Amabella

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Chatpter 1

Escape from incarsoration:

Amabella sat up. She was sitting in a prison cell. It contained a pallet, a wash basin and a chamber pot. The light source was a torch burning on the wall. Amabella wore a gray dress made of coarse wool. Her raven hair was matted and tangled. She wished she had a brush. She looked longingly out the barred window near the ceiling of her cell; too high up for her to reach. Outside the sky was dark gray, the color of her dress. She brushed her matted hair away from her face with a slender pale hand.

They can’t keep me in here forever, she thought angrily. She had been thinking this same thought for ten years now. She was very thankful that she had managed to steal the illegal ingredients needed to create an Immortal Youth Potion. She was immortally young—forever—as long as she wasn’t killed or died out of weariness of life.

You must stay strong, despair is death! She sighed and stood up.

Amabella heard footsteps coming down the passage. Her cell door had a square “flap” set into it that locked in place. It was now unlocked and a bowl of gruel was thrust in. Then the “flap” slammed.

Amabella grabbed the bowl of gruel with the usual feeling of ravenous hunger and disgust.

The one thing Amabella hated most—and the person who insulted her with it was either dead or seriously wounded—was when a person or persons called her “Bella” or “Bell”. She wouldn’t deny that she was strikingly beautiful, but her name didn’t have anything to do with beauty. It was a combination of two Latin roots Amo-are “I love and bellum-i n. “war”. Hence Ama-bella which interesting enough ama was the singular imperative for “love!” and bella was the nominative plural of “war.”

Amabella put down the empty bowl. She then lay back down on her pallet. There was sleep—trance—or madness.

I shall NOT go mad! She thought.

As she lay on her pallet trying to put herself into a trance, thoughts of how she had even got in this accursed place ran through her mind.

Yes, I remember, she thought with a slight smile on her face…

It had been during the witching hour when I began the battle—and the killing of course. I was stealing the most important ingredient for my Immortal-Youth Potion.

The grand thing about the Potion was that all one had to do was to add that last ingredient into a vile already containing the almost-concocted potion. “Yes”! I had whispered to myself as I reached up and curled my fingers around a small vial of the most illegal substance in all the world, Lydhna.

Just as I was pouring several drops into my original vial, I heard footsteps.

I shook the Immortal Youth Potion and drained the vial. Then, impetuously, I also drained the vial of Lydhna.

The footsteps drew nearer and hastened as they did so. I spun around and raised my left hand and whispered, “veni mihi!” A “hilt” made of black iron appeared in my hand. I smiled.

Let them come, let them die, I thought smiling to myself.

Suddenly, about twenty armed men came into the room. They were armed with swords, fools, and they thought that they could capture me!

“Hand over the Lydhna!” spoke a man who appeared to be their leader.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t have it anymore,” I said smiling at them. The leader glared at me. He unsheathed his sword and placed the blade against my throat.

“Where is the Lydhna!!”

“I already told you fool, I don’t have it. But if you must know, I have consumed it and am now immortally young.”

The man glared at me and attempted to gash my throat, but I stepped aside. I raised the hilt of my soon-to-be-weapon. “veni accidere!” Two blades flew out of either ends of the hilt.

“It’s time to die,” I said. I raised my staff-blade above my head and began to twirl it dangerously.

“Surrender! By the name of the King!” The leader of the men said, “or we’ll be forced to kill you.”

“Ah…but I don’t fear death,” I said.

“Attack!!!” he screamed.

I lunged at him knocking his sword out of his hand.

One of the other men lept in front of his commander and unsheathed his blade. But he wasn’t quick enough for me, I soon decapitated him. Then it was all out chaos. Oh, such sweet chaos! To bring death, the ultimate and most fulfilling—

My thought was cut short by the arrival of Rindalard, who happens to be a sorcerer, but not an evil one. I supposed one of the cowards had run to notify him of me and here he was.

“Give up Amabella, it is pointless,” Rindalard said coldly. He was a tall man with golden hair that fell to the middle of his back, in his hand he held his damned and customary golden staff tipped with a large fire-drop. All of the sword-wielding guards stepped back at the silent command of their leader.

“No, Rindalard,” I said in an equally cold voice, “I would like to keep my freedom.”

“You no longer deserve that freedom. If I am not correct, after leaving the Mage-College in Karsú, you devoted yourself to studying the Dark Arts?”

