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Raemos could almost feel the conspicuousness of his absence as a physical pressure as he walked away from the still and quiet town and made his way up the hill. He knew that the priestess had told him that he should attend the service, that this was a great honor. He knew all but a few Guardians were attending, and that the rest had watch duty.

So did he: he was watching the farm and pasture lands, as he often did, and it was just as important as the roads and docks, where the others were. He was, however, the only one that had volunteered for the task.

He did not want to go to the service, important though it was, and he did not want to answer any questions about it from his colleagues – not just yet. He was already uncomfortable in the sermons he did attend, and those were more speech than religion.

This, though, was a service given by a general of the Oblivionite army itself, and would at the very least be an attempt to assure the town that it had been a priority for Obsidian City all along. That they were still in Soudana's fold. Or... something. Although this meant that the dark nation was finally paying attention to the honorable little town (attention which meant aid, support, and assistance), it also meant a lot of references and worship of Soudana. There would also be slanderous lies about the Orderites and their leader, Aevah Avi, and the goddess of light herself. Raemos could not abide that. He could not abide any of it. And so, in the interests of politics and in the name of the Guild he served, he was recusing himself.

Otherwise the general would find his blade at his throat.

He touched the symbol of Seren at his neck, safely hidden beneath his uniform. At least the farmlands had the privacy he needed to pray to his goddess, away from the judgment and prejudice (understandable, he supposed) of the townsfolk.

He had often asked her forgiveness for speaking to the priestess and listening to her sermons, and he knew – in his heart – that she did forgive him. He had, after all, returned to her brilliance, even after hearing the words of her enemy.

He stood in the fields and, amidst the Sheron, recited a prayer to her before taking up his post at the edge of the forest.

It was a quiet post, ever since they had dealt with the vermin, and a great place for thinking. He wondered when he would be sent home – he wasn't sure whether to wish it to be soon or not. It wasn't terrible here – there were people he knew and he was doing good work. But he missed his homeland, and his parents, and Orderites in general, and going home would be a nice change from all of this...

But to leave Raleigh and Cora, and the other friends he had made in the town behind felt odd. It was not a decision he wanted to make yet.

He leaned against the fence. It had been nearly three months now that he had been sent here, though. That was a long time. When did long become too long? When did too long become 'like home?'

A whisper in his ear, too faint to make out.

He turned to look, warily, into the trees.

Nothing... he thought, Just a trick of the mind.

Something laughed nearby, and he looked towards it.

Nothing

One sound with nothing could easily be nothing. Two sounds was suspicious.

Another whisper.

Three sounds was worrying.

“Come out!” he called, drawing his wand and sliding off the fence into a smooth combat stance.

Another giggle, like a child's, erupted nearby, and then another, until there was a whole flock of laughing nothingness.

Raemos grit his teeth, uneasy. “Show yourself.”

And then, with a soft pop, a light appeared, flickering like a flame. Like some sort of bizarre forest fire, more appeared in turn, dancing around him in a multitude of brightnesses. Raemos could swear that, amidst the strange, floating flames, he could see faces, gleefully laughing at his fear.

Come with us! they whispered, dancing away into the woods. Raemos knew he should not follow them, but – as they giggled and waited for him, dancing at the forest's edge – he decided that, if they were leading him into danger, it would be good to deal with them and the danger before someone else was lured in. He drew his sword, switching his wand to his right hand, and, with caution, followed the lights as they led him ahead.

It was hard to keep track of where he was in the forest. The whispering lights were so dazzling, confusing, and strange that it was hard to keep his sense of direction as he followed them.

A sense of dread surged over him and he tightened his grip, trusting his instincts to tell him that this was the trap he had been expecting. The wispy lights laughed again, spreading throughout a clearing and lighting it clearly, including the dragon that lay, patient and smug, within it.

It was a huge monster, its scales absorbing the light like obsidian. It's eyes were baleful and bemused in the fell light of the wisps.

It rumbled something unintelligable and cruel but definitely dragonic and rose to its feet, stretching it's massive body languidly, as if Raemos was nothing to be concerned about. Raemos grit his teeth against the terror that welled up inside of him. His instincts told him to run, but if he ran, then the dragon would remain, hunting and killing sheron and townsfolk alike. As a Guardian, Raemos could not allow it to exist anymore, which meant that he had to fight it, even if it meant his death.

He had never been up against something as potent as a Diabi dragon before, not since he was a child and had been assaulted by a pack of Aedaun dragons. He was alone, as well, in a darkened forest that screamed for blood. He knew he had reason to fear, and when it roared at him – challenging, mocking – he knew he had to disregard his fear entirely. It had to be vanquished, and he could not run.

So, he charged right for it, sword flashing bright with the magic he had imbued into it so long ago before being eclipsed by the great bulk of the dragon.

The beast screamed and thrashed, it's dark, steaming blood spattering onto Raemos' face before he was pummelled away by a swat of the dragon's great paw. His sword remained inside the dragon, a fang of light, before it slid out with a wet sound, clattering to the ground in a gout of blood.

