You still remember it all, don't you?

You remember the excitement. It was the first time in such a long time that you felt anything other than numbness. The first time since you became an orphan where you allowed yourself some measure of happiness. Such a sad thing for a boy of only nineteen.

It had only been a handful of months since the last tragedy in your life, and you were on your way to experience your next.

The excitement you felt as you crossed the ocean wasn't to last. It quickly went to panic when the airplane began to shake and rumble. Then the fear crept - no, not crept - it assaulted you. You saw the look in the eyes of your friends, the same friends that had become your surrogate family in light of that other tragedy, you saw the fear in them.

You wished you had never allowed the numbness to leave.

Everything after is a blur, yes? The yelling coming from all around you, the eardrum splitting sound of metal hitting rock, your body being punished by an impact that dislodged the very seat you were upon, flung through the other masses of bodies, like fireflies shaken in a jar. A wing was torn off, bodies had been ejected, some of your friends had the skin on their feet torn to the bone. You were lucky. You had only minor injuries, a fractured leg, a few broken ribs perhaps? A concussion? Better off than Adam, who had broken his back when you fell on him.

You still carry that guilt with you to this day, don't you? Or do you carry a guilt much heavier than that? From the unspeakable actions you and your fellow survivors were forced to take. Or something even larger, perhaps?

There you were. Ten survivors. Somewhere in a mountain range in a foreign land, with only snow and other mountaintops for as far as you could see. You did what you had to do to survive. No man will begrudge you for that. You felt justified that it is what your friends would have wanted, didn't you? That their bodies be used to help you survive in that bleak time, where weeks had passed without a sign of help arriving.

And then more died. And then more. Some because the medical attention they needed never came and some because the environment just overwhelmed them. In the end you had a decision to make. You were the only one with the strength to leave the wreckage. You were the only one capable of facing the elements to search for help. And so you left. Three besides you were alive, and you promised you would return with help.

You never lived up to that promise.

You tried, valiantly. Though you never had a chance. You didn't know which way to go, you didn't know how far you had traveled, you didn't know where you had come from. You were an insignificant speck in the snow, and the pack of wolves bearing upon you were to spell you doom.

Until you found your own salvation. You remember tumbling down, and then landing on a bridge. You ran for the gates at the end, and archers saved you from the pack on your heels. You fell, exhausted, dehydrated, and freezing into the City. You had found your salvation.

Do you remember what came next?

Daniel was subject to nightmares when he was a child. It became a common occurrence, and there was only one way that he could be calmed once awoken from his sleep. His mother would have to get him a glass of milk and gently rub his head until he drifted back to sleep. She would often compare him to a kitten because she joked she would know when he was back asleep, because he'd end up purring just like one.

He hadn't had a nightmare in years. Not since his second day of high school. Not even after he lost his family. Not even after the plane crash. He never gave it much thought, except one passing thought where he believed his mind was holding in everything, all the trauma, waiting for the right moment to strike at him. That thought may have been correct.

The last nightmare shocked him out of the deepest sleep he had ever been in. He later learned that after his rescue, he was took into the City where his body finally shut down, the stress and fatigue and injuries too much for his will to keep at bay any longer. If time was kept in the City of the Reach as it was on Earth, Danny would have been told he was out for three and a half weeks.

He was cared for by the Disciples of the Left Palm. Nursed back to health through meditative processes and the Science of Thought. It could have been an ancient technique passed down through the Traveling Monks of Mercy, or it could have been an advanced science brought to the City by Mr Wells. Whatever it was, Danny was instructed in it, allowing his mind to help his body recover from its wounds.

Now finding recovery from the wounds to his heart, mind, and soul was something all together different. "You will need to find peace within yourself if you wish to truly avoid destruction," Danny was told by the Master Devil's Mirror. Danny was offered a chance to repair himself through training, focusing on aligning his Qi to bring peace to the inner turmoil which tore through his heart like a hurricane. Danny accepted.

Thus, Daniel Brooks became the Twenty-First student of the Devil's Mirror.

Hi, diary. I know I haven't kept up with you as much as I have in the past but things have been really busy! This was the first year at school where I didn't have Danny scaring off all my potential boyfriends. Dave oh yeah he wants to be called Dave now! Can you believe it?? You turn 17 and all of a sudden you think your an adult and that calling you Dave instead of David makes you more like a man! Anyway Dave tried to pick up the slack but he is nowhere near as scary to guys as Danny is but thats prolly cuz Danny was Mr. All State in every sport and some color of belt that I don't even think is real. Dave might be smarter but that doesn't scare boys away like Danny saying he would beat them up would.

