Sailormoon, its characters, struggles and story, are the copyright 
and children of Naoko Takeuchi. No recognition to this tale can be 
given without properly paying honour to her first. They are 
rightfully hers and I respect how she has raised them all. May what 
I have written here, the dark and the light, be considered worthy 
as a token of my appreciation for the world she has created.


His lordship Chaos / Angel Electric 
07 - The Secrets & The Shadows

Rated PG13.


*****

The sun goes up and the sun goes down
I drag myself into the town
All I do 
I want to do with you

	--The Servants, "Cells"

*****


	When you think of a world, do you imagine one made only of 
earth and water and air? Does a world need such things in order to 
be called so?
	The universe is far more wondrous and terrifying than that.
	One such world existed where no others could, brought to life 
by the will and power of the only being who could call it her 
kingdom, her domain. Upon the frozen desolation of a comet, upon 
the very pinnacle of its icy core, was a dais that gave her an 
unparalleled view of the galaxy her comet was passing by.
	She sat upon a throne of snow, atop a flight of stairs forged 
in ice, and she herself was forged of the same infernal materials. 
Her elegant body was smooth and blue, almost like glass, and her 
gown able to shift like silk or snow, though it appeared as solid 
as ice. And she was following after a meal. Her kingdom, her comet, 
journeyed from system to system in search of what she craved, in 
search of what she needed to consume.  
	Some might devour meat in order to live.
	Others might devour energy.
	She devoured heat. 
	One day a brilliant astronomer would give her a name: Kaguya. 
For now, she was empress of her world, a lone queen of the snow. 
And she was growing hungry. For years she had been following the 
heat of something she had never before felt: a warmth unlike any 
other. The trail had led her through systems that were blazing with 
light, and through systems that had no shine to them at all. She 
traveled the stars, chasing after a warmth that might satisfy her 
for centuries to come. 
	The Snow Queen was smiling as she anticipated the glory of 
her feast. She could sense that she was drawing closer as her comet 
passed by a small, lifeless planet. When she found the world 
bearing such heat, she would cover it in beautiful ice and suck the 
very warmth from its source. 
	But then something very unexpected happened.
	She found herself in the presence of a visitor.
	Beryl stood before the Snow Queen's throne of snow and ice. 
Beryl herself was but a projection, an illusion, appearing like a 
ghost who was only half there. No matter the form she took, the 
Snow Queen did not take well to the intrusion.
	She drew herself up and regarded Beryl with great disdain. 
"And who," she demanded, "are you to come before my throne 
unannounced?"
	Her bravado made Beryl's mouth curl into a sneer. "And who 
are you to come into my domain unannounced?" 
	The unpleasant surprise in the Snow Queen's eyes melted into 
comprehension. She suddenly viewed Beryl with a little more 
respect, though it was the way a creature of darkness respects one 
of its own kin.
	"So," she stated, "You are the one who controls this system."
	"Not yet," Beryl replied. "And even then...it won't be me."
	The Snow Queen scowled at such cryptic remarks and ciphers. 
She knew of ice, and she knew of fire, and she knew of the wars 
that were waged whenever the two collided. But she did not 
understand Beryl.
	"You would do well to turn aside and leave this system," 
Beryl told her. "Stay upon this course, and by my hand or 
another's, you will be lucky if you survive."
	Such threats the Snow Queen had heard before, and they all 
ended with babbling cries and sobs for mercy before she swallowed 
them up in ice. That such a woman could show such audacity to utter 
these threats so easily; it made the Snow Queen ball one of her 
hands into a fist.
	"You cannot stop me," she stated.
	"You say such things, and yet you don't even know me," Beryl 
evenly replied. "I will see you destroyed should you continue to 
draw closer. I will take that vision you have, and fling it into 
the remote darkness of space."
	The Snow Queen had encountered inhabitants of the worlds 
she'd devoured in the past, but they had all been the same. They 
would protest and fight, and in the end freeze. And she would feast 
upon their heat. But the red-haired woman standing before her was 
wholly different. This was no mere inhabitant squawking in the 
hopes of scaring her away. Here stood someone who exuded power by 
simply breathing.
	The Snow Queen was quick to take Beryl very seriously.
	"What would you know of my vision?" she said.
	Beryl gave dismissive glances to her left and right. "If this 
ball of ice you call your kingdom is any indication, I'd say 
someone would either have to be blind or an idiot to have not the 
slightest idea what you've got in mind."
	"And what are you going to do?" sneered the Snow Queen. "Stop 
me?"
	"Not yet," Beryl said, and shook her head. With a knowing 
smile she glanced elsewhere, as if she were looking at something 
else, something her true self saw. "It's in my better interests 
that certain parties remain unaware of me. At least for the time 
being."
	The Snow Queen scowled once more, and straightened herself up 
in her throne. Her shadow swept over Beryl. Beryl remained 
undaunted, even as the Snow Queen's lips were curled back, 
revealing fangs forged of icicles.
	"So bold," the Snow Queen said, "and yet you cower within the 
shadows. I ride the winds of space and the stars, and those who 
fall frozen before me know of my greatness. What could they ever 
know of you," the Snow Queen flashed Beryl an acrid smile, "Shadow 
Lady?"
	If Beryl took any offense at the Snow Queen's blatant insult, 
she showed no signs of agitation. Her smirk did not fade, and 
though one of her eyebrows arched up, it made her look more amused 
than angered.
	"Do you know what separates the greatest of conquerors from 
the loudest of fools?" she asked.
	The Snow Queen scowled, at a loss for any sort of answer.
	That made Beryl smile. "Patience," she stated, and turned to 
walk away from the Snow Queen. "When you suffer failure and cry out 
into the darkness, you will remember my words."
	An explosion of snow roared at Beryl's back. She paused and 
glanced over her shoulder. The Snow Queen was now standing, her 
eyes wide in fury, her once pristine, shimmering hair flowing 
wildly around her as a snowstorm tried to devour Beryl. Being only 
a projection, the Beryl standing upon the comet smiled at the 
storm's futility.
	"I," boomed the Snow Queen's voice, "DO NOT FAIL!"
	The intensity of the storm lessened, but still threatened to 
consume whatever it could find of Beryl. The Snow Queen began to 
descend down the steps before her throne. "I will take your world," 
she told Beryl, "and then I will see you frozen forever in the 
floor at the foot of my throne, so that I can gaze upon the 
helpless eyes and tongue that dared to defy me."
	Beryl's lips pursed into a thin, malevolent smile.
	"I would very much," she whispered, "like to see you try."




			Are you dancing?


			 ANGEL ELECTRIC




	The Hall of Antiquity was silent, as it always was, and as 
empty as it always seemed to be. The only footsteps Jadeite ever 
seemed to hear were his own. There were moments where the silence 
was overpowering; it made him shiver, made him terrified to be 
alone with the whispers in his mind. But he also knew that it was 
better that he was alone. Alone, he could do what was needed 
without interruption, without the concern of prying eyes falling 
upon him.
	Jadeite stood before another piece of ancient art, as 
motionless as any of the other statues around him: unmoving, 
unblinking and fixated upon something else. The Progenitor stood 
elsewhere, silent and unsettling. This work of art was something 
new, and something altogether more frightening. Jadeite heard the 
dull roar that sent prickles down his spine and along his arms. 
	It was stirring once again.
	Countless times in the past, those echoes had begun to stir 
under his careful prodding and caressing. The darkness grew 
suspicious easily, and by all indications, did not play well with 
others. But the more he stood before the painting and came to know 
its echoes, the more the darkness came to think he was a part of 
it, the quicker it was for it to begin to whisper to him.
	He strained to hear, to let it betray some secret.
	The painting abruptly went silent, and Jadeite muttered under 
his breath as he heard the sound of footfalls disturbing the eerie 
quiet of the hall. He did not have to turn around and look behind 
him to see who was paying him a visit. His sessions in the Hall of 
Antiquity had served to enhance his memory and senses. He could 
smell the fragrances upon her skin, a unique combination not shared 
by anyone else he had come into contact with before. 
	"Hello, Michiru," Jadeite said in Lunarian. His satisfaction 
in being right was marred by how close he had been to finding the 
echoes, only to have her let them elude his grasp once again.
	Michiru drew up beside him, and they both stared at the 
painting.
	"You have decided to refrain from attending tonight's 
masque," she said.
	"The same can be said of you," Jadeite replied.
	Michiru flashed him a coy smile. "My appearances there are 
not as required as yours."
 	Now that did amuse him. Jadeite tried not to smirk. "I would 
have thought," he said, and turned towards Michiru, "that if you 
were not at the masque, you would be with Haruka. She seems like 
more amicable company than me."
	Michiru's tone grew sharp. "Are you insulting our 
relationship?"
	"No," he answered evenly. "I'm asking why you're here."
	Michiru's gaze moved to the painting Jadeite had spent 
countless hours watching, where vivid colours showed the 
destruction of Neptune. People ran and screamed and reached in vain 
for loved ones as a dark cloud with a cackling mouth leveled a 
palace. In the foreground, hybrids of a grotesque nature killed and 
slaughtered all who stood before them.
	She looked disturbed by the painting. Jadeite wondered if it 
was because of the gruesome images, or because it showed the 
annihilation of her homeworld.
	"A man marvels at a work of art for hours on end, and he is 
called a connoisseur," she said. "That same man marvels at a work 
of art for days on end, and he is obsessed."
	"Is there a lesson in all this?" Jadeite asked her.
	"No good can come of obsession."
	He glanced at her. "Do you speak from personal experience?"
	Michiru looked away from the painting, and did not turn to 
look at it again. She fixed a pointed stare at Jadeite. "I imagine 
your own experiences would illustrate my point well enough."
	Jadeite suddenly beheld the ruthlessness lurking behind her 
demure façade. "That's cold, my dear. Very, very cold."
	"So is this hall," Michiru said. "Like the works that have 
been placed inside of it, there are only static and silent 
reflections of once vibrant, dynamic things."
	"You underestimate the echoes of antiquity then, Michiru," 
Jadeite said. "I would have thought you of all Lunarians would 
appreciate what the mirrors of the past have to offer. The Neptuni, 
from what I've read, were among the greatest mystics in this solar 
system."
	Michiru shook her head at him. "Do not be mistaken. I 
appreciate them for what they can give. I do not, however, believe 
that we can find answers here to our current problems."
	"And I," Jadeite countered, "would be inclined to disagree. 
We are hunting for this red-haired witch with books and guile and 
instinct. It has gotten us nowhere. And so I have been hunting for 
this woman in a different way."
	"In a room filled with statues?"
	A strange smile tugged at the corners of Jadeite's mouth. It 
took him a moment to realize he was wearing the smile of a hunter 
drawing closer to his quarry. "It's not what I see," he told 
Michiru. "It's what I can hear. I possess a connection, no matter 
how remote it may be, to whatever we're fighting."
	"Your berserker state," Michiru said.
	He nodded, and turned back to the painting. "I tapped into a 
darkness that has been here for a long time. Even though I have 
regained control of myself, I still remain linked to it."
	Jadeite crossed his arms over his chest, and waited to hear 
what chilling whispers the painting would speak.
	"The universe," Michiru said quietly, "is a strange and 
terrible place."
	"At first, all I could hear was that," Jadeite said, and 
tipped his head at The Progenitor. He then gestured back at the 
painting. "But the more I have meditated and listened, the more I 
feel I am bound to this one instead."
	"The Progenitor depicts the first and most ancient of 
darkness," Michiru said. "Anyone who passes it hears some distant 
echo of its roar."
	"Ever stopped to wonder why?" Jadeite asked.
	Michiru favoured him with an intrigued expression.
	"There is something that links us all with that...that thing," 
Jadeite said, his gaze upon The Progenitor. "That is why we're not 
deaf to its roaring. Something inside our very souls beats almost 
in resonance with it. That much I have come to understand."
	"Then why are you so fixated upon this depiction of the 
Darkstorm?" Michiru asked.
	"Because the resonance I hold with this piece is far greater 
than that of The Progenitor," Jadeite answered, though he did not 
sound as if he relished such a unique connection. "The Progenitor's 
echo strikes deeper inside of me, but when I stare at this 
piece...the echoes are louder. Clearer."
	He turned towards Michiru. "The roars of this demon are in 
perfect pitch with the demon inside me. There are no records of 
Berserkers ever existing before the Darkstorm. I should know: I 
spent the last two days looking."
	"This could have nothing to do with the threat we are facing 
now," Michiru said. "You could be wasting all of our time by 
focusing your efforts here instead of elsewhere."
	Jadeite shook his head at her. "You once put it so eloquently 
during one of our meetings," he said. "'You fight your way, and we 
shall fight ours.' Right now, this is my way of fighting."
	"Are you fighting for Earth, or are you fighting for 
yourself?"
	"Both." Jadeite looked to the painting, and listened. "I have 
to know how much this darkness controls me, Michiru. If I lose it 
again, there may be no coming back. And I would be of no use to 
Endymion, to you, or anyone else." 
	He glanced over at Michiru, and saw the expression she wore.
	"You disagree," he remarked. "I can see it in your face."
	Michiru frowned. It was an expression almost unbecoming of 
her. "I do not believe now is the appropriate time to perform such 
soul-searching."
	"If not now, when?"
	She did not have an answer to give.
	"This one thing I know, Michiru," Jadeite told her. "I have 
lost myself to those demon eyes before, but this is the first time 
I have ever heard such echoes in the aftermath. Why now, all of a 
sudden? And why with this piece only?" His eyes narrowed at the 
Darkstorm painting. "You may think I'm chasing after a ghost. But 
what if a ghost is chasing after us?"
	Michiru shifted uncomfortably, and glanced at the painting. 
"I would not like to consider that," she said quietly.
	"Why?"
	She turned towards Jadeite. "Because it would have had 
hundreds of years to watch us all, and know our every weakness." 
	With one final, disapproving look, Michiru left Jadeite alone 
in the Hall of Antiquity. He didn't mind being alone, or her 
disapproval. His demon eyes at the last masque had earned him that, 
and with his self-pity gone he was ready to once again shoulder the 
burden. Yet the very monster that served to undermine him was also 
proving to be an asset he would have never before considered.
	He was patient, as patient as whatever force was hunting 
them.
	He stood before the painting of the Darkstorm. He waited.
	Murmurs began to filter through the air, echoes of voices 
long silenced in blood-soaked massacres and wanton destruction. 
Jadeite's heart started to beat faster, and matched the rhythm of 
the pulses rumbling around him. Murmurs turned to strangled cries, 
and the sounds of frantic footsteps echoed from every direction. 
Invisible fingers crooked and beckoned Jadeite to go deeper, to 
come closer, to lose himself inside the glorious madness of the 
Darkstorm. He could almost taste the acrid smoke upon his tongue, 
and feel the stinging of a thousand swords upon his skin.
	He stood before the painting.
	There was nothing separating them.
	There was no one to stop him.
	Jadeite's hand reached out, and his palm pressed against a 
canvas of paint and memory that had not been touched in hundreds of 
years. Strangled cries shattered into painful screams, and Jadeite 
was dragged into the Darkstorm. He stumbled and reeled, spinning 
around as buildings around him exploded. People ran past him, ran 
into each other, burst into dust and ash as electrical arcs rained 
down from the ungodly black clouds that pulsed in the skies. 
	Jadeite tried to move. He was rooted to the spot. His 
shoulders were struck, and by all means he should have been sent 
tumbling to the ground, but this was only a distant memory buried 
deep within the painting. He was a foreigner, a visitor, and the 
first true witness to this moment since those who had escaped it 
succumbed to eventual death.
	Through the roars of thunder and deafening reverberations of 
a collapsing world and crumbling city, he could hear laughter. The 
delight in that voice he could almost call human turned Jadeite's 
blood cold. 
	He stared up into the heavens, and saw the impossible.
	The storm was staring back down at him.
	And the storm laughed. 
	"Shadow!" it howled. "I know the name of your shadow!"
	Jadeite tore through the fear and paralysis, and forced his 
legs to move. Yet he refused to step forward, and moved back 
instead. Anything, even the smallest of steps, to get away from 
this monstrosity.
	"What are you?" he hissed.
	His heart was haemorrhaging in his ribcage. His body 
threatened to tear itself apart. Something beneath the very surface 
of his skin was shrieking and trying to claw its way back up. It 
wanted to burst through his flesh and bone and take flight. 
	His demon was awakening.
	"You belong to me!" the storm roared. "Your shadow belongs to 
me!" 
	Jadeite's body convulsed, his spine almost snapping in half 
as he jerked his head back. His eyes flickered scarlet. His skin 
began to darken and turn violet. Teeth into fangs. Hands into 
jagged claws. His body became not his own. Jadeite's jaws opened 
wide, and wider still, and from his throat came a howl that caused 
the stars to tremble before him. 
	In that moment, Jadeite understood.
	It took everything Jadeite could pull together to keep 
himself from becoming the demon once more. His roar pulled him out 
from beneath the leering gaze of the storm, from within the 
terrible memory. Jadeite tripped and crashed backwards onto the 
floor of the Hall of Antiquity. His uniform and hair were soaked 
with sweat. Crimson tears flowed down his pale face.
	Had he the breath, he would have whispered, "May the gods 
save us."
	Jadeite cast his gaze back at the painting of the Darkstorm. 
What he once viewed with reverence, awe and trepidation he now 
looked upon with fear and loathing. Ever since he had come to hate 
his demon eyes, he had sought to understand what had such infernal 
power to overtake him. Now he'd been given a glimpse into its 
nature, its origins, and he was terrified. Jadeite closed his eyes 
and spent time slowing his heartbeat. 
	If he was to tame the memory, he had to calm himself first.
	Whatever this storm was, he was bound to it. 
	For years Jadeite had wondered about his demon eyes, about 
his Berserker state. At long last, he had the answers he sought. 
And he knew what must be done next: he had to find the name of the 
survivor who painted that horrific glimpse into evil.


