The Great Library of the Fourth City was truly magnificent. It was an archive of books and scrolls; ancient and rare artefacts; art pieces; musical instruments and related materials. The tower was open to all Fourth City citizens and visitors, all but the very top floor.

The city was once a simple place, its people average in every way possible. The library had been created in order to give the people a purpose, an education. Many citizens became scholars, exploring the depths of their chosen area of expertise, made possible by the expansive archive. The archive itself was made possible due to the large population of researchers, collectors and explorers who provided the material for the library. These contributors travelled the world to document new or rare knowledge, find incomplete series of books or scrolls, or trade for rare or educational items and artefacts. All were brought back to the tower, catalogued, and then stored on the appropriate floors.

Kilian was the quiet curator of the library and Guardian of the Fourth City. His people looked to him as a teacher and a leader. The first floor of the tower acted as a lecture hall, but was also used to hold court, to listen to the wants and needs of those the Guardian protected.

As of late, Kilian had met with hundreds of the city residents who brought concerns over the increase of refugees to the Fourth City. Kilian was well aware of the issue, his research time had been dedicated to the problem entirely. It was well known now that the Guardians to the First, Second, Third and Fifth Cities had been lost, and the consequence of the Guardian's Ritual not being performed had slowly come to light.

The Second City was the first to fall from its grace. Adam of the Storm had held another educated city, but the people were not able to cure the disease that spread so quickly after the death of their Guardian. All but a few districts of the Second City remained alive, though their time would soon pass.

The First City fell next. Emrick the Immortal had vanished, although his death was unconfirmed. None-the-less, the ritual had not been performed. Refugees from the First City who had travelled to the Fourth, brought with them terrifying stories. Creatures never seen before in the wild had begun to inhabit the city. Large leathern winged beasts, dark of colour and red of eye, nested in the Guardian's Tower. Each night they would swoop down into the city and take unexpected men and women into the sky and back to the tower, though it was not known if this was for food or something else. When the people began hiding more and more in their houses, the creatures began to break through the sandstone walls, taking people directly from their homes. Giant rats and black toothed cats had also appeared, finding their way into homes and stores, eating and defiling food and grain, attacking pets and children. The stories were yet to be confirmed by an objective source.

The Third City, The Trader's Paradise or the Blue Pearl to some, had supposedly turned red with its people's blood. A madness took the city, its people had turned on each other and began to slay one another. Friend or foe, brother or sister, parent or child, no one was safe from anyone else. Those who found themselves leaving for the Fourth City soon turned against each other on the roads, those who did happen to make it to their destination began to turn on the peaceful citizens of the Fourth City, and were soon put to death because of it. All refugees from the Third City were then prohibited from entering. Giles the Prideful, as far as the stories went, had not died. But all the same, he did not perform the ritual any longer.

The Fifth City had never performed its ritual since Drake of the Emerald Flame had taken reign. Kilian had tried numerous times to convince the man to perform the duty he had been elevated to, but failed. The city had not seemed to particularly suffer without the ritual's performance, though the city was already a shambles under Drake's rule.

Kilian was left alone, the only Guardian performing his nightly duty. He had a list of candidates that he would consider sending to the other cities as new Guardians, though careful consideration was needed. He had once replaced one Guardian with Drake, in order to gain the use of his army, but Drake did not entirely give himself up to Kilian's authority. He would have to ensure that more obedient underlings were chosen, and they would have to be chosen soon, to restore the other cities to normality.

The quiet Guardian shuddered to think what would happen if the Fourth City lost him. How would his people suffer? How would the world suffer if all five cities fell? The outcome was unknown, the reason for the Guardian's Ritual was unknown, but Kilian was finding reason to fear a total loss. With each city's downfall, the world edged towards darkness. The other cities must be restored.

No amount of investigation had helped Kilian understand where Emrick and Giles had gone, or if they were dead or not. He did learn about Drake's death by the hands of his own people. They had rebelled against the Mage and his military, taking up a new leader who in only a few days defeated one of the most deadly armies known. This new leader had left the city behind however, allowing it to fall into chaos.

Kilian did consider whether this other man had removed Emrick and Giles from power, though his methods of waging war were not apparent within the First and Third Cities, as they were in the Fifth. It was a weak theory, but the only one he had.

This day Kilian was holding court, the library was empty apart from the first floor. The large hall was filled with three levels of bookcases on the walls, and tables and chairs for studying at were dotted around the perimeter. A stair lead up and down the tower at one end of the room, and a large door stood on the other, the main entrance to The Great Library. Kilian sat at a high seat in front of the stair, two scribes sat at desks in front of him with quills and bound parchment, taking note of the proceedings. The Guardian wore a blue-grey suit with a white ruffled shirt, under a deep blue coat with deep cuffs. The coat was lined with silver and gold trim. His skin was tanned, hair black, with deep purple or blue eyes depending on the quality of light. Across the opposite wall, at the door, waited a large number of people, some as an audience, others as petitioners. On call the petitioners would take the floor and speak before Kilian, seeking his advice and help.

