"Angelus Morti"

[Professor Windwaltz]

ooc: invite only.

Talon had searched for Azrael for many days. He had now reached a place which he did not intend to go to ever again - the Graveyard. Talon had a great fear of Graveyards, a hidden and secret fear. His heart was numb within his rib cage. His eyes tried desperately not to look at the stones around him, nor the great Mausoleums that grew around him. Within each of those houses and under each of those stones lied a dearly departed - a person who once walked the Earth and met a tragic end. The very idea rang throughout his body, and he looked about - carefully keeping his eyes focused above the stones, so as not to see the Epitaphs. Why he had come here was a mystery to him, but it had been inspired by what had occured nigh a few hours ago.

He had been going down to get some leftover food from the Great Hall for the baby hawks that had been given to him. Liver, preferably, for Aylen had told him that was their favorite. But he had come across something much more interesting. The Great Hall was splattered with blood and chaos reigned. And among this sight, two words painted across the Heads' Table. He learned from eyewitnesses that a mad Lycan had painted those words. It became aware to him that the words, which meant "Angel of Death" in Latin must've been associated with the mad Lycan. When Talon had first returned to Magic Horizons as a teacher, it was under attack by a Dark Wizard named Danawi Dassous. This Danawi had created a large army, and it was the Professor Azrael who had mustered his own army against him. Talon fought alongside him, so remembered what Azrael could do to fight against the enemies of the school.

Yet time had passed since Danawi's fall. Azrael had disappeared, and none knew where he had gone. He was no longer a teacher, being replaced by Amythest Stevens, Talon's old friend. This made him smile, but it did not make him forget Azrael's cunning. Only Azrael now could help Talon fight this mad Lycan. That was why he was searching. But across all of Magic Horizons and the surrounding lands he went, and all he found was a rumor that Azrael frequently attended the Magic Horizons graveyard, a very morbid haunt. So Talon had come, and it was his final hope to find him.

So here he was. Talon tried not to make a single noise - not even a loud breath. He kept a numb state, not allowing himself to look at anything. Azrael was the only thing on his mind, and he had to find him. Coming at last to the great House of the Dead that he had seen when first he entered, he looked about and saw with horror that he had not found Azrael. "This couldn't be for nothing - Azrael, you haven't disappeared off the face of the Earth, have you? Azrael! Azrael! Where are you!?"

[Lord Azrael]

Azrael sat alone in the graveyard. It was the only place now where he truly felt at peace, isolated as it was from the rest of the world. Now, however, the stillness of the graveyard was shattered, another living being now approached. This was his realm, the realm of the dead, where none should tread without his leave, for none could be permitted to discover where the former professor had disappeared to. To do so would endanger everything he had worked for, it simply would not do to let his name be associated with a resting place of corpses.

Reflexively Azrael drew his wand, unsure whether to fight against this intruder or simply depart for a short while until they were gone. It surprised him greatly to hear his own name mentioned, even more so by the person who the voice belonged too. Oho! Azrael thought to himself, So he got himself involved in my little party crashing after all. Splendid.

Taking swift strides, Azrael rapidly approached the Professor, who seemingly had not noticed his presence yet. Pocketing his wand, Azrael hailed the Professor, “Greetings, Talon, my old friend, it has been long since we last have met.” he wore his robes of white, as he had done when he had himself been a professor, not so long ago, yet now they were tattered and dirty, his loss of a job having taken it’s toll. Yet even so he now spoke with an almost cheerful air, contrasting quite sharply to their present setting.

[Professor Windwaltz]

The last echoes of his cry disappeared off the stone, and Talon sighed softly. Perhaps it was a pointless search. Perhaps Talon would be left alone to fight against the Angelus Morti without Azrael's help. Just as he began to formulate a second plan, he heard the echo of footsteps from behind him. Allowing his wand to slip from his sleeve in caution, he breathed deeply and turned around. His mouth was left open, but no curse came from it. The wand lowered quickly, and Talon cried out joyfully. He had found whom he was looking for - Azrael had arrived. Azrael's appearance brought great sympathy from the History Professor, for Talon knew quite well the suffering of unemployment. In fact, Azrael was quite like Talon now, both wearing a tattered and beaten shadow of their former glories.

"Azrael!" he said, bringing his joyful shout into a word. "Indeed it has been a long time, my friend, and it is wonderful to see you again!" A large smile was plastered across his face as his mind continued to race with the same thoughts - his search had not been in vain. "When I heard that the Headmistress had wrongfully ejected you, I was most displeased. Where have you wandered, are you doing anything new?"