			*	*	*
	Rei and Nephrite sat before the Fire. It crackled and popped, 
defying the silence, and sent red and yellow angels dancing upon 
the shadows of the chamber. Rei was once more dressed in her 
priestess' ceremonial robes. Nephrite wore lighter clothes and 
armour. It did not help him escape the rolling heat of the Fire 
very much, but even a little bit of leeway from sweating to death 
was welcome.
	Their sessions had become a daily occurrence, though the 
times varied based upon Rei's guard duty. The notion made Nephrite 
smirk a bit; given how much time Endymion and Serenity were 
spending together, it wasn't like she was wandering around unarmed. 
Endymion was a weapon, he just happened to be more clean-shaven 
than a sword.
	He brought his gaze to rest upon Rei's seated form. She had 
been practicing--it was obvious now given her level of progress. 
Some of it might have been because her blood held certain...mystical 
qualities his did not. Nevertheless, Nephrite found himself 
understanding what his old sensei had said one day:
	'There will come a time, my child, when you will look at 
someone through eyes not unlike mine. He will not be your son. She 
will not be your daughter. But your smile will be pulled by the 
strings of pride when you watch them accomplish even the most 
difficult tasks set before them. Remember how much you struggle 
now, and then you will understand why I am smiling at you this 
way.' 
	"I await your instructions," Rei said, and bowed in a formal 
manner that still made Nephrite feel too self-conscious. 
	Dammit, he might have been teaching her, but he wasn't that 
much a master compared to her. At least she wasn't calling him 
sensei or -sama.
	Rei grinned and leaned back a little, her body relaxing. She 
was dropping her guard, acting the way she wanted to, knowing she 
would not have to stand on ceremony or tact. She was being herself. 
That was exactly what Nephrite liked about her, and more 
importantly what was needed if one of them was to find the wraith-
woman. A mind, like a thought, was a fluid thing. It could not be 
static or stiff, and so neither could the person breaking into it.
	 "So what are we doing tonight?" Rei asked him. "I've 
rearranged stars and turned the earth beneath our feet into water. 
I've even managed to change the clothes I've worn."
	That made Nephrite grin, as she had at first protested 
mightily to that concept. It had taken the good part of an hour for 
him to explain that while inside a mindscape, you did not have to 
strip in order to change clothes. Granted, until she had perfected 
the technique, he'd managed to see a few choice parts of her, but 
he wasn't exactly complaining. Neither had she, for the most part.
	"You've mastered almost all we can for basic techniques," 
Nephrite said to her. "Inside my mindscape, you are discovering 
that nothing, not even yourself, is bound by the laws of this 
world. That is the first step to learning how to farsee into the 
mind of someone else."
	Rei looked confused. "So...we're not going into your mind?"
	"This time," Nephrite told her, "I shall be entering your 
mind. It's time to see what awaits me."
	The mindscape was, at its core, a construct: a playing field 
representing a person's thoughts, heart and soul. It could be 
created. It could be destroyed. It could be reborn. It could be 
penetrated and decimated and resurrected. Nephrite had first 
likened it to countries or nations. Each person's mind was a 
country. So long as you knew how to do it, you could spy on someone 
else's "country" or even invade it. 
	For days now, Nephrite had asked Rei to create and shape her 
mindscape. It could be a place of her choosing, wherever and 
whatever she wished. It did not have to always be the same, but it 
would remain a sanctuary to shut herself inside of, be it to 
meditate or defend. Now it was time to see how she had succeeded.
	"Are you ready?" Nephrite asked.
	Rei nodded her head. 
	Nephrite closed his eyes, and entered into her mind.
	He could suddenly feel Rei's shock, her entire body jolting. 
There were mental defences set up, but they were weak and 
unprepared. They were dashed to pieces like glass, and with ease 
Nephrite opened his eyes and beheld Rei's mindscape. 
	They stood amidst an enormous field of golden wheat, or at 
least stalks of grain that resembled wheat. Behind them was a 
distant horizon where the brilliant rays of the setting sun 
swallowed up the seemingly endless wheat field. Before them stood a 
large hill covered in broken walls, lonely columns and a myriad of 
steps leading to nowhere. What sort of ruins they might have been, 
Nephrite had no idea.
	He tipped his head to the skies, and noted that they were 
more crimson than he was used to seeing, even at dusk.
	"Impressive."
	Rei stood a few steps away, reeling somewhat from having her 
mind invaded.
	"The nausea will pass," he told her. "Expect it to happen 
every time someone tries to farsee into your mind. Even I can be 
forced to my knees." He looked to the top of the hill, and saw a 
lone, dead tree curving its slender trunk towards the skies.
	"What inspired this?" 
	"I saw this in a painting," Rei said to him. There was a 
distant fondness in her quiet voice. "It used to hang in my 
brother's bedroom, though that was a long time ago."
	Nephrite turned to her in surprise. "You have a brother?"
	She nodded, visibly amused by his reaction. "You think the 
Sailor Soldiers all come from single-child families?"
	"You've just never made any sort of indicator to the 
contrary," Nephrite said.
	"Our families are in other kingdoms, in distant worlds away 
from ours," Rei explained. "I have an older brother, who will one 
day succeed my father as lord of the Mars Kingdom. Makoto has four 
brothers, and she's the middle child. Minako has a younger sister. 
Ami and Serenity are the only children in their families. I don't 
know about the Outer Soldiers."
	"No one save for Halcyon seems to know much at all about the 
Outer Soldiers," Nephrite grudgingly agreed. He didn't entirely 
like the idea of such ghost-like figures being so prominent in 
their battle plans. He knew so little of how much he could trust 
them, or what they were capable of in any sort of situation.
	He cast his gaze back to the ruins decorating the rising hill 
of rocks and grass. "We should be setting off for there." 
	He began to make his way through the field. Rei kept pace 
alongside him, and seemed to glide effortlessly through the grain, 
while he had to contend with uneven ground and the wind against his 
face.
	"What about you?" Rei asked. "Do you have any siblings?"
	"No," Nephrite answered. "No siblings, no parents. I've been 
an orphan for as far back as I can remember. Don't even know where 
I was born and raised, or how I became an orphan."
	"What do you remember?"
	Nephrite's brow furrowed; it wasn't often he thought that far 
back. "Endymion's father. He was the first thing I saw when I 
opened my eyes, and realised that everything in the world was 
strange to me."
	"Where were you?"
	"The edge of some forest, sitting beneath a tree as if I was 
simply taking a nap." 
	"Were you....I mean, was your village..."
	Nephrite glanced over at her. So, she knew about Jadeite.
	"There was no blood on me, if that's what you are wondering," 
he said. "My clothes were dirty and showed the wearing of perhaps 
months of travel, but otherwise there was nothing to indicate I had 
escaped some raid or battle. I was a mystery. I still am."
	Rei mulled over his words and enigma, and looked to the 
handful of stars starting to peek out through the darkness of the 
dusk sky. A constellation must have been out of place, given the 
way she bit her lower lip. "This is different from before," she 
stated with a hint of disapproval.
	Nephrite nodded his head. "The world the mind creates is far 
more fluid than the world that exists outside of us. In here, will 
and imagination shapes everything. That is the easiest lesson to 
learn and the hardest lesson to master. What applies elsewhere 
doesn't apply here."
	He was already moving a star, his outstretched fingers 
guiding it to a new place in the heavens. Barely any effort was 
needed to rearrange the stars within Rei's mindscape. That would 
change soon enough.
	They reached the peak of the hill, were crumbling walls and 
fallen arches were strewn about. Rei stood by the dead tree, and 
awkwardly shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She was 
growing restless. "What happens next?"
	A smile pulled at the corners of Nephrite's mouth. He stared 
out at the distant horizon, his back to Rei. "I'm going to fight 
you," he stated.
	Rei was incredulous. "What?"
	"It works better this way, being in your mind." Nephrite 
turned to her. "You have more control over this scenario, though it 
will take you time to realize that. The stronger you become here, 
the stronger you will become when you break into other peoples' 
minds. Now prepare yourself."
	"But I don't want to fight you!" Rei protested. "I'm here to 
learn, not fight!"
	"To fight is to learn," Nephrite stated. "Farseeing into 
someone's mind isn't like sneaking a peek at a letter or diary. 
They will have defences raised up, both conscious and otherwise. 
Sometimes you will have to duel like this in order to see into 
their mind and steal their secrets. My sensei once spoke about dark 
seers of long ago, people with powers and hearts blacker than 
shadows, who could even alter the mind of someone they attacked. 
With the victim's mindscape altered beyond repair, the victim a 
willing servant to their new master."
	His voice took on a hardened edge.
	"For all its elegance, for all its mystery, farseeing is a 
weapon, pure and simple. If you think this red-haired witch we seek 
will just kindly let you waltz into her mind and display all her 
secrets for you, then you are sadly deluded. She will force us out 
of her mind. She will attack our minds in retaliation. She may even 
be able to parade illusions and false images before us to lead us 
astray, or trap us within her mind and force us to become her 
obedient spies." 
	"Nephrite," Rei said quietly. She was standing still, the 
wind tousling her long, black hair. Her eyes showed sudden concern 
for him, and a newfound understanding of just how serious he was.
	"I," Nephrite stated, "will not lose to her. If you wish to 
do the same, then you will test your own strength, and prove to me 
that you can not only take this witch on, but that you will have 
better fortune than I."
	 Nephrite drew himself up to a point where he towered over 
her. "Become who you were chosen to be, and fight me."
	He half-expected Rei to simply transform into Sailor Mars 
with a silent command, but even within the mindscape, Rei drew out 
a small golden stick and called out, "Mars Crystal Power!"
	She became enveloped in a pillar of fire. When the flames 
dispersed, her priestess robes were gone, and the battle uniform 
adorned her body. Nephrite tipped his head to the side as he noted 
the long heels on her shoes. How on earth anyone could run, kick or 
fight in those was beyond even his guess. Sailor Mars took up a 
defensive position of her own, one from a school of martial arts 
that Nephrite did not recognize. So the ardently peaceful Lunarians 
had developed their own forms of fighting, after all.
	"Ready whenever you are," Sailor Mars said. She tried to 
sound brave, maybe even cocky. 
	To Nephrite, she sounded like a beginner trying not to be 
nervous. It was understandable. She had not the slightest idea what 
was about to happen next. Nephrite tightened up his stance. "I made 
the challenge," he said, "so I'll make the first move."
	Nephrite smiled and winked at her.
	Suddenly he was standing right in front of her, and smashed 
his fist into Mars' chest. "Too slow," he hissed.
	Mars' eyes widened as she coughed and sputtered. She fell 
backwards, clutching at her chest and gasping for air. She looked 
up at where Nephrite had been standing, but found only empty ruins. 
	"Over here," came his voice.
	Sailor Mars scrambled to her feet when she realized he was 
behind her. One arm was gingerly held against her stomach, the 
other raised defensively in front of her face. Nephrite was quite 
casual about their duel, and sauntered towards her in no hurry at 
all. He could see the question on her face, the answer she was 
demanding.
	"How did I do it?" he remarked, surveying his hand. He then 
turned his gaze towards her. "The better question is: why did you 
let me do it?"
	Mars' eyes darted back and forth across the ruins, and they 
were filled with apprehension. Perhaps even panic. "This is wrong," 
she muttered under her ragged breaths for air.
	"This is war," Nephrite stated coldly. "Deal with it, or 
suffer defeat."
	Nephrite smashed his fist into the ground, and the earth 
broke apart beneath his knuckles. Chunks of dirt and grass and 
stone were sent tumbling into the air as the ruins shuddered from 
the blow. Sailor Mars found the earth under her feet crackling and 
then exploding up into the air. With a cry she wrenched herself 
sideways and narrowly avoided being caught up in the maelstrom.
	She rolled across the ground, coming back up onto her feet.
	There was little chance to think; all she could do was react 
as Nephrite came for her once more. He swung his fist around, this 
time aiming for her face. Yet as she saw the blur of colour cutting 
through the air, Sailor Mars moved just as fast. She dodged 
Nephrite's punch, though barely, and sidestepped around him. 
Nephrite blocked her attempt to throw a punch into his side.
	And then as Sailor Mars tried to kick him in the neck, 
Nephrite did the impossible: he smashed his fist into the ground, 
and the earth exploded beneath him. Dirt and grass and rock erupted 
into the air as something came tearing through the mindscape 
towards Mars. Frantic, she scrambled out of the way as the 
invisible force tore a gouge in the hill, narrowly missing her in 
the process. 
	It began to rain bits of dirt and debris.
	Sailor Mars coughed as she pushed herself up off the ground. 
When she got to her feet and looked around, Nephrite was nowhere in 
sight. For a moment, panic flooded her system. Then a low, amused 
chuckle reached her ears. Nephrite was perched atop a brokedown 
arch, crouching low as he stared down at Sailor Mars. He could see 
the look of surprise on her face. 
	"How can I fight you if you can do that?" Mars shouted 
angrily at him.
	Her reaction made Nephrite laugh. "This is your mind, Sailor 
Mars. Am I really the one to say what you can and can't do inside 
it?" 
	She shot him a glare.
	Nephrite was suddenly reminded of himself, when his old 
sensei was first teaching him about farsensing and mindscapes. Of 
course, at the time he had not only glared, but said a few choice 
words that could not have been repeated in front of small children. 
"We're fighting inside a mindscape," he said. "It's really just a 
battle of wills given a somewhat physical form. Our real bodies are 
actually sitting in front of the Fire, giving the occasional muscle 
twitch."
	Sailor Mars pointed angrily at the large tear across the 
hill. "And just what the hell is that supposed to be?" she snapped.
	"Oh, that little trick?" Nephrite remarked. "An illusion, 
nothing more. I forced my will upon your mind, and bent it to my 
will. I could never duplicate that in the real world, but in here 
you let me get away with it. Now jump."
	Mars blinked. "What?"
	"I said, jump up here and face me." Nephrite stood up, and 
his shadow fell over Sailor Mars. "Are you going to let me bounce 
around inside your mindscape and do whatever I please?"
	Sailor Mars growled something under her breath, but 
nevertheless gave in to his baiting. Her first jump was pathetic. 
It was no different from any jump she might have made in the 
Lunarian Palace. Nephrite winced and did not bother hiding his 
distaste and disappointment. That only served to make Sailor Mars 
even angrier.
	Sailor Mars looked down at the earth, and back up at 
Nephrite. She clenched her jaw, and vaulted effortlessly into the 
air. Nephrite's scowl turned to an approving smirk as Mars alighted 
the opposite end of the arch.
	"Finally decided to get serious, did you?" he remarked.
	"No, it was the thought of leaping up here and knocking that 
smug look off your face that did it," Sailor Mars retorted.
	One of Nephrite's eyebrows arched up. "Good enough." 
	They dueled again, and when Nephrite knocked Sailor Mars to 
the ground, she got up and they dueled again. And when Nephrite 
swatted her halfway down the hill, despite the blood she spat out 
of her mouth, Sailor Mars got up and continued to fight. And when 
Nephrite punched through stone and threw columns at her like they 
were spears, she continued to fight. And when Sailor Mars summoned 
her Firesoul and drew blood, Nephrite backed away, found a rock to 
sit down on, and called an end to their sparring.
	"Will this show on our bodies when we leave?" Mars asked, 
sitting down on a nearby rock.
	Nephrite shook his head. "Ideally, no. If the damage is 
severe enough, you may taste blood in your mouth or have a few 
scars."
	Nephrite was suddenly reminded of himself, when his old 
sensei was first teaching him about farsensing and mindscapes. Of 
course, at the time he had not only glared, but said a few choice 
words that could not have been repeated in front of small children. 
"We're fighting inside a mindscape," he said. "It's really just a 
battle of wills given a somewhat physical form. Our real bodies are 
actually sitting in front of the Fire, giving the occasional muscle 
twitch."
	Sailor Mars looked down at the ground. "What happens if you 
are killed inside a mindscape, yours or someone else's?"
	"You die," Nephrite said flatly. "The body and the mind are 
connected, and cannot live separate of each other. That is one of 
the dangers of farsensing. If your enemy gets the better of you, 
the encounter may leave you crippled, a traitor, or dead."
	"So if I was fighting you in your mind?"
	Nephrite shrugged. "I'd have probably made quick work of 
defeating you. Remember, you would be in my mind. I have the 
homefield advantage there. I can reshape the entire playing field 
on a whim, or change the rules in a way that causes you to suddenly 
flounder."
	"But you defeated me so easily in my mind," Mars said.
	He nodded. "That is because you are still learning. But if 
you can fight me and hold your own, you will be able to break down 
my defences."
	"And what happens then?"
	"Instead of me seeing your life, you will see mine."
	Rei's eyes widened in alarm.
	"I haven't seen anything of your life yet," Nephrite 
reassured her. "The fighting has not yet become that intense. But 
it will be. Should you defeat me in your mind, you will not see 
much. But if you are in my mind when you beat me, you will have me 
at your mercy. That is what it means to farsee: to control what you 
see in another's mind, to know what they know...and perhaps even 
change what they know.
	"If your opponent is weak or ordinary enough, you will never 
even see a mindscape. It will be little more exertion for you than 
running down a hall. However, should you come across an opponent 
who is strong, and knows about farsensing, you will find yourself 
on the playing field that is their mindscape. And there the real 
battle begins."
	He got up off the rock, and stretched his arms. The small 
streams of blood running down his shoulder had already dried. 
Nephrite silently admitted to himself that the wound might still be 
waiting for him when he left her mindscape.
	"We are done for tonight," he said to Sailor Mars, "but we 
will continue to duel inside your mindscape. Learn to alter your 
mindscape as you were learning to alter mine. Remember this: inside 
your mind, you have the advantage. Next time, it will not be as 
easy for me to defeat you." 
	Mars did not seem entirely convinced of her own skills as she 
sat upon the stone. "You say it like you believe it."
	Nephrite rewarded her with a sincere smile, and equally 
sincere words. "I say it because I believe you will not let me get 
off so easily a second time."
	Despite her scepticism, Sailor Mars smiled. He wondered how 
often it was her fighting skills were complimented. 


