Swann's Light Ch. 01

"So the last item?" Swann said.

Crow's eyes grew wary, her pacing resuming as she once more began to work through whatever was on her mind.

Finally she answered.

"It's called the Heart of the Sun. It's a small orb about the size of a field mouse, perfectly clear." Crow rattled off clinically.

Swann stared at her until she finally met his gaze.

"It's also said to hold the Light of Avasei, the material the gods used to forge one of the two Keys." Crow whispered, fear unmistakable in her voice.

"The Keys." Swann said, his own voice a little shaken.

"You remember the story?" Crow asked, a sadly sweet smile on her lips.

He grinned now, slipping across the room and gathering her in his arms. "Of course."

She sniffled, nuzzling her face against his chest for a moment before drawing back and staring into his eyes. With the memory of those long ago nights echoing in her thoughts as she stared at her lover and friend, Lady Crow lost herself in the past.

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The young boy sniffled gently, watching the howling winds beyond his window with a measure of uncertain fear. The Hell storms came rarely, a remnant of the ancient days of war that had shaped their world. As the door to his room creaked open he clutched the blanket tighter in one small hand. His other reached into the shadows for the hilt of a knife.

A flash of firelight from the storm above illuminated the room, and Crow's youthful beauty.

"Cannot sleep?" she teased, another flash of firelight making her jump and scoot across the room into bed beside him. Nuzzling against her, just to protect Crow should anything happen, young Joshua Swann watched the storm and whispered to his new partner and trainer.

"Where does the fire come from?" he asked.

"It's left over spell energy from the War of Keys." Crow answered gently, her eyes lost in they beauty of the Hell Storm as It burned across the sky.

"The War of Keys?" Swann asked softly, also entranced by the storm's display of power.

She shook her head to clear her vision then stared down at her young charge. "Have you never heard the story of the keys?"

Swann gave a timid shake of his head.

"Long ago we were one race, one people, created to serve the Gods in all their needs. We served their wine, tended their palaces, we guarded their secrets and their treasures. Now the Gods are powerful but they are also vain, and in their vanity they Gods created more and more angels, giving them more and more power. This continued until all of Heaven was filled with angels and the Gods realized that they had given too much of their power to too many.

Instead of stripping away the angels power and diminishing their creations the Gods decided to draw their own power together and forge the world that would become Avasei. Named for the God of the Sun who gave it life, the Gods turned over care of the world to their angelic creations and guided them in building many great kingdoms. The Provinces of Heaven spread across Avasei, magnificent cities rose in splendor and light, the magic of the gods blessing all things. The world knew great peace.

Soon all the world was touched by magic divine, elemental angels manifested of their own accord in the wildest reaches of Avasei while those in the cities grew comfortable and dissident in their service. They beseeched the gods for aid, praising their glory and power so that they might have slaves of their own who could help carry out the work the Gods had set forth. The Gods, whose vanity had only grown in the long years of ease and pleasure, wanted to grant their desire.

All but the Sun God Avasei.

From his place high above the world that bore his name Avasei had watched the angels grow insolent and careless. The world they tended had grown wilder, the beasts more vicious and powerful, all of it touched by too much of the magic the Angels used. Such power, he knew, called to dark things that lived far beyond the light. Neither the Gods or the Angels would listen to his cautions, their prayers unending for more power, more control.

The rest of the Gods decided to grant their angels prayers and so they stole a flame from the Sun God's palace and used it to give life to the slave race the angels had asked for. They created the race of men.

The Gods had erred.

The spark of life they had given to man was not the same as that which the angels bore, and while the mortal heart knew the same pleasures and joys as their angelic masters the mortal heart also held the ashes of sorrow and pain. The specter of death loomed in the darkest places of men's hearts.

And in those dark places so rich with magic, other things found their way into the world of light. The shadows grew thicker in those dark times, the demons and the nightmares pouring out of the darkness and ravaging their way across the world. The night was no longer safe. Whispers of a Devil King, a master that birthed these monsters filled the angelic palaces and pressboard apartments of the human slaves. Murders and deaths rose, pain could be heard filling the night sky.

War came in a wash of fire.

The devastation that wiped away the once beautiful city of Mrin is unaccountable, its ruins scattering to the farthest reaches of the desert landscape that lush forest land became. Demons began to gather in the wasteland left behind, their might growing into that of an army. They marched in shadow and under cover of terrible storm, blessed by a magic darker then anything the angels had ever seen.

