"Hark! Hark! He comes! He comes!" a young male called out profusely, jabbing the evening air with his sleek forefinger.

"Ease yourself, Elwin. We knew he would be arriving shortly. My, the excitement young folk get nowadays from merely spying the silhouette of such a figure," came a voice in a huff. An older male stepped forward from behind Elwin, gazing from the balcony they were standing upon to the edge of town. A figure could be seen approaching through the shade of the trees surrounding Flickerwood.

"We must greet him at once," breathed Elwin. "He must know immediately."

The older male shook his head, not a single strand of silver hair falling out of place. "Let him first achieve peace and bathe in his hometown glory that is most assuredly deserved. It would be a bad omen to interrupt his gentle mind so soon."

"But, Alyan-"

"He shall know soon enough, Yunèirs," Alyan said as he popped a pipe back into his mouth, his steely eyes never shifting from the silhouette.

The legendary figure brought his pitch black horse to a halt as soon as he had reached the inner limits of Flickerwood. He turned his dark-haired head to the sky and drew in a long, nostalgic breath.

Then he laid his olive eyes upon his home.

The town was just as he recalled it. It stood within the confines of the Great Wood; constructed of glowing trees that could remember days that even preceded he himself. The leaves were ever changing, ever shifting, ever laughing. The hazy air was thick enough to be seen, but not thick enough to bother sight. The creatures of the forest often sang songs of joyfulness that floated to the heavens above and dissipated, as though they weren't even for the goddess to hear.

A spring ran directly through Flickerwood, allowing for easy access to the most pure water the Legend had ever known in all of his travels. A waterfall roared blissfully just behind the far end of the town, setting a scene so serene that it made him homesick; even though he stood in front of it.

He was so mesmerized, he didn't even hear the approaching of three horse-riding figures before they were within ten paces of him.

"Hail Airmidia!" said the first, joy spreading over his face at once as he spouted the goddess' name. "Kyrilu, you have returned!"

"Hail Airmidia," the Legend looked at the three males in turn and a broad smile of his own burst onto his handsome face. "Asher, Bevin, Callum! What a joy it is to see your faces again."

"And yours," said another, the one Kyrilu had referred to as Bevin. "We were not altogether certain that you would return to us."

"Ah, but I have, brothers! I have. I trust you received the word that I was coming?" Kyrilu said.

The first, Asher, bobbed his head up and down furiously, golden hair glinting in the faint sunlight. "Indeed, that we did and more, as you know! We are overjoyed to recognize you now as Draca Damyan, Dragon Tamer!"

The other two burst into compliments of their own but Kyrilu merely smiled and raised a pale palm to silence them. "Simply a consequence of action. But a good one, nonetheless. However, the real goal was achieved and now that I have retired from slaying demons, goblins and dragons, it is a pleasant wonder to be able to return home for the remainder of my days."

"You shall forever be weighed as a hero here," Callum spoke in a deep voice. "In fact-"

"Draca Damyan! Draca Damyan!" a voice called out as yet another figure, this one of a young male, rushed to the surprised group.

"Oh, what is it, Elwin?" said a disgruntled Callum.

"I beg for your forgiveness, Hero Kyrilu," Elwin bowed, his deep blue eyes filled with concern, "but I thought I had better tell you now lest I fall to pieces from this terrible knowledge."

"Terrible knowledge?" Kyrilu gestured at him, "Your ears are hardly yet pointed, my boy. Whatever could be troubling a youngling such as yourself?"

"Your wife," Elwin swallowed. "The one you left here even as you began your most noble journey. She's been stolen away by a horrible creature; your infant son with her."

Kyrilu tightened his grip on his stallion's reins. "Tell me, youngling, when did this happen?"

"Only just three suns ago, Draca Damyan."

"And where, pray tell, did said creature drag them off to?"

Elwin turned and pointed to a towering mass a little ways past the waterfall behind Flickerwood that jutted into the sky, nearly blocking out the sun. It's white cap played lazily with the clouds and the rest of the rocky giant looked down powerfully on the ground below; a massive reminder of the earth's fortitude.

"Cyneric Mountain," Asher breathed.

Elwin nodded, turning somber eyes back upon the Legend.

Kyrilu's jaw tightened but he fixed his gaze on the snowy tip and narrowed his eyes. "Then I shall be off at once."

All of the others save Elwin looked at him in surprise.

"What, so fast? Without consulting anyone? Without recruiting some aid? Without ... anything?" Bevin asked.

"I shall go without. You forget yourself, Bevin. I am Draca Damyan! The only one who should feel the tinge of worry upon their brow is the beast that took my loved ones." Kyrilu grinned and jabbed his heels into the flesh of his pitch steed, taking off instantly and rocketing past the town he loved so.

He leaned forward as he rode, olive eyes transfixed on the mountain rapidly approaching. Memories took over his mind as he thought of his wife.

"Must you leave? Truly?" The young maiden gazed into Kyrilu's eyes.

He nodded."I must. This is what destiny holds for me. But I shall return swiftly, I promise. For you," he paused and reached out, gently pressing his learned palm to her stomach, "and for the child."

The maiden placed her own soft hand upon his and smiled at him warmly, her sky blue eyes tender. "You come back to me unharmed, understood?" Her voice was gentle.

"Without a single scratch." Kyrilu gave her a brilliant smile of his own and embraced her.

The two held onto each other tightly for a few minutes in silence, each enjoying the intimate company of the other; both lost in the passage of time.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And I you," he responded.

Kyrilu tightened his hold and she responded in the same elegant manner as the sun edged slowly over its blue canvas.

The Legend grit his teeth as he tore up the side of the mountain like a bolt of black lightning, allowing his transport to slow only once they reached the icy cap. No snow fell, but it was deep enough that Kyrilu hopped off of his horse and strode forward on foot.

There it be, it hath arrived. So long it did take, a voice rang throughout the chilly air and Kyrilu was forced to his knees immediately, clapping his hands over his pointed ears and squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Not from outside, no. Inside, yes. No escape for it.

Kyrilu's eyes snapped open as he realized that the intensity of the voice hadn't become any quieter. If anything, it had only grown louder. He slowly, gritting his teeth, raised himself back to his feet and whipped around wildly as he heard the voice in his head speak again.

Does it remember Aeglaeca? It should. T'was not long ago it tried to kill. It failed.

Icy laughter bombarded Kyrilu from all sides as he whirled around in frustration, trying to find the source of the familiar voice.

Up.

Kyrilu glanced skyward and nearly flinched from what he saw.

A monster at least two men high stood elegantly on the point of a nearby rock formation. Its gangly arms hung loosely at its sides, nearly touching the ground. Curved claws lined its bony hands. It wore no clothes at all, its ashen skin morbid against the purity of the snow. The hoary face held no mouth, merely skin where it should have been, and where there should have been eyes, there were only two mouths in constant motion; neither ever making a sound.

"Aeglaeca," Kyrilu muttered, wide eyes narrowing to slits. "You should have remained in the pits of Glarheel."

Not I, not I, Aeglaeca chirped. Now I have what is needed. Yes, I have its things. It has come. For them but now for me. I for it. For death us both. With that, the creature extended one long, eerie finger and pointed directly behind where Kyrilu was standing.

The Legend whipped around and had to resist releasing a shout. Upon a formation almost identical to the one the monster blackened, the body of his wife lay motionless in a heap; golden hair glimmering even in the lack of sunlight.

A tiny bundle was being held tightly in her unconscious grasp.

Turning slowly, Kyrilu gripped the hilt of his famous blade and began to unsheathe it, his knuckles white with anger. "This day, Aeglaeca," he murmured, "you will wish you had remained in those forsaken pits."

No magic. We finish with combat. To death, the mouths sped up as though excited.

Kyrilu twirled his blade in his right hand and smirked, eyes honing in on potential targets already. "To death."

As the last word escaped his mouth, the monster launched itself off of the stone in a breathtaking display of power and grace, leaping high into the air with its crude arms dangling at its sides like a child's doll.

Kyrilu retreated swiftly as Aeglaeca landed with a crash, its body having been in that exact spot only moments before.

He let out a battle cry familiar to all but understood by few as he slashed at the creature's right arm.

Quick as a flash, the limb reacted, sparks flying as claws met steel, the force of the collision sending Kyrilu sprawling backward, temporarily moving his sword away from his body to maintain balance. Before he could recover, Aeglaeca swiped at his midsection, sending blood splattering across the silken snow.

Clutching at his stomach with his free hand, Kyrilu groaned and thrust his sword upward, another shower of sparks falling around him as both hands of the monster sliced through the air and hammered down on the weapon. The force of the impact brought the Legend to his knees, his right arm shaking violently and burning with the burden of keeping the horror at a distance.

Kyrilu could feel his left hand hot with steaming blood, his vision starting to blur and his head beginning to spin. The mouths of the demon seemed to multiply.

No magic. Tut tut. No nothing.

Kyrilu squeezed his eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to clear his mind.

Dead. All dead. Its offspring shall taste of distrust and lust.