			*	*	*
	The days upon Lunaria were beginning to pass by in a blur of 
masques, appointments and secret meetings. More than once Kunzite 
recalled Nephrite's early concerns about their country's leaders 
being absent for so long. Frequent communiqués with their homeland 
had turned up very little in terms of conflict. The leaders and 
armies they had left behind were doing a remarkably effective job 
keeping the peace and quashing the handful of bands of raiding 
thieves. The fact, the thieves and marauders seemed to have quieted 
down considerably and were doing very little.
	It was very unusual. 
	Kunzite couldn't help but worry.
	He sat inside their common room, leaning back upon one of the 
sofas, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. His eyelids slowly 
lifted up as he heard the main doors open up. Jadeite didn't walk 
in; he practically stormed in, and given the look on his face, it 
was urgent. 
	Kunzite lifted his head off the back of the sofa, and greeted 
Jadeite with a steely expression. Jadeite wasted no time sitting 
down next to him. Before Kunzite could even think of what to ask, 
Jadeite said, "The Berserker in me: it's more than just me going 
insane. There's something demonic that runs in my blood. And when 
that demon takes control, my eyes run crimson. But there's more to 
it than that."
	Kunzite had been expecting something else; he half expected 
for Jadeite to start brooding again. With a somewhat exasperated 
sigh, he tipped his head back and looked up at the skylight. 
	"You have to listen to this, Kunzite," Jadeite insisted. "I 
know where the Berserkers came from."
	"The Darkstorm Wars," Kunzite answered for him. "It's common 
knowledge, even for us."
	Jadeite shook his head. "No, they came from the Darkstorm 
itself."
	With that, Jadeite had Kunzite's full attention.
	"That thing was pure, concentrated evil," Jadeite said. "And 
I think it imparted some little essence of itself into its victims. 
You know all those scary-looking monsters the survivors talked 
about? Those creatures were people who were totally corrupted by 
the demonic nature of the Darkstorm. They got hit with so much evil 
that it consumed them, and they ceased to be human. Berserkers had 
the same thing, but I think they were only partly corrupted by that 
darkness. There was enough humanity left in them to look human, and 
some could even control their Berserker rage."
	This sudden and unexpected revelation chilled Kunzite. He 
chose his next words very carefully. "How do you know this?"
	Jadeite was unpleasantly reminded of his earlier session in 
the Hall of Antiquity. Standing before the Darkstorm, the demon 
within him almost took over, nearly transforming him into a 
blasphemous chimera. "Call it first-hand experience," he said. 
"Look, I've done a lot of research on this in Garnet's archives. 
About an hour ago, all the little pieces...let's just say they fell 
into place."
	"How?"
	Jadeite's jaw tightened. "The Hall of Antiquity is a place 
where old and nameless evils stand side by side with old and 
nameless heroes. We would be fools not to feel something they left 
behind."
 	Kunzite looked away, as an unpleasant prickling sensation 
slithered up his spine. He gave the matter consideration. "There 
haven't been Berserkers for centuries," he said quietly. "Most of 
them died out soon after the Darkstorm Wars ended. You're the first 
known one to appear in a very long time. So why now? And why you?"
	Jadeite shook his head. "I don't know. That part I haven't 
figured out yet. But I do know this: the Berserker demon is still 
trying to possess me. It doesn't have a lot of power, but it's 
damned well trying to take full control of my body. And it's not 
pretty."
	"Don't worry," he added, seeing the look on Kunzite's face. 
"I'm stronger than it is, much stronger. Whatever's inside of me, 
it's nowhere near even half strength. Only when my defences are all 
destroyed can it overtake me."
	He didn't add, 'like that night with Spinel.'
	"What will you do now?" Kunzite asked.
	Jadeite glanced over his shoulder at the main doors. "The 
Archives again. There's a reason this demon inside of me has 
awakened, a demon that should have died out with the Darkstorm. I 
have to know why. And maybe I'll find her somewhere along the way."
	He looked to Kunzite for approval.
	"You think this red-haired woman is connected somehow," 
Kunzite said.
	"Somehow." Jadeite let out a derisive laugh as he studied 
Kunzite's expression. "You look about as sceptical as Michiru did 
when I told her."
 	Kunzite exhaled, his gaze down upon the polished floor. 
Despite how relaxed his body appeared, Jadeite could see how tense 
the General had become. Kunzite looked back Jadeite with a hardened 
edge in his gaze.
	"If there's a connection," he said, "then you had better find 
it."
	Without any hesitation Jadeite stated,  "I will."
	The main doors opened, and both Generals turn their heads. 
Zoicite stood in the doorway, and looked surprised to see them. 
"Oh, I didn't think anyone was here," Zoicite said as he discreetly 
closed the door behind him.
	"I was just leaving," Jadeite said briskly, and walked out of 
the guest quarters.
	Zoicite gave him an odd look as they brushed shoulders, then 
shrugged. 
	Kunzite rested his head against the back of the sofa. "I'm 
just waiting for someone, Zoicite. I'll be gone shortly."
	"Me too." Zoicite sauntered across the common room and jumped 
over the back of a chair, landing perfectly on the cushions, his 
outstretched legs resting upon the edge of the table. "Ami is 
treating me to lunch before we return to more dust-ridden 
manuscripts in the Archives."
	With a beleaguered sigh he looked up at the glass skylight 
over their heads. "I swear, after this I'm going to be more fluent 
in reading Lunarian than kanji." 
	"I thought all of our meals were catered by the palace 
kitchens," Kunzite remarked.
	"Yeah, but it's the location that matters here." Zoicite 
lowered his chin and looked across the table at Kunzite. "She's not 
sure if I'd be able to find the place on my own, so she's meeting 
me here. So, who are you waiting for?"
	"A Sailor Senshi, same as you."
	"Same one?"
	Kunzite nodded. "There are a few arrangements I must 
discreetly make, and I can think of no better candidate to assist 
me than her."
 	Zoicite leaned back in his chair. After a few moments of 
silence and sitting, Zoicite drew out a shuriken knife and absently 
began twirling it between his fingers. It was a habit of his, and a 
sure sign he was growing listless. "Long day," he said.
	"Really long," Kunzite agreed. He let his head tip back once 
more, and closed his eyes.
	With a flicker of movement, Zoicite twirled the shuriken 
around his index finger and then sheathed it in a hidden 
compartment in his kote. He drew up his legs and let his elbows 
rest atop his knees. "Nephrite and Rei have been spending a lot of 
time together," he remarked. "You don't think they're an item, do 
you?"
	Kunzite tried not to smirk. "I doubt it."
	"I don't know," Zoicite countered. "Every now and again, I've 
seen them walking around together, and...well, I've never seen 
Nephrite so comfortable before. You know how difficult it is for 
him to get along with strangers."
	Kunzite nodded. "He's generally the one who's making it 
difficult. But he's not the only one disappearing for hours on end 
in his spare time."
	"I know where Jadeite goes," Zoicite said. "If he's not 
looking up some obscure text in the Archives, he's in that creepy 
Hall of Antiquity."
	Kunzite's eyes opened. "Creepy? That's a rather unbecoming 
description."
	"Have you ever been in there by yourself, Kunzite?"
	"Once or twice with Minako."
	Zoicite scowled and made his shuriken flip around his 
fingers, from his index to his pinky. "How Jadeite can remain in 
there for hours on end amazes and disturbs me. What is he doing in 
there?"
	"His duty," Kunzite stated. "He believes there's a connection 
between one of the pieces and the woman we seek."
	That drew both Zoicite's surprise and suspicion.
	"This is news to me," he said after a moment of silent 
consideration.
	"The General's making it a point of telling as few as 
possible," Kunzite said. "He's already come under scrutiny by the 
Outer Soldiers."
	Zoicite leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with Kunzite. 
It was impossible for either of them to stare each other down, but 
it still was a good indicator of how serious they were. "And what 
do you think about it?"
	"I'm allowing him to continue," Kunzite said. "Every other 
lead we've tried to pursue has fallen cold, Zoicite. Right now I'm 
willing to try anything. Nephrite and Rei are trying to smoke out 
this witch in their own way. Jadeite's doing the same." His tone 
softened a little with a change in subjects. "What about you, 
Zoicite? More often than not, you return late at night utterly 
exhausted, and you've missed more masques than the rest of us 
combined."
	Zoicite shrugged. "No one's openly objected to that. Not yet, 
anyways."
	"Well, Nephrite's voiced his displeasure."
	"Only because he can't seem to avoid them the way I have."
	"Very true," Kunzite admitted with a laugh "So where do you 
disappear to when the time is ours to spend as we wish?"
	"When I'm not scouring the Archives with Ami or Garnet, I've 
been with the Seraphim. Beyond that, I will say nothing else."
	"You don't need to," Kunzite agreed, and glanced up at the 
distant Earth over their heads. "I imagine you've endeared yourself 
to the Order quite considerably." 
	Zoicite followed Kunzite's gaze. "Missing home?"
	"More than I'd care to admit to."
	"What do you miss the most?"
	Kunzite answered without hesitation. "The mountains. They 
stand just along the horizon from my command post. No matter how 
often I travel, that place remains my home, my sanctuary. There is 
nothing more beautiful than waking up at dawn and seeing the 
sunrise paint the most majestic colours upon those peaks. The 
longer I stay here, the more I feel like I'm betraying their 
memory."
	"Bar songs," Zoicite said. "That's what I miss the most: my 
whole corps sitting beneath the night sky and sinking drunken 
choruses until we all pass out."
	"Good times?"
	"The best. Thirty of us all singing the same cadences, 
cheering each other on, and for a few brief hours the troubles of 
the world are as far as away as the distant stars. For a few hours, 
I'm free. Unfortunately, after that I'm hung-over."
	They shared a moment of laughter together, which then tapered 
away to comfortable silence. The chronometer on the wall continued 
its endless rhythm. Kunzite's eyes closed once more as he relaxed 
amidst the quiet, and Zoicite toyed with a shuriken once more.
	Both Generals sat up when there came an abrupt knock at the 
door.
	"Your turn," they said to each other.
	In the end, Kunzite outranked Zoicite, and Zoicite was 
delegated the task of crossing the common room and opening the 
door. Ami stood patiently on the other side, her hands clasped 
together in front of her chest. She in turn smiled warmly when she 
saw him. Zoicite stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.
	"Is General Kunzite here?" Ami asked as Zoicite closed the 
main doors.
	Kunzite gestured to one of the chairs, inviting her to sit 
down. After she seated herself, Zoicite flung himself back into his 
chair.
	"I didn't think we'd have an audience," Ami remarked, and 
glanced at Zoicite. 
	"His presence changes very little," Kunzite replied evenly. 
"I trust the General with keeping secrets."
	"Unless they're embarrassing ones," Zoicite said as he 
twirled another shuriken. "In which case I just wait for the right 
opportunity." 
	Ami inclined her head slightly. "What did you require of me 
then?"
	Kunzite explained his plans to her. Once he had finished 
outlining everything, Ami uncrossed her legs and rested her chin 
upon the back of her hand in careful consideration.
	"It will take a few days for us to rearrange the guard 
rotation around Serenity," she stated, and then smiled. "But I 
think we'll be able to manage it. You really do care for her, don't 
you, General?"
	Kunzite didn't answer. He simply nodded his head. "I 
appreciate your efforts in all this, Ami-san. Thank you."
	"Maybe it should be I thanking you," Ami countered. "I've 
never seen Minako stroll around the palace, humming to herself the 
way she does now. For the first time in a long time, she's truly 
happy."
	With a bit of a start, Kunzite stiffened.	
	Ami saw the change in his demeanour. "She wears her smiles 
the way you wear that calm expression," she explained. "It's her 
way of dealing with the world around her." 
	Zoicite began to laugh. 
	"Your observational powers are frightening, you know that?" 
Kunzite said.
	"You should see me play your version of poker," Ami replied 
with a wink. "Zoicite taught the rules to me a day or two ago. Now 
he can't ever bluff without me calling him on it."
	Upon hearing that, Kunzite let out a bark of laughter.
	There were a few more minutes of casual conversation before 
Ami and Zoicite departed for the Archives. Before Kunzite had the 
opportunity to close the double doors behind them, Minako arrived.
	She glanced over her shoulder at Ami's fleeting form. "What 
was that about?"
	"I had a few questions I needed to ask her."
	"Seeing someone behind my back, are you?" Minako teased, 
elbowing him in the ribs. "You'd better be on good behaviour for 
the rest of the day, Kunzite, or else you may never get to see my 
room at this rate."
	"And what will happen if I don't play along?" Kunzite 
inquired with a smirk, and began to close the doors behind them.
	Minako brought that effort a halt as she pushed him back into 
the guest quarters. "Oh no, you don't," she stated, and kicked the 
doors shut with one foot. "I'm not finished with you just yet."
	Her fingertips walked along the chestpiece of his armour, 
seeking out the buckles that fastened it around his body.
	"Aren't you supposed to be watching Serenity?" Kunzite 
murmured.
	"Not until later this afternoon. We still have time enough."
	"Time enough for what?"
	"Time enough for you to shut up and kiss me already."
	Kunzite smiled as he lowered his head and began to nibble the 
side of her neck. "Who am I to argue with that?"


