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Blood poured from both the vacant eye socket, as well as the whole eye. Sun could never shed any real tears, but extreme stress had to be released somehow.

"Vahn...you never really understood, did you?" It was a halfhearted whisper, something that sounded a lot like the old Sun, somewhat sad. His form began to relax, the beating against his mind receeding with the power that fed it gone.

Shock kept the pain away for now, and he was drifting.

"I'm not sure...you ever will." Silence and jilted breathing, Sunstrike had passed out.

The tropical tree's gently swayed in the breeze, and a few animals squawked nearby.

Mary had gotten her garden at the price of Sunstrike's newly returned, and easily taken, godhood.

"You... don't understand."

He slowly raised himself off his knees.

"I don't... expect anyone to understand..."

His chin and left cheek was stained with blood, even as he stumbled backward a bit.

"That portal... take him and go. There are people waiting on the other side."

He gripped the end of his Fang and began moving away. Guldor had nto been completely moved... only a portion of it had been forcibly severed from the main continent and moved across an entire geological fault so that it was actually in warmer climate.

Guldor was still back there.... and Vahn was headed there.

His right hand remained clutched shut, even as he continued walking away.

What.... am I meant to do.

And he would be gone.

In the frozen forests of the tundra Reinhart sat still, his back rested on one of the main trees, his eyes fixed on the snowy ground. Red locks of hair hung over his face as he drew what looked like scribbles over the snow. Somewhat passive the expression on his face showed he was lost in his 'scribbling' as he sat unaffected by the cold. Breaths clearly visible he would scribble, erase, then scribble again. One leg bent upward, his arm rested over it hanging losely in the air with other bent somewhat around it.

The scribbles at his side came and went until he drew one he came to remember and recognize. Looking it over for a few short moments he lifted his head to the dark sky, wondering, questioning himself if he'd made the right choice. Right or wrong he was already in this place, why turn back now? Standing from his seated position his eyes fixed forward staring at nothing in particualr. He brought his hand up to his face then placed the tip of his index finger over his canine.

Biting down he tore into his flesh, the blood instantly stained his lip, as well as the snow at his feet. He relaxed his hand at his side, te blood dripping onto the ground, he closed his eyes. Whatever he was scribbling, whatever scriblbe he chose he now wrote it into the air infront of him with his bloodied finger. The symbols stuck in th air as if he were smearing his blood over paper. To anyone it may've looked like a two sentences, to him however it looked like two words.

Upon completion he drew what some may call a rune over the letters or words he stuck to the air. When the entire piece was brought together it shined a dull red, that's when he opened his eyes.

"Thank you."

Said the person now standing between himself and the rune/scribble.

"...You're welcome."

Said Reinhart as the light faded away along with what he'd drawn.

The blue crystal icycles danced at the slightest light inside the cave filling it with the sort of display one would expect only at night. And yet with a sort of glimmering blue-white beauty that put the night sky to shame.

The wind blew like against the crystalline formations like wind chimes. A silent and yet beautiful melody filled this cave making it all together magical. It was as if it was plucked from another world all together and placed at the mouth of this snowed over cave.

A chilled and numb left hand reached up the left side of his face and tapped an eye patch letting it fall to the floor. Maximos did as he was told.

Behind him, a scarred village followed, silent and shivering in the icy chill. He was covered in leather and fur, and was determined to lead the man that paid him in rubies to his destination.

See with eyes unclouded.

Thats what she said.

Follow the sight of her undying song.

A whispy trail of spirits mesmerized by music unheard in the living world. They danced in the snow, to beats that made no sound and through flakes that simply were not cold, but illusionary. Spirit World was dead. Snow was just a faux after image that the denizens of this clung to to remind them of lives lost.

This field, infested with Warg and Snow Yeti was practically a graveyard. Every life here knew death, and avoided it like the plague. Spirits skittered off as Maximos had approached. But the braver dances led him to his final destination, directly along a magical leyline buried in the snow, only visible as the snow gave way to ice up ahead.

Dis de right plece?

Maximos smirked, watching the leyline splinter up ahead into a spiderweb of paths all across the cave.

Definitely.


There was a voice resounding off these walls, echoing off of ice. It was enchanting, intoxicating, and Maximos found himself draw to it as if a leash was tied around his very soul.

His footfalls made crunches in the snow as he walked forward, his hand hands running along the ice walls. Skeletons and half frozen warriors and travelers were seen scattered along the ground, but the Shadow paid no heed.