Sweeping across the peaceful lands in brutal raids, devastating cities with secret attacks and powerful displays of magic, the demon armies slowly began to forge the Kingdom of the Damned. As the angels began to unite and strike back against their ardent foes the world light created by the god Avasei was darkened by another shadow.

Morningstar, the God's own son, took his throne as the Kingdom's ruler. As his territory expanded its boundaries, his demon armies continued to grow as angels fell to wicked temptations and heretical rituals. None know how he seduced the Goddess of Love, nor what torment she endured to give up her name to Morningstar. None today know her fate.

More demons were drawn from the darkest places of men's hearts, Arch Demons who were given holdings and vast power in the Kingdom Morningstar forged. Holdings and powers dependent upon the Arch Demons eternal vow of allegiance to the Devil King.

His heart heavy with his son's betrayal the God Avasei watched as the Provinces of Heaven shrunk back and drew their boundaries at the edge of the wastelands. Diminished in number, their powers betrayed by humans and fellow angels alike, the God saw how the great power he and his fellow deities used could so corrupt their creations. Unwilling to grant them any more, unwilling to destroy all that he had built, the God Avasei saw only solution.

Using the light of his sun and the darkness of shadows he forged two locks and two keys. The first imprisoned the Devil King in his mighty palace, locking him away from the rest of the world. The second he used to lock the Path of Heaven, cutting the angels off from the Gods they had always served.

The angels, the demons, the humans. They were on their own.

Alone and with no Gods or Kings to guide them they came to an uneasy peace and settled in the territories they had claimed. And the place between, where once stood a beautiful city and verdant land, they called the free lands. A place where all those still lost by the absence of those they served could find their own way. "

Her final words were whispered, her body shifting slowly as she lay young Joshua down in the thick covers of his bed and slipped to her feet. The last dying burst of firelight above promised an eventual end to the storm, a quiet but hot day tomorrow. A good day for training. With a smirk at the young boys cute features Miss Crow bent over and lay a soft kiss on his cheek.

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The whisper of memories brought a trail of tears to Lady Crow's eyes, her lower lip caught between her teeth to keep from losing control of her emotions. Joshua nuzzled his face against the top of her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair as she gathered herself and whispered "What do we do Swann?"

Swann's eyes slipped over to the window, his features darkening as he spoke so very gently "We need to find out what the Heart was meant for. If Kole wants it then I doubt anyone else but him is going to benefit when he finally uses it."

Drawing from his arms and wiping at the tears that touched her cheeks Lady Crow gave an agreeing nod "Yes, but who would know about the..." her words died softly as she stared at Swann with a growing smile. The hard cast of his features did not deter her as she bounced in excitement.

"Mistress Black Feather!" Lady Crow exclaimed.

Now Swann's eyes shifted to her for a moment, lost and confused. "What?"

Crow smiled as she spoke "The title of Master or Mistress Black Feather comes with many powers, and many secrets. If anyone knows about the heart and its history then I bet it's the head of the Black Feather family!"

He gave a distant nod, eyes cast back to the windows and their view of the city.

"What are you doing Swann, come on!" Crow said, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him out his trance.

"Go ahead. I need to take care of something." Swann said gruffly.

"What?" Crow asked.

He gave her such a hard look that for a moment Crow's heart raced with fear, then his eyes eased and he tried to offer a smile "Personal matters...." He hinted.

She gave him a confused look, then her eyes widened "Oh. Oh of course. I will see if she is available to see us." Crow said, backing up slowly as a blush tinted her features.

When the door closed behind her Swann gave a gentle shake of his head and watched the window again.

"Show yourself Churchill." Swann said slowly, his black feather tattoo glinting once with a sudden burst of magic. Long ago his teacher Crow had taught him how to use the secret armor of the Black Feather family, armor forged entirely of shadow. They became like a second skin to him, a veil of darkness he wore when fleeing the light.

In those years he had come up with a few of his own techniques, some simple variations on the usual Black Feather spells. This was one of them. Instead of weaving armor of shadow, he wove armor as thin and strong as light itself. Armor that could easily become unseen. It slipped over his body like tight leather, his lips curling in a smile as he felt the slight boosts it gave his speed and strength.

Churchill appeared in a slow display of subtle magic, the angels powers so closely tied to light that Swann had often wondered who between them would win in a duel. It looked like he was going to get his answer.

"Swann." Churchill said softly, a smirk on his cold and handsome features as he passed through the glass with all the effort of a sunbeam.

