The Lone Angel

The red and blue sky of Sohaud stretched over a vast, empty landscape. The occasional column of flame would burst from the rocky ground with a sputter, then extinguish itself just as suddenly. With its tall, craggy mountains and very little plant life, it was a wonder how anything could survive such a harsh environment. Yet there was life in this seemingly desolate place.

A creature darted out from beneath a boulder, scurrying almost silently across the landscape. The large, lizard-like creature, known as a ginkrat, was a dull pattern of gray and brown, perfectly blending into the rocky environment. If not for its quick movement as it expertly dodged the random bursts of flame, it would be completely invisible. The ginkrat occasionally stopped to either sniff or dig at the ground in its search for food. It could eat rocks if it wanted to—its corrosive saliva would break down even the toughest of material—but the ginkrat had eaten rocks for the past several meals and had grown quite sick of them. Today, it was determined to find something else—anything else to eat.

The ginkrat was feeling quite bold today. Bold enough to venture out past its usual hunting ground, towards the lake just beyond the hill. When it got to the top, the ginkrat hesitated, looking down at the vast, gold body below it. It was a sight to behold! A faint glow emanated from the golden waters, making it one of the few light sources in the area. The lake was as still as still could be. Not even the wind disturbed it.

The ginkrat knew that the lake was dangerous, though it did not know exactly why. It just knew that those monsters that lived in the nearby mountain, the Ahngreel, were responsible for it. All the older ginkrats stayed well away from its shining waters, warning their young of something in its mysterious depths. Its mother had warned it of this lake before the ginkrat had eaten her, but it was not afraid of something that could potentially have food in it. So, it scurried down to the lake's edge and looked into the water at its ugly reflection. Its long tongue slid from its mouth to smell the air around the lake. But apart from the smell of dirt and rock, there was nothing; the lake smelled of nothing. The ginkrat stared into the gleaming depths, weighing its options, unaware that it was being watched from afar.

After a moment's pause, it stuck its tongue into the water, scooping it into its mouth with its spoon-like end. The ginkrat thought the water was delicious! All thoughts of danger left its head as it shoveled more sweet gold down its throat, causing ripple after ripple to spread across the tranquil surface of the lake. The ginkrat continued to drink the water, not noticing that something else was causing a disturbance in the lake's center. A blue mist rose, slowly spreading across the rippling surface towards the ginkrat.

The ghostly shape of hands formed from the mist, reaching towards the source of the disturbance. Their long, pointed fingers groped longingly for the ginkrat, who still noticed nothing until, at last, a hand managed to grasp the creature's tongue. The hand's incorporeal form passed straight through the ginkrat, who stiffened and fell limp, dead before it hit the ground. As the mist retreated, something below the golden lake seized the ginkrat's still lolling tongue, dragging it into the opaque water. There was one last ripple as the lake completely swallowed the ginkrat, then the water became still once more.

Near the golden lake that the Ahngreel called Freelan sat the tallest mountain in all of Sohaud. It had long since been hollowed out and made into the city of Desmortia. Hundreds of thousands of years ago, it had once been an architectural marvel, resembling a large, fortress-like palace, but now both the weather and neglect had worn most of its past beauty down to a formless mass. Most of the interior had suffered the same fate: lavish corridors that had once gleamed now lay in ruin, with all manner of trash scattered about.

Not all of Desmortia's former glory was lost, however. As one climbed the stairs to the upper levels, they would see some of the intricate carvings that decorated the doorways, some of the polish still glistened here or there, and even a few statues depicting legends of old. The further up one went, the cleaner the city was. And at the top, behind large, gilded doors, lay the throne room where the leader of the Ahngreel, the Hidaar, usually sat. He was not there now.

                                                                     ***

Instead, the Hidaar stood on the balcony outside, watching the golden lake in mild amusement. He had just witnessed another stupid ginkrat consumed by Freelan, which never ceased to be at least a little entertaining, even after many thousands of years. His moment of fun over, the Hidaar turned away from the lake and reentered the throne room, chuckling to himself. Those stupid animals never learn. They deserved every pointless death they suffered. Though it would be rather unlucky if they were to die out completely, how else would he amuse himself in this godforsaken place?

His footsteps echoed in the spacious throne room as he walked past the ornate throne large enough for even himself to sit comfortably on, to the wall opposite the balcony where a giant, white archway sat inside it. It was simple and beautiful, tall enough for him to walk through, and a stark contrast to the throne room's dark, polished stone. It had always been an eyesore to the Hidaar, but even he had to admit he'd rather it be there than not.

