Back to lifeTime. Time ? No. Time had lost all meaning. There was no time. There were just the fields.
Hazel sat beneath her tree and watched other souls condemned to a empty existence on the fields of Asfodel. She knew she should be glad she still had her memory, whereas every other soul in Asfodel couldn’t remember one thing, not even the own name. But it also hurt. She always had her happy time with Sammy in front of her eyes. And she knew those days would never return.
As always, a child of Pluto, Lord of the Underworld, was both a curse and a blessing.
To add tot he pain of her happy memories, she also remembered the day she died. The day her world sank into black oil. The day she killed her mother and herself.
A shudder ran down her spine as she once more remembered her conversation with the three judges. Taking into account everything that had happened, Hazel was judged to a eternal life in Elysium, the paradise in which the deceased heroes dwelled, while her mother was se
Sent from the mystic moon
a girl, bearing a feath’ry crown
with eyes to see what lies ahead
she enters on the battlefield
Waking the dragon’s slumber
kindling the gleaming ember
she needs to choose the path
either to destruction or rebirth
and with a flap of her wings
through fire and visions
walking at Lady Fortuna’s side
the swing of the pendulum echoed
she leads the land of Gaea
to a lightfilled era
leaving as only thing behind
memories and feathers of splendid white
Dream of the little lionNight had fallen over Sanctuary. It was late autumn, and the still warm night air bore the first touch of the arriving cold.
A small figure covered with a cloak silently strode upwards on the stairs oft he Zodiac. He walked determinedly, making clear he had a goal. It wasn’t totally cold, but the cloak he wore wasn’t supposed to shield him from an outside cold.
The cold came from inside.
An impressive stone building appeared above. The figure let out a sigh of relief. He had arrived. It hurried towards the entrance. On the rooftop above, a centaur statue was keeping guard.
The temple of Sagittarius.
The figure showed its steps as it reached the first columns of the entrance. While walking inside, it slipped back its hood, revealing light-brown curls.
Slowly, the boy made his way into the temple’s hallways.
,Brother… I’m here again.‘
His steps echoed lonely through the stone corridors. They were lit by a few torches, giving him enough light. Finally,
Live with strenght
Rain poured down as if the Great Flood was breaking out anew.
Teneo stared out into the grey world. He, Sarinsa and Saro had been able to find shelter beneath some rocks. One week had passed since their mentor, Taurus Aldebaran, had been killed by Specters. They had been training, when the clouds that had been visible on the sky, closed and started shedding their heavy load. Within seconds the three trainees were soaked. They ran to the closest shelter available, which was beneath some closeby rocks. Now they waited fort he rain to cease. Teneo and Sarinsa sat next to each other, leaning against the wall. Saro, asleep from exhaustion, lay in Teneo’s lap, while Sarinsa clutched his hand tightly.
„Curse them“, Teneo muttered.
Sarinsa looked at him. „Teneo…“ Worry lay on her face and in her voice.
„Curse them!“, he yelled. „ Curse them! Curse them!“
He felt tears streaming down his cheeks. He didn’t care. The pain wa
A world in flames
tyrant Brittania rules
a boy of royal blood
to take the sword
to take up the fight
and to save it
through bloodshed and tears
through pain and darkness
the only path led
which he willingly walked
the destiny of the king
where loneliness is waiting
a lamb to be slaughtered
a sacrifice to the peace of the world
fullfilled by his braves warrior
with the cursed mask forever to wear
thus, with the hatred of the world
upon his shoulders united
the blade ended his task, his mission
taking with him evil’s shadow lurking
his hands destroying worlds and creating them anew
by the sparkle of a new morning’s dew
Haunting questionsWhat do you see, Shaka?
What do you see?
There is blood in the Ganges. Corpses float down the stream.
Why are you so upset?
The blood… the pain… I don’t understand.
Why is that pain?
Why is that?
I DON’t KNOW!!!
With a yelp the boy shot up in his bed. He panted as he tried to calm his racing heart.
No, not a dream. It was a memory from his past, before he came to the Sanctuary. The question…
Shaka was a indian boy. He had spent the first years of his childhood in Kalkutta, the city at the Gan-ges. Often he was found sitting at the riverside, meditating. Back then already he felt the murmured rumours. A little child, four years old, meditating almost the entire day? There was hardly even a full-fledged monk who did this. He was special, the voices whisper. What was it he could hear in them? Was it fear? Or was it amazement?
Oh, if they knew. The questions were forced upon him when he was three years old. S