Chapter 2

Volondove was overwhelmed by grief at the loss of his beloved wife. All through the day he mourned for her at the bed side until he collapsed a second time.

When he finally woke up it was the middle of the day. His extreme levels of exhaustion and lack of sleep had knocked him out completely, plunging him into what could very well be the deepest sleep in his life.

When he woke up he was so grieved at her sudden death that he could barely even think about his work. He barely had the spirit to get himself going for the day. All his focus was now on giving her the best burial and funeral he could do.

This was rather easy to plan and execute. Volondove was the last living member of his family tree, as was Natilda of her family tree. So everything was up to him to do. He had to do all the planning, all the digging, and the rest of the burial process was all on him.

This would be a great challenge for his emotions though. Being the only one around to perform a funeral for his own wife would without a doubt pull on his emotional strings quite a bit, possibly to a point of no return.

But he knew it had to be done. It was what she would have wanted. And as much as he wanted to, lying in his bed feeling sorry about it wasn't gonna get this tragedy over with. He figured the sooner he got her into the ground the less stress he would have to endure. So he reluctantly got up out of his bed and immediately got to work.

He started building the coffin first, as he had already cut some lumber a few days ago into long boards. They were originally going to be used for a bench. But this was more important to him.

The assembly process went rather smoothly, despite the constant reminder that this was for his dead wife. But he did his best to block the horrific thought from his mind and stay on task.

In just a few hours the wooden coffin was complete. Next he got to work on her tomb stone. Unfortunately for him he didn't have a stone good enough for the job. Nor did he have the money to afford a good one. So as a compromise he crafted a wooden one for her.

It was about as tall as a large chopping block, and about as thick as a two by four. He made it in the shape of the Rubelix, the religious symbol of the ancient Tistive.

It was a rod with five heads branching out in four directions. At the top of each branch end was another symbol representing the gods. A sword for Zomar the god of war and peace. A skull for Neth the god of the after life. A sickle for Arnigier the god of the earth and the sea. An hour glass for Lindel the god of time and prosperity. And on the center road was the silhouette of the upper half of a large man to represent Galian the chief of the gods.

In just four hours he made the wooden Rubelix and mounted it onto a plank no higher than his waist.

It wasn't the best piece of work he had done nor was it what he originally wanted for her. The lumber he used was cheep and not very good. But it was what he had available. He then took the plank carved the words; here lies Natilda Caladian. Born 982 E3 left us 1011 E3 rest in peace. this was carved in the tongue of the Tistive.

He had never really learned that much about the tistive cuniform symbols or their language all that much. But from what he had learned from their spell books he had back in the work shop it just kinda clicked with him. And was able to pick it up surprisingly quick.

After the tomb stone was completed, he went outside to dig her grave. He took his slightly rusted shovel out from the back shed. It was a small room built in the back of the house just big enough to hold several lawn maintenance tools.

He creaked the door open, took out the shovel that was hanging up by a long nail and went to the back of the property. He looked around for a good place to bury her. Then he found it. At the corner of the property where he barely went as it was overgrown with weeds and not good for much else. He trudged over there dragging the shovel as he went and began to dig.

An hour had already passed. A pile of dirt was growing next to the grave. He figured this part of the property would be a good spot for her to be buried. Just a few feet to his right was his his father's old, abandoned work shop near the wood line. The two of them used to spend a lot of time together in that old and rotting shack prior to their marriage.

Back when the structure was still strong enough to hold the weight of a human, They would lay on the roof at night and watch the stars come out on a clear night. They would often admire the brightness of the duel moons and stars as the lighting set a somewhat romantic mood all around.

Other times when it was bright and sunny out they would go out there to dance together from time to time. The two of them would spend hours on end together alone in (or on the roof of) that shed. And as he recalled that was also the place where he first proposed to her 5 years ago. He could still see the excited look on her face when he popped the question that fateful day.

It only made sense to bury her in the place she loved so much. And the shack was in the corner of his back yard. A clear view of it could be seen from the back window of the kitchen. So that the grave would serve as a constant reminder of the tragic loss. As he thought about it, a simple peak out the window would be all it takes to trigger his emotions again why did the shack have to be so visible from the house?

But trying to stay on the bright side, it was close enough for him to visit her anytime he wanted. He could come see her everyday if he wanted to.

But he chose not to dwell on the memories for long. It was just too painful for him right now. So instead he just kept digging the hole in the ground. In the past, he found that manual labor had always distracted himself from his emotions and from the sorrows he had.

But although he was doing his best to distract his emotions via manual labor, the memories and fantasies of a family life he had always dreamed of having still haunted him. The emotional thoughts soon flooded into his heart and mind like a tidal wave cracking down on a itty bitty cargo ship.

