Elemental Genesis

***

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Ever Approaching

Night sat at the table, sulking and scowling magnificently. Across from him, Zylle was barely suppressing an amused smile as she sipped her morning tea. Sarah, however, was far less tactful. She made no attempt to hide her visibly shaking shoulders as she ate her waffles. So much that Night thought she might start choking. He for one was not going to perform the Heimlich maneuver if the need arose. All right, he would. But he was still peeved. Shadow sat at his feet, imperiously eating his meal like a king at a banquet.

"Night, stop making that face," Zylle said, failing miserably at her shot at being stern.

"You didn't nearly have you scalp scrubbed off your head!"

Gran could not help it. She snorted into her breakfast and after swallowing, broke down laughing. This only made Night grimace even more. Meanwhile, Shadow, lazily looking up from his food, gave the older woman a withering look before tucking into his meal once more.

"But If I didn't do what I did," Zylle sagely pointed out, "you would still have all that stardust in your hair."

Lifting a strand of his hair, once black but now gilded in gold and silver, he replied, "I still do."

"Not as much," countered his mother. "Only streaks now." It was true; his once messy black locks were now streaked with gold and silver. Zylle had tried to get as much as she could out, but not all of it could be removed.

"Yes," Gran chuckled. "Your hair isn't completely like that now. If any one looks at you funny, just say you dyed your hair that way. Lord knows I've seen worse. And on worse looking kids."

"You have a point...but why did you have to scrub so hard?!" he asked indignantly.

"Because stardust is like that," Gran replied still laughing. She gathered up the dishes to put in the kitchen for washing. As she picked up Shadow's dish, the black cat gave her a contemptuous glance with its startling green eyes. Shaking a finger at the feline, she playfully chided, "No more for you! We don't want you getting fat now, do we?"

In Night's opinion, it looked like Shadow did want to get fat.

Humming Gran took the dishes and the cat's food dish into the kitchen. Shadow got up and haughtily walked after her. Apparently, Shadow thought he was still entitled to more food.

"What is stardust exactly?" Night asked.

"Well...it's a combination of the elements in a certain specific fashion that makes a particular glowing dust. None of us can make it offhand; it takes a lot of preparation. If a person hasn't had any previous contact with the stuff, then it sticks to you. That is, if you touch it directly."

"Like my hair."

"Exactly. But most people don't touch it. Nor," Zylle said, "do they end up with it in their hair.

He mulled this over before inquiring, "How were you exposed stardust?"

Zylle just smiled lightly. "Being exposed doesn't mean that you necessarily have to touch it. Being in the light of stardust is enough. Every year we have a festival where the lights we use glow from stardust." Seeing Night's confused face, she elaborated, "Festival of Stars, it's in the spring. It's a very old tradition, goes almost as far back as Grey Tower's founding. We celebrate the ending of winter and acknowledge the spirits of our ancestors that night."

"Will I be able to go to it?"

"Of course! You're an elemental and my son after all. Wait 'til you go, it's great."

Sighing with satisfaction, he felt at peace. It was a relief that she wasn't angry with him. After all, he had been found unconscious in an abandoned, taboo part of town where a strong explosion just occurred. He had informed Zylle of the Black Vulture and the two unconscious teens, but she had said that no one matching their descriptions had been found with him. He could only assume that they managed to get away somehow. But he was certain that he heard the scream of agony made by Celestine Algernon.

Night really couldn't explain what happened to him. He just remembered touching the stardust before something the equivalent of a jolt of electricity passed through him.

Then it was that odd feeling and those visions...

Afterward, while he was still confined to his bed, he asked the house for a biography on those who lived during the Phantom Wars. There was a lot of information inside it, especially on his grandmother and Zylle's father.

But when he found the section dedicated to Mirage Searle, he found very little. It detailed her early life, how she won the tournament of the Sekai-Kage, but it left a complete blank after an event called the "Starlands Explosion." He could only assume that this was the battle he saw before. The last information on her was that she had been briefly treated at Grey Tower Sanctuary before disappearing with still serious injuries. Not too far later, a person named Albus Dumbledore (whose name rung a bell at first, but Night assumed he had just heard in passing before) defeated Adlar Grindelwald. Then, nothing.

Night had decided to put in the back of his mind for now. At the moment, he was just going to content in being in his home with his family. Though why this brought him such amazing peace and security was bizarre.

<><><>

Ducking, he just barely avoided a plume of red flames fired his way. But that did not mean he did not feel its effects. The heat from the attack added to the perspiration already gathered on his brow. Reacting quickly once more, he jumped out of the way when several spires of rock appeared out of nowhere above him to crash down on his skinny frame. It was hard to retaliate when two very experienced elementals were attacking you.

Night tried to get his bearings, slightly panting. It had been like this for about...four hours around now. Hans and Gran were not going easy on him. They had decided to see how well he would do against two elemental opponents, not just one. Why they had made this change in the regime was beyond him, but he had to go along with it. When he had asked, they gave each other an odd look. Night just assumed it was for his own benefit. Even Franz, Hans' son, gave the boy a sympathetic look when he had stopped by to drop off some groceries for his father.

He grimaced from the protestations his body was giving him. Muscles he didn't know he had were stinging with pain. Well, he thought they were muscles. Hopefully, they were. Those were his thoughts as Hans performed a combination attack of fissure and fire magic. The attack known as 'Eruption' was especially tricky to perform. Not only did you have to have the perfect balance of fire and earth magic to do it, but it was a very slow attack despite its power. Night easily dodged it, but slightly burned with a fireball attack from Gran.

But he couldn't rest. If there was one thing that all four of his teachers - Zylle, Gran, Hans, and Professor Coulter - agreed on was that he wasn't to get a rest. In a real fight, his opponent wouldn't let him take a break and have a glass of water before catching his second wind. No, they wouldn't. Night had quickly learned that in fights with elementals, if your enemy was down, take advantage of the situation and strike before he could get up again. Zylle had told him that often the adversary in a tournament situation would give him a bit of time to catch up. Most elementals honored this courtesy. But real life was real life. And if someone were trying to kill him, waiting for the person to get back up again probably wasn't the wisest situation to act upon.

