Phoenix held him as he cried. It was all she could do really. Darken, feeling bad, put his wings over her, so the rain wouldn't soak her too much. He held her tight around the wait, so grateful for her to be there, but still so shocked at the loss of his friend Sachiel.

Phoenix ran her hands through his black hair and stroked his cheek. She had only comforted someone like this once, when she and Darken had first met. She had tried to understand, touching his very soul so she could understand the depths of his pain.

Now he's there again, she thought sadly. Sachiel was like his brother. And for him not to have been there, not to be able to help--it's killing him.

"R-romanova," he sobbed. "Sachiel's dead."

"I know," she whispered. And in truth she had, with no one telling her. Ever since the soul-merge with Darken they had been linked in a way even Phoenix found herself at a loss to describe. There was something within him that was linked close to her, something that linked them. Perhaps it was her nature as a goddess, perhaps it was the power she could feel growing within him.

She kissed the top of his head. "How did it happen?" Phoenix asked gently. "Did they tell you?"

"T-they said," Darken began, his voice quavering. He took a deep breath. "They said he'd been killed by the techno-pirates."

He curled back up against her, leaning close. Darken had never held onto much--it was too painful when it was taken from him. He had lost his father before he even knew him, his mother soon after. Liandra had almost been killed, Maryna had. Kael had been killed by Lanicrus. And now, the one friend he cared for more than anyone was gone.

He sighed deeply, wearily and rested against her. He held his wings over them, until the rain subsided.

Sandalphon stood on the bridge of the Warlock. He found himself taking very deep breaths as he looked around the bridge. Most of the stations were empty, of course--only now were the pre-flight checks getting underway. But he had wanted that--he needed to be alone.

His white-gloved hand traced the contour of the captain's chair. How did it ever become so desperate, he mused. His mind drifted back, back to the conversation he had had had with the Seketha. The threats were nothing new--he had grown used to them. No, what disturbed him was what came later.

He sat in the chair and folded his fingers in front of him, just as he had that morning. In his mind he was watching Kirone again, shifting from Maryna back to her true self. No, he was looking past her now, to the Seketha that always seemed to be close by her.

As it had once been to me, he thought. And did it seem to be deferring to her, as though she was something to worship?

He felt the same sense of fear he had then. The Seketha had offered him everything he had wanted. Or so he thought. He wanted to lead his people to a promontory higher than any other race in the Spheres.

And for that, he had killed friends, enemies, and his king. Now he stood at the seat of power, alone at last. Even Alecto felt far from him now. He looked into the abyss where his soul had been, and it looked back at him.

Then he looked back up, through the prism shape his fingers were making. Outside the bridge window was the gleaming Imperial City, newly restored now after the battles with Lanicrus. And in the middle, the Dark Tower. It drew his eyes to it again and again. It was a cancer on the city, on his kingdom, on his soul.

The door to the bridge opened, and Alecto walked in, clad in her black and silver suit. "Father?" Alecto asked gently.

Sandalphon stood up, quickly. Alecto noticed he was wearing his red Lord Protector uniform, and not the purple robes of his Regency. She shrugged it off as minutiae.

"Alecto," he said, embracing her. "Thank you for coming."

"Father," she said firmly, her blue eyes piercing into his. "What is the meaning of this order you sent to me?" She held out a scroll with his seal on it. "I'm not to accompany you on the Warlock?"

"No," Sandalphon said. "I need you to go to Deianyra. There is something with must have from the old Fennec Temple."

Alecto was puzzled. "Isn't that where Darken Balckangel is?"

"He was," Sandalphon replied. The confidence and clarity of an old campaigner returned to his mind. "My spies tell me he's gone. No one is said to occupy the temple at the moment."

"And what am I supposed to get?"

"Kael, the ancient Fennec who used to maintain the temple, carried something with him," Sandalphon began. "He used it as a cane later in life, but it was an object of great power, and it is the key--literally--to our mission to Achromurcra."

"A key?" Alecto asked, beyond perplexed.

"That's right," Sandalphon said. "I'm giving you command of the Enchantress for this, in case you run into any trouble."
"Father, I'm not ready to command--"

Sandalphon turned, and took one of her small hand in his. "You are," he said gently. "You must be. Alecto, the battle we are about to wage is merely a distraction. Our enemy must be kept to the Machine Sphere until we have taken it for the Angels. The only way that can be done is with the Key."

Alecto turned away. "And you're sure I'm the person for this task?"

"My spies cannot do it," Sandalphon said. "And there is no one else in the Army I trust to succeed in this task. Alecto, you must bring the Key to us. Only then will we win the day."

Darken's eyes snapped open. He woke up with a start that almost sent Phoenix sprawling backwards. He helped her up, his eyes alive, as though he had figured out something.

"Romanova," Darken said. His chest was heaving with breath. "Something's wrong."