What de ye seek in souch a dyead plece?

The guide asked, fear blatant on his tone. He responded with stillness and amusement.

If she cant tell me, we're in the wrong cave.

The guide seemed unsettled by that answer. And unsettled more by the constant chill up his spine that he was certain was not entirely the cave. It did not take him very long to realize this cave was a maze, and those drawn in by this haunting voice were lost as it echoed off of the walls. Lost, and dead. They still haunted this place. While through one eye Maximos may have seen the endless procession of paths and ice, through the other Maximos saw he was traveling in a herd, a crowd. And as he passed through the crowd of ghosts divided.

He entered a large nexus room of tunnels filled with chatting and lost spirits, and he stopped. His guide, two feet shorter than the Shadow just looked around confused. This room was the same as the others no?

Why'rr we--

And Maximos spoke. To him this room was alive, despite the multitude of spirits who's voices he had followed, the leylines pooled in this room. It was a place of power. A weak point in the twilight.

Excuse me...

The room suddenly seemed to notice him. Spirits of a thousand time lines and ages turned to face Maximos. They stared blankly at him, wondering if he was really addressing them, and shocked each in turn as he looked them clearly in the eyes, with his eye. And then finally one approached, a little girl holding a beaten teddy bear wearing little more than a sack cloth. Her face transparent, her skin white as her ghostly hair. She opened her mouth to speak.

But there had been such a long pause the guide, believed Maximos musth have been talking to him.

'Jes?

He said.

Jes...

Her tiny voice said...what luck he should pick her name. It scared her, she retreated behind her life sized bear. Maximos spun on his heel to the guide.

Shhh!

Ghosts did not see flesh. They reacted to emotion. A scared member of there flock, an annoyed Reaper. They stepped forward. There emotion gave them power in a place like this, power gave them form. And soon, the guide was huddled behind the largest chunk of ice he could find as a small village worth of spirits seemed to step from the nothing into existence. Each pale and white, and mostly transparent, but not at all pleased.

Maximos spun back, both hands up.

Easy my friends. I mean the girl no harm.

They seemed suspicious still. Maximos grinned from ear to ear, in a warmth even this cave couldnt mask.

I'm off the clock.

He said, chuckling a bit to himself. Happiness, the ghosts seemed eased. Girlish laughter came from the middle of the crowd. The dead parted as a little stepped forward, and --

They're going to kill us all!

The guide shouted drawing a blade and swinging it around in front of him like it meant something. Maximos laughed, shouting back over his shoulder.

Relax! If they disliked us that badly, you think they'd make us join them?

Scared. And now stupid, the guide lowered his blade, keeping it in a ready to draw state. And Maximos kneeled, to about little girl height.

Jes...

He said softly, flipping a pack around and fishing through it.

I brought you this. Its from your mommy and daddy.

And the Shadow pulled out a small snow white hooded cloak. The little girl peeked out from a set of strong ghostly legs and cautiously stepped forward. She curtsied and then reached upwards. Maximos brought the cloak down, and around and tied it around her neck, where it hung. Tangible in a place like this .

Now Jes.

She nodded.

Do you think...you can bring me and my friend to the source of that lovely voice.

S'utiful!

Excitedly Jes nodded, and danced around through the crowd bringing many a smile, then ran at the guide with an amused grin and was immediately stabbed through the face. Not there was no gore or tragedy, merely a tangible blade poking through ethereal energy with no effect. Jes looked confused at Maximos who shook his, stood up and walked over.

Now that was rude sir. She girl is going to guide us.

Into oblivion!

No...Oblivion is much warmer, we're only going to see the Sight Witch.

He leaned forward, grabbing the mans blade in his index and middle finger, and snapping it off just above the hilt.

None of that. Lets go.

The guide looked at his blade. Then Maximos. Then Jes, both of which had taken to walking away, with Jes guiding Maximos by the hand. He sighed, and followed.

Minutes, hours. There was no telling. Only that Jes skipped and hummed and the guide made sport of periodically asking; "Are you sure she doesnt like you so much she's leading you to death?". And Maximos cleanly returning, "No Death is off today".

Very soon, they were at the grand theatre. A stage hewn of ice with matching seats and a curtain. Jes squeezed Maximos' hand and tugged him down for a whisper and gently said.

She wont see him...

Maximos stopped at the seats and looked back to the guide, fishing in his jacket pocket and tossing him a sapphire the size of a quarter.

