Darken Blackangel idly moved the pencil over the paper on the table in front of him. He was tired, tired beyond all reason, and being trapped where he was wasn't helping at all.

He looked up from the paper at the speaker. King Matariel, the ruler of the angels of Nycheladra was droning on about the recent battles. Darken felt his eyelids grow heavy. He had been there, of course, at the battles. They had cost him a lot, but then he had gained a lot too. Funny how it all worked out, he thought.

"Therefore with the enemy forces destroyed, and the gates to their spheres sealed shut, I feel there is no reason for our peoples to stay at their current level of alertness," Matariel said. "My Seraphim have been patrolling the four spheres for many months, with no sign of them. What do you think Darken?"

Darken's head snapped up, his thoughts popped like a soap bubble in the air. He stood up, slowly, gathering his thoughts. "With respect King Matariel, I disagree," he began.

"You do?" Matariel said. "But the vampires and the Fallen have been destroyed."

"I doubt that," Darken said. "We destroyed their fleet, and the Skyshadow, but I know Kirone Witchfire," he said. "She found a way to survive. Even now she's probably planning a way to get back. Once she gets a way to cross the spheres, she'll come again, and we need to be ready."

"I see," Matariel said. "Perhaps there is room for compromise here. I will agree to keep up the patrols, but with substantially limited numbers of Seraphim. I hope that's agreeable to you."

"It will have to be, won't it?" Darken said. As bad as the meeting was, he had really been hoping he could maintain the patrols. His mentors had always taught him that the peace after a war was more dangerous than the war that had precipitated it.

"If that's settled," Matariel began. "I think that's all. Dismissed."

The meeting broke up, Darken made a beeline for the hallway outside, banging his black and red wings on the doorway as he walked out and nearly snagged his red tunic in the door. His friend, Sachiel, chased after him.

"Darken," he began, chasing after him. "Where in the name of Taruga are you going?"

"I've got things to take care of," Darken said. "Things that have, thank the light, very little to do with soldiers, armies, Kirone, and everything else on these forsaken spheres."

"This wouldn't be something for her, would it?" Sachiel said. Though they had been rivals once upon a time, they were now the closest of friends. Sachiel was one of the few people Darken trusted implicitly. Oh, the rest were close to him, to be sure, but Sachiel had always been there, even when there was no coalition to battle Kirone.

"Yes," Darken said. "It is, my friend. Tell me, just how do you know what Leiliel wants?"

"I don't," Sachiel said, laughing. "I just try as best I can. Why do you ask?"

"I. . .ah. . .well," Darken began. "I've been doing some thinking about. . .her."

"Thinking how?"

"Sachiel. . .I'm going to ask her to marry me," Darken said. There was a nervous quaver to his voice Sachiel picked up on instantly. Darken had been trained since his birth to fight enemies of all kinds, but seeing him struggle with love and the responsibilities it made him want to take on was startling to him.

Sachiel smiled. "Well, I think congratulations are in order then," he said, smiling. "May the goddess Phoenix smile on you both."

Darken hid a smile. What Sachiel didn't know was that his goddess Phoenix was the woman in question. Darken had walked a fine line with Sachiel and the rest of his friends. Balancing a relationship and the collapse of his friends theology was hard work.

"But I should warn you," Sachiel said. "I've been in meetings with my father. The new alliance needs a leader, but none of the present kings could do it--they're too many internal difficulties. They want someone all the races trust to head up the alliance."

Darken's face fell. "Oh no," he said. "Please tell me this is a joke."

"I'm sorry, no," Sachiel said. "The new leader of this alliance is to be you, Darken Blackangel."

Darken looked around for a nice wall to pound his head against.

"Mistress," Monstructor began. "I regret to say that reconstruction of the Skyshadow proceeds. . .slower. . .than anticipated."

He bowed, his gaunt frame and shock of blue hair, bending like a reed in a strong wind. "I am deeply ashamed, my queen. I have created as many drones as I am able, but the problem goes deeper than the damage to the ship."

Kirone Witchfire looked down on him. Her gray eyes radiated a cold fire. She brushed her red hair out of her face, and continued to regard her.

"Tell me," she said. Her voice was joyless, with a current of arrogance.

"The problem is with the ship's engines. We have nothing that can re-ignite the furnaces.. Never mind, the other problem of reduced manpower. Our war machine's replication cylinders are damaged beyond repair. Even my drones cannot repair them."

Kirone slammed her fist on the side of her chair and screamed a curse. Monstructor recoiled in fear. Kirone had been known to kill those who displeased her.

But she made no move, she merely rose to her feet. "Then, if we can find no army, perhaps what we need is a force of one."

"I do not understand, my queen," Monstructor said.

Kirone moved toward a bank of machinery. "No," she said distractedly. "Of course you don't. I've been scanning nether space, trying to find a weak point in the barrier between our sphere and those outside. I found something. A soul, a form, something, but it's very powerful."

Monstuctor adjusted his glasses and peered at the data on the machine. "Yes," he said. "Great power indeed. That could be what we need to repair our ship."

"I have other ideas," Kirone said. "Monstructor, can we pull it back to us?"

"It's possible," he replied, rubbing his chin. "The science is possible. But it will need an anchor in realspace to hold out here."

"Oh," Kirone, said, smiling. "I can manage that. In the meantime, I have something else I need from you. Follow me."

Kirone began to walk out of the control room, her blue cloak swaying behind her. The faceless drone, the Daltrons, guarded every door. Some, never repaired from the battle with the other spheres, had pieces missing, circuits exposed. Their army was in disrepair.

She signed, trudging on. Their army had once been on the edge of victory. She had almost fulfilled her destiny to rule. . .but then Darken Blackangel had intervened.