“And what if I did?” I demanded coldly.

“That’s wrong, and you know it it,” Rindalard had an expression of mingled sorrow and pity on his face which made me absolutely irate. “Why should you pity me?!!” I demanded angrily. I lunged at him intending to give him a vertically angled slice to the head, but he swung his staff and knocked my blade from my hand. It flew across the dark room and hit the wall clattering onto the floor. Suddenly I found myself surrounded by the men.

“Please hand over that interesting sword-creation of yours,” Rindalard said smoothly.

“NEVER!” I shouted, “reddo ad meam manum!” The blade rose up off the floor and soared into my waiting hand. One of the men tried to snatch it from me, but I made it vanish before he could place his non-magical and unworthy hand upon it.

“I hope you will come along quietly,” Rindalard said calmly.

“Since, I’m surrounded and I know that I could never EVER defeat you Master Rindalard, I suppose I should.” I said haughtily.

“Come on then,” Rindalard said. We all left the storeroom and headed up into the regular spaces of the Palace. We were in Karsú. Ironically enough, the fool who went to notify Rindalard wouldn’t have had to go very far considering that the Mage-College was only a few blocks away from the Palace.

But I knew where we were going, we were going to see King Arnoch, who was not only old and whithered, but self-righteous to a fault. To say the least, I really, really hated the man.

“You wish to speak to the king High Mage Rindalard?” asked one of the guards who was posted outside of the great double doors that led into the King’s throne-room.

“Indeed,” Rindalard said calmly, though the man looked a little worried. The relationship between the Royal Family, the Nobility and the Mage-College and its affiliates was rather shaky. The Royal Family and the Nobility didn’t trust each other for the obvious reason, power. And neither of the former trusted the Mage-College because it taught magic, which, by the King, his family, and the Nobles was considered distrust worthy. So one should note that I probably wasn’t going to get much help from the old fool. Though the King distrusted magic as much as any other rich nobility figure, everyone seemed to find it in their hearts to trust Rindalard.

“You may enter,” the door opened wide upon the King’s throne-room, which was magnificently furnished. We all walked in and presented—well actually, Rindalard presented himself before the King.

“Is there a problem?” the King asked. Oh, I forgot to mention that he’s also extremely fat…but that wasn’t worying me at the time.

“The renegade Sorceress and graduate of the Mage-College has been apprehended while stealing the Lydhna.” King Arnoch took one look at me and schooled his features into a shrewed look.

“So, you have DARED to come into the depths of MY palace and through your arrogance and stupidity come to take the ONLY vial of Lydhna in my ENTIRE Kingdom!” His robust voice boomed over his whole throne-room. “Where is it?!!!” he demanded sitting forward on the edge of his throne just a little.

“You’re Lydhna is currently flowing through my veins Your HIghness,” I spoke the last two words as mockery.

“You drank it!!!!!! Are you mad, that substance is evil, no one knows anything about it! NO ONE!” he thundered.

“I do,” put in Rindalard, “ and so do many others who are of the Mage-College community as well as rogue sorcerers such as those who probably taught Amabella the Dark Arts—”

“But..Lydhna...it’s evil, it curses the drinker, it....” the King trailed off.

“Yes, and no,” Corrected Rindalard.

“Never mind, I am the King, and I pronounce a life-time sentence in prison for this crime and the many others she probably has committed! Guards TAKE HER AWAY!!!!” The guards came for me and handling me roughly began to drag me away, while Rindalard was trying to, of all things, plead for a proper trial....

Amabela groaned. Why, why oh, why, when ever I get out of here, I’m going to stick my sword into the fat over-belly of King Arnoch. Damn that bastard. She sat up again, and tried to clear her head of the bad memories. She remembered vividly how, after being unceremoniously dumped into her cell, she had called up her hilt and tried to use every spell she knew to free herself from the small room. It wasn’t until a few days later when Rindalard had come to visit her He had informed her that he had personally seen to her cell to make sure she couldn’t escape from it. He was the last person she had seen, he had been wearing that sad, piteous expression on his face which so enraged Amabella. She sighed and tried to work some of the knots out of her hair with her fingers. But it was pointless, her hair was so filled with grime and filth that she couldn’t do anything about it.

