Note: This book has been completed, in terms of chapter. It says incomplete, because Mousey is still editting it. I might add a couple of conversations, and descriptions, and other such extraneous things. But the story holds together as it is, and you will not be forced to go back and reread anything in order to understand the story.

This chapter is basically a prologue, in the form of character stories. I hope you like them. After this, comes the main book. The only stories you reallyneed to read in order to make sense of the story is Eilonwy, at the top, and Phantasma, at the bottom, though i'd like to think that the rest of these make interesting insights into the lives of the cahracters, if nothing else. As far as elipses go, they disappear for the most part after you get through the prolgue. (I appologize for those)

One last thing: The first few stories tell you absolutely nothing about my writing style. I wrote them in the last couple of years, whereas most of this book was written in the last few months. Eilonwy, Keran, and Plitora are all written in basically the same manor. After that, the style changes.

Eilonwy Controls light
A fire. That's what started it all - just a simple fire. Strange, huh? I was in the living room, watching the crystal ball, when it happened. It was a weird fire - consumed half the house before I even smelled smoke. I was on my feet and racing for the stairs in an instant, the fire closing my escape. I didn't care, I had to get my brother. In all the excitement, I never stopped to wonder why the fire was traveling in a straight line. I raced up the stairs, the necklace with my name on it burning against my flesh. I yanked open the door and shut it behind me. It bulged but I didn't notice. I grabbed Ethan from his cradle, and reached for the window - it was stuck! The door exploded outwards and the fire seemed to form into a wolf. Ethan cried. I pulled, the window came open, the wolf pounced, and I jumped out. My dress snagged on the window. I felt the heat...steering me...I screamed, a flash of light...a fall, Ethan held high...my head hit the wall...darkness overcame me and Ethan rolled from my grasp into the bushes...
I'm Eilonwy, and this is my story.
I woke Up to the sound of voices. There were people. I couldn't remember who I was. There was a necklace around my neck. I traced it with my finger - ei...lonwy? Eilonwy - was that my name? Yes - I - I was ten. Slowly, I turned my attention to the people in front of me. There was a man and woman crying. They were so familiar. The woman had blond hair and blue eyes - like mine? And they were holding a baby. There was another man, talking to them. He called them Mr. and Mrs. Retu or something like that. I wanted to say something, but I couldn't seem to get any words out, so I just stared as they drove away. Slowly, ignoring the pain as the brushes scratched against me, I made my forward on the wet, cold grass, secure in the knowledge that I would be found...
I spent the next few years wandering in and out of group homes, drifting further and further from the site where I had been found. Nobody wanted me. Who could blame them? I was the mystery kid, found at a fire, with no memories. And then one day, when I was twelve, I was adopted by a nice old man. He called himself an "exterminator". He was a kind guy, though a bit strange. Every day, I would ask him how his day went, how many roaches he had killed, and he'd smile, and tell me how he had almost died. Strange thing to say, but still, he was a nice guy. All was good for a while, and then one day when I was thirteen, it all fell apart. We were eating dinner - meatloaf. I felt him approaching but I didn't say anything, I was too frightened. He came in waving a sword and he had this long black hair, a scraggly beard, not to mention these wild eyes! He was waving a sword about, and shouting about all the people my new "dad" had killed; How Dad tried to protect me. He leapt at the guy - and was killed. I knew what my dad did now. He killed people, people like me, people with magic. But to me, he always was, and always will be - Dad. I killed the person who did it. Don't ask me how I did it. One minute he was there and the next he was - simply gone, a pile of ash on the floor.
I cried myself to sleep that night, and left the following morning. Rather stupid thing to do I guess, but I couldn't stay there, not after that. I lived on the streets - stealing, doing magic shows, whatever I had to do to keep alive. If the streets taught me one thing, it was this: trust no one, and never reveal your full power! Then one day, about a year after I left, I was caught. I didn't care...
"Where are your parents?" asked the man.
"I don't know."
"Where are they!"
"I don't know!" The air stilled, instantly. Nothing moved, I felt the man in my head, ruffling through my memories...
"Come with me."
"Why should I?"
The man had the gall to smile. In an instant he was against the wall, while I walked through the door he had been holding open.
"Stay out of my mind..."
The man laughed.
Inside it was completely white - White walls, white floor, white chair, white table. There was a boy there, younger than me. He told me they were the standbys; whatever that meant.
The what?
"You know, the resistance? The ones waiting for Toe Heret? The hero?"
"Never heard of him."
"Read a newspaper!!"
"We're not here to discuss her reading habits, Ethan," said the man.
"Why am I here?"
"We would like you to join us."
"What's the pay?"
"The knowledge you're helping a just cause?"
"Not good enough." I turned to leave.
"Don't you ever do anything out of the goodness of your heart?" asked Ethan
I smiled, bitterly. "Come back two years ago."
I heard a gun cocking. I didn't care. "Retu!" cried the man.
The name stopped me cold. "Bread and board?"
I became a member of the standbys, rose through the ranks slowly, and began to let my guard down around Ethan, as I knew I must, if I was to ever solve the biggest mystery of my life. I guess that was my mistake - he fell in love with me. With me! Heh! And then one day we got a report of a giant burst of magic. Me and Ethan were sent to check it out. Imagine my shock when we found Toe Heret...and we actually became protectors! Life never the same again. Kevin, Toe Heret, became one of the few people I could let my guard down around, only this time I was the one who fell in love - talk about irony! Like I said, life was never the same again...
You know, it really IS amazing the family history you can find on us protectors in Kevin's little books… .

