Zenith Meria had travelled to the great Lake within the world of Arda. There he was standing dressed fully in his Resplendent Armour, he had the Resplendent Cloak on as well but for now the entire set of armour and cloak where covered up by a very long white cloak that the angel was known to wear a lot. There he stood looking onto the water, not even thinking of what was going on around him for the time being. The angel was lost within his own thoughts and did care, for that moment in time, what was happening around him really.

His thoughts were on his older brother, the Chaos Phoenix, known as Alba Meria. Thinking about Alba always seemed to enrage Zenith in the past but this time the angel seemed to be rather calm. Slowly he parted his lips and let out a deep sigh. His helm was not on for the moment and laid within the travel pack that was hanging on Zeniths side. The long hair on the Arch Angel of Life blew softly in the winds as he stood there, his deep blue eyes still set on the body of water ahead of him.

It was at that moment in time that a segment of a conversation between both Alba and Zenith came back to the great angel. The first words creeping into his mind being those of Alba, “All worlds begin in darkness, and all so end. The heart is no different. Darkness sprouts within it, grows, consumes it. Such is its nature. In the end, every heart returns to the darkness whence it came. You see, darkness is the heart's true essence.” On that day Zenith had said something back to his older brother that he would remember for the rest of his life. That thing being, “Your wrong Alba! The heart may be weak, and sometimes it may even give in. But I've learned that deep down, there's a light that never goes out!” Yes those very words would stay with the angel for as long as he lived from now.

Taking in this thought fully Zenith then managed to curl his lips into a smile. He was not back to be fully aware on all that was going on around him as the sounds of the birds within the trees returned to his ears as well as the sounds of the water flowing past him. Zenith let a small laugh play past his lips before saying out to the open air, “I was right Alba! The light within me is growing stronger by the day, and one of these days I will finally be able to break your darkness and return you to being the brother I loved all that time ago. I know there is good within you brother, I just need to find a way to bring it to the surface.” Once saying this a very small tear fell down the left cheek of Zenith Meria.

He cared about his brother so much and it ripped Zenith apart inside to know the things Alba had done, to know it was his older brother that killed his parents, his entire family! But as mad as Zenith got at these facts he could never fully hate his brother. After all it had been mainly Alba that raised Zenith in his early years of life so the Chaos Phoenix would always have a place within the heart of this angel. Yet at the very same time Zenith knew he had to kill Alba, to destroy the darkness that has taken over him and return his pure soul to the after world of Arda.

However hearing a loud crack in the woods behind him broke Zenith free from his thoughts. Quickly he turned to see whom or ever what was making an approach towards him and as he did so the covered up right hand of Zenith swiftly moved over to his left side gripping onto the hilt of his blade that lay beneath his cloak. If the entity heading near him was out to harm the angel then he was ready to defend himself fully!

Merenwen was wandering along and thinking about everything that had happened to her since the last time she had visited the lake. It was that last time when she had met Sartana and since then she had actually run into him a fair number of times. She thought back to that evening and how much more carefree she had been in comparison to now. She had known how to fight and been a little weary of the evil that roamed Arda but she hadn't had to face much of it yet.

Since then she had gotten into trouble a number of times and actually had to make use of the skills she had been taught in her youth. She tended to be more on her guard and spent more time worrying about who would turn up and what their plans would be. She had managed to get a nice set of armor and there were very few times when she wasn't wearing it. She had it on now even though she had come here to relax and she had her hair pulled back in order to keep it from blocking her vision of what was going on around her. Even with this weariness her eyes were twinkling in the sunlight and it was easy to tell that she was content in this place.

She didn't want to dwell on the things that had happened to her as the lake was a place she had come in order to relax. She pushed the intruding thoughts to the back of her mind and began to relish the feelings that she got from being by the water and in a world where natural beauty surrounded her. A salty smell filled her nose and warmth ran over her skin from the sun that bounced of the water. It was beginning to get late in the afternoon and the sun was slowly moving down through the sky but in all the world was lit splendidly.

Her eyes traveled over the clear blue waters of the lake and moved on to the foliage on the banks. She moved up the bank to the berry bushes, picked a few berries, and popped them into her mouth. She wasn't overly hungry but the berries were sweet and the taste caused her to pick a few more. She wandered along munching on the berries and thinking about how pleasant this place was. She wasn't paying much attention to what she was doing and thought herself to be alone. She hadn't noticed the angel standing by the water and so did not worry about making noise as she walked along.

It was as she stepped on a branch that snapped under her foot that she glanced towards the water and noticed she wasn't alone. There was someone standing by the water in a long cloak and she could tell it was a guy. As he turned her hand moved slightly closer to her shortsword but when he had turned fully around she moved her hand back away. When she caught sight of his face she recognized him almost immediately and felt confident in the fact that she would have nothing to worry about from him.

