded complaint, "Here, take this, it will help you find your Elements." Seemingly angry or maybe even nervous she continued, "I seriously doubt it will be enough, but it‘s better than nothing. I assume you'll figure out how it works, but I always did give you more credit than you deserved." She dropped the gift in his hand and stalked off without another word.
___All of this was said avoiding his eyes. It was how all their conversations went; Nephilim staring intently up at her face while she held her gaze haughtily above him, eyes diverted to the right.
___"I almost expected something different," Nephilim sighed.
___He smiled halfheartedly, with only the smallest trace of bitterness as he peeked down at the trinket in his hand. It was a clear ball and a silver string with a small triangle on it. Obviously a necklace even if broken, he slipped the silver loop of string around his neck. Surprisingly, the clear orb followed the string and rested on his chest floating beneath the triangle. The sphere rested in the protection of his crescent moon framed by the soft white fur and the chain disappeared completely. Nephilim had seen so many unearthly spectacles during his stay in Nevia that by now the necklace was easily dismissed.
___"Well, it’s time," he whispered, taking his first timid step into the lake.
___The warm water circled around his small white paws barely coming up to his ankles. He carefully walked out into the middle of the pond and was surprised, justifiably, that it didn't much deeper. It had been so long since he’d come through the gate he’d forgotten the mystical specifics of its operation. It wasn't until he looked down that he realized his slow sinking. The water gradually climbed up to his knees and then his waist. With his satchel full of supplies he couldn't move that well in the first place, but the water held his legs like a vice taking any movement once had away. He barely managed to balance himself with his tail until that was sucked into the white void as well.
___Somehow, the water exerted no pressure on his body, but nothing he did seemed to slow his decent. Its warm soothing grip was relentless forcing him to watch himself sink, his fur drifting carelessly in the ripples his struggles created. The liquid flowed over his stomach and up to his chest; its hunger increasing the more it devoured. It was no time, before he found his nose being conquered by the invading fluid, fear molding his face. The water surged up and over his head, his eyes pleading for help he knew couldn‘t be called. How had he forgotten…this?
___Struggle as he did, he wasn't going anywhere. To make matters worse he had to hold his breath adding suffocation to his perilous voyage. Barely a minute passed before his lungs were desperately pleading for air, his training already long forgotten. Strength waning and resolve fading he had no choice but to breathe. Reluctantly, the boy opened his mouth, forcing a mouth-full of the mystical water down his throat. He didn't know what to expect for a certainty but he knew it couldn't be good. To his surprise, it didn't taste bad; vanilla tainted pear juice but extremely bland and slid down his throat and into his lungs like thick syrup. Seeming almost to disappear as it went down, it was only mildly uncomfortable. The body convulsing sputtering he had expected never happened, only the urge to exhale. He could actually breathe the concoction. Deeper breaths than normal were required but it wasn’t difficult. Finally able to breathe, he stopped tensing his muscles letting a refreshing calm sweep over his body. No longer in death's grasp he actually began to enjoy the liquid warmth cradling his body. He wanted to laugh at himself; to revel in this victory, but it was becoming harder and harder to remember why he was so happy. With the miniscule awareness he had remaining, he deduced his calm was only the numinous water lulling him to sleep. Mystically inebriated, Nephilim felt his arms getting heavy, his eyelids heavier, and everything slowly melting away. Unconsciously curling into a ball he fell asleep, his worries forgotten as he slipped through time. This is how he would go home: sleeping in a warm white haze waiting to awake from his dreams.

*_____*_____ *

___Side-by-side, Lady Ward and Sir Bastien followed behind Lady Aloedy, both thinking of what was to come. Aloedy was the only one truly confident in her stride, her graceful saunter hiding the immense power her small form hid. A counsel with the child’s father was in the offing.
___"I don't think he can do it." Ward blurted, thinking aloud more than seeking a response.
___With a questioning glance in her direction Bastien sighed, "Neph’ is more than ready and you know it! He‘s armed with the best all of us had to offer… How can you still doubt him?"
___His words, though encouraging, seemed to contradict the tone he was using. It was clear he shared her doubt on at least some small level.
___"Whether or not he can handle his assignment will be shown in time. His potential is obvious, but it's up to him to unlock it. I feel no reason to fear and neither should you. We trained him well." Lady Aloedy contributed with her normal share of wisdom. She looked forward the entire time she spoke not wanting to give their childishness anymore attention than it deserved. "If you must have concerns, it should be the Elements. How they respond to him is utterly impossible to predict."
___"I guess you would know best," Bastien conceded, turning to glower at Lady Ward. "Even if our methods were extremely different, we did the best we knew how..."
___"With Neph’s training being such a personal matter to you in particular, I find it peculiar you would put all our lessons on the same level?" Ward cautiously stated, ignoring Bastien’s obvious contempt for her teaching methods. She knew her awkward compliment was just as much a curse to the illustrious Nite before her.
___Aloedy simply let the cold shudder pass through her body, fully aware it was part of her penance. No response was necessary, and so a short silence ensued, Bastien mystified by Ward‘s audacity.
___"I still don't think he can do it," Ward declared defiantly, staring down into the white depths of the Oreaja Gate. She wasn’t one to let moments simply drift by. Plus, her bitterness wasn’t exactly sated by Aloedy’s lack of response. Bastien could only shake his head. There was no reason to argue with her. Her pessimism was far too common and need for conflict the same.
___"No matter, we've each done our part. It's time for us to report to the Guardian. We'll then simply wait until the next time we're needed," Lady Aloedy concluded.
___"An eternity of waiting," Sir Bastien muttered. "It's like being in prison."
___"We've worked so hard and don't even get to see how it turns out." Ward complained with similar regret as she stepped into the pool with the other Masters.
___"You've been given the grandest privilege possible for a mortal and still you find reason for complaint. How exactly do you both manage such feats?" Lady Aloedy rebuked them, resuming her role as leader. "Let us make haste. The Supreme Guardian is waiting."
___ Before they followed her into the center of the pool, Bastien and Ward peeked at each other, sharing the shame of Aloedy’s reproach. She was already halfway descended with her back to them as normal. Remaining silent, they too fell in the warm white water that had swallowed their sole student earlier. Lady Aloedy was of course the first to vanish beneath the lake giving no second thought to her companions. Next, Sir Bastien descended, leaving only Ward and her defiant expression.
___Oddly, the last words uttered from the three masters never reached a single ear. Before Ward completely disappeared into the white waters, she angled her head upward and softly spoke.
___"Goodbye, Neph."
___Immense love was entwined in her few words. She cared for Nephilim more than he or anyone else would ever know.