Penndarius found himself within a gray expanse that seemed to continue forever. For as far as he could see, there were no landmarks. There was a vague glow of light but no source that could be seen. All his senses felt dulled, as if such qualities held no meaning here; yet, he felt his mind open wider than ever before. He was able to see it all, what little there was to see. This place seemed so familiar and yet alien, as if he had been here before but had never seen it for what it was.

Then something new appeared: a white square in the gray expanse that beckoned to him. He saw it and moved toward it. The environment was clean and comfortable—not too hot, not too cold. His feet rested on a solid surface devoid of texture.

Abruptly Penndarius found himself next to the strange square, as if his own will had taken him there. In that white square a table appeared with exactly the same dimensions as the square itself. It was an ordinary table with four corners and legs—nothing special. Penndarius approached and placed his hand on a corner of the table.

Something changed. It was subtle at first, but as time went by, what few moments there were, Penndarius felt it. There was a change in the atmosphere. The air turned crisp and smelled of almonds...almost like a poison.

A chair appeared next to Penndarius's hand as if it belonged there.

"If this is supposed to impress me, it does not," he said to the empty air and looked down at the chair with mild curiosity and slight bemusement.

"Then I shall not make you wait longer, my dear," a commanding, yet confident feminine voice said from the nothing.

A strange, white-feathered female appeared before Penndarius. The elegant creature was surrounded by a faint, forest-green aura that tinged her body a pale green, and she held herself with an aloof authority.

The woman was vaguely therran, but she was beautiful in an alien way. Her thin lips were pressed together slightly, with small, protruding canines, and she had an angular chin that came to a point. Her body was slender and well shaped, with small breasts covered tastefully with a layer of fur. Exotic sloe eyes glowed a dim jade green. Her legs had reversed haunches, but she walked with confidence, placing one foot directly in front of the other. Delicate, bat-like wings crested her shoulders.

"I hope I am sleeping and that this is a dream," Penndarius said and raised his eyes to her wistfully.

"You think this is a dream? My dear, why would you believe such a thing?" she asked with a strange softness.

Penndarius looked around in wonderment. "This table appeared when I thought about how empty this place was, while this chair came into being when I thought about sitting down. You came out of thin air when I thought about how lonely it was here. In our dreams our desires can come true instantly, and I infer that this is a dream," Penndarius deduced.

She seemed amused at his conclusion. "You are somewhat correct, though many crucial details remain outside your grasp," she said.

Penndarius pulled out the chair and sat down. He propped up his chin pensively. "Please sit down," he said. Then he motioned with his free hand, and a chair appeared for her.

"Good," she said with a lilting laugh, and her tone implied that she was impressed. Instead of sitting down, though, she walked around Penndarius like a prowling animal. "Since you know so much, what is my name?" she asked.

Penndarius thought for a moment. "I do not know that," he said. "I assume you are a manifestation of my inner desires."

"Me, a manifestation of your inner desires? Are you are attracted to a furred-and feathered kind that does not exist." She laughed and mocked the scholar.

Penndarius shook his head in amusement. "Hmm...you are right. What is your name?" he asked.

"You may call me Rhea," she said amicably.

"A pleasure to meet you, Rhea. My name is Penndarius. Do you mind telling me the purpose of this dream?" he asked politely.

She opened her mouth and bared her small, pointed teeth with a smile that hinted at malice as she circled him. She stopped directly behind him, then leaned in to speak sweetly into his ear. "To decide how your story ends," she said.

The scholar sat straight up at that. "My death?" he asked without a hint of fear.

She straightened up and continued circling. "Yes. Today you tell me the terms of our contract," she replied.

"You want to form a contract?" he asked, incredulous.

She nodded her furred head slightly in response. "Yes, dear...and of course these terms must be decided by you, not me," she responded in a businesslike tone.

Penndarius thought about it for a moment. "And if I do not?" he asked.

"Then our agreement would be to decide there would be no contract, and I would get what I want at no cost," she said with feigned innocence.

Penndarius wanted to know the full terms of the contract. "I see." He scratched his chin as he pondered. "What do you get in return?"

"Ah, the heart of the question. I must admit, you are good at this," she complimented him. "When our contract ends, I get everything: soul, mind, and body, the essence that makes you. In turn I can use all that to become real," she said without humor.

Penndarius shrugged his shoulders. "I was taught about the contract formed between a therran and a kirin. What it entails is not beyond my realm of understanding."

"So, a kirin...is that what you think I am?" she asked, neither confirming nor denying his suspicions. "Name your terms," she demanded with finality.

"This is a dream after all. Fine." Penndarius sighed. "My terms are that you will serve me until I die, gifting me your power to achieve my own ends, no matter the reason, cost, or sacrifice."

Rhea's confident smile disappeared, and her demeanor changed to surprise. "No! I refuse!

This cannot be. If this…I will not be able to…. What have you done?" she asked in horror.

A tingle started to flow up Penndarius's body, and he felt as if he were on fire. Suddenly, he was. Forest-green fire lit his entire body from head to toe and flickered, though its heat did not hurt him.

