Thanks for reading! Here's Chapter: 7
Sailor Moon ain't mine.

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Fall From Grace
	By: Emporess
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-But it was to late, because I'd heard it, and I'd
never be the same again.
					-The Maxx

Chapter 7:
Anxiety

	Michael looked down at the unconscious form in his arms. She
seemed peaceful, merely sleeping. One of his hands moved up to
caress her bronzed cheek. She murmured something he couldn't hear.
	A sound. His body tensed. Deftly he threw Celeste over his
shoulder in a fireman's-carry as he took off running across the
rooftops. Behind him he heard the Asteroid Senshi's advances. They
were closer then he would have liked.
	"PINK LADY FREEZING KISS!" He was forced to stop as the 
concrete and railing in front of him was made ice. Slowly he turned
to meet them. "Next time I won't miss!" Chibi-Moon warned.
	"Who are you?" Vesta demanded.
	His face was hidden from them, the large hat causing shadows
to fall over his eyes. A low chuckle rumbled across the roof. Michael
didn't seem intimidated. They could see his lips curling upward. "The
Devil." he answered. 
	"I'll wipe that smirk off your face!" Juno advanced on him, 
fists raised. A flash of silver light sparkled in the darkness
where he stood watching. "Masaka," Juno hissed, trying to stop
before it was to late.
	"Juno!" Ceres warned.
	A beam seemed to spring out at her, coiling across the space
between them. Sparks flew off her body, energy lighting up the 
rooftop. She screeched as she was immobilized in pain. Seconds later 
it lifted, the thing uncoiling from her as she collapsed. The others 
ran over. "Daijobu?" came Chibi-Moon's worried whisper.
	The weapon Michael had used slithered back to him, seeming
to disappear inside the shadows of his cloak. He sprang 
backwards, landing on the next rooftop. The Senshi moved to follow
him. "No, wait!" Chibi-Moon halted them.
	"But Pallas wants to kick his ass!" hissed the one in blue
to her leader.
	"Let him go," Ceres silenced as she helped the protesting
Juno to her feet. "If they?re telling the truth, we know where
he's going."
	"And if they?re not?" Vesta asked.
	"Then we find them," Chibi-Moon stated. She watched his
disappearing form. "We find them."

	"Damn!" Aradia hissed, barely missing the flaming arrow
that shot out from behind her. She didn't waste time turning around
to find out how close they were. It would have been hard to see
anything in the fog the blue haired one had created.
	The little run in with the Senshi had definatly gotten out
of hand. Besides the fact she had four totally pissed Senshi after
her, Michael had gone AWOL with Celeste. She could only HOPE he
was still heading to the meeting place. Or at the very least
somewhere she could find him.
	Breaking free of the mist, she moved to the side. The 
girls appeared a few seconds later. "So you finally stopped!"
Venus stood ahead of the others. Aradia simply stayed crouched
down, not moving as she watched. "Who are you? What have you
done with Sensei!" The longer she waited, the angrier the
blonde became. "Aren't you going to answer me?!"
	"Temdilah..." Her green eyes closed as she murmured.
"Isocras Bendelios.." 
	"What's happening?" Mars asked the others as the
wind began to gust around them.
	"Look!" Mercury pointed as Aradia extended her hands up
in supplication to the sky. Mars tried to call upon her arrow, 
but couldn't concentrate with her hair flying into her face. 
	"I'll see you soon!" The red-head called out as she
disappeared behind the curtain of wind. Or seemed to. Jupiter
held tightly to the tan stone at her neck with one hand as
she traced the dim outline of Aradia as she ran off into some
trees... Without saying a word.

