"He WHAT?" The glass beaker shattered as the thin fingers tightened around the fragile container, sending the foul-smelling ochre within sloshing over Daugolozan's robes and the worktable. He didn't seem to notice, with the glare he sent toward the spectre floating just within the door.

"The master has taken leave, for a time undetermined." Ghostly lips curled up in a amused smirk as he regarded the furious dracolich, and he couldn't resist digging into that irritation. Infuriating the living and undead around Gharnholme was one of the few pleasures left to Corbane, and he indulged whenever he had an opportunity. "He thought you would be able to continue your experiments without him, but if his faith was misplaced?" The bottle sailed in deceptively fast; passing through Corbane's head and shattering against the door behind. Hollow laughter echoed as he retreated, passing through the solid door and leaving behind a fuming Daugolozan.

Sibilant curses filled the air, several languages and dialects conveying the displeasure that the polymorphed dragon was currently experiencing. The hand that had held the beaker flexed, the embedded shards of glass seeming not to bother, or was unnoticed in his rage. Ignoring the wet silk clinging to his frame he stalked around the table, hands clasped behind him as he paced a circle around the workshop he had built.

"This is that shadow-bitch's fault." He snarled aloud, though none were around to hear. "First he forgets our primary focus by running off and joining those slavers, and now this!" His voice rose to nearly a shriek as he whirled around, sweeping his arm out to catch several of the jars sitting at the edge of the table and send them flying across the room. Droplets of noxious liquids and shards of glass radiated out in all directions, but just as quickly as he had lashed out Daugolozan was back to pacing, muttering under his breath as he considered the problem.

"She must be removed from the equation?" he finally said, stopping near the remains of the first beaker he had dropped. "Yesss"have her meet an unfortunate accident while DeAuster is away and his mind will return to the here and now." The mercurial temper eased, the thoughts entertained bringing an unholy glee to the sadistic dracolich. "Now, the question is how to accomplish this?? But even as he uttered the words an idea began to form, and soon sibilant laughter filled the laboratory as he moved to begin his preparations.

Having sent Dante back to its own plane as the snow grew deeper, Lucius continued ahead, plowing through the waist-high snowdrifts like a man possessed. And perhaps, were he to reflect on it, he was indeed that. Growling in determination, he pushed through a wind-sculpted ridge of snow as high as his chest, and then stopped short, his eyes flaring a bright orange in amazement.

Below him the ground dropped off rapidly into a bowel-shaped valley, the snow impossibly thinning as further down the sides one went. By the time Lucius had slid down to the bottom of the valley it had disappeared entirely, giving way to naked black granite. Rivulets of water poured into a deep chasm that split the valley in two, and across the gap lay a solid finger of rock, just wide enough for a man to cross. But all of this was taken in a second's glance, for it was the monument across the valley that held Lucius's attention.

A path wound from the bridge to a rocky rise, the top of which was carved into the shape of a leering skull. Black holes seemed to leer down at him, and the path led into the gaping maw, for all the world a gravelly tongue. "How positively Neolithic." Lucius muttered to himself as he glared up at the edifice, a hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.

Outward appearances bear not for what lies ahead. The whisper that was his companion held a tinge of amusement, he would later swear.

"And what is within?" Lucius asked, the words spoken aloud, as if a companion stood beside him.

Destiny, should you decide to take it. The reply brought a soft snort of contempt, as the grip on his sword eased.

"Destiny is what you make."

If you truly believe that, then you would not be here. A silky edge crept into the whisper, seductive as a touch, and Lucius could almost feel fingernails running lightly across his neck. Destiny brought you from the realm of death, and led you to this place. Every choice you make is a stone paving the path, every decision a roadmarker.

And now, is the time to again choose. Turn away and wallow in the darkness of longing, or go forward. But know this: Once you begin, there is no turning back. There is only success, or the darkness. Victory or destruction awaits you within.

The return and proclamation by the gravelly whisper brought a thin smile under the scarf, and Lucius turned back toward the edifice. "I have looked on the darkness, and spit in the face of death. I have faced the hordes of Tarterus, watching my friends die one by one under the claws of those that lurk there. I turned my back on the church that had been my life. I betrayed the one woman I every truly loved, and now I exist in the darkness between life and death. I have killed those I called friend, and become that which I once hunted." The sepulchral voice rose in intensity as he stared at the skull before him, orange-red eyes blazing in fury and determination, his free hand slowly flexing in wont of a neck, preferrably belonging to the infernal whispers. "I have nothing more to lose, and you think a simple ultimatum will dissuade me?"