The dragon snarled at him, flicking away the stained sword and speaking more of its foul, unintelligable dragonic. Every word it spoke, even lazily, was a word of power, and Raemos knew it had no intention of making itself understood to magescian ears.

Raemos tried to roll away and return to his feet, to fight it more, but he was pinned. The dragon lightly pressed on his chest with it's paw, it's claws forming the bars of a cage that Raemos could not roll out of.
It's gargantuan face came very close to his own, it's great, cruel eyes surveying him with savage amusement. It's breath stank of carrion and blood and saliva, the smell of doom.

It tilted it's head from side to side, scrutinizing him as it's other claw gently stroked down the side of Raemos's cheek. Then, delicately, the great beast placed it's jaws around Raemos's head.

Perhaps he had a chance to escape before the dragon tore off his head... perhaps not. Either way, his magic was having none of this: it needed him alive. It thrashed against the careful chains of control he had made for it and he freed it. Wild and gleefully ferocious, his magic poured out of him, spreading throughout the clearing, extinguishing any of the wisp lights that could not escape its tide. It surged upward out of him, slamming into the dragon as a pillar of solid shadows.

The dragon roared, surprised, and Raemos took the oppurtunity to slip out from under its claws, scrambling for his sword. His magic called on him to shape it into something that could kill, and he did: a few waves of his hand and the Diabi dragon was faced with it's mirror image, made of shadows, crackling with the malicious energy of the blood moon.

Raemos's magic roared silently at the surprised dragon, who swiped at it with an offended claw. The dragon's claws passed through the gelatinous shadows of the magic beast. Raemos magic laughed, always silent, and leaped onto the dragon with all of its crushing pressure and with – almost – its own will.

Through the tether that bound his churning shadow to the solid monster of magic, he could feel his power's cruel glee as the dragon was crushed beneath it's mass, pressed into the ground by pure, angry, cruel force.

But of course, it was a Diabi dragon, a master of the very dark magic that sought to destroy it.

Raemos pulled the sword from the ground just as the dragon uttered a few unintelligably cruel words, words that commanded and shattered his magic. It limped back to him, returning to him like a tide, and no longer pinned the beast.

The dragon shook it's head and murmured, stretching it's long back and turning towards him. Raemos almost thought it was mocking him – the horrible sounds it made could almost be laughter. Raemos did not wait for it to finish laughing at him though, and he darted, his sword stained but shining anew. He cut deep into it's breast as it took in breath for another taunt.

It choked, it's eyes widening as Raemos pulled the sword back with a sickening, sucking squelch of the beast's upset lungs.

Raemos slashed again, his sword biting into the back of the dragon's foreleg and striking the harsh resistance of bone. This time, it's retaliation missed as Raemos dissolved into his own shadow, reappearing several feet away, far beyond the afterimage of the dragon's claws.

The beast staggered, bleeding now, and the magic within Raemos, recovering from it's 'defeat', squealed in glee at the dark wetness that soaked the ground beneath the dragon. The dragon noticed it too. Enraged, no longer playing with its toy, it roared, and the dark liquid flowed around it, disobeying all laws but magic, cloaked it in liquid power.

Raemos knew that to close in again would be dangerous for him, so he gathered himself and, focusing, slashed at the air.

The runes on the sword gleamed bright as he forced a physical slashing force of magic from the blade to the dragon. The magic, sharp with a blade of light magic and propelled forth by darkness, cut into th the dragon. It bit deep, the magic searing through the muscles of the dragon's shoulder. It's wing hung, limp and painful, as it charged at Raemos.

It was incredibly fast for such a large beast, and it was only through pure luck that Raemos dodged, slicing quickly at the dragon's side before assessing the situation. His brain craved strategy, a luxury the dragon would not allow as his luck, finally, ran out.

The dragon's tail lashed back, and he felt the wind knocked out of him as he crashed to the ground. The force of the dragon's tree-toppling tail made his bones shriek and shiver in its wake. They did not break – another stroke of luck – but he felt scythe-like talons sink into the flesh of his arm.

It would finish him, and he would not escape.

He shrieked in pain and, acting purely on will alone, kicked the dragon in the face, surprising the beast and loosening its grip on him. It bought him enough time to stand up, and just enough – just barely enough – to slash the dragon in the face before his arm pained him and he could only clutch at it, holding back his blood and his screams.

The sword had hit home: the dragon's eye was a mess of humor and blood and it howled, flailing. It's jaws open to receive him, its head crashing down, hoping to crush or impale the insolent prey beneath it's bulk.

But it only managed to destroy itself upon Raemos's blade.

He had held upright in both hands in the hopes of stabbing it, though he had been aiming for a blow to it's chest as it reared into the air. The blade, intended for the dragons heart, pieced the head instead, it's tip caught within it's brain.

The dragon gurgled, shuddered, and died. It collapsed, its full weight crushing Raemos to the ground. He felt his ribs grind against themselves, and cried out in pain as the weight suddenly lifted, the dragon's body nothing more than ash.

He lay there, gasping, for a moment before he staggered to his feet, collected the soul, and limped, pained, back towards the pasturelands, the hill, and the village beyond...

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