(Author's note: To just start with the story, skip to the dotted lines.

The people I've showed the story as it is in full atm tend to say that there is a major disconnect between this chapter and the first. They get connected later on, so just want to reassure. Also, I'm trying to edit subsequent chapters as I get feedback, so hopefully they will look better as they are added. My plan currently is to put the first three up, one every 4-6 days, see how that goes.)

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Chapter 2

Looking up at the form above him, Alex asked, "Where the hell did you come from anyway. I've read of people's souls being bound in crystals and gemstones, but never bodies in crystals."

"Really?" asked Malacite, more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm surprised that your master wouldn't have enlightened you on such facts..."

"Mieveles!" cried Demino as the choker around Malacite's neck glimmered with a deep purple. At the command Malacite fell silent, gagging slightly. Although his face relaxed as the glow dimmed, his eyes burned with fury. Nearly matching Malacite's rage, Demino exclaimed, "You will not speak of the ancient times, do you understand? You will answer our questions and then I will place you back in that prison of yours!"

Choosing his words carefully, Malacite gazed briefly at Alex before replying to Demino, "It would do you well to remember Mediator, that once my neck is freed from this choker, your words will be powerless." Although his voice remained calm, his words were chilled and his tone in no way kind; each word possessed special meaning, though subtle. Such meaning had not been lost on Demino it seemed, for they made him seem ill at ease about something.

Turning his entire form to face Alex, Malacite continued after giving bit more thought to what he said. 'I will answer your questions, although a bit out of order to comply with your'� master's wishes. Although it is difficult to preserve a body within crystals, it is quite possible to do so if not without risk. My particular case is... unique... But there is no need to dwell further into that. My origins are none of your concern, and your master over there hasn't the slightest clue himself. Given that, he cannot force me to speak of it." Returning his eyes over his shoulder to Demino, he added, "Anything else before I return to my seemingly eternal rest?"

Alex's curiosity was increasing by the second, but with Demino in the mood that he was, by he dared not risk inquiring further. Instead, he watched his master, curious as to why Demino sought Malacite's council. Demino had led them through many lands to get to this place, yet Alex had yet to learn anything as to why. He had some ideas based off of the texts Demino kept with him at all times, but nothing definite.

Demino stared directly at Malacite, annoyed at the disobedience he displayed. Still, he knew well that he spoke the truth: Unless Demino knew of what he sought, at least to some extent, he held no power to question Malacite. Likewise, he knew all to well that he didn't possess anywhere near the power to force such knowledge. Lucky for him he had no desire to know such petty things. Pulling out a translucent blue vial, he rolled it around in his palm, a clear liquid barely noticeable inside. "Do you know what is held within this vial?" he asked.

"Of course, Tears of Reverence, although I don't know how someone like you could get your greedy little hands on it. They're old and rare; less than a bucket full exist. If I remember correctly, the one who made them was brutally murdered, making them incredibly rare and valuable. Even when I was free they were very uncommon ingredients for..." said Malacite, interest apparent in his voice as he looked closely at the vial.

Before he could finish his thoughts, Demino cut in. "Your tongue betrays your curiosity, Crafter. I came here to seek the source, so that I may know where the constructs lay. Of all that I've sought during countless decades of travel, you are the only one known to know their whereabouts." The gleam in his eyes, along with his tone revealed how intense his desire for this knowledge was.

Alex noticed out of the corner of his eye that Malacite blanched at the mention of the 'constructs'. In the bits of necromancy Demino taught him on their journeys, a construct was an elemental incarnation of a living being. Beyond that they were tools, mindless slaves ever to serve the ones who made them. Alex wouldn't have been very interested if it hadn't been for Malacite's reaction and the term his master used, calling Malacite 'Crafter'. When he was young, he had heard tales of a magic user capable of incredible power to create nearly anything one could imagine. Though his title was Spiritcrafter, not just Crafter...

"I see. You seek their power for your own.'� Malacite said after a long period of silence. 'If it wasn't for these bindings I would refuse to even acknowledge such a request.'�

'You remain under my'�'� began Demino.

'Still,'� Malacite interrupted, silencing Demino instantly. 'I must submit to answer the questions of the one who summons me, as are the terms of my binding. So be it." With a dim glow in his eyes, he rose off the ground and began to return towards the cave. Deep within, the largest of the crystals that filled the cave shimmered brightly, awaiting the return of its prisoner. As his ethereal form passed into the crystal, he spoke This time, his voice held power, a type only heard of when Oracles saw into the past and future or spoke of prophecy.

'Of the group, 9 remained,
Freedom lost, Power gained,
Bound beneath immortal sands,
Held by chain in feet and hands,

Through the peaks of wrath and hate,
Past the deserts scorn,
Gazing at their future's fate,
Deep in pool's forewarn

Wind, Earth, Water, Fire,
Those which hold the sleepers guard

Light and Shadow, Life and Death,
That which binds what hate has scarred

Of the 9, 8 shall rest
Until they come to pass the test
The last is bound within the gate
Held by...word....Held...by...fa...te....'�

As Malacite's voice struggled to continue speaking, the crystals power took hold. With one final glance at Alex and Demino, he was silenced, his eyes closed and rest resumed. Alex was in complete awe; for he knew somewhere deep within his being that he had witnessed something very important. His thoughts were interrupted as the choker that Demino had placed around Malacite's neck flew out of the crystal, smashing against the nearby wall. Glancing back at his master, he noticed that Demino's face had turned a violent red and was quickly progressing into a deep purple.

"May whatever gods there are damn you until time ends you bastard! I have sought this prison of yours out for years if not decades and all you give me is a riddle!'� Demino was to the point of shouting by the time he finished, foam forming around his mouth. Remembering where he was and who was with him, he quickly wiped his mouth with his sleeve, composed himself, and said, "Alex, it's time to rest. I have what I came for."

"Yes, master" replied Alex, reluctant to leave the cavern's entrance. It was the fear of Demino's anger extending to him that finally forced Alex to go to his knapsack, a worn leather blanket doubled over, and attempt to drift to sleep.

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