Plitora

Wow…I can’t believe Kevin is actually going to let me tell my story. I mean, usually I’m not even allowed a pen, yet alone a computer…Of course, this is special circumstances, I guess.

My name is…Jess. Jessica, really. But no one calls me that, anymore. Not for centuries. These days, they call me Plitora. You’ve probably heard of me at this point, right? If not, you’re going too…And you’re going to hate me. It might not be right after this story-might take the entire book, even. But at the end of it all, you’re going to hate me…But if you’re going to hate me no matter what I say, you might as well listen to me while I say it. Even if it won’t do any good.

I was sixteen when it all started, I think. It’s hard to remember now…Hard to remember anything, now, with the spell. Kevin gave me a choice, you see. He gave me my emotions, for a minute or two, and he gave me a choice. Told me that he could extend it-keep it up, for one day, twenty four hours, so that I could tell my life’s story, for his book, and let people know my side of things. And in return, I would lose any chance I had left of ever going back. I took the emotions, obviously…Truth is, I don’t want to ever go back to this again. Never. I don’t want to remember what I’ve done, and feel it. But I want you to-need you too-from your couches, and homes, where you think you’re safe and sound. I need you to know the truth. Because one day, as I rip your throats out, maybe you can remember it, and know why…Or maybe you’ll just know that it wasn’t ally my fault. That I wasn’t always like this. You’ll never forgive me, but maybe you can understand. And I care about that-I care that my victims understand, horrid as that is. For these twenty four hours, I care. So here it is.

Like I said, I was probably sixteen…Just a kid, really, who liked to do normal kid things. I loved to play sports, kiss guys, solve math equations and leave grown men going “Guh…” Okay, so maybe I wasn’t really normal. But I wasn’t this. I wasn’t this creature, this thing that everyone hates, and fears…I was a human being. I had gorgeous raven hair, and dark eyes so deep that you could lose yourself in them. I had guys falling over me, and a family who cared-who talked about me with love, and affection, and called me a prodigy. People who cared.

I had a boyfriend I loved, and who loved me in turn. We were going to get married, and be happu, and love each other for all eternity, and life would have been good. It should have been good. That’s what I tell myself, anyway. I don’t know, in truth, what would have happened. I just know that it didn’t, and I know what did, and that last is what I’m going to tell you now.

I got a job as a research assistant. That’s what pushed me over the edge, in the end. What ruined my life. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, when it started. It seemed so great an opportunity, such a great way to show what I was made of. My parents were thrilled, my friends were jealous, my boyfriend was happy. They all kept on telling me that my intelligence was finally realized.

Only my boyfriend and me knew the truth-that they didn’t want me for my intelligence. Or my body, either, if that’s what you’re thinking. They didn’t give a whit about me, didn’t care in the slightest about the career of some teen. They wanted me for my power-for my ability to control metal. They were trying reverse alchemy-to turn gold into a less harmful metal…That was the real goal of all those alchemists, years ago. You real worlders, in your non-magical universe tried to do the reverse later, tried to turn it against us, and make more of the dratted stuff, but our goal was always to be rid of it. Gold steals up magic, sucks it down deep inside its depths and doesn’t let it back out again. It’s dangerous, for us wizards. It’s dangerous even for you people, here in the magical world. Surround yourself completely with it, for more than a minute, and your soul is lost forever, sucked up into it along with that bit of magic in every bit of life on this planet. It’s not exactly a pleasant experience…

They’d never been successful, of course. Not once. But they hoped I could change all that, with my ability to control metal. It didn’t extend to gold, of course, but they hoped. They hoped that they could push the gold into letting me in, just for a while, and let me alter that gold on a molecular level, let me fix their problems for me. It wasn’t my intelligence at all, you see; just my power. But what did I care? What did it matter, to me? I was getting my chance. What did the rest matter? My life was perfect. It didn’t stay that way.

I was working late at night, on a project. I wasn’t doing much good, but still…I was trying, even after the others had all gone home. Trying to prove I was a good worker, that I deserved to go on other projects. Trying to show that they wanted me for something other than my powers, so that they’d keep me on when those powers were no longer of use to them. I was actually doing an experiment, when I heard the noise, up on the catwalk. I investigated, of course-it would be just my luck to have the place broken into, on my watch, after all. I’d probably catch the blame if they got away with anything-maybe even get fired, no matter how much they wanted me. So I went up there; No one was there.

I could hear a noise though, from the shadows, and I wanted to go after it. I wanted to prove myself, any way I could, as if it would actually mean anything in the long run. As if my life wasn’t doomed. So I walked down that catwalk, sure of my safety, calmly looking back and forth, refusing to let any fear show on my face.