The only problem he had with this training session was that he wasn't allowed to use his wind or water magic at all. And those two elements would be a great help right about now. But he had no time to dwell on this as he quickly summoned up his fire glaive to parry a vertical slice from a viciously sharp earth elemental broadaxe. He released some of the strength he was using against the blow so that Hans would fall forward slightly.

It worked. Hans' eyes widened slightly as he fell forward and Night, not missing the opportunity, pushed him back and moved out of the way in case of a counterattack. But he had to guard himself once more as Gran attacked with a bladed staff of her own. Quickly, he tried to form a plan against her, but she was too fast. She easily knocked his glaive aside before slashing at him. Night was very thankful for all the work he had been doing with Zylle. A month ago, he would never have avoided that attack. With slightly shocked gray eyes (glasses would have only been cumbersome in this sort of training), he saw as the slice of her staff's blade incorporated fire with it.

"You've still got work to do, kiddo," Gran said grinning when they stopped briefly. "You'll do fine in the tournament."

"But," broke in Hans, approaching with his broadaxe ready. "That doesn't mean we'll go easy on you."

Why do I get the feeling this will just keep getting tougher and tougher?

<><><>

Bran had a red eyebrow quirked when he saw Night's hair, but didn't say what was on his mind. Trina, on the other hand, said her views right off the bat.

"What in the name of the eight hells of Dante happened to your hair?!"

Bran had put in that he was certain Dante had more than eight levels of hell in the novel The Inferno, but it looked like Trina wasn't particularly giving a damn about that. Night especially didn't expect to find himself tackled to the ground and have his hair inspected.

"Trina, do you mind getting off of me and to stop looking at my hair?"

"Not until you tell me when and why you dyed it, as well as what dye you used."

"A few days ago, it was an accident, and its stardust. Happy?" Yes, he wasn't pleased to be treated like this. Who knew that a change in hair color could be such a big thing?

They were in the park, at the beech tree that they know tended to gather at. Its expansive and papery leaves blocked out almost all light coming from the sun, making a nice shade for this sultry late summer afternoon. There were quite a few people in the park: plainly enjoying what was left of summer as they could. Night couldn't help but let a smile slip as two little kids started to splash each other in the water of a nearby fountain, to the disapproval of their mother. It was a peaceful scene.

Bran shook his head wryly. "How on Earth did you get stardust in your hair?"

"Eastern Starlands."

"Oh, so you got lost."

"I was not lost! I knew I was in Grey Tower and exactly where I was heading. Therefore, I wasn't lost."

"Right," Bran sarcastically drawled with a playful grin. "You were lost."

"Oh, leave him alone Bran," reprimanded Trina. "We all get stuck there at some point in our lives. But what did you do, Night? Stick your head in a pile of the stuff?"

Night laughed at that. "Actually, that was pretty close to what happened!"

Bran joined in with, "You never told me you were a Seer, Trina!"

"Shut up! See if I ever talk to you to again." But she said this with a smile. They knew Trina was like that. Night also found out recently that Trina did not think highly of prophecies and omens of that sort. This struck him as rather familiar, but he did not look to deep into it. Training or an interruption by Hedwig or Shadow usually drove these thoughts out of his mind.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here! The spectacular trio." All three simultaneously looked up at the sneering voice. Standing above them was Simeon Bradley. Harry's green eyes - he hadn't worn his contacts today - narrowed in dislike and he thought he could hear a low growl coming from Bran. Trina looked at him with extreme distaste. "I suppose you three think you're good enough for next week's tournament," he mocked. "You won't get far. Ravencroft and Smythe probably wouldn't make it into the second round and Hawking, you've only been around here for a month. I'd like to see how well you would do."

Night shook with suppressed rage and could easily feel Bran's fire aura flaring up violently. Trina's earth aura was also reacting to her anger. One had to wonder why Simeon was acting so stupidly on his part. He was angering three elementals. Those said elementals that had certainly taught him a thing or two during the past month.

"You won't stand a - bleugh!" All three of them blinked in surprise when out of nowhere, a stream of water hit Simeon directly in the face. He went toppling back at the force of it. Night, Bran, and Trina could only look dumbly at the scene before them. They weren't very sure how to react. None of them were expecting that.

"Oy, Bradley!" Night turned to the voice that hollered not far from the fountain. "Getting a bit cocky before the tournament, aren't you?" the newcomer scorned. It was then that Night recognized him. It was the boy who helped them with their prank on Simeon before. He had the same blue eyes, the same spiky light brown hair. At the moment, he was looking at Simeon with a great deal of dislike.

Simeon glared at the water elemental. "What would you know, Freely?! If I recall correctly, your family is still the shame of the elemental community!"

Night winced slightly at what could only be called a tidal wave hit Simeon dead on. Bran, in particular, flinched at that attack. It probably had to do with the fact that he was a fire elemental. On the other hand, Trina looked extremely amused. With that, the boy known as 'Freely' walked off towards the far end of the park, away from them. Simeon, meanwhile, just gave one final glare before running off.

"Who was that?" Night asked.

"That," Bran said quietly, "was Mordecai Freely. He's part of our clan. A water elemental obviously."

"They said his family was the shame of the elemental community?"

Trina nodded. "You might not want to mention that to him. The Freely family used to be part of the Rekka-Ki. You know how the Hawkings are usually the leaders of our clan? The Freelys were like that."

"Yeah, then the Phantom Wars happened," added Bran. "Neron's Disaster was aptly named. A lot of elementals were killed because Neron Freely, Black Chimera of the time, caused a huge tidal wave that did more damage to our side than the Phantoms. A younger brother took over and was a good leader, but the family couldn't live with the shame. So, they transferred to the Arashi-Tenku with Sarah Hawking's permission."

