Ok here is the seventh chapter, I'm writing the summary right now too ! so don't fret if you're confused! It will all be cleared up ^_^. Lol I think in this chapter you can tell when I was like "OH GOD LETS GET THIS OVER WITH!!"

Precept


Arjun’s heart is pounding.

He can barely see a few inches in front of him, humid mist surrounds him completely. This is one of Bharat’s myriad of drills, and one of his favorites to inflict on his loyal student. Arjun was given the task of detecting Bharat’s movements and attacks through the fog. We tend to rely to heavily on our sight to tell us things, Bharat had said as he conjured up the mist, you must learn not only to use your other senses, but also to feel with your element. For the past twenty minutes Bharat had been completely silent except for his alarmingly fast attacks and sparse suggestions.

A rustle of cloth from behind him. Arjun spins around, attempting a solid strike with his elbow. It is caught in an expert palm and redirected to the left, leaving his chest open. In another instant, Arjun is on the ground. He quickly leaps to his feet, feeling the subtle vibrations of running on the wood floor. Taking a deep breath, Arjun causes the fog around him to collect into a airborne glob of water. Forming it into a wide arc he sends it out into the mists. It hits something…to the right. Arjun dashes forward pulling the fog with him and simultaneously condensing it. He spins and lets it loose, the serpentine stream of water snakes ahead of him and splashes something hard…too hard. Opening his palm, Arjun punches through a small pillar of ice. He knew I’d do this. Arjun thought.

“Almost, now focus on the water around you.” Bharat’s old voice echoes around him. Arjun barely dodges a rivulet of water whipping towards him. He steps to the side and takes control of the stream and sends it back. Hoping this would buy him time, Arjun closes his eyes and focuses on controlling the mist around him with sheer willpower. It’s unyielding. Did this mean he would have to wrestle control of it from Bharat? With clenched teeth Arjun sends out a shockwave of will around him. To his surprise he feels his sense of touch expand outwards, as if the mist is a part of his body. He feels something move towards him from his left, he spins and sends a stream of water out. An instant later the mists condense and splash to the ground and Arjun’s arm is caught in a pillar of ice extending a few feet in front of him. The weight is overwhelming and the pillar crashes down and explodes into icy shards.

“Good.” Bharat says, hands clasped behind his back, he stares at Arjun with hard eyes.

“What basu?” Arjun hands are on his knees as he gasps for breath.

“You just attuned yourself to water without a mantra.” Bharat smiles.

“Mantra?” Arjun straightens, drops of water stream down his body as he wrings out his hair.

“Words used for concentration. Repeated to strengthen ones will when wanting to control an element.” Bharat’s says the definition by rote.

“How come you never taught me this?”

“It was an experiment.” Bharat shrugs, then cackles. Arjun rolls his eyes and walks past him, with a flick of his hand he sends stream of water splashing on the old man’s back. Bharat jumps, then laughs again. Arjun makes his way up a small flight of stairs and into a small room. The window facing the alleyway is open letting in bluish evening light. Arjun had been staying here in Bharat’s tiny datma for the past few days, thus a few changes of clothes and a couple of other belongings were here. He strips down, dries himself and changes into a loose robe. He then walks down into Bharat’s bookroom, crammed with brittle scrolls and yellow-paged books barely visible in the dying lamplight. Bharat shuffles in remarkably, like an old man. As the trainer refills the oils lamps, Arjun walks over to the man’s desk and picks up an old black book with frail pages. It is written in an unattractive square-like script that Arjun can’t read. He flips through it with a look of confusion on his face.

“Ah, The Bible. One of the greatest books ever written.” Bharat says as he shuffles past Arjun to sit down.

“What language is this? Is this from one of the surrounding kingdoms?” Arjun asks, unable to put the book down. Bharat chuckles.

“Oh no, this book is much older than that…before this world.” Bharat says quietly. Arjun looks up at him.

“The book of a…god?”

“…Something like that.” Bharat takes the book from Arjun’s hands, and gingerly places it back on the table. Arjun folds his arm and leans on one of the bookcases, pondering.

“Why have you been teaching me all this?” Arjun asks softly, he looks at the old man, who outline is traced with the gold of lamplight.

“Because there is a need.” Bharat answers, the air is still. The wizened trainer is suddenly being so vague.

“What do you mean? Basu I’m confused. For years you have simply trained me at Rajesh’s request, but now…you- you’ve made me into a divya and read strange-”

“I have not made you into anything. I have simply watered you and helped you grow. You have been this way all along.” Bharat interrupts, his voice no longer small and gravely. Now it seems clearer, and his slumped form has a commanding presence in the small dark confines of this bookroom. Arjun stands still trying to put together the pieces.