There was chatter in the room, but it soon fell silent when a the herald opened court. A red suited man standing at the side of Kilian. 'All silent for Kilian the Learned, Guardian of the Fourth City!'

'Thank you.' Kilian spoke softly, his voice a rasp. The people at the far side of the room had to strain to hear him. 'Send forth the first petitioner.'

'Clidas Merryweather, step forth!' The herald commanded.

A tall man, dressed in black leathers and a red cloak clasped over his shoulders using a silver star, stepped forward out of the audience. He was old, perhaps close to sixty years, maybe more, but his head of black hair with only a spattering a grey above the ears did well to hide his age. He spoke strongly, in contrast to Kilian's weak voice. 'My Lord Guardian.' He began. 'I come baring ill news.' He paused as if waiting for a reply, though none came, so he quickly continued. 'I trade textiles to the farming towns and villages outside of the First City in exchange for food to bring back to our great home the Fourth City. This has always posed a dangerous journey to caravans that must pass the Fifth City, but it has become somewhat more... troubling, as of late.' Clidas swallowed deep and spoke on. The seated men in front of him scribbled into their books, recording every word he spoke. 'We have come across abandoned dead, those left on battlefields that have spread out onto the trade routes past the Fifth City. We have seen men... Eating the dead.'

'Not men, demons!' A gruff voice echoed from the audience.

The herald barked in reply. 'Silence! Your turn will come.'

Clidas Merryweather looked back into the crowd, annoyed. 'Some say demons, yes, but my employees say men. Either way, men eat the flesh of other men, dead soldiers, and when the flesh is bitten into, the dead come alive again.' Sounds of disbelief came from the crowd, even a laugh or two. 'They live again and die a second time, in agony until eaten.' The tall trader wiped his brow with his sleeve. 'My men now refuse to travel those roads any more, refusing to pass the Fifth City. Some have not returned from previous journeys at all. They have kept my supplies, my carriages and my horses. My Lord Guardian, can nothing be done?'

Kilian sucked in a breath. 'It would be prudent to first investigate these claims.' His voice was difficult to hear, the audience listened intently. 'However, I believe we have a witness to this disturbing claim of events in the audience. Speak.'

'Harry the...' The herald cleared his throat in distaste. '...the Goat Strangler, step forth!'

A large man, bald but bearded, wearing worn brown leather and ring mail, stepped forward from the audience and stood next to Clidas, who soon retreated back into the crowd. 'M'Lord Guardian, I'm 'Arry, if it please.'

'Yes yes, have your say.' Kilian returned.

'Well y'see M'Lord, we's been fighting in the Fifth City, after the rebellion. Nasty business, lots o' killing. Only where the dead lay, these creatures come along and start eatin' at the corpses. Not men as that skinny one says. It's true enough, they look like men. They have two legs and two arms, I's even seen a cock swinging between their legs now and then, though I wasn't looking on purpose, M'Lord. At the cocks that is.' Kilian sighed and rolled his eyes. 'Anyway M'Lord, they's naked as a whore and they look human, but me and my boys has been close enough to see what they really are.

'Their eyes is red as blood, their skin's as white as bone, not just pale, but deathly white M'Lord. Their fingers is too long to be a man's, and they has black claws. They're as bald as I am, but all over, not just their head. And when they eat the dead, the dead come back to life screamin' bloody murder! That's up until they been eatin' altogether, M'Lord. We's tried killing one or two of 'em, but they's as 'ard as stone. I even broke an axe over one of 'em. They don't seem to want to eat the living, so most just run off. But sometimes one will take a swipe at you, and those claws can rip through armour and flesh as if they was the same.'

'Clidas Merryweather says his men are too frightened to travel those roads, yet you seem rather less disturbed by these demons'. Kilian stated.

Harry answered. 'Well M'Lord, when you've witnessed the emerald flame, it's hard to be shocked by much.'

'Quite.' Kilian quietly regarded the man and his story, then spoke. 'There are many books in this library, some detailing the likes of monsters and demons, though we are told that these things no longer exist in the world. I will have my researchers study this issue, and then send a party to investigate the matter at the Fifth City.'

'Thank you M'Lord.' Harry replied.

'You say you are from the Fifth City, yes?' Kilian asked, awaiting no answer. 'Who was it that overthrew Drake, the Guardian?'