She noticed that his hand had reached below his cloak and realized that he couldn't see her as well as she could see him. She stepped out onto the beach and said, "Hello Zenith, it is nice to see you again." She gave him a warm smile that she reserved for people she trusted and thought that when she stepped out he would surely remove his hand from the blade as he would know that she was not a threat to him.

~Meanwhile, in a desolate small town...~

SLAM!

The wood of the plank walls cracked slightly under the impact. The angel struggled to break free, gripping at the icy hand that gripped it’s neck. A high falsetto whine of pain and fear escaped it’s lips as Xoco tightened his hold, pressing the angel up against the wall with brutal force. He focused on suppressing the airway, ensuring complete oxygen deprivation. The angel’s light feet were lifted from the ground slightly, such that only the toes were able to drag on the shoddy oak floorboards.

Deciding that perhaps the damned thing had had enough, Xoco thrust his arm backwards, hurling the angel onto the floor. It laid half-broken on the floor, sprawled out pathetically. Both hands gripped it’s throat, and the holy being’s breath came in short, ragged gasps. The only other sound that could be heard was a solft pitter-patter of rain beating against the exterior of the building. A single torch threw haphazard beams of yellow light across the greusome scene. He scowled, turning to face the angel who now laid beaten and ragged on the floor of the small room.

“I will ask you one more time. Where is the Arch-Angel of Life, Zenith?” he asked. Xoco’s voice was full of contempt, added with an extra treble in the background to make it seem more intimidating. The angel kept one hand on it’s bruised throat, using the other to turn and steady itself. It met Xoco’s gaze for a brief moment.

“Go to hell,” came a raspy whisper. It was probably the best the poor thing could manage at this point. Rage burned behind Xoco’s eyes, though he did at least respect the perseverance that this creature displayed. If nothing else, that was an admirable quality.

Xoco bent low, glaring with a hate-filled stare directly into the angel’s eyes. The creature gulped, trying to back away. “After you,” he said. Xoco balled up a fist, standing upbruptly and putting his full bodyweight into a ferocious punch. His knuckles caught the angel underneath the chin, sending it sprawling backwards onto the floor. Blood seeped out of it’s mouth, dripping onto and staining it’s feathered wings. “I have ways of making you talk,” he said. Xoco drew out a small dagger made of Ice, one of his favorite weapons, Frostbite. He twirled the blade in between his fingers. Strong as the creature may have been, an obvious look of fear gleamed in it’s eyes.

“Do your worst!” he said, putting on a strong, threatening expression. Xoco let out a cold chuckle, causing the expression to melt into one of despair.

“That’s the plan,” he said, smiling. Xoco paused for just a moment, before jumping into the air and descending onto the angel, driving the blade into the sensitive tissue between it’s ribcage and shoulder joint. This was a sweet spot on most mortals, and apparently the angel was no different. A piercing scream erupted into the air, one of unimaginable agony. Xoco pulled on the dagger’s hilt, causing the blade to break off inside the wound. Blood and icy water seeped out of the wound, and the angel groped at the broken flesh, trying desperately to pull the cold blade from the sore.

Xoco walked calmly over to a small urn filled with water, and submerged the blade into it, waiting five seconds before pulling it back out. When he did, the blade had re-formed, taking some of the water and forming it into an equally pain-inducing dagger. “I will ask again. Where is Zenith Meria?” he yelled, glaring evily at the blade.

“I’ll never tell you,” said the angel through clenched teeth. Xoco simply shrugged, and then dove down again, dagger in hand, ready top sink it into the other shoulder. But just before the tip pierced, a howl resounded through the air.

“STOP!” yelled the angel. Panting, it sighed a deep sigh. “I’ll… I will talk.” It said. Relief and satisfaction washed over Xoco, a deep sense of accomplishment at breaking the creature’s strong will. He smiled wryly, standing and twirling his blade between his fingers.

“Start talking,” he said simply, keeping his eyes focused on passing the blade evenly across all of his fingers in a perfectly synchronized motion. With a sigh, the angel spoke. It’s speech came in ragged gasps, interrupted by sears of agony.

“He was… on holiday, last I knew, at the lake. He went there to be alone with his thoughts. That’s all I know, I swear!” Xoco smiled, nodding to himself.