"What's he like?"

The expressions of both Trina and Bran turned thoughtful. This had Night puzzled. From what he had seen of Grey Tower, everyone knew each other relatively well. And the clans shared common schools, so no doubt they would have an idea on his personality.

"You know," Bran responded, "I really don't know."

Trina looked over in the direction Mordecai left. "He's never been one to stand out in the crowd and I think his family has a lot of pressure on him. In the last tournament, they had someone competing. Mirai Alucard defeated him though. As a result, he got disowned. The Freelys really want someone as a leader again."

Night nodded neutrally. This Mordecai Freely sounded pretty intriguing.

The tournament.

It was on everyone's minds. A lot of teens he noticed, had vanished off such gathering places as Sky Lane and Ignatius Street to places unknown. But he had heard various adults complaining about the procrastination of "the young people" and how they should have been prepared months ago. Others grumbled about how their children would not be able to compete because of they "needed more time to train". Yet another group protested against its early start.

From his own clan, he knew a few who were entering. Himself, for one. Bran and Trina were also giving it a shot, but all three agreed to stay friends even if they had to fight each other. Pierce Rowan and Simeon Bradley were also contenders. Trina knew a few girls who were fighting, but Night didn't remember their names off the bat. Bets were even being taken on who would get what position. From what he could hear of the local gossip, there was quite a bit of gold on his name for a number of positions. He could only assume this was because he was Nuitari Hawking.

He wondered how he would do. Only a month's worth of elemental training seemed pathetic in comparison to those, who like Mordecai Freely, had probably been training for this day for most of their lives. But he was taught by the best. He had to take comfort in that.

A stray wind mussed his silver and gold streaked black hair, briefly revealing a thin thunderbolt scar on his forehead.

<><><>

"What on Earth do you think you're playing at! I expect better from you! Make an effort or is that beyond you?" Night flipped out of the way as an assault of icicles was sent his way, but he was hit in the side by Professor Coulter's water staff. But Professor Coulter did not just hurt him with the staff's hit. As soon as the water weapon came in contact with his body, he felt extreme cold. When he steadied himself, he found half of his upper body and a great deal of his right arm incased in frosty ice. In the meager lantern light of Professor Coulter's dungeon-like basement, it glittered like a thousand prisms in the sun.

Night repressed the urge to scream. Such was training with Professor Coulter: a harsh session that strained his body and his mind to the limits while putting excessive abuse on his self-esteem. He knew that she did not mean most of what she said. It was just her way teaching. She expected nothing but his very best and if he didn't try, she got annoyed. If you had the power, then there was no point in not using it unless you had a good reason.

"You have all this potential and power in your hands! Use it!" She moved so fast that he could barely see her. Professor Coulter had been going even tougher on him since his fight with Ian Harlan. In her opinion, Night should have been able to take Ian out without sustaining as much damage as he did.

Zylle had been skeptical of this. In his mother's opinion, he had done exceptional job. Night had taken on the Black Panther, the future leader, of a known and dangerous Phantom clan. He had won with only a month's training. Zylle had been very happy with him, so much that she gave him a huge present of one of the family's treasures. Even now, the bracelet made out of strong shining silver with a gold protection spell on it was on his wrist. It heightened his defensive abilities. Now, Night felt more than safe. With this bracelet, his shield spells, as well as the stardust, he wondered why he needed to be protected. But Zylle was adamant in her belief that the Phantoms would come after him again.

He was worried now though. The ice would hinder his speed. Not to mention, his dominant arm was slower at the present because of it. Shrugging as much as he could with one frozen arm, he switched his own water staff to his left hand. Night had no memory of learning to use his left hand as adeptly as his right, he just knew that he could. It was quite a useful skill, especially if he ended up in these sort of situations.

He jumped up slightly when she made a slice for his legs before bringing down his staff from above. She quickly brought up her weapon to parry, but Night managed to make a quick slice to her own side. He copied her move freezing her own limbs. Before landing and attacking her outright. Professor Coulter, experienced fighter that she was, moved out of the way though.

A mocking smirk graced her features. With a quick flick of her wrist, the ice disappeared off her body. "You're learning. But you need to remember what you know about your opponent." He scowled. Night knew that he would never really satisfy her expectations of him. He doubted that she herself fulfilled the what she expected of herself. Zylle had said this was normal of her. But Night could help but admire, even if he was intimidated by, the drive of Professor Lavinia Coulter.

He wondered how other people thought of her at first glance. Professor Coulter was attractive - even he admitted that - but her beauty was ice-like. Pale skin, cold blue eyes, and hair that didn't seem to every get messed up. She also had style, acting almost as if she wherever she was, she was in charge. Also, he had not known anyone who could move as quickly as she could with high-heeled sandals on.

Out of all of his trainers, Professor Coulter by far was the strictest. Though he expected this. She was not spoken of with terror around the entire population of Grey Tower Town with terror for nothing. And even Zylle had admitted that she was nearly beaten by Lavinia in their tournament years ago. Only a combo attack of the Windcaller Jin technique and the Hellfire Inferno, secured her win.

"Don't you think you're going a bit hard on me?"

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. "I've seen how the other water elementals trained."

"Note your words, Mr. Hawking. You said 'other'. I am not training other water elementals. I'm training you." Her ice blue eyes narrowed, blatantly asking him to challenge her authority.

