Valeryn jumped up.  That sound, that horrible sound.  He searched the skies for the source of the waling.  Rings of violet and red swirled and filled the sky.  Gasping, he couldn’t breathe.  His azure skin paled.

Kahlil grabbed his arm, “That is Nahimanna.”

“My God, Adir,” Valeryn jerked his arm free and ran toward the doleful sound.  He pulled his red cape up on his shoulders, and prepared to shed it if he needed to fight.  He could hear Kahlil and a couple other A’nath-ari-leen behind him.

Around the corner, he locked eyes with Dov Lavan, as he, Cythraul and the Ual-leen left the temple.  Something was wrong.  Sorrows drown Lavan’s eyes, a pain so sharp it crushed Valeryn.  Tears rushed into Valeryn’s eyes, *My God, what happened?*

Kahlil howled from the top of the stairs.

Valeryn spun around.

Adir Radd lay there, dead, in a pool of his own blood. 

The world shattered.  Each breath cut into his soul- each moment an affront to the horror on the threshold.  He willed with all of his heart for it to go away.  *It is only a trick of the light.*  He told himself, but he had to believe what he saw.

He looked into Kahlil’s eyes.

He just knew what Kahlil thought, and he walked up the stairs, trying not to look at Adir’s broken body.

With a singleness of purpose, they knelt down beside Adir and pressed their periapt hands into the warm blood.  A subtle nod between them, as they opened their periapts.  Lightning raged across the surface as the blood parted into four streams.

Valeryn looked to his left and saw Chiyo and Gillean on either side of Adir’s body.  The crimson rivers flowed up their periapts and into their robes staining their white robes red with blood.

Shivers rushed down his arm into the stone of the temple.  A white coffin grew from the steps, enveloping Adir’s body.  Four ethereal horses rose out of the ground carrying Adir aloft.  Valeryn nodded his approval to Kahlil.

The procession left the temple.  Valeryn saw Jeriah, Typhon, and Tien running toward them. 

“Master Radd is dead!”  He shouted on the verge of tears, “The day of wrath, the day that will bring the worlds to ashes, as foretold by the holy prophet.  What terror there will be when the Holy comes to judge all!” 

He remembered the day Adir wrote those words.  They didn’t make sense.  Adir had always encouraged them to fight with their words, but after this...  The galaxy could burn and it would not exhaust the rage in Valeryn’s heart.

They marched to the dock, and without a word boarded the ship.

Valeryn collapsed on the coffin and wept, his body convulsing as each wave of sorrow and loss crashed against him.  His beloved lay encased in marble, never to breathe again.  Nothing mattered anymore.

“I sent out a message to the faithful,” Kahlil said, “They are all en route to the Shrine.”

Valeryn wobbled his head to acknowledge that he heard, but he didn’t care.

The ship landed and he followed the etheric horses carrying the coffin into the Crimson Shrine.  In the center of the room under the highest dome, they laid the coffin to rest.

Valeryn knew that hours had passed, but his tears had not even slowed.

“I hate to be the one to ask,” Kahlil said, “But what do we do now?  This is a horrible time to ask, but the faithful are coming.  They will need direction.”

Silence flooded the Crimson Shrine.  No one dared to speak again, unwilling to allow themselves to say this horror was true.

Mourners entered, and knelt around the coffin.  One by one, they came from all over the galaxy.  One in spirit, they all sobbed in silence.

The Crimson Shrine filled beyond capacity.

Priests said their prayers and performed the rites for the dead.  Their voices echoed in the silent tears of the gathered throng. 

The doors opened.  A beautiful ebony skinned woman with lush black hair, wearing white pilgrim robes and a silver nail from a chain around her neck entered.

Valeryn recognized Nortia at once and sneered at her.  She visited Adir often, and each time left him increasingly agitated.

Nortia made her way through the multitude and sighed upon reaching the coffin.  She did not appear to be sad as much as she was concerned.

Another shadow passed the threshold as the mechanical, winged nightmare entered.  Nergal leered at Nortia.  She returned a venomous gaze.  Nergal loomed over one of the mourners dressed in black and red, who scurried out of his chair.  Nergal sat.

Nortia raised her arms to attract their attention back to herself.  “Your future is either in ashes or glory.  Follow your Master,” she rested her had gently on the coffin, “Not the hatred growing within you.”  Then she was gone.

Her voice lingered in the Shrine.

It took seven days for the wailing to end.