Romanova looked at him, wondering whether he wasn't cracking before her eyes.

"The techno-pirates wouldn't have killed Sachiel," he said. "It's not their way. They don't kill, and they don't blow up ships. They live off of the plunder they accrue. They couldn't afford that sort of waste."

"Maybe they've changed," Romavona asked. "Pirates aren't known for their codes of honor."

"These are," Darken said. "They wouldn't have destroyed his ship--it's too valuable. They wouldn't have killed Sachiel because it would mean war with the Angels, never mind he's my friend."

"So. . .what?" Romanova said, wishing that she had paid more attention to Darken's stories about this place sometimes. "Sachiel's not dead?"

"I don't know," Darken said. "The only way I can know for sure is if I go see them."

Darken started back down the stone stairs of the temple. Phoenix followed him down, unsure of just what was going on.

Darken made his way to where Gailion and Tralesta were sitting. They were examining Kale's old cane, gently opening panels and studying its mechanisms.

"Gailion," Darken began sternly. "I have to go."

"Why?"

"I have to go to the Skycity," Darken said. "It's about Sachiel."

"No. We need you here," Gailion said indifferently. "The prophecy--"

"To hell with your prophecy!" Darken shouted. "My friends life may be at stake. You know for too long, I've shrugged off everything that I want, that I dream of, in the name of your prophecy, of Kael's prophecy, of my mother and father's! I'm tired of it! I will not sacrifice another person I care about on the altar of what you want for me."

Gailion turned on him, shaking his fist. "I can make you stay," he said, his voice cold. "This is more important than Sachiel. If you leave, you could have more than his death on your conscience. Our entire existence is threatened."

Darken shoved his fist away. "Never again, Gailion," he repeated. "If it's between saving this world, and saving those I love, they will win every time. What good is your new world if there's no reason to live in it anymore?"

Tralesta jumped in front of him and tried to shove him. Before he was conscious of it, Darken swiped her legs out from under her. Phoenix drew her sword and leveled it against Traltesta's throat.

"Don't," she said to Tralesta. "You're not that fast."

"Try me," she sneered.

Gailion locked up with Darken, tying up his arms and wings so that Darken couldn't escape.

Just then, four white-hot beams of light struck the wall just a hair away from everyone. Liandra stood at the entranceway to the chamber, shocked.

"Just what are you all doing?" Liandra demanded angrily. Behind her, Tigerhawk stood, sword at the ready. Gailion let go of Darken and Phoenix put her sword away.

"We're leaving," Darken said.

"If you leave," Gailion said. "All is lost."

"Really?" Darken said, looking ruefully back him. "Well Gailion, if you're so damn sure you’re right, why don't you tell them about why you're really doing this. Tell them why you can't stand to hear any mention of the Angels, of Sachiel, of Sandalphon."

Gailion stood there, his long white hair matted to his face, trembling. He looked into Darken's eyes. He could see his vision of them change. He found he could no longer see Darken and his pupil, as a supplicant.

"Tell them," Darken repeated. "If they have to be ready to die at your order, they deserve to know why. Tell them."

Gailion stared at him. So many years ago, Darken had been his student. So many years ago, Darken would have done anything to please him.

So many years ago, he thought sadly.

"TELL THEM, DAMN YOU!" Darken shouted. "You haven't even told me! And I'm your chosen one."

Gailion turned away.

"That's what I thought," Darken said. "I'd never lead a group of people to their deaths without telling them why. Until you do that, how dare you try to lead anyone?"

Gailion hung his head low. It wasn't the words Darken was saying that hurt. It was the truth in them.

"Now," Darken said, his eyes looking to all of them. "I'm going to the Skycity. There's something about how Sachiel died that makes me very suspicious. Maybe it's tied into your prophecy Gailion, maybe not. But I have to know."

He took Phoenix's hand in his. "Romanova," he said. "Will you come with me?"

Phoenix nodded. Darken searched her eyes for a trace of emotion. He was rather surprised to find a bright glimmer of pride for him.

"Liandra," he said, looking at her. "Do you want to come?"

Liandra shook her head. Darken walked up to her and embraced her. "I understand. I'll be back, little sister," he said, kissing the top of her head.

Liandra held on for a time. If her eyes could have, she would have started to cry.

"Tigerhawk," he said, turning to him. "I want you to take care of her. My sister is an effective warrior, but if Gailion is right, she will still need protection."

"I will," he said softly, putting an arm around her. "Be well, little cub."

Darken turned to Gailion. Tralesta stood behind her master, giving Darken a look that could crack stone.

"Master," he said, calmer now. "I'll be back to help when I've sorted this out. Until then, please, give these people the truth. If they're willing to give you their lives in exchange, you owe them that."

Darken and Phoenix walked out of the chamber, out of temple. The only sound for a long time was their footsteps echoing in the halls of the temple.