Steel flashed in the afternoon sun, and with the sword held high Lucius bellowed his defiance in one long rage-filled cry, before stalking forward to disappear into the gaping maw.

"Pandemonium?" Sword tip dipping toward the ground, Lucius slowly turned again in place, wishing that he could see the speaker, to throttle him if nothing else for the maddening riddles in which he spoke. "That would rule out demons then, and they prefer an hierarchy of law to their evil. The devils are chaotic in nature, not bearing any mode of order that can be discerned by a rational mind. And, they are right deceivers in their designs."

Law, order'such a linear concept. There was no mistaking the amusement now, the voice taking on an almost condescending tone. The presumptuous idea of good and evil are merely ways to rationalize one's actions while condemning the actions of others. The minister seeking to force his beliefs on any and all passing his little street-corner has convinced himself he is doing good, same as the heretic sowing discord amongst the selfsame flock. Each see's the other as evil to their purposes. But each, on diametrically opposing sides of the coin, are the same. For it doesn't matter if one is a saint or a sinner, for in the end, all serve Pandemonium.

"And how is that, pray tell?" Yes, Lucius said it in a snide tone, hoping to goad the mysterious voice into revealing more about itself. Knowledge was power, and as yet, he had precious little of it concerning what he was dealing with. "Pandemonium by its very being has no rhyme or reason." He intended to say more, but a sound behind him brought him around, sword up at the ready. While he had been in the argument the fog had grown thicker in the cavern, and to the deathknight it seemed figures were moving within the ruddy mist.

You will learn the nature behind Pandemonium and Chaos, should you survive the trials ahead of you. Lucius growled softly, slowly looking from side to side as the mist curled around him. He started to slowly back for the archway from which he had entered, intending to get out of the vapors.

"And if I refuse?" There was no immediate answer, but the impact of something against his back brought him around in a whirl, ready to unleash upon his enemy. Instead he found himself staring at a solid wall where the arch had been, and he could find no sign of the passage or entryway.

Once you entered the cave, the Trials began. And the first one is quite simple. All you have to do is pass through the archway on the other side of the cavern. Snarling in anger and frustration Lucius turned back to the cavern and the mist, in time to see one of the figures move into focus. Humanoid, the thing stood easily as tall as Lucius, but the elongated cranium added a good foot to its height, the backswept horns giving it an even more impressive stature. Corded muscles rippled under the scarlet hide, fingers and toes ending in black talons that appeared capable of shredding flesh, bone and armor. But the immediate threat was the gleaming crimson blade it bore. For a mortal a greatsword to be wielded two-handed, but the creature swung it easily with just one. A guillaersk, warrior of Guillaer and servant of Pandemonium. It is they you must pass by in order to reach the other side.

Gritting his teeth, Lucius pointed at the creature, calling on the dark powers he possessed to hurl a fireball and incinerate the beast. His eyes flared to a nova-like intensity when nothing happened, and the deathknight stared at his hand in open astonishment, losing precious seconds in his disbelief. Ah, ah"what kind of a test of strength would this be if you were allowed to use arcane abilities, hmm"

There was no time to reply, as the guillaersk charged him with an inhuman howl, the greatsword raised for the attack. Lucius shifted to one side, bringing his longsword around in a circular parry, intercepting the other's weapon in a loud shriek of metal. His entire arm jarred from the blow, and the longsword shattered just above the hilt, shard flying in all directions.

The guillaersk gave him no time to adjust; forcing Lucius back with a backhanded swipe of its empty hand, then around again with the sword. Ducking the second blow, Lucius lashed back, the blades of the ensorcelled battlegauntlets extending as he aimed an uppercut at the beast's jaw, a blow that was deflected at the last second by a brush of the other's arm. The greatsword was parried by his left hand, the force of the blow sidestepping him to the right. The beast was strong, and surprisingly fast, but there was no finesse, and when it drew back to swing at him again Lucius moved within it's guard, his right fist cutting across the guillaersk's stomach in a backhanded slap, followed by his left fist burying itself in the solar plexus, the blades digging deep into it's innards.

