Of Forgotten Days and Lost Worlds

By Shiva Winters

~* Book Two of the Salak'patan Series *~

The hands of the clock turn and life moves on, at least it does for most people. For Monorth there is always the memories of days long past and a pair of green eyes that will never fade from his senses. It was those same green eyes that changed his world forever, it is those same green eyes that his has missed every day since they were taken from his life forever. And though time has passed and the world has changed little by little, the memory of those eyes still haunts him. But even though the memories will not fade and the clock keeps ticking, the shadows that eclipse the souls of all people return to reek havoc upon his life once more. Though his career as an Agent of the Center seems all too ready to end, the need to honor those beliefs instilled in him by that long lost love compels him to take on one last mission. When he learns the truth Monorth is forced to betray the very thing he had willing dedicated his life too once upon a time, and he must turn his skills against the very people he once called friends. He must betray everything he believes in order to stop a war that has already happened once. When is it right to destroy a thing in order to save it? When is the end really just the beginning of something else?

Question and doubts quickly consume his days and haunt his nights, filling him with nothing save an emptiness even greater than than what was left behind when the one he was meant to love forever was snatched from his life. With an aching soul and a broken heart, he follows a whisper away from the world he knows and out past the borders of what has been forgotten seeking an answer to a question he does not know how to ask. There beyond that edge, where danger and mystery lingers untouched since the end of the last great war, a path emerges leading him towards that unknowable future. He meets many a strange character, has many a secret whispered in his ear, and finds enough mystery to fill a lifetime with questions. And somehow, somewhere within that tangle of disconnected experiences the truth he wished for all along begins to emerge. While the path to the future is never clear to those who walk it, sometimes one needs to step through the gates of the past in order to begin the journey.

The continuation of the Salak'patan Series, and the sequel to Once Upon Another World.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shiva Winters
• Release date: Mar 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465719645

Shiva Winters

I know, I am supposed to come on here and give everyone some deep insight into who I am and the nature of my existence, but for all that I have been writing for better than half my life and have been publishing the results of those efforts for several years, I have not in the past nor will I likely in the future do such a thing. To be perfectly honest, I am simply and without question just not that interesting, personally or professionally, perhaps that is an assessment that is overly humble or unfair, but it's a truth that is nevertheless fundamental. In a day and in the age when seemingly everyone is all too eager to document their every personal detail and display their every passing thought, I personally can find no compelling reason to do the same. Call it a quirk, call it a choice, or call it my own personal form of crazy, but there is me living through the dull-drums of existence and there are my books which at their core are the stories I've told myself over the years, and one category is considerably more interesting to me than the other.When I first started writing, all those years ago, I didn't begin by putting words to a page for profit, or because I had delusions that one day I'd be celebrated for my efforts. I did it because it seemed like it might be a good way to pass the time, and in that moment, though I hardly understood it at that time, I found something when I wasn't looking for it. Since then, as time has passed, and I have honed my abilities, the underlying element of that moment of self-discovery hasn't truly changed, Entertainment. I don't write books because I can, I certainly don't write them for the sake of profit, though there is a glimmer of hope that one day there might be more of that. I write books because it's fun for me, it is my own strange kind of hobby and my own odd form of self-entertainment. And even if were to reach a point on some future day where the scales tip and I feel that this whole attempt to publish the results of my efforts is no longer viable, I will undoubtedly keep writing, if only for my own sake. I first published my books after a long and troubled decision making process, which ultimately weighed out marginally in the favor of the idea, that perhaps because I liked my books a great deal, that perhaps there were people in the world who would find an equal amount of joy in them. While at times there has been good reasons to doubt that belief there have been moments when that belief has proven true.I am not like most writers, that is a truth best acknowledged right up front, I don't write my books thinking to imitate another author with their pulse pounding action, high drama, or unending tension. I write the stories I find interesting, create the worlds I think are cool, to follow the characters I like, through the events that unfold in front of both them and myself as we work our way towards whatever may come. I don't plot out my novels, I don't outline the story, I don't pre-program the dialogue, and often enough even I am surprised by the end of the current chapter as things change on a whim. My books are an organic process that grow and shift, free from over-sight and restrictions and ultimately often lead to place not even I can predict. Whether those who read my books like what comes of my strange hobby is more often than not is my very last concern, and while I might feel compelled to apologize for that being the case, it doesn't or won't change the facts in the end. Each book and each series I write are a result of the page's progress through the succession of each line and paragraph, loyal only to the facts on the page and require only the input of myself as a conduit in allowing those words to progress through their natural courses. So the end results of those efforts often enough take a path not even I expected, but I for one won't and will never change that fact.My books are often strange and unexpected, I feel it is only right to acknowledge this, and there have been some in the past who have taken exception with that fact, angry that I did not meet their expectations. But I did not write my books for them, I wrote them for myself, selfish though that is, and I certainly did not publish my stories for them. Ultimately I publish my books for the small percentage of people who might read them and like them, and for the occasional bits of far flung joy I get from having people tell me how and why they enjoyed something I wrote. If you are one of those readers who starts a book with expectations and the belief that it is the writer's job to meet those expectations, please look elsewhere. But if you are one of those readers who reads simply for the joy of it, without expectations of what you might find, than I hope you will like what I have written.