That lack of fears didn’t do me any good when a shadow leapt out at me, pushing me over the railing, and into a canister lying below-solid gold. We had been working on it, that morning. Failed experiment, I thought to myself, remembering, my mind in shock. I think my legs were broken.

I didn’t have time to worry though-not about that, not about experiments, not about who had done it to me. I didn’t have time to worry about any of it, because if I didn’t do something soon, there wouldn’t be any of me left to worry. The canister’s top had fallen down, throwing me into darkness.

I panicked, at first, even though it wouldn’t do any good. I only had a minute, you see, before my soul would be taken. And it didn’t matter how much I banged at the walls, or tried to climb the surface. It didn’t matter how loud I yelled, or how many tears streekeed down my cheeks. I still did all those things though. I couldn’t help it.

A white substance emanated from my body, white and misty, looking like nothing so much as a cloud. I watched it, my cares slipping away won by one, as it stretched out from me, towards the golden walls around me. Watched my soul slip away into the gold, and knew it was too late to stop it, too late to even care about that anymore.

That’s when the hissing started-the experiments. Someone had activated them, some distant part of my mind realized, with something that almost felt like caring. Almost felt like fear. A purple gas spread down over me, settling on my skin, crackling against my hair, conducting electricity into my body. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream. The current was burning me alive, from the inside out, spreading through me, spreading through my soul, still attached to me even after all that, through the gold, until it felt like I was going to burst into fire. And then it was over.

My legs were healed, my eyesight clear. I was stronger, I realized-my body sturdier, less gangly. My eyesight was sharper, my hearing better. I was changed. The gold held no threat to me now. There was nothing more for it to take.

The gold twisted outward, forming an opening, with the barest of a gesture. I could control it, now; there was no surprise-only acknowledgement, as I strode into the world, a being transformed.

I still had my soul, you see-but so did the gold. Where others, who had lost their souls, would sit and rot, not able to care enough even to feed themselves, I would walk the earth, and think. But I would never care. I would never feel. The gold had taken that from me, and it would never give it back. It had stolen my emotions, my dreams, my cares, my love. It had stolen everything. But I didn’t care.

I strode out into the world with new eyes, that could feel no pity, could have no hurt. I experimented with my abilities, just to see what I could do, cut myself just to see if I would heal. I felt no pain, I found. I could suffer no injuries that would not heal in seconds.

I walked a bit, growing accustomed to my new body, getting used to things. I strode down familiar pathways, walked past buildings I recognized. They were from my old life, though. They held no meaning for me now.

Eventually, I even found my boyfriend. The man I had thought to love, and marry, and be happy with. He was weak, I thought; unattractive. His body was riddled with flaws, his intelligence was substandard. He was worthless to me, and I told him that.

He begged me to rethink, to take him, desperate to be shown that I still loved him, that I still wanted him. So I turned him into something I thought I wouldn’t be so disgusted with-figuring if I was to be stuck with him, he could at least be something I would not be so horrified by. I made him into a creature like myself. Only, I didn’t do it at first. I wanted to experiment, you see..I wanted to see what I could make him feel, before I changed him. So I made a clone of him-a simple, basic, thing compared to the twins of today. But it played the part well enough, and his family fell for it. That’s what counted, I thought. I made him watch, as his clone killed his family. Made him listen, as they screamed his name, and begged for mercy, and wondered what they had done wrong. I made him watch, until he hated me, and then put him through a process that would ensure he would never get rid of me.

When he emerged, he stabbed me, and left me for dead. But I healed, as I always healed. And I went forward, alone, as I always would be.

For the longest time, I thought that the gold had stolen everything from me. I thought that all my emotions had been lost; I was wrong, though. It left me a desire, to die, and a hope to achieve. The last shreds of humanity left to me, and they were designed to end me once and for all…But I didn’t have survival instincts, so I did my best to follow them.

I took the name Plitora, for the plight, and learned of Toe Heret, the only one who might have a chance to destroy me. I set up factories to create clones, and refined the process. I built my castle, and took over my island-wasn’t hard. I was invincible, and I had an army of twins. I could create clones of anyone I wanted, and not a person in the universe could stop me. Except for Toe Heret, and he was the one I was doing it for. I would be ready for our fight, when it came…I half hoped that he would kill me. Give me the relief that no one else could. But that wouldn’t stop me from fighting.

Maybe he would help me; maybe he wouldn't. Either way, might as well make things interesting…

More interesting then I dreamed, actually, when he figured out the truth; the ultimate irony. That, if David-Keran now- is an alternate version of him, and I am Keran’s soul mate, then I, in term, am Kevin’s. It didn’t bother me as Plitora. I didn’t have to worry about it, when I was her, or feel it. But Jessica? Jessica feels it in her every bone. She feels her heart thudding, her body aching, and the despair of knowing that no he will never love me. That he will always hate me.

In a few hours, it’ll be gone. I’ll be Plitora again-a heatless monster, who doesn’t have to feel this horrifying guilt, or this aching love, or this desperate wanting. In a few hours, it’ll all be gone, and I’ll go back to killing again. I kind of want that, truthfully, even if it will mean never wanting again. Jessica has nothing left to offer, for Kevin or herself.