When they finally walked outside, Phoenix wrapped her arms around him.

"Darken," she said softly. "Are you sure we should do this? Is it really worth that much to you?"

"There's more going on here," Darken said. "I know it--I feel it. Besides, Sachiel saved me from Kirone a long time ago. I owe it to him."

"And the techno-pirates?" Phoenix asked. "You expect them to help you?"

Darken took flight and Phoenix summoned her fiery aura, taking wing as well.

"Yes I do," Darken said. "Because I saved them once."

In her personal chambers in the Dark Tower, Kirone luxuriated. She was herself again, free from that accursed angel-form. It felt good to be herself again, and it felt even better to expand the limits of her powers, especially as they seemed to have increased by such an amazing degree since she and Garuda had been together.

She had spent most of her time reading through Kale's old book, attempting more complex magics. But she found the books were all but useless. She could summon most of the higher-level magic without need of rituals or talismans.

The familiar feeling of the Seketha, reaching towards her mind interrupted her.

"What do you want?" Kirone asked impatiently.

"We have fearful news, my lady," the Seketha began, his voice almost humble. "There is a report of two of our ships destroyed."

"What?" Kirone asked, shocked. "By whom?"

"The reports of the survivors said the assailant was Yrouel."

"Yrouel?" Kirone repeated. "The Angel of Fear? But he's dead. Sandalphon killed him. He told me so. In any case, how can one man destroy an entire Skyship?"

"We are not certain."

"I'm shocked," Kirone said. "You usually know everything."

"In this case, we do not have enough information. There were no Seketha aboard the skyships."

"Why not?" Kirone demanded. "I thought one of your were always supposed to be on the ships, to better communicate with us. Never mind that you're the only beings who understand the technology . . ."

Kirone stiffened. She remembered Sandalphon's morning announcement.

"Have the ships for the Machine Sphere excursion left yet?"

The Seketha nodded.

"Did they have a Seketha on board?"

The Seketha nodded again. "On all ships, as far as we know, including Sandalphon's command ship."

"Hmm," Kirone mused, more to herself than to the Seketha. "And was Sandalphon aware of them?"

"Not as far as we know."

Kirone looked away, back out the window of the Dark Tower.

What are you planning, Sandalphon?

Far away, in Deianyra, the silver-haired young woman made her way through crowded city streets, through hagglers on the street markets. She had taken the precaution of cloaking herself in a long grey cape, in case she was recognized from her last visit.

That wouldn't have done at all, she thought. She made her way into one of the smaller alleys, and for not the first time since her arrival she was amazed at how choked this place was with people. Human, like herself. In her last visit she had seen nearly every kind of being--Angel, Vampire, Machine. Humans were a rare sight.

She heard a set of shuffling footsteps behind her, silent, except to her trained ears. Thieves, she thought. She wheeled in the direction of the sound, her back to the wall.

There were five of them, in fact. They were dirty, barefoot, the very picture of street urchins. They drew their knives, and she felt her hand go unconsciously to her sword, Gryphonforcer. She opened her cloak that they could see what she was armed with.

They didn't move. She took her hand off of the sword. She didn't need it, she reasoned, and more than that, she didn't want it. It had made things too difficult before. She would handle this herself.

They came on her, trying to surround her. She put her back against the wall, and seized one of the thieves' arms, slamming him with all her might into the masonry of the wall. She punctuated that with a kick to small of his back, which sent him spasming to the floor.

One of the others was on her now, and almost drove his knife into her face. As it was, it tore a swatch of her hood off. She seized his knife-arm and snapped the bone with an abrupt twist, then shoved her elbow into his throat, crushing his voicebox. He went limp in her arms, she threw him aside like a crumpled-up piece of paper.

She jerked the hood from her face. Her silver hair billowed out and her silver eyes glowed with fearful intensity. Her nerves were dancing in her body, she felt alive. She beckoned with her white-gloved hand to the other two. "Come on, then," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. "Come on and die."

They seemed to think it over, then threw their knives down and ran. She adjusted her cloak, drawing the hood over her soft features. She brushed her silver hair out of sight.

Her chest heaved with breath as she tried to calm down. She had only ever been able to find joy in the fight, until recently. Things had changed, she had changed, and she wasn't exactly sure how.

All she knew was she had to find the person who started this whole thing in her.

Take some time, he had said. Find out what you want out of this life.

She had taken the time and found out. She just wasn't sure he would understand what she wanted.

Darken, she thought, seeing him in her mind, painting him with emotions equal parts hopeful and sad. She caught a reflection of herself in a puddle as she walked out of the alley. She kicked it, not liking what reflected back at her.

"Commander," Sandalphon said, his voice tight and controlled. "Are we ready?

"Yes, sir," his second replied, clipped and to the point. He could feel the Warlock's engines straining--he had ordered them to maximum speed in an effort to get them underway as soon as possible.