“Basu … what-”

“I cannot answer you now! What you suspect is true, there is something more to all of this. But I cannot tell you until the time is right. Knowledge will only bring danger.”

“But-”

“Leave!” Bharat motions to the door. Arjun tenses up, then storms out of the room. He runs up the stairs and furiously gathers his belongings. He is confused and angry, what is Bharat hiding? The old man never got angry. Ever. What could possibly get him so on edge? Slinging his pack over his shoulder, Arjun walks through the book room without giving Bharat a second glance. Stepping out into the warm night air, he makes his way home.

-

Bharat sits alone, contemplating by lamplight. There is so much going on, Arjun couldn’t possibly grasp it if he were to tell him now. Later. Yes, he’ll show him then. Bharat sighs and rubs his temples in frustration. The boy is certainly advancing quickly…there must be something more to him than meets the eye. If Arjun was free from his duties this would all be much easier, but he is to close to the heart of the problem. I must be careful with him.

All the lamps in the room suddenly go out.

Bharat feels very surreal, and immedeatly realizes he is in the midst of illusion. He sits tense in the darkness. A lamp at the other end of the room is lit, exposing the dark outline of a person standing before him.
“I am near.” It says with a deep voice. Shadows rising like steam swirl around the being.

“Are you the Dreamwalker? The one they call Lilitu?” Bharat asks calmly. The figure nods

“Why must you cover yourself with illusion? Show me your true form.”

“No.” The figures voice becomes slightly menacing.

“Very well. Why do you come to me now? What do you seek?” Bharat stands up and shuffles to a book shelf to put the Bible away.

“I have Lion-Eyes. I am using him to begin a gathering.”

“To here?”

“Yes. Two are following, and once I find the other he will come also.”

“Is this an order from the Remnant? I have not heard of this plan…” Bharat begins thinking, his brow furrowed. The being scoffs.

“The Remnant is weak. I’m tired of waiting. Ahura’s death has only given birth to more and more priests that are taking over this land. We cannot wait for the Nivasi to make the first move. I have warned the Remnant of this time and time again and I’m not standing by them anymore. Our forces must rally.”

“What forces?! The Remnant is dying off!” Bharat exclaims, standing up in alarm.

“You and I… we have the beginnings of a new generation.” The figure lets its statement hang in the air. Bharat sits back down, trying to think clearly.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asks under his breath.

“Together, we have the descendants of the Royal Pandava dynasty, Gilgamesh, and the Ollin collectively in our hands. That is more power than we will ever need.”

“How do you know this?” Bharat inquires, thoroughly shocked. The being doesn’t answer, but simply stands there, letting everything sink in.

“Keep training that one. He is one we will need.”

“You think I will help you? And defy the Remnants?”

“I agree whole-heartedly with the Remnants goal. The only difference between me and them is that I’m actually doing something about it.”

“No you-”

“The children will gather here,” Lilitu interrupts “, and it will all begin.” With those final words the figure disappears and darkness returns. Moments later Bharat finds himself awakening in his now dimly lit room as if from a deep slumber.

-


The jostle of carriages and the smell of horses pervade Rohit’s groggy senses. He opens his eyes to pitch black darkness. He feels wood below him. Lifting his head slowly from the rolled up blanket that serves as his pillow, he tries to figure out is surroundings. Feeling around with his hand he affirms his assumption, he is in a caravan traveling at night. The man from before didn’t appear to be close by… Rohit makes his way to the back of the carriage and lifts the tarp just in time to see the plains become slowly blocked by massive city gates. Rohit wanted to run, but he couldn’t. For some reason, he could move, but he couldn’t move fast.

“Vishal.” A voice says behind him. Rohit whips around as fast as he can despite his mental block. The pitch blackness shrinks into a dark figure at the other end of the small wagon, letting the diffused light of city torches reveal the vaguely familiar features of his captor.

“What?”

“We are in the capital city. As I said we would be,” The man gets out of the wagon as it stops and wraps a loose part of his robe around him. “Come, we must find a place to stay that will be close to the others.” The man begins to walk away and Rohit begins to follow. He stops and looks back at the caravan wondering who it was that they had traveled with. But his mind felt so… heavy, he couldn’t think. Frustrated, he tightens his hands into fists, trying to fight the fog in his mind.

“N-no.” He says stuttering. He clenches his jaw in concentration. The man stops and turns around slowly.

“What?” He says in an almost inhuman voice. It sends a slight wave of fear through Rohit. The boy forcefully conjures up his disjointed thoughts.