[Lord Azrael]

Azrael’s expression darkened for the briefest of seconds at first mention of his loss of career, as though a shadow had passed over his face. Yet it lasted for only the briefest of moments, his cheerful demeanor returning as he placed a hand on the back of his head, grinning as he did so, “Guess they don’t provide tenure for heroes, or so I would like to think of myself as one. Not that I happened to do much myself, only rounded up a slew of those willing to fight for a just cause, yet still, you would think my efforts would at least have gained me some sort of occupational stability in life.”

Clearing his throat, he decided to address the questions asked of him, “You ask where it is I have wandered? Where is it I could possibly wander to? I have nowhere to go to. I am no longer welcome at the school, for they would not permit one such as I to wander the halls unquestioned and unhindered. As for anything new, that news shall come soon enough. Indeed for that information I turn to you, Talon. How have you been keeping? It seems to long since I have had time for friendly conversation, although I doubt that is what you sought me for.”

[Professor Windwaltz]

Though it was but brief, Talon sensed the darkness come over Azrael's face at the sound of his ejection. This was nothing to be surprised of - nobody liked to remember losing their job. Talon, as he had stated, was greatly displeased when he discovered that Azrael had been canned by Claire, but - if it were possible - he was growing more and more displeased at the motion as Azrael spoke of how the school had betrayed him. "Yes, well..." Talon began, a whole slew of things running through his head. Though this slew was refocused as Azrael cleared his throat loudly.

Talon's questions were answered in the most mysterious of ways. Indeed Azrael was right - where could a man such as he wander? Jobs that require Seers were rare in the world. Talon silently chastised himself for mentioning such a touchy subject, but then his attention was drawn to the next thing Azrael mentioned. The mystery in his answers.

"That news shall come soon enough."

He was curious, though Talon shrugged it off as a wish to hear Talon's tales. In fact, Talon decided that this may very well be the chance to speak up. "Yes, yes, of course. I am well - as in, I haven't been hunted, possessed, or attacked lately. The students are keeping well. I got a couple baby hawks for my birthday - they're a menace, honestly. But I'm putting up with them, and young Master Hawkins has been helping me with them...but..."

Talon's eyes flashed suddenly, and he nodded his head. "You told right. I did not hunt you all over the place for friendly conversation, though I'm sure now that I've found you we could often do that later if you wish. Azrael, I came, because I needed your help. Three days ago I came upon a disturbing sight - the Great Hall of the School completely mauled. Those who viewed its destruction say that it was caused by a crazed Lycan. The markings on the wall indicate a Lycan as well...but there is one thing that I do not understand. There was writing on the Heads' Table, written in blood...it said...'Angelus Morti.'

"Angel of Death in Latin. I figure this Lycan, Angel of Death or no, cannot go unnoticed. That's why I've come to you, Azrael. You are still, even now, the Leader of the Cabal. If you resummon them, we can fight back against this Lycan! What say you, Azrael?"

[Lord Azrael]

Azrael listened patiently to Talon’s idle banter, feigning an expression of mild interest so not to offend the professor, inwardly wishing for him to get to the point of his visit.

“What say you, Azrael?”

“What say I indeed!” he exclaimed, and it was clear once more that he had been angered yet sought not to control the harshness in his voice when he spoke, “What is the school come to, that it cannot even defend itself from a single lycan? What are lycans but flea-bitten cur, wandering in their forests of deep within their caves, sleeping with vermin and all manner of vile creatures that dwell in the wild, untamed places of the world. Does the school not possess enough strength in it’s students to fight such a menace? Can it not fend for itself?”

Reigning in his anger, his voice was now full of contempt as he continued on, “Why not go to Claire for your petty troubles? Is she not the headmistress of your school? Does she not even possess the power to defend her own students; her own responsibility; her own self? Or perhaps you have already gone to her and she turned you down, having more pressing obligations. For example, her own comfort and convenience.”

Opening his hand slightly, which he had clenched into a fist while he spoke; to the point where the fine red traces of where his nails had bitten into his flesh were apparent. He stared at his palm for several long moments, an almost disgusted look on his face, before turning back to Talon. “Even so, you know as well as I do that I always look out for the greater good of the school, yet for some time it has been plain to me that what is best for the school cannot be found with Claire. I see more clearly now that only I can bring security and peace to the school, along with my new Cabal. I can see in our future a freedom from conflict; no more war, no more death.” he continued, speaking now as one speaks to an old and dear friend.

“You could help me; be at my side once again. You would go down into history book, known as the hero who delivered the school into a new era, the likeness of which was never before seen. It would be wise indeed, to follow me.”

“I ask you now, as you asked me; what say you, Professor Talon Aquilo
Windwaltz?”