It was not natural. A gift, or so the Hidaar was told, from a powerful being named Urzuran who had successfully isolated every world from each other singlehandedly. The way it was now, the archway was nothing more than a protrusion leading to nowhere, but once a Sohaud century, the wall inside the arch would glow white and become a portal to anywhere he wanted, though it was only temporary. No matter where he was, after only a day, the portal would pull him back, and he would be, once again, trapped in this ruin of a world. After many instances of this, the whole process became far too irksome even to bother.

Not this time, though. No, this time would be different. If his plan succeeded, he would defy this being who imposed his will upon him; he would defy the will of fate who thought it could keep him trapped. The Hidaar imagined himself boasting of his success to Urzuran. Would he be angry? He hoped so. Someone that powerful had to be a challenge of some kind. It would truly be a legendary battle! He would—

Something tickled the Hidaar's senses at that moment, interrupting his fantasy. He looked up at the source of his irritation, but there was nothing on the dark, stone ceiling. Something was watching him. Some unknown presence lurked just out of sight, but judging how distant the caster's power felt, the spy was quite a ways away, perhaps even in another world? This thought filled him with excitement. The only beings who could spy on him here were either very, very powerful or Urzuran himself.

His excitement was immediately dashed, for as soon as he looked towards the source of power, it was gone. The Hidaar smirked in disappointment and returned his attention to the archway where a small, winged imp was painting runes along the top in dark blue blood.

"Aren't you finished yet, Noren?" the Hidaar asked impatiently.

"Almost, Master," Noren replied, concentrating on the eighth and final rune.

"Well, hurry it up," the Hidaar said, "The portal will open soon. I don't want to miss our chance!"

After a few moments of agonizing silence, Noren backed away from the arch and landed with a satisfied smile at the Hidaar's feet.

"There! All finished, Master!"

"Excellent…" the Hidaar breathed.

Noren beamed at him. The Hidaar looked down at the little creature and rolled his golden eyes at him.

"Oh, not you, Noren. Get out of my way!" The Hidaar grabbed Noren by one of his bat-like wings and tossed him behind his shoulder. He hoped that the imp would fly out the window and the sound of Noren's screams fading from earshot told him that his aim had indeed been true. The Hidaar chuckled to himself again before focusing his attention on the portal before him. He backed into his throne, sitting down and resting his face on his fist. Now came the waiting—his least favorite part. He began to fiddle with the handle of his sword, which was lying beside his throne, ready for him to use it.

The Hidaar sat there for a few minutes, already growing bored before the silence was broken by the sound of flapping wings and wheezing. He rolled his eyes once more as Noren came to land on the vacant armrest of the throne.

"That was an excellent throw, Master! You threw me out the window without even looking!"

The Hidaar made an annoyed grunt in his throat before asking, "Did you at least remember to hit the ground this time, Noren?"

"I did indeed, Master." His tone changed from cheerful to somber as he continued, "but I'm afraid to say that I didn't quite die this time either."

The Hidaar ignored this as he began to unconsciously rub his chest with his free hand. The dull ache in his chest had started when the lake had consumed the ginkrat, but he had been able to restrain himself from rubbing it until now. He was far too focused on the portal to notice his lack of discipline, but Noren did. As he watched his Master, a look of satisfaction grew on his twisted face.

"Soon, Noren, very soon, the portal will open, and I will have free reign to do whatever I want in any world I choose."

Noren didn't answer; he knew better than to reply to his Master unless he looked directly at him, so he kept quiet and let him ramble on.

"If this works, Noren, I just might have to reward Grimlow for his efforts, eh? What say you?"

The Hidaar glanced down at the imp, who had anticipated this, replacing his pleased expression to one of submission.

"Of course, Master. He should be rewarded if you say so," he said with a bow.

The Hidaar smirked and once again turned his attention to the portal.

"Any moment…" he whispered, "Any moment now."

As if on command, the archway to nowhere began to fill with a blinding blue light. The Hidaar shot up and reached the portal in a few long strides, taking his sword with him. He stopped right before it, eyes darting to the runes painted in his blood on the arch. He could feel the blood's desire to return to his veins, but the Hidaar's will kept them in place.

One by one, the eight runes lit up around the newly formed portal. Suddenly, the blue light shimmered and slowly faded into sickly green as if touched by poison.

