The Forgotten Zodiac

The king gave a sharp nod, turning to Zex and informing him of a lantern that rested in the guard's house. It didn't take long for the boy to find it and return. Riordan took the lantern and held it out, saying "And what are you intending on doing with this? Just curious, but you are in my brother's body. Naturally, I'd like to know."

"Of course." Ink smiled a bit. "I, Veros...have the ability to manipulate souls. There is only one that has the power to match it, and his own soul has faded from this realm. Very unfortunate..." He took the lantern, holding it between his hands. It started to glow, a strange green light radiating from inside it. "But you see, my power goes far beyond what he had. I am a Titan, after all, and he was naught but a very old human. At the height of my prowress, I can pluck souls from the heights of the heavens themselves...particularly if they owed me a debt," He glanced sideways at Zex, who said nothing.

"Well, it matters not. Here, Zex. Your new weapon, disguised as a harmless light source. For easy concealment, and the protection of the fragile mind I reside with." Ink handed the glowing lantern over. "Use it well. To arm it, you must simply witness a death...the soul will be attracted to the lantern, like a magnet. A different colored flame will appear inside, depending on the type of soul. The souls of evil will give you the most power, so try hanging around a public execution to start off with. That's a nice thing, isn't it? You don't have to hurt anyone innocent."

"Thank you." Zex muttered. He watched as marks burned themselves into his fingertips, spell runes that would probably activate the attacks.

"You'll figure out how to use it on your own time. The souls will slowly fade from that container, to be devoured by yours truly. And before you say anything, no. Ink will feel nothing. It's just my food...so go and get a soul in there, Zex." Veros ordered, and the ressurected boy bowed low before moving off without a word.

Riordan watched the boy move away, then said "Feel free to raid the jails. I've no use for the rabble that takes up space there, and the guards won't care if one were to mysteriously die." He took his robes from a nearby chair and swung them about his shoulders, fastening the buttons quickly. "Imagine the taste of a soul as old as Naybrin's," he said, more in curious thought than anything else. "The first of all souls. There will only ever be one."

Veros laughed. A long, almost cruel-sounding laugh. "You humans are such fascinating creatures! So easily consoumned with power, and the curiosity of more power...I love it!" When he finally calmed down, he was left grinning and giddy. "For a human to devour a soul is the most ancient of sins, dating back to the days when they first started off as a race! A human can eat a soul, yes. They gain power and strength unlike any other; but it is the most horrendous and expensive addiction one could possibly find themselves feeding.

"And it is not an addiction that can be broken; all it takes is three complete souls eaten before you start to change into a monstrosity bent upon eating the souls of every living thing it comes across. Your very body will twist itself into something inhumane, making you primed to catch whatever prey you set upon, even changing during a struggle to contain any pesky struggling flea you manage to capture. It was called the First Predator, the Hunter, the Whisper in the dark. I myself like to call them Cholyath; a word that translates in your tongue directly to Changeling. Not exactly the little trouble-making imps your mother told you about to keep you from sneaking cookies before dinner. If you really want a taste of Naybrin's soul, I would not object to giving you a small portion, but...I strongly suggest you rethink it, dear king."

"No no, I wouldn't dream of it," he said at once. "I was merely curious. You will be consuming his soul after all, won't you? As is my nature, I was simply wondering about things from a different point of view." He shrugged, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. "Is there anything else you require, or do you intend to wait until you have the souls before releasing my brother?"

"Your brother will be released soon enough. I just require more time...and you require patience. But, I'll let him speak again. I'll talk to you later, I suppose." Veros gave a final chuckle before Ink blinked twice, then shook his head.

"I like that painting," He said, as though nothing happened at all. He smiled happily. "You did a good job!"

"...Thanks," his younger sibling said, sighing. He looked up at the painting for a moment, then, ever so carefully, withdrew from his pocket a small vial of something he had no idea why he had been carrying around.

A tiny vial of red paint.

Very slowly, as if not totally aware of his own actions, Riordan uncorked the bottle and dipped his fingers inside, creating, in the center of the picture, next to the dragon, a single bright red flower.

Ink gasped. "But that's the bad color! You said that color wasn't a good color. You said I shouldn't touch it. Should I stay away from this wall, then?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side. Zex returned by this time, carrying his lantern. A silver flame flickered inside, though the lantern still shone green. The boy said nothing, staring at the scene before him. This wasn't really his business...

"Well...there are two different kinds of this color," Riordan explained, a new air of patience in his tone. "This one in my hands is good." He held the bottle out to his sibling. "It's the color of roses and such. We make it with things found in the earth and grown from bushes. This one is good. The second version of this, though..." He sighed, then lifted his hand and put his thumb in his mouth, biting down hard enough to draw blood. He showed it to his brother, a tad apprehensively. "This...this is blood," he said softly. "This is the bad, bad version of that color. This one means pain and death, and all of the other bad things I said before. This is the version that comes, not from the earth, but from people, and it's a sad, terrible thing. ...Do you understand, brother?"

Ink slowly nodded. "Death is when you stop breathing, right? I...I think I understand...those are bad things, right? If they're bad, I should stay away from them." He tutted, tilting his head to the side again. "I've seen blood before...when I fell down once and broke my arm. I was younger...blood is inside people. It keeps people from stopping breathing, right?"