Harry answered quickly and proudly. 'The one the boys has been calling the Lightning Lord, M'Lord. We's fought along side 'im, a strong man, a good leader. I'm sure you would like 'im, he's the new Guardian too, he won that seat from old Drake, as the rules of the game permit.'

'Where is this Lightning Lord now?'

'Well M'Lord, the boys don't think he'll keep 'is place as the new Guardian. Instead he came 'ere with me and my band to the Fourth City.'

Kilian was shocked, but kept himself calm. 'He is here, now, in the Fourth City?'

'Yes M'Lord.'

He has come. Perhaps my worries were well founded. 'What is he planning to do here?'

'If it please M'Lord, he says he's conducting family business is all. Though none o' the boys know what family business he runs. Seems a queer thing for a warrior like 'im to be doing.'

'You may go.' Kilian commanded, coldly.

'Aye M'Lord, thank you M'Lord.' Harry the Goat Strangler bowed stiffly and returned to the audience.

The session ended after several small issues within the City were brought forward, all would be easily remedied. Kilian returned to his regular work, but with a nervousness sitting on his stomach. He was unsure of who this Lightning Lord was, and if he posed a threat. He would have had Harry bring the man to the Tower of the Guardian, but feared that it would be a mistake. Instead, he bided his time and waited.

Two days passed by before the Guardian of the Fourth City became at ease. He focused his time toward reading, allowing his assistants to deal with visitors to the library. He sat at a desk quietly studying an old tome, a book describing the qualities of crystals and their use in magic. It was an interesting read, so engrossing that time flew by quickly. When Kilian finally broke away from the pages, it was near time to perform the ritual.

Kilian walked to the top floor of the tower, up varnished wooden steps illuminated by the orange glow of candlelight from a candle holder in his hand. The top floor was a chamber housing cages full of white doves, racks of white robes and numerous tools, all associated with the Guardian's Ritual. The Guardian donned a white robe, took a single dove and placed it into a small carry cage, and with a satchel over his shoulder and the cage in hand, made his way to the rooftop.

The tower top was flat, white and seamless. Around the edge was a small white stoned wall of only two foot in height. At the centre was painted a black ring. Kilian opened the satchel and took out a red cloth, a small knife and a dark green chalk. The satchel, cloth and cage were left on the outside of the ring. Kilian used the chalk to write his name within the black ring and then replaced it into the satchel. He then took up the dove from its cage in his left hand and the knife in his right.

The sun was setting, the last of the light was golden and red. Kilian held the dove up, drowning it in the sunlight, and with a smooth motion he deftly stabbed and sliced through the bird. Its wings tried to flutter, but the lifeblood of the animal drained quickly, and all movement ceased in death. The blood poured from the creature and dripped onto the chalked name. Kilian wiped his foot across the floor and wiped the name away. The ritual was complete.

He paused to look across the city as it gave birth to twinkling firelight from its residents, wondering what would happen here if the ritual was never performed again. The reasons for the ritual may have been lost over time, but the affects of its halting were being seen in the other four cities. Kilian felt dread, he felt as if he was the last stand against something terrible.

The cloth was used to clean his hands and the blade, and then wipe up the blood from the white surface. Once done, Kilian returned to the lower tower to end his day with a drink and a book to read.

A new day, a new court, although there were very few people in need this day. Library duties proceeded as normal after only a morning of interruption, and Kilian was left to go about his work day as usual. Today a lecture had been planned, a reading and then discussion on the book Fredche's History.

An audience had gathered, fifty students sat on chairs arranged in front of Kilian, who stood behind a podium whilst reading. His eyes were on the book. '...The magic died when shadow was cast over Mari'in. King Odaryn III's push against the enemy was halted when his fire could no longer bring light against the foe. The front lines of the King's army were broken by the horde, who sent Screamers to wash over the good King's forces. Only through the use of messenger bird was the King able to win the day. Emrick of the First City received the call for help, and unhindered by the shadow was able to call a fire storm that all but wiped clean the battlefield of that dark enemy.'

Kilian looked up from the book and spoke to his audience. 'Fredche's History does not elaborate on the cause of Odaryn's loss of magic, only that the shadow was the reason. Near one hundred years later did an acceptable theory arise in the scroll written by the Guardian of the Second City of the time, Ferion of the Storm, in collaboration with Emrick of the First City.

'It was said that we as men are able to use magic through our connection to the natural world that surrounds us, the greatest source of power being the sun. The foe gained power through something darker, different, still unknown to us. Their power allowed them to cast the shadow and somehow block the King's connection to our sun. Some may ask how this is possible, considering that magic can be used out of sight of the sun, the dark never stopping its use before.