[Professor Windwaltz]

From first the ex-Professor opened his mouth, Talon could tell that he had infuriated him. Anyone could tell that, for he was certainly not hiding it. Fury rode every last one of his words, and a hidden malice lied behind clenched fists. Though Talon was oft one to argue, and would gladly've fought back at many of the things Azrael accused, he found himself stunned at Azrael's wrath. Talon closed his eyes and listened impatiently for Azrael to finish his speech. When at last Azrael finished, he echoed the same words that Talon gave him. Now it was time for Talon to strike back.

"What say I? What do I have to say that I did not already say? I am not a fool, and it would be most unwise - far more unwise than even the most foolish of students - to ever consider me a weakling. But I am but one man, Azrael, and though this Lycan is one, he symbolizes an army. Lycans are not ones to fight alone - they fight in packs...either packs of others Lycans, or a group all joined for one purpose. I may be powerful - if I were arrogant enough, I would say powerful enough to stop this Lycan's army alone. But I am not arrogant enough, and I cannot defeat this Lycan alone. That's why I need allies, and Azrael, you are the only ally I can consider." Talon's violet, practically begging eyes stared into Azrael's, though he knew he was but putting off the question Azrael had given him.

Indeed Talon noted every single change in Azrael's voice to his great suspicion. Azrael and Talon, though both men who stood side by side in war and shared many things in common, had not truly bonded long. And Azrael spoke to Talon, his very voice like honey, as if Azrael and Talon had been like brothers. Talon's eyes flashed at this, though Azrael's words sunk into Talon. Sunk into a place far too deep. Indeed, Talon was forgetting all sense and listening only to what Azrael said. It was if Azrael kept him in a hypnotic bond.

"Perhaps it would be wise..." said Talon, still in his hypnotic trance. "But..." His dreamy voice returned to its natural one. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I have my own issues with Claire - I don't relatively like her, nor did I ever actually like her, nor do I ever see myself liking her anytime soon...but what does that have to do with this situation? Are you saying you've created a new Cabal? I see little that I nor anyone could go down in history for. I am simply in need of help in defending the school against a rogue Lycan and his allies..."

With an inquisitive tone, Talon uttered one last sentence. "Perhaps I will stand by you. But first you must explain what you are truly fighting...and what I, or Claire, have to do with it."

[Lord Azrael]

"Trust me, old friend, both you and Claire have everything to do with this. Although I thought you might have come to this conclusion yourself, it seems I might have to make things a bit more apparent for you to understand my intentions. You see, my thoughts are ever with the school and it's best interests. I would do anything and everything it takes to make all in the school as it should be. I had assumed you knew of this before now, at least since the Danawi incident."

"Although it pains me greatly to think of the immediate turmoil and agony that would be inflicted by the uprooting of Claire, it must be done. Yet the tendrils of her corruption run deep, and when at long last she was put in her place, we would need a strong leader to unify the school once more. We must have a noble and mighty leader to head the school, much like the legendary Agiel Firefox of ages past.”

That name threw forth now, playing a dangerous yet powerful hand. He knew his aim was true and his words would find their mark; yet whether they could pierce deeply enough to sway a new ally was yet to be seen.

“You see,” he continued on, not letting up for even a moment, “I imagine a fitting leader could be found, one to become immortalized in your history books. Perhaps myself. Or perhaps even you. What would you think of that? Would you like to be able to address yourself as ‘Headmaster Windwaltz’ as opposed to a simple professor? I ask only that you join me in my quest for the greater good of the school. Help me fight the evil of Claire and anyone else who would dare to challenge our righteous cause. Be the next Agiel, in your own manner. Give the school what it truly deserves; a worthy Headmaster.” It was the most simple of tools that Azrael used to his advantage. Greed and ambition he now took into account, trying to fill the professor’s head with delusions of grandeur while at the same time drawing his attention to Claire and playing off animosity towards her as opposed to taking into account the true threat he had come seeking aid for.

[Professor Windwaltz]

Azrael's first words drew Talon's curious attention, but the true clench was on Azrael's new statements. Indeed Azrael's new words worried Talon - an uprooting of Claire? Had Azrael gone mad? But then Azrael brought to mind something that even Talon had been contemplating. Indeed the days of Claire were hardly a shadow of the days of his Lord and Hero, Agiel Firefox. In those days it was a Golden Age of War and Peace, and legends. Heroes walked among regular students. The History was the Day. And even when War came to its doors, Claire was slow to respond - indeed, hardly coming to the doors. She would hide, locked in her tower in fear, as true heroes would ride forth to save the school they loved...