			*	*	*
	With a glance over his shoulder, Zoicite saw the doors to 
their guest chambers close behind Minako and Kunzite. He idly 
entertained ideas of what they were probably doing in there, and 
even then it was only for a few moments. He turned his attention to 
the young woman walking alongside him. Ami might have stood almost 
a head shorter than him, but she carried herself with an impressive 
amount of elegance only second to Sailor Neptune. The dress 
adorning her body was like a waterfall, falling in ripples and 
layers over her. Around her neck hung a small pendant, its face a 
shimmering blue stone.
	Zoicite suddenly caught himself staring at her somewhat 
prominently displayed cleavage, and tried to look elsewhere.
	Ami smiled, mistaking his awkwardness for something else. 
"Worried about your commander?"
	"Not especially, no," Zoicite said. He brought his arm to 
rest upon the hilt of his katana. "I have yet to see Kunzite falter 
in anything he does. He's the oldest and the strongest of us. But 
even he has his secrets. He's a surprisingly solitary beast."
	Ami let out a quiet breath and lifted her gaze up to the 
arched ceiling towering high over their heads. "We all need some 
solitude," she said. "It doesn't have to be a lot, but it reminds 
us of who we are apart from the rest of the world. It also reminds 
us of why we need the rest of the world."
	"Been reading Garnet's philosophy books again?"
	"Not recently. Lately, I've been lucky to find the time to 
sleep between my shifts guarding Serenity, all these secret 
meetings, and helping Garnet search the Archives."
	Zoicite sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I know the 
feeling." 
	"So I've noticed," Ami agreed. "I haven't seen you very much 
at the masques." 
	"I've been...elsewhere."
	"That does make me wonder what Cioran has you doing."
	Zoicite came to an abrupt halt, staring at her in disbelief. 
"How...How did you?"
	Ami smiled. "The Seraphim are notorious for keeping to their 
own ranks. It's very rare for any of them to take interest in 
someone outside their Order, but Cioran--one of their top members--
has taken an avid interest in you. Remember how he approached you 
at the end of our modelling session?"
	"I'm still trying to forget about that," Zoicite ruefully 
muttered as they resumed their walk.
	Ami's smile changed into a slight frown. "You mean you didn't 
like posing with me?"
	Only too late did Zoicite realize what he'd said. Now he 
looked at Ami with mild panic in his eyes. "No!" he said quickly. 
"Not that! It's...does my hair really look that flowing?"
	Ami tried to stifle her laughter, but failed and began to 
outright chuckle. Chagrined already, Zoicite did nothing to stop 
her laugher. "I'd be disappointed if you cut off your ponytail," 
Ami said once she calmed back down. "I think we can chalk that one 
up to artistic creativity."
	They had arrived at an unfamiliar junction of corridors; 
Zoicite couldn't place any of the architecture or décor. She was 
leading him to someplace new.
	"I thought we were going for lunch and then the Archives," 
Zoicite said.
	"There is something I want to show you first," Ami said. 
	She guided him to their left, where they had to weave their 
way around long and grand hall adorned with pillars and caryatids. 
	Zoicite let out a weary sigh. "You know, I'm amazed I can 
still scour the Archives with you and Garnet, attend all these 
meetings and masques, and somehow muster enough time to train under 
the Seraphim. As vulgar as it might sound, this is almost as busy 
as fighting a war."
	Ami's eyes took on a hardened, almost uncharacteristic edge. 
"You are fighting, General," she said, "but now we are all fighting 
to stop a war from even starting."
	Zoicite nodded his head. He let his eyes casually wander over 
one of the caryatids. The woman carved in the stone wore a passive 
smile; with a sacred book in one hand held tightly to her chest, 
and an all too familiar henshin held aloft over her head. Zoicite 
looked at one of the other caryatids. This woman too, while gowned 
in traditional Lunarian clothes, wielded a henshin in one hand, and 
in the other one a savage-looking sword.
	All of them clutched the henshin of the Sailor Soldiers.
	"What is this place?" Zoicite asked.
	"This," Ami said with a great deal of reverence and 
melancholy, "used to be the home of the Sailor Soldiers of old. 
Four hundred years ago, this was where they all dwelled when they 
were not fighting the Darkstorm." She turned her head and looked 
directly at Zoicite. "Normally you wouldn't even have made it past 
those crossing halls further back; you would have seen only solid 
walls. My presence alongside you opened your eyes to this secret 
place."
	The hall of caryatids came to an end, and they now found 
themselves standing inside a small, open atrium that reached out 
into four different corridors. Zoicite looked down at the floor. 
Beneath their feet, etched beautifully onto the marble floor, was 
an elaborate wheel decorated with Lunarian runes and planetary 
symbols: the emblem of the Sailor Soldiers.
 	Zoicite glanced down each empty corridor in turn. "What did 
they do here?"
	"Lived," Ami answered. "Slept. Trained." Her voice had grown 
so quiet since entering this place, gripped by an ancient sadness 
Zoicite could not understand. Slowly she brought her gaze around to 
stare with haunted eyes at Zoicite once more. "And prayed." 
	She began to make a slow, full turn where she stood, and took 
in the details of everything around her. "This place has been empty 
for over three hundred and fifty years, Zoicite. It's become a 
relic, a tomb. When we were born, Halcyon Queen debated whether she 
should open this place up again. In the end, she chose to let us 
live as a part of the palace, instead of living separate from it."
	They made their way down a corridor chosen at random, and 
lining the walls were closed doors, tables displaying ancient 
Lunarian art, and empty chairs. Zoicite ran a finger over one of 
the chairs. There was no streak left in his wake, no dust caked 
upon his fingertip. "It's remarkably clean," he said.
	"This place is filled with more mystery than can be 
contained," Ami said, and momentarily closed her eyes. "I can feel 
it in the very air I breathe."
	"Do the others know about this place?"
	She shook her head. "No. At least I don't think the Inner 
Soldiers do. The Outer Soldiers...I don't know. I have never seen 
them in here. Most of these doors are locked. Of the few chambers 
that open, none look like they've been lived in for centuries. Like 
so many places inside this palace, it's been hidden away and mostly 
forgotten."
	"How did you find it?"
	"By mistake. By sheer chance." Despite the lachrymose that 
threatened to engulf her, Ami smiled at the memory. "When I was 
younger, there was nothing more I loved than exploring new places. 
I know this palace better than officials and nobles who have lived 
here their entire lives. It has a soul, and will open up its 
secrets to those who are willing to listen."
	As Zoicite listened, he headed towards one of the doors. It 
reached to his touch, unlocking and opening up. Zoicite peered 
inside. He saw an empty bed and empty furniture, and a large patio 
window covered by dark drapes that would lead outside to a hidden 
deck. Everything felt non-descript, abandoned, and somehow still 
waiting to be rediscovered. Where had the possessions of the Sailor 
Soldiers who once lived here gone to? Were they given back to the 
Soldiers' families after they had died? Had they been moved to 
another place within the palace? Had this hideaway quietly stolen 
them away, mementoes of the people who had given these chambers 
life?
	Zoicite stepped out of the room and respectfully closed the 
door. Halfway down the hallway, there was another door on the 
opposite side. It too was unlocked. Zoicite peered into this one as 
well, and saw very little difference between it and the first. 
Everything looked old, abandoned, and still hoping. Ami said 
nothing as they walked; Zoicite assumed she had already explored 
these rooms years before.
	They reached the end of the corridor, where the far wall had 
been cut away and an elegant picture window had been put in its 
place. The darkness of the moon beyond mixed with the silver and 
white lights of the palace, making it appear as if it were a grey, 
overcast day outside. Zoicite stared out the window and saw a 
sprawling garden paradise. Beyond the trees and the walls behind 
them, there was more of the palace sprawling out as far as Zoicite 
could see. Yet it all looked as if the rest of the palace was lower 
somehow, and this place where the Sailor Soldiers had once lived 
was one of the highest pinnacles in the entire palace.
	The trees outside swayed to an unheard wind; it looked as if 
there was going to be a violent storm within the hour. But that was 
only in appearance. It never rained upon the moon. Zoicite looked 
away.
	There was one other door awaiting them, to Zoicite's right. 
Just as curious as he had been with the first door, Zoicite reached 
out towards it, ready to explore whatever was within. That door, 
however, refused to open.
	"This is an amazing place," he said to Ami as they returned 
the way they had come. "Thank you for bringing me here."
	She smiled warmly. "Thank you for being willing to come here 
with me. You're the first person I've brought here."
	Zoicite tried to smile, but the newfound perspective this 
place had given left him with newfound worries. These women had 
been warriors beyond imagination, and yet the Darkstorm killed most 
of them before they destroyed it. Was the threat they now faced 
just as terrible and powerful as that?
	"Do you think we'll make it?" he asked.
	The words slipped out of Zoicite's mouth before he realised 
it, and he instantly regretted relaxing his guard.
	Ami looked up at him. Her eyes showed no insult. If anything, 
they reflected the same worries she was trying to quell. "I have 
to," she said with a quiet ferocity. "If not, then there is no hope 
for the future, and all of our dreams might as well turn to dust 
and ash. To live a life without hope is not living at all. I still 
have hope--in myself, in our worlds, in what we are doing here 
today--and for that reason, I can face each new day despite the 
burden of my destiny weighing down upon me."
	"What's it like?"
	"Hm?"
	"Destiny," Zoicite said. "What's it like being caught in its 
grip, if you even believe in that sort of thing?"
	They stopped at the atrium, the emblem of the Sailor Soldiers 
beneath their feet once more.
	"I have to believe in destiny, Zoicite," she answered. Her 
voice and her resolve were unwavering. "Destiny is what gave me 
these powers and charged me with a purpose: to protect this system 
from evil. However, destiny can only carry me so far. I must walk 
on my own strength the rest of the way. I must choose for myself 
whether to embrace this power, or flee from it."
	"There is a third option," Zoicite said.
	Ami was puzzled. "What is that?" 
	"To embrace darkness instead of destiny."
	At that, Ami scowled and stepped away from Zoicite like he 
had suddenly become a complete stranger. "And become the very thing 
I am to fight against? That is not an option, General. Don't even 
make light of it being so."
	"Morality is a choice, Ami," Zoicite stated. "Believe me, I 
know better than anyone. Destiny, or chance, or whatever you'd like 
to call it, has given you an unfathomable power to wield as you see 
fit. You could just as easily turn your back on what you were 
taught and carve out your own empire."
	"And betray my friends?" Ami shook her head. "Never. That is 
why I can state it with such certainty, General. Not ever, and not 
as a willing participant. I would not stand to see any of them 
suffer. I love them too much."
	Zoicite couldn't help but regard her with a greater respect. 
It wasn't often he heard anyone talk like that, even the soldiers 
under his own command. Ami noticed the expression on his face.
	"You look kind of cute when you're admiring me," she said.
	"I like to think I look cute all the time," Zoicite said. "In 
a rugged, manly sort of way, of course."
	Ami burst into laughter. "We should probably get back to the 
Archives," she said once her laughter had ended. 
	"Yeah," Zoicite agreed. "Knowing Garnet, she'll need help 
climbing out from a neck-deep pile of archaic manuscripts." He 
started back the way they had originally entered. "So what does the 
rest of tonight hold for you?"
	"Well, right now I am walking through the palace with a good 
friend, and enjoying his company," Ami said. "Afterwards...that 
depends of what's being offered. Would you like to attend the 
masque with me, General?"
	Her forwardness was a little surprising, but Zoicite had no 
objections to it.  "I thought you didn't like the masques either," 
he remarked.
	"If you have the right person beside you," Ami said, "you can 
enjoy almost anything. I'm not offering to dance, mind you. I'm 
really not fond of that."
	"Do I have to dress formally?"
	Ami shook her head. "As I said before, I think you better in 
your uniforms rather than ours."
	Grinning, Zoicite bowed his head. "Then I'd love to, Milady."
	They retraced their steps back into the rest of the palace. 
The forgotten corridor behind them was silent.
	And abruptly the locked door at the end of the hall, with a 
low rumble, opened up. From the darkness inside, Lapis and Lazuli 
rose from their bed and glided across the floor. They peered out 
through the sliver of light falling into their chamber, and watched 
the shadows of Zoicite and Ami disappear around a corner.
	"They almost disturbed our dreams," Lapis whispered to her 
sister.
	Lazuli licked her lips. "I like her eyes. They're so very 
pretty when she laughs."
	The twins glanced at each other and giggled. 