	The plush lilac carpet of Dagon's room was actually quite
comfortable, Valka told himself, as he lay out on his side 
staring into space. In fact, under other circumstances, it would
have been easy to fall asleep there. The throbbing pain that
had tormented him earlier in his arm had now fallen to a simple
tingling. His gaze moved to the dim light that shined from it.
Soon it would be healed. If he could just fall asleep, he would
wake up, whole again. Everything would be fine.
	Except Freya and Minako would be dead. And he would still
be in Hell. 
	He brought his good arm up, spreading his palm out. In 
the center of his outstretched fingers formed a globe. Yellow,
orange and white hues danced around in circles. The motion
of the colors gradually sped up till they swirled into a 
continual blur. Abruptly the image changed, shifting into
that of a golden hued girl who winked playfully in his direction.
	"Mina-chan.." he murmured to the sprite. She began a dance,
moving her limbs lithely, beckoning with an outstretched arm to
him. "I wish I could be with you, lovely one." The sprite looked
forlornly at him before fading as the blur in the center began
moving faster again. It was almost hypnotic in quality. Perhaps 
he closed his eyes. He might have been asleep, only dreaming he
was watching the shimmering orb. 
	The colors slowed and he was looking in on a dusty 
chamber. Not only was he seeing this, he realized. He was there.
He felt his arm stretch out and pick up a small brush on the 
ground. He swept the tool against the rough rock wall before him,
staring at the scant etchings in the wall. One of his hands 
reached up to adjust the glasses perched on his nose. "Strange..."
	"What is?" He heard a voice ask behind him. 
	Valka turned around. "Freya?" He asked hopefully. His
sister had been missing for almost a week now. Their discovery of
the caves and the relics it held was probably their most 
significant yet. It would finally give credibility to their past
findings.
	It was the first decade of the 20th century. Valka Ishata
and his twin sister Freya were the youngest of a number of 
archeologists working in the ruins of what was once the ancient 
civilization of Mesopotamia. The deserts of the Sahara and its 
pyramids had been fielding fantastic historical finds. Pharaohs and 
their mummified remains had been the talk of universities for quite 
some time. The British sent their most promising scholars to these 
buried treasure to categorize and classify. 
	The twins were half-British, their mother's Indian 
heritage revealed in their darker skin and hair. They had never
known their British father, who was a high ranking officer in
the military. Their rare meetings with him were always
uncomfortable and perfunctiatory. Their knowledge of him was mostly
from their mother, who said he was a kind man. At the least, he
always provided for his mixed family. They lived in an ornate 
residence just outside the city of Bombay. 
	India was one of the richest colonies of the British at
that time. The Lords in London became more and more wealthy off
the fine silks, tea, and other goods brought from the country for
trade. Unfortunately, it treated the population horribly. Rebellions
arose often, with the superior British troops smacking down the 
natives. 
	One such rebellion sprang out during one of their Father's
infrequent visits. He and his troops were routed just a quarter of
a mile from their home. Overcome by superior numbers, he was killed.
Chaos rained, the now liberated Indians systematically destroying
all every house of their former taskmasters, pillaging as they
went.
	The young twins, not yet having reached their tenth birthday
ran swathed in heavy garments to distort their features. Their mother
kept repeating that everything would be fine, that their Father 
would fix everything as usual. Freya's hands quivered in his own as
they heard the angry exclamations of triumph around them. 
	They began to feel more at ease at they got farther away
from the riotous crowd. Images danced in the young Valka's mind
of their home being sacked. Gone, everything he had known
his whole life, taken without a thought. He was angry, and
most of all afraid. He wanted his father to come back to them.
	Night fell, and still there was no trace of any troops. Men
drunk off fine whisky they had stolen ran amok in the streets. Afraid
of staying out with her two children, her mother led them back to
the remains of their house. "It will be easier for your Father to
find us there," She hypothesized in a tense whisper. She was 
practically dragging the exhausted children along at that point. He
never did understand his Mother's exact reasoning for returning.
She must have been half-mad. Surely by then she realized what had
happened to her husband. 
	Their mother was of a mixed ancestry. She had grown up in
London, not India. She spoke both English and Hindi flawlessly. Her 
parents had been wealthy, and as most upper crust woman of the time
she had gotten a through education. Besides the normal classics,
arts, music, and math, her interests also strayed to myths and
the occult. Her only job of course was to marry well. Once she
had completed that she took care of the household, the children,
and pursued her own investigations into the unknown. When 
traveling abroad in Europe with her husband she often sought out
the local healers, mystics, anyone who had knowledge of the 
so-called 'ancient magics'. She became adept in telepathy, 
telekinetics, distant healing, and herbs.
	Her talents were later passed on to her children, who
she trained from birth. Growing up she taught them to open their
perceptions beyond the physical realm around them, to take note
of the spiritual and 'unseen' dimensions of the world. Perhaps
that's why she missed the warning signs in her own country. The
civil uprising took her completely by surprise, and she was
unprepared for its consequences.
	Unlike many of the residences nearby, their's was
still intact and not burning. It seemed deserted. Cautiously she
led the children into the remains. The previous elegance of the
house was shattered by the pillaging. Anything of value had been
ripped out, stolen. Although the children had lived there since
birth, nothing was familiar to them. Their precious memories
had been torn from them as much as their material possessions.
	"It'll be alright," She kept telling them, or maybe it
was herself. "Your father will be here any minute." He glanced
at his sister, her dirty, tear streaked face. She had done 
nothing but whimper through the whole ordeal. Even at such a
young age he wondered what his own face must look like.
	A noise deeper in the house stopped them. Sluggish
footsteps, getting closer. Hiding both of the children behind
her she turned to the main entrance to greet whoever would 
walk through the door. "What do we have here?"
	Three men, hulking masses swaying a bit on their feet.
It must have been a trick of the light that shadowed their
face's from Valka's view. He watched his mother pull the robes
closer to her face, to obscure her appearance. She watched
them silently, not daring to use a voice that was well known
to them. 
	One stepped forward as his mother stepped back, pushing
them as well. He reached out for the cloth on her face, yanking
it free to reveal her features. He felt her hands tighten around
his shoulder. A strong shove sent both the children tumbling 
backwards towards the way they had came. "The duchess!" came
the excited voice of one, using the hateful name she was known
for in the village. 
	From his position on the floor he could see his mother
stand up straighter, readying herself. "Get out of my home!"
She hissed through clenched teeth. "Get out or when my husband
returns I'll have him hunt you down and string you up for the
dogs you are."
	"Feisty." The men seemed unimpressed with her performance.
"Your husband died a few hours ago. I saw his body dragged across the
fields. I helped build the fire they threw it in. I ate meat
cooked over his remains." The men laughed then, full of themselves
and their victory. "Their will be no salvation for you or your
kind, Duchess."
	To his shock his mother reared her head back and let out
a wail he had never heard before. She ran at them blindly, clawing
to get at them, thinking of nothing but feeling their flesh torn,
seeing their blood flow. 
	She was deflected easily, falling to the ground hard. Her
face turned to his, a crimson line dripping down from her scalp.
"Run," she whispered urgently. 
	"No," he stuttered to her, and he could feel his sister
clutching at him from behind. The men were looking at all of them
and smiling as they advanced.
	"There's more?" asked the tallest. He moved towards the 
children. "One for each of us.."
	Something hard slammed him in the back, and he went down
with a groan. His mother stood swinging a board wildly at them,
driving them back before one lunged at her and caught her arms.
Anouther tore the board from her grip while he watched paralyzed
with indecision.
	Her eyes were pleading as she wrestled in their grip. 
"RUN AWAY!" Was her last strangled cry as she disappeared under
the assault of the two. 
	The words galvanized him. The dank fumes of the streets
were in his nostrils. He wasn't aware of moving, didn't know how
he managed to run so fast. Freya was clutched to him, having to
be half dragged as she whimpered and cried. But he wouldn't slow
down, wouldn't be stopped. He ran till he could no longer smell 
fumes of people, no longer see the fire raging through the streets.
He ran till he came to the outskirts of the village where he 
eventually collapsed. 
	Freya had long since gone silent, exhaustion finally
taking its toll. He wasn't sure how long it took for the 
reinforcements in the village to restore order and find them.
It could have been hours or days. All he could remember was
staring up into the sky, the night sky, and watching the
twinkling stars.
	"Theres Cancer," He whispered to Freya as he stroked
her hair. "And over there is the big dipper. Remember what 
Mama said about it?" His sister was already asleep, not able
to hear him though he continued talking as if she was awake.
	"The North Star," He said almost reverently as it
appeared, shining brightly. "She said the North Star could
be followed to the land of all possibilities, to a place
where dreams became reality. That's where we'll go Freya. 
They'll be waiting for us there." His eyelids grew heavier
as he felt the pull of sleep. But he resisted. "I want to
go to that place with you, Freya. I want to go there now."
Those were the last words he murmured before his dreams
took him away.
	So that fateful day had led to them being shipped
back to their Father's land, to stay with relatives unsure
of how to handle such confused children. Their silence and
piercing glare had unnerved their elders. Freya was timid,
prone to tears and nervous spasms when addressed. Valka was
the one who frightened them, nearly mute but walking with
an almost angry aura towards anyone but Freya. Their
education was as through as their Mother's. They drifted
gradually towards archeology, allowing them to be alone
and away from a world they wanted nothing to do with.
	