Jerking his hand back with a savage twist Lucius kicked the thing away, not bothering to watch it slump to the ground as he turned toward the cavern. Two more guillaersks had stepped from the mist, stalking toward him, and he could see more moving within the fog, indistinct shades moving to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.

"Feth!"

Light assaulted his senses, and the deathknight paused, his hand coming up to shield his eyes from the blinding light. As quick as the exposure had begun it faded, and Lucius saw that he was in a well-appointed study. The walls were lined with shelves, books of all sizes, thickness and covers filling the bowed wood to near toppling. A desk was to his left, overflowing with papers haphazardly stacked and candelabra that cast a soft glowing light over the room. Beside the desk stood a lectern, a large book resting atop it, and beyond, another archway leading into darkness. Looking back, he wasn't surprised to find the opening from which he had entered no longer there.

Yes, ever forward. You have survived the first test. The soft voice had changed, no longer holding the hard edge to it, but now carrying the tenor of one more scholarly, with a hint of superior arrogance. But then, such is not hard to do, when dealing with the minions of The War God. Straightforward, unyielding carnage. No elegance whatsoever in the offering.

"And I suppose you are different?" Lucius held a hand to his side, over the tear in his armor. No blood flowed, the vitae having long turned to dust, but the wound throbbed with the dull pain that he still found surprising.

As different as your present is from your past"or your future. A hint of amusement grated on the undead's senses, and he took a further step into the room, slowly looking over the surroundings. In particular the lectern drew his attention, and a fingertip, the leather of the gauntlet still gleaming with the drying gore of his recent fight, brushed over the midnight-black binding of the book.

"The first trial was of strength and survival." Lucius said at last, the orange-red eyes slowly looking up and around, as though to see the one that whispered to him. "And this"a test of the mind."

Quite evident, of course, but some even fail to see that simple deduction. Again Lucius gritted his teeth in frustration and annoyance at the grating sarcasm that almost dripped from the soft words, but he bit back his retort. Any fool can pick up and wield a weapon, and some even find rewards from mindless brutality. But"couple the weapon with a wit"

?"And you have two weapons, each as potent as the other, and all the more together." The soft growl brought a grunt of pain, his left hand pressing into his side again as Lucius turned back to the book in front of him.

Exactly! There was no denying now the edge of sarcastic pride. And a focused mind can draw upon powers unimagined. And here"now"we see if you possess such a focus.

Growling softly again as he drove the pain back, willing himself to move without letting it hinder him, Lucius turned slowly in a full circle. "I am no mage, to be slave to a pile of moldy books and pots of liquids fermenting on a table." He slashed his hand through the air in a negating gesture as he spoke, teeth gleaming through the ruined cheek as he snarled in defiance. "I have not the patience of such pursuits. This?" and he held up the gore-stained sword as though for inspection as he continued. ?"is what I know. Hand-to-hand combat, straight up and clear!"

Honest, forthwith in your declaration, but said from a position of ignorance. The laughter that filled the room was as dry as the very air, and seemed to grow more oppressive by the moment. You already know how to channel the power around you, the same as a priest or a mage tapping into the manna that permeates the material. You already employ said majicks without thought. The beginning of your first test, for example" Thinking back, Lucius reluctantly had to agree, remembering the astonishment felt when his call for the mystical fireball had failed so dismally. It was but one of the many he wielded as a deathknight, and upon which he had bcome unconciously accustomed to using. The source of the power you may soon harness, however, is much different from what you now access.

"Priests and clerics focus power given to them by their gods. The same with holy warriors such as the paladin." Lucius glanced to the book again, the sallow forehead furrowing as he considered his reply. "That is"a divine power. And mages, as you said, use manna. That exists all around us, except in some cases not naturally occurring." Again his fingertip tapped on the binding of the book as he worked to puzzle out where the conversation was headed. "Even with the myriad schools of magic, the sources of power come down to the two: arcane and divine."

And there you are wrong. Pandemonium does not fall within the auspices of the material, nor does it look upon the prayers of the devout to dole out its blessings. The voice was circling, as though the master was walking around the student while dictating the lesson of the day. Our power comes from all"man and woman, nobleman and peasant, even your "good and evil?"We exist in the realm of hopes, dreams and nightmares, supping on the rampant feast given by the mortals. Base and sublime, this is what empowers.

"Emotions." Lucius said at last, several moments after the soft voice had quieted. "You feed on the emotions of man, like an empathic vampire."