			*	*	*
	Endymion stood in the centre of a large, circular arena--
short, wild grass beneath his boots, and Serenity in front of him. 
Not far away, he could see Makoto standing guard and watching the 
princess' every move. Gone were Serenity's flowing white gowns and 
elegant decorations. Now she wore a robe that barely covered her 
arms or her thighs, reminiscent of the "gi" worn by students in the 
Nihongo martial arts dojos Endymion frequently trained in himself. 
From previous bouts, Endymion knew that her chest had been taped.
	If Serenity was embarrassed by showing off so much of 
herself, she didn't let him see it. If anything, she seemed rather 
appreciative of the freedom of movement her uniform allowed her. 
For days Endymion had taught her what he could, what she was 
willing to learn. It seemed a miracle they were even able to do 
this in the first place. 
	There had been a confrontation, one Endymion got to witness, 
but it was between mother and daughter. He'd never been so thrilled 
before to be completely left out of an argument. More to the point, 
he was relieved that Halcyon had not once accused him of enticing 
Serenity to learn the arts of war. It ended with Serenity 
resolutely stating she wanted to learn, that she would learn, and 
help protect the world she loved. Halcyon had grown very quiet at 
that point and acquiesced to her daughter.
	When Halcyon turned away, Endymion thought he saw her crying.
	He'd never seen such sadness in Halcyon's eyes before.  
	The only restrictions the Queen handed down was that Serenity 
could only train with the Sailor Soldiers or Endymion. The guard 
shifts did not slacken. Sometimes Endymion watched as Serenity 
learned techniques from Minako or Ami, while another Inner Soldier 
looked on from the shadows. Thus far, Rei seemed too busy to be 
afford the time to help tutor the princess, and Makoto, reluctant 
and self-conscious whenever asked, always declined. (Not that he 
could blame her.)
	"Remember," Endymion told Serenity, "we're working on kicking 
today. Feel free to try and throw in a few punches if you can, but 
I want you to build up the strength in your legs."
	Serenity nodded.
	Endymion came at her, slowly and deliberately, letting her 
see his movements. He shifted his weight and kicked at her 
shoulder, pulling back the heel of his boot at the last second. It 
was an effort he needn't have done; Serenity was already elsewhere. 
She sidestepped as best she could, stumbling a little bit, and 
kicked Endymion in the chest. Endymion wore no armour, only a 
shirt. He still felt very little discomfort from her kick.
	Endymion retaliated with a kick meant to arc in front of her 
face. Serenity ducked the attack. They continued, Endymion easily 
delivering twice as many kicks as Serenity, but actually landing 
very few of them on her. He began to speed up his movements. 
Serenity still avoided nearly all of them.
	She possessed an unexpected grace, there was no other way of 
saying it. While she was a distinct novice with any offensive 
moves, she was quickly proving damned near untouchable. Endymion 
knew he was pulling his punches--the last thing he wanted was to 
leave any sort of bruise on the Princess of Lunaria, regardless of 
what touch-up's Hotaru could perform. Even still, she twirled and 
ducked and dodged almost all of his attacks with a speed and 
agility that rivalled his own.
	She barely broke a sweat, and he was left panting for air.
	"Are you all right?" she asked him.
	Endymion had to grin as he sat down on the ground. "I need a 
break," he admitted.
	Serenity sat down next to him. "How am I doing?"
	"Better than I'd have ever expected," Endymion said, shaking 
his head. "I don't know how you're doing it. You move like a 
dancer."
	Serenity blushed a little. "Not quite," she admitted. "I'm a 
skater. We have a large ice pond not far from the menagerie. It 
gives the palace officials and personnel the chance to enjoy 
themselves without having to make the long journeys outside of the 
palace."
	She pointed to flickers of silver light off towards the west. 
"See? That's the Sea of Tranquility. Part of the palace is built 
right upon the edge of the water. The, er, ballroom that was 
destroyed ran underneath its surface."
	Endymion suddenly wondered how much of that ballroom had been 
repaired by now. The effort must be difficult considering all the 
water. Something else then occurred to him. He turned to Serenity. 
"You have ice to skate on, and yet you don't know what snow is?"
	Serenity blushed even more and gave him a helpless shrug.
	"You're also a good teacher," she said quietly.
	"I was never one to listen to any of my teachers," Endymion 
said, and casually shrugged. "Kunzite's probably the only one I 
paid any attention to, despite him being only five years my senior. 
And there was also my father. Even then, there are lessons I never 
got the chance to learn." 
	He sighed and shook his head, his eyes looking down at the 
ground beneath his boots. Endymion abruptly became aware of the 
softness of Serenity's hair caressing his arm. The scent of hidden 
waterfalls and stardust filled the air, and the warmth of her skin 
pressed against his.
	She was leaning her head against his shoulder. "You're 
comfortable," she said in a quiet voice.
	Endymion wasn't sure if he should thank her for the 
compliment. He could not deny that he found himself excited by the 
prospect of becoming closer to Serenity. Of giving everything he 
was and had to her. Of feeling her naked body against his. Of 
wrapping his arms around her neck, and squeezing, and watching the 
life slowly drain from her.
	Endymion blinked, surprised, and immediately forgot.
	"You still need power behind your own kicks," he added. "I 
can tell you're getting faster, but without any sort of real force 
behind them, your opponent won't feel a thing."
	Somewhat dejected, Serenity let out a sigh. "They won't feel 
much from my punches either. And I barely even have enough arm 
strength to hold a sword. A lot of good I'm going to be."
	"You're only just beginning," Endymion told her. "We were all 
clumsy and awkward at the start. Just give yourself time, and with 
enough training you'll probably surpass all of us."
	Serenity's countenance grew momentarily sombre as she looked 
up at the stars. "And what if the war comes before I reach that 
point?"
	"Then you'll find your own way to protect the ones you love," 
Endymion said. "People as determined as you always do." He glanced 
over at Makoto. "I wonder what sort of techniques she knows," he 
idly wondered aloud.
	Serenity paused and then got to her feet. 
	"I'll be right back," she said, glancing down at Endymion. A 
broad smile was across her face. "Take your time to recover."
	As Serenity walked over to Makoto, Endymion sat back on the 
grass and enjoyed the feel of the cool lunar air. A shadow glided 
across his face, and when Endymion looked up Kunzite was standing 
over him. "You look like you've spent the last half hour trying to 
find me," Endymion remarked.
	"Hour, actually," Kunzite replied. "This palace is growing 
increasingly notorious for simply losing people inside its walls. 
Though I'd almost imagine you wouldn't mind getting lost with your 
present company."
	They both looked in Serenity's direction. It looked as if 
Serenity was trying to get some pointers from Makoto. Dragged out 
from the solitary comfort of the shadows, Makoto now had to hold 
one of her legs aloft as Serenity studied the way Makoto shifted 
her weight to compensate. 
	"You're lucky to find someone like her," Kunzite said. "Not 
many people do." 
	"What are the odds that she'd be Lunarian?" Endymion 
remarked.
	Kunzite looked down at Endymion. "Do you say that like it's a 
bad thing?"
	"No," Endymion answered. "It's just...strange, that's all. 
Everyone can joke all they want about us being together for the 
sake of convenience, like this was all pre-arranged. But when I 
look at her, I know it's further from the truth as it could get."
	"Love has a way of doing that," Kunzite agreed. 
	"I guess," Endymion said. "And you didn't have to wait until 
we took a break."
	Kunzite shrugged. "I had the time to spare. She's an 
exceptionally fast learner, though your teaching techniques need 
definite improvement."
	"Oho, this coming from you of all people?" Endymion shot 
back, and slowly got up. "So what did you want to ask me?"
	"A favour."
	Endymion gestured for Kunzite to go ahead.
	Kunzite drew himself up, and rather formally said, "I wish to 
be granted leave for a day, perhaps two at most."
	Endymion's attention was pulled away from Serenity trying to 
mimic Makoto's almost flawless kick. "And what would you be doing?"
	"Travelling."
	"Reconnaissance, or sight-seeing?"
	"In all likelihood, a bit of both." 
	"You won't be staying in the palace, I take it," Endymion 
said, his eyes drawn once more to Serenity. Somehow her enthusiasm 
was infectious; Makoto looked to be enjoying herself as she tried 
to adjust Serenity's stances.
	Kunzite shook his head. "I will remain on the moon, if that's 
what you are going to ask next."
	"It was, actually." Endymion looked back at Kunzite. "So just 
where are you going?"
	Kunzite gave his answer. 
	A smirk curled its way onto Endymion's face. "Aaah, it all 
begins to make sense now." 
	"It's a gift," Kunzite stated. "There is nothing in this for 
me--not officially." 
	There was a fierce sincerity in Kunzite's voice. Endymion 
recognized it easily enough; this was as much a matter of honour 
for Kunzite as it was personal.
	"I'm in no position to taunt you or deny your request," he 
said to Kunzite. "You have three nights to do as you please, unless 
an emergency arises. I'll leave the arrangements for you to make."
	"They have already been made," Kunzite answered. "Minako 
thinks we're going to the masque tonight. And as she's due to 
arrive very shortly for her watch, I should go before she sees me 
here."
	Serenity was approaching with Makoto, who seemed bewildered 
as to how she'd gotten talked into joining the training session.
	Endymion slowly got to his feet. "Sounds like one hell of a 
surprise," he said to Kunzite, and clapped his hand against the 
General's shoulder. "Good luck."
	"And you," Kunzite added. As he walked past Makoto, he told 
her, "He likes to favour his left leg. Watch for it when he shifts 
his weight, and you can knock him flat on his ass."
	Makoto stared at him in surprise.
	After a moment of reflection, Serenity nodded her head in 
agreement. "You're right, he does favour the left," she said 
matter-of-factly.
	Endymion could only massage his temples with his thumb and 
middle finger. "And I granted you leave, why?"