<><><>

Night looked up at the imposing building warily, Trina and Bran on either side of him. It was made of cold and smooth gray stone, unrelenting in its strength. Green tile covered the roof where it wasn't interrupted by a gable or turret. The architecture had a gothic feel to it. The front stairs leading to the doorway were brutal: large and numerous in number. Lifeless statues of the animals of each clan were scattered about in the front courtyard, all of equal height and proportion, even of the ones from Phantom clans. It was easy to pick out the impressive dragon of the Arashi-Tenku, roaring to the skies in a defiant pose. Next to it stood an aloof wolf, watching everything with stone eyes. Night's eyes steeled slightly when they passed a monument of a panther. The arched entrance has enormous as were the heavy wooden doors leading into the structure. Above them at each corner of the daunting building crouched four snarling stone gargoyles, each holding an orb of a different color. One could almost call it a small castle in the middle of a sea of modern glass and steel.

Inscribed high above the entrance, in stark gothic letters, were the words: GREY TOWER HIGH SCHOOL. Night felt slightly intimidated by its commanding aura, but assumed he would get used to it sooner or later. Bran and Trina didn't seem to be affected by it. Then again, they had lived in Grey Tower Town all their lives.

"This is the high school?" He had a skeptical eyebrow raised when he asked this. To him, it looked more of a fortress than a school. Were the teachers trying to coerce the students into cooperation through this building?"

"Yeah," Bran said, scowling slightly. It was no wonder why. Night knew that besides Trina, Bran used to have no one. And Trina always had to leave at certain points in the year because of her father's career and fame. The redhead was always happy for the girl when she left, but Night could sympathize with what had to be a lonely time for him. Being practically a genius at his studies did not help much. And Simeon Bradley, to top it all off, made it miserable for him.

Then again, Simeon Bradley's presence anywhere ruined everything. But Night wasn't concerned with that established fact of his current life at the moment.

Trina, like she did with mostly everything, took it in stride. She wasn't an outcast like Bran was, so she was slightly luckier. Trina mostly stayed by Bran, even though she had quite a crowd of friends. Her skills at sketching and crafts put her in high demand. Also, she was more or less an average student with average abilities. She wasn't bothered that much and viewed school as something she had to do. "Don't pay attention to Bran," she said to him. "It isn't all that bad."

Bran snorted derisively at this.

"Seriously," Trina repeated, giving a scathing glare at the other boy. Bran just raised his hands in a placating manner, his face baring a hilarious expression of nervous terror. Night just grinned in amusement. Trina may seem easy-going and calm at first, but she had quite the temper when riled up.

"But," he asked, "why does the school look like this?"

Instinctively, he and Trina turned to Bran. Sighing, he replied, "Originally, this was a sanctuary and a fortress to protect Grey Tower Town from any aggressive outside forces. But around the mid-eighteenth century, a better school building was needed. Since they didn't want to raise money and they had a unused large building in good condition right here, well there you go."

"It's the summer though," insisted Night. He had never heard of a school open during the summer months before. Weren't the officials afraid of vandalism? Theft? Things blowing up in the chemistry labs?

"We know, but the school is open all year. The gym is really good for training," Trina clarified as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "The chem. Labs are sometimes open, but Professor Coulter is pretty strict about them. One thing out of place and you're dead."

Night nodded understandingly. It didn't take much imagination to envision Professor Coulter ruthlessly going after those who had vilified her labs. Even during training sessions, she made it clear that he wasn't to touch any potions or ingredients in her home. Night admitted that she was a good potions maker - he had found out later that most of the medicines used at Grey Tower Sanctuary Hospital were made from her formulas - if a trifle anal retentive about their care.

Together, the trio walked in. Almost immediately his attention was grabbed towards the ceiling. If not for the large glass windows, Night was sure that the ceiling would be nothing more than a mass of shadows. A large stone flight of steps, carved with curious runes and spidery lettering, lead to upper levels. The walls were not of the same harsh rock, but of a clean marble, with more of the same markings. Walking past the staircase, they turned a few more corners. The path they took was dizzying. Night tried to discern signs to remember their path, but he found it impossible. No, the halls and corridors were far too winding. Yet, Bran and Trina seemed to know exactly where they were going. They even entertained him with some stories they had of the rooms they passed.

"Oh, that's where Pierce Rowan turned a chair into a rhinoceros. The damage that caused..."

"You wouldn't believe what Violet Tennebaum did in that class. Never mess with earth elementals with stun spore, Night. Personally, I think all earth elementals are vicious - ow!"

"Do you remember what happened last year, Bran? When Angela made it snow? In June, no less?"

"Don't go into that classroom - trust me - it's like being in a veritable toaster...I wonder if that's been fixed yet?"

Finally, they stopped in front of a set of double doors, slightly larger than the rest. Night could vaguely hear the shouts and noises of people behind them. They opened one of the doors and walked in.

All at once, Night was assaulted with cheers and jeers. The crowd was of numerous people his own age around a raised ring of some kind. Two people were standing in the ring. One of them, he recognized as Julian Wavers. The other, a shorter boy with a closed expression and a wiry build, was someone he hadn't met before. He was a Kiri-Kaminari, judging from his falcon tattoo. Julian was holding a mace of water magic while his opponent was using a plain earth elemental staff. They circled each other warily and he noted that they were gauging the other's abilities. The crowd around them was wild, each screaming both encouragement and insult in a manic frenzy. It surrounded him, enveloped him, and even at some level scared him. There was nothing but the thrill of the fight, the excitement of the battle, the joy of victory, and the heartless sting of defeat. It was nothing but pure human conflict in the most beautiful and civilized sense: a duel. Not to the death, but rather to show strength and to improve, to gain more than what they had originally had. The crowd went wild with this ideal of man against man, one against the other. However, the objects of their attention did not seem to notice the tumult around them as they were completely focused on the movements of their adversary.

Julian made the first move. Faking to the left, he struck his water mace from the right, hoping to catch the other off-guard. The unknown boy merely moved out of the way and in one fluid movement brought his staff to strike at Julian's sides. Night flinched at the expression of pain on Julian's face, but the black-skinned boy got his revenge by swinging his mace at his challenger's legs, succeeding in upsetting the boy's balance and at causing damage. The boy luckily rolled to the side as Julian tried to hit him while he was on the ground and brought his staff up in a defensive position. They went back to circling each other again. But one could tell that there was no real grudge between the two. Julian's smile was not that of a cocky contender but one of friendly sport. The other looked mildly amused. Mildly. Night found it rather hard to believe that someone could guard his or her expression that well.