And what reward would she give them? In Talon's case, no glory whatsoever. In Azrael's case - expulsion. Indeed, Talon had thought much of it during the Danawi situation, and - when thought over even longer - long before so. Indeed, it had been on Talon's mind since he first stepped into the school in his young age. Agiel Firefox needed to rise again - but not as Agiel - as Talon himself. Talon felt it in his bones since he first heard the tale from Meriel's lips, that his destiny was to become Agiel Firefox and deliver the school from evil once more. Though at first filled with worry and even concern out of madness, Azrael's words became more and more clear...what evil was there? If Talon was there, had been summoned back to the school after graduation, indeed his destiny would still have to happen. Indeed there was still an evil that plagued the school - and what evil had been there throughout Talon's school years and even now? He could see nothing else but the corruption of Claire.

'Aye,' Talon thought to himself, 'What is Claire, but a coward and a fool, undeserving of power? That is all she ever was....' It was a new side of Talon speaking. The side of Talon that was suppressed for many long years. Azrael's words rung throughout his brain. 'Headmaster Windwaltz.' A half smile appeared on Talon's face. A greedy smile. His violet eyes flickered with new ambition. Indeed, a dark aura caused by his own lightning seemed to surround him. Suddenly, a cry of Phoenix song burst through the aura. 'Talon! No you fool! You are being consumed by Azrael! He's gone mad!' There was no Talon to listen. Talon was too far gone in a strange, otherwordly trance.

Talon was walking down a hallway that he knew well, yet could not recognize instantly. Though he did not look upon himself, he knew what he wore - his robes were not shabby and ruined, but bright and royal. Dark purple were they, a symbol of powerful regality. Black were the clothes he wore beneath, and around his neck was swung a medallion - a symbol of a Headmaster. As he wandered the halls in spectacle, he came upon the precipice that led out toward the Head's Tower. It opened immediately before him, but then he heard a cry from behind.

"Windwaltz!" came the cry, and Talon turned, recognizing the voice immediately. "Aylen!" Talon cried to the boy, but the boy did not seem to hear. Indeed the boy was Aylen Hawkins, though he looked older, and much more battleworn. His red hair was matted and long, and his eyes were glazed and jaded - he was no longer the happy boy that Talon the Professor knew. "So Hawkins, once more you disturb my peaceful school. I have expelled you many times over - you are not welcome here." Aylen scoffed at him. "Your school, your school! This is not your school - this is Azrael's school! You are a pawn! Don't you see? Don't you see?" Talon gazed at the redhead. "Azrael's school? Of course. But it is my school as well. Azrael helped me - it is only natural he be given power. But I am the powerful one here - I am Agiel." Aylen cried out, rushing towards the Professor. "Agiel! No! You are Josh!" Talon drew his wand in anger, but Aylen was too quick, blocking the minor spell that Talon threw with his own. "What did you call me, boy?" Talon said, his voice embittered with uncharacteristic anger.

"I called you...Josh. Remember that class? That second class you had? The last class you ever had as yourself? We read that story about the Traitor, the Traitor who turned against the Headmistress and took control - who thought he was eternally loved and a hero but was really hated by all...that's you. That's you now. I used to look up to you, I thought you were not only my teacher, but my friend. I'll never forget that day. That day you came back from looking for Azrael. You came with him, and with that wolf too. And the Demon...you came with them all. There was no army - no need to have one, we had no idea what you were planning to do. You went to the Head's Tower and you..." At this, his head notioned to the top of the Head's Tower. Where once there was a top - where the original Head's Chamber was, there was nothing remaining but a huge mark of a lightning strike. It was still singed, as if it were forever burned. "You killed her. And you told everyone that it was natural. You took power for yourself and Azrael...and you changed entirely."

Talon looked angry, bitterly angry. "It was natural. I did nothing that day." Aylen held his wand in an even more hostile motion. "Lies! All lies! You killed her with your lightning magic!" Aylen charged at Talon, his wand stretched forward. "And I'll kill you too! Avada Kedavra!" Talon seemed to melt before the green light, and reappear to his right. "I'm afraid you mean...I killed her...just like I'll kill you. Too long have you troubled my peaceful school where I am ruler, making up lies to make me seem bad. I would once have been sad to see you die...Fulmina!" In a flash of purple light, and an ululating scream, the image disappeared.

Talon looked up at Azrael once more, his dark aura gone and the devil in his eyes forgotten. "I will not help you destroy Claire. I will not help you make a Devil out of me. Your will is naught but madness Azrael, and I realize - if I am to be Agiel, it will not be to stop Claire, it will be stop you. You may have reasons to attack her - you may even be right about your own idea of the school needing a better Headmaster. But by some twist of fate, some strange destiny, I have looked into your far Seeing eyes and I have seen naught but evil. You are a traitor, Azrael. A traitor to your loyalties, for the side of your own ambition."