			*	*	*
	It never rained upon the moon. There were never any clouds, 
only starlight and darkness. As far as Nephrite could tell, the 
weather had yet to change significantly in any way since they first 
arrived. The only thing that ever seemed to shift or stir was the 
wind, and it had yet to rise above a mild breeze. He missed the 
feel of snow gently falling upon his face and shoulders. He missed 
the unusual thrill of a thunderstorm. Hell, he missed the warmth of 
the sunshine on a quiet afternoon.
	"When are we going home?" he muttered to himself. 
	An entire afternoon of meditations and missed meetings had 
brought him very little to ease his mind or his being. The stars 
had again avoided giving him any answers he sought. No answers, 
only ciphers. She was close, the red-haired witch. She was behind 
and ahead of them, all around them, breathing down their necks and 
whispering into their ears. She was the shadow upon the wall and 
the lingering dread left behind in empty hallways. She was life and 
death, and heaven and hell all at once.
	The stars repeated these things over and over. They had never 
been so evasive before, and it made Nephrite uneasy. All the 
confidence in the progress he'd been making with Rei's farsensing 
skills were unravelling, His stomach felt like a coiling mass of 
eels inside his body. Staring up at the stars was all he could do 
to keep himself collected and in control.
	He glanced to his left as he heard the echoes of familiar 
footsteps echo across the colonnade. Rei emerged from the light and 
shadow of the palace's inner halls, and joined him out on the bench 
beneath the open sky.
	"What are you doing?" she asked.
	"Just looking up at the stars," he answered. "It's been a 
long time since I just admired them."
	Rei tipped her head to the heavens. "What do you normally do 
with the stars?"
	"I read them," Nephrite said. "There are forces at work 
behind everything--nameless, powerful forces. Sometimes they 
control, other times they guide. They all hold different degrees of 
influence and sway over us, but all of them have the potential to 
foretell."
	He moved his gaze from the stars and looked at Rei. 
"Farsensing involves finding answers within the mind of another 
person. Reading the stars seeks out the answers in other places. 
The two are closely linked, but often mutually exclusive of each 
other."
	Rei seemed perplexed, given the expression on her face, and 
she lifted her gaze momentarily back up to the cosmos over their 
heads. "How easy is it to read the stars?" she asked.
	"It's a lot more subtle," Nephrite said, "and you first have 
to be rather adept at farsensing before trying this. Do you 
remember the place I first showed you when I brought you into my 
mind?"
	"The one with all those stars in it?"
	Nephrite nodded. "Usually when I meditate and read the stars, 
I do it from there. Within my mindscape, I find myself more attuned 
to the forces moving around us. It's like how you meditate before 
the Fire. You could meditate anywhere if you really wanted to, but 
your focus is sharper when in the presence of the Fire. For me, my 
senses are sharpened inside that chamber of stars."
	He rose from the bench, turned away from the colonnade and 
left the stars to their own devices. Rei walked beside him, the two 
passing beneath arches and between great marble pillars. 
	"When I first saw the red-haired witch," Nephrite said, "I 
was doing nothing more than trying to scry the stars. Unexpectedly, 
in reaching out for answers, I was led to her. One night you seek 
out the heavens for advice, and the next night for an enemy's 
weakness to exploit. And then one night you just look up at the sky 
and forget how beautiful it is." 
	Rei guided them through the labyrinthine corridors. "So what 
have the stars shown you?" she asked him.
	Nephrite was reminded of the dark words he had spoken when 
they'd first arrived upon Lunaria, and he spoke them once more: 
"They are afraid. Afraid to tell me what's going to happen."
	"What have you been able to see?"
	He scowled and decided it was better to look her in the eyes 
rather than avoid her gaze and pass his augurs off as trivial. 
"I've seen death, Rei. I don't know whose, not yet, but there is 
blood and ugliness on the horizon of the future."
	The paling of Rei's face made Nephrite immediately regret 
telling her exactly what he had been thinking. Dammit, for the 
warrior's heart she possessed, she was still just a child. Why did 
he believe she was like any of the Generals? 
	He did his best to change the subject, or at least give her 
some shred of hope. "Has the Fire shown you anything different?"
	Rei shook her head. "The Fire has been unusually evasive. 
More often than not, I feel some semblance of peace when I kneel 
before it. But in these last few days, the more I've meditated in 
its presence, the more uneasy I've felt. I thought it might have 
just been some of the after-effects of all the farseer training 
you've given me, maybe even the Fire being a little jealous that 
I've been spending more time with you than with it."
	She tried to smile at the joke, but her smile barely managed 
to come to life. "But now in light of what you've said," she 
admitted, "I am concerned."
	They stood at the gates of the Fire's sanctuary. Both removed 
their footwear, cleansed their hands and faces, and drank from the 
water basin. Before the roaring, ancient flames they stripped away 
their doubts and insecurities about the future, and concentrated on 
the task at hand.
	Nephrite brought her into his mind once more.
	They stood upon a mindscape of his choice: an orchard of 
sakura blossoms. Rows upon rows of trees towered over their heads, 
and pink petals fell like furious rain. Nephrite changed the 
weather, and made a thunderstorm rage overhead. Flashes of light 
danced in all directions. Thunder boomed in a cacophony of noise, 
the ground shaking beneath their feet. Sooner or later, the rain 
would break and pour down upon them in a great flood.
	Soon, but not yet.
	At least within the constructs of his mind, Nephrite could 
make it rain.
	Days ago it had proven a daunting task to defeat her within 
the playing fields of her mind. Now came the true test of Rei's 
farsensing abilities. So far, all the battles they fought within 
his mind had ended with her defeat. Every time she thought she was 
close to victory, he had twisted his mindscape in a new and vicious 
way. So far, she fell with each new twist. 
	The ground beneath her feet had tried to swallow her up. The 
darkness of the skies above them had turned into a swarm and 
wrapped itself around her like an infernal veil. Nephrite had 
convinced her that her arm had unravelled, bone and flesh peeling 
away like watery rinds of fruit. After that last defeat, they had 
taken a break for two whole days. Rei needed the time to reassure 
herself that her arm was still there, and wasn't about to unravel 
on her anytime in the future. 
	It was cruel to an extent--Nephrite readily acknowledged 
this. But what he subjected her to was mild by comparison of what 
some of the farseers of old were reputed to be capable of. The 
stronger she became, the more she learned to outwit the illusions 
he sculpted within his mind, the harder it would be for her to fall 
victim to the red-haired witch they sought.
	So far, it was proving true: Nephrite could not use the same 
attack on her twice. However, there were still so many attacks to 
chose from before she might actually succeed and breathe the 
thoughts he'd hidden away from her probing mind.
	"Remember what you've been taught," he told her over the 
roaring heavens. "Remember that you're not actually standing here. 
And more than anything: remember that I can be defeated."
	He gestured for her to come at him.
	She moved like the wind itself, moving at such a speed 
Nephrite had trouble tracking her. And then she was somewhere in 
the air over his head, her silhouette lost amidst the tumbling 
cascades of cherry blossoms. Nephrite threw himself aside moments 
before Mars drove her feet into the ground with such force that the 
earth caved in on impact. Nephrite rolled on his shoulder and came 
back up into a standing position. Warily he looked at the 
smouldering crater Sailor Mars was now standing in.
	She was excelling beyond anything he had ever seen. She 
growing closer to mastering the mindscape with each new tactic she 
had to defend against. Nephrite had been at this point before: so 
close to breaking through, so agonizingly far away from 
understanding. This was the hardest test for anyone. 
	Nephrite grinned in the heat of battle. Sailor Mars leapt 
into the air again, vaulting across the ground as if gravity no 
longer applied to her. Nephrite danced away as the tips of her feet 
nearly kicked him beneath the chin. Without losing any of her 
momentum, Sailor Mars was back on her feet. She raised her leg and 
brought her heel around, her shoe connecting with Nephrite's chin. 
Nephrite toppled sideways, blood flying from his lips. Sailor Mars 
refused to let up, taking the advantage for all she was worth. 
	She threw punches at any unguarded spot she could find. Every 
punch met with Nephrite's body, and he pinwheeled back and forth 
beneath her merciless attacks. Sailor Mars drove her elbow into his 
sternum, and Nephrite fell to the ground. The instant his body 
exploded touched the earth, it exploded into a puddle of water.
	Sailor Mars let out a startled cry and stumbled backwards as 
ice-cold water flew past her face. She stumbled right into 
Nephrite, who immediately picked her up off her feet and sent her 
flying wildly through the air. Seconds later she slammed into a 
sakura tree, and turned the solid trunk into a deluge of splinters 
as she smashed right through it.
	There was no final blow waiting for her as she crashed to the 
ground, coughing and gasping for air. Her entire body cried out as 
Nephrite slowly walked towards where she had fallen. Sailor Mars 
looked up at him with an expression racked by pain. 
	"Good. You're improving. However, do not forget you're 
invading my mind," Nephrite stated. "Don't be defensive, or else 
the advantage will always be mine. You need to attack, and always 
be attacking no matter what I throw at you." 
	Mars began the arduous and agonizing effort of pushing 
herself back up to her feet. "How many more times must we do this?" 
she muttered.
	"Once more," Nephrite stated, quoting his sensei. "Always 
once more."
	He allowed her to take whatever time was needed to stand back 
up.
	Mars steeled herself for the world to shift again, as it 
often did after she was soundly defeated, but this time everything 
was left unchanged. Cherry blossoms were everywhere, decorating her 
hair and her Sailor Soldier's uniform. The thunder tried to 
frighten her, and the lightning seemed to be striking everywhere at 
once. Sailor Mars, her uniform caked in dirt and mud, her body 
scratched and stained with trickles of blood, sucked in a great 
breath. She cracked her knuckles and charged at him. With all the 
speed and power she could muster, she drove one of her fists into 
Nephrite's chest. And with a sickening crunch, her fist shattered 
bone and flesh, and pushed right through his ribcage, her bloodied 
glove punching out through Nephrite's back.
	Sailor Mars swore, her eyes wide in alarm.
	Nephrite simply flashed her a wicked smile, showing no signs 
of pain, and his hands clamped down on Mars' wrist. Startled, 
Sailor Mars tried to pull out, pull away, and Nephrite held her 
fast in place. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "You 
can reshape anything and everything so long as you know how--even 
yourself."
	The ground shifted and became a giant mudpit. Nephrite burst 
into a shower of sakura petals, harmlessly blowing away. But the 
mud around Mars' boots hardened and refused to let her escape. The 
maw of the pit opened up and tried to swallow her whole. For a 
brief instant, sheer panic stabbed at her heart as she sank into 
morass and mire. And then the training took hold, reminding her 
that this wasn't real, it was only a mindscape, and could be 
undone. Sailor Mars focused her powers, focused her thoughts, and 
commanded the ground to be still. The mud burbled and shifted and 
suddenly became still.
	She had no time to smile over her success.
	Nephrite came from behind, driving his fist into her side. 
Unable to deflect the punch, Sailor Mars let out a strangled cry as 
she was pushed off the ground. Her arms instinctively wrapped 
around her chest. She stumbled sideways, colliding with a sakura 
tree. Nephrite's shadow was upon her in a heartbeat. Mars 
frantically threw herself aside as another punch from Nephrite 
barely missed her face and struck the tree instead. The entire 
trunk shuddered, and with an unnatural groan, the earth was torn 
apart as the tree flipped over on its side from the roots up.
	Sailor Mars took a few steps back, putting as much distance 
between her and Nephrite as she could in those few seconds. He was 
holding nothing back anymore; for the first time since he had begun 
to teach her, she realised how powerful Nephrite had become inside 
a mindscape. Nephrite looked away from the fallen cherry blossom 
and began moving towards her.
	She launched a Fire Soul attack at him. In previous battles, 
it had been one of her best attacks, never failing to fall Nephrite 
or at least slow him down. But she was not the only one improving 
from the sparring matches. This time, Nephrite found himself ready. 
As the enormous fireball roared towards him, Nephrite twisted his 
body and swatted the Fire Soul aside.
	The fireball corkscrewed out of control the air, finally 
smashing itself into one of the rows of trees. The ground beneath 
them shook violently as trees were blown apart and set ablaze. 
Flames and debris littered the air, thick plumes of black smoke 
billowing up into the air.
	The storms overhead seemed to take that as a signal, and let 
loose a maelstrom. Torrents of rain started to fall, without 
warning and without end. Both Nephrite and Sailor Mars were 
drenched within moments, the solid earth turning to one enormous 
puddle. A stray bolt of lightning streaked down from the heavens 
and ignited another sakura tree.
	Nephrite carefully watched Sailor Mars as they stalked on 
opposite ends of his mindscape. She was waiting for him to attack, 
intimidated by how ferocious this place had become. She had yet to 
understand that this place, and everything in it, even them, was 
nothing more than two people staring at each other inside the 
chamber of the Fire. What could be made in this construct, this 
illusion, could just as easily be unmade. 
	The red-haired witch herself had a mental construct: that 
strange room with her settee and the vaguely Lunarian-looking 
tapestries hanging from the walls. Nephrite feared to think what 
sort of illusions she might use against them, to break into their 
thoughts and secrets. Success could come only if Rei was at full 
strength.
	Mars' hesitation grew tiring, and Nephrite drew forth a 
katana from the air around him. 
	Sailor Mars took a step back as she saw the sword. "Hey, what 
is this?" she exclaimed.
	Nephrite casually surveyed the length of the blade. "And you 
think this will give me an advantage in this place?" His gaze 
flickered in her direction. "Do you really think my knowledge of 
swordsmanship has any meaning in here?"
	He swung the sword over his head, taking up a stance that had 
its savage tip aimed right for Mars' face. The katana multiplied 
and became a hundred, a legion of them hovering in the air around 
Nephrite.
	Sailor Mars' eyes widened.
	"If it ends here," Nephrite stated, "then when I defeat you, 
I will have full access into your mind. All your secrets will be 
laid bare. All your memories I will be privy to. If I was truly 
your enemy, this last attack would betray your friends, your family 
and your Queen. If I so desired, I would alter your memories, 
reshape your loyalty and make you my puppet." 
	He summoned the swords to answer his call.
	Rain flowed down their blades, dripped from their sharpened 
edges. Sailor Mars could almost hear a low, guttural snarl from the 
weapons. Nephrite watched her shift about, watched her desperately 
try to think up a counterattack or a defence. In a true battle 
between farseers, this sort of time to think would never be 
granted. With a shout, Nephrite drove the tip of his katana into 
the mud, a cascade of water erupting around him.
	The swords let out a collective roar and shot towards Sailor 
Mars.
	Frantic, she tried to dodge as many as she could. For as fast 
as she moved, the edges of the blades nicked and cut at her arms 
and legs. She let out a frustrated cry as another tore a slender, 
crimson line across her cheek. It seemed hopeless. It was hopeless. 
How could she even possibly pray to compete against this many 
flying swords? 
	And in a flash in inspiration, she understood.
	She straightened her stance and beheld the mindscape. The 
swords came at her--relentless and without mercy. Sailor Mars held 
out one of her arms, and summoned her powers. An inferno exploded 
from the earth beneath her, flames rising up to writhe around her 
form. 
	Nephrite stumbled backwards from the sheer intensity of her 
power. A wave of heat rolled past him, turning the rain upon his 
skin into steam. The entire sakura orchard was lit up like a 
furnace, reds and yellows and oranges dancing wherever he looked. 
Somewhere amidst the fury and the fire, Nephrite saw the silhouette 
of Sailor Mars.
	Something about her uniform was different. Something had 
changed.
	She had evolved.
	Super Sailor Mars watched the hundred swords cut through air 
and water as they swarmed towards her. In her eyes, there was no 
panic. No fear. No hesitation. She drew back one of her hands, and 
for one fantastic moment Nephrite could have sworn she was holding 
a bow forged of pure fire. 
	Over the din of the rain, he heard her call out: "Mars Flame 
Sniper!"
	An arrow of writhing flame was let loose. It scorched the 
air, and incinerated everything in its path. Swords were reduced to 
ash, and the ash reduced to nothingness. Nephrite threw his hands 
up in front of his face and gathered what winds he could to deflect 
the Flame Sniper. The attack struck his barrier, the explosion of 
the two forces ushering forth a cloud of dirt and smoke that tore 
apart whatever fragments of his mindscape had survived the battle 
to that point.
	Nephrite's eyes narrowed as the Flame Sniper pushed against 
his barrier, pushed him backwards through the mud. He could feel 
his control unravelling. The playing field of his mind was 
collapsing, everything falling apart. A power greater than his own 
was coming to greet him, to smash through whatever final mental 
defences hadn't been breached.
	Super Sailor Mars came for him.
	Nephrite knew he had no chance. He stood and grimly waited 
for the final, devastating blow. Mars' hand slammed into his chest 
and lifted him off the ground, water spraying in all directions. 
The blow tore armour apart, cracked fragments scattering, and 
Nephrite's mindscape rippled as it was torn apart, its secrets laid 
bare. Everything changed. Super Sailor Mars saw a veil, black and 
thick, part before her.
	She saw into Nephrite's mind.
	She saw a little boy, frightened and bleeding, shivering 
beneath the shadow of his mother. The woman was hysterical and 
drunk, frightened and filled with hate. "Cursed!" she screamed at 
her child. "That's what you are! A bastard child, son of a devil!"
	Mars saw that mother kick the little boy--repeatedly, 
relentlessly. Blood was spattered all over the floor. The child's 
whimpers were strangled through gasps of air and pain.
	"Stop it!" his mother shrieked. "Stop looking into my mind! I 
can feel you in there!"
	The child was struck across the face, blood dribbling from 
his lips. His eyes were hollow, his expression vacant.
	"Everyone knows you're filthy! Everyone talks about you, 
about me!"
	In the cold, dark night he was forced to sleep outside with 
the animals, frightened and alone and crying tears that no one 
would wipe away. 
	"Demon seed! You are not my son! How dare you call me your 
mother!" 
	He was trying to stand, trying to reach out to her, crying 
for love, for a simple, single word of affection. He was thrown 
against the wall.
	"Why was I cursed with you?"
	He had been backed into a corner, his eyes pleading for 
mercy, for an explanation of why this was happening. All he 
received was the palm of her hand against his cheek. And again it 
struck. And again and again, the sounds tearing into Mars' ears.
	"Why?"
	A ceramic pot was thrown at the child, barely missing his 
head. Shards cut at his face and scratched his eyes. He stammered 
his apologies, insisted he didn't mean to look, it just happened, 
and he would be good if she would just give him a chance.
	"WHY?!"
	His arm was almost broken as he was wrenched from the floor 
and thrown against a table.
	"I HATE YOU!!!"
	And then suddenly Super Sailor Mars saw that same little boy 
standing over his mother's corpse, tears streaming down his 
expressionless face, a bloodied knife held tightly in his hands. 
There was blood everywhere. Mars felt the urge to vomit. Her throat 
clenched, her stomach heaved.
	And she was on all fours in the chamber housing the Fire, 
unable to hold it back. She threw up, her entire body threatening 
to shake itself apart. She felt unclean, impure, as if she had just 
violated something sacred.
	Nephrite's hands came to rest upon her shoulders. "It's all 
right," he said to her. "This sort of thing happens when you're not 
prepared for it. The nausea will pass. It will get easier with time 
and practice."
	Rei wiped away some of the vomit on her chin with the sleeve 
of her priestess' uniform. It was only a uniform, and would be 
washed soon enough. Her stomach continued to churn in unpleasant 
ways. Carefully, Nephrite helped her sit back and gave her some 
space to recover. 
	The ill taste of bile lingered in the back of Rei's mouth. 
She turned her head towards Nephrite He looked as if nothing had 
happened.
	"What did you see?" he asked her.
	He didn't know. He didn't remember.
	With a smile, Nephrite rested his elbows on his knees and 
said, "You tore apart my barriers like they were nothing more than 
a child's wall of wooden blocks."
	If Rei didn't know any better, she detected an almost 
paternal pride in his voice. "Has it happened to you before?" she 
asked.
	He shook his head. "No, not so violently. Only my old sensei 
was capable of it, but because of my age when he taught me, he was 
always very careful with his technique. I left to serve Endymion's 
father before I could reach a level of mastery that required my 
sensei to attack my mind with all he had. And in all my travels, I 
have yet to meet his equal. I know what it's like to break into a 
mind, but this is the first time I've suffered at the hands of 
another farseer." 
	Nephrite sighed, and satisfied that Rei had recovered, he sat 
back on the floor. "All these years, I've been meaning to go back 
and learn more, to challenge that crotchety old bastard one more 
time. And every time something else has come up. When we go back 
home, I will visit him."
	He spoke with a determination that made it a promise, and not 
merely a wish.
	"When will you go back?" Rei asked.
	"I don't know. When this is over, when all the possibilities 
have dried up and led to nowhere. When we find this woman. I don't 
know." Nephrite stared at the Fire, almost entranced by the dance 
its flames seemed to perform. "You didn't answer my question," he 
said at last. "What did you see?"
	There were so many answers she could have given, so many 
brutal truths to plunge into his heart, and so many different lies 
to choose from. Rei brought herself to look at the young man 
sitting on the floor next to her. 
	"You don't want to know," she stated, and meant it.
	Nephrite's face lost all expression as he watched her with 
disturbing intensity. Finally, he looked away. "I can only guess 
there's a valid reason I cannot recall anything of my childhood."
	He was surprised when Rei's hand gently came to rest upon 
his. "You should know," she said in a quiet voice," that your new 
life is better than your old one. Don't take what you have for 
granted." 
	Nephrite found himself oddly touched by her words, and the 
smile he gave to her was one of rare sincerity. Even he could feel 
it as he looked at the priestess before him. "I will," he agreed, 
and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
	Only the crackling of the Fire could be heard.