Bran chuckled, "I wonder who'll win this one."

"Who knows?" replied Trina. "Julian is good, but so is Victor. He won't go down without a fight." Night continued to watch the scrap between the two in an awed silence. Zylle had told him about these practice bouts, but Night began to think that she purposely left out information. Such as where they took place. Most likely, she did so to keep him away from these fights. There was no supervision from any adult, so anything could happen. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a familiar blonde girl waiting on the side. Well, if anyone was injured, they could be sure that Mirabelle Diamante would help them.

It was then that a beautiful redhead not to far off caught his attention. Her straight hair was a much brighter shade of red than Bran's and was very long in length, seeming to go slightly past her small waist. She had quite the figure and apparently did not make any attempt to hide it with her revealing designer clothing. Whoever she was, she was talking airily to the girl next to her. For a brief moment, Night caught glimpse of her face: wide spaced blue eyes, a small noise, and a perfectly shaped mouth. A regular teenage boy's dream.

But all thoughts of how good-looking she was disappeared as her expression twisted into that of a sneer. Following her line of sight, Night saw Esperanza Rodriguez standing next to a girl with pale yellow hair. They were talking animatedly to each other while keeping an eye on the fight. Well, Esperanza was. She was loudly cheering for Julian. The other girl, who looked to be the quiet type, seemed to be supporting the other boy, Victor. The pretty Spanish girl from the restaurant did not seem to notice the glare she was receiving. Or if she did, she didn't care.

"Hey Bran," Night said quietly as to not to attract Trina's attention. He had the distinct impression that Trina didn't like that girl. It was a strong hunch on his part. After all, he didn't think that Trina would like someone who acted like the young woman was. And Trina was a good friend of Esperanza.

"Who?" When he saw whom Night was talking about, Bran gave a sad knowing smile. "Don't try it, Night. Gwendolyn Hopkirks is not a nice girl, no matter how great she looks. She's broken the hearts of many an adolescent."

"Really?"

"Yeah..."

Concerned, he asked, "What happened?"

"End of the year tests. Who else to get the answers from than the school genius?" Bran's voice was filled with scorn and anger, not towards him but to the red-haired girl.

Night nodded and took another look at Gwendolyn Hopkirks. This time, however, she noticed his gaze. Immediately, her smile became coquettish and she gave a small flirtatious wave.

He had a sinking feeling about her...

<><><>

"What you're asking is basically how to infiltrate Hogwarts." Tom Riddle stood in the main hall of Annuvin. He, of course, was not dead. But he was a soul, like the rest who passed through the dreaded doors of the castle of the dead. He was dressed better than the previous times he had been in this room. When he had first came, he hadn't cared what he looked like and managed to make himself appear to be a raving insane wizard who was extremely poor. The other times, he was largely in drab clothing with his hair and features unkempt. He hadn't known how much he was hurting Melania, the Dark Lady, with this. But now...

Now he looked as he should: a proud wizard of impressive power. His mixed dark brown and black hair - much like her own locks - were combed, though still untamable. Not as untidy as Harry's, but messy nevertheless. His new black robes were trimmed and accented with a light silver metal that was extremely rare and hard to come by. A body that was now standing confidently with no sign of uncertainty or self-doubt wore them. Tom's dark blue eyes, now containing the specks of gold and silver that were distinctive to those born to the line of Erebus of Tartarus that had not existed when he was in his body, were bright and intelligent. It did Melania good to see him like this.

"Exactly."

"It will be difficult, you know," he advised sagely. "Particularly since Dumbledore is bound to be especially paranoid about newcomers into Hogwarts."

Melania sat on her dark throne, looking as regal as ever in a fluid Chinese silk dress colored in dark blue. Her silver highlighted dark hair was up in a loose and messy bun, sticks holding the mass together and in place. Gold and silver flecked blue eyes looked anxiously at the young man before her. Her descendant. Of course, Tom did not know that she was his ancestor. Neither did Harry. And it was for their safety that she did not tell them. If those on the mortal side found out that her blood ran through their veins, then more would be after them. She had faith in their abilities, there was no question of that, but the whole world against them would be a difficult thing to bear.

Though Tom was now doing better than he had been doing for the past fifty years. Melania noted that he wasn't so depressed and he no longer moped around morosely in Lethe. He was more concerned now with what was going on. She assumed that contact with Harry was doing him wonders. A pang of guilt hit her: she had no intention to make Tom feel lonely. But it had to be done. And it was Lethe's nature to make those forget. But since Tom was born to a dark deity, he was resistant to this effect. It was unfortunate that she had to sacrifice his happiness for his safety. But she wasn't going to give Pheta another shot at destroying him.

Melania couldn't help wondering what those two could do. She had lost James - if she ever had him to begin with. It was unfortunate that the "Descendant of Darkness" had denounced her in favor of the false light. But then again, he had no idea of who he was or what he was doing. Dumbledore, as well as the rest of his family, had him practically brainwashed against all things dark. But, most of born in those times were. And they, believing themselves in the right, would pass their hatred of her to their children. And so it would continue through the generations until they realized that she who they worshipped so highly would be their executioner. The irony that pervaded over so much in the universe.

Now she only had two: Tom, who held the title of, "Dark Sovereign" and Harry, who was the "Dark Prince". Why they were given those ranks were unknown to her. She never gave the titles out, Destiny did. Then again, she and her aunt never really got along. Destiny was always too conniving, too willing to manipulate the lives of others and the course of events just so she would achieve an outcome that she thought was either best...or amusing. But she definitely wasn't going to let Pheta, no matter what would or will happen, have her last two descendants.

