A powerful though corrupted Seer, though she lived within boundaries of Steel and Glass, had also the Vision.

She moved, quick and hidden as a Shadow, across All Known Existence to find the Two.

If They could be prevented from returning to the Void that They shared, she could become All Powerful.

All Seeing, All Knowing.

This she desired above All Else, and strove tirelessly Year after Year...



by Akira Ichijouji



Xiang Yiluan stepped quietly from the meeting.

Oh, so, so easy. It had been a cinch to infiltrate the so-called "secret" meetings. She had been coming for months now -- the meetings were so regular, so obvious, and so trusting that no one could even fathom that the sweet-looking Chinese woman in her mid-twenties who had been a regular member of the PANWO could not have their best interests at heart.

Yiluan touched the fabric that covered the tattoo directly below her collarbone. It was jagged and dark, an empty, frightening color. Black tendrils curled around a sharp, evil shape, cutting and impaling themselves on its dark surfaces and insidious edges. She was bound to it, bound hand and foot and heart for life and possibly all lives to come.

The Chinese woman had kept Darius Setâreh under nearly constant surveillance for at least a year now. It was so obvious he was a Protector of the Order -- the tattoo he blatantly displayed on his forehead was clue enough. How mind-numblingly stupid could one get?

And she had seen them. Guang Yuan and Ah Zhong. The Ultimate Protectors themselves.

They might as well have had tattoos as well.

The boy Hibashira Mujaki, Avatar of Guang Yuan, Noor, Srrvant, or Hikari, had such unique looks that he could be picked off in the middle of a crowd on a foggy day by an untrained sniper with one blind eye and shaking hands. Tsuuriki Kebala, Avatar of Ah Zhong, Târik, Zyamala, or Kaimei, looked much like the other Indian residents of New New Delhi, but the look of rapt and unbreaking adoration his gaze held for Mujaki, and the other way around, made it obvious enough.

They couldn't be allowed to regain their power.

Yiluan had taken the oath of Chaos when she was but fourteen, vowing to do all possible to keep the two boys from meeting.

She, and others like her, had failed.

Now all they could hope to do was to repeatedly kill the Avatars in every reincarnation from this point on, keeping them trapped in the cycle of mortal rebirth until their divine souls forgot the aforementioned divinity.

Easy enough.

Yiluan knew where they were at that very moment. They were in the private chambers of one Darius Setâreh, most likely catching up on matters very intimately.

The Chinese woman smiled suddenly, feeling the tattoo on her chest fill her veins with inky, trembling warmth. She shivered beneath its icy burning, eyes lit with the fires of her Purpose.

She was Hate; she was sneering, corrupting Wickedness; she was, before all else, Chaos.

Yiluan shrieked within the boundaries of her mind, the high-pitched, keening cry calling all those with her same objective to her.

They came, bidden, sudden jabs of pain, from the corners of dark alleys, from drinking the secret blood of the Underground, away from the intoxicating beat of the darkness of hearts, away from the carrion of the modern world.

They came.