<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ADBFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"> A PROPHECY THAT WAS LOST </span></span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">Teaser</span></div><br/><br/>The tiny form stood still in the growing wind. His feet barely inches from the ledge overhanging a good fifty foot drop. The small form standing no higher then four feet, maybe an inch or two higher but it was very unlikely, was gazing down intently at the tableau beneath him. A cloud of black empty night flowed like myst over the floor of that valley every now and again parting enough to offer a sight that twisted the man’s stomach into knots. The man’s eyes drifted to the next opening gazing down upon the twisted for of a man lying on his side his face facing up into the sky twisted at the wrong angle. His arms sprawled to either sides of his torn flesh. The one clearly crushed by something. Fingers grasping towards the sky. The mist shifted again and the mans gaze drifted to the next scene. A woman who lay sprawled on her back a shape misshapen and barely recognizable lay across her lower half obscuring the rest of the woman. Her head was thrown back and her mouth was open as if screaming without voice. Here eyes were clearly open and shining like the opaque moonstones that hung around her neck on a black collar. Her dress still covered her modestly was torn to tatters in a lot of places. What fascinated him the most about this scene wasn’t the woman or the fact that her hands were buried in the fur that covered the twisted heap of flesh across her lower body, but it was exactly that. The monster atop her. A dark black form almost blending into the mist of midnight was covered in thick fur and had a head somewhere between a wolf’s and a human’s. The shape was all wrong. The snout too small, the eyes to large. The ears too pointy. Everything about this wasn’t right. The arms were too muscular that a regular mortal frame couldn’t have born them without being crushed from the weight. The height was too tall to be normal, from this distance the man could tell that the beast was roughly eight to nine feet tall. The legs were bent at odd angles and the feet were far too large and looked more like paws with too long toes then actual feet. The hands were tip with large claws that could tear a man to kindling with one strike. The scene was terrifying.<br/><br/>The man’s breathing quickened as the myst shifted and revealed the worst image yet. He’d seen countless dead in the hour he’d stood on this ledge. The ground soaked with blood and tinged a dark drawn that was almost red. Tears began to flow down his cheeks as his eyes focused on the small forms. Four tiny forms smaller then even he was were huddled together clinging to one another. They had been torn apart. A limb still clinging to a shirt piece. A head here and a torso there. It was beyond imagining. It was worse then a nightmare. His face drained of color and he feared he’d be ill from the sight. It was evident these small forms were children. Children who’d been hiding, maybe even fleeing. He whipped his hand across his eyes  trying to erase what he’d just seen as the mist moved in to cover the bodies once more. He shook all over and felt weak. His knees threatened to buckle. He didn’t know how much more this he could take. How could any sane men witness this horror.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000">“Have you seen enough Caldrian?”</span>the deep ancient voice said from beside him. Caldrian nodded and turned to face the voice. His eyes closing with the faintest of prayers on his lips. His lips trembled as tears chocked him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to hide in a hole and never see anything again. However none of this would bring back the village.<br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">“How many?”</span>Caldrian asked his long time friend and ally as he opened his eyes to gaze up at the tall man. Where Caldrian was short and stocky Azur was tall and thin. Azur’s frame was built as thin as a rail, a very faint trace of muscles could be seen atop the bones that were much more prominent. His face was thin and angular with a square jaw and large amber eyes. Long bone white hair descended down to his hips loose and flowing in the gentle wind. His body was covered in flowing robes of white that seemed to flow and ebb around him more like a fog or living fabric then actual cloth. The motion unnatural to the flow of the wind. The fabric appeared to be constantly winding around him and unwinding, flowing across his form like another entity. The paper thin skin was tinged with a hint of brown that he was darker then his fare skinned cousins who were native to this region. Deep lines etching into the weather beaten features marked the aged appearance. Wisdom would be expected from the ancient and not the fast amount of power that ebbed from him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000"> “This is the sixth village we lost to the plague,”</span>Azur answered his words clipped his voice almost distant. As Azur spoke Caldrian turned once more the mist. Shuddering. It had been like this at the three villages he’d been to in the last week.<br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">“They head North?”</span>Caldrian asked even then knowing the answer. Azur nodded only confirming what his maps had told him. Whatever these monsters where they were always moving due north. It was a never ending flood of darkness in their wake. From the first village that had been lost nearly half a year ago on the edge of Dead Man’s Woods. A large forest that was said to be haunted by the ghosts of the last war that had defined the borders of Alcrah and Dorsharn. Those who were skeptics believed that it was the Dorsharnians who had sent these monsters born of their dark magic into Alcrah to retake what Dorsharnians believed was their land. Caldrian did not believe this. He was one of the faithful of Alcrah who believed this to be the first signs of the Godswar. Caldrian was a priest of the Foldarian order.  