"Can you think of any way to get into Hogwarts, Tom?" she asked. This was important. They needed agents on the inside. Hogwarts was primarily Pheta's territory. It was true that some parts of the castle were wholly hers, but the charms on them were complex and ancient. Only those in her service could access them. If she managed to break Pheta's control over Hogwarts, it would be a serious blow to the light goddess' plans. Also, it would help them keep an eye on the Order of the Phoenix, which students were Voldemort's spies, and listen in on what was going on in the wizarding world.

The young man looked thoughtful. "You might try sending over a person to act as a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. That is, if the jinx on that position is still holding and if the applicant manages to gain Dumbledore's trust quickly." Melania smirked slightly at this. Was it any wonder that the specific curse she had put in the office of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was working? She used it as a way to see who was competent or not. Most of the time, she let them stay only a year. Those Dumbledore chose were usually extreme supporters of Pheta. Though Remus Lupin had left on his own accord.

"Students would also make ideal spies," Tom noted. "They would be able to see how the current generation is thinking, as well as find out where their loyalties lie." He then added, "You could disguise them as transfer students, but you have to think up a really good excuse for their arrival. Hogwarts rarely, if ever at all, takes transfers."

Melania nodded. "I see. I'll have to see Moros about this. He is much better at this sort of thing that I ever was or will be."

Tom smirked. "I thought you hated Moros."

"I do," insisted the goddess. "But he is the god of deceit and trickery. No doubt he would have fun doing it."

"Who do you plan on being the agents?"

"I was thinking Raistlin might to a good job if I can get him to do it. I won't commission Reapers, but there are other choices. I would have to contact them though."

"Still, you have to be careful," Tom warned. "Any slip-ups could ruin everything."

"I know, especially since the Charms position has been replaced by someone new."

"New?" Tom sounded skeptical. "What happened to Jamison?" He paused, realizing his mistake. Jamison was the Charms professor in his time. "Sorry. I meant Flitwick?"

"Diagon Alley," she replied grisly. "He was there buying a few books when the Phantom elementals attacked."

"But how is this new teacher any threat?"

"I usually do not trust masters of command magic, especially when they have a lot of potential to be users of chaotic magic."

"Chaos sorcerer?" Tom's face had become slightly pale. But only slightly. The expression Tom masked it with was one of curiosity and concern. She could not blame him for getting worried though. Chaos sorcerers had enormous power and incredible destructive potential. Out of all the mortal magic users, they were by far the most feared.

"No...I think this one might be a Soulseeker," she assured him. "He's a renegade, neutral at the moment. But I have reason to believe that the Order of the Phoenix is trying to secure his loyalties to Pheta."

<><><>

He collapsed on the ground panting. "Okay," he managed to choke out. "I think I'm done." His black hair was plastered heavily to his forehead while his whole body felt like it had been through a wringer several times over. Night's breath came out in short gasps from his exhaustion and he really didn't think he could get up.

But he had been in non-stop training with Zylle for the past six hours. His adoptive mother had taken the day off her job at the London Broadcasting Network to help train him. Actually, she was given a whole week's vacation. Her boss understood that she had family things and holidays to take care of, so he let her off. So, during the week, Zylle would be one of those watching and overseeing the tournament while having a few days left over for general rest.

Night admitted he felt guilty for making her work harder. She had, after all, spent hours with numerous elementals and in the library researching the properties of stardust. Apparently, Zylle had been inspired by what Dr. Annie said about the substance when it got into his hair. Stardust's unique effect of increasing defensive power and resistance against magic made it the ideal strengthen tool for the wards around Grey Tower. But it took quite a bit of magic to make the stuff and even more work to distribute it around the town. This probably wasn't doing her much good, but she insisted that he get one more lesson from her before the tournament.

"Besides," she had said. "I can't let you go out there without one last lesson from me."

Unfortunately for Night, he didn't know she meant going all out on him. Throughout the entire fight, he had to use everything he had ever learned in Grey Tower and about elemental magic. Speed, timing, skill, and more were required just to ensure that his head wouldn't get slashed off. And that wasn't even counting her elemental magic attacks!

Zylle Hawking wasn't the Black Dragon of the Arashi-Tenku for nothing.

Kneeling down to his level, she said, "Yep. You've had enough, kiddo."

"I hadn't noticed," was the dry reply.

She smiled affectionately. "I'm afraid that it's a Hawking tradition to wear the trainee down until they couldn't get up." But she frowned in thought. "No...it's a Vartar tradition. It came from Mum's side of the family."

Pulling himself up in a sitting position, he remarked, "You never mention them."

"Because they are all gone. Other than my mother - and now you - I have no other family." Zylle laughed lightly. "Not even cousins or distant relatives."

"How do you-"

"There's a record book in the library of every clan member and their family line. Didn't Mum tell you?"

His ears pricked. "Every clan member?" was his curious question. If this were true...if Zylle wasn't kidding him...then his answers could be found in one simple book...

Zylle, however, beat him to it. It was not hard for her to figure out what was going through his mind. His sudden attentiveness, his covert glance at the dragon of the stormy skies on his left arm, the shine of hope in gray concealed green eyes. Night may have been exhausted and physically drained, but it was obvious what his idea was. "Though the book does show ancestry, it doesn't work for you. An elemental must be aware of their past to do so. If you were abandoned or an orphan in an institution, you wouldn't even have to meet your parents to look and find the answers. But you need to have past memories - a complete memory - to know." She gave him a sad smile and put a finger to his lips when he tried to contest her statement. "Yes, I looked just in case there was a glitch or anything. But there wasn't a single thing for your past."