	"I'm afraid not," answered the voice. He turned 
slowly and stared in shock at the apparition in front of
him. The figure's hair was white, his skin bleached. Like a
ghostly specter out of a Lovecraft novel. "What was so
strange?"
	Impossibly the figure moved closer, as Valka tried
to become one with the cave's dusty walls. The pale form
reached a hand out to brush across the carvings he had so
recently been observing. He studied it for a moment before
looking up at Valka and riveting him. "Do you know what it
says?"
	Valka did not respond. He was too terrified to move.
The figure went on. "It says that the way to the Gates of
Eternity have been prepared. All that's needed is the person
with the right key." The man's hand traced along the carvings
and up the wall, leaving it and hovering right above Valka's
chest. "The key to all miracles in this world, to salvation."
	One finger began to trace the buttons on his western
shirt. It trailed down, tugging at each gently, unfastening 
them. Valka could not find his voice. Eventually the shirt
lay open, leaving him exposed. One of the nearly translucent
nails ran down his chest. "Your as pretty as she described."
	"She?" he asked, though it was more of a gasp as one
of the man's nails trailed down his torso. His face was 
flushed, the other person's magnetism drawing him in. 
	"Freya-san," he stated nonchalantly, concentrating 
on the lazy circles he was making. 
	Valka felt another hand on his back, traveling 
downward. With a shudder he tried to break the paralysis he
was held in. "My sister? Where-"
	"Shhh," the other figure whispered, bending down till
he was directly in Valka's face, lips almost grazing each other.
"Time enough for explanations later. Right now I just want to
taste you-" His tongue flicked out and licked his open lips. 
"-everywhere." He finished.
	The moan that left Valka was frightening to his own ears.
He struggled for a moment, willing himself to move, to push him 
away. 
	His legs gave out from beneath him and he felt his back
sliding across the cave wall. The other man's purple robes
seemed to dissolve across his skin as he moved across him. "A
dream," he murmured delirious with the touch of that pale
flesh. 
	"No dream, Valka-chan," the seductive voice corrected,
rising above Valka's moans. Hands, legs, arms, all moving against
him. He was left staring at the cave rock on his knees, crying 
out in pure joy as wave after wave of pleasure rushed over him.
	Then the white form rose above him, eclipsing his view.
"Dagon," he told the spent man, as he sucked one of his fingers
into his mouth. "My name, though you may call me Dagon-sama if
you like." And then their had been no more thoughts, just that
almost bruising pleasure.
	  