Noren, who had thrown his claws in front of his face to shield his eyes from the blinding light, peeked through his fingers to look at the tainted portal.

"D-did it work?" he asked, looking up at the Hidaar.

The Hidaar's smile slowly spread to a full-on grin before managing to tear his eyes away for a moment to spare a look of contempt for his little slave. Obviously.

The presence that had spied on the Hidaar was back, watching them from some unknown place across dimensions, but he did not look this time; he did not want to scare off whoever was watching. Instead, he forced himself to look at Noren with a smile.

"Yes, indeed it did, Noren."

Noren looked confused. The Hidaar never smiled at him like that. Ever.

"With this, I can go anywhere I want, whenever I want."

"Uh… right," was all Noren could manage until he saw the murderous glare behind his master's smile. Then he said, "Of course, Master, and where will you go first?"

"An excellent question, my little friend!" Those last words tasted of bile. He was not exactly sure why he said them, but too late. "I think I should visit the world I got my start in, don't you think?"

"Of course, Master! And where would that be, Master?" Noren asked, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, just a little place called Earth." The Hidaar's grin widened even further, twisting maliciously. If the eavesdropper were any hero worth his salt, then he would come. Let him try. Who knows, maybe this spy was what he was looking for? He hoped so. That would make his search much easier. Much easier indeed.

"Tell Oriander to wait for my return," he said, strapping his sword to his back before taking his first step into his newly opened portal. This could be a one-way trip, which would not be the worst outcome. "If I don't return…."

The Hidaar stopped speaking. There was no need to say anything further.

"Understood, my Hidaar," said Noren with another bow.

The Hidaar continued forward into the portal, letting the sickly green light envelop him. He could not feel any more excited! His body was quivering with the anticipation of possibly meeting the mighty Urzuran. Or at least someone, anyone to give him what he sought.

If not, then there was always other business to attend to back home—to correct the injustice committed against him all those centuries ago. It was time for the people of Earth to finally remember the legend they had so wrongfully forgotten.

                                                                        ***

Azrath pulled his hand away from the sword's hilt with a shuddering gasp and took a terrified step back. Unfortunately, the dais in which the sword rested was not quite large enough to accommodate this, and he fell backward. Luckily, Azrath managed to spread his large, feathery wings just in time to steady himself with a few hurried flaps.

He sighed in relief, but his respite was short-lived as his eyes rested on the sword that rested in the dais, contemplating the vision it had just shown him.

Two creatures stood in a dark room, the smaller of them mutilating the portal that the Great Urzuran had gifted upon their world.

"How dare they!" Azrath said to no one, jerking his beard as he seethed. Those filthy Ahngreel had no right—no right at all—to desecrate Urzuran's portal! The most sacred—the most beautiful— Azrath took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to collect his thoughts.

He had only decided on a whim to visit Sohaud, mainly to relieve a particularly nasty bout of loneliness. Fate had been on his side when, to his shock, he came upon the impious sight of the Ahngreel leader vandalizing the Great Urzuran's portal!

Azrath couldn't stand the sight of the portal's marring, but he had kept a level head enough to try and find out what exactly the Ahngreel was planning. But then the Ahngreel had looked directly at Azrath with his piercing, gold eye as if he knew precisely where Azrath had been watching him from. Azrath felt a shard of ice stab his chest at the Ahngreel's gaze and had instinctively broken his connection to Sohaud.

He felt ashamed of his reflexive cowardice and immediately wanted to return to spying on Sohaud. He had an inkling of what the Ahngreel was doing, even if the idea made him sick to his stomach. There was no possibility of any power the Ahngreel possessed overpowering the Great Urzuran's Eingh, but he had to be sure. He had to go back.

However, as he had reached for the sword, his fear had chosen for him instead. He had projected himself into another realm, one where the gods of all worlds held their annual peace assembly. If he told them what he had just seen, they could figure out a solution to whatever the Ahngreel was planning. No need for me to get involved any further.

But as his consciousness had entered the realm, Azrath found the chairs surrounding the large, round table unoccupied and the airy, white room empty. The shame of his desire to push this burden upon the gods filled him. But what could Azrath do? They were the only ones with access to the Ahngreel, and, with their combined strength, they could efficiently dispatch their leader.

What if they don't believe you? Doubt began to creep up on him at this thought.