'Ferion also considered this, and concluded that the shadow was merely a visual representation of a magic that would go otherwise unseen. It in itself is meaningless, the true power was deeper than a simple blockage of light. This is yet unproven, but remains the stronger theory out of the few that exist. I am one who strongly disagrees with this, as I am a proponent of the theory of the Magical Soul.' The Guardian scanned over the silent crowd. None dare speak for fear that they may miss a piece of information spoken by the soft tongued Kilian. A fat man leant onto his own belly, breathing heavily; a short thin man was busy writing notes in a small book using a sharpened piece of charcoal; many others simply sat still and quiet, awaiting Kilian to continue. In the distance, not a part of the audience, was another man browsing the bookshelves at one side of the hall. There was a familiarity about him that Kilian could not place, and could not dwell on, as those before him had suffered enough silence.

'The Mari'in Shadow exists to this day, a black cloud blocking the sun. The once green land has been turned black. It will be the responsibility of this Library to uncover a means to remove the dark magic and restore old King Odaryn's lands to one of plenty.

'This is the end of today's lecture, but please feel free to explore the subject more, I have a list of reading material for consumption, including Ferion's original scroll. Those interested in the problem can join the project by contacting one of my scribes.'

The chairs where cleared, the lectured went away. Kilian took up the book and made to return it to its place on the second floor, which was dedicated to the history of the five cities. As he approached the stair, the familiar face was ahead of him. The Guardian followed.

The dark haired man, bristling with a shadow of facial hair, wore cloth and leather, coloured like nature, brown and green. Pouches hung from the leather belt around his waist and his well worn boots squeaked at the heel with each step. Kilian pursued quietly until the second floor, where the man continued up, but Kilian was obliged to return the book.

After replacing Fredche's History, Kilian made the effort to find the familiar man, searching each floor. It was at the fifth floor that the man was found looking at a glass display case in the centre of the room, a steel plate set of armour was within. Apart from the square space for the display, rows upon rows of bookcases lined the floor, with very little readers browsing. Kilian approached from the man's side, striking up conversation. 'A plane piece, not an interesting design, and never used by a warrior of any known renown. But special all the same, as it is one of only three complete sets of armour to survive the Green Sky Battle, when Drake of the Emerald Flame brought down his fire against the savages outside of this very city. The armour comes from his vanguard, who were caught in the devastation along with the enemy.'

The man nodded. 'I've seen this before. I've seen all three.' He did not take his eye from the display, which was illuminated by an iron chandelier above.

'Oh? The other three are also kept here, although one is currently on loan at the museum of this city's eastern gate.' Kilian faced the man. 'You appear familiar to me, though I have no recollection of seeing you in the library. Where have you seen these sets of armour?'

'After the battle, after Drake was relieved of his duties. I was a scout of the new forces sent from the Second City. I could not help but count all of the things that survived the fire. There were only three, the armour you now keep. Only when I last saw them, the soldiers that wore them were boiled alive inside...'

'Indeed...' Kilian replied in a rasp. 'Have we met, Sir?'

'Never.' Said the familiar other.

'I am the curator of this library, and Guardian of the Fourth City, Kilian Imoche. Some call me Kilian the Learned.' Kilian held out his hand.

The man took it and shook. 'Addison.'

'Well met, Addison.'

'Aye.' Said Addison.

'Would you care to see the others?'

'No.' Addison replied. 'Thank you.'

'May I ask what you have come here for?'

'No.'

Kilian was taken unaware by that answer. 'No?'

'No.' The man replied coldly.

'Very well. I will leave you to your thoughts, if you require help, please ask one of the other librarians.' Kilian left the man to his solitude, still staring at the case of armour. He headed for the stair through the rows of bookcases, contemplating the previous exchange. Addison's coldness was both rude and troubling. Addison... Kilian thought about that name. It is not familiar to me, but that face is. Addison... Kilian stepped through the doorway to the stair and then suddenly stopped, gripped by a new understanding. He is from the Second City, and his name means...

Kilian stormed back onto the floor, heading to the display case. His footsteps echoed loudly and his rasping breath was heavy with nerves. He found the man in the same place, peering through the glass at the steel armour. The Guardian raised one hand, as if gripping something intangible, his fingers clenched and Kilian raised his fist.

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The familiar man began to choke and sputter, his feet left the hard wood floor and his entire being was lifted into the air, as if hung by the neck. Kilian's power wrapped around Addison, entangling him, holding him off the ground. The Guardian approached and looked up at the other. 'Addison.' He relaxed the invisible grip around the other man's throat, so he could speak.

'Yes.' Addison replied, compelled to do so.

'This name has meaning.'

'Y... Yes!' The hung man tried as he might to control the words that came out of his mouth, but Kilian's magic took control.

