Celestia
The Water Temple
Chapter 5

The light from the pale moon reflected a slight light on the tops of the clouds. Huge blue eyes looked for an opening with the little light they had to work with. The stars were in full force, the only light to hide them being the controller of ebb and flow. A huge black mass flew low amung the clouds. Lightning danced within them, revealing a huge winged dragon. Blue wings caught the wind and the dragon flew higher. Finally the beast spoted a break in the clouds and in moments began its descent to the ground. An unfrotunate cloud passed before the great dragon as it dived. The instant the dragon passed through the cloud, it began to solidify. What emerged from the cloud had the wings of a dragon, but no longer was a huge mass. Scales had been replaced by pale white skin. The female form beat her wings once more, quickly dodgeing the falling cloud in its icy tomb. Rain began to pelt the dragon, turning to ice as it touched her skin, falling to the ground like hail.
The dragons view was now of a full, well lite city. The lights from the port city of Aqurah reflceted off the ocean that ws barely in sight. <The huge collesium, the only place in the city that was pitch black, was easily noticable.> The dragon smiled, her face hidden by the rain and darkness, and in a moment she was freefalling to the city.

The barkeep had been busy all night, with the rain brought anyone off the streets that could afford a drink into his place of buissness. The barkeep grew nervous, the tavern was full of people, and drinks needed to keep coming constantly. These nights were good for buissness, but bad for his <page<apprentice>>. It was his <page's> second trip to his distributer, picking up more ale for the drunken patrons. The barkeep was worried however, it was already late, well past his closing time. The company that kept that streets at night was not always the friendliest, and with the storm that was devastating Aqurah, his page might be an easy target for theives. The horse the page took also was not the brighest, and would be easily spoked by the sound of thunder. None the less, the young boy had volunteered to do the job, it was his funereal.
"Barkeep, i need three more ales!" A patron spoke.
"As do I, but make it six." Another spoke up.
At this rate the ale would be gone long before the page returned, still he needed to satisfy his customers. Thoughts of counting his coin came to him and he smiled while pouring the nine drinks. It would be a long night, and might last until sunrise. Most of his rooms were already taken for the night, and the fear of someone passing out in the tavern came to him. He smiled once more, it was nothing his bouncer couldn't take car off. After pouring and distributing the drinks, he took the glasses the waitress had left. He withdrew his favorite rag from his pocket and began to clean.

<Describe the page more, hair and such>

How much the horse jumped at every slight sound annoyed the page. Although he had volunteered to gather ale not once, but twice for the barkeep, he had no barginned on being given such a scared horse. His clothes were completly soaked through. His bones, and his body both fellt the chill of the wet night. The storm had come from no where and seemed like it would never end.
The horse <whatever its called when they jump up in the air.> yet again and the page had had enough. He lept down from the cart, detemrined to tie the horse to its reigns even tighter. He went to the back of the cart, checked his cargo, and took a rope that held down the barrels of ale. The men at the dock always used to many ropes, so this one would not be missed. The page remembered what the men had said to him the first time he witnessed them tie down a barrel. "Better safe then sorry.". With this the page agreed, which is why he found himself questioning his life choices. He was in a very bad part of town and really shouldn't have stopped to do his buissness with the horse. Quickly he walked to the horse. He placed his hand on its nose, to show that he was a friend. Slowly he began to tie the rope around the reigns. One moment the horse was calm, the next it <whatver its called when the jump in the air>, knocking the page into the mud the road had kicked up. Throwing several curses at the horse, the page rose to his feet. He bent down to pick up the end of the rope.
"Quite a night to be making a delivery, isnt it young page?" The female voice that came from behind him caused him to jump. Slowly he turned to meet a sharp blade. The women held the knife firm, but not piercing, to the page's stomach. It was to dark to see her garb, and the rain hid her face well. The page looked around and saw several other dark figures standing near her. A look of panic came to his face.
"Good, i see you've noticed my associates, now there will be no more trouble." The females voice became more sinister. A look of agony crossed the pages face as he felt the blade penetrate his skin. In one swift movement the women cut the man. The page fell to his knees, holding his gut. He hit the ground hard, but couldnt tell, the pain was overbearing on his mind. He laid in a puddle as many pairs of feet ran past. He thought he heard the horse <neigh> once more, but his thoughts were on his parents. He had always wanted to make them proud. How would they feel when they found out he died at the hands of thieves. The colors of his visions began to blur. This was the end for the page as the rain began to chill. His brethe began to rasp, his last becomeing deeper and deeper.
He watched as the rain turned to snow, he thought this was the last gift of his mind, he had always loved the snow. Someone tripped over his body and brought his conscious back. He lifted his head slightly to see one of the thieves that hid in the shadows. The theif had a look of terror on his face. He was grabbing his throat as his face turned red. Suddenly the theif was still, dead. For a moment the page wondered if the theif had experiance the same colors and thoughts that he himself had only moments ago.
Pain shot through the page's body as he lifted himself to a sitting posistion. He looked all around as a light, white substance coated the ground around him. The snow had not been a trick of his mind, it had actually fallen. The warm summer heat was also missing, and the page could see his brethe. Suddenly, right in front of him, the female theif that had stabbed him stood. Her blade was drawn and although the page couldn't see her face, he knew she was scared. <The shaking of her legs and the unsure steps she took gave her fear away.>
"Show yourself monster!" The theifs voice brought her fear to light. The page attempted to track the theifs vision by the back of her head. He looked forward into a dark off-alley, devoid of light. Other then the soft wind that played gentely with the snow, the night was silent. The theif called out once more. Nothing happened.
"It's a witch!" One of the male theifs yelled. He attempted to run but, the female theif who stabbed<the page>, grabbed the man by the collar. A threat was exchanged and the man <woreingly> returned to his position.
"Come out mage! You've had your fun." The leader of the theives called into the dark alley. The page thought for a moment. There had been many powerful mages that had come into the bar that<was the origin of> caused his prediciment. He had seen the most powerful of ice mages do little more then change a cup of water to solid form. If a mage truely was hiding in the alley, what amazing power he must hold.
The female theif motioned her hands and two men ran to her side. Words were exchanged and reluctantly the two men began to creep into the dark alley. The page grew dizzy again. He looked to his wound, blood still flew freely from his wound. He attempted to reach into his pocket to find anything to use to stop the bleeding.
Suddenly screams were heard from the alley. The page reverted his eyes to the alley just in time to see the two men fly from the darkness. The female leader quickly dodged the bodies and rolled right in front of the page. As she looked up she met his scared eyes. Fear filled both of them, yet the leader had retained enough <disposition> to grab him and lift him to his feet. Once again the page felt a sharp blade against his body, but instead of his stomach, his neck met the steel. For the first time the page was able to see what had happened. The men that had gone into the alley had met death first hand. Their bodies dangled from the wall of stone, adjacent to the alley. The men had been pinned by something<or, the men were held by a huge mass that had penetrated each stomach>. Before the mage could figure out what held the men's lifeless bodies to the wall, his head was jerked to the alley by the female theif.
Two light blue orbs stood against the darkness. They we're small orbs, almost like marbles. The page suddenly relized that these were the eyes of death. The eyes dissappeared suddenly. The page wondered if this was a trick of death, he was beyond saving now as his blood was running low.  <Suddenly, the sound of metal caused the page to stress his neck against the blade held there.> The male theif that stood to his capitors right had dropped his knife. The male theifs face was twisted with agony. He was not taking new brethes, he was suffocating. Then all at once, the theifs body went limb and he fell to the ground. His lungs let lose one final brethe, steam coming forth from his mouth. The sound of more metal hitting the ground followed by <grunts> from the other theives caused the female theif who held the page to tighten her grip on his arms. The page imagined that the other theives had met the same fate as there counterpart. He silently wished that the female holding the blade to his life would fall. Yet she did not. The blade pressed tighter against his neck as something began to come from the dark alley.
A petite form stepped from the darkness. The blue eyes returned and gazed at the page, <as if searching his soul for an answer to an unknwn question.> The page felt like he was suffocating, the blade at his neck didnt help, he was ready for the end. Suddenly the pressure from his neck was gone and the page fell to his knees. His hands braced the ground and he took his first full, deep brethe. Regaining what little he had left inside himself the page turned to where the female theif had been. His eyes met hers just in time. Her eyes were full of pain and confusion, then all at once, peace. The page suddenly pitied the women that had a hand in taking his life. Her death had looked so painful yet a peaceful expression was the last her face would show. She let out a horrible sounding gasp which was accompanied by steam from her lungs. She was dead.