			*	*	*
	Zoicite collapsed to his knees, and forced himself to swallow 
back the bile building up in his throat. His entire body shook from 
exhaustion. His muscles were sore and overheating. A sheen of sweat 
covered his skin, and soaked his hair and uniform. He felt ready to 
vomit, if he didn't pass out first.
	"We should stop for tonight," Cioran's voice came drifting in 
the air. "You've reached your limit."
	They stood in one of the Seraphim Order's hidden chambers, 
and as far as Zoicite could tell, the stone ceiling was lurking 
somewhere in the darkness that had swallowed it up. Torches lined 
the walls, some burning blue, others burning yellow-orange. 
Cascades of water ran down the far end of the chamber in a series 
of helter-skelter waterfalls, and flooded the floor to halfway up 
their calves. 
	Zoicite's eyes opened up, and with every tenacious and 
stubborn scrap of being he could muster, he raised himself to his 
feet. Bad enough it was almost midnight; he'd parted ways at the 
masque with Ami, and come straight here. At the end of an already 
busy day, he didn't have a lot of energy left.
	"You shouldn't push yourself," Cioran said evenly. He stood 
not four or five steps away, his arms crossed over his chest. 
"You've excelled faster than most Seraphim initiates when given the 
same training. But everyone has a breaking point, and if you pursue 
this exercise any further, you will only harm yourself. As it is, 
you've missed half the masque by now, and it would be a miracle if 
you survived attending the remainder of it. Or is that what you've 
been planning all along?"
	"I'll let myself rest when I'm dead," Zoicite muttered in 
Terran-Nihongo.
	Cioran obviously understood the language; he let out a bark 
of laughter.
	"Truly you would make a great Seraphim," he said, "but let's 
not kill you before you can make an even greater name for 
yourself."
	"I can do it," Zoicite stated.
	Without asking Cioran for any further assistance, he turned 
to the far end of the chamber, where the waterfalls tumbled and 
splashed onto the pool. Zoicite turned his gaze to the palm of his 
hand, and focused his every thought and action.
	An abrupt pulse of energy moved through his body. A second 
pulse echoed in the air round him, responding to the sudden burst 
of energy from his body. Zoicite's eyes narrowed, and he focused on 
synchronizing the pulses even closer. The water flowing around his 
feet bubbled and frothed. It shimmered with an ethereal light and 
began to rise up in surging coils around him. Zoicite could feel 
the water fight and writhe. It wanted to erupt, to explode and 
rampage wherever it wanted to. Suddenly Zoicite knew what the water 
wanted: it wanted to drown him.
	"You can sense the power within the water, and the power 
within yourself to control it," came Cioran's voice. Cioran was 
slowly walking around him, allowing Zoicite enough room to 
manipulate the water without interruption. "Some might call it 
magic. Others might call it telekinesis. Regardless of what names 
it might be given, you have the potential to call to it...and have it 
answer you."
	Zoicite began to close his palm, curling his fingers to make 
a fist. The coils of water spiraling around him looked more like 
liquid serpents, and they were poised to strike him down. He could 
almost make out mouths and teeth lurking in each tendril.
	Cioran's voice echoed over the noise of the struggling water. 
"Names come and go. Titles fade into dust and obscurity. But this 
will always remain, for it is what you are summoning. It is power. 
Never forget that."
	All the strength he had been gathering was suddenly met with 
a resistance as equally fierce. The urge to vomit hit Zoicite so 
hard that he nearly fell. His knees buckled, but he forced himself 
to stay standing, and he refused to relax the clenching of his 
fist. There was the taste of blood in the back of his mouth. He 
ignored it. Zoicite cast his gaze up at the tendrils of water 
around him, and forced them closer.
	Against their better wishes, the coils bowed their heads and 
spiraled around each other. They fused with one another, and became 
a single orb of water. Ferocious ripples coursed across the round 
surface.
	Zoicite began to slowly, carefully, open up his fist.
	"Taming water is not as simple a task as anyone thinks," 
Cioran's voice told him. It now came from somewhere behind him.  
"It is wild, and it is unruly, and it has a will of its own. It 
calls no one 'master'. Those who bring it under their power quickly 
realize that the water will take revenge the first instant they 
lower their guard. Only fools think they are superior to the water, 
that they have everything under control."
	Zoicite could hear the pulses quickening. The water was fast 
spiraling into a frenzy--it no longer cared what it wanted to do. 
All it wished to do was be unleashed, to be given form and purpose. 
Zoicite showed the orb of water what he wanted it to become.
	The orb changed.
	It turned into a sphere of ice.
	And the sphere stretched itself out to form a long, 
crystalline shard.
	Zoicite waited a moment longer as the shard hardened, and 
with incredible speed he plucked it from the air and hurled it 
across the chamber. The shard cut through and water, and impaled 
the rocks hiding somewhere behind the waterfall. It stayed solid 
for a short time. All too quickly the shard rippled and melted away 
into water, where it was washed into the pool below.
	Zoicite could not hide his smile.
	Then he fell over sideways, on the verge of passing out. 
Cioran was suddenly standing next to him, helping him back up.
	"Told you I could do it," Zoicite muttered.
	"So I see," Cioran agreed, and helped carry Zoicite to the 
edges of the chamber. He set Zoicite down in the water, propping 
the Terran General up against the wall.
	"In time, you will be able to form ice and crystals by simply 
drawing the water out of the very air we breathe," Cioran said, and 
sat down next to Zoicite. "But even that takes the most skilled of 
Seraphim years to perfect."
	Zoicite's eyes were half-open; he was more than ready to 
slump over and fall into a deep, dreamless slumber. "How long did 
it take you?" he asked.
	"Sixteen months," Cioran replied. "Then again, I had an 
excellent teacher."
	"In that case," Zoicite said, managing a tired smile, "I'll 
master it in twelve and half months."
	"I look forward to it, "Cioran said. "However, we shall end 
tonight's session here. Once I drop you off, I'll have Hotaru 
summoned to your quarters. You will need her healing touch if you 
are to be well for tomorrow's training."
	"Won't we wake her up?" Zoicite mumbled.
	Cioran casually reassured him: "I'll handle the 
arrangements."
	They rested a little while longer, watching other acolytes of 
the order attempt to form ice crystals of their own. Slowly, Cioran 
helped Zoicite to his feet. With Zoicite's arm over his shoulders, 
Cioran began to the long, slow journey back to the guest suite. The 
last of Zoicite's strength was gone, and he was more like a limp 
rag doll as he was carried across the large pool of water.
	"You do show a surprising amount of skill. I had no idea you 
possessed any unique gifts like your friends," Cioran said as they 
left wet footprints on the palace floors behind them.
	Zoicite managed a shrug. "Not that I know of. Jadeite's got 
his eyes and Nephrite his farseeing. There's something strange 
about Kunzite, but he keeps those secrets to himself."
	"Still," Cioran said, "you have some latent skills that 
elevates you from the common Terran masses. I must admit being 
rather curious to finding out what that is." 
	"I spent most of my youth at a temple," Zoicite said, and 
yawned. "Learned a few things from some of the mystics and priests 
there, but nothing fancy." 
	Cioran's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "That still is a 
beginning. But you can tell me more later when you aren't ready to 
pass out and make me do all the walking."