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Of Forgotten Days and Lost Worlds

Book Two of the Salak'patan Series

By Shiva Winters

Copyright 2012 Shiva Winters

Smashwords Edition

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, please return to Smashwords and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author and the dedication of the Smashwords staff.

Chapter One: At the End of the Beginning

It was a subtle movement, in every day life the gesture would have been nothing, a subtle thing that could have had a thousand different reasons or meanings. That reflected image was that of the shifting of a man's fingers under the unbuttoned folds of his suit jacket, it would have been unimportant on any other day and in any other places. Simply a momentary flash of movement caught in the corner of one's vision and reflected in a piece of glass across the large opulent room. Well aware of any time when someone moved too close to his back, Monorth could not by any means ignore the large hulking figure with a scarred face and the mean disposition in that moment when he moved through the quiet room and closer to Monorth. That movement had been more than enough reason to watch that reflection and that reflection was more than enough to put him in a very serious state of alert. With that one gesture Monorth became completely aware of the other shiftings around the room as more men with mean dispositions and expensive suits seemed to lean in with anticipation. The man in the most expensive suit was seated behind the desk and seemed to almost start drooling as the black metal briefcase was brought up into view. Their varied races and their looks mattered little to Monorth, since criminals universally and without question seemed to have been cut from the same cloth.

I want to see the merchandise before you see the money. Monorth rumbled in his usual deep tones. Jarden's arm jerked with surprise, Sania's composed expression almost broke as her eyes turned towards his face. The man behind Monorth seemed to take a half step back as his boss's expression fell from the heights of joy to a state quite close to rage. The two people who were actually supposed to be on his side of this potential conflict were seriously considered changing allegiances in the next tense moments that followed. Monorth remained fixed in that angry stare from the figure seated on the far side of that desk, and he glared back into those cold compassionless eyes unerringly. Boss of the gang, Emperor of his own criminal empire, and the unquestioned ruler of his fiefdom he might be, but no one won this game with Monorth and lived to tell the tale of that particular encounter. However, Monorth was not about death in this dangerous game he was about winning, so he waited long enough to make his resolve clear to everyone in that room before he continued. If you do not have it, than I have other matters that require my time. Monorth rose from his chair and turned to leave the room.

Wait.. The boss murmured even as the hired goon stepped into Monorth's path. I have done everything you have asked for.. that is just not how I do business.

I care little for your habits, this is how I do business. Monorth replied easily and without hesitation.

Very well. The boss agreed. One of my men will have to drive your vehicle, my Lord.

That is acceptable. Monorth agreed with seeming reluctance.

Prepare my car. The boss ordered his men. The room soon emptied as the three in his party were escorted outside and to the waiting air-car that had brought them to that dark little corner of that dark little city. Even as they loaded into the back seat, another car was pulling up along side so that the boss of the gang could be loaded into the back of the much grander vehicle. Monorth ignored the glares of his companions as one of the criminals slid into driver's seat in front of them. The partition rose up and all the windows were turned dark so that they would not be given any external clues of where they were going. The vehicle soon lifted up from the ground and began to move easily into the sky above the city.

What the hell are you doing?! Jarden demanded in an angry accusing tone, though he was thankfully not dumb enough to make this angry demand for answers until after a silence spell had been cast over their portion of the cabin, insuring the driver could not spy on them.

Saving your life. Monorth murmured back with supreme unconcern. He was far too old and far too experienced at this game to let himself get drawn into a screaming match with the younger agent.