The page did not feel relief or joy from the death of the theif. He knew he was next. He put his head down. He silently wished that his last view in life could have been more beautiful, <the dirt road was ugly> and unfriendly. He wanted to remain strong and face death, but as he attempted to push himself up he fell hard to the dirt. The blood lose was to much. His body began to tingle. His pain faded, his vision blurred, his final tears began to trail down his face. The snow fell lightly, the cold flakes giving him one final kiss in life. A faint voice reached out to him and called him from the doors of death.
"Be still young one." a fragile voice spoke. This was the voice of an angel, coming to save him. A great light filled his vision casuing him to close his eyes. Through the dark of his lids the light still reached. Warmth came over him. His body no longer held the feeling of death, but of life. Thoughts of his parents returned, he knew he would see them again.
The light began to dim and once more he opened his eyes. <Pale white arms were retracting themselves inside the strangers cloak.> The page knew he was safe. The snow fell lightly now, no longer harsh. The young man, still quite friendly with the dirt, checked his wounds. Although he could feel the blood from his neck had stopped, what amazed the page was the condition of his stomach. Where steel had once pierced, there was nothing. At least nothing he could feel. An angel had saved him.
The pain that had subsided now gave the page hope. He knew this stranger was good, and he slowly made his way to his feet to face them. <As he stood blue orbs studied him, blue eyes.> There was a kindness in the look the stranger gave him. His lips begged him to thank the angel, but as they opened his eyes filled with horror.
The page knew that the two theives that had charged down the alley had met gruesome deaths, but he didn't grasp the full extent until <right now, this moment>. The thirsty weeds that escaped from the unkept wall the men now hung from had their quenched filled by a mixture of water and blood. The page began to trace the cloudy red waters origin. The horror that filled his eyes easily matched the gruesome death the two men had met. Petruting from the mens chest were huge, cold, and deadly cones made of solid ice. The mage imagined how sharp the tips must have been to have completed their task so perfectly. <Drip after drip kissed the weeds below.> The return of the harsh rain upon his head broke his vision from the death of the theives. The snow had vanished altogether and the rain was colder then before. Yet the feel of the drops hitting the page's skin was the best feeling he had ever felt. He was alive.
The page turned just in time to see the cloacked figure returning to the shadows.
"Wait!" The page hoped his words would reach the stranger in time. He was afraid of the mysterious figures powers, but they had saved him. Excitement came over him as the figure reemerged and looked to him. For a moment it was awkward, but the page regained his mind.
"Thank you." The page was dissapointed with himself. This person had saved his life and the only thing he could think of saying to thank them was the word itself.
"It wasn't your time young one." The page's thoughts were inturupted by the reply. The young page could tell this was the voice of an angel. the light sound that came from the lips was obviously female. The page searched the blue eyes that stared at him from underneath the dark hood for any kind of response. She had saved him and still he had no way of thanking her. She made a slight bow with her hooded head and began to turn once again toward the dark alley, alone with only the graditude she recieved from him. The page stressed for more words to come to his mind and finally as she was slipping back into the shadows, they came.
"Do you have a place to stay?" The page called out. For a moment he belived that his words had been drowned out from the heavy rain that continued to fall. The women turned her head slightly. For a moment the only sound that could be heard was that of battering rain on the enviroment around them.
"I am a page at an Inn not far from here, please, take a room!" As the page spoke he moved closer to the mysterious women. He nearly tripped over the limb body of a fallen theif. The body reminded him what had happened moments ago. He looked around. It was as if he had been in some great battle. Bodies lay scattered about. Alltogether, including the two that made their deathbeds on the unkept wall, twelve had died on this night. Some of their faces were twisted with pain, some were completely at peace. It was as if judgement had been passed upon them, some finding peace in their final moments, the others, anquish. The page looked curiously at the angel that stood before him, this women, was she really an angel, or a devil?
