A/N I Have redone this WHOLE story so if you are thinking 'haven't I seen this before?' no you have not! Everything has been changed, characters, history, personalities, all of it. I hope you enjoy the rewrite.

Prologue - Mission intolerable

“This was love at first sight, love everlasting: a feeling unknown, unhoped for, unexpected - in so far as it could be a matter of conscious awareness; it took entire possession of him, and he understood, with joyous amazement, that this was for life.”

-Thomas Mann

‘Steady’ he told himself firmly, trying to still the slight quiver of his hand as it firmly gripped the hilt of his sword.

Mike’s leg had fallen asleep long ago and he shifted a bit, trying to get in a more comfortable position. No such luck. He turned his gaze to the battalion around him, trying to forget his own discomfort. His troops didn't look any better.

That was the worst part of the war: the waiting. There was nothing for any of them to do, but sit around and pass the endless hours with only their memories and thoughts for comfort. For some like Mike, that was the cruelest torture. The soldiers were trained against enemies of the flesh, but were defenseless against the dangers lurking within their own minds.

Mike’s thoughts flashed back to the events of only a few hours before.

He watched the flickering candle flame as it moved in a hypnotic dance, swaying with a strange, sensual grace that made him long to stroke it. His reason reminded him that such an action would only result in a burned finger, yet still the bizarre urge remained.

The candle burned so brightly, as if trying to revel the burning of his own heart. All candles in the room were motionless and uniform yet this one seemed to be competing to shine brighter, trying its best to outdo the others. Perhaps that was the reason why the candle held his interest so strongly, trapping him and making his blood sing with power while his mind suddenly became painfully aware of his bodies every fault.

“Michael.”

The sound of his name brought him back to attention.

He turned his gaze to the middle of the dim chamber where twenty dark figures were gathered around a table murmuring.

A woman had stood up and he looked at her with his disturbingly serious emerald green eyes, eyes that had seen far too much in his short nineteen years.

“Are you sure she’s the one?” the woman asked in a cultured voice, stroking the star-studded owl that perched on her shoulder.

“Yes Nocturna. She is truly the Second Chosen.” He answered, thinking of the way his entire being had responded the moment he set eyes on the girl.

“It is settled then. The girl will be assigned a body guard until we know what is to be done with her.”

“This is crazy! We need more proof than the assurance of a teenager!” A man objected, standing up.

Nocturna raised an eyebrow at him.

“You don't trust the word of your prince?” she questioned.

“No, no it’s not that.” He quickly assured her, eyes flickering uneasily to the dark youth.

“We just can't afford to reveal our world to her when we aren't completely sure she actually is the Second Chosen. Those humans are barbaric! They fight enough with each other. Could you imagine the chaos that would follow if they were to discover us?” He demanded.

“Not all humans are barbaric, and we must do something! If she truly is the Second Chosen, she will be hunted!” Another woman objected.

The man rounded on her with a snarl.

“Well that’s a risk we must take to ensure our species survival.” He snapped.

“How long do you think we'll survive without her? Our existence depends on that girl, and I am not going to sit back and watch while our only hope for a future is slaughtered just because you're an idiot! I don't know about you, but I don't want innocent blood on my hands!” she yelled.

Everyone began talking at once and Mike raised his eyebrows, watching with morbid amusement as the most powerful people in his world began snapping and growling at each other like a pack of ravenous dogs.

“Enough!” Nocturna shouted, rising quickly to her feet and nearly knocking the owl from her shoulder. It glared at her and ruffled its feathers, but she took no notice.

“We will send a body guard for her, but they will remain hidden until we are positive she is truly the Second Chosen.”

The councilors sulkily muttered their agreement with this plan, feeling like a bunch of scolded children. Nocturna turned her intense gaze back to Mike.

“Michael, you will be the one to watch her.”

He was so surprised he slipped sideways a bit and almost knocked over the candle he had been watching.

“I'm what?” He asked incredulously.

“You are the best suited for this job. Just protect her until we have come to a decision. Do not reveal yourself under any circumstances until we have given you clearance to do so.”

Mike stared at her speechlessly and Nocturna continued talking.

“You will, of course, have backup, but since you are to lay low, I don't think it would be wise to take Calinatta with you.”

The boy snorted. If he did not have better etiquette, he probably would have said something along the lines of, “Duh.”

“Take Roland with you instead.”

He groaned inwardly. Roland? On a stealth mission? Cal could put on a hoop shirt and parade through town singing 'Yanky Doodle' in all his seven foot fuzzy glory and he would still be better hidden than Roland.

“Fine.” He spat out, unable to mask his annoyance with the whole ordeal.

Mike turned to leave, already despising the mission, but knowing nothing he said could sway Nocturna’s decision.

“What did you say the girl’s name was?” she called.

“Sarah.” He answered without turning around.

“Sarah Scarpetti.”

Even hours later the decision still bothered him, sticking in his side like a thorn he simply couldn't remove. Just what exactly did Nocturna think he did with his time that made her believe he would be the perfect candidate to become some girl’s stalker?

