Adhepex City, Legend Sir Checote stared darkly into the stormy night.

But then, they lived in particularly dark times. Death, the great reaper was a common visitor in most households. And the whole world of Legend seemed to be slowly falling apart in the hands of the mysterious Dertah. Sir Checote slowly turned as the door opened to admit a scruffy looking, bald man. " I hope that you bring good news, Douglas," he said, looking at the man expectantly. " I have had enough disappointments and depressing news to last me several lifetimes." Douglas fidgeted uncomfortably in his place wishing fervently that he were a bearer of better news. He cleared his throat loudly. " I am so sorry to say this, my Lord," he stammered. " But the condition of Lord Hansley has worsened. The Healer has asked me to tell you that Lord Hansley is counting his last minutes." Sir Checote sucked in his breath sharply. When the news of the attack had reached him, he had been quite unable to believe his ears. But he had been to forced to accept the bleak reality as he had stood holding his dear friend's hands and watched his condition slowly deteriote. Blumels were the strongest among all the people of Legend, their powers next only to the Lord and Lady of the High Order. Lord Hansley was perhaps the best Blumel in the whole of Legend and more importantly his best friend. How had Dertah defeated him? Sir Checote had been wondering about this puzzle. The mysterious Dertah's power had to be much greater than that of Lord Hansley for him to have defeated one of the best Bowels of Legend. If that were true then they were in deep, deep trouble. " Prepare the stallon, Douglas," he commanded. " I am going to the Crystal Palace." The Crystal Palace stood tall and brilliant in the Valley of Shob. The castle was made of a beautiful white crystal that could capture the sun's rays within itself thereby radiating a brilliant spectrum of light. It was no wonder that the people of Legend mostly referred to it as the Castle of Light; the humble abode of their esteemed Lady of the High Order herself. It stood amidst the most beautiful garden abound with flowers of every colour imaginable. But the Blumel walking urgently along the pathway was indifferent to its beauty. Sir Checote had more pressing matters in his mind than the magnificence of the Castle. He hurriedly entered the front hall and climbed up the stairs and walked into the huge room. As he approached the bed he looked down into the worn out, haggard and chalk-white face of his best friend. Lord Hansley slowly opened his eyes and looked up blankly for a moment as if he couldnt recogonise the face staring down at him in anguish. Then suddenly his face cleared as recognition dawned on him. " Jugan," whispered Lord Hansley hoarsely. " You are here."

Sir Checote had to clear his throat twice before he could get past the huge lump in his throat and speak. "John," he said swallowing visibly. "I have just spoken to the healer. He said that you will do fine. All you have to do is to have the strong will to live." Lord Hansley made a sound that could have been constructed as laughter or a frustrated moan. " You dont have to lie to me, Jugan," he said rawly. " I heard what the Healer said and I know that I don't have any chance. I am not afraid to die. After all death is the only certain thing in one's life. No one can escape it." He took in deep gulps of air as if the effort had exhausted him. Sir Checote was immediately near him restraining him from getting up. " Dont strain yourself, John ... " " No, let me speak, Jugan," Lord Hansley interrupted urgently. " I dont have much time. What I dont understand is that how can the Prophecy fail? I am supposed to be one of the Protectors. I am supposed to protect the White Warrior. I am supposed to live long enough to help him defeat this evil that has all of Legend in its grip. But the White Warrior isnt even born yet and I have already failed him." " No, John," said Sir Checote softly, enveloping his friend's pale hand in his own. "Dont make the mistake of judging what Nature has in store for us. Even the wisest of Bowels are mystified by the working of Nature." "I wouldn't have been happy dying for the White Warrior. That is my destiny." Lord Hansley continued as if he hadnt even heard what Sir Checote had said. "But to die like this, without any use... Do you know that Lord and Lady Souran suffer the same fate as mine? Are they expected to survive?" Sir Checote shook his head bleakly. Lord and Lady Souran were the other two protectors of the White Warrior. They had been attacked the same day as Lord Hansley and they weren't expected to live long either. Lord Hansley felt the tiny ray of hope that had been in his heart wither and die. He had thought that if the other protectors were alive then the White Warrior would have at least some protection until he was ready to face the evil. But now he was defenseless. Suddenly Lord Hansley felt a deep, terrifying, darkness surrounding him, pulling him into it. He tried to surface out of it desperately, but all effort was in vain. He felt comforting warmth surround him and knew for certain that his time had come. But he couldn't die this way, he thought frantically. He had to do some thing about the White Warrior. He struggled with the last vestiges of his strength and surfaced out of the darkness that was assailing him. " Jugan," he managed to gasp. " Promise me that that you will look after the White Warrior for me. Protect him and help him to fulfill his destiny. Promise me!" "I promise," said Sir Checote squeezing his friend's hands gently." I promise you that I will protect the White Warrior with my life." Lord Hansley let out a deep breath of relief and allowed himself to let go at last, surrendering to the comforting darkness. Sir Checote sucked in his breath sharply as he felt the pale hand in his go limp. He gently laid it down on the bed and walked towards the window and stared sightlessly into the night. The future of Legend was as dark as the dark, stormy