Damn him, she thought. She and Darken were two sides of a prophecy older than either of them. It had been written after the Great Darkness War that one who was of two would come to rule all. Kirone had been born the daughter of a vampire and a fallen angel. Darken was the son of an angel and a dragon.

Kirone was determined to be the one who ruled. To that end, she had trained herself in the arts of sorcery, and educated herself in the ancient knowledges, of the sciences that led to the Great Darkness War. It was this knowledge that had led her to the room she now walked through.

"Here we are," Kirone said. She gestured to the object on a large obelisk in front of her.

"Mistress?" Monstructor asked, puzzled. He looked at the object. It was made in the shape of a man, but formless, wrong, somehow. While Montstructor could create drones in the image of men, he rarely did so. The idea was offensive to him somehow.

"I've been giving things a lot of thought, Monstructor," Kirone said, picking up an object on a nearby table. "With a smaller army, and no way to create a new one, we need powerful allies. This will be one of them."

She let her fingers caress the formless matter on the table. "The term is clone, at least according to the ancient text. I have material, in this matter, from Darken's body. With your science, and my sorcery, we will breathe life into him."

Darken took wing, flying as fast and as far from the palace in Nycheladra. He had an appointment, to keep, and Matariel's droning on had just put him that far behind. He had to get to the gate, as soon as he possibly could.

He pushed his wings to the limit, straining the muscles in his wings to their limit. He could feel the wind whipping against his clothes and his hair. He was calling in a lot of favors, he had to. Romanova meant that much to him.

It hadn't always been that way, of course. He had fallen into her realm trying to kill himself, after he had lost his first love, Maryna. Romanova had touched his soul in a way he hadn't understood for a very long time. From there, they had grown closer--Romanova longed to understand him, and he longed to be able to understand her.

It would make things so much easier.

He hit the gate, the Eagle Clasp at his chest sending a signal that directed him to his destination. Energy moved about him, moving him between world, across some, through others, until he was elsewhere.

He flew over the water below him, turning in the skies, circling a certain point in the water. Suddenly, the water began to churn, to shift as something rose higher and higher from the depths.

Darken beat his wings, hovering above the water. Suddenly, a gigantic ammonite-like creature rose from the water, breaking the tension with a roaring rush of water. Standing atop the creature was a woman, holding a ornate trident. Darken knew her well. She was Aemonie, the Kraken Queen.

He landed on the creature, bowing slightly to Aemonie. "I greet you Aemonie," he said. "I've come to call in my debt. Do you have it?"

Aemonie proffered Darken a small jewel, of the lightest blue Darken had ever seen. "It's a strange request," she said. "But for all you've done, I'm more than happy to repay you at last."

He held the jewel in his hand.. "Piasthree," he said. "The rarest stone that exists under the oceans of Ananta."

"It must be mean a great deal to you," Aemonie said.

"Not to me," Darken said. "This is for another."

Aemonie smiled. "Then I hope the intended bearer of the jewel is pleased. I hope she appreciates what you give her."

Darken looked at her. "I didn't say it was a woman."

"You didn't have to Darken," Aemonie said, a slight smile on her face. "You are a capable leader, an effective warrior, but you are also, I can see a hopeless romantic. One would not give a gift that important to just anyone."

"You're right," Darken said.

"Then go with my blessing," Aemonie said, waving him off. Darken spread his wings and took to the skies.

"Oh, and Darken?" Aemonie called. Darken hovered there, looking at her.

"Invite me to the wedding?" Aemonie finished, smiling slyly. Darken nodded, and flew off, heading toward the gate. He had one other stop before he went home, and he was already late.

Kirone was severely displeased. They had managed to improve upon the clone, adding mechanical apparatuses to boost it, but it was no use--the machine had no spark of life.

Kirone felt her blood seethe. "Damn this thing!" she said. "I don't have time for this!"

"My lady," Monstructor began. He knew how to tread carefully in the face of her wrath. "There might be a way. If we use a piece of nether space--just a fraction to power a reactor in his heart, he will have near-limitless power."

"If you have a suggestion Monstructor, tell me now," Kirone said. "Before your obsequiouness annoys me so bad I have to kill you."

Monstructor suppressed a slight tremble. He was used to this by now. "If we can bring through that power source, it might be possible to move a piece of nether space into positive space and shunt it to the clone. . .we could use it as the fuel to power him."

"Will that work?"

"Yes," Monstructor said. If we combine the Skyshadow's machines, your magic, and my transmutating skills."

Kirone leaned against the table, looking at the clone. Slowly, a smile crossed her lips. "Then we should begin at once, correct?"

Monstructor bowed. He gestured, and a web of energy emanated. Two green slug-like drones appeared from nowhere and went skittering down the hall, to the machines.

The drones tapped their mechanical legs on a sequence of buttons on the machine, sending a beam of energy to the space between worlds, latching onto the strange energy signature. Kirone began to chant, crating a spell that would link the clone, herself, and the form of energy in nether space.

Kirone smiled. It wouldn't be long now.

In nether space, a presence was stirring. It had had form once, but had been defeated, tricked. Tricked by Darken. Sent to this nether-realm.

In silence, it--she--had waited, her hatred burning deeply. Waited in silent darkness. But now--now, she felt something pulling, tugging at her.

Going to where? She didn't know. But anything was better than this nether existence, this life-that-wasn't. She moved towards it, her mind seething with fantasies.

She was fantasizing about Darken. Fantasizing about his death, and how many ways she could achieve it. She began to see her destination a bit clearer. It was a place--like Darken's--yes, it was Darken's realm. She stopped resisting, went with the flow, clawing her way to this new place.