[Lord Azrael]

His hand had failed, his trump card had failed the moment Talon had called his bluff, the name of Agiel no longer giving him an edge. Azrael could see his fragile plot shattering before his eyes, the broken shards slipping between his fingers. He could not fight Talon, of this he was certain. He was not good for any form of direct battle and the powerful lightning mage would most certainly make short work of him should it come to blows. It seemed for a moment that there was little he could do to save the school from it’s own corruption, if it had pierced this deeply.

“So, you will not join me,” Azrael said, his head lowered as if in defeat, his hands thrust gloomily into the pockets of his robes, “After all I offered for you, you still side with Claire. Perhaps you do indeed side with her, believing self-sacrifice to great a price to pay for peace and prosperity. Perhaps all hope to better the school and make it a worthy place to go one more is lost. Perhaps all have strayed from the path of glory as you so clearly have, Professor Windwaltz.” he spoke, emphasizing the more formal way or addressing to Talon, ceasing to refer to him as though they were friends. He now felt a fury raising within himself. He would not let his careful plotting go to waste, no petty professor would take that away from him. He would clench his fist against this failure, refusing to let his plot fail and slip forever from his grasp.

“I wonder,” began Azrael once more as though hit by a sudden inspiration, raising his head once more, a look of slight insanity marring his features; deep within his robes his hand gripped his wand tightly, “If all are so corrupted that they do not see the error of their ways, might it be possible that everyone at the school might be the enemy? All opposition must be taken care of. ‘Removed’, so to speak. At this point, I wonder if there is enough good left in the school worth saving. What if it were possible to remove every last one of the wicked from Magic Horizons; to start anew, so to speak. There would be those who survive, of course; chosen from only those who see the light and repent for their innumerable sins against the peace I seek to build, even if I must be at the expense of a lifeless mound of bodies of former students, all saved from themselves by none other than myself. For to allow them to live on and continue their sinful ways would be an atrocity to mankind in itself, especially when I hold the power to deliver them from the evils they have brought down upon their own heads.”

“It is tragic that you choose a dark path; for by aiding me you would have been a hero, yet by refusing my aid you have made yourself into the very demon you claim you wished to avoid becoming,” he said solemnly, a cold calm descending in his voice, “I am afraid that you have shown yourself to be an enemy of the school and thus, like every other force that opposes the school, you must fall. Tragic, the way our meeting has gone, yet fortunate in the fact that it has made clear the me the final solution that must be undertaken if I am truly to save the school.”

“I would apologize, for what must be done, yet it is a fate you have brought upon yourself. You and me both know, or at least I suspect why you have not attacked me; though the evil way you follow might dictate it for the best. You wish for me to make the first move, do you not? To be able to slay me and say it was only in self defense? You wish to make yourself into one of the fools from your little books. It amuses me, how you cling so tightly to your history books and legends of petty warriors long rotted away to nothing, yet I wonder what your own past is like? I wonder what demons you house in the deep corners of your mind. What deep, dark secrets you withhold from the world and quite possibly yourself. I will admit, I know little of your past yet I doubt I need know much, for there is one way I might find out.”

In a swift movement, showing forth his skill acquired from years of practice in dueling, he drew forth his wand and pointed it at Talon. “Spiriti Memoriarum,” he said, in a voice little over a whisper, keeping his wand trained at Talon as he fell back towards the safety of the nearest tomb, in case Talon had reacted in the time between when he first started to cast the spell and when it had actually begun to take it’s effect upon him.

“May the demons of your past crush your mind and ravage your body, leaving your evil intentions unable to stop me as I purge this school. When I am done, perhaps I will give you one last chance to repent, before you too shall be sent to whatever hell you choose to believe in, victim to your own misguided decisions.”

[Professor Windwaltz]

Though Talon could sense Azrael's hostility, he did not once draw his wand in battle. Though Azrael's madness grew thicker and thicker, until it obviously consumed him, his words meant nothing to the Professor. Indeed, the friendship he had once extended to Azrael had now turned to utmost caution. The Lightning Mage had no idea of Azrael's true power, and, for that matter, he had no intention of 'slaying' Azrael. He gave no utterance of a word. His violet eyes simply kept their mark upon Azrael's face - lined with insanity. It was at last, when Azrael mentioned 'petty warriors in rotten books', did Talon's hand clench angrily about his wand. Still, the side that had overcame the Devil kept its maintenence. Talon had almost fallen for Azrael's bluff last time - who knew what this time would come to?

Talon's caution turned to curiosity at Azrael's last words. It was when Talon went to open his mouth in retaliation, that he realized why he had failed to speak before. His mouth was hardened and dry. "How-" Talon uttered, breaking the dry of his mouth, "How do you plan do to that, Azrael?" He said again, trying desperately to mix confidence into his dread. Though when Talon looked upon Azrael again, he seemed unphased. As if Talon had never spoken at all. "How do you plan to do that Azrael...?" No sign of speaking. "HOW DO YOU PLAN TO -"

"Spiriti Memoriarum."

