When she had first became Destrim's assistant, Luistia learned everything he taught her. She loved the Tower and Gardelle and dreamed of becoming a powerful Wizard Knight who could protect Gardelle from all harm. That dream had died quickly, as well as almost all of his lessons. They faded into wisps of memory. One lesson, though, she couldn't forget. The difference between Quality and Quantity. She couldn't remember everything he said, but as she stood before a room encompassed by deadly magic, Luistia suddenly remembered his words.

Time holds a series of opportunities that only those with the eyes of knowledge can see. The verity is irrefutable, leaving those very people open to the death of time. Magic is the same, as it holds the truth of all lives lived and all people to find themselves alive upon the barren landscape of humanity. Quality, oftentimes, is second best to the quantity of magic. So similar words that no one cares to learn the difference behind them.

Quality makes magic smooth and nice. It allows for safety and no diligence can ever make up for the safety of quality magic.

Quantity, unlike quality, does the opposite. While in abundance, as it could in no way not be, it makes everything hectic. Worse than chaotic. A fever of ever spinning magic that was caught in desperation. Quantity had been the necromancer that unleashed a force of evil--of darkness, of hatred--upon the world. The colors of nightfall, sunrise, the colors that crafted all souls and all stars was moving. A human lit center, forever trapped by the force of it all. Holding that much power, that unhealthy quantity, was the child's death.

A sacrifice had been made.

The demonic dragon creature, with scales of ice and fire, with soulless eyes, with claws that could kill all easily, let out a breath of magic that rang out and burnt the ceiling. It was the size of ten men put together and it had an odd aura about it that faded in and out to the beating of a heart.

Aritemes had only a second or two to take it all in. He knew what to do. Kill it! Like Luistia had told Elesen, it was time. No more waiting.

Swallowing hard, he screamed and ran inside the room. His sword began to melt as it glowed red hot and fell from his hands. Flesh, singed as it was, didn't hurt as bad as the smite to his face that sent him hurdling against the wall. "Stay back," he shouted to his companion, "it's too-"

Cyliaria's laugh, if one could call that heinous sound that, stopped his words in his throat. Pink slipped from the light's core, illuminating the room once again before it choked him. It was worse than his curse, acting up to make his lungs burn and itch as they lost the ability to move air properly. Aritemes's fingers fumbled at the pink that was his noose, unable to get it off.

"Thought you could fix things?" She made that noise again. It caught in her vocal cords and distorted itself between the echoes inside of the room. "How sad. That small, pathetic magic mine sister tried working with entirely wasted."

"St-" His trial cut off all words. The light danced before him and pink--in all its vanity--ate away at him, slowly bringing him closer to the edge. Only he could decide to summon his pathetic magic to attempt another fight or let it be drained as he died. A vision of beauty stood cold in the doorway still. She has to succeed. At the sight of her scared face he continued to hold on. "No."

Arabelle reached for her charge only to be pulled back by her neck. Cyliaria laughed again at her sister. Bruises had formed as a result of the magic inside of her being sucked dry. They spotted the skin of her neck, face, and body, battering her. Greedily, Cyliaria licked every ounce she got, feeling the warmth tingle inside of her skin. "Aritemes," Arabelle pleaded, "don't let her control-"

"Sister, sister. Pathetic! Pathetic. Cannot you save you?"

Still, Arabelle beckoned for him. Whatever words of advice or warning were lost as Cyliaria dug her nails deeper into Arabelle's flesh. A gasp then nothing but silent screams. The light squirmed then went back to its blazing fury. If anyone were to close their eyes they would be able to see the barest form of a human still alive inside. All that was left were her innermost thoughts and secrets that made up who she was and who she aspired to be. An image, but never the same as before.

At that slight shift Luisita was brought back to reality. "Give her back!" she cried out, "You can't have her!" The magic infused inside of her added an edge of darkness to each word.

Laughing, Cyliaria let go of her sister and slammed Arabelle into the wall. Her nails dug in, scraping away old paint, and left streaks of white on the concrete. With a grin she told the light to kill Luistia. No! Move, Luistia. Fight it! Mist, that very same most that swirled around the now burning Tower in the very beginning of summer, circulated around the room.