Amabella thought back to when she was a child back when she, her older sister Renna, and their parents—who were traveling bards—would travel all over the kingdom playing their music. Amabella had been happy and loved the world then. But she also remembered the day when she and her sister Renna had, just for fun, had themselves tested for Magic. Sometimes children of about nine and ten would go usually against the wills of their parents—to go and see if they could go to the Mage-College. Of course, Renna and Amabella had been innocent and foolish children, because when they went to get Tested, Amabella was found to be able to use magic. After that fateful day, everything in Amabella’s world fell apart, Renna grew jealous of Amabella’s abilities, and their parents wanted to rid themselves of their “magical nuisance”. For several weeks after the Testing, Amabella began to have magical “leakage” where she would accidentally do magic when she was upset or angry or simply overjoyed about something, though she didn’t have much to be “overjoyed” about after that day. When she was sixteen, she had been “carted” off to the Mage-College, never to see her family again, they hadn’t even said good-bye to her, when a traveling Mage they had run into had offered to take Amabella back to Karsú with him.

Amabella had arrived in Karsú with a minimal amount of money to buy school supplies, which were sold on-campus. The only education she had had had come from her parents. Because she and her family had traveled around so much, she, and Renna, had never gone to formal schooling. That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t smart. Amabella was very good at reading and writing and somewhat at verse. But when she started school, Amabella had been an outcast. She had no money, and threw herself into her studies with vigor. Something that most of the other students definitely did not do. She was of course loved by the Mages, who thought that she was a charming pupil, especially High-Mage Rindalard. Up until he had found Amabella trying to learn more about the Dark Arts, she had really liked him a lot. After she had been in the section of the library, which was only for well experienced Mages and not Students, looking at what was there on the Dark Arts, Rindalard had come in to search for something and saw the book Amabela was holding, The Dark Philosophy Behind the Dark Arts.

“Amabella, you know that what you are doing is wrong, so wrong...” His voice echoed in her head, along with that damned sad and piteous expression of his. After that incident, Rindalard had watched her more closely and after she graduated she left Karsú in search of the Dark Arts, elsewhere. And she had found them. In a Renegade Sorcerer named Mordurkai. Mordurkai had been the oddest “man’ Amabella had ever seen. She wasn’t even sure if he had been human. He had black hair which he wore in the same style as Rindalard, and the palest, possible skin imaginable. The sorcery he had taught her was different from the Latin used sorcery of the Mage-College. Firstly, it was done in a strange, and beautiful language which Amabella had only started to learn, After all, one attended the College from about sixteen until twenty for a simple Undermagehood, and if one wanted to become a full fledged Mage, one went to the College until they were twenty five, and then another ten to fifteen years to become a High-mage, but there weren’t that many of those. Amabella had stopped at the Undermage spot because she hated the College and the corrupt city it was in. Plus she wanted to get away from Rindalard and pursue the Dark Arts. So she had found Mordurkai, (1) when she was about twenty-one, though, it was he who had found her. She was sure of that. He, as she had said before was a very strange man. And Amabella had loved him for it and many other things besides.

But after her training, which had taken her up to about twenty-three, Mordurkai had said his good-byes because he had needed to return North to his city. She had begged him to let her accompany him but he had said that his people didn’t like “Southerners” as he had put it. And that was the last time she had ever seen him. And that was when, only several months before her capture, when she had gone out to find the Lydhna. She knew, though she couldn’t say how, that Mordurkai, was Immortal, and maybe his “people” had something against Mortals, so she had decided to go and make herself Immortally Young. And look where it’s gotten me! She thought bitterly. The tears began to burn behind her eyes. She wouldn’t cry, she swore she wouldn’t cry. But who is here to see me? she asked herself, and flinging herself onto her pallet, began to sob hopelessly.

“Why, Mordurkai, did you leave me? WHY!!!” She sobbed punching the rough matting of her pallet. “Enorimene Amabella hinoria, Glokimene Narik Syarík GLOKIMENE!” (2) Suddenly, the walls of Amabella’s cell began to shake and then, everything exploded....

Amabella awoke confused, there was a cool breeze on her face. She sat up and stared at the rubble around her. Several guards were trying to get to her, but they kept falling and slipping on the loose rubble, while others had been trapped under falling rock. Many of the other prisoners—mostly thieves and con-men and other such non-magic related people, were quickly sliding down the pile of rubble. Amabella was lying on top of everything, as if she were a fair maiden, being offered up to some cold and cruel god, and the rubble was an altar. She got to her feet and “Veni mihi!” called up her sword-hilt

“It was her!” someone from the ground shouted. “She’s the only magical person in there!”

