Trying to move more quickly than they could react-- brought his mind away from the water altogether, and she gathered it with ease to rush for him with crushing force.

Her influence would fill every crack. Every crevice. A cyllinder of water-- much easier to maintain than this thrashing all around her-- would push against him, erasing every hope of movement; and he was lucky that she was without her partner on that night.

The force of impact was insanity alone. Pheim sneering in his head was something beyond that and the pain was too much. Some demon of the Abyss... Something he wasn't prepared for. What kind of thing was it that existed in the world. What kind of beast was she? No one at the warlock temple of dark arts were allowed to keep pets. Most were just fledgelings. So what the hell.

It was fight or flight instinct. One that kicked in as soon as the water struck him. Run.

Pop...

Darkness. So much pain. Achiem squealing the most degenerative words he could speak in the old tounges.

"AHHH!!!!" Gregori had nulled many of his barriors. Why? The Iridej warned him. That's for sure. So why did this hurt? It was becoming too much.



Syvetta traversed these caves with much ease. It was a long lasting custom of her adopted fathers. She was here to ask no questions. To beg no forgiveness. To seek no answers. Syvetta was here because she must be. Well, -that- and the fact that before her sat a little over one thousand stone soldiers. The Terra Cota Army hid within these caverns. She couldn't help but smile. The five were falling. Soon she would take these soldiers to march.

First she needed to finish striking along the trade roots. Those were the quickest of gatherings. The fastest way of building such a condensed army. The irony? The Terra Cota was composed of many an An'I. More so, over eighty percent was all fallen Aesir. Syvetta even managed to go back and gather some more of Caithiann's hell rider's that had fallen in her sand storm a while back in Deep Forest. This was war after all.

Today was the custom ritual of bringing clay to 'he who mold's'. Soon she would be gone but this ritual was one of the very few where she had relized her potential as an alchemist and she would not spite the god's gift by condemning a ritual as old as the Dwarves that had taken care of her. Even in times of war. Even if this process was a few months long. Syvetta would adhere to her customs.

As she sat down for what would be the final time is when she heard it. A scream. The clanging of metal against stone. The screech and reverbration of ancient alchemic power seeped throughout the cavern. Even older power rang with it. That of pain was the most common for Syvetta. She was still having a hard time coming to terms with everything that she had done. Even when she had thought herself ready. She didn't hesitate to help.

With alchemic force beneath her the ground shook and sent her flying. Her legs moved with anger as the ritual had made them prone to standing for too long a time. Syvetta hissed through it. Someone needed her help. It was a man. The second scream of pain confirmed it.



Footsteps could be heard ringing in the darkened depths of the cavern. The pain was forcing tears to well up in his eyes. Where the hell was he. Kilik thrashed again. His control on the demon gem was fading. The young magi could swear he could hear Achiem smiling. Slamming the sword against the wall for the sixth time was what did it. A spark of fire, the flash of alchemical gems. The gems screwed with his teleportation. It was the only thing that made sense.

Rare gems that caused him to lull between distances. The gem seemed to be melting from it's eternal grip on the diekatana. Screw it. Kilik threw the blade in frustration. Except for one thing. The blade didn't stay attached to his hand via the gem. Acheim kept silent but a general understanding of amusement as the magi's body started to flicker.

"NO!"

"FUCKING FOOL! A treasure lost to the depths and time once again."

pop...



The sword could still be heard clattering within the caverns. Syvetta couldn't help but snatvh it up. Hold onto it. Had shefinally completed the ritual? Was this a test of the gods? The diekatana coursed within her hands. It surged and roared with ancient power. Bequeathing to her knowledge of something long since lost to time.

The real question would be... Could she adhere to the rules of alchemy and to the will of the gods?