Mairek dreamt. There was a glade where wind whispered through the grass yet the grass did not move. A solitary bird hang in the sky, its wings motionless rendering the bird's flight impossible, yet hang in the sky it did, a freak of nature, a creature counter to the rules that defined existence. The trees bent one way yet straighten they did not despite the tag of the wind flowing in the opposite direction of their bow.

  "Nielda." Mairek whispered, knowing full well that this was no dream.

  Oblivion is coming, Diva. Nielda's voice sounded, rumbling like thunder clouds. Mairek turned either direction to get a glimpse of the God but his sight offered nothing to this action. Abruptly, the wind stilled. The trees straightened then what appeared to be a dark blotch suddenly appeared before Mairek amidst the still green grass. Locha, the bringer of the endless night has chosen a champion and has played his first cards, possession and the withholding of death to bind the will of the dying to his whim. And the black blotch, an anomaly amidst the vibrant green hues of the glade, expanded rapidly, faster than time allowed it to and Mairek found himself falling into it, screaming as the darkness swallowed him whole and a bitter cold made its company known.

  The Champions must unite, you must bring Sin back into the realm, you need a flame to guide you in the darkness. And those were the last words Mairek heard. Drowned out by his endless scream as his perception was cut off and he was lost in the darkness.

  He woke up screaming and immediately the door to his chamber was flung open, the four bodyguards making their way in swiftly, brandishing their swords that had been drawn faster than thought. Tok immediately gripped the hilt of his sword in a Form of Grind, bent low as he twisted behind the open door, having deduced it to be the most likely place an assassin would lay wait after carrying out the deed. Sagal and Lam went to either corner of the room to ensure their periphery was unlimited, holding their swords in the Form of Slight, as if it was a routine quite rehearsed, hilt of swords held in a languid grip that would enable an easy swipe with a shift in grip.

  Afur, however, went to Mairek and pointed the tip of his sword at him. Everyone turned to observe Afur. Mairek peered up at him over the point of Afur's sword.

  "What the fuck Afur!" Lam lamented, "We are suppose to protect him! Not point a sword at him for fuck's sake!"

  Sagal run a dark hand over an even darker bald scalp. "Afur," he sighed. "Why, Afur? Why are you like this?"

  "I think its a defect of birth." Tok said, straining and making his way to Mairek. With slim long fingers, Tok lowered Afur's sword by the blade's flat. "Champion, what happens to be the matter?"

  The dream returned to Mairek, the cold and the darkness and Nielda's words. The God was arrogant, no doubt about that, a self obsessed prick who had power, more power than a mortal could fathom. Yet the impression the dream held wasn't one of warning nor threat. It did not hold the gentle nudge of advice. Instead the dream, as Mairek believed it to be, was one of desperation, fright and worry. Attributes Mairek thought to be nonexistent to the God.

  Fear engulfed Mairek and he sat up and closed his eyes.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "Mairek?" It was Tok.

  "There's something wrong." Mairek said.

  "Of course there's something wrong." Afur said. "There's always something wrong, look at Tok, for example, a tall handsome man like him doesn't have a wife or children. Neither do I. Sagal had a child but turns out the child wasn't his, looked more like the baker than Sagal. And Lam is gay and can't attract a man. There's something wrong! And you, Mairek, you just sit here all day and night when men your age are frolicking with babes. You're a disappointment Mairek, you don't embody the virtues one can look up to."

  Mairek opened his eyes and stared up at Afur. What the fuck is wrong with this man?

  "I'm not gay." Lam interjected. "Not that I have any quarrel with one's choice of partner. But I'm not gay! And I can attract a man if I wanted to."

  Afur turned to Lam, raised his pudgy fingers with bruised knuckles and stroked his white beard. "You think I don't know how you look at me? With desire and need? You want me, Lam, I know when I'm wanted."

  Lam lashed out with the flat of his blade but to Mairek's surprise he was sprawled on the floor with Afur's knee pinning him on the back, faster than Mairek could blink. "Look at you, so eager to be with me you literally fling yourself at me." Afur spoke, his voice calm and collected as if delivering an important point. "My mother warned me about men like you, men who'd stop at nothing until they take my virginity."

  "By the Gods!" Sagal pinched the bridge of his nose.

  "Mairek, what seems to be wrong?" Tok asked. Totally ignoring Afur and the squirming Lam.

  Mairek turned his eyes to the tall man, saw those eyes sunken within their sockets to be more warmly than their disposition allowed them to be. "I had a dream." Mairek started. Afur eased off Lam who rose from the ground while sheathing his sword, their attention on Mairek. "I saw, oblivion." It was the only word that could summise what he'd seen... No... what he'd felt.

  "What's it like, oblivion?" Afur asked.

  "I hope my ex wife is there. Did you see my ex wife? That cheating whore." Sagal's piping voice chimed in.

  Mairek wondered as to what was entirely wrong with this set of men who were his so called bodyguards. But their eager expressions spoke of their desire to gleam more from him, so he obliged them. "It's cold, oblivion, and not a soul in sight. And upon entering it, it's akin to entering the void. You are stripped free of everything that makes you who you are. You become a part of the darkness and the cold."

  Afur nodded as if he'd had the same thought on the matter. Tok's gaze unsettled Mairek, it was too fixed, too intent. Lam tapped his fingers on the pommel of his sword, face veiled in deep contemplation. And Sagal shook his head from side to side, as if disappointed that his ex wife wasn't in oblivion.

  "So." Lam started. "Can't you use your... abilities... to learn more from the dream?"

  Mairek shook his head from side to side. "A dream exists in the deep, to venture there is to relinquish control, and to do so is to give away the abilities I posses. Maybe Ishar can do it, chaos defies reason."

  Lam clapped his hands. "Ishar, the Kolotian?"

  Sagal raised his head. "The King Killer?"

  Mairek nodded.

  "Now that's a man with virtues one can look up to." Afur said. "I always thought I was the one who'd put down the tyrant. Gods know I did my best to get to him during the wars of my youth but I never could quite pierce through his seventh Legion's flanks. Damn bastards!"

  "Why didn't you charge him from the front? The seventh Legion were the crescent, there's always a gap before a Vigon Champion." Sagal wondered.

  "You haven't been at the front of an attack, Sagal, with you being primarily an archer and all." Tok opined. "The gap serves to limit an opponent's options, to enter there is to step into the Vigon's range. Instant death."

  Mairek started to understand the men given the task to protect him. They weren't just ordinary soldiers, they were forged of something more potent. Afur whom Mairek had no doubt was a blistering idiot, had faced the Seventh Legion of Binoria and lived to tell the tale. Few could have accomplished such a feat.

  "Hey." Tok said, "Why don't you ask the Kolotian for aid?"

  "You can't summon chaos, only live in hope that it does not find you." Mairek said. Turning his back to his body guards, stretching his legs in an attempt to put across the end of their conversation and his need for them to depart his abode.

  "Champion of the Talisi, Mairek of the weak chin and half spear, I cannot, in my right mind, watch you throw away your life in this prison." Afur wheedled. "How about you use your powers to enjoy yourself?"

  Mairek twisted to peer at the short man. "What do you mean?".

  And his question was met by a sharp grin, spreading over the faces of the men crested around him.

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