“But I thought that High-Mage Rindalard had done something to her cell so she couldn’t escape!” replied another.

“She’s unstop—” The man was hit in the chest by a flying knife which Amabella had shot out of the end of her hilt. He fell over and the light of life left his eyes. The other man who had also spoken looked horrified and ran for his miserable life. All the other guards who were clinging to the rubble pile, decided it was a better idea, to return to the ground just in case the matted-haired woman decided to shoot a flying knife in their direction.

“STAND ASIDE!” She shouted as she used a Latin incantation to make a sort of long board appear on her feet. She then slid down the rubble pile. And after getting to the bottom, she made the board disappear and ran for her life and freedom.

Amabella was now walking slowly and carefully through the back-alleys of Karsú, which wasn’t situated far from the prison, which was now a giant mountain of rubble. Amabella wasn’t sure how it happened. Rindalard had magic-proofed her cell, yet she had found a way to apparently get her freedom. Then an idea came to her. Koryae, of course! Rindelard didn’t know about Mordurkai—he thought that Amabella had been trained by some random and powerful sorcerer, who was mortal. He didn’t know anything about Koryae indeed. Amabella stopped in front of an inn, the Dancing Woman. And indeed, when she entered, there were several drunken men watching a woman who was dancing on a table and lifting and swirling her skirts above her knees to music played on a dulcimer by a man who was probably in his late twenties. Amabella was stopped by the innkeeper, a portly woman with her golden hair in two waist-length braids.

“I don’t do business with beggars.” she said simply. Amabella smiled.

“I can perform—not like that girl—for you in return for supper, a bath and a room for the night.”

“Really, what can you do girl?”

“I can do this,” Amabella promptly leapt up onto the table where the harlot had now stopped dancing and raised her hand. “Veni mihi!i” she raised her sword hilt and with “Veni, occidere!” made the customary two blades appear. Amabella then began to do complicated—and dangerous—tricks with her weapon. This was dangerous because she had been laying on her pallet for the better part of her ten-year term in the Karsú Prison. The men cheered and Amabella leaped off the table.

“Very good, but you’re a Mage...”

“Technically, by Mage-College standards, I’m an Undermage, though I’ve received more and better training elsewhere.” Amabella smiled, enjoying the disconcerted look on the innkeeper’s face.

‘Very well, you may wash up and then get back down here for more of those tricks of yours,” Amabella nodded and headed up the stairs eager to be clean and comb out her hair

Quite some time later, Amabella came back down stairs clean and with brushed hair.

“You took a bit way to long, girl,” the innkeeper said coldly.

“You try not having a proper bath for ten years and see how you like it!” Amabella jumped up on the table and began to exercise her knowledge of mage-craft. At the request from someone who wanted her to juggle, Amabella made several clay mugs zoom across the room and began to spin them on the blades of her sword-hilt.

“What in the name of Lieneelou are you doing!” the Innkeeper looked horrified as the cups suspended in the air by the blades, spun around and around over Amabella’s head. She had let her “trick” levitate and had seated herself cross-legged on the table smiling. “Oy, girl STOP IT!” The men only laughed and the dulcimer player was grinning.

“Very well,” Amabella made the cups (which had been filled with ale) zoom back to their various tables and made her sword-hilt vanish.

“You, eat, and Cilia, get back up on that table, Rand, play that dulcimer!” Amabella slid off the table and seated herself where the innkeeper commanded and Cilia and Rand did as they were told. A serving girl set a platter of fish before Amabella who greedily began to eat.

“And I s’pose you haven’t had no good food in the last ten years along with that proper bath?” Amabella nodded and smiled.

“My name is..um Renna, not girl by the way,” Renna was the first name that had come into her head, no one in Karsú or anyone from the Mage-College (except Rindalard) knew about her family. So it was probably safe to use her sister’s name as a cover.

“Very well, Renna, but you’ll be doin’ no more Magicking in my inn, got it?”

“Certainly,” Amabella replied evenly. The innkeeper walked away, and Amabella ate her fish in glorious silence—it tasted so good, after having ten years’ worth of gruel!

Finally she had eaten everything on the platter and the innkeeper had returned.