"You would have made an excellent Black Feather." Swann said offhandedly, impressed by the skill Churchill had shown in passing through the enchanted windows and bypassing his security spells.

Churchill gave a low bow, his eyes burning holes in Swann as they stared each other down. "From a Master such as you I will take that as a compliment."

Swann returned the bow.

"So?" Swann asked when he came back up. Churchill settled one foot, then the next on the floor, his legs parting slowly to take a familiar stance. A stance he shouldn't have known.

"How do you know that?" Swann whispered harshly, instinctively shifting into a similar fighting stance.

Churchill smile was so cold the windows of Swann's apartment frosted.

"The White Feather Style." Churchill said gently, his right hand drifting to his left side, those slender fingers curling about light that glittered and danced. Light that fused into the hilt of a sword.

He drew in a flash, literally. His first sweeping cross with the blade sent out a violent burst of light that blinded anyone looking into it.

The length of a curved dark blade swallowed that light, then drifted down but an inch to reveal Swann's eyes. "Light tricks Churchill?"

It was a jest of course, Swann was certain that Churchill could hear the false bravado in his voice. The White Feather Style, it was a phantom, a ghost from a past that Swann barely knew, a past that seemed to be growing in importance.

Churchill's hard eyes gave Swann little time to think, the next movement of his blade cutting through the thick and expensive couch that Swann had loved napping on.

"Hey!" Swann growled, his shorter blade coming down in a quick slash that Churchill caught and held.

"Is that a Feather Blade?" Churchill teased.

Swann's eyes narrowed. No one talked ill of his weapon. Churchill's sudden surge of strength threw Swann halfway across his apartment. As he rolled back to his feet to face off against Churchill once more, he found the room bare.

"I know you're here Churchill." Swann said, the soft crunch of splintered and broken wood giving him some way of tracking his opponent. When silence next filled the room, Swann knew that Churchill had simply decided to float above the ground. The first hit came out of nothingness giving Swann a momentary glimpse of Churchill's fist before his head rocked back from the punch. He watched his own beating in flashes of elbows, fists and legs.

As he fell to the floor, chunks of broken wood digging into his sides, Swann let loose a blast of shadows. A cloud of fog darker then midnight filled the apartment, giving Swann the time he needed to roll away and find his footing, ready for the next move.

Churchill's laughter seemed to come from everywhere at once, filling the room much as Swann's spell of darkness.

"I had forgotten about Shadow Fog." Churchill mused; seemingly pleased by the spell Swann had woven. A cold light bloomed in the darkness, the chill in the air growing more and more intolerable until the Fog itself began to freeze. By then Swann realized, it was too late.

Churchill's laughter shook the tomb of shadowed ice that was enclosing Swann before his nemesis whispered "Don't you even know who you face?"

The darkness held Swann in a prison of his own making, silencing any whitty retort.

"I am the cold light of dawn personified, I am the first light, that which chases back the darkness and the shadows. Ever have I been it's master." Churchill gloated.

Struggling, fighting the cold and horrible pain the shadows produced in every limb, every pore, Swann could hear the ice around him cracking in his struggle, but not breaking. Churchill passed through the dark ice like a ghost, smirking as he leaned into the shrinking coffin and whispered, "What promises would you make to live Swann?" What would you do to survive another night?"

Swann spit at him, making Churchill laugh all the harder. Then, and just for a moment, Swann saw his fatal flaw. The spittle had passed right through Churchill and struck wetly against the ice before freezing. As the Angel of Cold Light pulled back from the shrinking cave that held Swann, Joshua watched with angry emerald eyes.

"Your not even here, are you Churchill?" Swann whispered, making Churchill pause with just the front of his face leering at Joshua from a wall of ice. His smile made Swann shiver.

"I'm afraid not Swann. I am just a focused beam of light passing through your windows. An illusion really, do you like it?" Churchill said, his ice-cold smile razor sharp.

Swann grinned back at Churchill's frozen smile. "Cuttle Fish"

Churchill tilted his head curiously as shadows began wrapping around Swann like a thick blanket.

"Burial Cloth?" The arrogant angel asked before he felt the spell slowly filling the room. The last swath of shadow wrapped tight about Swann a breath before a fierce explosion destroyed his apartment. The windows blasted out, Churchill's face screaming as it shattered and fell in a mound of crumbling ice. The shadows around Swann were merely tattered rags as he fell from the tenth floor, limp and bleeding from dozens of shallow cuts.