Night closed his eyes and sighed in self-pity. He scolded himself for getting his hopes up. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. He had the feeling that life would never be that way for him. Did he just attract mystery and danger? It certainly seemed so with his amnesia, the fact that the Phantoms were targeting him, and whatnot. At first, he thought that his association with Zylle could put her in danger. But he soon realized this epiphany: Zylle was an adult and she, along with Gran, loved him. Even if he did try to run away in an attempt to shield her, he knew instinctively that they would come looking for him. And no doubt find him. Zylle and Gran could take care of themselves very well. She had been doing so for years, long before he had come into their lives. And both were Black Dragons. Gran may have been elderly, but she was still a formidable fighter. And Zylle even more so.

But what happened? What happened that made all this occur? Something must have triggered all this. How did he end up in a hospital, healed but hearing that if he had come in just a few minutes later he could have died? The fact that he had been to what he could only call another world was also a good question. Why did he end up in Lethe, the dark realm of oblivion, and the last stopping place for souls before they were given judgment? Who was the Dark Lady and why did she protect him out of all people? What was his past?

Unbidden, words came to his mind. Terrible things happen in the world, no matter how much we try to kid ourselves that this is not the case. There are good things too, frightfully much less in number than the bad. But that makes the good seem all the more better, I suppose. Tom had said that, with a heavy grief ingrained in his voice. Right at that moment, Night could definitely believe that Tom had been through a lot. And that it hurt much more than he let on.

He snapped back to reality when he found himself wrapped in a motherly hug. Zylle had encircled him in a warm embrace, one that he easily returned. Even if he didn't know his past or what happened to him to make this all come about, he was grateful. He had family.

<><><>

The lights of London were bright even if it were the dead of night. But for once, the sky was clear as crystal. It was unfortunate that no one would notice this change in the sky. Any experienced person who lived in the city knew that all light from the stars was faded out by the harsh illumination that came from streetlamps and electricity. Often, thick and hazy clouds covered the expanse until dawn and morning breezes blew them away. Cars made harsh sounds as they drove by on silent streets, able to be heard for blocks on end. Yet, those who lay sleeping in their houses did not stir. Or if they did, they quickly fell back into the realm of their subconscious mind. Hypnos did his work well.

Tonight, around the world, things were happening. For this night, this one night, was a sacred time. Shamans in the far southern lands of Africa danced around fires to the beat of fast-paced drums, fragrant smoke rising into the night sky. Ritualists sacrificed one sacred animal and drank to the future. In the Dark Tower, far from the sight of normal men and wizards, the dark justices prayed and gave thanks. Vampires looked up to the red orb, once pure white, hanging in the sky and gave reverence. These and many others who lay hidden from the muggles and wizards celebrated in their own ways this event. One of the great holidays of magic: the Night of the Scarlet Moon, where magic prepared for its eventual renewal on the Night of Winter Rebirth. Even muggles, so unaware of the wonders that went on around them, knew that day: they called it Winter Solstice. But the Night of the Scarlet Moon had to occur. For now, that was on the mind of many a magic user.

They say that odd things happened then. Strange things. Travelers spoke of shadows that spoke in the night, of dread beasts in the dark sanctuary of mysterious forests, and of spectral dogs stalking the pale gravestones of the deceased. Hecatians, those who practiced their magic in the name of the witch goddess of darkness, spoke of a foreign divinity not from this earth, but from another, where sorcery was as commonplace as trees were. A goddess who came from a paradise planet to gaze in a spectacular show of power upon the small blue sphere that was their home in pity. They called said that sometimes she walked on the earth, watching the world while wearing a bright red cloak. Lunitari, they called her, goddess of the red moon. But whether the myths of this itinerant goddess were true were not proven.

One deity did know the truth of this. Actually, several knew. But she, like the rest of them, would not say. She saw no reason to. Also, the younger gods who did not know would interfere if they did. Young ones. They were always rushing into things...never using foresight to see if their actions were the best for the time.

For mortals, she could give some leeway. After all, they had only a short time period of life. Though that was from her point of view. She was a goddess, forever immortal unless killed by her creator or by one of the Harbingers. But the Universe was apathetic to the fate of this planet and had moved on to others. As for the Harbingers, she was certain they were somewhere. Their punishment - something she herself could not imagine going through - they were alive. The Universe had created the Harbingers, the bringers of annihilation, revolution, and rebirth. Which meant that though the Almighty could punish them all he liked, they could never die by his hand.

Though things would be so much simpler if they were around. Pheta's plans would have been halted at the beginning and none of this needless bloodshed would have to occur. If the Harbingers had been alive, her daughter's heart would never have been broken. If they had been alive, the threat of the Dark Gateway opening would be naught but nil. Her children would not be worrying about their own descendants living on the mortal plane. The Harbingers had brought a balance to the universe that not just anyone could fill.

Alas, it was different. And she knew better to dwell on 'what if's. She missed them terribly: they weren't that bad when they were not doing their job. And she was certain Erebus and her sister-in-laws, Destiny and Hecate, shared her opinion. She doubted that many others did. She was one of the oldest gods to ever exist and they lacked much knowledge that millennia of experience had brought her.

It was not as if she wasn't happy with what she had. On the contrary, she was quite pleased. She had a loving husband (who was at times unbearably cute - though he being who he was would never admit that) and practically a litter of children. Even though now and then they did foolish things, she cared for them, even when she was supposedly 'yelling' at them. She personally thought of it as discipline.

There was a special reason why she was out on this night of all nights, excluding the fact that this was a hallowed and consecrated evening. She had an appointment to keep. One made by her meddling sister-in-law and a descendant of hers through one of her daughters. Ah, there he was.

Lady Nyx stood on the rooftop of one of the tallest buildings in London, as dramatic and queenly as ever. She wore a black sophisticated garment in the fashion of the women of ancient Greece. She had been quite taken with that period of time. Pity it had to end. Around her shoulders and held loosely in her pale hands was the cloak of the night, dark blue and studded with diamonds. It was much different than the light blue and white shades that her counterpart, the day goddess Hemera, carried. Brown eyes brimming with age-old wisdom and alarming in what appeared to be a forty-something face, focused on something not too far away in the distance. Her wavy white locks, much softer and more refined than those of her daughter Artemis', moved slightly with the gentle breezes of this evening. She had planned it this way, of course. Being the goddess of the night had a lot of perks.