What? Sania was by far more experience than her new partner, and did not seem to have the least little doubt about Monorth's abilities or insight into the hazards of working undercover assignments.

As soon as the briefcase was open, they would have pulled their weapons, killed you.. Monorth pointed sharply at Jarden who at the very least had the good sense to look a little less angry and a great deal more afraid. .. to prove what they were capable of, threatened her, if not would have killed her outright to eliminate any witnesses, before trying to blackmail me for the rest of my fictional rule as Lord of wherever you said I was from. Why sell good merchandise to some warmongering lordling when you can take the money, keep the weapons, and blackmail for a free paycheck. The only thing that stopped them from doing that straight-off was the chance that briefcase was trapped.

So what's the plan? Sania asked sounding a little less than confident in the moment, and rightly so since he did not have to tell her that her death was less than certain, since the high price someone as pretty as her would fetch black-market might have prompted her to simply be taken captive and sold.

Call your on-planet contact, have her track your com-signal and send in all the local police in.. Monorth checked the chronograph on his own com-pad. ..a half hour after we stop moving, you might not get all the credit, but knowing this sort he's taking us to his warehouse and you'll nail him with possession even if we will not be able bust him for trafficking in illegal goods.

So much time.. that's idiotic, you.. Monorth and Sania both glared Jarden into total silence.

I'll leave the rest to you. Sania agreed, Monorth nodded in return and closed his eyes as he focused on using the remaining time usefully while Sania carried out her part of the plan and reassured her partner silently that it would be useless to argue. After ten years working as an Undercover Agent for the Center, the largest military and political entity in the Salak'patan, Monorth rarely missed a trick and had invented few new ones of his own. Even if their driver was a mage, which seemed highly unlikely, it would have been hard for him to have sensed the subtle shiftings of Monorth's spells or the tiny workings of those magical goals. Monorth's spells were prepared long before they would arrived, and with Jarden sulking in one seat and Sania worrying over what might come, there seemed little reason to strike up any kind of conversation.

It had been eleven years since Monorth's life had been forever changed by events that he could never have predicted nor could have dreamed up from the depths of his considerable imagination. For the first part of his existence he had been a regular citizen of Earth, more or less content to be somewhat ordinary, and to live out his quiet days putting his imagination to good use as he became somewhat well known through his writing. It was a career that he had felt quite content in doing until a short series of strange events had lead him down a path that not even the protagonist of one of his works could ever have expected. All of those moments of time had ultimately lead him into the one event, the one thing he had never sought from life and had never thought would simply wandered into his existence, love. Looking back it now, there seemed to be no small irony involved that event since he had long ago given up on such thoughts and desires. To think that his very destiny would find him in such a fashion and that it would be contained within a pair of green eyes that could see straight into the depths of his soul, would have seemed laughable to him. But it had happened and he could no more deny those truths than he could escape them, the ink from those words had been written upon his soul.

LeShana had been beautiful, graceful, and artistic in every way and in everything she had done. Her very existence had made Monorth feel awkward and unevolved in everything he could do. Indeed, if it hadn't been for that very connection that the two of them had shared on a level beyond any understanding, he might have been bitterly jealous that such a creature could exist to mock his very existence. For her part, LeShana had been no less surprised than he had been, that such a person as himself could have been waiting for her in such a place. She had been an agent of the Center, stationed on Earth as part of vast secret conspiracy to bring Earth back from the edge of known space and reconnect it the Salak'patan. That first year had been wonderful and terrible for Monorth as he was first snatched out of his quiet little world that had been nearly consumed by the far flung fantasies of magic and heroism he used to write about. And then he was thrust into a much broader world that could have been one of those very same fantasy worlds. For a time they had been happy, as strange circumstances brought him a sister he could not have predicted, magical abilities that pushed the limits of his imagination, a love that had rooted itself in the very depths of his soul, and a new life in a world that stretched off into a distance beyond comprehension.