	Valka's eyes opened. He was still lying on the carpet.
The door of the room slowly opened. He watched it dispassionately,
resigning himself to Dagon and his fate. 
	"Onii-chan," whispered a voice.
	"Masaka..." hissed Valka, staring in disbelief as Freya
stepped into the light. A green glow seemed to be coming off her.
She kneeled before him. He winced at seeing her. Any skin that was 
bared was covered in lesions. They glowed the brightest.
	Freya raised one hand to the field in front of him. "Shes
waiting for you, Onii-chan." Dagon's cage cackled with energy. "It
would be a shame to keep such a beautiful woman waiting."
	"Freya..." he protested weakly, shaking his head in denial.
	"Its too late," she said, smiling even as more of her flesh
dissolved before his eyes. "Give me your hand."
	"Iie." He denied, even as his good arm began to rise to meet
her own. Valka grunted as he felt the pressure of her palm as it 
reached out and took his own.
	"Do you remeber the Northern Star?" she asked, not moving.
	"Hai."
	"Promise me you'll take her there." A tear ran down her 
cheek. "I want her to go with you in my place."
	"Onee-chan..." He moaned, trying to remove his hand from
her grip. 
	With that she pulled hard, dragging him forwards. Before
he could even think of moving her lips were on his, a feather 
light touch. Then he was on the other side of the field, time
for only one last look.
	"Saynora." 
	"One-" and then another lime colored light coursed at
him and he was gone, leaving Freya alone.
	She collapsed to the carpet, breathing raggedly and looking
up at the ceiling. "I always wanted to be in here," She panted 
between breaths. 
	"Onii-chan," she whispered, eyes starting to dim. "I see
Cancer." Her eyelids closed. "And over there, the Star." Her body
shuddered violently. "I see them... Onii-chan, they're waiting for
me. Its so beautifulllll..." Freya trailed off, before falling
silent. 