So the question is, what do you think of me, now? Not that it matters, really, in the end…I did horrible things. Killed thousands of people. And I did it all, not because I cared, but because I could. I'll even do it all again, as soon as I get out of this prison. I know that I am vile. I'm just curious as to what you think about it..

Like I said, though, it doesn't matter. I'm still doomed, and people are still going to try and kill me. Good luck with that, by the way, Toe Heret.

Keran

Hey. My names’s…I’m Keran. I know you already hate me, most likely, after what Plitora must have told you. In your mind, I’m already a monster, a villain, a beast, and nothing I say will ever be able to change that. I don’t want to change that. But Kevin offered me the same deal as he did Plitora, and I took it, so the least you can do is listen to my story; this is the last chance I’ve ever had to tell it. And I’m going to tell it, with or without you.

If you’re reading this, your answer is pretty clear. So here’s the story.

I was fifteen when it started- a teenager, same as Plitora. Only, she wasn’t Plitora than, as you know, and I was David. She was Jessica; my girlfriend. And I loved her. Everyone thought we would marry-told us as much, constantly. Not that we minded. It’s what we wanted, young as we were. Having everyone else know it too just made things better, far as we were concerned. Besides, things were set. Our parents had agreed to the marriage, even before we had. Our lives were set out in front of us, and we were more happy with them.

And then things went wrong. Jessica went through that experiment, got herself bound to the gold, and came back as Plitora. She didn’t love me, anymore. She didn’t feel a thing for me, or anyone else, and our perfect plans were just a pile of crap she couldn’t wait to be rid of. And I was to go with them.

If I had been smart, I would have let her push me away. I would have let her end it all, and gone on, sad but human. Instead, I pushed, and I begged. I wanted her back, and I thought that any price would be worth it. What can I say? Love makes us stupid.

Plitora’s price was simple, and devastating. She took my family, and she slaughtered them, one by one, while I watched, using a clone of me to do it. She made me sit there, and listen, while she slaughtered every single person I loved, one by one, while they begged me for mercy as I fi could give it. They died, blaming me, wondering what they had done wrong, and being unable to come up with an answer.

That wasn’t really the price, though; just an experiment. A bit of fun to have with me before I would be worthless for such things. Her real price was me. She killed me. Not physically, I suppose, but it was no less of death, for all that. Because the moment she put me through that experiment, and made me like herself, David died. Keran is all that is left, and what I will return too when this is over. It was not David, but Keran who stabbed her after stepping out of the golden canister, to leave her for dead.

It was Keran who walked into a world where everyone he had ever loved was dead, and didn’t feel a thing/. It was Keran, who walked through the world in a blur, unable to process a single thing, unable to feel as Plitora swept the world, slaughtering people. I even helped, sometimes, when we happened to run into each other, to see what would happen. It didn’t really do anything for me, but it was something to do, I thought. I didn’t know I’d have to feel it now-the pain, the guilt, the loss, of having killed thousands, without a hint of remorse. Truthfully, I’m not sure there’s enough of me left, though, even now, to feel it all. In a few hours, as Kevin’s spell wears off, that’ll go away too, and I’ll go back to killing, just like I did then.

The deaths din’t even have meaning, really…my life was meaningless, a jumble of experiments designed to take up time. You’ll never understand, really, what it felt like for me-to prick yourself, and not bleed, not even feel. To burn yourself, and simply heal. To kill yourself, and come back as if nothing had ever happened. To find that there’s nothing left to you, not even death, just an endless eternity of waiting. It’s…horrid, frankly. And I wasn’t even able to feel that.

And then is aw Toe Heret. He looked just like me-was me, from another dimension, as it turned out. I saw him kill Plitora’s clones-her twins, she calls them-and I felt hope, for the first time in centuries. Hope that Toe Heret would be able to kill me, and make it stick, like no others could.

So I joined Plitora’s little army, helped her little crusade, and waited for things to unfold. I figured that if I could hurt him enough, kill enough of his friends, maybe I could drive him to kill me. Maybe he would set me free. Because whatever comes after death, couldn’t be any worse than the living hell in inhabited.

Even if I only felt pain, I would be feeling all the same. That’s why I kill, now, an hurt, and act like I enjoy it: To goad Toe Heret forward, into killing me. He thinks he’s safe now, with his little spell making me feel guilt. He thinks that if I can feel, I won’t endanger those he cares about. He’s wrong though-I want to hurt him tonight, more than ever. Because if I can hurt him tonight, if I can make him see me as evil to the core, I can make him kill me, before I can kill anyone else…Don’t worry-I won’t hurt anyone. But it ends today.

I’m going to sneak upstairs, and take one of his precious little Protectors hostage. I’m going to force him to kill me, while I can still felt it. While I’m still whole…And I’m going to do it now. I hope, for all your sakes, that I succeed, and that we never meet. Because if we do meet, I’ll kill you. Bye.

Walter - shoots ice beams and controls wind.

I used to think my life stunk. I suppose it still stinks, if I bother to think about it - I mean, for god's sake, I'm being imprisoned by an evil dictator. But it doesn't feel like it…not anymore, I mean. Not since I met Ericka.