If he had ever thought of himself as a hero, he might have guessed that tragedy was waiting just around the corner or that trouble was brewing just beneath the serene surface of his existence. For reasons beyond his understanding he had been targeted by the evil forces of the Dark Servants, a strange and shadowy sub-culture of the Salak'patan halls. They were a people who worshiped pain and spread death wherever they traveled, a dark and dangerous force whose religious fanaticism drove them to commit evil acts in their attempts to please the gods only they knew about. Just as Monorth was nearing the end of his training to join his life-bonded as one of the agents she had served loyally for more than ten years, the dark servants struck from within the very Center that had become his home. One super-powered entity took control of two high ranking officers who would have normally guided him into the next stage of existence with LeShana by his side. And using Its' living puppets manipulated him along some course that had eventually lead directly to LeShana's death. Sarath, his half sister, had long ago said that it had been some attempt to skew Monorth's path away from a destiny that hadn't yet been revealed to them. Whatever that creatures goals had been, It had failed but at a terrible cost to him that had forever altered his world and brought pain into all the days that followed.

He and LeShana had been life-bonded in those first few awkward days after their first meeting, it was a kind of love that transcended any definitions of the word, a spiritual connection that linked their two souls on a level where even words became meaningless. The most treasured and sought after connection known in the halls, life-bonded couples were even said to be the chosen of the gods. While Monorth was never quite certain about any of that, he had loved LeShana with all of his heart and would never have wanted to be without her for even an hour, so it had seemed no small loss that were one of them to die the other would have followed shortly after. For all the poetic ramblings and whispery myths that surrounded life-bonded couples, Monorth had felt for a long time that LeShana had been the part of himself that he had always felt was somehow missing. When the confrontation with the Dark Servant came to its' conclusion, they both went into the fight knowing that it might be their last. Even in those last moments when LeShana had dedicated herself to destroying that monster at the cost of her life, Monorth had been there beside her recklessly spinning away the essence of his soul to create a spell capable of destroying that black creature before it could carry out its' final act and destroy the Center and the spells that linked all the worlds of the Salak'patan together. How and why his life was spared when hers was not, was a question that had plagued him every hour of every day since that time. They had been together for less than a year, and even still he felt her absence deep within himself in a place that would never heal.

Through many tens of thousands of years, through a history that spanned a length of time that was more than he could comprehend, all life-bonded couples had been bound together in life and death, through happiness and despair. Yet, he and he alone was forced to live on without his one true love. Even after ten years, Monorth wished that he could curse the gods who could give him such a cruel and unjust fate, wishing that he could find something or someone to blame for such a cruelty. But that had never been LeShana's way, nor she would have wanted him to pine himself into the afterlife, so with a heart that seemed perpetually broken Monorth had been all but forced to carry on in her absence. For ten years he had kept moving forward through his days and weeks and years, and carrying out the very work LeShana had dedicated herself to. She had loved being an Agent of the Center, adored the kind of work that they did everyday for the sake of people she had never met. She had believed wholeheartedly in their values, and had sworn herself selflessly to fulfilling their goals. And it was to this purpose Monorth had recklessly thrown himself into serving alongside his sister who had been LeShana's best friend for many years.

Even in this dedication to service Monorth was not without stigmas among the agents of the Center. LeShana's bright happy spirit, unceasing resolve, and rare talent had been well known and widely respected among that group. His survival had made many question his true nature, making some believe that he had been unworthy of her or that he had made some dark deal so that his life would continue without hers. It did not help that he had been stubborn since childhood, his own personality tended to clash with anyone not willing to simply accept him at face value. Jarden's own attitude was at best a very mild aversion to Monorth's presence, when compared to some that he had encountered over the years. Without LeShana to ground him into reality, many felt that Monorth had taken on a reckless abandon when it came to his life, rarely hesitating to risk the continued existence of himself and those around him. It was a reputation that was not without its' truths, making it a rare day indeed when him and his sister would find themselves working with their fellow agents. Even without the respect or assistance of their fellow agents, both Sarath and Monorth had risen through the ranks far faster than any could have predicted. Through a long series of missions they had succeed and persevered when others would have claimed that a success would have been impossible.

In a time too short a mere seven years, and at a cost pf most people's comfort, Monorth had risen to the rank of Captain a full year ahead of his sister who had taken 17 years to reach the same rank. In that time Monorth had gained a fiercesome reputation, both because of the tragedies of his personal life and his personality and because of his rather ruthless pursuit of that sense of justice LeShana had instilled in him. While they might mutter nasty things behind his back, no agent would ever dare to say such things to his face, rank or no rank, and independent of his reputation he was easily considered to be one of the most talented agents of the Center. It certainly did not hurt that he had a magical gift that was almost unequaled in history, carried a mysterious sword that knew no equal, and that his fighting abilities had yet to find a counter. Even as many grumbled mean things, it was a widely spread rumor that he was one of the few who might ascend through the ranks to lead the Center one day. Of course, these people were not privy to the changes in his personal life or the fact that his long time partner and one of the few people capable of working with him might soon retire from active field duty. And that this decision on her part might also bring an end to his rapid rise through the ranks, if not his career entirely.