Azrath's grip on the sword's hilt tightened. He had messed up too many times to count. The first few times, they had rushed off at his command to investigate, only to find the problem wasn't as disastrous as he had made it out to be or that there was no danger in the first place. Now, they wouldn't believe him. Not unless he could prove what he saw was an actual problem. That meant that his choice was already made for him. If he had any hope of the gods believing him, he had to return.

So, he did. It had taken all his courage to return to the dark room where that Ahngreel called Hidaar was, but he did. And what he saw made his heart sink.

The Hidaar had succeeded in tainting the portal, turning the pure blue light of Eingh to green. Azrath wasn't sure why the Hidaar had done it in the first place, but a brief exchange between him and his servant had given Azrath the answer he needed.

The Ahngreel had somehow managed to manipulate Urzuran's portal to obey him, and the world called Earth was in danger. Whatever the Hidaar wanted with that place, Azrath knew it wouldn't be good.

Azrath had not visited Sohaud as often as the other worlds—mainly because that place made his skin crawl—but he had seen enough to make a proper assessment, in his opinion. The Ahngreel were a race of blood-thirsty brutes who loved fighting more than anything from what he could gauge. All they ever did was fight, sleep, and fight some more. They rarely thought about anything else. Any plan they had could only lead to death and destruction.

But now, Azrath had everything he needed to convince the gods of Earth's impending doom. Azrath focused once more on the council room, and as the throne room faded from view, he saw the Hidaar step into the portal, disappearing into the tainted green light. The countdown had begun.

Azrath found himself back in the warmth of the council room, only this time the chairs were no longer vacant. Beings of various shapes and sizes sat around the table, making small talk about something Azrath had no interest in listening to. But, as much as it pained him, Azrath had to be patient. He couldn't interact with a world he was spying on unless he was granted permission by a god—and even then, all he could do was speak. So, Azrath waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

No one noticed his presence, or maybe they were just ignoring him. They were probably sick and tired of his intrusions and hoping that he would just go away if they ignored him.

"That's enough," boomed a voice from the far end of the long table.

It seemed that Azrath was not the only one who did not care for the chatter. All the heads turned to a large man with a beard that's thickness made Azrath jealous. An ornate, golden patch covered one eye while the other stared coldly at his fellow gods.

"As much as we'd like to waste our precious time with idle chit-chat, we do have a time limit," Odin continued. "So, if you don't mind, let us begin our meeting."

Odin was usually the one who led the meetings as he was quick, to the point, and ill-tempered. Even now, his thick fingers drummed impatiently. Or maybe it was something else as Odin seemed to be staring at something past the other god's heads, lost in thought or something. It took Azrath a moment to realize that the thing Odin was staring at was Azrath himself. It was obvious now that Odin was debating whether or not he should acknowledge Azrath's existence.

After another moment of silence, Odin sighed and said, "But first, we must address our favorite intruder who, if I remember correctly, we explicitly told not to interrupt us again unless it was something of the utmost urgency!"

Odin's voice grew louder with every word, making Azrath's ears ring, even across worlds. Even through Odin's shouts, Azrath could still hear the collective groans of the other gods. There were mumbles of "why'd you have to bring him up" and "you should have just ignored him." Azrath swallowed. A part of him regretted being the subject of humiliation again, but he had to stick to his convictions now. There was no turning back.

"Speak, Azrath, and be quick about it. Some of us have places to be."

At Odin's command, Azrath could feel his ability to speak being granted, but he waited, unsure what to say.

"Spit it out, Azrath," Odin thundered, rolling his eye, "go ahead and tell us that Yggdrasil is on fire again, or maybe Cerberus has escaped from Hades. Whatever it is, I'd like to get it over with now, if you please."

Azrath felt offended at this. Anyone could have made those mistakes. It was not his fault that Cerberus blended so well in the shadows! But he quelled his outburst, and instead, he calmed himself with a deep breath before shouting, "The Ahngreel are invading the Earth!"

Shocked silence filled the room for several moments, then was quickly replaced with the roars of the god's laughter. Azrath was glad to remain invisible to them as his face burned crimson, waiting for their mirth to mercifully end.

"Th-th-th…" A horned woman Azrath believed was named Ishtar was the first to try to speak, but her breath was gone; she was laughing so hard. Despite quivering shoulders, she rubbed her face and managed to speak.

"The Ahngreel are invading Earth?! What a joke! I wish I'd thought of that!"