“Silvia will be shoin’ ya to yur room, Renna,” Amabella nodded and got to her feet. Silvia was a pretty serving girl who had, unfortunately for her, a nice figure. As the girl led Amabella up to her room, she couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for the girl. She was pretty and looked rather innocent, easy to be taken advantage of.

“Can you test me for Magic?” asked Silvia questioningly as she opened the door to Amabella’s room.

“Oh, you really, really don’t want me to do that, Silvia, the Mage-College isn’t everything its cracked up to be.” she sighed.

“Please, because I hate being a serving girl, all the men leer at me every day and its awful...” she trailed off feeling as if she had said to much.

“Very well, Amabella sighed. She gestured for the girl to sit herself on one of the two chairs in the room. Amabella then placed her hands upon Silvia’s shoulders and probed with her magical senses to see if Silvia a had any magic in her.

“How old are you?” Amabella asked.

“I’m going to turn fifteen soon,” Amabella was appalled. No fifteen-year old innocent girl should be forced to work in a place where there were more drunken and violent louts than one could shake a finger at. This was one of the many reasons Amabella positively hated this corrupt city. Then she found it, Silvia had a little fire that was burning inside of her, yes, she would become a good Undermage.

“Silvia,” Amabella started.

“Do I have any magic?”

“Yes, you do,” Amabella was surprised as the girl flung her arms around Amabella’s waist and hugged her tightly.

‘Thank you Renna, thank you soooo much!” Amabella smiled despite herself.

“SILVIA IT DOESN’T TAKE THAT LONG TO GIVE RENNA A ROOM GET DOWN HERE NOW!!!” Silvia looked frightened.

“I’d better go..” she said her fear increasing as the innkeeper’s threats grew louder and more persistent.

“Good night, Silvia, and don’t show your fear,” Amabella added. Silvia went back down stairs and Amabella lay down on her bed. How can I be tired when I’ve just “slept” ten years of my life away, oh well, I’m Immortal! It doesn’t really matter! She laughed softly at the thought.

Several minutes later, Silvia was back up knocking on Amabella’s door.

“Renna, open up, its really important, the messenger said that everyone has to know.” Amabella muttered “Ianuam Apperi!” and the door swung open. Silvia came rushing in and Amabella sighed and sat up. “What is it?”

“Well, there’s a horrible woman named Amabella who’s just escaped from prison—they say she blew it up!—and she’s wanted, what if she’ comes here, I don’t want to die...!” Silvia was wringing her hands hopelessly.

“It’s alright, Silvia. Amabella won’t come after you,” Amabella smiled. “Believe me she’d rather kill King Arnoch or High-Mage Rindalad—He’s an idiot, when you get to the College stay far away from him.” Silvia nodded.

“Could you help me with something?”

“What?”

“Well, most of the other cliants who are up here are drunk and they get pretty mean, I don’t want to deliver the Amabella message alone...” Amabella smiled.

“Sure, just show me where the rooms are, though if most of the bastards who are in them are drunk they wouldn’t understand the message unless Amabella was standing in their faces with a sword to their necks!” Amabela laughed but Silvia did not.

“You really shouldn’t joke about that Amabella’s really dangerous.” Amabella just smiled and the two of them went out into the hallway. Silvia knocked on the first door. There was a grunt for answer. “Um...I have a message,” The door opened and an unkempt red-eyed positively drunk man stood in the doorway.

“Wha ya want?” he demanded, then he saw the pretty and beautiful faces looking at him and he smiled a drunken smile.

“We wish to warn you of Amabella, who has just escaped from the Karsú Prison. She’s highly dangerous, highly magical, and highly beautiful as well as wanted by the King, I’m sure so—” Amabella said in a light tone of voice.

“Den I’ll ‘ave a little fun wi’h ‘er won’t I?’

“You wish to court death?” Amabella asked, making her sword-hilt appear.

“Um..I’ll go and see to another patron,” Silvia said backing away, as the man leered at her.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Amabella said, thrusting her sword-hilt into the girl’s hands, “Veni occidere!!” Silvia gave a gasp of surprise as the two blades shot out of either end of the hilt.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t have steely blades,” leered the man.

“Cut him,” Amabella said simply and coldly.

“But...I’ll get in trouble, and...” she trailed of.

“Silvia!” the Innkeeper was standing at the top of the stairs. “What are you doing with that,”—she pointed to Amabella’s weapon—“and why haven’t you finished delivering the messages?!”