For the seventh morning, Valeryn awoke alone.  The bed seemed so empty and cold, which encouraged him to get up.

As he washed his face, he noticed some of the luminescence had returned to his skin.  He sighed, and got dressed.  He didn’t put on the red robe, instead he put on his old black tunic and pants.

He skipped breakfast.  Food was so unimportant now.  He began the solitary pilgrimage to the tomb.

Kahlil leaned up against the wall beside the door, “You cannot just mourn again today.”

Valeryn stopped, not even looking at him.

“We have to decide what we do next.  Adir used to run everything, now we have to fill the void.  There are a lot of devastated people that need guidance.”

*And I am one of them,* Valeryn thought, but he didn’t say anything.  He stopped walking, but he didn’t look at him.

“The A’nath-ari will not wait for long, we are on the verge of insanity.”

*A’nath-ari,* Valeryn thought, *Noble Order of Blood... we are of the Blood, not the Red Moon...  Adir Ari, Wuuarrn guu gian, luran oarrsiin.*

“You should strike back,” Nergal said from above them as he glided down towards them with his mechanical wings outstretched.  “Revenge against Lavan and his minions is the most logical path.  They have to pay for what they did.”  Hatred burned his words.

Valeryn shook his head solemnly, “Adir would not want that.  He would have wanted us to follow the path he laid out.”

“By killing Lavan, we do both!” Kahlil spoke up.  “The Beloved Master taught us that we had to stop the Ual-leen before the darkness came into the world.  There is but a little time left to fulfill his wishes.  I agree with Nergal, we have to strike back.”

*Wuuarrn guu gian, luran oarrsiin.*  Valeryn sighed, “There is more to all of this than we can see.  A goddess came to Adir’s...” the word hung in the back of his throat, “...funeral.  Don’t you think that means something.  There are things we are not seeing.”

“I cannot believe that you of all people don’t want revenge,” Kahlil snapped.

*If it would bring Adir back, I would have already ripped him limb from limb with my own hands.*  Valeryn steadied himself, “I would rather see his work finished.  If we distract ourselves from his blessed vision, we would betray his memory.”

“This was his vision,” Nergal snapped, “He saw the galaxy on fire.  He foresaw his murder, and our retaliation.”

Valeryn refused to inhale.  He held his anger like a child in his arms, singing soothing songs to lull it off to sleep.  No good would come from striking Nergal down.  “He saw the Seven Arms burning, and founded the order to save it, not to set the fire!”

“That is your interpretation,” Nergal smiled at him through slit eyes, “You are entitled to your opinion, but the words are very clear.”

“But...”  Kahlil said as he backed away from them, “Valeryn knew Adir best.”

“But he is not Adir, is he,” Nergal’s contempt dripped from his words.  Raising his wings, he sneered at Valeryn, “If anyone is an obvious successor, it is me.  Adir and I founded the Order.  We built the Crimson Shrine.  He is dead, and I am the one left to lead the Order forward, and unlike the two of you, I am not encumbered by any unnecessary sentimentality.”

Valeryn refused to breathe again.

“Now is not the time for this,” Kahlil closed his eyes as he spoke, “We should collect all of Adir’s things, and figure out what to do with them first.  Then we will ask the faithful who they want to lead them.”

Nergal flapped his wings, and flew out of their sight.

Kahlil squeezed Valeryn’s shoulder.  “I am sorry to rush you into this, but I thought it would shut him up.”

Valeryn nodded slightly.  “The sooner we deal with all of this the better. I cannot put it off forever.  Every time I see something of his, it tears me apart.”

Kahlil couldn’t respond.

Taking a deep breath, Valeryn turned, and headed back toward the parsonage. 

Through the wooden door, he refused to inhale.  Opening his mouth, he let himself take in the air.  It still smelled like Adir.

He walked across the room, up the stairs and down the hall to the lonely closed door.  He nodded.

Kahlil walked around him and opened the door.

Papers were strewn all over the place.  They covered the three desks and spilled over onto the floor.  The bookshelves were crammed full of books in rows and stacked across the top.  No space was left empty.

Kahlil waded carefully through the papers and took a seat in a chair near the corner farthest from the door.

It took Valeryn a long time before he could enter the office, and even more time before he could start gathering up papers.  Every jot on every page resonated within him.  He felt like we was soaking it all in, even though he paid little to no attention to the contents of each paper.

After a couple hours of sorting, he found himself sitting behind Adir’s desk.  Opening the top right drawer, he lost his momentum.  Inside, he found a small wooden box.