"It's true!" Azrath said, "I overheard their leader say that he was going to Earth!"

"So, what if it is?" shot Aphrodite, whose usual beauty was marred by a look of disgust, "I say there's no point in worrying and getting wrinkles. Let Earth take care of themselves."

"Exactly," added Odin, "Earth defended itself fine against us. Why should the Ahngreel be any different? And besides, the Ahngreel are subject to the same time limit we are. They can't do too much in one day."

"But that's just it, Lord Odin," Azrath said, adding the title for good measure, "the Ahngreel did something to Master Urzuran's portal. I—" Azrath paused, choosing his words carefully. "I think they found a way to keep it open indefinitely."

He had touched a collective nerve. The mild amusement of his earlier accusation dissipated instantly, replaced with glares of outrage. Each god glared at him with murder in their eyes, each god except one.

Dressed in deep, red fur and with a snowy beard that rivaled even Odin's, the god called Klaus regarded him with shock. There was no malice in his icy blue eyes, nor was there the cold fire that was said to have once burned fiercely; there was only surprise.

"If I understand correctly," growled Odin. Azrath turned his attention to the enraged gods, "you're saying that those—Those savages could work out a way to free themselves from Urzuran's chains? They're primitives, barely smart enough to wave two sticks in the air and call that fighting! There is absolutely no way they could figure out a way before us. It's just not possible!"

"And when was the last time you heard from the Ahngreel?" Azrath snapped, unable to contain the fury that had been building since he could speak. The arrogance! "When was the last time any of them appeared at this meeting, huh?"

"Why should they come?" said a god with a bird's head that Azrath did not know. "What would a group of simpletons like them contribute to a peace meeting?" His head cocked to one side, glaring at Azrath with piercing eyes. "From what I remember, the only thing the Ahngreel care about is fighting, and they weren't even good at that! We completely crushed them during the war!"

"And remember that tall one who tried to pick a fight with us?" said Ishtar rolling her eyes, "He made such a fuss when we laughed him out of the meeting. Said we were underestimating him. What a joke!" There wasn't an ounce of amusement in her voice, just raw condescension. It was that and the sounds of agreement from around the table that touched Azrath's last nerve.

"That was eons ago!" Azrath yelled. "They've had that long to grow stronger! Strong enough to get the better of you!"

That last part had slipped out. In Azrath's anger, he had gone too far.

"We're done here. Go back to your useless life of solitude, and don't ever bother us again."

That was all Odin said before turning his attention back to the other gods to continue their meeting. Azrath stood in silence, mostly because he felt the ability to speak in this realm leave him, but regret would have kept his mouth shut even if it hadn't.

Azrath squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from leaking out. He had said the wrong thing again. This time his carelessness had not only got him in trouble, but it had also potentially doomed a world. The Ahngreel were not like his other mistakes. This one was real; he was sure of it. The people of Earth were about to face an evil like they had not seen since the War of the Gods so long ago, and Azrath had just blown their only chance of rescue.

With one final look at the gods, Azrath was about to let go of the sword when he noticed someone missing from the table.

"Azrath," came a whisper from behind him. Azrath jumped, almost letting go of the sword, but he managed to hang on by a finger. Tightening his grip on the sword, Azrath turned his head to see a large, snowy beard hanging over the place where his shoulder would have been.

Somehow Klaus had managed to get behind Azrath without either him or any other god noticing, which was a marvel for someone of his large stature.

"Azrath," Klaus whispered again, "listen closely to what I am about to tell you, though you're not going to like most of it."

What did that mean? Azrath had so many questions just from that single statement. But he obeyed and stood as still as possible, waiting for Klaus's next words.

"I believe you." Those words alone were enough to make the tears Azrath had held back flow. "I know that the Ahngreel are far more capable than my fellow gods give them credit for. I frequent Earth, and I feel immense power lurking in its shadows. I'm sure they are Ahngreel, visiting the place they once called home. I'm not sure why they chose to stay hidden until now, but the time has come for them to strike nonetheless."

Azrath soaked in this information, wondering why Klaus was telling him all this. If he believed Azrath, why wasn't he rushing off to stop the Hidaar from reaching Earth?

"You're probably wondering why I don't take care of them myself, right?"

Azrath blinked. How had he known what Azrath had been thinking? Was it a coincidence? It had to be.