“Who…are you?” He asks in quivering breaths. For a flickering moment he feels as though his mind is speared through with absolute terror. The man calmly walks closer to him.

“I like to think of myself as The-Nights-Beloved. Others who know of me call me The Dreamwalker. But to you, I am Sezen Lilitu.”

-

Flying above the clouds was best at night. At least, Imran thought so. The moons pure, all-pervading gaze traces every cloud in an outline of glowing silver. The night sky sparkles above him, and catching sight of a shooting star, he smiles.

How long to Vishal? he asks in his head. He receives an image in his head of a city far off in the distance, and then it suddenly looming upon them. Translated, not far. It looks as though this avatar he had summoned isn’t able to speak like some others. It seemed to be primal, but the thoughts it transmitted where intelligent. It had made for itself a vaguely bird-shaped form out of cloud and sand, or so it seems. Imran is still trying to figure out how his sister and him are able to not fall through this thing.

He looks back at his sister, Tahira. She sits looking out at the expanse of silver clouds below them. Putting loose hair behind an ear she returns his gaze, face blank. She had fallen asleep once the avatar had finally ascended out of the earth, after helplessly crying for what seemed like a cycle on Imran’s shoulder. She had a right to feel the way she did. Her plan for vengeance had turned up fruitless. At least, from the source she had expected. She was the one who had insisted that they find some way to perform in front of the Eminent and his men, hoping that the assassin boy would be there. To her dismay, he wasn’t, and she became desperate. Imran barely had time to sing a full summoning gita, it’s a good thing he was loud enough to reach the conscious of this avatar…

Imran sighs and ruffles through this pack. Finding his flute he puts it gingerly up to his mouth , and with deft fingers plays the first few notes. A slow melody expands to the world below.

-
Outside the Kingdom of Balra.

A warm breeze filters through the forest below. Enlil can hear it, feel it. More than just against his skin, but inside. He can feel its freedom, its latent power. Other boys usually hate having night watch.
But he loves it.

In the look-out tower high above Midvidukag, Enlil was closer to the sky, the only place he wanted to be. He was with four other boys, three older, one the same age as he. When he reported to the Watchers for his enforced duty as a male in the village, the others had told him their names. He’d forgotten by now and didn’t care. The four other boys were asleep, the youngest slumped over in a ball and the three others all sloppily outstretched. All testosterone-smelly, and completely heedless of valuable personal space. Enlil shrugs a lolling head off his shoulder. Wrapping his arms around his knees he wrinkles up his nose and wish he was here alone. As if on cue, a wind blows through the wooden tower, taking the boys’ smell with it. Enlil smiles, then yawns. A sudden tiredness overcomes his senses, and he closes his eyes.

Black.

Then ruddy light.

Enlil is suddenly kneeling on a stone floor, forehead against the backs of his hands. He lifts his head slowly. Though his vision is remarkably hazy, he can tell that he is within a vast chamber. Up ahead, there seems to be a pillar of light shining downward, as if there is an opening in the ceiling. Getting up, he walks through the surrounding darkness and closer to the light. As he gets nearer, a throne comes into view, and upon it a figure is sitting. There are also other figures standing around this throne, some clothed in bright colors. All however, appear to be watching him.

He stops within the huge shaft of light, but just at its edge. His eyes are a bit clearer, but he can only distinguish that some figures are male, and a few are female. One of the male figures beckons slowly, his hand outstretched as if to takes Enlil’s. The room outside of the light darkens, and a shadowy arm pushes the boy forward. Walking slowly towards the figure, Enlil extends his arm. When their hands touch, the figure’s body begins to unravel as if made of strips of cloth. Enlil looks around and all the figures unwind, and suddenly a huge gust of wind propels all of them upward into the sky. Incredible thrust begins to feel like gravity, and Enlil realizes he’s falling. Looking up he sees the sky, and turning around in the air he sees the earth’s green-brown expanse below. He keeps falling, closer and closer until he sees a mountain, then a lush valley. A whole city lies within the valley’s embrace, it looms closer and closer and Enlil falls. He begins to scream as he sees the details of buildings and then everything…

Stops.

He is floating in mid-air, his blue eyes feeling wide with fear as he stares into eyes of deep gray. A face is just inches from his, belonging to a body standing on a high veranda. A voice pierces the stillness of the moment.

“Come.”

Black.

An jolting pain fills Enlil’s entire body, and he awakens to find himself on the moist forest floor, looking up between the canopy of trees and a high tower into the night sky.

Black.

:ph43r: