Silence rammed the city of Henruf. Not a soul wept and not a soul drowned in the depths of their sleep. The high moon that rose above the city made sure of it. The city made not a single movement as if afraid to be judged by the moon's ever great beauty. Down, the largest road in the heart of the city raced a war carriage of strong black steel. Shadowed by the city's grand buildings. Fast it went down the town's oldest roads. No sparks of the pegasus's hoofs ignited the air as they ran and no noise was made by the carriage itself as it moved along the road. They moved more than silent ghosts, but more like fallen angels with no air to level their pace. The carriage continued to race deeper into the city, with the road guiding them into different twists and turns. The flying horses continued to run until it reached the end of the road, they came to a halt at a bridge, that broke the city into two. On the other side of the bridge lay a castle of clear glass that outstretched high into the clouds. Large bricks of thick granite swarmed the castle encircling it in the shape of a pentagon. The wall towered high, but not enough to hide the castle's marvelous architecture. 

The steeds stood where there waiting for someone to pull them in. A small door at the large, steel gate in the wall opened and a little figure walked out. The figure continued to walk across the bridge. The moonlight sparkled his dark grey wings, leaving him with wings that glint of fairy dust light. He wore an official uniform: a dark mahogany red shirt that grew until his knees and was cut on his sides for easy movement, and his pants a midnight black of thick cotton. A sword of chivalry lay at his side and a crest of twisted bloody wings lay on his shirt and on the back of his midnight black cape. 

As he got closer to the horses he saw their ghastly appearance: soulless black eyes, a coat blacker than the midnight sky, their hoofs blackened from running, and they breathed heavily from their long ride breathing out what seemed to be smoky. They weren't just the regular type of pegasus's that the kingdom had, they were ancient breeds fought only of those in wars and used to transport prisoners of high crimes. He stopped at the end of the bridge and glared at them. He looked up to the passenger's seat, and as should he expect no driver. He walked toward the steeds and counted five of them. The leading horse walked to him and bowed his head motioning the guard to come closer. The guard did. Once the guard was close enough, the leading steed lifted his head high showing the guard the reins to lead the steeds by. Nervously, the guard held onto the reins. The leading steed then huffed loudly and rose his left front leg and guided it down onto the stone floor. Sparks ignited as the tip of the hoof scratched the stone floor with a deep black scorch mark. The other horses responded and made the same igniting effect on the floor. The guard slowly stepped back cautiously as the horses scorched flying small flames from out of the ground with their hooves. And slowly walked with them across the bridge and into the castle.

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A long golden table sat across in the middle of a huge room made of crystallized, diamond bricks. The room was plain, with nothing but a chandelier sparkling the room with its glow. No paintings decorated the room to know its worth, no flowers bloomed the harmony of life, and no men stood guard the inside. All there was was the golden table and the chandelier. Silence was the only breathing tale told for a long time. Until tonight, a new sound was heard on the table, a coin ever so small, sounded the room with a high pitched rhythm. The rhythm sounded to be a song, playing over and over again. Repeating its riddle of tunes. 

A small wave of the sound broke into a tiny gap under a grand wooden door, made of light cherry oak. The sound continued to travel till it hit its target, the ear of the guard at the door. Puzzled by the weird high-pitch melody, the guard concentrated hard onto where the noise was coming from, the room of the Mardes's Crystals. Then his eyes widened and his hands rose to the doors of the room he was guarding and pushed it open. He looked around the room from where he stood undared to enter it. His eyes scanning every inch, near and far, until his eyes landed on the center of the table, the coin of Mardes. Chills of the dead climbed up his spine, sending his brain a shock to great to move after. But, the old guard pushed himself to move as he had no choice. His left hand blindly grabbed onto a spiral-shaped horn on his belt. He pulled it out of its hilt and rose it to his mouth and he blew the only melody they ever taught him. The melody of the coin.

The sound of the horn rang through all the walls of the castle. Alluding all who hear it of the melody that the song of the coin has been rung. 

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An old man sat in his bed, while a young maid fed him his dinner. Her hand rose again with another spoonful. His mouth widened slowly but stopped halfway. His eyes lit up and he closed his mouth. The maid smiled at him and waited for him to open his mouth, but instead was told to clear away breakfast. She did as told, without a second note and once it was removed off the bed. The old angel rose up with newly born strength. He headed towards his dressing room and ordered the maid to follow him.

He came out of the room dressed in long white robes and hung around him was a decorative golden cape with the bloody wings on the back. He stared at himself in the mirror. He knew what was to come. A prophecy they say, of darkened times of falling angels, rising once more to their days and unraveling the doom that all must pay. The prophecy etched deeper into his mind, as he remembered the past of where it led them. When one angel tried to make the prophecy alive. Betrayal. Mistrust. And, fallen angels with broken souls seized the day. But all failed to re-write and stop the prophecy. But tonight he knew there was something more than just the sound of the horn. He knew because as he looked in his own eyes he saw the tale of his life in the future's time. He saw it as he stared in his eyes his own death, his kingdom in flames and the prophecy told once more of the coin. "He has finally come", he whispered softly. 

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Guards marched single-file as the members of the High Driza walked solemnly one by one towards the room of the Mardes Crystal's. Once they arrived at the cherry doors that were now closed, the oldest of the High Driza walked towards the guard. He moved lightly towards the guard until he met him face-to-face, and asked him, "For what reason have you sounded the horn. Is it truly the coin or an accident with deeply, regretted consequences." The old angel peered down at the guard's golden yellow wings and touched them softly, revealing what the cost of a possible regret will sell him entirely. The High Driza looked at him intensely.

The guard stood in his place, with a slight intensity of fright in his eyes. But he knew better than to show how frightened he really was. He breathed lightly and began, " It is the coin, Driza Laoym. It has sung its melody. The Driza looked at the guard with eyes of more than shadowing fright, but of his soul breaking from his body. He looked at the eyes of the guard deeply and saw his loyalty for his kingdom was put first and his death a prize to be sold for.

A noise from the room sounded, ever so briefly. The old Driza looked at the two nearest guards to the door and with a flick of his hand, the guards opened the grand door. A wave of cold air greeted them. The high-tuned melody sounded louder and louder as it spun faster and faster. The wind chimes from the crystal chandelier shook with the coin's song. And, the old Driza stood silently as he listened to the song. He walked past the guards and into the room. He continued to walk towards the table. His hands touched the soft and very cold surface of the glass table and his carried itself towards the shiny gold coin. He saw it spin in a frustrated manner, gaining more and more speed as the old angel's eyes continued to stare at it. Its song continued to sing louder and higher. It pierced the ears of everyone nearby. To the point, the ears of the old angel, himself were bleeding from the high frequency. Then it stopped and as fast as it started it stopped. The eyes of the High Driza watched it as it fell onto the glass table.  An image lay on the face of the coin, staring up directly at the Driza. The hands of the old one picked up the coin, and as he did he hummed the rhythm of the coin. His eyes studied the coin's face and he realized that the face has changed and there lay an angel of his kin. One he knew was lost but found to be the ghost of not the dead but his life. . . . A Derna Guardian - Jeremy.