Seven amber and ivory eyes were inlaid into the rich cherry wood, one on each point of a seven pointed star etched into the surface.  Five thin disks were inlaid within the star, one atop the next in a clockwise pattern: black, blue, red, gold, white.  A black stone had been fit into the black socket, but the others where empty.

Valeryn pulled it out of the drawer and sat in on top of the desk.  Pushing the box open, he marveled at the fine grains of white sand.

Letters scratched themselves into the sand as if by an unseen hand, “Hello Valeryn, Adir told us a lot about you.  Tell Kahlil to come over.”

Valeryn jumped back, “My God, Kahlil, there is a demon in this box.”

Kahlil rushed over.

“I am no demon!”  The sand wiped itself clear, “I am merely speaking to you through the Earth Scroll.”

“The what?”  Kahlil asked.

“The first of the five books of the Parcae.”

The blood drained from Valeryn’s face, “You are a Book of Fate...  Adir said he had access to the Oracles of Nortia...  I always thought he meant his visions.”

“He spoke of me, The Earth Scroll, The book of the Science of the Martial Arts.”

Valeryn dug through Adir’s papers, and journals until he found one on the Oracles of Fate.  Thumbing through its pages, his eyes slid over Adir’s hopes and fears, as well as his quest to find the four other scrolls.

“If I can master the Arts of the Parcae,” Adir wrote, “I just know that I will be able to save Dov.  The once fertile lands of the spirit have withered and hardened.  If we are not careful the harrow will come to break up the fallow ground.”

Valeryn looked up from the journal, “Adir thought these scrolls held the key to saving Dov and preventing the war.  If we can find the other ones... it might not be too late.”

“If Adir didn’t trust fate so blindly, he would still be...” Kahlil caught the last word on his tongue and forced it back down his throat.

Valeryn wilted, “He trusted her, because she used to visit him often.  She spoke so confidently...  If he believed these scrolls could keep the galaxy from burning, we should send the A’nath-ari after them.”

Kahlil pulled his lips tight and shifted his posture preparing to argue, then simply nodded.

Valeryn hopped to his feet and rushed out of the parsonage into the canyon.  The dragons Adir and Nergal made lined the cliff face over the Crimson Shrine and watched him intently.  He had never seen them behave like this.

Running into the Shrine, he turned left, and hurried to the bell tower.  He pulled on the rope with all his strength.

Bong- the bell called out to the faithful – Bong.

Going back into the Main Hall, he looked nervously at Kahlil.

“What is wrong with the dragons?” Kahlil asked.

“I told them to guard the Shrine,” Nergal answered above him, “We need to be sure that our enemies do not come after us.”  He grinned wickedly at Valeryn and arched his eyebrow, “And there is no one to answer your call.  I gave them their orders, and sent them out.”

Valeryn and Kahlil stiffened.

“Soon, Ual-leen temples throughout the galaxy will erupt in flames.  Vengeance will be ours.”  Nergal chuckled.

As one, Kahlil and Valeryn ran to the communications room in the crypt.  They scrambled from console to console.  No network to be found.

“We have to stop him,” Kahlil whispered.

Valeryn nodded, “You contact the faithful, stop them before it’s too late.  I will find the scrolls.  I know someone who may know where they are.”

They nodded to one another.

Back up the stairs, out of the Shrine, and over to the parsonage.  Leaping three steps at a time, he bounded to the office.  He grabbed the Earth Scroll and Adir’s notebook.

Back out in the canyon, he ran away from the Shrine to his ship.  The ship looked like a giant’s knuckler with only one blade spanning the front of it.

The hatch opened, and he rushed in, ordering the ship to launch.

Sitting in the only seat in the small control filled cockpit, he pulled out Adir’s Journal and started skimming it, looking for any hint of where to go.

“My correspondence with Naaman on A-ment has proven useful,” Adir wrote, “But he is reluctant to tell me everything I need to know.  I am not sure what I did to offend him, but I can see he holds the key.”

Valeryn set course for Hermopolis Parva on A-ment, and sent word to reserve a berth at the local caravansary.

Leaning back in his chair to read the journal, a cold chill raced down his spine.  He sighed.

“What do you want Sulwyn?” Valeryn said coldly.

Sulwyn Avrum twisted into the doorway.  His gold armor looked dull in the starlight.  His light blue skin shown a little brighter than Valeryn’s, but his yellow eyes were dull and vacant.  A deep scar ran across his face.