‘I shouldn't be here’ Mike thought for the millionth time that night. He had gone against Nocturna’s orders and returned to his men. They had been tracking a Minitour scout for a week now and it had unwittingly led them to one of their camps. It would be suicide to barge in and take on the whole camp at once, so they decided to lay low and pick off the smaller bands of troupes. Mike and his men were outnumbered after the slaughter that had taken place a few days ago, but they were armed with the two weapons the Minitours could never have: magic and intelligence.

The moon had disappeared behind a cloud bank and his men’s faces were in shadow, yet he knew every one by heart and could see them clearly in his mind’s eye.

They were terrified. It seeped from their auras, thick and heavy, like the smoke from burning tires. They moved uneasily, hands flexing on the hilts of their swords.

Mike counted them quickly. Sixty. That was twenty less then the night before. He turned to the shadowy figure crouching next to him.

“Have you seen Anise?”

His voice was calm and deep, twinged by the slightest hint of an Irish accent, something he usually tried to hide.

Two glowing yellow eyes blinked into existence and gazed down at him, set into a strange, dark mass.

“I saw her fall, but I didn't see her rise again.” came the reply. “There is a possibility she survived though.” The eyes said as an after thought, noticing Mike’s pain at this revelation.

For a while no one else spoke.

“You shouldn't be here, Little Wolf.” The yellow eyes said unexpectedly, voicing the prince’s thoughts.

Mike raised his head from where he had been resting it on his knees. The eyes were surveying him again. They moved and the moon took that opportunity to break through the clouds for a moment. Pointed ears and a large, cat like head covered in yellow and brown fur were visible around the eyes for a split second before the clouds won their battle against the moon and all lapsed back into darkness.

“This is no place for you.”

Mike lowered his eyes back to the ground. He touched his chest, gently caressing the ring hanging from a chain around his neck. His movements had caused it to become stuck over his heart, pressed firmly against his skin by his heavy armor.

Mike smiled wryly to himself at that.

“This is the only place left for me, Cal.” He murmured.

From a place below the eyes came a sigh of frustration but no comment.

“I don't mind sacrificing my own life, but I wish I didn't have to take their lives with me,” Mike said quietly, indicating his men.

“They trust you. These men would gladly follow you into Hell itself as long as they got to take a few Minotaur down with them.” Cal replied.

“I don't like holding their lives in my hands.” Mike confessed.

“Then don't. You're only nineteen. These men have had a chance to live. You deserve that chance too, Little Wolf.”

Mike fixed his gaze on the distance, squinting through the darkness.

“I have lived.” He remarked blandly.

He sensed rather than saw Cal shake his head.

“Your body might be alive, but your soul has been dead for five years. Go find a nice girl and fall in love. Start a family, be a father. Just live.”

The ring started to dig into Mike’s skin, almost accusingly.

“I have loved, Cal. Loved and betrayed. If my life is lost, it will be of no waste. Besides-" he gave a humorless smile, "my birthday is in a few months. Any chance I had at living has long passed.” Mike murmured, his fist clenching in self-loathing.

Cal looked away.

"All the more reason for you to make the next few months memorable. Theres still time. Maybe you could-"

"I'm not going to find her, Cal. Even if I did, it wouldn't matter. I'm ready to pay the price of my sins..." Mike interrupted.

Cal blew out a sigh.

“You are a stubborn one. I've met rocks that were more reasonable than you.”

Mike smiled slightly.

“I've learned from the best.”

He wasn't positive, but he could have sworn he saw Cal grin.

“Find the one you're meant to be with, Little Wolf. Stop chasing ghosts.”

“I don't chase ghosts.” Mike replied, voice bleak. “They chase me.”

Cal turned to inquire about the remark, but was interrupted by the baritone scream of a bull.

Mike jumped to his feet, his lithe body moving fluidly while he barked orders to his men, trying to make himself heard over the war cries that now tore the air. The moon peeked out again and he caught sight of an army of Minotaur, their white tipped horns gleaming as wickedly as the battle axes and broad swords they carried.

The hulking figures thundered across the land, nostrils quivering with moisture as they caught the scent of fresh meat. The lead Minotaur, a well-respected Sergeant by the identifying brands on his neck, stopped at the sight of Mike.

The two enemies faced each other across a grassy knoll. The Minotaur laughed harshly.

“Are the Desideri'an so weak that they now force children to fight their battles?” He growled, voice hardly intelligible.

“I volunteered.” Mike replied frigidly, every hint of his accent gone.

The Minotaur snorted, causing the ring in its nose to rock back and forth.

“I remember now. The wolf.” The bull chuckled darkly.

Mike allowed his eyes to take on the slanted appearance of his true form while his teeth became long fangs, showing the Minotaur he was correct.

“I only wish I had the patience to wait for my brother so that he too might feast upon your carcass.”

Mike shrugged.

“Don't bother," he grinned nastily, the youthful face revealing the war-hardened monster Mike had become, "I killed him this morning.”

As proof, he withdrew a scrap of leathery skin and threw it to the ground at the bull's hooves. The Minotaur’s eyes dilated and for a moment he could only stare at the identifying brands on the skin, proving it had indeed been cut from his brother's neck. Slowly, his eyes raised to those of the youth before him. Then, with a bellow that shook the stars from the very heavens, the bull attacked.