'What does it mean?' Kilian's face was dark.

'It means...' Addison struggled, his face was red and sweating. 'It means... The son of Adam.'

Kilian pulsed with anger, and his magic responded, tightening around Addison. The captive moaned in pain and discomfort. 'The son of Adam. Adam of the Storm.' He laughed a breathless laugh. Adam hid this boy from me. 'You are this Lightning Lord?'

'Yes.'

'You defeated Drake.' It was not a question.

'I killed Drake.'

'I have you in my power, Addison, son of Adam, of the Storm. You can not escape me, and you can not lie to me.' Kilian pointed a finger up into Addison's face. 'Did you also murder the Guardians of the First City and the Third City, Emrick the Immortal and Giles the Prideful?'

'No.'

Kilian had to believe him, no man could lie once under his spell. He turned away to think, talking to himself. 'So you were not involved with their disappearance?'

The answer came unexpectedly. 'I was.'

'What?' He faced Addison again.

'I was involved.'

'What has happened to them?' Kilian was concerned.

'I took away everything that they loved.' He coughed. 'Everything that was important to them.'

Kilian rubbed his temples, chewing on what had been said. 'Tell me everything, from the beginning.'

'I was born-'

Kilian interrupted quickly. 'No no no!' Sometimes his magic was too precise. 'Tell me about your acts against the Guardians!'

'I was ranging beyond the Fourth City, sent out alongside nine others, our mission was to hound enemy forces, destroy supplies, tackle enemy scouts and outriders, assassinate any officers who may have strayed too far from the enemy force or who were easily targeted. We made no camps, entered no villages or towns, made no contact with anyone, otherwise our mission was a failure. Stealth was everything, and this meant there could be no fires.' Addison took a breath, swallowed in pain because of the invisible constriction and then continued. 'After a day of tracking a supply train through a fresh snow, and ultimately destroying it, we found ourselves sheltered in a deep cave. It was a relief, as the night grew colder and the snow fell harder, it was the first night that we considered it safe to make fire. We had gone months without a truly warm night, and now no one would be able to witness our light because of the cover of the cave.

'That was when the letter came.' He grimaced. 'As soon as the fire sparked and a flame came to life, it shed its colour and burned blue. The paper was ash at first, floating up above the heat. The pieces came together and their colour returned from black to white. Blue runes glowed across it and the fire below whispered my name. I plucked the letter from the heat and unfolded it. It was sent to me from my father, using his magic. The other men were in shock, afraid, but I had been schooled in such things as a boy, it was not new to me.'

'Yes yes yes!' Kilian interrupted. 'What did the letter say?'

'It was a final goodbye. It said that my father was to be slain, by you and the other Guardians. That it was for the good of the city and the world, that I should not fret or feel sad, and that I should return to the Second City and take up my rightful place as Guardian.'

'But you did not follow that advice, you did not return. Why?'

'I read the letter out to the others, I trusted them, and they me, at least to perform our mission together. We were all Second City soldiers, and understood that Adam's word was law. They agreed to take me home after our mission was ended, never suspecting that I would have left during the night. Rightfully so, I would not have. Not until I placed the letter into the flames, to destroy any evidence of our being there.

'The paper burnt quickly, the fire rose and the flames were no longer flames at all. They were people. They were my father. They were Emrick, Giles, Drake. And they were you. The flames were murder. The death of my father.' Addison spat. 'Adam's last act was to send me the truth, somehow. When the others saw what I saw, saw the look on my face, they knew that I would not linger. I had to kill them all.'

'Kill them? What? Why?' Kilian was confused. 'Why would you kill them?'

'Men on a ranging are the very first line of attack against an enemy, it meant that soon a major force would follow. If any Rangers were discovered, our army's secret attack would be revealed. Deserters were a risk, my leaving could potentially bring ruin to our mission. The usual response to this is to kill the deserter and destroy or hide the evidence, the body. The others were already at arms, but I had magic.'

'I see.'

'I made my way home, unseen. Returned to the tower of the Second City and recovered what I could.' Addison coughed. 'The message in the flames held no sound, so certain details were never revealed to me. Only upon my return did I discover the meaning of the murder. An assistant to my father still occupied the tower, he was there when the four of you attacked. He told me everything.

'I knew that Emrick alone was aware of my existence, so I chose him first. My revenge was sweet. That immortal child was so... Intelligent. Yet he lost something important once he found eternal life. He lost his adulthood, and with it a natural scepticism. He should have known from the start why I was there, yet he trusted me too easily. His guilt would not allow him to work against me.' Addison choked out a laugh. 'He feared death, loved life and all its possibilities, so I took away his ability to experience any more than he already had. He is alive, but does not live.