“You were always quick on your feet,” Sulwyn’s voice was labored and raspy, “Your playtime with the fleshlings is done, the Empyrean needs you.  It is time to come home.”

Valeryn chewed on his lower lip.

“Come on, play time is over.  This is important.”

“What I am doing is important!  The Empyrean could never understand that, but I hoped you would.  These people matter.”

Sulwyn looked through Valeryn, “There is war...” the words seemed to escape his mouth, “Cythraul has rallied an army and has attacked the Empyrean.  He has declared his intention to claim the throne for himself.  A quarter to a third of the population have sided with him.  We need all the help we can get.”

“When I am finished, I will come and...”

“You don’t understand.  He has amassed three armies, two here and one in the Empyrean, if he moves all three together, we cannot stand against him.”

Valeryn shook his head, “I have to find the Scrolls of the Parcae, then I will come back.”

“But if he gets the Ara’lus to attack home...”

“What did you say?” Valeryn’s skin flashed a flat white.

“I said, if he can get his generals, the Ara’lus to attack the Empyrean.”

“Ara’lus?”

Sulwyn nodded cautiously, “Ara’lu Lavan and Ara’lu Nergal.  We think he named them in Shedu, the ‘Blood Sealers.’”

Valeryn looked off into the distance, “He didn’t.  Ara’lu is a Shin’an proper name.  I have been living with Nergal for... years.  He said he broke free from Cythraul.”

“Our intelligence believes they are still working together.”

“Send out the order, all Raewyn need to be on the lookout for people in crimson robes.  Nergal has taken control of the A’nath-ari.”

Sulwyn swallowed hard, “The Empyrean Orders you to find Cythraul.”

“I will.”

Nodding, Sulwyn forced a smile, then turned through space and twisted out of sight.

Valeryn reached down next to him and pulled out the Earth Scroll.  For the rest of the Journey to A-ment, he devoured all of the information it shared as fast as he could.  He had to hurry.  Nergal had to be stopped before he tainted Adir’s memory.

Twisting out of hyperspace over A-ment, Valeryn couldn’t help but notice what an unremarkable place it was- A little blue and green marble in space. Flying through the orbiting gate he exited over Hermopolis Parva.

The dirty gray buildings were anything but inspirational.  They each looked like they had been cut by the same die and packed together as tightly as possible.  Next to the verdant green woodlands they looked particularly out of place.

After landing and paying the berth fee, he left the city as fast as he could.  Making his way through the forest of signs in numerous languages, each pointing the way to Katha and offering low cost keepsakes to remember the Holy Well of Urd, he navigated through the packed streets of noisy pilgrims in their white robes.  Each one had a look of reverence on their face that Valeryn envied.  He wished he could believe.  The raw smell of sweat and dust nearly choked him.

A squat, old man dressed in a pilgrim's white robe smiled and nodded at him.  His white hair and beard framed his wrinkled, olive skin.  “She said you would come.”

Walking up to the man, “Do I know you?”

“No, Valeryn, you don’t, but Nortia told me to keep an eye out for you.  I have, and now I can return to my meditations.”  He turned around and walked off.

Valeryn was taken aback, “What?  You are telling me the Goddess of Fate told you to wait for me,” he followed after him, “And once you find me, you are done?”

“She didn’t say anything else, only that I was to wait for you,” he said very matter-of-factly, “I have, now you are here, my work is done.”

“Just who are you?”  He was frustrated and confused, the little man had no trouble weaving through the crowd, while people kept cutting in front of Valeryn.  Finally catching up to him, “Can you tell me who you are?”

“I am Naaman, first of the Shepherds, as the people who invaded my hermitage insist on calling themselves.’ He sighed and shook his head, “Nortia wants me to teach them, and so I do.”

Valeryn’s eyes widened, “Naaman, you have to help me.  You were corresponding with Adir Radd.”

“Shame what happened to that boy,” he repeatedly clicked his tongue, “But we both saw it coming.”

“I need your help finding the Scrolls of the Parcae.”

Naaman shook his head, “You cannot expect me to just give someone with your associations that information.”

“But I have to stop Cythraul before the war...”

“What was that?”  Naaman stopped, “But you are allied to Ara’lu Nergal.” He shuddered.

“No I am not.  He is my enemy.”  That felt good to say.

“After Nergal, I have not helped others easily.  He was such a nice man.  It is a damn shame what happened to him.”

“What happened?”