We're here. Sania's soft words were enough warning to shake Monorth out of his thoughts as the air-car began to slow and descend towards a landing point. Jarden visibly took on a nervous twitch as his face tightened up and his aura became agitated.

Freeze up like that and we'll certainly be killed. Monorth rumbled at him. Jarden practically growled as he began to glare at Monorth, his hatred returning to the surface in an instant. Given focus to his dark thoughts and shaking him from his fatalism in the same moment Jarden was ignored from that moment on, Sania gave Monorth a small smile as if she understood the failings of her partner well enough to see Monorth's ploy for what it was. As the door to the car was opened they slipped into the dark interior of a massive space nearly overflowing with oversized crates, boxes, and bundles. As could only be expected of someone with the gang-bosses' character, he would never have been careless enough to allow his hands to get dirtied by the illegal goods that he trafficked, but his avarice would never have allowed him to spend more money hiding all of it in multiple places around the city for the sake of safety. The enormous warehouse was a consolidated cache of illegal goods that made Jarden's presence go cold, and Sania's presence vibrate with a twinge of excitement. The two of them had probably taken on this sting mission at the promptings of the potent rumors that surrounded the Yanoi syndicate in the underworld circles where most undercover agents worked, but Monorth doubted that neither of them had expected something of this scope when they had taken on the job.

Impressed? The Boss asked as he exited his car, more than ready to toot his own horn.

Marginally. Monorth murmured in return. Boxes are boxes, they are meaningless to me if they do not contain what it is that I desire.

This way then. The boss murmured disappointed by Monorth's lack of enthusiasm before they were lead through the maze like tangle of paths and across the dust choked warehouse. With such thick shadows it might have been hard for some to recognize that the number of underlings guarding them had grown considerably, for Monorth it was merely a given. They soon enough arrived in one particular area of the warehouse and were presented with a seemingly innocent mass of boxes that were anything but typical. Marked in English and with the symbols of that world's military practically dripping from the crates, Monorth was once again confronted with the most glaring paradox of the Salak'patan.

As the lid was lifted free and the contents of those crates was revealed one by one, it wasn't hard to think about one of the primary missions that all agents held close to their hearts at all times. Some 100,000 years before any of them had been born, there had been a war, the war of the Great mages. It had been a time when the previous society had seemed to tear at its' very roots, as a powerful few had lead all on the path towards self destruction. Armed with knowledge and power the Great mages had fought with weapons of terrible destruction in an attempt to achieve supreme power over the halls. Entire races of people had become extinct, entire civilizations had been utterly destroyed, entire worlds had blinked out of existence, and the death and destruction of that time still echoed through all the days proceeding and following that one. When the war had ended abruptly new laws and a new leadership had been established at the Center, the world at the very heart of all the distant halls and all the worlds those massive spells brought together. One of the very first edicts passed by the survivors of those terrible times was to outlaw all weapons of mass-destruction, banning those means of indiscriminate death for all time, and restricting the means of war. From hand-guns to nuclear bombs to planet killers, technology was never again supposed to play a part in the wars of the future. While a sword or a knife could be lethal in skilled hands, it was not by any means the indiscriminate means of death that a single firearm could be in the wrong hands. Having lived on Earth before its' nature had been changed Monorth had seen practically first hand the kind of tragedy that could be wrought by a single weapon in the hands of one with evil in their heart. While magic could represent a destructive force far worse than most weapons, it was a force wielded by those with the skill, and required long training. Should one use it for evil it was possible to seal it away from those people without taking their lives.

Hmm. Monorth murmured as he lifted the rifle free of the packing material. A product of death from the bowels of Earth industry, it and every weapon like it had been marked for destruction before Earth had returned to being a world of connected to the halls. But those crates were further evidence that once again the pursuit of money had overcome some souls' better nature. It was not until Monorth located the ammo supplies that he was able to let the spells he had been holding in the background activate and spread towards their targets. Within moments, the little scene would play out and it took only a single look for Sania to know that the time was close.