He had been privy to the historical texts along with the Foldarian Prophecies. It was the signs of the great Godswar that had sent him out here seeking the ninth seal in time to stop this carnage. It was said that if the nine seals of Foldar was found before the eleventh hour of the seventh day of the month of snow at the end of one year after the first sign was seen then there was a chance that salvation would come.<br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">“We ride,”</span>Caldrian said suddenly. His mind snapping out of the thoughts of his mission. North. Due North. Only a two day ride was the village of Ashmore where his beloved sister was living with her husband and four children. Ashmore held more then just his sister however, it was the largest village this side of Lornmior. Ashmore was the border town between Alcrah and Dorsharn and it was one of only four villages that led right over the border. One of four entry point into Dorsharn. Framed on two sides by the largest river on the whole continent of Yamirah it was nearly impossible to breach it’s walls and Ashmore refused to be divided between the two countries. Saying instead that it was both Alcrahnian and Dorharnian property. Ashmore was the central trade route for the greater majority of all trade that went between the two countries as it was the only place where no persecution happened based on nationality. If there was one place that was most at risk he was certain it was Ashmore.<br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">“We need to reach Ashmore, before they do,”</span>Caldrian added after a moment. Azur nodded and waved his hand towards where they had tethered the horses before making their way up to the ledge. Caldrian nodded and headed back towards the horses. Half wondering how it was that Azur had found himself at the temple the night that Caldrian was to leave. How it was that Azur knew so much about an enemy no one else had ever seen before. For that matter Caldrian had not seen Azur eat or sleep in the whole of the week they had travel together. It was simply unbelievable. Caldrian had come to the conclusion that Azur was not of the mortal races of Yamirah. How could he be when he appeared to have none of the mortal needs? There was something more that bothered Caldrian. On their fourth day out, barely a day ago, Azur had sustained a mortal wound that should have been fatal. An arrow that had pierced his body where a mortal’s heart would be and yet not a trace of blood had been on the arrow. The only trace of the wound that had remained in the arrows wake was a dark black stain that marred the flowing material right over the left side of his chest. When Caldrian had brought it up Azur had deftly changed the subject and refused to resume any discussion of the matter.<br/><br/>The two man drew near the horses who were grassing in the field the had been left in. Caldrian untied the reigns and mounted with the usual difficult of a plump short man. Wiggling the last of this significant bulk into the saddle Caldrian turned panting a little to watch Azur. Azur stood at the head of his horse whispering softly into it’s ear. There was no reigns or saddle upon the great black stallion. Azur simply rode the beast barebacked. He finished with his whispering and moved to the side getting upon the stations back with ease. An ease that made Caldrian feel a sharp pang of jealousy. Hands intwined in the mane of the great beast Azur turned those amber eyes to Caldrian aware at long last that Caldrian was watching him. The expression on the ancients face never wavered. A mask of withdrawal and cold shone forth to face the world. Caldrian shook his head and turned back towards the road guiding his mare into a light trot. Azur fell into step next to him and Caldrian turned his attention to the ancient.<br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">“You know one day I’ll figure out what you are Azur,”</span>Caldrian said with the same light tone he’d always used. Azur offered a rare smile.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000"> “And one day I will tell you why I have come,”</span>Azur replied before sparring the stallion into a full gallop.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ADBFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"> THE UNFOLDING OF TIME </span></span></span><br/><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">One Month Later</span></div><br/><br/>Caldrian sat in the tent on the west side of the river. His head lay in his hands. The maps lay sprawled over the table the world map buried by all the smaller maps that he had been reviewing. Caldrian could still feel the hot tears burning his eyes as he pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes trying to block out the painful memories. His mind a wash of loss and pain and regret. So much regret.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000"> “Caldrian,”</span>Azur called which only succeeded in startling Caldrian from his dark thoughts. Caldrian glared at Azur.<br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">“Get. Out. NOW,”</span>he growled between clenched teeth. His hands balling into fists. Anger flooded his being as his eyes narrowed. The faint trace of tears still clung to the corners of his eyes and his lashes. A hint of despair clung to his gaze. Azur could see it plain as day.