“Because most of those who are up here are in no condition to hear them properly.” Amabella said simply.

“Fine, since your an Undermage, heal al of them and tell them that some Renegade Sorceress named Amabella is going to descend upon Karsú and kill us all!” The innkeeper looked panic-stricken.

“Actually, Amabella isn’t going to kill everyone, that would be highly pointless and certainly useless.” Amabella said.

“H-how do you know what Amabella would or wouldn’t do?” demanded the innkeeper who closed the distance between them.

“I’m an Undermage after all, and I’ve had other training elsewhere, I know these kinds of things.” Amabella turned to the man, and placed her hands on his shoulders, he tried to reach out and grab her but she had taken her sword back from Silvia and he just managed to dodge his death-blow by throwing himself upon the floor. But Amabela had finished the healing.

“What the—? Who, “ he asked getting to his feet.

“You good sir, are now sober,” Amabella said flatly. Just then, there was a lot commotion from downstairs.

“Mistress Romilda, there’s an Undermage here who wants to see Renna, now!” wailed another serving girl who was standing at the top of the stairs.

“Never mind, girl, I’ll see to it myself.” A young man who was probably in his early twenties appeared at the top of the stairs. He had a simple staff, with no adornments on it, that was the mark of an Undermage as well as the right to wear colored robes, while students wore white banded with gold to symbolize the College. Amabella turned to face the Undermage.

“Silvia, I want you to go back downstairs,”

“But Renna...”

“You mean Amabella.” the Undermage said flatly. “You’re under arrest.”

“If you can catch me, and oh yes, standing at the top of the stairs while dueling is really, realy stupid.” Amabella smiled as she made her blades disappear and caused a jet of liquid fire to shoot from the end of her sword hilt that was pointed at the Undermage. He gave a cry of surprise as the fire hit his staff, promptly melted it, and because of the new third-degree burns on his hands, he let the liquid metal fall to the floor which instantly ignited it. Amabella laughed as he stepped back and, loosing his footing, fell backwards down the stairs.

“Ahhh!” Silvia screamed. Amabella grabbed her and the Inkeeper and cast a fire-proof spell on them and pulled them through the fire.

‘My inn! My inn! Don’t let it burn!” wailed the innkeeper as they arrived at the bottom of the stairs. And sure enough several of the King’s Guards were standing in the doorway, with a Mage. The Undermage who’s staff Amabella had melted was seeking a quick painkiller from the Mage.

Amabella turned to go back upstairs.

“I’m leaving, I’ll put out the fire on my way out. Farewell Silvia, and do go with the Mage to the College, it would be better for you,” But Silvia was looking between the Undermage with the melted hands and Amabella with an expression of horror and betrayal on her face.

“Why...” Silvia began to cry. Amabella couldn’t stand it. She promptly fled up the stairs putting out the fire like she had said she would and found the servants’ back entrance and left through a dark alley. It wasn’t safe to stay in Karsú. Unless she didn’t do any magic, that is. She ran as fast as she could, using her hilt as a torch to see by, and found naturally—because she was in a back alley—a young rich youth who was having fun with some whore in a corner. She quickly killed the man, and the girl fled in fear. Amabella then took the youth’s several purses overflowing with gold. Good. She smiled, Now to go and find another inn. Amabella walked quickly for about half an hour before she found another quiet inn. She quietly slipped in, asked for a room, and payed for it, saying that she probably might be staying for a few days, and after being led up to her room, fell onto her bed and fell asleep.

A/N: OK that’s the end of the first chapter of this story. Just to clarify, this story takes place quite some time after the Saga of the Kyínturna, after the creation of humanity and after the humans have made some civilizations for themselves. The Kor’Dae sects have receded into the background of the picture and most of the Mortals no longer adhere or remember them.

Mordurkai: “Warrior of dark death” Yes, people he is one of the Dur’Kor’Dae, most of the sects have hidden themselves by this time from human civilization. Amabella suspects that Mordurkai is more than human but does not know of the Dur’Kor’Dae. This sect has an interesting connection with humans since they are the only full sect that will serve Thangûldur, and he with the aid of Kor’Kaiya created (us) humans, in Amabella’s world.

Enorimene Amabella hinoria, Glokimene Narik Syarík GLOKIMENE!: Koryae: “Free/liberate miserable Amabella, Shatter the walls of the prison, SHATTER!!!” command which causes the prison to be utterly destroyed.