"I'm sorry, Azrath, but I, too, have a limited amount of time. There are Ahngreel that I have gauged to exceed my power, and I'm afraid I could not defeat them in time without assistance."

Azrath's heart sank. He had feared this. "Why don't you try to convince the gods to help you? They won't believe me, but if it's you…." Azrath trailed off, realizing that even though he had spoken aloud, there was no way that Klaus could hear him.

"The gods and I don't have the best relationship." Klaus whispered, "I think it's because I managed to stake a territory during the War. Or maybe I'm the only one to have fully embraced your master's philosophy. I'm not sure."

Tears glistened in Klaus's eyes. Azrath was flabbergasted. As far as Azrath knew, there was no way that Klaus had heard him, and yet he had answered his question perfectly. This man was a complete mystery to him.

He only knew of the Blood Saint by reputation alone. A man so resolute that he led invading forces across his home world into other worlds, leaving the snow red with blood long after battles ended.

But the man who stood behind him was no longer the Blood Saint. The red he wore was to remind him of the innocent blood he had spilled during the War. It was said that he spent the time he had in other realms giving gifts as pentacene for his brutality. From the warmth in Klaus's eyes, he could tell that the stories were true. It filled his heart with admiration to see a faithful follower of Urzuran.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't help, Azrath, but that doesn't mean Earth can't be saved."

"It doesn't?" Azrath asked.

Klaus shook his head, "there is someone who can protect the Earth, Azrath. Someone who will risk everything to protect the life he sees as precious."

"Who?" Azrath wished he hadn't asked.

"You," Klaus answered simply.

"But what can I do? I'm no god, and even if I was, Eziro doesn't have a portal I can use. I'm stuck."

"Yes, that is a dilemma, ho ho," he chuckled. It didn't sound like Klaus thought it was a dilemma to Azrath. He waited for Klaus to give him the answer, but Klaus remained silent.

"So…" Azrath said, "how can I make it to Earth without a portal?"

"That depends on what you're willing to give up."

That wasn't an answer. Azrath could feel worry set in again.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Azrath said, growing a little desperate.

"If I told you, you wouldn't do what needs to be done," Klaus whispered, "I'll just say that you'll need that precious sword of Urzuran's that you're guarding if you have any hope of facing the Hidaar."

Azrath thought that Klaus wouldn't be able to shock him any further, but this last comment floored him.

"De Sah," he swore, "how do you know about—?"

His question was interrupted by Klaus, who said in a hurried tone, "Azrath, I'm out of time. The others are about to notice my absence."

"But—"

"One final thing," he said quickly, "Azrath, please don't judge the gods so harshly. We may not be as united as Urzuran wanted, but we're on the right path, even if the road is bumpy. You'd best remember that gods may not be mortal, but even we are flawed, and that includes your Urzuran. Now go, Peacekeeper, go be the hero that Earth needs."

And with a wink and a tap of his nose, he was gone. Azrath looked at the empty spot at the table, and, sure enough, he saw that Klaus now occupied the vacant seat. It took Azrath a moment to regain his composure, then with one final look at Klaus in a last-ditch effort to process his words, Azrath let go of the hilt, causing the hall to vanish before him.

Azrath let his hand drop to his side. The rest of his body refused to move.

Gods may not be mortal, but even we are flawed, and that includes your Urzuran.

Those words echoed in Azrath's head as he stared at the sword again, but he did not truly see the gleaming gold hilt. What did he mean by that? He could understand the other gods having flaws, but Urzuran? There was no way—no way there could be anything imperfect about Him.

Azrath could feel his head pounding as he tried to wrap his mind around the impossible, so instead, he turned his thoughts to the rest of his conversation with Klaus. How did he know so much? About the sword and his duty as its protector, Klaus had even called Azrath "Peacekeeper." That was a name he hadn't heard for millennia, not since the Exodus.

Klaus is a mystery, that's for sure. Not only did he know about the Urzuran's sacred sword, but he also seemed to have a clue about its true purpose.

He touched a hand to the handle, not to begin spying but just to feel the intricately woven gold of the hilt. His finger brushed the blue orb set in the talon pommel. The long, thin blade was wrapped in a spiral hilt with delicate-looking wings to serve as a guard. It was truly awe-inspiring, a work that he could only dream of creating.

It was his father's masterpiece. A blade he had explicitly created for Urzuran to relieve Himself of the vast quantities of Eingh He generated. To Azrath's knowledge, this sword was the only object of its kind. It was capable of storing an immeasurable amount of energy indefinitely. Not even Azrath's father knew how much it could contain.