This is so bad. I am avoiding the real reason I wanted to write here and trying to make jokes so it doesn't seem as bad. That's what Danny said he does. Okay. Deep breathe. I should just get this down. Nobody will read this but me anyway right?

I was supposed to have the house all to myself last weekend. Dave was going with mom and dad up to see some museum exhibit in Chicago. Danny was off at school. So I invited Ronnie over to watch a couple of scary movies and I don't know what else. No I do know but it wasn't smart. You remember Ronnie right? He was okay but Dave said it was weird how he seems to always act real different when he wasn't around me but I thought that was just how boys acted. But yeah he came over and we started to get a lil hot n heavy and then I wanted to stop. He just kept kissing me and trying to get my bra off and I kept trying to get him off and I don't know what would have happened. But Danny came home I don't know if mom and dad asked him to check up on me or if he just wanted to see me or the dogs but I don't care.

I never saw him so mad before. It wasn't like the mad that you think someone would get when they see some guy all over their half naked sister who is bawling her eyes out but I just remember that he was so quiet and fast that it didn't seem real. He just threw Ronnie off of me like he wasn't anything and then went outside. I didn't hear anything and I didn't ask Danny what he did but I never saw Ronnie again. I was so glad he didn't go to my school but I think that he would have transfered or dropped out if he did because Danny scared him so bad.

So I was there and I cried and cried and just hugged Danny. He got me dressed up then he took me to steak n shake and bought me a strawberry and banana shake and we just talked. He didn't scold me or get mad at me or anything like I thought he would. We just talked about it and everything else for a couple of hours. Then he told me he wouldn't tell mom and dad unless I did but he would be there with me and I told him I didn't want to tell them and he said that was fine. Then the next day we watched a marathon of movies that I picked out. He didn't even complain about having to watch Clueless and 10 Things I Hate About You back to back. I think he secretly likes those movies!

Now Im kinda sad that he's back at college. But I call him more and he doesn't seem as bad as I thought he was when he was around. I actually sort of really miss him now. But in another 2 years I'll be on campus with him then we can hang out more! I so can't wait!

Am I dreaming?

I can see my body floating above the ground. This can?t be real. But I haven?t had a dream since? I can?t even remember. What?s that sound? My head hurts. Last thing I saw was the apartments. I didn?t make it back. But here? this is outside the City. And the smell of burning, but not from a fire.

My feet hit the ground. This is slow motion. What am I looking at? The scenery is changing, like flicking through a kaleidoscope, but through someone else?s eyes. Like I?m existing in a mind?s eye, but displaced in time. But that sound? Like I?m standing underneath power lines.

?You lecture me on survival? You! After what you did to survive and you dare to outcast me?!?

Her voice stings, like shocks sent through the air, small snaps of electricity popping my eardrums. I find myself watching some shade of myself, shifting and stuttering in vision and space. I?m defending nature and my teachings. She?s an abomination. Brought back through unholy science stolen and bastardized. A modern day Frankenstein?s monster, I think. Surrounded by foul creatures that gorge themselves on the fruitful and benevolent life essences around them.

I couldn?t save her either. I know that?s why I lashed out; my heart?s sting tells me that. But I covered it in half-truths and words from scriptures and mantras.

?So many questions, my sweet Daniel. Some you haven?t even asked yourself aloud. I know why your mind betrays you. I know why they come now. But a question for you??

I?m floating again. Something?s bringing me back. Was this what it?s like before dying? Can?t be. I wasn?t in that bad of shape. What is all this?

?Survival or sacrifice??

?What about weapons??

?Weapons!? the sensei laughed. ?Weapons we shall teach you. Yet you must understand the gravity of this choice.?

?Gravity?? Danny asked as he looked up at the towering man who had laid a hand upon his shoulder. ?But won?t I need weapons if I?m to fight??

The Devil?s Mirror smiled the type of smile of one who has had to explain something one too many times. ?Daniel, before I?m done with you, you will be a weapon. Come, let me show you.? The man turned, leading Danny toward a wooden practice dummy.

?Now strike,? he ordered, motioning to the dummy. Danny nodded and set his feet apart with bent knees. He crouched his body as his right arm went backwards with his palm facing outwards. With a sudden motion he slammed his palm into the wooden dummy, cracks and splinters blossoming from the point of impact.