'Giles was next. I entered the Third City and stayed for weeks. I had no means of approaching the prideful Guardian, his tower was locked to anyone but he and his servants. Though monthly he would leave the tower and walk the streets, experiencing all he had built and maintained and contributed to. But something was amiss, he kept armoured guards with him. The people of the city told me that this was a new development, something that had occurred only over the past year or two. Giles feared for himself, and it was you he feared.'

'Me?'

Addison laughed again. 'Yes, but the fool was far wrong. He never knew that someone more dangerous would appear. Four guards were nothing. First I took the woman he loved away from him. All it took was the truth, the truth of how he helped kill my father. She was already aware of Giles' paranoia, his fear, everything pieced together for her immediately.

'Next I used her to turn the city folk against him, they attacked him and his retinue during his next outing. I was able to slay the guards and acquire a full suit of their armour while Giles escaped. One of the men was still alive and fought fiercely to make it back to Giles, to protect him. So I beat him to death with his own gauntlet. When I found him, Giles thought me one of his men and I was allowed to enter the tower with him. Soon after, I was able to use his paranoia to further my goals. I turned his servants against him, with a whisper here and there, and some coin. People are easily manipulated. Giles did the rest, he attacked a woman and everyone else thought him mad and evil. They fled the tower that very night. I was left with him for days while he slept or laid down motionless, void of any conscious thought. When he finally awoke from his sorry state, all it took was some bewitched alcohol and a familiar face to push him over the edge. Even without me, I think it was only a matter of time before he broke. His guilt was too strong, his shame a stain on his heart. But I deserved to be the one to break him, so I did. The last I saw of Giles, he was tearing off his own skin.'

This is inhuman... Kilian's shock was apparent. He would never have believed this story, if it were not for his magic.

'I sought out Drake next. It was a simple thing. I turned his city against him, using the rules of some game he had created. In defeating several champions, the people soon came to admire my strength and supported my claim to become the new Guardian of the Fifth City. I caused an uprising and forced Drake's hand. He was very strong, as expected of Dior'kin.'

'Ah, unfortunately for Drake, he was not Dragonkin.' Kilian interrupted. 'He once killed such a man. Ate his heart and drank his blood, I hear, thus absorbing the Dragon's magic.'

'Still, he was powerful. His emerald flame, the dragon flame, was well known to those who fought during the time of the Green Sky Battle. I needed to force him to expend his energy, and luckily Emrick was of use. I learnt of the tower of the Fifth City, about its use of piped water. All of this knowledge was contained in the immortal's archives. This allowed me to force Drake to use his power until exhausted, to fight his flames, and cause him to rely on his blade. I suppose if he was actually Dragonkin, my plan would have failed, luckily his stolen power was not as strong as I was led to believe. Even so, I took the risk and won. When he faced me with sword in hand, he lost. He has been the only one I have killed. I did it not just for my father, but for all of those who suffered below the green sky.'

'And now you come to me.'

'And now I come to you.'

'You're a foolish man. No, a foolish boy!' Kilian snarled. 'Do you not know what you have done? You have destroyed the great cities, brought plague and madness and death. The rituals can not be performed. As the darkness rises our sun pushes it back, and now the sun's power is being channelled no longer. I am the last who can conduct the ritual, and I fear what may happen if I am lost. You are a fool! A Fool! A Fool!'

Addison's face was one of amusement, although pained. 'You blame me? You say the ritual is important, yet you murdered my father. You started all of this. You! You were the first to halt a ritual. You took away my father, took away the time we had left. You forced my revenge. You destroyed the cities, killed Drake, maddened Giles, entombed Emrick in his own body. You tempted fate, and fate answered.'

'Fool!' Kilian returned, angry. He turned away in thought, pacing back and forth while Addison hung. The boy is mad. He knows the affects of his actions, yet continues. He is mad! The Guardian's thoughts carried on. The cities must be restored, the new Guardians appointed and the rituals restarted. But how do I cure disease and madness, how do I stop wars and drive out demons? I do not have such a power. He stopped moving, froze in thought. Power. That is it! I need more power! Kilian turned to Addison. 'You said that this assistant of your father told you everything?'

'Everything, yes.'

'Then he told you of the magic?'

'Ah, yes. What this all started from, the spell. I know of it, of its power.'

'I need that power, Addison. I must save the cities!'

Addison cringed and laughed and winced. 'You want to save the cities? But you destroyed them!'

Mad! 'Give me the spell!' Addison struggled and fought, he did not wish to speak. Kilian pushed. 'Have you seen it? Read it? Do you know how to perform it?'

Addison tried to hold his tongue, but Kilian's manipulative magic was too strong. 'Y-yes!'