Cyliaria's words worked.

The light held out a stream of gray which caught the dragon by the neck and it attacked Luis. The creature bit at her, missing Luisita's head by mere inches. She could smell the sulfur and burning wood. Densely it formed waves in the air only to be separated by the sharp talons of the demonic dragon. Ducking, Luistia let out a small yell and fell to the floor. Her knees bruised.

Magic could only heal her and renew her energy. It was quality, strong as the lives of three magicians. The life of Amelia, sweet and caring as she was. Her strong brown eyes and her resolve to live a life filled with thoughts of others and never of herself. A will to serve a kingdom that she'll never get to live inside. Her magic was soft yet firm, constantly reminding Luistia not to give up. You can do this, her magic said.

"Just die," Cyliaria shouted. Her eyes, entirely gray, flickered as the light began to move again. From inside of it came the softest cry of pain. A soul, trapped.

Elesen's life, his magic, flowed too through her. Once he had been scared and broken, uncertain of everything. Now he had grown. He was strong. Older. Brave, even though he was still scared and uncertain at times. Ready to face the world. Ready to face everything. His magic was tough and, despite all his insecurities about it, held true to her. A constant reminder of their journey together, of their friendship that couldn't help but bind them. His magic spoke as well, Brave be you. Weak is to sit there and watch your kingdom fall apart and do nothing.

The dragon's teeth ripped shreds off of her chest. The material flapped open as her skin was bloodied. It ran down her stomach, stitching in with the silvery magic.

Then there was the crisp magic that smelt of burnt grass and lemon seed. Lemosta. Destrim's magic, old as time, was powerful where the others could not be. It was her cloak of mist, her protection, her makeshift father. He didn't need to say anything, his presence was enough for her.

Luistia closed her eyes and breathed them in. They were alive. They wouldn't die. She'd succeed and return their magic, allowing all to heal. She had to. Her fingers searched the ground until she met the tip of Aritemes's sword. It was wet with his blood but she didn't care. She gripped it hard, almost enjoying the rush of pain that accompanied the blade's edge. "Die," she whispered. Her voice wasn't her own. It was the kingdom of Gardelle and Patrall, as one, fighting to win.

Hot flashes through her as talons swiped and tore chunks from her arm. Luistia didn't stop. The colors grew brighter, blinding her. She didn't stop. Furrows deepened on Cyliaria's face as she yelled obscene words at the girl. Luistia still didn't stop.

Mirianette.

The young girl had to be in there, in the light. She was dying if not already dead. Consumed. They'd taken away everything Luistia had ever cared about. Her sister. Love and pure, even though she exhausted Luistia and gave her headaches. Mirianette had held her hands in times needed. The entire journey was to keep her safe, to protect her. Luistia had failed. Nothing could save her now. All she could do was strike the dragon over and over, but even that was useless. Nothing was wounding it for long. It regrew body parts by the dozen and blew out red and burgundy from its nose.

Luistia's wounds ached with each movement as the magic began to slow and fade away. Even quality couldn't outlast quantity, and the dragon wasn't anywhere near finished. Pain enveloped her and overwhelmed her as tears fell proudly. Her fingers trembled and tightened upon the blade, watching with widened eyes as droplets of blood splattered against the ground, painting it and smearing as she failed to stand again.

That small cry again sounded. Mirianette. She was still there. Still fighting. Unable to escape the grasp of dark magic.

Luistia shuddered out a breath and stood to her feet. She yelled again, inhumane, and ran on shaking feet to strike the dragon. The light, wholly controlling it, shifted and gray moved in a flash as the dragon became bigger and pushed her back down. Bones popped in a sick loudness. Cyliaria relished in the noise.

Her voice was mocking, "Oh, do stand up again! Fight, pathetic girl, fight!"

Try as she might, Luistia couldn't ignore her. Her body was sore and tough as the muscles that once were so healthy refused to work. The earlier poisoning had taken so much from her, and magic only went so far.