It was said in a tone like a whisper, but in Talon's mind it was roared all across Britain and beyond. It echoed, blocking out Azrael's next words, as if it were a silent film, and as his mouth moved the spell replaced the scratching of the film. Talon closed his eyes as the sound became louder and louder, changing from Azrael's voice to a long wail. A wail of torment and suffering. When Talon opened his eyes, Azrael was gone, and standing in front of him was...

"Mother?" Talon said in shock. Standing in front of him was none other than Miranda Earthlover. Around him was not the Graveyard but a stone parapet as if on a vast tower. His Mother seemed just as beautiful as he remembered her, though she was round in the stomach, not at all from fat but from pregnancy. Next to her on the parapet was not Sciezen Windwaltz, her husband, but a strange other man. He looked like the spitting image of Talon himself - or at least how Talon looked before his lightning magic mutated him - and dressed in a green garb. Among the green gown was silver markings, and Miranda dressed in similar garb. "What is it, Miranda?" asked the man in a deep voice. "I wanted to tell you...the child, he's..." "He? So you and Sciezen know it is a he?" "Do not mention Sciezen!" The man in green garb seemed as shocked as Talon by this. "Why not?" "Because...because it's..." "Because it's what?" "I came to you tonight to tell you..." "What Miranda?" But the next sentence was faded out by the sound of Azrael's voice again, reciting the spell. "Tell him what? Tell him what, Mother?" Talon repeated, though he knew they couldn't hear him. Both were standing and talking still, and Miranda collapsed into the man's arms, but the silent film effect had taken hold again. "Tell him what!?" Talon, in anguish, charged towards the image of his mother but she melted on contact. The man was no longer there - nor was the stone parapet.

He was now in a deep forest. A forest that Talon remembered well. It had been where his whole world shattered - this was the very forest where his parents died. Before him was his Mother again, but standing next to her was, to Talon's surprise, not his Father. He was again replaced by the image of the blond haired man. They stood together in front of a large stone cave, and steam oozed out from within as if the entire inside was on fire. "Miranda, are you ready?" The man asked her calmly. "Better now than ever," she laughed. Talon could not bear to watch. He knew his Mother was to die soon - but what of the man? He didn't even know that there had been a third on the mission to defeat the Dragon. Would he die too? And what of his Father? The two entered the cavern, but the ground seemed to pull him towards it as well. Though the cave would realistically be dark, he could see everything.

Within was a mighty, white silver dragon. Her eyes shone with sentient fury - and wisdom far beyond any mortal being. In fact, one could simply be stunned, if they could actually see it. Talon could only see it in the smallest way - as a cat sees in the dark of night to hunt. He could see that his Mother and the man could not see her at all. Talon reluctantly followed them, being pushed by the ground deeper to the Dragon's teeth. The ground had pushed Talon finally to the Dragon's teeth itself, and Talon felt the steam upon his stomach as if an oven, yet his body suffered no flaws - simply pain. Talon watched as the two hunters came upon the Dragon at last - and then all melted once more.

When Talon came back, he was back in the clearing outside the Cave. Steam no longer came from within, but an army of demonoids - short green creatures that marched in an order to the like of ants - spilled out in replacement. Before the cave, standing like three surfers before a mighty wave, were his Mother, the blond haired man, and to his small relief, his Father. The three charged towards the demons...and then, once more, it melted away...all away...and Talon knew not more...

His eyes cleared to his happiness...and he saw the Graveyard! But the Graveyard was not the same place where Talon hd stood but moments before. It was in a different section...before a grand Mausoleum. As Talon's eyes darted down to the stairs, an icy cold fear came upon him. The greatest fear that he could imagine. Nothing he had seen in this experience could bring him to this - Saria. The old Vampiress whom Talon had once befriended...and murdered.

"Saria?" Talon said in shock, his violet eyes dulling over. She gave no movement, no sign of understanding him, but a deep frown that graced her pale face. A deep frown of utter hatred - disappointment - and at most, hidden fear. 'Talon, Talon...' said the voice, but it came more than twice. It echoed in Talon's ears with Azrael's incantation, like they were both creating an insanity inducing song. "What? What Saria?" 'You killed me...I was your friend...why?' Why. Why. Why. Why. Why. The word echoed with the other words. Talon could hardly hear her very voice, the music seemed to pound in his ears. 'I think I loved you. Was it so wrong to love a Vampire? Is that why you killed me?' Azrael's voice seemed to echo above it. "It is tragic that you choose a dark path; for by aiding me you would have been a hero, yet by refusing my aid you have made yourself into the very demon you claim you wished to avoid becoming..." This was not a song, but a brief flash. Indeed it occured to Talon that Azrael was the master of this phantom. While Azrael had 'entertained' Talon with images of the past, he searched through his memory for the perfect vice.