"No one will bother you, I promise, at least let me grant you shelter in exchange for my life." The page hoped to win the battle to convince her, if only to thank her. The women stepped closer to him. Her cloak was ragged and old. Small holes found themselves painted all over, but non revealed the clothing undeneath. She was now only feet in front of the page and he grew nervous. Her pale arms showed themselves once more from underneath her hood. They reached for the covering and slowly pulled the hood away. For the first time the page saw his savior. The snow had replaced the rain once more and fell lightly around her. The pale color of her arms matched the coating of her face. Full red lipss, lucious and pure, allowed her words to escape. Her piercing blue eyes, the source of terror for the theives, were now gentle. The page had never before seen anyone with the color of her hair. The light blue hair looked perfect, no split ends, no signs of battle. It fell lightly to her shoulders and a few bangs hung before her eyes, long and perfcect. The page was speechless.
"I will come with you young one." The women paused slightly in midspeech as if debating on what to call the page.
"The name is Issac, and what should i call you savior." Issac said with a bow lower then he had ever bowed before. He would do whatever he could to thank her for the rest of his life. A life that now had more time thanks to her. He looked at her once more, her name still lost to him. She paused for a moment, debating on telling him. At last she spoke.
"You may call me Avonelle."

The bar had not quited down in the least. The last ale had been served and the barkeep was forced to sell his more exotic drinks at discounted prices. At this rate he would have to travel to the cellar and begin to sell his wine. The money was flowing however and the barkeep was not worried in the least about the ale. Issac, his page, had been gone far to long. At first the barkeep blamed the extra time of the page's absence on the horse he had given him, but now so much time had traveled by that the barkeep grew increasingly worried.
"Wow it's really pouring out there. I feel bad for the Valley of the Wind, they are going to get this storm full-force tomarrow." The waitress said as she approched the barkeep.
"We need another six shots for the boys." The waitress demanded the drinks intently. The barkeep cared very deeply for his tavern, his father had built it on top of a former church, a church of lunatics. It was not only his home, it was his legacy. He would pass it onto his son just as his father had to him. However, the fact that Issac was gone so long overrid his duties on this night. He would never want to lose his son, and Issac was the cloest thing he had to one. The sounds from the bell on the door escaped him as he thought more about Issac. The feelings he had inside caused him to make a rash decision.
"Hey, you need to hold down the fort." The barkeep turned to the waitress. "I'm going to go after Issac."
"No need old man." The framilier voice sent relief to the barkeep. Standing on the other side of the counter was Issac, wet to the bone, wearing a grin on his face. Although the barkeep was happy to see him, and Issac knew this, he still wore a stern face.
"It's about time, where is the ale." The barkeep cut right to the quest the page had endured, but he was very happy to see him, but his stern face told everyone else but Issac otherwise. The page knew the barkeep was reliefed, happy. Issacs smile met the barkeeps stare.
"I'll unload it in a minute, I need a room." Issac's glance turned to the hooded figure that stood next to him. Issac had always been a small boy in his youth, but the stranger was the same height as him which gave him a good feeling. The barkeep bowed his head slightly, seeing only full red lips underneath the cloak. He glanced at Issac with a questioning stare.
"Excuse us for a moment travler." The barkeep said more like a command to the cloaked women. He grabbed Issac by the arm and lead him to the back room. The page knew what was coming, but allowed the barkeep his duty. The barkeep closed the door slightly and turned to Issac.
"What are you thinking? Were you out with that women having a fun time!" The barkeep continued with his false assumptions. "And now you want a room? You forget your duties, I don't care if your at that age, the need for sex is no more important then what i pay you to do." The barkeeps face was a bright red when he finished. Issac had let him enjoy his dementia long enough, and told him his story of the eve.
"She needs a place to stay." The page finished his speech. The barkeep had not noticed the cut in the boys neck before the story. Issac also showed him the stab hole that went through his cloak. The red left the barkeeps face and he put a firm hand on Issac's shoulder, giving him a fatherly smile.
":Alright, but load the ale afterwards, we still have a lot of money to collect before the sun rises." The smile that the barkeep wore was not for the money, but that fact that Issac had survived the night.
"And we will have to do something about that horse."

For the first time in a long while, Rei felt very uncomfortable. She was surronded by humans, strangers, drunks. The boy she had saved, Issac, had been very kind to her. He had not said much on their journey to this tavern, but he was sincere. She was glad she saved him. Someone bumped her from behind. A quick apoligy followed, and the drunk carried on.