“Now, was that so hard?” he asked. The angel gave him a contemptuous stare. Xoco nodded to a hooded figure in the corner, his loyal follower. The man stepped forward, producing a broadsword. A scream of pain erupted from the angel as the blade descended, diving directly into it’s heart. Weakly, the being’s finger groped at the blade, trying to remove it. With another solid jerk, Xoco’s servant yanked the blade back out, leaving a gaping hole. Torrents of blood that should have been passing through the heart spilled out and filled the crevices between the floorboards.

Xoco spat on the body, turning his attention to his follower, who was busily cleaning off the blade with a rag. “Take care of that,” said Xoco, motioning uncaringly towards the corpse. “Meet me at the location when you’re finished.” With a nod, Xoco’s follower set to work, and the wraith took his leave of the bloody scene.

Deep below Arda's surface...

The cave's interior was dank, with no natural light left to brighten its depths. Stalactites loomed overhead like giant icicles perpetually dripping, creating a chorus of chimes as falling drops hit pools of water and the smooth cave floor. A splash interrupted the harmony of sounds, and the immense cave chamber lit up in torch light. A short, mustached man in remnants of a shirt and pants stumbled into a pool of water and pulled back quickly, holding his torch near his foot to so if anything clung to it. Two more men, both somewhat large and better-clothed than the torch-holder, walked into the cave behind him, glancing about the cave in slow head-tilts, and through dull eyes. All three were armed with unsheathed short swords that clung loosely to their belts. The mustached man turned without looking at the two other men, and glanced behind them, his eyes darting through the dark. One of the larger men spoke up.

“He'll be gettin' here ina minute'r so.” He said in a big, deep voice, over a scruffy black beard. “He weren't comin' till he got soma dem glow-plants dat grow a couple'ah rooms over.” The shorter man listened, scratching his chin as he did, and gave a final nod when the large man finished. Truly, he had some doubts if they'd be able to pull this off. They'd done it a number of times before, leading explorers or tourists through the secluded caverns only to ambush them when they least expected it, killing them and looting their corpses, leaving their bodies to rot in the dark, but there was something different about this man. He was a foreigner, and had a... strange look about him. If the three bandit/guides weren't so desperate for money, they would have never tried their scam on the man. But here they were. The three got into their usual positions; big man number one crouched behind a large rock at the cave's entrance, large man number two climbed to the top of a rock jutting from the cave's wall, and grasped a large rock, which he held over his head, ready to throw, and the mustache man crouched near the water, pretending to inspect something. Moments later, they heard footsteps.

The demonhunter held a torch in his left hand, a handful of small, wispy green plants in his right. They seemed to glow, even in the flame light. Sartana's eyes glimmered underneath his hat, and he placed the plants delicately in a pouch at his side, taking care not to break their stalks as he did. He lifted his head towards another opening into a larger chamber, wondering if his guides had entered it. Where did my sleazy-looking guides run off to? I have what I need; we can leave. He thought to himself, somewhat irritated, entering the large room. He could see torch light not far from where he entered, and recognized it immediately as the main guide's torch. Before he could speak up, something caught his ear- the sound of something bombarding its way through the air. Something from above.

Without a second thought, Sartana spun, tossing his torch into the air and unsheathing his falchion. A rock three times the size of his face thudded down the wall beside him and bounced over his face, splitting against the uneven floor. Sartana tumbled forward and sprung to his feet as a sliver of metal nearly split his head in half. It hit his shoulder, impacting his chainmail. He grunted, and grabbed the blade with his left gloved hand, twisting it and pulling it from his adversary's grasp. A cleave from his sword brought the enemy's head thudding against the floor, and into view. It was one of his guides.

A figure jumped from the darkness, slashing his sword horizontally at Sartana. The blow was tapped away with the flat of the demonhunter's falchion, and followed by an unarmed strike to the man's fat face, breaking his nose in two spots and sending him stumbling backwards. The sound of clicking from the back of him dropped Sartana to his stomach and sent him rolling, the sound of an arrow careening from overhead. The bolt ricocheted off the cavern wall and embedded itself in the large man's neck.

The mustached man worked furiously to reload his crossbow. Something stepped in front of the torch light he was using to see, and he shrieked as a hand gripped his neck and lifted him to his feet, a meter above the ground. He was eye to eye with the demonhunter. But not for long. Sartana shoved his hands forward, pushing the man into the air backwards. The mustached man prepared to hit the ground- but the feeling didn't come. It didn't come for much later. The demonhunter took a step forward and looked into the blackness below, where he had thrown the man. He wasn't sure how deep the pit was. “But hope to your God you die on impact.” He said in a deep, dark voice, turning his back to the pit and picking up a torch. He made his way out of the cave on his own.

An hour later Sartana was laying on the edge of the lake with his arms behind his head, napping. Such an interesting world... He mused to himself, yawning.