But that's starting my story a bit early, I guess. If I'm going to take the time to write down my life story, I might as well get it right, right? Not that anyone will care, mind you. No one ever gets a message out from Plitora's cells. Truthfully, there's no reason to even write this, except for one - Ericka. It makes her happy, thinking that some fellow prisoner will find our lives, and know our stories. I'd do anything for her, so I'll write this, though I doubt you'll ever read this, whoever you may be. Because it doesn't matter in the end, whether you read it or not - she'll know. And so will I.

I can't really start at the beginning, truthfully, because I don't know when that was. I don't know what sent them to me, what caused my life to turn so horrid. All I can tell you is about the night when they first entered my life. It's not like I'll ever forget it.

I was five, if you really want to know. It was my birthday, and mom had all my favorites - mashed potatoes, peas, roast beef so succulent it seemed to melt in my mouth. And for desert, home-made ice cream the like of which you have never tasted, so creamy that just thinking about it can bring forth a moan of pleasure, and a cake so rich that just looking at it could give you a heart attack. I never got to eat a bite of it, though. And I've never eaten it since. Not one pea, not a single bite of roast beef. Not a bit of ice cream, not a crumb of cake. Because even as I was lifting that fork, laden with food, to my mouth, they came with their razor disks and their concealing masks, and they murdered my family. Every single one of them - my mom, my dad, my big sis, who argued with me every day of the year, even on my birthday - all of them. They were killed, with those razor disks, as I was forced to watch, to look on every moment, to see every gristly drop of blood. And then they left, a single man staying behind to whisper in my ear, "This is your fault, monster." And I believed him.

How could I not? Every member in my family was dead. Every person I cared about was gone - when I finally got the courage to leave the house, I discovered that my friends had been killed too, a single message scrawled across every one of their walls in blood: monster. It seemed to describe me so perfectly.

So I didn't resist as they dragged me off to the group home. I didn't say a word, as the kids pummeled me, and the staff kicked at me. Didn't complain at the lack of food - my group home wasn't one of the best. Why would it be? Who cared about a monster like me?

The only time I said a word was when couples came to look at me, to pick me out for adoption. I kicked and screamed the instant I saw the spark of acceptance in their eyes. They didn't deserve to be straddled with me, didn't deserve to go through what my parents had gone through, what my friends had gone through, simply for knowing me.

My plan worked, too. No one adopted me, no one paid much attention to me, no one cared about me. Just the way it should be. And then, one day, a couple came - they didn't care about my tantrums. They didn't care that I was an unmanageable monster - they wanted a kid no one else would take. They wanted a child whose life they could change, once and for all. So they took me. Eventually, I even grew to love them…and then they came again. They killed everyone I cared about, and it was back to the group home again. Only this time, no one kicked me. No one punched me. No one looked at me…they were afraid of me.

All but her - that one special girl who saw through me, who gripped my heart and refused to let it go. I tried to resist her, of course, at first…but she held on. She was tenacious that way. She fought me, and loved me, and cared for me, and I gave in. I let myself care for her, forgetting for a selfish moment what it would mean, and I kissed her, on a grassy knoll. My very first kiss.

She died, giving it to me, a razor disk in her back.

They were called exterminators, I found out. Killers of those with magic - killers of those like me. Only they didn't just kill you. They tortured, they hurt, they drove you into the ground and waited until you were begging for death before even coming close to delivering the killing blow. And the one coming after me was the worst…

It took me a long time to realize it, but I got there in the end. I wasn't the monster. I wasn't the villain. I wasn't the one who deserved to die…they were. They did. Or more accurately, he did. The one who had whispered in my ear, the one who had stalked me. From the research I had poured into them, I knew it wasn't the entire group. I knew that they assigned one man to one child, from the very beginning, to torment and taunt. His job was to bring out the darkness in a wizard so that he could kill him and be the hero, proving to the world how horrid we really were, to show the world that we were monsters. Maybe he was right, but I wasn't going down alone.

I went after him, with everything I had. Did research, looked for sources, and slowly but surely built a picture of who it was that had been assigned to me until I knew everything I needed to know. He knew I knew, no doubt, but it didn't matter. The man had wanted a monster - it was time he got to see what he had wrought.

Once I had his name, it wasn't that hard - a little bit of searching, some prodding, and I had an address. In only a few short days, I was outside his house, smashing through his window, and rolling on the ground, sword in hand, ignoring the sharp lacing pain of the glass against my knees.

Nothing went right, after that. The man had a daughter, a girl no older than me, just fourteen, staring at me like I was the monster, horror in her eyes. The man who had haunted my dreams was nothing but an ordinary father, an ordinary person, looking into my eyes and seeing death, but not caring. Only looking towards his daughter, trying to shield her without being able to move a muscle. How does one react to that?

"Leave, Ericka."

"Dad!" Her horror had turned to anger with the simple calling of her name.

"I told you to leave."

"Dad…”

"Leave. This isn't your battle."

"You're my dad."

"And you're my daughter. Forever and always. Now leave."

"You'd let me stay if I was a son."

"Don't make me repeat myself."

I stood there, staring the entire time, sword frozen in place, while the only hostage I could have taken fled the room. I don't think I could have moved if he had struck me - but he didn't. Just looked me over with his eyes.

