Section Author: 'Yui-chan'

The castle was a looming behemoth, crouched in a half-crumbling pile on the mountaintop, its stones made black by the torrential rain. Shattered gargoyles lay strewn about the remains of its courtyard like demon corpses, and its ragged battlements leaned as if too old and tired to maintain their struggle to reach the conflicted stormclouds above. Only the brave walls of the keep stood against the violent wind and angry lightning, and it earned them a sound cursing.

Aegon scowled into the wind as he leapt from his steed's back and shooed the animal off into the night. He could sense her presence all the stronger, now, like seeing a dim light in a shadow realm, but more, he could feel the fear and pain lacing that presence as well as the unmistakable taint of sorcery. The mage's heart lurched at the thought of his lady enspelled, but he diverted the worry into rage at the creature that had her. He promised his hungry blades a taste of the villain who had taken Yui-chan.

Only a heartbeat after he arrived, Aegon's gaze, as angry and dark as the weather, had found the rotting wooden door of the keep. He sprinted across the rubble-strewn courtyard, lightning hammering the protective bubble of his wards, shattering itself against his determined magic, but the young man barely noticed, his attention focused instead on the spell gathering at the back of his mind. Dark and festering, it enveloped his hands in shadow until the moment that he pressed them against the ancient barrier. Its rusty hinges and pitted wood rotted to dust in the space of a heartbeat, leaving the mage free to step into the drafty hall of the Master's home.

*******

Ayden's breath caught in his throat as the shadowy figure stepped through the archway and into the great hall. He knew who to expect, knew that where she was, he would never be kept from, but as the flickering light from the torch he held illuminated a black cloak trimmed in silver and a pair of steel-blue eyes, all of his reasoning fled. The Slave was suddenly a boy of six, again, standing before the father he had always adored. That he should be here, alive after so long... Ayden felt the sting of tears behind his eyes and fought for composure. In the end, it was Graeson who reminded him of his purpose.

"Ayden, is this the man who'll help us?" the child's whisper did not escape either man's notice, and the Slave felt Aegon's sharp gaze watching him as he tore his own away to look down at the boy.

The smile he offered was weak, but he nodded. "Hai. This is m… is Aegon, and he's here to help the lady I told you about." Ayden looked back at the mage as he spoke, noting the concern in his eyes as he stepped towards them.

"You know where Yui is? You must take me to her!" It was clear that the swordsman knew they weren't here to oppose him. After all, a raggedy young man and a small boy were hardly the dastardly villain types.

"Yes..." The lad didn't trust himself to say much more to this ghost from his past, so instead he simply picked up Graeson and rushed off through the halls with his father fast on his heels.

*******

The final sigil was in place. The last vestiges of her will were broken. As the Master gazed upon the limp form laid out before him, his black eyes gleamed hungrily. She was the last he would ever need, the one who had what was needed to complete him. And despite the rush he had been forced to, she had been by far the most rewarding conquest of them all. He leaned down until his cowl touched the planes of her cheek and whispered beside her ear.

"Ima wa anata ga watasi no desu. Watasi no kiree na sakura. Watasi no kyusai." (10) The dark creature had the satisfaction of seeing her shudder, and not even her whispered "Zettai zya nai..." (11) could dampen his pleasure. Speak defiance all she might, she was already firmly in his spell. Her champion would find this secret chamber too late to save her.

The Master's craggy face actually split into a smile as he straightened and freed his hand from his robes. One touch was all he needed...

*******

The Weaver glanced at Chronos. The shadow stain of the Master's tampering had sapped the color from most of her being, cutting a fluid line diagonally across her face. In short minutes, she knew that the spell and the rouge Nightmare's actions would consume her cosmic role. It worried her, and worry was not an emotion the eternal being was accustomed to. "Have I acted too late?"

Chronos smiled softly and patted her shoulder, the warmth in his gaze especially bright. "One grain of sand can change the flow of a river... or of time. Have faith, Weaver of Dreams. We still have a few grains left..."