What do you think? The boss asked with his eyes gleaming with avarice once again.

I think.. Monorth murmured softly as he turned slowly towards him. .. you are under arrest. Monorth held up his badge as an agent of the Center, and all at once there were two dozen weapons being held on them. Put down your weapons and no one gets hurt.

So very brave in the face of your imminent deaths. The boss glared and growled. With a snort that held no real humor, Monorth clicked his fingers and activated his spells. In a rapid series of a few chaotic seconds, two dozen explosions ripped out around them sending a wide reaching spray of shrapnel and burning metal through the air as all the weapons held on them exploded in a wave, as the bullets inside the guns seeming to self destruct completely on their own. As smoke filled the air and sudden silence followed Monorth dropped the magical shields that had protected the three of them. All the men were now on the ground screaming, bleeding, and wounded by the weapons they had turned on others.

As I said you are all under arrest. Monorth rumbled while Sania and Jarden stared slack jawed at the destruction that spread out on all sides of them.

How? Jarden demanded in a stunned voices.

Fire elementals, summoned back there in the car, they'll do just about anything if a mage offers them enough energy. Summon them, feed them, tell them to target the bullets inside the guns. Monorth rumbled as he began to check who was still alive and who was not.

By the time that the local police arrived on the scene two or three of the gangsters had died and the entire contents of the warehouse had been secured by the three of them. There was no few questions to be answered as the arrested criminals were escorted under guard to the local hospitals. The local office of Center agents appeared a short time later to take over the long process of destruction, conviction, and clean up that would undoubtedly follow. Their arrival meant that no cop on the take would have the time to line their pockets with bribes, and would insure that Sania and Jarden would get the credit for the bust. For Monorth it meant that could soon make his exit from that place and escape back to greener pastures and quieter moments. He had only been involved in the operation for less than a day, and considered his role to be a minor one, a warm body and a new face that could lend credence to the back story the other two agents had created in the first stages of their operation. If Monorth hadn't been at loose ends, chances were he would never have been involved in the first place.

When his questioning was more or less at an end and when the police and the agents moved onto other things, Monorth slid to his feet and wandered away. Only the Sergeant in charge of the local office seemed to take note of him, giving Monorth a respectful nod from across the distance. Not needing any other words Monorth created a pass-through across the surface of that world and left the scene of the warehouse far behind. He arrived at the bare, rather dingy room the other two had rented as their hide-out during the operation and gathered his things in the silent shadows. Leaving a note to tell them of their good work, he excused himself from the scene of their operation and quietly created a magical gate to take him off that world and eventually towards home.

As was often the case at the conclusion of some mission, Monorth's first destination was not his home. Though he was rarely present at his actual home because of the constant stream of missions, he kept his official residence at the Center like most agents. But unlike most agents his years in the halls had brought no small amount of monetary success. Some of it was due to the success of his literary career, wealth accumulated over the years and transferred over into the gold standard of the halls during the transition of Earth into the halls, but the bulk of it could be considered his inheritance. Through a set of circumstances that could have come out an overblown dramatic novel Monorth's birth had been anything but ordinary. Sarath was only his half sister, the official child of that loveless marriage of the mother they shared, and her father the noble lord of an Imperial household. Their mother had been married off young, far too young, a marriage of political alliances and money, to a cruel man whose only interest in her was the political influence he could gain and any heirs he could force upon her. Sarath had been born first, a year or two after the marriage contracts had been signed, after which her father wandered off to seek out the beds of every other girl to catch his eye. And Sarath and her mother were left alone and forgotten, later their mother fell in love with a man who was perhaps the first one to ever show her a little kindness.

Monorth was the result, while his own father left her side to further his career and gain the position he would need to take her away from her loveless marriage, Sarath's father found out about the unexpected pregnancy. Their mother were exiled to a far off estate and put under the guard of the Lord's most loyal men, who were given orders to watch his mother, wait out the pregnancy, and kill the child when he was born. That would have been the end of Monorth's story save for the first of the strange events that seemed constantly to guide his life. His mother's most loyal servant went with her, the woman who had raised him as her own child and the person who he had considered to be his mother for most of his life. She was a paladin of Seletra, a servant of the goddess of the winds, long since given the mission to protect his mother from circumstances that were never made clear to her. She was the one who had killed the guards, and took him from the dying arms of his mother whose neglect, lack of proper medical attention, combined with childbirth had brought her to the end of her life. To save him from the backlash, Janis carried him to Earth, to a world where his existence would remain a secret separated from the halls.