"Excellent," he said. "Communications, please."

The communications officer waved to him, signaling communications were open.

"Sandalphon to all ships," he began. "Prepared to open a gate at once. Destination: Achromurcra. Standby for signal once every ship has entered the gateway."

He signaled termination of contact. He stood up. "Ciriel," he said, turning to his second. "I'll be in my office. Please notify me when we are safely in gateway."

His second nodded. Sandalphon retreated to his office, and opened his own communication line with the Enchantress.

"Alecto," he said, keeping his voice low. "Are you ready."

"Yes I am Father," she said. "Though I wish I was going with you."

"You'll see me soon," Sandalphon said. "Alecto . . .remember . . .whatever happens, whatever you learn later in life . . .will you remember that I always loved you?"

Alecto's voice held a kind of curiosity. "Father, what do you mean? Nothing's going to happen."

"I just wanted you to know," he said. "Just in case."

"I will, Father," she said. "And I'll be there."

"I know you will," Sandalphon said.

The communication crystal stopped glowing, just in time for Sandalphon to feel that familiar coldness in his mind again. He sighed wearily.

"What do you want now?" Sandalphon asked.

As if in answer, the Seketha appeared before him. "We wish to know the purpose of this mission. It's true purpose, Sandalphon." There was a palpable hint of malice to his words.

"You know the true purpose," he replied calmly. "We're going to speed your plan along by seizing the Machine Sphere."

"You are lying," the Seketha said angrily. His hand closed, and Sandalphon could feel the pain in his chest, a great taloned hand crushing heart and lungs. "You will tell me the true nature of your plan--now."

"I . . .told . . .you," Sandalphon said. He stood up, despite the pain. The Seketha took a step back. "You're in my mind," he said, gasping for air. "You see it."

"We . . .cannot see," the Seketha said, stepping back. "Your mind has become . . .difficult . . ."

"You can't?" Sandalphon said. He focused past the pain as best he could, but he knew if he didn't so something soon his heart would burst.

"You seek to confuse us," the Seketha said.

"Is . . .it working?" Sandalphon said. "After all I've done--all you made me do, now you can't . . .see it? You can't see what I think, what I feel, what I'm planning?"

The Seketha took a step back, its green eyes widening with something that looked suspiciously like fear.

Sandalphon stood before him, sweat pouring off of his brow. A smile crossed his face. The effort of it was like lifting a city above his head. His hand slowly reached for his sword--Bardiel's sword, the blade he had taken from his friend after he had killed them, at their order.

Before the Seketha knew what was happening, Sandalphon had drawn the sword. In a backhanded swipe, the Seketha was cut from hip to opposite shoulder. Sandalphon felt the beast's death-scream in his mind, so loud that it caused blood to run from his ears and nose.

Sandalphon collapsed, bracing himself against the desk. Gradually his breathing returned to normal and he was able to rise. But the Seketha was gone. He wiped the sweat and blood from his face as best he could.

He was free, for a time, but for his plan to succeed, they all had to be. He had made sure Alecto's ship was safe, but there had been no time to sweep the rest of the fleet's.

Ciriel entered the room. "Sir," he began. "The fleet is in gate-space."

Sandalphon activated his communication crystal. "Sandalphon to all ships," he said. "Come to a complete stop. Send a score of warriors to your engine rooms and dispose of any strange beings you may find there."

One of the captains muttered a strange question. "Don't question me, Captain," Sandalphon replied. "Just do it. This is part of an elaborate attempt by our enemy at sabotage. Only after we have cleansed our ships of all intruders will we resume. We have to stop in gate-space because otherwise, they are invisible to us. Is that clear, Captain?"

"Yes, Lord Regent."

"Good," he said. He sheathed his sword. Ciriel looked on, in silent admiration of his commander. "There should, if my spies can be trusted, be at least 10 of them on every ship. Make their deaths particularly unpleasant. Message ends."

With a flourish, he snapped the communication crystal off. He and Ciriel returned to the bridge.

"Maintain contact with all ships," Sandalphon said to his communications officer. "I want an exact count of intruders. And upon our arrival at Achromurcra, I shall want a courier dispatched to Lord Protector Miral's ship with this."

He handed the communications officer a golden cylinder, with a wax seal over it. The officer noted with some surprise that Sandalphon had used his own crest, and not the crest of the Royal House. He shrugged it off--a communications officer didn't ask such things.

"Sir," Ciriel said. "Reports are coming in. "Creatures have been found and destroyed, 10 per ship, as reported." Shall we get underway now?"

"Yes," Sandalphon said, sitting down in his captain's chair. It begins, he thought. The beginning of hope, and the end of my life. If I must die, then I will die with my own mind, and my people will be free of those who would use us.

"Best speed to Achromurcra," he said, his voice calm and confident.