"Zero could've beat any of them!" A voice carried from the other side of the bar. Rei froze like the ice she commanded. Her heart stood still, refusing to pump life into her. Her brethe became rapid, and then lost. Memories came and went, good, bad, neautrel. Her love Zero came to her. She listened contently, waiting for more words to come, yet they did not. Something urged her, something controlled her from deep inside. Slowly she made her way to the other side of the tavern. Shouts and cheers rang out throughout the bar. The rain had brought a rowdy crowd to this establishment. Rei bobbed and weaved through patron, past tables, and finally came to a stop at a circle of chairs filled by man. She stood and listened to her conversation.
"He defeated the Dark Moon Dragon, how could he not be the most powerful!" A young man stood as he yelled, nearly spilling his drink.
"I say it's a hoax! No one could've defeated that evil dragon, at least if the legends are half true!" Another man said.
"No, it is true, i met Zero." A very old man spat towards the man doubting Zero.
"Impossible old man, no one has seen him in over a hundred years, he is long dead." A new voice joined the chorus of drunks. Rei winched, memories coming back, and sadness took over her.
"It's true! I met him in a dream, we drank ale, and spoke of many things!" The old man replied, taking a drink of his ale. Laughter broke out directed towards the elder. A man proposed a toast and the alchohal was consumed. Rei was about to leave the conversation, heart broken, the only thing she wanted was to get away. The pain that attacked her chest was so great, she couldnt bear it much longer. Something then happened that caused her pain to turn to anger, her blood to boil.
"Another toast to Zero, Slayer of a hundred dragons!" A drunk had crossed the line.
"SILENCE! You do not know of what you speak!" Rei heard the words leave her mouth but was in disbelief over if she had said it or not. Silence befell the group of men around her. Even with how powerful the Dragon of Ice was, she felt trapped, helpless, lost. Some men attempted to see under her cloak, but she turned quickly. Suddenly a hand came to her shoulder. As she gathered herself to fight, a framilier voice came to her.
"Let's get you to your room." The voice of Issac brought relief to Rei. The conversation beind them continued on as the page led Rei to her room.

"All right, I have to go unload the ale then head home." The page said to Rei. He made his way to the door. As he was taking his leave he turned once more to the woman.
"Thank you, Avonelle." And with that Issac was gone. Frustration came to Rei. Of all the names in the world to choose, why had she chosen that name. Something deep inside called to her, but she pushed it back. This was not a battle to be fought today. The room she was given was small, restricting. The fact that her true dragon form was larger then the whole tavern together was in itself restricting. .Although she was proud of being a dragon, she preferred both her half form, and human form, over her birth right. Not for power reasons, but for a special reason. For him. Rei recalled the scene in the bar not to long ago. Slayer of a hundred dragons, what lies! She brushed it off as she sat down on the old bed. A creek let out of the old resting place like the yawn that left Rei's mouth. She had expanded a lot of energy in her flight and needed rest. She removed her cloak, and her clothing. Her undergarments were white and cut low on her breasts. It had been a long while since she wore this piece, a long while since she walked the earth like a human. She fell to the bed once more, her blue hair sprawled out and laid under her. She brought her hand to her face and closed her eyes. Her twisted body was beautiful.
Slumber nipped at her soul and thoughts began to replace reality. Zeros face came to her mind and at once she sat up in her bed. She walked over to a small table which held withered flowers. The colors had long faded from the plantlife. No one noticed their death, just as Zero. Rei wondered how they felt to be so neglected. She took the flowers to the window. The rain battered against the skin of her arms as she set the flowers free, to be amung the earth once more. She held her hand out in the warm summer rain. The water began to trickle down her arm and froze before it reached her elbow. Stream and dtream made new trails along her arm, joining with her veins. Rei closed her eyes and summoned her spell.
The trails of ice twisted off her arms, each entwining itself with another. Slowly the streams of ice made there way to her palms, still twisting and dancing around each other in the air. Finally when the trails met, they were high above her hand. As each new drop of rain touched the point where the trails had met, new ice formed. In a matter of moments the ice dragon held a beautiful flower in her hand. The same power she used so long ago. She brought the vase and flower back inside, laying the glass piece on the table. She placed the flower in the vase/
"At least you will never be neglected, never fade away." Rei said hused to herself. She laid a kiss to the rose and grabbed a towel from the washroom. She dried herself and was again laying in the creaky bed. She stayed awake for only a few moments, thoughts of her love always put her to sleep fast. She said his name hushed and slumber embraced her.