Naaman wet his lips, “Cythraul used to use the fame of the Well of Urd to lure people to him.  Once they began studying with him, he used those abominable periapts to cripple them.”

“How?”

“Power is addictive- Easy power all the more so.  Cythraul twisted Nergal into the monster he is today.  I refused to help Adir because I did not want the scrolls to fall into their hands.”  Naaman nodded several times as if someone was talking to him.  “I will tell you how to get the Water Scroll, follow me.

Naaman led Valeryn up a barely visible footpath to a small thatch cottage surrounded by tents.

Within the small four room cottage, Naaman dug through a box of miscellaneous fabric things.  “I have to warn you.  No one drinks in the knowledge without a price.  There is always a trade off- in every gain there is loss.  You have to know that before you make the bargain.”

“What do I have to give up?”

“Every person pays a different price.”

Valeryn strode into the Temple of Nortia.  Fear wrestled with his need to save Adir’s vision, but it only managed to make him queasy.

The small stone well in center of the room looked like any of the dozens he had seen before.  The only major difference was the font in the front gushing water into a small pool encircling the base and running back into the well.

Kneeling before the font, he focused his mind, and recited the prayer Naaman had taught him.  He had not prayed in years.  It was not as easy as he thought it would be.  Something held him back.  He started the prayer several times, but kept stopping.

“Why?” he said finally, “Why did you take Adir away from me?  You showed him events eons away, but could not show him a way to save his own life.”  Tears pooled in his eyes, but this time he was able to get the prayer out.

A luminescent jet of blue water shot from the font.

Valeryn pulled the wineskin from his belt that Naaman gave him and collected the Water Scroll.

“It is worse than you know...” a woman said behind him.

Valeryn did not turn.

“I possessed him... He died because of me.  I could not see Cythraul’s control over Lavan.  I just couldn’t see it.”

Lowering his head.  If he knew of a way to strike her down, to strike down the cause of all of his suffering, he would have.  “How?”  He could see himself strangling the life from her.  “You are the Goddess of Fate... how could you not foresee everything.”  Hate filled each word.

“I can only see patterns,” her body tensed, “Somehow Cythraul hid his actions from me.  Twice I have failed.  I lost Nergal, and now Adir.”

Nergal... the name poisoned his heart even more.  *She is no more than a pawn.*  He inhaled sharply, “Then maybe I should keep my distance from you.”

Nortia stepped back, “Not if you want my scrolls.  I am the Parcae.  I am the Spirit behind the Seven Eyes.  If you open the seals on all the books, my seven eyes will be free to roam the galaxy again.  I will not be so limited.  You need me.”

“Why?  So I can become another monster?  I know, I know, what is one more death for your holy cause?”

She hung her head down and her shoulders slumped.  “I did not mean for him to die.”

“But he did, and you are unable or unwilling to bring him back.”

“Necromancy is a dark art.  But I can help you!”

“What is the price for your aide?” Valeryn asked calmly.

“I need you to swear that you will not rest until you have defeated Cythraul.”

*I was going to do that anyway,* he thought, “Agreed, but there has to be a catch to it.”

“I want to make you my vessel, my champion, like Adir before you.”

“So you can possess me too,” Valeryn lurched toward her, then pulled back, “Why would I agree to such a thing.”

“I am the only chance you have of finding all of the scrolls, and you can only read them through my eyes.  Without me, they would be useless to you.”

“Maybe they are just useless!”

Nortia looked away.  “Millennia ago, I struggled against Heosphoros, and I nearly prevailed, until his sorcerers found a way to steal my power from me.  That is what the strolls are.  The knowledge of the Arts of Fate.  If you learn these arts, you will see the web of cause and effect.  You will know where to strike to achieve your goal.”  She paused.

Valeryn’s eyes widened at the thought of it.  He would know how to stop Lavan and Nergal.

“You see why Adir wanted them.  They are the key to right action.  The knowledge and the power to accomplish it are bound to the scrolls.”

Valeryn knelt before her.  “Take me for your champion.”

Nortia touched his temples with her forefingers and closed her eyes.  His body faded as a light swirled around her.  Patterns filled the air.  Circles, stars, and crosses, each lined with strange letters.

Her body melted into a shimmering blue vortex of light and heat, and flowed into Valeryn, who winced.

Pressure crushed his chest.  The dazzling lights swam around him.  Finally, he screamed.  All the light entered his body.  Etheric blue wings erupted from his back.

*What have I done?*

Images of a volcano and a mountain peak flashed in his mind.  He knew where the fire scroll was.