	Michael looked again at the sleeping woman. She murmured
from time to time, though the words were lost to him. He traced 
the curves of her body with his eyes, willing her limbs to move.
Lying next to her on the bed, wanting so badly to wake her.
	Her rhythmic breathing filled his ears. So familiar. He'd
spent countless nights in his other life listening to her sleep.
If this was her, the woman he knew. Time changed people. And unlike
himself, the difference to her was not decades but centuries, millennia
even. He couldn't begin to comprehend what life must have been like 
for her, or the things she must have seen. Her thought process...
	His lips grazed hers before he could stop himself. His tongue
met little resistance as it pried open her lips to entwine with his
own. Shifting so he was almost on top of her, hands roving across
her body, caught up in distant memories and desires. To hold her 
again, to have her there. It felt like... like...
	A rag doll. A lifeless thing.
	Michael pulled away abruptly. There had been no response
from her. Not an eyelash fluttered. "Celeste," he pleaded, 
leaning next to her ear. Silence filled the room.
	He moved away from the bed, trying to put distance between
himself and the intoxicating presence of her. His eyes swept
the room, bare of illumination. He focused on the sliding 
glass door. He went over to stand in front of it, staring out
at the night. 
	The faint reflection of himself on the glass revealed how
tired he was. One hand absently went up to his cheek, to trace
a scar that no longer was there. He moved the finger up and
down, imagining what it used to feel like.
	"Not in this life," he murmured, the bristles against
his fingers reminding him he needed to shave. It took all
his will power to not turn around and head back for the 
bed, for Celeste. "That's one thing I didn't carry with
me from that time.." 

	"Quiet out here," remarked a guard to his companion. 
	"Nice for a change. Usually there's someone arguing in the
streets." The other replied. They both wore the blue-gray uniforms
of the palace guards. Normally only one guard would be stationed,
but security had been doubled. "You don't really think he'll show,
do you?"
	The 1rst man scoffed at his companion. "It'd be suicidal
of him to show up *after* announcing he would. What kind of idiot
would challenge the entire royal army?"
	"They say," the 2nd continued, "that he moves like the wind.
So fast, you can't follow it with your eyes." He looked out into the
night. "They also say, that he was the only one to survive the hit
4on that shrine we took out. Some believe that he's bestowed with the
power and speed of a God."
	"Foolishness." The guard shook his head. "Its just another
disturbed worshiper whose too stupid to go underground after getting
lucky. I'll show him how wrong he is with my blade." He put a hand
on the hilt of his sword to emphasize that point.
	"Who will you show that too?" A voice called out into the 
night. 
	The two men drew their swords, gazed out at the figure whom
stood in the darkness. They could see nothing. "Who goes there?"
The 1rst guard asked warily.
	The man started walking forward at a casual pace. "Dead men
don't need to know my name." came the ominous reply. It ended in 
seconds, before either man could react. Unchallenged, the man 
continued on.

