• PART 1


    Through the tall grass which clung to his boots, strode Logan Yutar. The air he possessed was of confidence and self-satisfaction. He held this air with no shame; after all, he had done the deed. His mission was complete.

    Contrary to the numerous carcasses that surrounded Logan, no terror, fear or disturbance showed in his step, he passed the dead as though they were nothing more than broken toys. A fallen woman body that was strewn across the path lay in his way and, with a steel capped toe; he kicked her out of the way. No emotion flitted through his eyes.

    The field of dead bodies had become familiar to Logan over the years. It was the battle field he had fought on many times. Victory was always his. Logan never fell for the last time. Not with the life crystal.

    Acidic smoke billowed from the fire Logan had built to burn the dead, the foul smell clung to his cape and wrapped its deadly tentacles around his neck. With only a smirk, Logan unwrapped the feeble smoke trail and never once slowed. This was a time of victory. A time of death.

    Emotionless grey eyes scanned the field from its tree ringed edge, searching for something with no interest. They found their target and were carried towards it. Emotion was betrayed for the first time in the grey eyes as the pace in which they travelled quickened. Thirst filled them, filled every corner until nothing else could be shown.

    Crawling on a broken leg was a girl of maybe seventeen to Logan’s assessment. A survivor, an enemy. Cold metal that spilt the air silently ended the girl’s feeble attempt to escape. All were dead.

    Logan turned the girl’s dead face over to touch the half-sunlight so he could examine her further. Only a small spark showed in his grey-wash eyes as he realised the girl was beautiful. Banished quickly, the spark retreated to where it came from and black humour took their place, filling it with far more power.

    “What a waste of beauty.” Mocked Logan, his voice a deep seductive murmur, edged with the black humour which was blazing in his eyes. Swords returned to the waiting stations, the steady strides claimed Logan’s legs again and he reached the gate, leaving the field more quickly. Rust had possessed the latches of the gate, causing the opening to be slow and loud. Unfazed by this delay, he continued with his previous air down the next field. Towards the statue.

    Black as the midnight sky, the statue stood out glaringly amongst the over-grown, pale grass. Unable to conceal the wonder that flashed in his eyes, Logan admired the statue’s beauty as he halted; his boots were now a deeper shade of grey from the wet vegetation.

    The statue consisted of two magnificent, night black rings, towering over the pathetic vegetation of the field, drawing the eye. Caught up in the beauty of the statue, Logan stood, transfixed in the grass. Drawing breath quietly, he began to slowly walk towards the statue, reaching inside a pouch hanging from his neck. Glistening in the sunlight, he pulled out a purple coloured crystal, so dark it nearly matched the statue before it.

    Trembling, Logan lowered the crystal into a bowl, waiting at the foot of the statue. Immediately, the bowl filled with a glowing liquid, immersing the crystal entirely. As the liquid twisted and writhed as through it had form and life, Lids fell like curtains apon the grey eyes of Logan the ring’s assassin and the hands that were linked picked up the bowl.

    Pale-skinned lips parted as the bowl breached their surface, the living liquid tumbling down into the beyond. Wincing, Logan had to admit the liquid burnt and pained his throat, yet he knew what was next and succumbed to enduring the liquids torturous effects.

    Visions appeared behind the closed lids and Logan saw for not the first time, the Dark profile of his master, the master now, of this world. Pride filled Logan as he once again witnessed his lord and gratefulness once again overcame him for being saved from the siege.

    Painful memories overcame Logan for a moment as he remembered the beginning of the take over, as he had fought to keep the rebels at bay. He imagined being one of the rebels and laughed coldly; knowing death would have been the only path of him. The ring master was unstoppable, without equal.

    Reopening, his mind beared witness again to his master. The black outline was as it had always been merely black, no features or obvious shapes. Sound began to emerge from what Logan believed was his masters lips.
    “You have served me well Logan Yutar, the assassin of night. Once again your mission has been fulfilled without fault or flaw.” Came the cold hiss that was now familiar to Logan. Emotion seized Logan’s mind at the flattery, more powerful than in the field with the dead.
    “Master…Thank you. It is an honour to serve, an honour to fight.” Shivers raced down His spine as Logan addressed his master.

    “There is only one more thing I require from you assassin.” Replied the hiss, stating no welcome for Logan’s thanks. Lights filled Logan’s dream eyes at the prospect of pleasing his master.
    “What will you have me do master?” he enquired, heart pounding as his psyche raced to find something he had not yet accomplished.
    “Wipe out the rebellion entirely.” Echoed the soulless voice in the vision, the vision which suddenly drew to a close.


    Grey irises were suddenly visible as Logan’s eyelids flew open as the vision ended. Gasping, Logan keeled onto his knees and regained his breath, a simple after-effect of contacting the ring Master. Emotion slowly faded from the grey eyes and returned to being silent at the back of Logan’s mind. Emotions were for the weak.

    Large hands rose to Logan’s temples as he thought deeply about his last and ultimate mission. Destroy the rebellion. It had never been done before. Reclaiming the dark crystal, Logan allowed the veil of sleep and dreams to take him and he laid his Black haired head in the damp grass, eyes closing slowly as the blackness took him.