"Yes. And when someone dies...they never return," Riordan finished, rubbing his forehead. "That's why you have to be careful about this color, brother. It has two sides, one good, one so very bad..." He placed the vial in his brother's hand, closing the wry fingers over it. "I know...you're smart," he said, sounding as though he was hard-pressed to get the word out. "You are."

"I try to be. For you, brother." Ink put his hand over Riordan's, smiling. "I'll be very careful with it, I promise. Just as you tell me to, little brother." He pulled his hand away, inspecting the vial. He wandered away, adding a bit of red here and there. He was trying to make flowers, like Riordan had made, but it just looked like messy sploches. They were flowers in his mind, though, and he nodded in satisfaction when he was done. "Can I see a rose?" He asked suddenly. "Zex, would you pretty please go get a rose for me?"

"I will fetch the largest rose my eyes fall upon, and remove the hazard of thorns for you." Zex bowed and moved off, still holding the lantern.

Riordan watched him go, then sighed and sat down in the chair nearby. He felt tired all of the sudden, and he didn't know why. He sat rubbing his forehead for a bit, then suddenly stiffened. In the next moment, he had thrown his head back with a scream of pain as what felt like fire arched down his spine from the base of his neck.

He collapsed, unconscious before he hit the floor.

((WAT JUST HAPPENED.))

"...Brother? Little brother?" Ink scurried over, poking around his dear brother for a moment. Upon Zex's return, he quickly ordered his 'friend' to take the king back upstairs. The black-clad boy struggled with it, but soon had Riordan taken back upstairs and into his room, where Valley took over.

"There it is. Alastor." Forin sighed with great relief. It had taken a whole day of riding; evening had settled over the castle and city, but the torches and lights were brighter than ever within the city. "A festival? Oh yeah...it's the Moon Festival. That's no good...bah, we can take a side entrance and get up to the castle easier through the back roads." Forin muttered to himself. His plan was thought through well enough, but he found his carriage getting stuck at the back end of a crowd.

A crowd full of murmurs and confused whispering. "What's going on? Luen, your eyes are sharper than mine."

((STUFF.))

The kirin nodded, quickly sweeping the area with his emerald gaze, blinking in the sunlight. "It looks like...someone's exiting the castle. That's where all of the people are looking. ...Wait a second...that's just Werr. But...why are they all looking at him so oddly?" He shook his head, noticing that a subtle brightness had entered Cynyr's single eye at mention of t he boy. "Either way, let's go closer," Luen said, trotting eagerly on his long legs.

Forin knew immediately what was going on. "Those letters Obelisk sent me. Only about three of them. From those and this...I imagine Werr hasn't been getting out much." He slid off of the carriage's driver seat, and with Seria's help, he got a sleeping Diana onto his back so he could carry her. He pushed his way through the crowd, but stopped short when he realized what they were doing.

This was the Moon Festival, after all. Under the setting sun, it was custom for the Alastorian King to send a prayer to the Goddess, thanking for all she had done over the past four years, and to ask for another four years of prosperity, love, and peace. It was reaching the end, thankfully.

"I pray that among the lives lost over the last cycle will be blessed by your presence, and their names remembered for cycles to come. From the victims of crime to the heros who give their lives for others, may your shining face smile upon them. Love and joy upon us this next cycle, and may our paths be painted before us by your delicate touch. Ha'ala."

"Ha'ala," The crowd repeated. A moment of silence passed, then a cheer swept through the crowd. On Werr's signal, fireworks were set off; then he left the stand, met by Nate, who was quick to escort him away from the crowd. Werr didn't seem to care. About...anything. His prayer had been dull and rather emotionless, as though he were counting off on a list of memorized numbers...

Seria watched the boy walk, then gently turned her feline head and nuzzled under Cynyr's hand, saying "Well? What are you waiting for? Go." She gave a very slight smile, turning her head up to watch her husband closely.

He didn't need telling twice. He shifted forms, licked her forehead softly, and disappeared. Seria closed her eyes, sighed, then walked over and rubbed against Forin's leg.

Cynyr alighted on one of the castle overhangs, his gleaming single eye tracking Werr's every move. He was not a kind person, not one who felt a strong sense of compassion naturally. He loved his family, of course, but had a hard time showing it. That's why he couldn't bring himself to just jump down and reveal himself to Werr so suddenly. It was hard for him.

Werr walked with Nate, his eyes set on the castle doors. He only paused to purchase a large bag of bread and fruits, which he uncerimoniously dropped in the hands of a blind beggar. He made it up the castle steps without incident, Nate only a short pace behind him. Nate kept looking around, though; he felt much like they were being watched. He wasn't wrong, but thankfully, it was only Cynyr. He just didn't know that.

The panther paced around on the roof top, not wanting to let Werr out of sight, wanting to just leap down and...and...something. He had no idea what he would say to Werr, but he had to do something. Finally, he took a deep breath, swallowed as much of his pride as he could (and believe me, it was a lot), shifted to human form, and gave a neat flip that carried him over the edge of the roof just as Werr and Nate were about to pass under.

He landed in a neat crouch and lifted himself on his long legs, his bright yellow eye burning with an intensity to rival the sun.