	"He's been sighted entering the compound."
	"I knew we should have gone back to the city immediately!"
	"Stop him at the front! Don't let him reach the main 
hallway!"
	"Too late! He took out six men-"
	"Impossible! All of you, out!"
	"At this rate he'll be here any-"
	"Halt! Another step and I'll- AHHH!"
	"Your Majesty, gomen-"

	The man entered the chamber of the King, stepping over the
last guard he had vanquished. He peered at his target, looking for
any signs of fear. Endymion's expression was hard to read in the
dim glow globes. "you?re not so big."
	"Nani?" Asked the killer.
	"I said, you?re not so big." The King examined him critically.
"I expected you to be larger." The corners of his mouth almost turned
into a grin. "Why, you can't be but 17 or more! I'm impressed 
someone so young could cause such destruction!"
	"I could say the same about you." The young man hissed in 
response. His eyes swept the King's face. "you?re only a few years
my senior." He brought his blade up to point at him. "And yet 
you've ordered more death then I could ever bring."
	The King's grin faded to a look more subdued. "So you are
the one who escaped, the assassin... The Devil."
	"They call me that, yes." The killer held no humor in his
voice. "Just another name, anouther title." He advanced a few
steps closer before pausing. "But what's in a name after all?" He
murmured. "Do you know what we called you in our sietch?" 
	The King made no move to answer. "I'll tell you then.
We called you 'Jiharo'. It means 'the great liar', or 'king
of deceit'." The young man's eyes turned to one of fury then.
"No matter what you do, the prophecy will be fulfilled! There
will be a time of awakening in all mankind! You cannot stop
the path of the righteous!" He was nearly spitting with hatred.
"Through the teachings left by Toro-sama, we will be guided
into the light!"
	The monarch seemed unaffected by the other's religious 
fever. "So the great God you all worship has a name, eh?" he
sounded bemused. 
	"He is not our 'God', not in the way you mean it. 
Toro-sama was a prophet, gifted with the sight. He spoke of
the way to find the key, the meaning behind all." There was
a reverence etched in the killer's voice as he spoke.
	"The key... The light..." The King's voice rumbled.
"All of these titles for the same thing, some sort of power,
correct?" He waited for no response. "Let me tell you something
about names. You answer to 'The Devil', but I bet there is 
another as well."
	"Skylar," The assassin stated low. "Now knowing it, you
will die!" He pounced, prepared to slice the King's chest.
	He was denied as the King sprung backwards, withdrawing
his own blade. "Not so fast! We were discussing names." A low
chuckle sprung from him as he watched the younger man's 
amazement. "You are incorrect on your name. Skylar is only
what they gave you. Would you like the truth?"
	There was a clang as metal hit metal, swords clashing.
"I don't need to hear the 'poison' you spill from your fangs!"
He grimaced as the King blocked a blow from his sword. "You
sense your death and wish to trick me! But I won't be fooled!"
	Endymion's right leg launched out, knocking him to the
floor. He kicked the man's sword away from his sprawled form.
"I don't fear you. If anything, I feel sorry for you." And
indeed, his face did look remorseful. "You've spent all
these years at the center of treachery, manipulated for a
fool's purpose."
	"The truth," the King continued, looking down at him.
"Your name, your heritage. They never told you any of it.
You are Mikel; Mikel Atreides, heir of the Duke Paulus 
Atredies."
	"Nani?" the young man whispered.
	"You were stolen several years ago," he sadly informed
him. "I've heard of the potions and mysticism those fools
weave, but I had no idea how powerful it was. You really can't
remember anything, can you?"
	"You lie!" The young man exclaimed, trying to deny the
horrible feeling that was rising in his stomach.
	"I do not. You sense that its truth, don't you?" Endymion
asked gently. "You never wished to kill me. Your skill was 
far below par when you attacked. Surely a part of you must 
remember your family, the times you spent at court." The King
gestured to the cast away weapon. "Did you never wonder where
you picked up your skill? The power that comes from being a
noble born?"
	"Iie... Iie, it can't be true!" The young man cried,
shaking his head to try to knock away his doubts. "I am 
part of the Sietch! The way of Toro-sama! I seek the key,
I feel the light! I'm Skylar- I-" He began to visibly 
shake.
	"Daijobu," The King murmured in soothing tones. "Its
All right. It will all come with time." He laid a strong hand
on the other's trembling shoulder. "You will not be blamed
for things you had no control over. With help-"
	"ARRAHGAH!" The young man savagely yelled, 
somersaulting backwards and picking up his blade. "YOU
LIE!!" He roared, rushing forward. "I see the light!
The golden light for Toro-sama, not you! I'll destroy-"
	Before his sword could connect with the King's
neck, he was blinded by the sun. Or so it seemed. Golden
light tangled his vision, eclipsing the room and everything
in it. The young man felt the handle of the sword drop
from his grip. "This light! This is-! This is-"
	He felt sharp pain slash across his cheek before he
hit the floor, painfully. Dazed he looked up into the 
center of the blaze, the form of the King looking down
at him. He was pressing a cloth against the young man's
cheek, to halt the bleeding he'd made with his sword.
"This was the light you sensed was it not?"
	"It was a lie..." The young man began to weep,
for the first time he could ever remember doing so. "My
whole life was a lie! There is no reason for me! There is
no God!" He was in such misery he didn't even notice the
blood that continued to flow on his face, despite the
cloth. "There's no reason to live without the hope that
comes from a God!"
	"Then I shall be your God," The King stated, trying
to apply more pressure to the wound. "I have much to teach
you, Mikel. And you have much to learn..."
	
