Welcome to Gaia! ::

kamilie and everan like each other, or something along those lines with some short streching suffices as far as that matter goes. The reader can get to know then as the plot progresses as well.

Personal sacrafice, not doing something that mmight benifit one but harm the other, or keeping something from the other that might hurt the others feelings, all would help to support this fact.

I didnt say anythign should wait just that you shoudl condense the fact so as to prevent overkill. Or stretch it out with while the plot is moving, which is just as good an idea.


and again you dont have to over kill it. just a few mentions here and there as the story moves on.

no honestly, everan and kamilie or something along those lines, or rather something ten times those lines or perhaps three paragraphs along those lines or a whole chapter, is just fine......


....gah! I dont even know what you really have. what do you want from me kirbs? A lot of the information you have can be condensed or expressed in more pleasing ways.

...wait do you even care about hooking the readers attention?

one last thing, kirbs i have your picture finished, Its a water color of a tree with two children.

The elves arnt really cleanly defined though.

anyways, i should have that to you as soon as my scanner gets fixed ( honestly, with computer repair, who knows when that will be.)

again, good luck.

nah uh! I love science! Im just moving quickly so as to break a few undesirable traits that have not lead to happiness thus gar ( routine has killed me in the past and im finnaly gonna kill it off. )

( along with a few other things, and im also gonna fine toon my interests and work ethic. )

Good luck for the third time; and adios.

Okay, look. HEre's a final explanation of my behavior. NO ARGUMENTS>

For all intents and purposes, the world is ending after the next chapter. MAybe nothing so dramatic...well, you'll see. So right now I'm building up on their background, because it's very very important that you get to know them before all this bad stuff happens. I wanted you to see several things.

--Ametris is supposed to be a world of peace, but it doesn't always work like that.
--Kamile and Everan are orphans, rather unpopular, and trying their best just to get food for another day.
--Kamile and Everan mean the world to each other, and have been together their entire lives.
--Kamile's cheerful and upbeat; Everan's cold and scrutinizing. And yet, they have their moments of exactly the opposite.
--Pilori's whole...being there-ness. I don't like her much, but she's semi-important.
--Marli's being-from-another-country thing. As I will explain once I update it, that shouldn't be possible. She is the key element here. All the mystery right now is focuse on her--where she came from, and why.
--Birthday presents are also rather important. Three out of six of them will end up saving their lives.

So everything I do, every tiny detail I add, is so you can get to know them and their world, the present situation. It must be fully understood before I smash it to pieces, savvy? Ohhh, you won't believe how important that is.

Again, no arguments. Just read, soak in, and reply with NO CONTROVERSY. Thankuu~.

Posted...that? ^ up there?

Oh, well, you didn't have to read that. >.< It was for Nova's benefit/correction.

Don't worry, chapter seven is close to completion. It's just one long ramblation of conversation, then a speech, then random paragraphs, then this cuteness with the birthday presents. And then ch. 8, which will only be....hmm, maybe 7 pages long. Who can tell?

YAAAAAAAY!


heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart heart

And here it is!

...Reese, you promised.

Chapter Eight



Kamilé stared at the woman, their eyes locked for what seemed like ages. She was shaking like a leaf in a storm, but that was nothing compared to what happened next—the woman turned her head to look at them, her bloodred irises boring into both of theirs, and after a pause, her lips curved in a sly, amused smile. A glint of white teeth, accompanied by a strip of pale skin showing behind her dress, was all that separated her from the shadows. Kamilé saw the smile, saw the glint in her eyes, and had to cover her mouth to keep herself from screaming. For reasons she couldn’t name or describe, this woman frightened her more than anything in her entire life…more than thunderstorms, more than falling from the waterfall…this woman spoke of death, pain, and evil.

Everan saw her face turn pale with fear, saw her shaking, heard her shriek inside her mind, and decided that he had had about enough. Clenching his fists until his fingers whitened and setting his jaw, he made himself as tall as he could and headed off at a brisk pace…directly for the woman. Kamilé saw him and cried, Everan, no, don’t! but he wasn’t listening; there was a hard glint in his eyes that she had never seen before. She ran to catch up with him, thinking frantically that anything would be better than letting that scary woman kill Everan, and arrived at his side just in time to see the woman turn, looking down at him with vaguely interested surprise, and hear him speak for the first time in eight years.

“Excuse me,” he said coldly…gods, his voice was scary. Inside his head, it was at a decent volume and intensity, perfectly normal, but a little deeper-pitched…but on the way to his mouth, his voice must have gotten a little lost, because now, it was soft and quiet, dangerous almost, and in its low half-whisper it held an immense power of some sort, a strong intensity…his voice was chilling, and sent shivers down Kamilé’s spine.

“That’s the Heart of Ametris,” he continued, his tone so harsh and cold that Kamilé thought she might run away, or pass out. “If you were here earlier, you’d know how important it is. You need to give it back to the Elders right away.”