Not quite. But the differences will be learned, if you succeed in the tests that follow. His head tilted slightly as he considered what he had been told, and then Lucius's eyes suddenly flared as he looked to the side, toward one of the lines of book-laden shelves.

"You said the first test was of The God of War. Exactly how many of these "tests" will I be facing?"

Inquisitive. Good. The voice lost a trace of the deprecating tone, as it came from behind Lucius now. Powers come and go, growing in stature for a time, then falling back into the Maelstrom. Such is the will of Pandemonium. But four"four are yet above, Together yet apart in goals and view. They test you this day. The first was Guillaer. A vulgar god, of murder and war, harnessing the rage and hate that lies within. Lucius nodded slowly, remembering the red haze that had befallen him earlier.

"And you?"

I am the holder of secrets hidden, the shadow of dark ambition that nudges and councils the powerful and goads the weak. Ancient hope and earthly schemes are my purview. And you, fallen one, may know me as K'posk.

And was staring at a reflection of himself.

Lucius brought an arm up to cover his eyes, feeling an instant's revulsion at what he had seen. Backing away he bumped into something hard, whirling to be confronted with another mirrored image. The deathknight twirled in place, but found himself confronted on all sides with the same vision. Snarling in rage he brought a fist up to smash the reflection he was facing.

With the sound of a thousand glasses breaking the mirror shattered, sending fragments flying in all directions as the larger pieces hit the floor and fractured. But the mirror still impossibly remained. Lucius reared back to again smash the mirror when his mind finally registered a sound over and above the sound of shattering glass. He looked around slowly, to find another impossible sight:

The reflections were laughing.

Not only were the reflections in the four mirrors surrounding him chortling, but the sound was joined by each splinter and piece on the floor. It was a cacophony that assaulted the deathknight's senses, and he crouched down, holding his hands over his ears as four other Lucius" towered over him. "Stop it?" he growled softly, closing his eyes as though shutting away the sight would stop the hideous mirth. "I said stop it! BE QUIET!" The last was roared as he rose to his full height, intending to smash the mirrors unto a million pieces if he had to, but was confronted by his own reflection, poised to to strike. The laughter was gone, the mocking reflections vanished as though never there.

The reflections of ourselves are seldom the way we would like to see. The voice was soft, carrying a thread of sensuality that Lucius had not heard in so many years he nearly missed it entirely. Most seek to warp and hide the truth inside, in the hopes that what they project will become the true self. "I have no delusions of what I am." Lucius waved to the mirror, ignoring the aped vision all around him as he spoke. "I am a monster, one of the undead." He forced himself to step next to one of the mirrors and truly looked at himself for the first time in over a century. His skin was the color of pale tallow, sunken against the skull underneath. Eyes the color and brilliance of a winter sunrise stared back in suppressed fury, the jaw set in a determined scowl. Teeth gleamed where they could be seen through the tear in his cheek, an injury inflected by one of his victims decades past that had never regenerated. His hair hung limp around his shoulders, usually hidden by the hood and scarf that had been torn away by the guillaersk.

Perhaps, but you were not always so. Before his eyes Lucius's reflection shifted, a subtle warping into the man he had once been. Instead of pallid flesh his skin was a healthy tanned, auburn tresses shining in the suffused light of the chamber. His features held the healthy glow of life, and the steel-gray eyes of the reflection widened in surprise, a mirror of his own. What happened to this man, hmm"

"He fell." Lucius replied, his hand moving to brush leather-clad fingertips to the flat surface. His image did the same, aping the slow shaking of his head that sent the russet hair fanning over his shoulders. "He was killed by his pride and inattentiveness."

Nay. His fall occurred much sooner than that did it not" The silky voice whispered, seemingly in his right ear. Lucius looked that way in reflex, but was not surprised to see nothing but another reflection. Let's look at the truth, shall we" The mirror Lucius was looking at shimmered, his reflection disappearing as a mist rose in the depths. As he watched another scene slowly came into a focus, that of a bed in a well-appointed chamber. He knew without doubt who the two locked in the throes of passion was as the memory one of his secretly cherished. It was this night you stepped from the path of the holy, fallen one. The night that for you everything changed.