"We both know why you're here. Might as well get it over with, son."

"Don't call me that," I whispered through gritted teeth, anger temporarily thawing me.

"Why not? I know you better than any of those parents you had…I've watched you since the day you were born. I've watched you grow, watched your first kiss…"

"Killed the kisser."

"We fathers are allowed our over-protective quirks, are we not?'

"You called me a monster."

"Yes . . . yes, I did. What's your point? Are you going to kill me for it? Are you going to drive that piece of steel through my heart, like the monster I once named you? Or are you just going to stand there."

I just stood there.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you after all - monsters aren't weak."

"I hate you."

"Then get it over with, why don't you?"

I remembered their faces, every one of them. My family whimpering, my play dates, as I imagine them, caught by surprise so quickly they never had a chance to defend themselves. My girlfriend, the look of shock on her face as she sat there, being kissed by me even as she entered her death throes, me never knowing.

I took a step forward, then another, till he was right in front of me, my sword against his neck, pain swirling through me, my powers growing within me, causing papers to rustle. Ice began to frost on the sword as my girlfriend's look of shock and horror pierced my brain for the tenth time in the last few minutes.

"Go on, son…it'll be so easy."

I hated him. I hated that he was right, and I hated how much I wanted to do it, as the images swirled through my brain, finally getting caught on one image in particular. Not one of his though, one of my mine. His fourteen-year-old daughter, staring up at me with horror.

The sword fell from my hand, clattering against the ground. The man's expression hardened immediately. "Pity…I had hoped you would have done it yourself. Would have been so less messy."

Before I could even begin to make sense of his statement, steel was flashing through the air, hitting its target with a soft thud.

The man had just stabbed himself.

"So much easier, if you had done it - so much quicker. So little angles to worry about. But this will have to do, now won't it?"

"Why…?" was all I managed.

"To bring you two pain, of course."

"Two?"

"My daughter, Walter, my daughter. She's one of you, you know - a wizard; a monster. She has to die. But I can't bring myself to do it. I can't bring myself to be the one who brings her to her knees - my belief is strong, but my will is weak. So I decided that I would make you do it . . . two birds in one fell swoop. Congratulations, Walter. As far as the public is concerned, you're a monster. And when my poor little daughter discovers me dead, by your hands, she will do everything in her power to bring you down. In other words, the public will be shown once more how monsters like you cannot be trusted to follow the laws, as another takes it into her own hand. I will have won, in death, where I never could have succeeded in life."

"You can't…"

"I can, Walter. You've known me long enough to know that. I always can, and no one will ever care, because I'm human, and you aren't." His voice was faltering now, but it didn’t matter. He’d already done the damage; the speech was just extra.

"Dad?" came a voice. I spun, to see the daughter of that monster staring at me; her horror reflected back at me a thousand fold.

"Dad!" She rushed past me, not even caring about what I did, as her father gasped for breath

"I'm…sorry…Ericka. I tried to stay…for you…I didn't want to leave you."

"Dad!"

Who had known that a simple word could hold so much pain?

"Don't …fret, dear…you'll be alright without me…I know you will. You're strong girl…always strong. Runs in these genes of ours...you'll be strong. I know it…" he closed his eyes.

"No," I whispered.

Her head whipped around to look at me, anger and pain gathering in her eyes, along with something less definable. Something…powerful. The house shook, the glass breaking as vines stretched for me.

"You killed my dad!"

"No!"

The vines began to wrap their tendrils around my arms, and legs, pulling taut.

"You destroyed the only one I had left."

"You don't understand," I whispered. Faces flashed through my mind, again - not his victims though, but my own. Her face, every time, showing her horror, and her anger, and her pain. My victim. My monstrosity of a masterpiece.

The vines began to pull tighter, almost ripping me apart, and I didn’t resist. How could I? I had created her, hadn't I? I had made her this way.

I could feel my joints tearing, my limbs groaning under the stress as they pulled me apart! And then another image popped into my head, that of the man saying, "I will have won…"

"No…" I whispered, my own power gathering around me, destroying the vines in a frosty blast as I broke free. I ran, my powers freezing any vines that dared come near me. I ran, for miles and miles, long after the plants ceased to reach for my boots. I didn't just run from her, but from the memory of her, the knowledge that he had been right. I had made her into a monster, and it would only be a matter of time before she came home to roost.

In a way, I was right. We were both captured by Plitora, thrown in her prison, in a single cell together. An experiment on her part, I suppose. She's supposed to be fond of them. We're still there now, though, and still alive.

She'd found her father's notes, his plans, what he had intended to do. She knew, and she was hurt, and she was horrified, but she wasn't a monster. He had failed.

Sometimes, I wonder if he had wanted that - failure. He hadn’t needed to leave any notes. He needn’t have left any documents around, no matter how well hidden. But he did, and she found them - even monsters love sometimes, I suppose, in their own twisted ways.

All I really know is that I love her, and she loves me, even as she hates me. She does hate me, I think, though she never says it. She doesn't think I know, but I do. I see it in her eyes, every once in a while, hidden there amongst the love. She still blames me for her father’s death, and still wonders if I was really the one to plunge the blade into his heart, no matter his plans.