The woman ran her eyes over them both, taking in their dirty clothes and bodies, their identical features, Kamilé’s frightened and wide-eyed, Everan’s coolly determined, and finally, the marks on their foreheads, identical, but reversed. They in turn noticed that she was human, and her black dress had no sleeves and was sewn with tiny glass beads, or pieces of crystal…it was obviously made for her, and she was tall and graceful and clean. When she had assessed them, apparently deciding if they were a true threat to her, she smiled. It was meant to be a sweet, yet condescending sort of gesture, as if they were only two small, naughty children who really ought to get to bed.

“Of course I will, sweetheart,” she said fawningly, but it didn’t quite work that way…her voice was sickly sweet, hiding a hard core, cold and distant. Kamilé knew instantly that she was playing with them. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. You can go back to your little game now.”

Everan frowned slightly, and his eyes flashed; she was in trouble now. Kamilé caught all three mistakes the woman had made: she had called him “sweetheart”, she had talked to them as if they were stupid little kids, and she was lying. He didn’t need Kamilé to tell him that…she couldn’t anyway. She was still immobile with shock and fear.

E-Everan…she managed, her eyes flicking from him to her to him. Wh-wh-what…?

Don’t worry, Kamilé, he reassured her, though his harsh tone was anything but. Just stay by me, don’t get too close.

B-but you talked…

Yeah, I know. I’ll handle this by myself. He understood what she had meant—if he had talked, something must be wrong, terribly wrong, something that only he could fix. And she felt guilty for admitting it, but for the first time ever…she didn’t think he could fix everything. She felt danger, and wanted to turn and run, NOW.

“You need to give it back,” Everan repeated, slowly and clearly. Now it was he who was talking down to this scary woman. “If you give it to me, I wouldn’t mind doing it myself.”

Everan held out his hand and opened his fingers, in a slow, careful sort of way, looking directly into the woman’s eyes without blinking at all. If she was offended by him, she didn’t show it.

“Quite determined, aren’t you?” Her voice was still unnaturally genial and sweet. “Tell me, boy, what’s your name?”

A thin line slashed between Everan’s eyebrows at the word “boy,” but he said nothing. What he said was, “It doesn’t matter. That needs to go back to the Elders right away.”

The woman smiled and gave a faint little half-laugh. “Well,” she said clearly, as if she was talking to someone not too bright, “my name is Tyrranen, and I’m from Variah. It’s very nice to meet you.” They could see the lie behind the glittering teeth. “So, now that we know each other, you can trust me, can’t you? I promise I’ll go right now and give this to your leaders. Okay?”

The daring woman actually reached out a hand to ruffle Everan’s hair, but before she got within three inches of him he grabbed her wrist with lightning speed and twisted it hard. The woman’s—Tyrranen’s—breath left her mouth in a small gasp, as did Kamilé’s, but before her arm could snap, Everan let go.

“Touch me again and I’ll break your arm off,” he snarled. Kamilé stared at him; was this really her Everan? Or someone else? “Last chance,” he added, extending his palm again. “Give it to me, now.”

Tyrranen’s lips curved in a scornful sneer, and what happened next happened very quickly—she grabbed Everan’s outstretched arm, digging into it with crimson nails, and threw him forcefully into the street behind her, lashing out with her other fist, and then Everan was sprawled on the ground, and when he sat up again a few seconds later, he was staring in complete shock at his outstretched hand, covered in blood from his lip—he’d never seen his own blood before.

“Everan!” Kamilé screamed, running over to help, but Tyrranen shoved a surprisingly strong arm into her stomach, nearly knocking the breath out of her.

“Your last chance, boy,” she hissed, watching him struggle to his knees and then to his feet, a little dizzy from the fall. “Get out of my way now and I won’t have to hurt you.”

The shock was now gone from Everan’s slightly pale face, the cool defiance returned. He shot back something even Kamilé wouldn’t have dared to repeat—judging by the woman’s expression, she didn’t understand him, but she didn’t need that to know that she was being both defied and insulted. It didn’t sit too well with her.

“You dare talk to me that way?” She stared down at him, thrusting out her hand again. “To a sorceress, and your queen? How dare you…”

“There are no queens in Ametris,” Everan informed her scornfully, though keeping his eyes on her outstretched hand, fingers curved like claws. “Or sorceresses, whatever those are.”

Tyrranen gave forth a short laugh, and then something happened to her hand…first a few sparks, then actual flames flared from the tips of her fingers all on their own, a darkish red color, and before they had time to blink, a small fireball of red sparks was pointing right at Everan, resting between her sharp nails. She smiled nastily as she saw the look of fear, dread, and surprise on Everan’s face, accompanied by a strange, scrutinizing look, as if trying to remember where he’d seen that before.

“You don’t know what this is, do you?” she said softly. “I don’t suppose you would. You’re too young, and you’re still in this place, so you haven’t been there yet. Don’t try to be something you aren’t.”

Everan said nothing, cold fury etched in every furrow of his eyebrows, anger lighting up his eyes.

“Run away, right now,” she continued, “and I won’t have to kill you. I would hate to be you if you refuse.”