Before Talon could see, he was now lying backwards, staring up at a stone wall. His head was on Saria's lap, and all the other songs disappeared to the one melody of her voice. 'I gave you death. You gave me death. I freed you, you freed me. I hate you not, you hate me not...come Talon...come...I'm here now. You're here now. Let your mind be free...' Talon's lightning aura disappeared, his spiky hair smoothing with each of Saria's touches, returning to his original straw-like hair. His eyes were sky blue once more, though they stared at naught but the stone. 'You should fear no more...fear no more...wake no more...you are very tired...go to sleep...'

Go to sleep...go...to...sleep.

Talon's eyes shut like stone seplechurs, never to be opened again. His breathing slowed, but did not stop. The image of Saria disappeared. His wand was astray at his side, and his body was placed in burial position apon a funeral table. Azrael's will had won over Talon - if not to gain an ally, then to put an enemy out of the way.

Magic Horizons would have no valiant lightning mage now.

[Lord Azrael]

Azrael bore silent witness to Talon’s mental torment, tribute to the mighty warrior he had been before Talon had begun his fall to darkness. Yet there was another reason, more objective than the first, for why he now stood by the side of his former friend, after he had been condemned to eternal sleep until Azrael’s spell be dispelled or his body be broken. Reaching to the slumbering Professor’s side, he silently snatched his wand from it’s place, pocketing it to keep as his own. Now his own wand had company; soon to have even more, he reckoned; should his plans further without delay.

Now on the thought of what lay ahead for him, Azrael turned and began to stride from Talon’s tomb, aware of the weight of the new wand in his pocket; feeling more like a grave robber for the briefest of moments instead of the noble liberator he knew himself to be. Shaking of the ridiculous notion almost at once, he continued on out the door, snapping his wand out as he made his exit and causing the great stone doors to slam shut with a curt gesture of his wand.

Continuing away from the vast mausoleum; the one he would now use for his main base of operations for his holy cause, he headed for the entrance to the graveyard. His minion should be here soon; and bringing him a nice little present should fate smile upon him. A new companion, perhaps, so Talon wouldn’t be so very lonely anymore. Once that was finished he would be off to see to some very important business that simply couldn’t wait.

[Fenris Fenrir]

Standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest; the first servant of Angelus Morti watched the general area of the school's graveyard while awaiting his master's sign. The Master had bidden that the servant attack the school; the servant attacked not once; but thrice. The Master wanted the servant to cause havoc and chaos; the servant inflicted injury. The Master wanted that professor; the servant had her. The tall servant had accomplished all that his Master had bidden and more. Now he began the long watch of the Graveyard, for the Master had bidden him to wait until a certain "business" was taken care of. And Fenris Fenrir would wait without complaint.

The lycan's black clothing helped him melt into the black abyss of night and made for perfect clothing to wear in the Forest at such hours. Yet clothing was pointless for it was stripped from his body whenever he switched forms. Yes; clothing was pointless, yet he carried something more valuable than mere cloth. Amy Stevens, current Divinations Professor of Magical Horizons had a point and much greater purpose. Fenris didn't know the full extent of his Master's desires over Stevens; but he did know that his Master was a tamer of words; a manipulator of minds and souls. Perhaps that was how he had gotten Fenris to come to the banner of Angelus Morti in the first place, or perhaps he had meant what he told the lycan; that Fenrir was needed to have such a plan succeed and that what the Master promised to come to pass for the Future would be true. Those codes that human organizations made to restricted the lycans; they would be cast down if Fenris Fenrir served the Master willingly and such a reward was too tempting for the Lord of the Hunt to deny for himself and others of his kind.

Yet now his attention turned to the burden that he carried over his shoulder; the prize that Angelus Morti desired greatly. The one that was used to replace him from a world that meant nothing to him any longer; a world that he had asked Fenris to help him turn to nothingness. Professor Stevens. Dried blood from when Fenris had first attacked her still clung to her clothing and her body, yet it did nothing to her beauty. Why was it that with females; one could do anything to them and yet in the end the females would still remain beautiful? Pushing away such primitive thoughts, Fenrir could not help but take one last glimpse at the blue-haired professor before letting his gaze return to the Graveyard.

And then came the signal; the one that the Master told him to listen for. In his mind; Fenris heard a scream of such minuscule volume that it hurt himself to be able to hear it and then the scream rose to a high-pitched wail of agony and yet there was something else to it that the raven-haired lycan couldn't place. But then came the long silence that followed afterward. His time had come and Fenris started to make his way to the Graveyard with a feral grin etched on his face. For the sign meant only one thing; the Lightening Mage had fallen in slumber.