'Tell me how!' Kilian demanded, but the constricted man fought and fought, his body convulsed, the whites of his eyes went red, his neck was veined and bulging. He screamed and thrashed and fought and fought. 'Bah! I will take what I want!' Kilian reached up and placed his hand on Addison's forehead. He reached out with his power, his magic spread throughout Addison's mind and searched for what he wanted. The ability to retrieve knowledge from another's mind was his.

Power. Power. Power... Where..? Unloved. Battle. Traitor. Immortal. Red Moon. Blooded Hand. Child. Son. Father. Wife. Mother. Lover. Lost. War. Sword and Shield and Bow and Spear. Wolves in the Night. Wolves on the Streets. Wolves and Lightning. Bitten and Shocked. Green Flame and Green Sky. White Bird. White Skin. White Teeth. Black Claws. Revenge. Revenge. Revenge. Father. Father. Forbidden. Forbidden... Found!

Kilian released his grip on Addison. He smiled. 'I have it.' I finally have it. 'I know the spell that your father has created. I know Adam's new power, his new magic. I know the words, I know this language.' He paused. An ancient tongue spoke on his mind, the language ripped from Addison's memory. 'How did Adam ever hide this from me? How did you come to find it? I searched the tower.'

'The assistant held the spell, he hid, and it with him.'

'Why did the assistant not take this power for himself? This language is powerful.'

'The words were not committed to the page, they were inscribed.'

Kilian was impatient. 'Inscribed where?' He was curious too.

'Bone.'

'Bone?'

'The assistant's.'

Kilian reeled. 'The assistant's... bones?'

'Yes.'

'Your father was as mad as you!' His curiosity knew no bounds. 'How did you retrieve the words?' Addison simply smiled, and Kilian knew. 'Unimaginable. The things you have done.'

'He knew the sacrifice.'

'Perhaps he did. This magic is powerful. The words from your mind, they are of the Dragon. No... Similar. They are older still. But only one language pre-dates the Dragon's own.'

'Yes.'

'The first men and their God... Mother Nature herself.'

'Yes.'

'How did Addison find this lost language?'

'Time was no obstacle to him.'

'Indeed. He foresaw his own death, the future. Why not the past? What has already passed must have been easier for him to see than what has yet to pass.' Kilian smiled. 'Your father is truly great.'

'Was truly great.' Addison corrected, painfully.

Kilian paced once more, thinking, considering. The words are not unlike the Dragon's language, though they are different enough for me to struggle with a translation. I must study this. I must... Wait. He stared at Addison thoughtfully. 'Do you know the language? Can you speak the words?'

'Yes.'

'Good.' Kilian approached Addison, placed his hand upon his brow and used his magic to search. He knew the other man's mind now, this time it was simpler, easier. He heard the words spoken, and was sure that he could successfully repeat them. 'Amazing.' He took his hand away. 'You understand what this spell is?'

'Yes.'

'Immunity.' He gasped. 'The language is less of grammar and structure, and more of understanding, of concepts. It is a language of the heart, not the tongue... The spell is for immunity against magic, I know it.' How this would help restore the cities was beyond him, but it meant that no other magical being could oppose him. 'Why did Adam not use this magic himself?'

'I do not know.'

'Why not you?'

'I do not need it.'

'Then you really are a fool.' Kilian stepped away. 'Adam's death finally has meaning. I know the spell, I have his magic.' He took a long drawn breath and began to recite the spell, but instead of words, only the sound of a gentle breeze came from his mouth. It was like the rustling of trees. This was the language of nature, which could not be learned as other languages could, it must be understood magically, as a part of the spirit, and only then can the sounds of nature be spoken.

Addison was released from the intangible restraints as Kilian finished reciting the spell. He gasped for breath and nursed his aches. Kilian looked down at him. 'It is done.'

'Yes, it is.' Addison curled his hands into fists, his arms shook and from his fingers a blue electricity sparked. He punched his arms out towards Kilian and opened his hands, his palms projecting the electric power. It reached out to touch the Guardian of the Fourth City, only when it washed over the other man's body, it had no affect.

Kilian flinched at first, a natural reaction, but soon realised that the magic was useless against him. He could not even feel the heat of the lightning, never mind the electric shock. He laughed. 'It worked!' His voice was a rasp, that had not changed. 'It really worked!'

Addison continued on with bolts of electricity, with unseen powers that would be able to lift a man from his feet and throw him across a room, with balls of golden fire. The electricity died, the telekinesis was of no use, the flames burnt out. All were no use against Kilian. His clothes were half destroyed, but his body was unaffected. 'It worked.' Said Addison, finally sure that Kilian had performed the spell successfully.

