[psychosyd]

His blade slung over his shoulder, Sylius raced towards Lethalia, intent on the kill. Oddly, she did not move, make any counter, but just looked at him... a sad expression on her face. Her eyes seemed to pierce into his soul, gaze unwavering. Sylius broke his charge... watching, bewitched by her spell.

"If you remain here, and do not resolve your struggle, it will result in your destruction, just as it had so many years ago, except this time, there will be no victory. Beware my warning."

With that said, she dissapeared without a trace, her words like a physical blow. Sylius fell to his knees in sudden surpise, his eyes wide, and his soul torn. He could feel the division so strongly now. This meeting was not a coincidence... it ment he would adavance another round, but... her warning still lingered in his heart, the words echoing.

...will result in your destruction, just as it had so many years ago.

Sylius knelt, weakned, by the encounter as his mind raced over what it could mean. His mind traced back through the years.... trying to gain some clue as to what her words could have been telling him. He could remember as far back as his training in the Tower... anytime before that, he remembered fire... pain... crying... and images... faces. It was a jumble of thoughts. It also seemed a dark veil was hanging over him, over his thoughts and over his history. Slowly getting to his feet, he began his walk back to his dorm, tracing over his past, delving... his mind dark, Sylius sunken into a sad meloncholy. Sylius did not even notice the passage of time, he could only vauge recollection of returning to his room. It seemed time just slipped away, his own brooding thoughts only broken by the knock at the door, breaking the trance. Sylius looked up with a start, he must have stayed up the entire night. Walking over and opening the door, he found the attendant, a young one at that, could not be over 10 years old.

"Excuse me sir, but your summoning has come, you are to report to the north fields immediatly"

Sylius thanked the boy, handed him a few coins and then closed the door behind him. Leaning on it, he frowned, returning to his thoughts. The corner of his mind was silent, and did not help the situation any. Sylius grabbed his blade from the floor, leaving the scabbard, and walked out the door. His mind was abuzz with questions that did not have awswers. Why was his memory so jumbled... why was his past clouded with darkness... the hours of meditation spent on the future only showed an even greater darkness... it seemed almost a dream to him. Sylius made way to his destination.

The Northern fields, or the Emurer Fields as most people called them, were silent on this new day. The grass was green as anything, and waist high in some places. The soft wind blew, causing Sylius cloak to billow out from behind him, his elven mail glistening in the sun. These were the moments to live for, to fight for, to die for. In the distance, deer could be seen grazing on the young tender shoots. In the distance the mountains could be seen, jutting into the sky. It was quite peaceful at this time, and as Sylius breathed the air, his spirits lifted, his worrys forgotton for this time, his elven blood loving the freedom once more. Closing his eyes, he could feel the suns warm rays, illuminating the new day, just as he felt his souls worrys fading. Now all Sylius needed was the arrival of his opponent...