Each time she stood she was pushed back down harder. Cyliaria's boasting only grew as it became obvious who was in control. "I won! I won! You no won! You fail," she said, "pathetic girl fail. No sister for you. Sisters are useless. Pathetic. Ha!"

Weak, injured, and broken Luistia tried her hardest to rise again. Each second sapped her strength worse and the magic couldn't keep up with her injuries anymore. She attacked and attacked, constantly swinging, feeling the air work against her and grow stronger as she only grew in weakness.

"You lose!"

Finally, the ever larger dragon let out a sound metallic and cruel and flung her against the wall in frustration. Claws extended, it stood before her in glory. She hit her head and saw the night sky.

A hand touched hers as the light once again grew too bright to stand. Aritemes gave her a weak smile, his face blue and red. His smile held sorrow behind compare and her battered face mimicked it well. He's alive. It didn't feel real. Nothing felt real anymore. The magic, the pain, everything. His touch was gentle. Kind. Luistia let go of her hatred towards him, unable to even recall the experience anymore. She understood.

His mouth opened and closed but there was no sound. There wasn't time anyways. Cyliaria had grown bored of them, and the dragon was ready to feast. Even if Luistia could somehow manage the strength to stand again she didn't think she could do what she had to. Killing the dragon, truly killing it, was killing Mirianette.

"Ready to die, children? You just beginning," she told them with a wicked chuckle. "Soon whole world die too! Only I prosper. I rule over all. I Queen. I Goddess."

Aritemes gasped as she released his neck and allowed him to breathe in the sweet joys of air. His gaze went back to Luistia, still an image of harsh beauty in his eyes. He closed them and allowed his heart to fall out in wet drops. They had seconds if they were to move yet alone neither could do it. They couldn't kill the light.

Aritemes began to whisper breathy words. It was a song, almost. A love song. A hate song. A fight song. It was everything inside of him that had ever been alive. It was everything he could give. His soul, his magic, even the smallest bits were summoned.

No time to stop him, Luistia was hit full force by the magic. It ran through her soul and jittered. Spurts of energy suddenly became a tsunami. Raging, unstoppable, too quick to name. Luistia's face was wet but no longer by blood.

"Dontium este luchi," she whispered. A spell to draw fire, and the blade caught and burnt down to her arms. More! I need fire, lots of it. She couldn't comprehend where the words cams from. They were inside her but they weren't her. "Dontium este luchi."

Faster! Raise your sword high, Luistia.

She grit her teeth and held the sword high and even, her strength barely there. More words entered her heart and she said them aloud, telling each word as she ran forward. Don't make this all for nothing. You have to, Luistia!

"Dontium rofeulla esint, Osteri abagu. Lentiusta, Orb of Els, dontium este luchi!"

Her sword drove itself deep inside the magic, sliding right past the dragon. Both girls cried out and Luistia knew that a knife had been plunged deep inside her heart as well. Fire and magic combusted, shattered violently, and shook the entire castle. Parts of the roof crackled and collapsed. Colors imploded and burst against each wall. Blue, indigo, orange, green, pink...but mostly purple, in all its darkness, lined the walls.

Cyliaria screeched and grabbed the freed dragon by the back and jumped upon it. Her sister lay basically dead against the wall and she didn't bother to look back, instead casting her gaze upon Luistia's shocked face. "I'll kill you," she threatened, "Once I get my magic I'll kill you all! You won't get away!"

At that the dragon flew upwards and broke through the rest of the ceiling. Daylight streamed through, only to be broken by the last remaining clouds of a storm never to be forgotten.

Luis fell on top of Mirian, who's been stabbed through her chest and bleed in gushes of red. She left the sword there, not knowing if she should pull it out or not. Mirianette's body was crouched up in the fetal position and she cried into her sister's neck, tears staining the ground.

The magic left inside of Luis sputtered and began to stream out of her in long tendrils. It stretched and curved delicately in the air only to flow back to those it belonged to. Pain, rich and unfiltered, carved out her thoughts and left Luistia scarcely able to breathe. Convulsions shook down to her core as a fever spread throughout her entire body. All she could hear was the fading heartbeat of her sister thumping away until it was no more.

End of Book One