CHAPTER 2

Sweat dripping down his forehead, Ackmard looks up at the sun and lets out a long sigh of exhaustion. Suddenly, a sparring Klyve comes slashing across his exposed jawline. The blow sends his body falling to the ground head first. Without a single moment of hesitation, Ackmard tucks his chin down, rolling over his shoulder in a flawless recovery. His eyes cut upwards, making contact with the gaze of his grinning foe.

"I thought we knew better than to take our eyes off of our opponents Ackmard," Cordesh says smugly to his fallen adversary.

In a fierce blur, Ackmard swings his Klyve behind his back and around the side, the dull blade making contact with Cordesh's knees. The strike brings Cordesh off his feet, sending him to the ground with an audible thump. Ackmard immediately pounces and takes his position back on his feet, resting the top edge of his Klyve on the throat of his dazed companion.

"And I thought we were taught not to let our guard down, especially in the face of a cornered enemy," Ackmard answers victoriously.

Cordesh grins.

"Hm. Touche," Cordesh responds, putting his hands up and accepting his defeat," It would appear that the House of Dalburne once again yields victory to the ever-powerful House of Feowynde."

Ackmard Feowynde smiles and lifts his blade to help the fallen Dalburne to his feet. Cordesh faces his opponent and gives him a bow laced with obvious sarcasm. The ridiculousness of the gesture, though common for Cordesh, catches Ackmard off guard. His head reels back in laughter. All too quickly, the weariness of the days practice floods over Ackmard's body as his eyes wander to the bench on the side of the field, a beautiful oasis in the arid battlefield of the Cathedral sparring grounds. He looks back at his friend and motions his head toward it, inviting Cordesh to rest with him.

Cordesh smiles and wraps his arm around Ackmard's neck and pulls him into a friendly headlock as they walk over to the bench.

"Well, despite the last bit, you gotta admit that today's matches have been pretty good." Cordesh states,"For me, at least, I know they're helping prepare for the advancement trials."

Ackmard nods in agreement. The duo reach the bench, but as they turn around to sit, Ackmard feels a change in the air around him. He pauses for a moment, hesitant, but in the end, he ignores it. Then, upon sitting down, Ackmard suddenly discovers what he had felt as the very earth beneath him begins to give way to their weight, their bodies entering free fall. They both look up to the sky of blue in surprise as their world is flipped on its axis.

The twins stare in shock at the events unfolding before them. The ground that had seemed so unchanged just moments before, suddenly reveals itself to be a pond of quicksand beneath the bench as their targets plummet to their unfortunate fate. Cries of anger and dismay burst out from below as the poor duo thrash about trying to orient themselves and find the edge.

The whole field halts to a dead standstill, some matches stopped in mid-blow, to witness the incident. Then suddenly the scene bursts with new life as a mass of bodies rush to the aid of their unlucky peers.

After taking in the whole scene, the triumphant twins join in laughter at the sight. Damien, surprising even himself at the prank's success, also begins to laugh at his work. He grips his stomach as he gasps for air, but to no avail as his spasming diaphragm expels the oxygen from his lungs faster than he can get it back in. The laughter takes control of his whole body, sending his head back to let out more cries of glee. But, his laughter is cut short and his eyes spring open in surprise, as the sudden movement shifts his balance off the wall. His companions' stares follow him, horrified, as he falls down the side of the wall, helpless to aid him.

Hands reach down and cup Ackmard beneath his arms, pulling him up from the dirt pit. He looks up to see the familiar emblem of the House of Linovahle displayed across the left breast of his savior's uniform. He smiles.

"Looks like I owe you one Dylena," Ackmard says jokingly, his voice obviously lined with anger and embarrassment at his current state.

The beautiful, blue-eyed heroine smiles as she looks down into Ackmard's silver eyes through her long, auburn colored hair. Her fingers pull on a locke of his dark smoke-colored hair, straining liquified earth that clumped between its strands. Ackmard looks at the collection of dirt on her fingertips and looks back into her eyes with a look of continued embarrassment, all too aware of the sad state of his uniform.

A small thump catches his ear, the sound coming from just past Dylena, by the walls surrounding the field. His gaze breaks from her's and follows the path of the noise, falling on the crumpled body clothed in an Academy uniform and topped with a familiar mop of crimson-red hair. A glint of light catches the corner of his eye, once again drawing his gaze to a spot not too far from Damien's fallen body. He instantly recognizes the purified Nehmacite and a glare takes over his face as the gears turn in realization of the source behind his misfortune.

Damien leans up, grabbing the back of his head, as he looks back up the wall at the spot where he fell from. He winces from his hand's contact with the bump forming at the spot. He slowly brings his hand back to his face, but lets out a sigh of relief, finding no blood on his palms.The relief, though, is quickly replaced by the rush of panic as he realizes that his hand was empty of the Nehmacite as well. He whips his body around and he finds the Nehmacite in its spot, having fallen behind him not too far away. But, his eyes begin to trail away, up from the shard, flowing opposite the chill running down his spine. His gaze stops at the point where the events of his latest handiwork had taken place. And the blood drains from his face as he meets the all-too-familiar, silver-eyed gaze that led the pack who had beaten him, mercilessly, so many times before.