night. He would have to devise a way to break the news to the people gently. The Protectors had been their only hope. They believed implicitly in the Prophecy. Now with the one of the protectors gone and the other two also on the way, they had little hope. They had to wait for the White Warrior. The Prophecy had come in the form of a dream to the Lady of the High Order and if it was to be believed then the birth of the White Warrior lay atleast two years in the future. As he stood staring into the darkness, Sir Checote wondered if Legend would be able to survive until then. One year later, Perdite, Legend: His Grace, the Duke of Quiet, paced about the corridors of the Castle Wentworth restlessly. Every time he heard his dear wife moan or cry out, his heart squeezed and he had to restrain himself from dashing into the bed chamber, hold her hand and tell her that it was going to be alright. The Healer had told them long back that Her Grace, the Lady Miranda was very weak and any pregnancy was bound to be difficult. But Lady Miranda had resolutely ignored all the warnings. She wanted to have children whom she could cherish and call her own and any pleading on the part of the Duke had fallen on deaf ears. Now pacing back and forth in the frustratingly narrow corridor, the Duke wished fervently that he had tried harder. His whole world revolved around his beautiful and timid wife. The Duke had lost his mother at the tender age of seven and his father had just ignored him totally, treating him as one of his possessions. He had known the meaning of love only through his wife and now if anything happened to her, his whole world would crash down around him. He should have absolutely forbidden it, but he had found it most difficult to refuse his beloved wife anything when she had pleaded with him with tears in her beautiful blue eyes. A sudden quietness fell in the bedroom and the Duke's heart almost stopped. Then he almost swooned in relief when he heard the loud wail of the baby. One of the maids rushed out urgently, ignoring all his urgent questions about his wife. The Duke tensed again. Then he heard the baby wail again accompanied by a high-pitched scream. The Duke ran towards the door determined to break it down when it opened to reveal a maid with two bundles on either hand. " The young masters, Your Grace," said the maid beaming widely. " How is Her Grace?" asked the Duke urgently. "Fine, Your Grace," replied the maid, grinning widely. " She is resting." The Duke sighed in relief. Everything was all right with his world. He looked down into the faces of his sons- they were both identical with their mother's deep blue eyes. The Duke's heart swelled with love and pride and he made up his mind then and there that he would make sure that his sons would have only the best things in life. Most important of all, they will never suffer from the lack of love. Six months later: Kiera, Legend: Jared Stone ran into the cabin and shut the door quickly. The wind