The Devil?s Mirror nodded his approval. ?Nicely done. You see how you landed a blow which would incapacitate your foe, yet not be a lethal strike, yes??

Danny bowed his head as he responded, ?Yes, Sensei.?

?Yet you are capable of altering the strength of your attacks,? he continued as he pointed out the splinters and their patterns. ?Or location. To make your attacks lethal or to make them simply nothing more than an annoyance.?

Danny again nodded, but his brow furrowed. ?Yes, Master. I don?t understand what this has to do with weapons, though.?

Masked eyes fell upon Danny?s face. It had taken time, but Danny no longer withered from the direct attention, or looked away. He stared right back into the white orbs. ?Daniel,? the Devil?s Mirror quietly spoke, ?when I teach you to use weapons, there will be no such choice. You use weapons only to kill.?

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Infiltrations were not his specialty. Danny was used to being a brute, facing his opponents up front and going headlong into battles. It may have been because deep down he never forgave himself and wanted to rush straight into his death, or it may have been personal preference. Yet he had to master all tricks of the trade, and so he had to learn to be nothing but another shadow in the night. And this infiltration was an assassination. Nobody was to be left alive.

Danny had been trained in a myriad of weapons ever since the day he first asked about them. He came close to mastering them all, only failing with the kama. He had become rather fond of the straight edge wakizashi sword, choosing to use that alone instead of pairing it with a katana as it traditionally would be used. He found it was short enough to wield and carry without being a burden, as he still preferred to use his hands and move quickly, without the hindrance of a larger weapon. He was good with the weapon in his trails and tests, but this would be his first practical mission with a weapon.

He had climbed a mountainside to a cabin at the top, avoiding lookouts by keeping in crevices and shadows as he made the ascension. Once his feet hit the snow he darted to the shadows and safety of a small rock. His breathing was barely perceptible, hardly even catching on the frigid cold wind. He made a quick survey of his targets: four guards patrolling, an unknown number inside, and his target on the second floor, closest to him, with a lookout. He would be seen if he went right for the room, so the plan was to break through into the room from the one next to it.

As the first lookout approached, Danny silently drew the sword from its sheath, holding it downwards and against his forearm. As he heard the crunch of footsteps opposite, Danny pounced. The guard didn?t have time to react as Danny sliced the sword across the man?s neck, blood gushing as his neck was nearly separated from his body. No wasted movements, he was out in the open and had to end this quickly. He ran for the two gathered near the doorway, one had their yell stopped as his throat was severed, the other losing his hands with a quick swipe as he attempted to draw his weapon. Danny spun and buried the sword in the man?s gut, slicing upwards as the lookout?s intestines spilled to the ground. Danny did not give him the honor of a quick death by decapitation.

One left. Danny flicked the blood from his sword as his eyes scanned the premises. His ears barely picking up the sound of whistling air as he dodged, and arrow landing in the wall behind him. Then he heard it again, running toward the arrow and using his sword to deflect it in midair. The man was drawing another and he had the arrow cocked, but it was too slow. Danny drew his sword across the archer?s midsection, and then with another spin and twirl, the blade went through the man?s chest.

It was then he heard the bell ringing, the crude alarm system. The window lookout had spotted him, and guards began to pour from the entrance, swords and crossbows at the ready. They all assembled on the downed archer, yet found no sign of the assassin. It was then they realized their mistake, and they turned to hurry back into the house.

It was too late. Danny had just felled the window lookout while his target sat, smug. He began to open his mouth, to say something, when Danny slid forward and cut his jaw off. The man gurgled as his tongue hung from the opening in his face. ?They told me not to let you talk, that you?d control me that way. Or kill me. They said you had a wicked tongue,? Danny said as he gripped his sword. ?They said to bring it back as a trophy.?

The guards entered the room, too late. They found their leader slumped against the wall, missing his face. The angle was a cut which also removed his tongue. Danny had escaped out the window with his mission accomplished, as well as the trophy for his masters.

Down he went again, a grunt escaping through clenched teeth, along with a fresh trickle of blood from his nose. Danny reclaimed his footing after a moment. He was woozy, nearly out of it. The blood followed the path of his upper lip, traveling to the corner of his mouth. He licked it, the taste of copper on his tongue.

"You are not getting angry?" the man in front of him asked, the inflection of his tone indicating a modicum of surprise.