"Yes." Lucius watched for a moment as the pair on the bed rolled, Fiona sitting astride him now, her fingers entwined with his own. "This night I gave myself to her, even if I spoke it not at the time." He dared to reach out, but the second his fingertips met the resistance of the pane the image faded back into the mists roiling in the mirror. "Why do you show me this" How is this part of your damned test?"

Remember, fallen one, how you felt afterward. It wasn't a question but a command, another vision shifting into focus. This one of a battlefield, his knights following as he hacked a path into the orc battle lines. The greenskin tribe was annihilated as he watched, followed by one of the barbarian tribes of the region surrounding Raven's Fast. Each fight, each victory helped build his coffers and the fame of his name. You felt more powerful, more certain of yourself. And you reaped the rewards... and again, He and Fiona, her face a mask of ecstasy as she stood braced against a balcony railing, the setting sun tinting her pale skin with a crimson sheen as he held her from behind, driving them both toward that primal release.

Passion filled the soul, as did the desire of conquest. These have lingered in your soul since the early years. Another mirror slowly wavered, another memory reflected even as the first continued. Only in this one a very young Lucius watched his mother caring for his sibling as well as working to prepare the evening meal. Lines of fatigue lay under her eyes, for the days were long working in the marketplace to keep food on the table. As a young boy you dreamed of leading a life of wealth and luxury, even as you devoted yourself to the worship of a faceless god. "And what do I have to show for such fantasies?" Lucius growled softly as he looked back and forth between the images.

You have followers now, even if they are undead. You have wealth taken from those you have defeated.

"But"is that all?" He looked back to the mirrors a last time, and then he turned away, refusing to look at the scenes of memory any longer. "You hint at rewards even if you speak not of them. But what more can I expect in this dark night?"

There are always differing paths into the future. There are always new rewards, new pleasures and treasures to sate the thirst and slack the lust. There was a hint of amusement in the soft voice, and the deathknight almost felt fingers running along his shoulders, the sensation sending an unwelcome shudder through the heavy frame. There are gratifications you have not even deigned to consider, believing them too base. But, as you open yourself more to the possibilities, you will find yourself luxuriating in the contentment of our grace. And your power will grow as the cycle turns. "Enough." He looked around the mirrors, each now holding his own reflection. He was growing tired of the seeming game being played with his past memories, and that frustration colored the tone of his words. "I will find my rewards as they come, forewarned or no." He had not missed the fact that the sultry voice had not answered his question. "So then, what is your test, nameless one?"

My name is many, though favored, Mal'lren. And as for my test, you have already passed it the night you dared to step out of the path properly laid before you. Lucius nearly balked in surprise as soft laughter surrounded him. You, like many, are ever watched and tested, and you never even know. You give praise and further our cause with no intentions of doing so. Thus it has been, and thus it will be. But for you, here and now, only the last remains. Pass through the garden, and then your true test shall begin. Lucius snorted, a frown crossing his mangled features and accompanying the low snarl.

"More riddles. Damn and twice-damn these cursed riddles" Glancing around, he discovered that one of the mirrors was no longer in place, a yawning dark portal silently beckoning. He waited a moment for the soft voice to say anything else, but when no words were forthcoming he started forward and stepped into the waiting darkness.

Each step seemed to bring another muttered growl or curse from Lucius as he stomped through the brambles under the forests boughs. He continually looked around him, expecting something, anything to jump out at him. He was assaulted by a cacophony of sound, his teeth gritting as he tried to block out the noise. And to make matters worse, there was a building pressure around him, as though the very air was catching him in a vice.

How heavy the air, how sweet the smell of decaying peat and animal spore. The voice echoed softly now, though the rasping undercurrent remained.

"A jungle is a jungle, no matter its location." Lucius replied, stepping over a root and looked around the trunk of one of the trees. "And they all smell the same." He didn't even try to hide the irritation in his voice as he brought a hand up to rub at his chestplate, the cloying air almost a physical presence against him.

Oh yes, my garden is beautiful. So much life abounds, a symbiotic relationship with the death that surrounds you. Lucius shook his head, muttering again about the insanity of it all, and brought a hand up as he coughed. No, no, my young friend. T"griel has nothing to do with your test this day. The soft laughter rocked the deathknight as he coughed again, and then looked around.

"These tests, as you so?" Lucius trailed off and looked at his hand in shock. He was"coughing?