	"Sir," came a voice from the doorway. Michael turned,
pulled out of his memories. He watched the servant try to
ignore the girl on the bed. It agitated him that Mikel 
hadn't called a doctor to attend to her. "you told
me to come tell you when it was time."
	"So soon?" He asked bewildered, glancing at his 
watch. Indeed, it was nearly time for his 'guests'.
"Arrigato. I assume the others have already left?"
	"Hai, a few minutes ago. Sir, are you sure 
you'll be all right here by yourself?" Again he looked
Mikel up and down. He was a mess, having not bothered
to change his clothes after running through the 
woods earlier.
	"I appreciate your concern. Please engage the
alarm on your way out." Michael turned his gaze back
to the bed. He heard a few more sputters from the 
man before a shuffling of feet as the door swung
shut.
	Mikel kneeled at the bed, pushing Celeste's
bangs off her forehead. "We have company coming,
my dear." There was no response from the occupant
on the bed. "But who should I send to meet them,
do you think? The man, or the Devil?"
	  
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Ahem... This chapter is way overdue. Its been a nearly
a year since I posted for this story. Gomen! I've had
a lot of stuff going on in my life recently, been a
busy little ecchi-grrl ^_^v. Hopefully, I'll get another
chapter out soon!

As always, thanks to all my buddies on e-group. Without
you guys I would probably NEVER post. And thanks to everyone
who e-mailed me! I've actually gotten some replies recently
that made me decide to post this chapter. It wasn't 
exactly the way I wanted it, since I had hoped to make it
longer and more detailed, but I'm beginning to think I'll 
*never* finish it if I don't get something out. As always,
I'd love to hear from you reading! It motivates me to 
write ^_^v Thanks!

Questions? Comments? Arrows?
emporess88@hotmail.com
http://www.geocities.com/emporess888/

-Age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill.

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