It was the only thing left of his beloved Master. The sword contained an enormous excess of Eingh, which Urzuran had left for Azrath and his father to guard. Azrath had not known why until fifty years ago when his father, Ezurdas, passed from life and joined the ever-flowing Eingh.

With his dying breath, he had told Azrath that the sword was the key to breaking the wall between worlds, though he wasn't sure how. The only clue Urzuran had given him was that he would know to use it when the time came. Azrath shook his head in frustration.

He had not even tried to figure out the sword's secret. His father had told him that his journals contained his investigation into the sword, but Azrath felt any motivation leave him as soon as he realized that he was left utterly alone in the world with his father gone. He imagined all of the people he had known, his friends, his family, and especially his beloved Emuè, all gone beyond his reach.

What kind of a hero spends his days sulking and spying? No hero does; he was no hero. There was nothing a coward like him could do to save Earth, even with all the Eingh in the world. Klaus was wrong about him.

The sun was setting as Azrath turned his back from the blade. Tears ran down his cheeks for the umpteenth time today. It was nearly time for him to light the lamps in the streets. There was no need to. But it made Azrath feel better imagining that there was someone else—anyone else in Eziro who needed them.

He stepped off the dais, crossed the hall, and was about to leave through the ornate wooden doors when a glimpse of motion caught his attention. He looked up instinctively, excitement welling in his lonely heart, only for it to deflate in disappointment. However, it was only the glittering light of the sunset reflecting off the sword onto a tapestry.

The banner depicted a scene of happy Ezirons farming, dancing, and just enjoying the blessings of life. The Great Urzuran, in all His glory, was smiling down upon them. Azrath had looked at it a thousand times. All it usually did was make him even lonelier. He missed when the world was like this. He missed the laughter of children as they ran around their family's farm. He missed the taste of proper food from people who knew how to cook. Most of all, he missed the presence of his loved ones, his mother and father, and Emuè.

Emuè, whom he loved; Emuè, whom he betrayed.

Wherever she was, she would most likely spend her days hating him. Or better yet, not thinking of him at all. He would most certainly deserve it.

He supposed this life of solitude was his punishment by the cosmos for his pride; spending his days farming and lighting the lamps, surviving, waiting for the day when the cosmic flow of Eingh would claim his soul where he would join his father, mother, and all those who were already part of the Everflow. Especially Urzuran. Now more than ever, he needed the Master's guidance. But He was gone and could no longer speak wisdom. All he had were the words of the past, none of which could help him. Except…

"Life is most precious, and if it is in my power, I will fight to preserve as much as possible, even at the cost of my own."

Urzuran had declared those words to the masses right before His great sacrifice, words that had devastated and inspired Azrath those hundreds of years ago. Azrath did not know why he had recalled those words. If he were honest, he had always done his best to block out the events of that day. But Urzuran's words returned to his thought, slipping through the cracks of the barrier his mind had built. He had forgotten the sheer power of those words.

Until now.

He whipped around and marched towards the sword with a stride filled with renewed vigor.

If no one would protect the Earth, it was up to him. He stepped back onto the dais and reached for the hilt, grasping it in his right hand, pulling with all his might. At first, the sword refused to budge, but then, little by little, the blade began to slide out of the seal that locked the Eingh within the sword. Then, as the tip of the blade freed, he began to feel warmth creeping up his arm and move throughout the rest of his body.

Azrath had never felt such power! He felt like his body should be glowing blue with the amount of Eingh that flowed through him. Azrath felt like he could do anything, absolutely anything!

As if guided by a force beyond his control, Azrath raised the blade heavenward and offered a prayer to the God who had given him everything.

"Great Lord Urzuran! As your humble servant, I do solemnly offer a vow to vanquish evil in your name. To return the peace you have given your life to create to all who seek it. Give me the strength to protect the innocent and deliver justice to those who wish to bring harm unto them!"

He hoped that Urzuran could at least hear him, wherever He was. Filled with a new sense of purpose, Azrath's thoughts turned to the sword itself. If there was any time for the sword to unlock the way to Earth, it was now. He could feel it in his very essence as Urzuran's will flowed through him.

The Ahngreel would regret ever having the thought of invading the Earth. The people of Earth needed a hero. He, Azrath, was no hero, but maybe one day, he would be remembered as one.