Kamilé was scared almost out of her mind…she was going to hurt Everan, even kill him, and Everan wasn’t going to back down…he wouldn’t run away, even if it cost him his life…she had to do something…but with the woman’s arm holding her back, she would have trouble rescuing him…so, in the pause between her ultimatum and her fatal blow, Kamilé did the only thing she could do—she bit down hard on Tyrranen’s arm.
The sorceress shrieked with fury, jerking Kamilé off and hitting her hard on the side of the head, so hard that bright lights popped up in front of her vision…they cleared just in time for another furious screech and a triumphant Everan holding the Heart of Ametris, and Tyrranen was limping slightly, Everan’s toe-print on her knee, which was about as high as he could reach.

Kamilé ran over to help, but then several things happened in quick succession—Tyrranen screamed with pure rage and took a fire-filled swipe at Everan, who ducked; and then, Kamilé found the Heart of Ametris in her hands. Her fingers tingled from where she had caught it…she stared at it…The sorceress turned on her now, swinging her arm back and making a violent gesture like she was going to hit her…and Kamilé’s eyes widened as she saw a burst of flame coming right at her. Without even thinking about it, all her cognitive powers focused on squeaking in fear and staring at the fire heading towards her face, she raised her hands to protect herself, the Heart still clutched firmly between them.

The fire hit the Heart dead center, but it did not dissipate, or catch fire, or even bounce off…the Heart soaked it up, swallowing it hungrily, and glowed a faint, then stronger red. The power inside it grew and grew, the circle growing hot under Kamilé’s fingers, and she panicked, eyes huge and terrified, and tried to toss it away. But it didn’t really work like that…instead, only one hand let go, and the Heart jerked forcefully in her other, forcing a glowing red-orange beam of fire to arch from it high over their heads…they all watched it, horror-struck, and heard dozens of people scream as it rose, a brilliant glowing meteor, and started to fall…it would have landed right in the middle of the river had not something intercepted it…

…That something was a thick branch of the Great Tree.

Kamilé screamed as the fire caught, eating hungrily along the branch, lighting up the dark night sky like a nighttime sun, black smoke rising to the heavens, and the sound of roaring flame filled the air along with the panicked shouts of the people packed in the square, the sound of pounding feet as they all turned to run, yelling, screaming, crying, someone roaring orders into the crowd, telling them to run east as fast and as far as they could. People in houses heard the noise, looked outside, and saw a huge portion of the giant tree engulfed in flame, sinister red and orange and sickly yellow edged in black from the smoke; they shouted, grabbed their children, and ran for it, leaving their doors wide open and the streets in turmoil.

Elves hate fire. No races really like it, save the more robust dwarves and some pyromaniac humans—it will scare anyone, up close and very big and hot. Merpeople will dry out and suffocate long before any flame touches them, even when transformed. But elves hate it. They fear it and respect its power, but it is every single elf’s number one most despised thing ever created. Open flame is any red-blooded elf’s true enemy—flame consumes trees, hurts and kills without mercy, is greedy and lustful and gluttonous, will never stop eating until stopped by the live-giving water. So it is understandable that every single one was panicking, running, and screaming, cursing flame as they evacuated as fast as their feet could carry them. They disappeared into the forest—some of them would never emerge again.

The fire was consuming the Great Tree with savage, ravenous ease, vicious and cruel and such a horrible sin against the deities that all Kamilé and Everan could do was stare in horror and shock, eyes wide, mirroring the flame in the reflective silver.

Oh…no…was all Kamilé could think. Oh…my…gods…

Kamilé, we’ve gotta help! Everan said, jerking her out of her daze. Come on!

But it wasn’t going to be that simple; as Everan ran past her, presumably to go put out the fire all on his own, a strong, sharp-nailed hand dug into Kamilé’s shoulder, spun her around, and wrapped around her neck. “The Heart!” Tyrranen’s voice shouted, tightening her grip around Kamilé’s throat. “Give it to me!”

Kamilé choked, kicking her legs feebly, suspended two feet off the ground; she found her hands pulling on the sorceress’s own, empty of any heart large or small…and then Tyrranen dropped her with another shout of rage, and she saw from her position, collapsed on the ground, that she was glaring at Everan, who was staring at the Heart, which he’d stolen somehow from Kamilé earlier. He looked up, from the Heart to the furious Tyrranen, and grinned—it was a fatal mistake.

With a wordless shout, the sorceress threw back her arm as if she was going to punch him, and went through the motions of slamming her fist into his chest…her fist never touched him, but in mid-swing dark purple flame started to gather in her fingers, and now a concentrated sphere of it was shooting right for Everan…he had time for a surprised gasp, the purple light reflecting in his widening eyes, before it hit him square in the chest.

The force of the blow drove him off his feet, knocking him powerfully back, but he never hit the ground. Right in midair, he simply disappeared, dropping into a hole in space, and all Kamilé knew of him now was the lingering memory of the surprise, fear, and pain commuted to her through their mental contact.

She slowly rose to her feet, staring at the place where he had been, heart pounding, hands shaking, before the pain crushed her chest and constricted her lungs, forcing one heartbroken scream after another out of her mouth:

“EVERAN! EVERAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!”

Hot tears poured down her face as she screamed until she was about to pass out, but it was no use.

Everan was gone.

“Good riddance,” Tyrranen spat, and then she threw back her head and laughed.