I don't care if she hates me, though…because she loves me, and because the worst has already happened. We are in Plitora's cell, awaiting death. My love can do her no harm, and that makes me love her all the more. I need her, and she needs me - even in this dank little pit, she makes my life bearable. She makes me happy.

Who cares if my life stinks? I have her. And I always will. I haven't seen in her a couple of days, mind you. But she'll be back - she always is. That's why it's love.

My name is Walter, and I just told you the story of my life.

Ethan Can change any part of body into anything that he can think of as a weapon

My life story isn't really all that long. Hell, it isn't even very good. Half of it goes to my sister, for saving me from a fire when we were both kids...She died. And as stupid, and egocentrical as it sounds, she ruined my life because of it.

Alive, the girl would have been a local hero, a temporary celebrity to be talked about, and forgotten. But dead? The girl was a saint, a martyr, a...I don't even know what the hell people saw her as, but they sure saw her as better than me. I mean, i grew up with parents who saw me, and cried because i wasn't the daughter they had lost. They loved me well enough, cared for me, cherrished me. But i still wasn't Eilonwy. In school, my sister was the reason people talked to me. My sister was the one teachers compared me to-they didn't even know her when she was alive, yet they felt oh so justfified telling me how my sister would have gotten an A, or how my sister would have been more helpful, or how my sister wouldn't have been such a big bad failure. I couldn't even go down the street without seeing a statue of the girl!

You're probably wondering how the hell my sis became such big news for so little things, but it really isnt' that hard to believe where i come frome...We're a small town. We don't get much done, we don't contribute much, and when someone does something, everyone takes notice. So, when the poeple started looking for someone to talk about, and cherish, and build reports on, who did they turn to but the girl who died? The first dramatic thing to happen to this family in a hundred years. Okay, so maybe she deserved the attention afterr sving my life and all, but did she have to get it at my expense?

In the end, though, it wasn't my sister that ended my life. It was the measals. I was baby-sitting some rich brat, on account of my relation to Eilonwy, and the kid got the freaking measals, and died. Next thing you know the family is suing me. And thanks to Plitora's fucked up legal system, they actually won. I ended up running way from home, on the run from the law, because of a stupid case of the measals!

In the end, though, it all worked out. I joined a rebellion, met a girl-named after my sister, far as i can tell, but whatever-and joined the protectors, something my sister, never accomplished. Life's going pretty good. Girl wasn't that interested in me, at first, but i think i'm bringing her around...Tonight, i'm gonna ask her to marry me.

Sam’s Story

Sam is a conjurer-nothing fancy yet. His main claim to fame is that he’s a werewolf.

Hi…I’m Sam. The vicious monster I’m sure you’re going to be hearing all about in the story that’s to come. For the record…I’m not proud. But what else is one to do, when you’re a monster, and the cure is dangled in front of your face? When someone tells you that you don’t have to worry anymore-that you don’t have to avoid friends, that you won’t wake up one morning with the blood of your girlfriend all on your teeth, and the sweet delicious taste of human flesh upon your tongue.

I know, I know-I’m getting ahead of myself. Sorry. I just…like I said, I’m not proud. At all. But that doesn’t mean I won’t tell you the story.

It started off when I was twelve, I guess. The memory is a bit hazy. I had an illness, something deadly. The doctors couldn’t cure me, couldn’t even diagnose me. Nobody knew what it was, or how to cure it. Potions did nothing, spells came back empty handed. My parents were desperate. Not to mention rich-did I fail to mention that we were some minor form of nobility? I never particularly cared about the title, so long as I could have what I wanted when I wanted it. The only thing I didn’t get was the cure, no matter how much money my parents threw around.

And then the werewolves came-they told my parents they could cure me, by making me one of them. They said that the transformation would kick my immune system up a notch, or some such thing. That wasn’t me not caring, by the way-that was them not telling me a thing. No one bothered to ask if I wanted to be a werewolf. They just fed me their little concoction of blood, spit, and seman-the perfect mixture for the perfect levels of control.

They had the ruination of my life down to a science.

They were going to train me, I think. No, I’m certain of it…I was delirious, at the time, and they were forcing the concoction down my throat. Either way, the training never came. How could it, when I woke up one night, half transformed, and ripped out the throat of my worried girlfriend…It was an arranged marriage, actually, but still. I liked her well enough-maybe would have started to love her.

And I killed her.

That’s not why I ran away though-not really…I ran away because no one cared. I mean, they cared a little-her family was powerful. But mine was more connected, more powerful. The moment they found me sobbing in a corner, her body on the ground, they started talking about cleanups, and cover-ups, and how to make it up to the family-how much money to give them. They didn’t even care that a girl was dead, at my hands. They didn’t care about what they had done to me.

That was the first time I really saw what my family was like-how they had managed to stay in power. And I couldn’t take it-so I ran. I skipped out on the training, and ran for the forest, changing back and forth erratically, doing my best to train myself, and losing control fully every full moon, hoping that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning with bloody lips, and wondering if I would wake up at all.

Eventually, Plitora tracked me down, and I was shoved into a cell with Walter. Kevin’s little book tells the story from there on.

Phantasma and Katrina.