Pathogens can lie so dormant for years. Spores float around you every day, each one capable of springing to life with any number of diseases. Some can even affect one such as you by attacking the nervous system that still responds to stimuli. Lucius went to ridicule the soft voice, mock it for trying to convince him of the impossible, but another series of racking coughs forced him to double over. The very fact that he was doing such nearly shocked him to insensibility, but he stumbled forward, an arm pressed against his side as though to will the hacking cough away. Another spasm sent him to his knees, his unused stomach heaving as though it still bore liquid contents, and it took every bit of his willpower to half-rise and move another few steps before collapsing again. The din of the jungle seemed to echo his choking, and his strength finally failed as Lucius collapsed, the heaving in his chest slowly dying away, leaving him lifeless on the jungle floor.

* * * NO!

Eyes flared like a sudden sunrise as they snapped open, and Lucius forced his way back to his hands and knees with a snarl of defiance. His head bowed for several seconds as he coughed, each convulsion threatening to collapse him again.

I

Slowly he crawled forward, each move sending agony though a system unused to the amount of pain it was experiencing again. The brambles were thinning around him, and he could see a clearing ahead, and through the perpetual mist he could make out a rocky wall.

WILL

Using a low-lying branch to pull himself to his feet, Lucius leaned against the tree trunk as another spasm tightened his chest. Brown flecks of long-dried blood flecked off his lips with the force of the hacking cough, and he wiped at his mouth with a grimy gauntlet, his eyes locking on the cavern's exit.

NOT

He stumbled away from the tree, and made it nearly halfway across the small clearing before he tripped over a dragging foot and fell with a loud banging of metal. Rolling onto his side, he clawed at the soft dirt, dragging himself toward the yawning black archway so tantalizing close.

SUBMIT!

His fingers hooked on the rock making up the arch, and with the last of his fading strength Lucius pulled himself forward, tumbling into the blackness that waited beyond.

Lucius's eyes fluttered open, and he shifted his body with a low groan to lie on his side blinking in the face of the dazzling sun hanging high in the cloudless sky. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes and growled softly as snow fell on his cheek, stinging the flesh with its icy touch. Brushing away the irritating fall he rolled slowly to his knees and then stood, looking at his surroundings.

He stood in a basin some distance down from the entrance to the caves, next to a small brook that had yet to completely freeze over. The wind swirled among the rocks, snapping at his body as he slowly turned a full circle. He shivered in the frigid breeze as he ran over the last events he could remember in his mind. He was so wrapped up in his brooding that it took a moment for Lucius to register a simple truth: He was" cold!

He doubted his very sanity for several seconds, but his body was telling him things that he had not experienced for so long, the least of which was the goose bumps rising along his neck from the caress of the biting cold. Paying more attention now he could feel himself breathing, small puffs of steam visible each time he exhaled. The smells of the clean snow and pockets of fir and pine were sharp in his senses, threatening to overwhelm him as he yanked off his gauntlets. Trembling fingers pressed to the pale skin at his wrist, searching'searching"and there.

The steady thrumming of a heartbeat.

Lucius stood as still as a statue for a long moment feeling the strong pulsing under his fingertips. His eyes fell on the small brook, and he ran in that direction, sliding to a stop on his knees as he looked into the water. No gleaming orange stared back, only the steel-grey of his previous life. No teeth gleamed through the ragged tear in his cheek, for unmarred skin now met his gaze. The reflection's hands moved over his chin and face in a slow inspection, before he threw his head back and screamed. No cry of anguish or anger was this, but one of pure surprise and delight echoing among the crags of the mountaintop.

Coming to his feet Lucius scooped up his discarded gauntlets from the snow and pulled them on to protect his hands from the cold. He gave a last look about the basin, his hair whipping around his features with the wind, before bending his will to summoning Dante. He needed to get back to Gharnholme, and try to make sense of what had happened. As he pulled himself into the saddle he thought he could hear light laughter on the breeze, a soft feminine sound that sent a shiver down his spine and made him pause. Reigns held in the right hand, he lifted his left and looked at it for several seconds, the fingers slowly flexing as he remembered the words in the hall of mirrored memory.

"Open yourself more to the possibilities?" His soft words were nearly lost in the gust of wind, but there was no hiding the smile that slowly grew as he did just that. With a jubilant cry he dug his heels into Dante's flank, the nightmare rearing to paw at the air before leaping forward and fading from view, leaving the basin empty once again.

((To be continued in Days of the Past))