howled as it blew strongly, almost rocking the cabin. This was the worst storm he had ever witnessed in his life. It rained in torrents, the thunder roared and the lightening shook the ground. Jared just hoped that the stables didnt leak. He was bone tired and he didnt relish the thought of cleaning up the mess if the stables leaked. He wasn't young and strong as he once was. Granted that he had worked for the Brandons his entire life, but he was now too old to take care of the Manor, the stables, the garden and virtually everything in the estate. For the hundredth time he wished fervently that his master, Mr. Brandon, would employ more servants to take care of the manor. But after the death of his young wife in childbirth, Wesley Brandon had lost all interest in life, let alone the estate. Now all he seemed to care about were the twins - his two little 'angels'. He was spoiling them rotten from the looks of it and the two little girls twisted him around their little fingers. Their wish was granted, their every whim fulfilled. The window suddenly burst open and Jared sighed. The window bolt needed changing. It was then that he saw a shadow quickly disappearing into the stables. Nobody was going to take advantage of the storm and steal the stallons while he was in charge, thought Jared outraged. He quickly took the oil lantern and rushed towards the stables wishing that he were blessed with magic. Then he wouldnt have to carry around the lantern in a storm trying to keep it from burning out. But sadly he was one of the many who didnt have an ounce of magic in them. But that wouldnt stop me from catching the thief, Jared thought. He may not be a wizard, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve. He slowly entered the stables so as not to alert the intruder and picked up the iron rod resting near the door. " I know you are in there, thief," Jared growled dangerously. " I strongly advice you to show yourself. Dont even think about escaping. I am very good fighter." A tall, thin, haggard man emerged from the shadows hugging a bundle protectively to him. Oh! thought Jared. So the thief thought he could steal the supplies that Jared kept in the stables, did he? Well if he thought that he could get away with it then he had another think coming. As he looked closer at the intruder, Jared couldnt help noticing that the thief looked like he had been tortured and tortured until he had been able to bear it no longer and had somehow managed to escape. His eyes were deep pools of agony. But Jared didnt allow himself to soften. Pitiable or not, the intruder was still a thief. " Look," the man said moving closer, before Jared could say anything else. " I am not a thief. We just wanted a shelter from the storm and this was the nearest place that I could find." It was then that Jared took a good look at the bundle he was holding so protectively to himself drew in a sharp breath. Instead of the stolen supplies that he had expected the thief to have hidden into his bundle, he was staring into the face of a beautiful baby. The first thing that captured his attention were the baby's eyes. They were the colour of fresh green grass with golden flecks near the pupils. As he kept staring at it astonished, the baby up looked at him and smiled. Jared's heart melted. He would

have to be made of stone to chuck the baby out into the raging storm. He looked at the man angrily. " What are you doing with a baby in the middle of the night in a storm?" he demanded. " We are travelers," the man answered warily. " Brigit's mother and father died in an accident and we dont have anywhere else to go. I thought that I could travel south in search of work. I had heard that workers are in much demand here." " Why dont you stay here tonight? Tomorrow I'll ask the Master and if he agrees you can stay here and look after the stables." Jared blurted out. The intruder looked astonished. But his astonishment was nothing compared to what Jared felt. He had not planned to ask this man to stay. He knew next to nothing about them. Normally Jared was not an impulsive person. But as he looked at the baby, he had been filled with a strange desire to help. He had just blurted the thought that had entered his mind without thinking. The stranger looked as if he was about to refuse. Then he looked down at the baby and an expression which could only be described as devotion crossed his face. Jared was relieved. So the kid was atleast loved, he thought. And he was fairly certain that a man who was so obviously devoted to the baby could not be that bad. But nevertheless he made up his mind to keep an eye on him for a few months just to be on the safer side. " Thank you," said the stranger. " I am Hamoket and this is my niece Brigit Haines. We are very grateful." " You can sleep here tonight and tomorrow I'll see what arrangements can be made." Jared nodded briefly and walked briskly towards the cabin. The storm seemed to have passed and it was only drizzling outside. Hamoket looked down at the baby, hugging it tightly to him. " Dont you worry now, my little angel," he said softly. " You are safe now and I will not let anything to happen to you again." The baby looked up at him with a look of absolute trust in its eyes and blew him a windy smile.