Phantasma-ghost powers. Called Katrina when not accessing those powers. Katrina-Controls Water.

Okay, first things first, let's get something straight. I'm not here to complain, or whine about my life, o any such stupid thing. If you want that, go listen to Ethan. The only reason I’m even doing this is because Kevin promised me a month of non interference while I prank Ethan. Least he deserves...He gave his story up for a month of non interference while he wails on Walter, and Walter wrote his story while in Plitora's Prison, so he didn't even got to cut a deal/. He probably would have just asked for the same thing as Ethan, anyway...Point is, I’m not here to wail, I'm to render a service in return for compensation. So buckle up and listen or get the hell out of my life story, and skip to chapter one of Kevin's little archives/

My story starts off a lot like Eilonwy's. House catches on fire, IO try to save my baby brother, same old same old,. Only difference is, I hesitated. Not for long, mind you. Just an instant or two...but an instant can change your life. I

I was an instant away from my brother when the roof collapsed over his head and crushed his tiny little skull. I was just a moment away from my parents when the house fell apart, and whatever stupid survival instincts I possessed kicked in, making my ghost powers work and keeping me alive/. If I’d been touching them, it would have saved them too...But I already told you-I’m not here to complain. I intend to stick by that.

'Sides, my life's not that bad. I have Katrina to keep my company. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

After my family died, I went to the group homes, and even stayed there, until I was about fourteen. After that, me and my friend Katrina made a run for it.

I don't know what happens in your group homes, but ours...they aren't so great. Trust me, we were better off on the street. At least there we got to eat on a semi-regular basis.

I'm not quite proud of what I did out there, but we survived, and Katrina didn't have to sell her body out to whatever man looked her way. That's a win as far as I’m concerned. Besides, we made a good team out there...I distracted the idiot men, she snuck in and stole all their valuables. if they men weren't hormone driven idiots they didn't get their stuff stolen. And if I couldn't bring in enough to feed Katrina through thievery alone…Well, she stayed fed. That's what matters, far as I’m concerned.

Things weren’t exactly smooth, I admit, but they worked. It lasted. At least, it lasted until that final job...We were robbing this old mansion; a really big job. I mean, this place wasn't just a building, it was an one-dimensional mansion! It had its own rain for goodness sake!

Rain forest or no, it should have been easy. I apses through walls, Katrina can control every molecule of water in your body, and between the two of us no security system could keep us Only thing is, someone tipped the owners off...There was a Letor waiting for us, complete with it's own electricity shooting rider.

They caught us in the rain forest; why did they have a rain forest? I mean, come on! Anyway, no matter their reasons, they caught us there. And that's where I died.

The Letor got me...For those o f you who have never met a Letor, here's a few fun facts about them-they have the bodies of a dragon, cheetah front legs, rabbit hind legs, and jaguar heads-sometimes dogs. But the real kicker comes from their tail-a basilisk. Mini form, it's true, but that doesn’t help that much when you start turning to stone.

I threw myself between it and Katrina, to protect her, and I pushed her away. I even managed to keep up with her, at first, though my body was turning to stone. It didn't really matter though. I just wanted her to be al right.

Katrina was the one good thing I’d ever done with my life...

Anyway, I guess I trained her well, because she never stopped, even when I fell behind her. She just kept on running...It would have been foolish to have tried to kill the thing, anyway. Letor's never really die-they just shift forms to something worse, and than revert back to their old bodies...I'm just glad Katrina followed her training.

I did not follow my training! I didn't know you'd fallen behind!

Shh, girl! I’m complimenting you. Go do your own life story if you want to differ.

This IS my life story! We made the deal together, remember?

Stop reminding me of facts, and let me finish the story!

Anyway, I continued watching her after I died...I saw her, before she used the lake as a water portal. It was kinda sweet, the way she looked around, hesitantly, waiting for me to pop up...But she made the right choice, and jumped in before the Lector could get her. Of course, the stupid rider had to go and blast the lake full of electricity after she did, so I had no way of knowing whether she was even alive, but since no ghost popped up, I figured she was alright.

Then Alonnie and Writer appeared-they're these super being kinda things that offered me a deal. Said I could live my life by sharing a body with an alternate version of my friend Katrina, from another dimension, and save us both from death.

They didn't mention that it was a male, of course, but hey, things worked out.

Katrina and me ended up in the same body, and everyone was happy...Whoo hoo.

Only thing is, from that day forth, I stopped being Katrina. I was Phantasma, plain and simple.

.Oh stop your complaining Phantasma...at least what happened to you was PLANNED. I was an accident.

Hey, I died. That gives me complaining privileges.

Sure it does…and for the last time I didn’t see you there!

Well you should have! You stepped right over me!

Well I didn’t! and it’s not like I didn’t get changed too...

Girls! Enough! Or at least let ME Complain a bit…I’m the one who has to deal with being turned into a girl every two seconds…and what’s with that anyways? And this whole constantly turning into water thing isn’t much fun either…

Alright, alright, you don’t need to tell us your life story….At least not in the middle of MINE!.

What life story? All I see is a list of complaints.

You know if we weren’t in the same body….

You’d STILL Complain.

Ha ha ha.