'Thank you, Addison. I have possibly the most powerful ability that would be known to Mages across the land.' He licked his lips. 'I have become more powerful than anyone could imagine, I have beaten your father. Finally. My wisdom is unmatched, my magic is unmatched, my city is now unmatched! And though I will restore them all, not one of the other four will have this power!' He raised a hand toward Addison, and although several metres apart, made like he was grasping at the other's throat, crushing it beneath his fingers. 'Go with your father.'

Addison's throat should have been crushed, his life should have been taken. Only it was not. Kilian was confused. He focused and attempted the kill again, but his power did not come to him. 'How?'

'And you say I am the fool.' Said Addison.

'I don't understand.' Kilian tried again and again and again and again. He could not constrict Addison. 'Tell me why!' He demanded, but he could not force an answer as he could before.

'Your wisdom is unmatched you say?' Addison laughed. 'It seems I know a lot that you do not, Kilian. I know that magic is not the internal force that you may think it to be, no, what you feel inside of yourself is the Spirit. You falsely call it magic.

'Magic is in fact a power that exists in things outside of our bodies. The sun, the stars, the wind, the water. Life. Our Spirit acts as a conduit, allowing us to channel magic from nature and manipulate it in however way we can or need.' He took a step forward. 'You are immune to magic, Kilian. You have closed off your conduit. This means that magic can not be directly used against you... Nor by you.'

Kilian was incredulous. He shook his head while backing away. 'No.'

'Try again, if you do not believe me.'

He knew it to be true, he had been fooled into using a spell that was a double edged sword. Kilian had grown to be a selfish man, though he did help others, it was all to aid himself and his hold over his city. But even this selfish man's first thought was of something greater than he. 'The ritual. The cities.'

'Will fall thanks to you.' Addison replied.

'No, you don't understand. The ritual protects, but now it can not.'

'Then you should not have been so power hungry. The spell was meant for a person with the ability to live and fight without magic, in a world of magic. It was meant for a warrior, a soldier. It was meant for me!' Addison stepped up to Kilian and took him by his singed collar. 'You and you alone started this. You caused the fall of the Second City. You tempted a vicious and spiteful person, tempted me, into acting against all of the remaining Guardians. You should have been aware of the consequences, but your foresight is weak at best.

'The cities suffer because I removed their traitorous hearts, all because you destroyed the only one that was just and good and loyal.' Addison yelled and threw Kilian at the glass display case. 'This is what happens when good men are killed!'

The glass shattered under Kilian's weight. The Guardian passed through and into the steel armour, ending up on the floor on the other side with a thud and a metal clangour. He was hurt and bloody, but still his concern was for the cities. 'You must do it. You must perform the ritual, you are the only one left of the Blood. Until others can be found.' He cried. Even though it was not known why, he knew, he could feel that the rituals must be performed, otherwise some great catastrophe would happen. 'You must!'

Addison looked down at Kilian, his face expressionless. 'Maybe.' He said, sincerely.

That was the last Kilian ever saw of Addison, of the Storm, and what a storm he brought. The man left the floor, the tower and then the city. Kilian was left, powerless. He could not explain to the other librarians what had happened, it was too much to handle. He did make a search for information on Nature's language, within his great library, but there was nothing. His hopes of reversing the spell were ended early on. The only hope the Guardian had left was when the time for the ritual came, he hoped that it would still work.

Kilian climbed the steps with cage and satchel at hand, feeling laboured as he did so. It was the first time since he became Guardian that this climb felt difficult. Once through the trapdoor and on to the flat tower top, he felt much worse. Kilian had never feared the height of the tower, but now he did. His legs seemed unstable beneath him, yet he persisted.

The last of the sunlight was slowly melting away. Kilian took the chalk and wrote his name, took the knife and the bird and raised them up into the golden rays of light, then plunged the blade into the struggling creature. The blood flowed, the warmth trickled down the Guardian's hands and on to the floor. With his foot he wiped away the name, and the ritual was complete.

But not successful.

He turned to the west as lightning lit the sky, then the thunder cracked and Kilian could feel it in his body. The regions that were encircled by the five cities were alive with fire and smoke, the sky was reflected orange with the intensity of light. Then the screams came, crossing the land like a wave. So loud that the thunder was lost to the dread chorus. Oh no. He thought to himself. I have been selfish, I did not act when I should have. I left it too late.

Kilian felt fear in him, but not a fear like one of death, or a fear of one's own inadequacies, nor the fear of being weak or losing. Kilian felt a fear that the ancient ritual had protected all living men from. It was a dreadful pain in his heart and his gut, a terror that even his closed off soul shuddered to experience. The Guardians had failed, the gate was open and evil stirred.

The tower tumbled beneath his feet, and the end of all things came.