			*	*	*
	Inside a deserted wing of the palace, within a forgotten 
pool, Lapis and Lazuli played with the ghosts of the Sailor 
Soldiers of old. They frolicked in the water and danced amidst the 
waves. Lapis cupped her hands together and forged the water into 
the shape of a small frog that went hopping along the surface of 
the pool. Lazuli watched the frog move past her, then slapped her 
hands together, crushing the frog in her palms. Water splashed down 
like blood.
	"It's fun being cleansed," Lapis giggled as she sent another 
water-frog hopping towards her twin.
	"Indeed," Lazuli agreed. Her eyes watched the bouncing frog. 
"It makes me want to go out and stain myself with blasphemy all 
over again."
	The water-frog hopped into the air once more, and this time 
Lazuli caught it in her hand, slowly squeezing her fist tighter and 
tighter. The water-frog struggled and thrashed in vain, desperate 
to escape. Seconds later it let out a gurgle and imploded into 
droplets of water. Lazuli brought her wet fingers up to her mouth, 
her tongue snaking out and licking off the water.
	"What should we do though?" she said. "We're still not 
allowed to play outside very much."
	Lapis sat back in the fountain. Her sandy-blonde hair drifted 
leisurely about in the pool. "I should like to dine on the tears of 
a princess," she remarked after a moment spent debating her whims.
	"I should like to dine on her eyes," Lazuli added.
	"But we'll have to decide which girl we want first, "Lapis 
said. "White wine only goes well with blue eyes, after all."
	The two turned their attentions to the edge of the pool as 
Beryl strolled up to the water's edge. Beryl knelt down, and the 
twins cut through the water to meet her.
	"Plotting death and assassinations so late in the day, my 
loves?" Beryl asked them.
	"Well, there's not much else for us to do," Lapis said with a 
huff.
	"Yes," Lazuli agreed, pouting. "You never let us go out and 
play anymore."
	Beryl smiled and reached out to caress their cheeks. "You're 
being a little too brazen, my loves," she told them. "They're 
starting to notice you. Especially the demon-eyed one, which could 
be problematic."
	"It can't be helped," Lazuli said, and stuck out her lower 
lip. "The allure of the palace is wearing off on them. It's hard to 
hide behind splendour and mystery when they know how to look past 
it." Her lips curled into a dark smile, her tongue gliding along 
her lower lip. "I rather enjoy these Generals seeing our shadows. 
The Lunarians have all come to dismiss us as innocent paranoia. 
It's so delicious to be feared again."
	"True as that may be," Beryl said, her tone now with an added 
air of authority, "things are falling into place and I would as 
soon not have to hasten our plans. Endymion and Serenity are 
becoming closer than I could have ever hoped for. Soon it will be 
time to unleash our weapon, and set the final stage of this game in 
motion. And I will not see any part of it placed into jeopardy 
because you two couldn't resist teasing our visitors."
	Beryl paused and glanced over her shoulder. She was expected 
elsewhere, and would soon need to put in another appearance. 
	"We're not the only ones growing restless," Lazuli said. "The 
Queen Mother is stirring and wants her supper."
	Lapis nodded in agreement. "She does not like the dungeon 
walls--they scratch at her face so harshly."
	"Do not worry either of yourselves with Metalia," Beryl 
stated, slowly rising to her feet. "I will see to her needs 
personally."
	Lapis' eyes flickered in colour, changing briefly from hazel 
to amber. "She's getting closer," Lapis whispered. "Our Snow Queen 
will soon make her appearance."
	Beryl nodded. "I know. And no one in the palace has noticed 
yet--something I will have to remedy. For now, let's give her the 
chance to play with the Lunarians. It will provide a most amusing 
distraction for the rest of this planet. And who knows? They may 
just mistake her for me, and seal me in a coffin before checking to 
see that I'm actually dead."
	The twins giggled.
	"Ooh, I like death," Lazuli said, splashing at the water. "It 
whets my appetite and makes me want to lick my lips in 
anticipation."
	Lapis turned to her sister. "I could lick your lips instead."
	"Only if I can devour your eyes first," Lazuli said.
	Lapis wagged a chiding finger at her twin. "Naughty, naughty 
sister. You never eat the eyes of the one you love on the first 
date."




	The dance continues soon with the demons & the darkness...





Sailormoon, its characters, struggles and story, are copyright and 
the children of Naoko Takeuchi. No recognition of my story can be 
made without giving her proper recognition first. There are 
original characters in my story (Halcyon, Spinel, Cioran and the 
twins at this moment), and if you wish to make use of them I'd 
rather you asked first rather than after the fact.


Close, personal thanks goes out to: Mel, the Fic Bitch and Meara, 
who all helped to rein in this chapter while it tried to stampede 
out of control; and to Aphrael, who never is lacking for a 
recommendation of a few good fics to read.
 

My sincerest appreciations to Andrea & George for creating, 
updating, maintaining and revising 'A Sailormoon Romance.' 
(www.moonromance.net) It is good to know that so many wonderful 
stories will always have a home at ASMR, and it is a good home I 
will always enjoy coming back to.


Email Chaos at: hislordshipchaos@hotmail.com







	ON ELYSIAN


Atlantis. Xanadu. Shangri-La. Eden.

Every civilization has its own legends about a paradise realm, a 
place where evil cannot tread. It is a world of purity and beauty. 
It is not of the earth, yet it hides upon it somewhere, cloaked by 
a veil of dreams and illusion. 

Many other "paradise" legends are far older; the first stories to 
mention Elysian by name are no more than four hundred years old. 
Yet of them all, Elysian stands out as unique distinction. Varied 
accounts record witnesses who claimed to have journeyed into a 
fantastical dreamworld while they slept. Many of them were 
children, naturally prone to wild imaginations. There are tales of 
wolves and masquerades, of dragons and strange human-like creatures 
described only as "raven angels". And watching over them all, 
though rarely seen by any of the dreaming witnesses: an enigmatic 
boy with white hair and golden eyes.  

Yet beyond such tales, there is no other proof that such a paradise 
even exists. Kings have led armies into vast, nameless jungles and 
deserts, and returned empty-handed. Farseers have divined the 
stars, and sought out the minds of people who claimed to have 
visited Elysian in their dreams, and came back with no answers. 

Some believe the myth of Elysian to be based on some historical 
city that has long been buried beneath the sands of time. Many, 
Terran and Lunarian, have gone hunting for such ruins. Most met 
with nothing. Some met with disaster. 

Elysian could be the work of imaginative children and hopeless 
romantics. It has been debated and discussed, and in many cases, 
discounted as mere myth. Yet if Elysian does indeed exist, it has 
hidden itself very well, and protected itself even better. Like so 
many legends, the truth behind it may never be uncovered. 

Or else the truth is lying closer than anyone knows...