"I don't get angry. I control it," the battered Danny replied. His face bore the markings of abuse. Welts and bruises and broken skin spattered with cuts.

"Perhaps," the large figure responded. He was at least a foot taller than Danny, and weighed about twice as much, not to mention being at least four times as large around the waist. For the last half hour he had been battering Danny with a barrage of fists and palms. Danny's face was just the latest target.

He stood nearly hunched over, one arm dangling loose as it had nearly been torn from the socket. The other was folded over his stomach, attempting to hold together busted internal organs, perhaps. Through it all Danny had not lifted a finger to either protect himself or strike back. He was following directions.

"You have done well! Only one last blow remains."

Danny nodded, his jaw tightening as he waited for the next blow.

"Your mother and father are burning in Hell. And it's all because of you."

The change of emotion on Danny's face was nearly imperceptible. Just a flair of nostrils and a tensing of muscles around his eyes. And it was only there for a fraction of a second.

The next second was when Daniel leaped toward his assailant, lifting his knee directly into the many chins above his neck. The man's head snapped back as Danny landed on his feet, driving a fist into the enormous gut before him. The air was filled with a wheezing sound of air leaving the man's lungs, just before Danny's yell drowned it out.

Danny drove his shoulder forward as one leg went behind the man's, tripping him and sending him on his back. The ground lightly shook upon impact. Danny continued to yell, uncontrollably, as he mounted the fallen man and assaulted him with fists and elbows.

A moment later four hands were pulling him back as he kicked and flailed still. His eyes ablaze, shouts and intelligible yells hurdled toward anyone and everyone. He continued to thrash and curse before his Master placed a hand upon his shoulder, and nearly instantly Danny calmed, knowing the familiar touch and what it meant.

His gi was tattered and torn, but still hanging off his body as he rolled just out of the path of an arrow, then another. Danny's breathing remained controlled as he began to run toward the archer firing upon him, focusing on the drawstring as it was pulled back and released, an arrow screaming through the air in his direction. A small dodge of his head and he could hear the arrow as it zipped past his ear, no louder than the buzz of a bee. In the next instant his legs propelled him the rest of the distance before another arrow could be loaded, Danny's forearm at the neck of his attacker as his other hand smacked away the arrow, which was still dangerous even in close combat.

The archer was female, and she put up a brief and valiant struggle, but was no match for Danny in close quarters. He continued to put pressure to her neck as she clawed and tried to use the bow for leverage to push him off. But he was too heavy and too strong. In another moment she was unconscious and Danny rose from atop of her. Breathing heavily as he looked in front of him, noticing a flash of lightning on the horizon.

Then the sound of air being split found his ears, just in time for him to drop to the ground, but not before an arrow was lodged into his chest. A few inches to the left and it would have pierced his heart. Danny grabbed the bow of the woman he just dispatched as he scrambled to his feet and jetted off in the direction of the new attacker. Another arrow was already on its way, and Danny was able to pluck it from midair, just inches from his face. In the same motion he brought the bow up to the ready, turned the caught arrow and loaded it, and sent it back from where it came. It didn't matter if it hit or not, it was just to buy him time. No other arrow came his way before Danny leaped forward, a foot sent into his attacker's face. He spun and fell to the ground, and Danny followed it up with a fist to the head, making sure he wouldn't get up any time soon.

Giving a grimace as he pulled the arrow from his chest, a fresh flow of blood leaving the hole in his body. Danny removed what was left of his shirt and wrapped it over a hand, putting it over the wound. He glanced down at his fallen assailant, noticing how similar he looked to the female archer. Putting it out of mind, a small groan then given as he began his trek toward the lightning in the skies.

Between the Reach and the Lost City of Hell lives the Old Forge. Creator of weapons lost to legend and mythology. Excalibur, Mjollnir, the Spear of Destiny, Heaven's Will, the Axe of Perun, and so on and so forth. It was here that a weapon not yet inscribed into history resides. Its wielder not yet chosen. It lies waiting for its champion to take it, and to put it to use. Be it good or evil, the weapon has no choice or desire for one above the other. It simply exists to be used.

Yet to be named, it waits. Crafted for the user who is yet to be determined, it will be a perfect fit for their skills and talents. The straight-edged wakizashi is crafted from metals not found beyond its realm. Twenty-one inches long, contained in a longer sheath to disguise its length and allow for a more surprising, quicker draw.

It waits to be claimed. To no doubt fall to a worthy warrior. The Forger would allow nothing less.