Rhea had been standing across the table from Penndarius, but it disappeared, as did the chairs. Then the open space disappeared as Rhea rushed toward Penndarius and disappeared in front of him. The scholar felt as if she were being absorbed into him.

His eyes flew open wide as he felt the essence of Rhea meld with his own. "What magic is this?" he demanded.

The entire blank expanse turned from dull gray to a multi-hued turmoil of color.

"You have chosen!" a disembodied voice boomed. "The terms are set, bound by unbreakable contract of blood, bone, and soul. Penndarius and Rhea the White Feather, henceforth you are soul-bound to each other!"

As the surroundings faded away, Penndarius thought he saw the faint trace of a green line, formed between him and Rhea. Then his eyes fluttered closed, and the room disappeared from sight.

፨

The White Guard was created by the Church of Dol'ron to protect the cities and lands of Deiyalia with unblinking vigilance and staunch courage. Many of the White Guard openly worship other gods; the only requirement is dedication to upholding the law and a keen sense of justice. In the capital city of Deiyalia, Deiyil, the White Guard is blessed with two warrior leaders beyond compare, fraternal twin brothers with radically different fighting styles and outlooks on life. When dawn breaks, it is they who hold up the pillars of our land.

- Lady Gabriella Lark, Protector of the High Chancellor of Deiyil.

፨

The room had not yet been cleaned after Soren's fight. The assassin was still lying crumpled and unconscious in the ruins of what had earlier been a bed.

Two men were in the room, examining the scene. They both held their bodies with an attitude of authority. One was standing, while the other was hunched down and leaning toward the unconscious man. The first man looked down on him from above, and the other squatted with his arms around his knees.

Both men had short, curly, russet-colored hair and square faces and seemed almost identical, with only minor nuances that differentiated them. They were just past their twenties, but their faces were creased with signs of battle experience beyond their years.

Both of them were wearing loose-fitting, white cloth tabards over their chests, which extended from the shoulders to just past the groin. The tabards were embroidered with golden thread around the outer edges and had emblazoned over the breastbone gold hammers that shone elegantly in the morning light.

That was where their similarities ended. The standing man was wearing a full set of plate mail that covered him like a whitewashed exoskeleton. It was primed white and covered in a clear wash that caused it to gleam brightly. The armor had faint etchings, visible religious symbols. Unlike other White Guardsmen who only showed homage to Dol'ron, this one claimed him as his god.

He was much taller than average and was powerfully built. A great sword hung diagonally across his back in a hinged scabbard that allowed the user to unsheathe it quickly. Impressively large and wide, it was built well for battle, with a full tang that ran down the center of the handle and a triangular blood groove. He held his helmet at his side. It was angular and pointed, almost hawk-like, with a hinged visor.

His fraternal twin was sitting on his heels next to the bed, looking over the unconscious body for clues. He was without armor and instead wore white cloth underneath under his tabard. A pair of gold-filigreed daggers with naked blades curved into a golden sash at his waste. His form was lithe and shorter and slenderer than his brother's, fashioned for dexterity rather than power. Unlike his counterpart, this brother was able to squat on his haunches easily.

The breeze through the open window rustled his curly hair. "The morning air brightens with mystery and intrigue," he said merrily, unperturbed by the assassin's misfortune. "What do you think, little brother."

The heftier man patted his very slightly older twin on the shoulder. "Keep your voice down, Aedan. It is still early, and people are sleeping," he said in a low but commanding voice. Aedan dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand, saying, "You are such a bore,

Jadice. Does this not intrigue you?" Jadice shook his head.

Exasperated, Aedan sighed to himself and then laughed at the familiar exchange.

From the door, another guard entered and saluted the twins. His chest was emblazoned with a silver hammer.

"Lord Aedan, Lord Jadice... After investigation, we are unable to discern the identity of the victim," the White Guardsman said tersely.

Jadice turned. "Nothing?" he asked.

"Nothing, my lord," the guardsman responded dutifully.

Aedan pivoted on his feet, retaining his crouching position. "And the one who escaped?

He must have given a name to the innkeeper," Aedan pressed the guard.

"He did, my lord. Soren Luna Mortalitas," the man responded.

"What was he wearing?" asked Aedan.

The guardsman saluted. "A red vest and loose black pants, sir," he replied.

Aedan scratched his head and walked toward the door, then stopped and motioned back toward the assassin on the bed. "I know not whence he came, but he will not perform his violence in my city," Jadice insisted. "Where was he last seen?"

The guardsman kept his rigid stance. "I do not know, my lord. I am sorry," he responded.

Aedan searched the assassin's cloak and discovered the silver crescent-moon pendant. He showed it to Jadice, and both twins immediately headed to the door.

Aedan patted the guardsman on the shoulder on their way out. "Take care of this scene," he commanded.

As they walked, Jadice turned to his smaller brother. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"My gut tells me that our red-vested stranger was attacked by an assassin, and he defended himself, with near-deadly results," Aedan replied. "Curious events are afoot today. Before we leave, I have questions for the innkeeper, and then we can check our next lead," he said, flashing the assassin's crescent-moon pendant. 

- End of Episode -

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