The heavy fall and rise of Fenrir's footsteps echoed throughout the night; startling any small creature that dared to cross his path. Checking on his prisoner once more to make sure that she was still intact; Fenrir quickened his pace and in about 30 minutes time; he neared the entrance of the Graveyard. And at the entrance awaited his Master; Angelus Morti; The Angel of Death.

Azrael.

Once Fenrir reached his master, he knelt down on one knee so that he wasn't taller than the human; a sign of respect that Fenris only gave to few. And there he stayed with his eyes averted to the ground and said in a voice that sounded like a feral snarl, "What is your bidding, my Master? Your servant comes bearing what he was bidden to make his burden; what task do you have now for your servant. For I long to assault the school and sink my teeth into the flesh of the Human youths; I wanted to bath in their blood; I want to feel their suffering Azrael. When does your servant begin to unleash such a terror on the school that it has never experienced before? When am I allowed to shape the future as you have planned it; Master?"

[amy]

Extreme pain.

It was the first thing that flushed through Amy, attacked every inch of her being, both soul and body, as she regained conciousness. Her head, her throat, her arms, her hands...everything ached with a pain she had felt numerous times before, but she had never been able to grow accustomed to. After the initial wave passed, the most excrutiating bit that one felt when they woke after receiving a hefty beating, Amy's memory kicked into gear. Her mind was flooded with images of a black haired man, cold eyes framed with rectangular glasses as he led her outside her comfort zone, unaware, so completely trusting...

Amy mentally kicked herself. How could she have been so stupid, so foolish, as to walk outside with this strange man so willingly, without asking enough initial questions? And not even fighting back? Her head swimmed with self-disappointment. And then she remembered the way he had held her throat, how vulnerable she had been, how she had asked for mercy...

The cover she had been hiding behind since she had received her new job, that of an old-yet-young, innocent-yet-wise teacher that any student could talk to and get along with melted. She was seventeen, a young woman, still dying her hair and hanging out with friends as if life were never to come. And she was pissed. Completely furious with this man who had taken advantage of her, of her kindness and her semblance of innocence, and hurt her like that. And God only knew what he had done to her students...

And just like that, she was filled with dread. Her students. She had let them down as well. She prayed to anyone that they had defended themselves against this beast, had saved each other from major injury and made it through okay. Because if someone had suffered, if someone had died because of her idiocy, she wasn't sure she could handle that.

Amy was careful not to move, to stay completely still. She didn't want them to know that she was concious yet, to know that she heard everything. Just as she started to remember the green-haired demon who had watched as she'd been strangled, she heard the black-haired man say something, to someone he called his Master. This struck her as strange, because people like this man didn't usually take orders from other people. She could sense that there were others there, at least two. She contemplated screaming, but thought against it. Those in the vicinity probably wouldn't have moved to help her in the least.

[Lord Azrael]

“Splendid work as always, noble lord of the forest,” Azrael said, bowing slightly to Fenrir, returning his show of respect. Much as he hated showing any such gesture of respect to such a loathsome beast that all lycan kind were, he was not about to alienate such a valuable, not to mention potentially dangerous, ally. Especially when he so willingly gave himself to Azrael’s righteous cause.

“As for your questions, there is but one answer. We must have patience. All is falling into place, for if the school had even an ounce of strength and the administration weren’t tainted to the core they would easily be able to drive back a single lycan, mighty as he is. Yet it is clear they are unable to do this, thus my task seems not so daunting as it might have been.”

“Then again,” Azrael continued after a moment of thoughtful silence, “I do suppose I could find a perfect meal for one such as yourself. The child named Hayzie; a Gryffindor student, who also happens to be one of their prefects. I do believe she once aided me in my Cabal Resistance, yet I do not doubt she has since changed her allegiance to the path of darkness trod by Claire and her followers. I want her to accompany my most recent prisoner in eternal slumber, for it would be dreadful to leave him all alone, now wouldn’t it?”

“As for our newest guest,” Azrael said as he gestured to the professor Fenrir carried with him, “Do set her down, for I daresay that continuing carrying her around like a mere piece of luggage would not be the most gentlemanly thing to do, now would it? I do believe she might be nothing more than a victim in this entire ordeal, like so many others. Relieve her of her wand, to be certain, and give it to me. I shall have to see if I cannot talk some sense into her and show her who the true heroes and villains are in this ordeal.”

Azrael drew out Talon’s wand and held it towards Fenrir, “Take this, and show it to the prefect. I think it might give her some insight as to the wisest choice of actions; then give her the chance to accompany you willingly. If she refuses, then you may, of course, have your bit of fun with her. In the meantime, I shall stay here for a while and wait for our guest to awaken.”