Here you go. I wont be coming back for quite some time. Jes will guide you to the door.

The shadow might regard that in the week since this date he had never seen that guide again. The music increased, it sung to Maximos. He felt hands caressing his cheeks in the front roar. He felt his spirits soar and crash. And then the curtain was drawn back to reveal a block of ice. A woman was trapped within, streams of white silk covering her dignity. Her face, upper arms, and legs save for one bent knee were free, giving her the appearance of a descending frozen angel. Maximos stood at the edge of the stage, directly in her range.

You...

Her voice spoke on the physical and spiritual. Her free arm reached out the shadow.

You seek the truth...

She said, running an icey blue hand down the right side of his face, hovering her palm over his right eye.

...you seek to see that which is, and will, and has...

Her eyes were not one color, they were many. A countless myriad of scenes flashing from one to another, to another, no order, just mayhem and chaos.

I seek vision...

You havent the strength.

Maximos said and she rebuttled, raising his hand up to touch the side of her face. His eyes instantly ignited. A bead of black tear rolled down his cheek as a thousand images reflected off the walls. Death. Life. The goings on in the world now, later, and to yet to come. And none of it made sense. And yet, as a strain crossed over the shadows face, the images filtered, and slowed. It refined and restrained. And soon only a clear vision of a young woman in white garb, a being called a which and frozen forever away as such was visible.

The mind is a stronger weapon than any steel...

She smiled shyly. An answer as loud as any word, if one could see it.

Maximos set his pack on the ground. It had food rations for months, a sleeping bag, and devices for making fire and boiling water. Before he left, he would be able to see.

Why do you hunt that man? He's good to us...brings us friends...and flowers...

He shook his hooded head side to side, as if brushing off the notion entirely.

I dont hunt him, he's a friend. A very hard to find friend.

Maximos smiled, reaching his right hand out to pat the spirits shoulder. His left would have simply passed right through, but a gentle blue glow along the ghosts arm showed that he felt the contact, and was relieved by it.

Thank you for your help old man, rest in peace.

His hand passed clean through the ghost, dispersing its image like a hand passing through water might disperse a reflection. Strands of light blue and dull white swirled around Maximos' palm before he clenched a fist and they vanished entirely.

The ghost could consider itself reaped. In a days time it would find itself being judged and weighed, and likely enjoying tea in its chosen afterlife having forgotten the cold of its death entirely.

Maximos however, still had a journey to make.

The Reaper found spirits were attracted to areas of death like moths to the flare. Something about a life being snatched to unlife left a mark that let them touch or taste what it was like to be around said dead thing. Flowers. Small insects, the like.

And so he simply followed the trail, Reaping as he traveled, setting souls free, even as the trek moved uphill and through waves and waves of white. Until finally he found it. Or him. The source of his little quest.

He reached an arm out, grabbing on last soul as he climbed up at the man, tugging him back by the shoulder, as the ethereal figure turned around his image too dispersed and his soul was departed. In the silence of solitude, Maximos spoke.

Your a very hard man to find, you know it?

He laughed a bit, coming up beside his friend and turning to face him. His right eye white, and brilliantly bright, like a small white torch light.

But if you know how and where to look, you make a serious mess in your wake.

I'd say the spirits agree.

He said with a grin, pulling back his hood. He could take the cold, he just preferred to work in uniform. Death needed to remain a hooded figure, not a man with mismatched eyes and spiky blue hair. Hair which he ran a hand through as Reinhart questioned him.

Please, just Maximos, or better yet Max, that seems to have become popular lately.

He moved closer to the rock, choosing to stand as his eyes followed Reinharts up and examined the sky.

I suppose, I can cut to the chase. My friend...I need your help. In...sights...only you can give me.

He smirked and gestured a sort of waving gesture with his right hand, brushing away something.

I'll move past the cryptic speech. I noticed something in your eye...an ability I'd never seen before.

He moved to sit beside his friend, it was a large rock.

It looked almost as if your gaze projected fear into the person who met it. Fear not even there own...

That was the best way he could describe it, with no real understanding of the ability and so he chucked on at the end.

At least thats how it appeared. Am I warm?

Perfect sense.

Maximos said with a smile. He felt a weight, a pause, a suspicion and a doubt. He knew he had to say this, and this was the perfect time, but he didnt know how to say it. It almost felt wrong too, against the grain...though for the greater good.

He said it short, direct, and sweet.

Teach it to me.

And smiled innocently, from ear to ear.