In the blink of an eye, she vanished to appear somewhere else. That somewhere else happened to be the elemental community of Grey Tower Town. There were a few things that she recognized from the original town. The old guardhouse had been turned into a school and the ancient tower's basement into a hospital. A majority of the houses were also quite old, those in particular belonging in the territories of the Sekai-Kage. It was unfortunate that they had died out. That clan was truly admirable.

She had finally found him. When Destiny had come calling and spoke of this boy, she was not kidding when she said he took after the family quite a bit. His dark hair was similar to those that her husband, a majority of her sons, and her daughter - his ancestor - possessed. He also had their eyes, but she noticed that her high cheekbones and facial structure had shone through as in Melania. Emerald green eyes were beginning to take on the characteristic specks, no doubt from being in a healthy environment with a lot of contact with her family. Though she wondered why he had that particular substance in his hair. Stardust was a very common magical defense amplifier. But why his hair? If he would've have done just as well by making a small object of it. But to each his own, she supposed. Hopefully, Thanatos would not get any ideas of his own. Nyx had nearly died when he came back that one time with a mohawk in a violently revolting green. Thankfully, Erebus had resolved it quickly. Gold and silver in his hair was not as shocking as that.

He was sitting on the roof of the Hawking familial home. The house - Number 14, if she recalled correctly - let her through its protective shields with no protest. Quietly approaching him, she noticed several disconcerting things about him. He was still frightfully thin and short, even if he was recovering. Years of abuse and neglect on the body were always hard to reverse. But there were good signs as well. Nyx had observed the boy several times before and she had never seen that spark of liveliness and contentment in his eyes before. She had seen depression, rebellion, anger, sadness, and resignation, but rarely anything else. And his shoulders were no longer slouched as if wanting to hide in a corner. And she had to admit that he had a good memory to remember something as trivial a meeting as this. He was at peace and it was good for her old eyes to see.

"Hello, Nuitari," she said kindly. She suppressed a grin at his startled expression. His eyes, once so hardened that were the remnants of sights no child should ever see, were newly expressive in their emotions. But he swiftly hid them once more. Quickly, she took a slight look around their surroundings. White Owl, her husband's former servant, and that destructive spirit, Kardis, were not near them. No doubt they were taking advantage of the night's magic.

"You must be the night goddess," he said uncertainly. He had doubt in Destiny. How utterly unsurprising. Though she herself often wondered what the shorthaired deity was doing.

"You are correct."

"And that you would help me," he continued, still appearing to not trust in fate.

She sat down on the slate roof tiles next to him. "I will try my best," she responded. "But that does not mean I will answer every question you have." He nodded resignedly. Apparently, he was used to being kept in the dark about such things. "The answers will come to you soon, child. But you must be patient."

"I'm not very good at being patient, Lady."

Nyx repressed the urge to laugh outright. It would've been rude to do so. But how many times had she heard that same line uttered by Erebus under his breath, by Thanatos in frustration, and by Melania in her well-placed anger? It was amusing to her that such traits could be passed down through centuries, nearly a millennium, of generations. "Some things are best not to be revealed," she said wisely, conscious of his curious but reverent gaze.

"Well," he said. "Can you tell me what happened in the Eastern Starlands?" Nuitari shuddered slightly. "It was so...odd. I saw something that happened years ago. And there was something else...something hidden...something that isn't supposed to be shown to me...yet. I was seeing things and feeling things that were...unexplainable."

Ah. He had silver sight. It certainly explained why Melania had commissioned White Owl to guard him. The avian had a gift with psychics. Pheta had gotten so close to Tom by manipulating the silver sight to show him gruesome images of torture and pain to weaken his mind while allowing the demon greater control of the body. When she had been informed, this had upset her greatly. Silver sight was her own ability passed to her children; no other gods possessed this. "That was silver sight," she explained. "A psychic technique. It enables you to see the unseen, the unknown, the mysterious, and even in some respects the future."

"The future."

"Very indirectly. The clues are there. It takes you to string them together."

"That's why," he said, more to himself than to her. "Something is going to happen that dealt with the Sekai-Kage..."

"That would be my guess."

He then turned completely to her, his green eyes hopeful and inquiring. He was going to ask the question. It was the question that she could not answer just yet. For a moment, she was reminded of one of the Harbingers. Though she shook this thought out of her head.

"Do you know about my past?"

She sighed sadly, "...Yes."

Nyx could feel his excitement. It would be heartbreaking to tell him this. Should she tell him? But talking of his past would probably cause just as much pain. No. It would be best that he get a firm foothold here, where he had love and proper care, before he returned to the wizarding world. A journey back to cruelty and despair, it would certainly be.

"Can you tell me?" Suddenly, the hope vanished from his face like salt in water. "You can't, can you?"

"No."

"Figures," he muttered. "No one seems to want me to know."

"Nuitari..." she began, before breaking off. She didn't want to show too much favoritism. "I'm afraid to say it is for your own good that you don't remember."

Nuitari was startlingly perceptive. "It was bad, wasn't it? I was found nearly dead in a park. No one wants me to remember, not even my own mind. It was horrible, wasn't it, Lady?" All this was said in an accusing and resentful tone, but it was to be expected.

"Sometimes," she said slowly. "It's best not to remember to protect ourselves from even greater harm."

Nuitari's eyes narrowed. "But isn't the thought of not knowing cruel enough?"

"Cruelty." The word sounded macabre even to her ears. "It is cruel. But it is necessary."

And the moon, it's usual pearl white visage tainted with the scarlet hue of blood, shone down on the Earth that night.

***