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000"> “You don’t want me to do that,”</span>Azur said his voice unwaveringly calm. His face showing not a trace of emotion. Just like it always did, but this time it angered Caldrian more then anything else. With a savage scream Caldrian launched himself from his seat. Catching the table at an odd angle he sent it flying. The maps flying up into the air and a single moment in which Caldrian hung in the air and the table seemed to crash to the floor in slow motion. Flying pieces of paper, shards of black stones and pencils flying in every direction.<br/><br/>Then time resumed and the table crashed with a muffled crash followed quickly by Caldrian who rolled and landed in a low crouch. Teeth bared in a savage angry roar. His hands held twin blades down by his side. Azur simply stood still as stone ignoring the sight before him. Even as Caldrian ran at him swinging the blades in a blurred arch. The strangest thing happened when Caldrian launched his attack. The blades went straight through Azur and nothing happened. Azur simply stood and watched unamused by the sight.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000"> “Are we done now?” </span>Azur said dryly as Caldrian froze mid swing in startled surprise. Caldrian grunted and lowered his weapons to his side. Anger still clouding his face as he glared into the black eyes facing him.<br/><br/>The sharp clatter of steel on stone resounded through the tent, but Caldrian didn’t hear it. He lost himself in that endless depth that showed him the past. Memories he’d tried so hard to forget.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #8AB8E6;background:#8AB8E6;"/></div><br/><br/>Four days hard riding would tired anyone. Worn and weary, almost ready to fall Caldrian finally pulled up short when they reached the main road down into Ashmore. Azur sat as still and steady as a rock on his stead. He didn’t look any worse for wear and he certainly didn’t look tired at all. Or even uncomfortable. Lucky bastard. Caldrian wished he could say the same. After having slept in the saddle and being bounced around like a sack of potatoes for four days straight he was saddle sore in places a male really aught not to be sore.<br/><br/>Every little movement that Azur made came to a complete stop as his head turned north towards Ashmore and he sucked in his breath sharply.<span style="color: #E60000">”We are too late,”</span>Azur’s words ran through Caldrian like a cold shower.<br/><br/>Caldrian tried to get his horse to move forwards towards the town. Towards his sister. He couldn’t. The beast seemed frozen to the ground resisting his urging. He screamed in frustration and leapt off the animal taking off at a dead run to Azur’s wordless cry of frustration.<br/><br/>Azur jumped down and started running. For a thin, skeletal man he was fast. His speed took him to within inches of Caldrian as the slope began to descend towards the border village. Azur cursed as the sight before him tore through him and he knew the call of that magic right to his bone. Caldrian kept running forwards towards the black wall that was beginning to claw it’s way through the streets of the city. The mist seeming to seek out life.<br/><br/>Azur ran forwards and grabbed Caldrian in an iron tight grip. Caldrian screamed as he struggled, but the fight outside was nothing compared to the fight inside Azur. The doors to his mind thrown open by the call of the mist to his blood he felt his grip on his human shape begin to waver. He shook like a leaf in a storm as he watched the mindless slaughter within the mist. Gasping for breath he could barley move.<br/><br/>Caldrian kept screaming. Until even his own cries couldn’t be heard. The screams of the others within the mist filled the air and Caldrian knew, no one would be left alive.<br/><br/>Caldrian collapsed to the ground and Azur let him. Unable to do more for his friend Azur withdrew from the mist. Knowing that Caldrian wasn’t in danger anymore. Only madness lay in the mist.<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: #8AB8E8;background:#8AB8E8;"/></div><br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">”What are you?”</span>Caldrian asked as he came back to himself and Azur backed up away from him and the wreck of the tent.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000">”Your greatest ally and your worst enemy,”</span>Azur said turning to face the doorway where a lithe female figure appeared crouching down to enter the tent. She was tall and well muscled. Her face a mask of terror and determination as she faced her commander and the stranger who advised him.<br/><br/><span style="color: #5CE65C">”The mist is forming Caldrian and it is coming straight for us,”</span>her voice shook slightly as she spoke, but the way she held her hand over the hild of her sword said she would die fighting. Caldrian shook himself. He looked over to Azur who didn’t look any different then he always did. Ancient and cold.<br/><br/><span style="color: #2EB8B8">”Call an evacuation, we can’t fight this. We must head towards the next town. Gather the man. We leave now,”</span>Caldrian said in a tone that spoke of authority and command. As the young female ran from the tent Caldrian began to gather his things.<br/><br/><span style="color: #E60000">”We are too late,”</span>Azur said. Those cold words caused Caldrian to look up sharply. Those same words echoed from his past. He straightened holding the map he had been gathering in one hand. Sure enough tendrils of black mist began to filter into the tent and the screams of his comrades echoed through his ears. Dropping the map he grabbed his blades and ran out o the tent Azur at his heels.