After LeShana had brought him back from that short lifetime of exile, the truth of his birth had became the private knowledge of his real father and to his Uncle, the Emperor of the Black Raven Empire. Sarath's father was now spending the rest of his life in the blackest prison of the Empire, locked away from the life of privilege that had been his only goal. His vast assets had been seized and then divided up between Sarath, Monorth, Janis, and Simon, Janis's son. It was not money that Monorth would have wanted but his Uncle had insisted and when the Emperor had made up his mind there were few forces in the universe capable of making him change his mind. The money lingered in banks and investment firms, slowly growing like some slumbering monster. Part of the inheritance was the Manor house on Black Raven Prime, a setting several hundred miles away from the capital city of the Empire, tucked away at the heart of a massive area of untouched forests, the former owner had used it as a hunting lodge. For Monorth it was just unwanted reminder of a life he never really wanted, but its' large size and empty spaces seemed reasonably capable of containing all the things Monorth did not need on a day to day basis. In all the years of being an agent, it had proven necessary to recreate his appearance and identity time and time again so it had been easier to simply store away all the clothes and other accessories that went into such character changes, in case they were ever needed again.

Since they had been doing the same job for all that time, his sister had much the same needs as he did, and unlike him for her there had been more than enough bad memories of her father to prompt her to sell off all of the properties she had inherited so she had come to use the manor in much the same way as he did. In addition to having become something akin to a very large closet, the manor served other purposes besides being their staging area for operations, more specifically it also housed Monorth's laboratory and work shops. It hadn't been long before Monorth proved quite adept at combining magical spells with bits of technology and in a job where it was quite common for them to be significantly outnumbered, any small tactical advantage was always welcome. Since the Center had often enough tried transfer him into their research division so that they could suck his brain dry of ideas, it had been prudent to simply stop displaying that aptitude and to keep his continuing inventions locked away in the background. In this capacity most of all the manor had at least made it useful for all that it was unwanted, so it was often a place he and Sarath visited in some ways more than the places they called home.

This day, Monorth was only there to drop of the rich clothing he had worn as part of the job and to check for any messages left by the family. With a job as dangerous as being a Center agent, and a family as famous and notorious as his, it had been an easy decision to keep the two worlds as separated as possible. While Monorth was a poor civil servant with no real wealth save his salary from the center, Taloni Demor a minor noble of the Black Raven Empire and was quite well off. Lord Demor had been created more out frustration than any real need to have the vaulted status of being landed gentry, since there was a need of some figure to officially lay claim to his small fortunes and properties so that everything looked good on financial reports and deeds. He was Monorth's only 'official' identity and not even the Center should be aware that agent Monorth and Lord Demor were two people that were actually the same. More a figure head than anything else, Lord Demor had never actually appeared in public, and chances were he never would.

The Center was more than just the world at the heart of the Salak'patan, the massive and ancient spells that linked billions of worlds together through a seemingly endless series of magically created halls. It had been a site where the battle for power during the Mage war had been its' most fierce. After that war had ended the armies left behind had fought for control over it, believing that whomever remained in possession of that world would somehow come to rule the entire realm of the halls. That was about the time that the Great council had been established, with the massive force of agents there to protect it and enforce the laws that place created. The Great council was the largest ruling body in all of the halls, comprised of ambassadors and representatives from every major government, religion, organization, and guild in the halls. They were supposed to negotiate disputes between warring governments, create laws for safety of all citizens of the halls, and guide the agents along the path to enforcing the new and old laws.

While a few small cities and a handful of small towns existed on that world, most of the activity on that world was focused on the massive crater of a long dead volcano. It was there that the one tangible piece of the Salak'patan rested, a massive shaft of glowing crystal 12 meters tall, five meters thick, with a faceted surface. It hung high above the earth and stone of the crater hovering and contained within a massive stone chamber, a domed shaped room of stone that rested above the rim of the crater and was held there by four massive stone arches that curved down the crater below. The interior and exterior surface of the crater itself bristled with large stone balconies that hung out over the steeply sloped surfaces of gray stone. The council chambers of the Great council were close by, a single chamber built on