Draca Damyan's eyes shot open and he roared as loud as he could, pulling back his arm and surprising Aeglaeca as it fell forward, claws poised to penetrate. Moving with inhuman speed, Kyrilu hit the ground and rolled forward between the unsteady legs of the demon, lashing out as he passed, cutting deep into the right leg.

Aeglaeca screamed horribly, the sound incredibly eerie, as it threatened to cause the Legend's head to explode. Ignoring the piercing noise, Kyrilu hopped to his feet and lunged forward just as the demon was turning, creating a deep gash in the opposite leg.

The mouths on its face roared in agony as it slammed down onto its knees heavily, the earth shaking beneath Kyrilu's feet as it did so.

Rushing towards it, Kyrilu raised his blade high. Aeglaeca drew back its massive hand. Draca Damyan roared again as he plunged his sacred weapon directly into the beast's heart, feeling it penetrate the air on the other side.

In the same split second, the back of Aeglaeca's hand came swooping down, smacking into Kyrilu's chest with a boom, wrenching his hands from his sword and tossing him backwards through the air; crashing down into the snow forty paces away.

All at once the screaming in his mind ceased and he was free to think again as he shakily lifted his head to see Aeglaeca rip the blade from its chest, sway once as it watched green blood ooze to life and then fall to the ground with a crack like thunder.

Kyrilu remained on the ground for a few more moments, gazing at the grey sky. His chest heaved as he tried to suck in air and exhale smoothly without much success. He poked his chest gingerly and bit his tongue as searing pain tore throughout his upper body.

Taking great care, Draca Damyan rose to his feet and limped feebly over to the great rock that held on top of it his fair maiden. He did not pause to collect his weapon as he passed the demon, for fear of collapsing from attempting to free it.

Climbing with great difficulty, he managed to kneel down beside his wife, one hand always on his stomach; trying to retain as much blood as possible to remain awake as the adrenaline slowed.

He stared at her soft face for a moment before his olive eyes moved to the bundle in her arms. He began to reach out ...

"Do not dare to touch him."

Kyrilu, the Legend, Draca Damyan, gazed wide eyed at his wife, who had moved exceedingly fast in driving the dagger deep into his chest.

Kyrilu tried to speak, mouth moving such as Aeglaeca's, issuing no sound as the maiden rose to her full height, towering over him and clutching the silent bundle to her chest. "Here ends Kyrilu. The prolific warrior that everyone loved. That everyone adored. But none more so than his wife. The wife that was left behind with a promise that her hero would return swiftly to her caring embrace."

Kyrilu looked up into her icy blue eyes, his body starting to shiver and become cold. But not due to the snow.

"Do you understand," she spat, "how many suns have passed in your absence? How difficult it is to raise a child alone? I lured the demon here to weaken you. To make your heart an easy target, as was mine. Now ... Now you shall be alone. Forever. Just as your once tender wife shall be."

Her gentle nose wrinkled, a bizarre expression coming over her face as she did so. Kyrilu cried out silently as the maiden glanced down to see the Legend's crimson sword protruding from her bosom.

As the blade slid backward, the maiden fell sideways and Kyrilu's fuzzy vision took in the figure of a youngling.

"Draca Damyan?! Draca Damyan!" the figure cried as it flung itself beside Kyrilu. "It is I, Elwin! I thought you ought not to go on such a journey yourself! But I arrived later than anticipated, for I misjudged the mountain by foot. Oh, Airmidia! Why did this wretched wench have to take such a being from us?! I overheard her ... But I can still aid you, Draca Damyan! I can carry you to our healers. I am young and strong enough-"

Kyrilu raised a stained, shaking hand and merely shook his head, his mouth feeling incredibly dry as he coughed out his final words, "I ... am a-already dead. My h-heart has b-been killed thrice. Once by d-dagger, o-once by words and once by young e-eyes' belief."

Draca Damyan felt darkness looming as he watched Elwin for a few more seconds, finally allowing the pitch of all pitches to consume him and thus allow him to see no more.

Elwin wept beside Kyrilu's body, his own shuddering as he pressed his palms to his eyes. "Why, is this the fate for legends? For it was the fate of the Legend. Caught up in a twisted plot that ended in demise, that I was powerless to intercept. But this is not correct. Legends can't die ..."

Elwin lowered his hands from his streaming eyes and reached out for the prodigious blade lying beside the maiden. He grasped the hilt tightly in his hands and soberly got to his feet, looking once more at Kyrilu before raising the sword high above his head.

"Legends," he hiccuped, "live on."