[i]SNAKEHIDE presents An original SHORT STORY series[/i] - If it were any other pair of Guardians, I would emphatically and grammatically say “no.” But, because, hey, who doesn’t appreciate a love story once in a while, I’ll tell you. You remember the beginning: two Guardians, Rys and Tetra, who bound themselves to each other for life on the word of the Evertree, a sentinel of oaths and bonds. From then on you were regaled with stories of their adventures from that year. So you watched and waited. And when all was bright and tender, we lost all to the mother of all space rhinos. Dominus Ghaul. From there, our story resumes. - - [i]Earth, the Last City The day the Cabal attacked Rys[/i] The last thing the Warlock could remember was falling from the sky, staring up at the caged Traveler with a sense of distinct peace. No dread filled his mind, no fear clouded his heart. He was still. And then he met the ground. He wasn’t dead – that much he knew. Though he wasn’t dead, he had an excruciating amount of pain emanating from almost everywhere in his body. One of his legs is severely bruised, the other twisted into a direction it isn’t meant to. Rysedian Buern fights the urge to scream in agony and alert all nearby Cabal forces to exactly where he was. “Damian,” he seethes. “Help. Please.” His Ghost's voice is garbled, crackling. “I don’t think I can. The Light is gone. I feel nothing. Can you stand?” Rys tries to lift his head to no avail. He attempts to move his arm and instantly regrets it. “Not happening.” “I’ll contact Trinity, maybe she—” “Tetra!” Rys eyes widen and he rolls over to his stomach, searching the plain of rubble ahead of him for any sign of her. “She fell with us. She has to be close.” “Agreed. But you’re in no state to go and find her. You’re close to critical condition, Rys. And I can’t heal you without Light.” “Then we do it the old fashioned way,” replies the Warlock. “Is there anything nearby I can set my leg with?” A short pause. “Not from what I can tell. My vision is fuzzy, though. Agh, what did the Cabal do to the Traveler?” “They didn’t kill it,” Rys says, looking desperately around him for pieces of wood – anything to set his leg. “But they did trap it somehow.” “So: free the Traveler, restore the Light, and we’re done.” Rys can almost see his Ghost rolling his eye. “Easier said than done, Rysedian.” “Not helping right now. Help me focus on our first objective: finding Tetra.” “As you say. Trying to scan now. Ugh, still blurred. I doubt I’ll be able to pick her apart from the rest of the rubble. Sorry, Rys.” Rys grits his teeth and gazes across the field of debris and destruction, hoping to find a clue – any clue as to the whereabouts of his friend. He’s still looking when a Cabal soldier approaches and slams the butt of his rifle against the Warlock's head. All is black. [i]Cornelia[/i] Quietly, the Scarlet Lady hums as she picks apart the petals of a flower. Absently she glances at the burning city leagues ahead, and smiles slightly. She sits on a rock just outside a forest – the one, no doubt, Guardians would be seeking shelter in soon. She could smell the fumes of war already. “What are you doing here?” an indignant voice asks behind her. “You know better than to be this close to the city!” Cornelia turns and stares at the face of Tyra Karn. “Really, aunt, you concern yourself unnecessarily. I even stepped onto the streets of our beloved city.” The woman’s face turns pale. “You did what?” “Mmm. Wasn’t that exciting.” “What did you do, Cornelia? Everything you do, foolish as it may seem, has a reason. I’ve come to realize that. Your father was the same way.” The Warlock hisses. “Shut it, woman. If you must know, I put a bullet in my ex's head. No big deal. He was rezzed, of course. But I made certain he knew it was me.” “No more games,” Tyra says, resolute. “Get out. You may be my niece, and I love you as one, but this is the worst time to be a Guardian. Go, Cornelia.” Cornelia stands and tosses aside the flower, now bare of petals. She passes her aunt as she says, “It's ‘madam.’ And I am only leaving because I have other work to do. Nothing that concerns you,” she adds before Tyra can speak. “Leave me be to my vengeance.” “Once again you have focused in to much on the wrong matter. It will kill you eventually, Cornelia. And neither I, or anybody else will be able to save you from it.” The red Warlock frowns, her back turned to Tyra. “That's the idea.” [spoiler]I know like this much *pinches fingers* of Tyra's backstory, so correct any mistakes I might have made, by all means.[/spoiler]