He fantasized of a small family of his own all alone in the woods where he had grown up. The place where his father raised him, and where his child (or children) would grow up. and hopefully where his grand children and maybe his great grand children would have grown up someday.

The thought of a lovely wife in his arms made him feel warm inside for a brief moment. And the thought of a child who he could spoil on the holidays, and punish for hitting a rock through the window, and raise up in the same way his father had raised him before once again triggered his emotions. This time in a positive way.

But it only took a single look at the human sized hole he had dug up to quickly remind him of the bitter reality of death. His wife was now gone forever, and with her, his unborn child had gone away as well. He was expecting it to be a boy, but he would have been be happy either way. His dreams of a family life were obliterated.

He could have simply re-married someone else and have that family dream come true. But he had made a promise to both his father and to Natilda that he would have no more than one woman in his life. And he was insistent on keeping that promise for as long as he lived.

The feeling of his life long dreams being shattered into a million pieces made him break out in tears again. His crying quickly escalate into a loud sob as more and more memories and fantasies continued to barrage his head like a raging river surging through a small dam.

"I'm sorry my love. It's all my fault." He said to him self.

"It's my fault you are gone. I never should have taken up dwarven alchemy in the first place." He said out loud to himself through his sobs.

"You were right all along Natilda. I should have brought you to the wood elves the first time..." He said as tears continually rolled down his face.

"God's d#$@ my sense of responsibility. God's d$#& my independent mind set. No, god's d#$& me! Gods d#$& me to the underworld!"

As he repeated the curses to himself, an emotional outburst overtook his heart and mind. In a sudden burst of rage he threw the shovel he had in his hands into the wood line like one would throw a javelin. as he continued to curse himself in sheer anger and rage. He got down on his hands and knees in sadness as he continued to mourne hysterically.

"Excuse me sir." A voice said suddenly. Volondove was whipped his head up, startled that someone was here on the property. Seeing that not many people live in this particular region, with the exception of a few lone elves, the sudden voice threw him off.

He looked around the area to see who was speaking to him. A rustling sound in the nearby brush caught his immediate attention. Just a few feet away from the grave he dug, something was moving around.

From among the wood line a skinny old man with a long white beard and a ragged old tunic came out from the brush. He was holding his shovel in his left hand, and a shiny, yet slightly jagged walking stick in his right. And the pure white eyes the man had made him look even more unsettling.

"Pardon me good sir, but did you lose a shovel by any chance?" The stranger said holding the rusted tool out for volondove to take.

Volondove wiped the tears from his face before getting back up to his feet to take back the shovel. But as he was still in a state of anger towards his own personal flaws, he banged the shovel up against his face on the flat side before throwing to the shovel back onto the ground again, this time in the opposite direction from the wood line.

The stranger jumped back in shock as to what he had just witnessed.

"Oh my goodness!" He said.

"I am terribly sorry. I didn't mean to catch you at such a bad time sir. Are you alright?" He asked grasping his walking stick with both hands. Volondove took a deep breath to calm himself down a bit.

"No. It's not your fault." He replied still self groveling through his sins.

"Uhh, mister. Your head is bleeding a bit." The old one said concerned for his well being.

"Forget about it." Volondove replied instantly.

"It is just a scratch. Its the least I diserve."

"Oh, ok then. If you say it will be fine." The old man said clearly seeing Volondove's moment of weakness.

"Well I don't mean to bother you for too terribly long good sir. pardon me for being nosey but you seem to be in a great trouble. might I ask what it is that grieves you so mister?"

"Please." Volondove said holding up his hand as a gesture to stop talking. "Please don't make me re-live the moment again. Not around here." Volondove said as tears weld up in his eyes once again.

The stranger quickly got the hint, and kept his mouth shut on the subject.

"I am dreadfully sorry that you are going through such a difficult time right now." The stranger said looking down at the human sized pit.

"But uhh, is there anything I can do to help you sir? Before I take my leave? Is there something you need to ease your pain?" He asked.

"I would hate to be a burden and leave." Volondove gave a large huff of grief before giving his answer.

"Not unless you can bring dead back to life." He said with a sudden change of pitch in his voice. He started to speak softer as to not frighten the old man.

"Oh, I see." The elder said.

"Well, in that case, I am afraid I'm of no help to you there." He said as he watched Volondove break down right in front of him.

"But maybe, uhh... perhaps uhh... if it isn't too much of a burden for you at the moment uhhh... Maybe you can help me with something? Perhaps? Maybe?"

Volondove pulled his head up as he heard this and tried to pull himself together. Maybe this man just came by to buy some lumber from him. Although normally he would sell his wood supply at a trading post a few miles away. But it was also common (though not as common) for customers to contact him directly like this guy was. And he figured a little more manual labor could distract him from his sorrows once again. At least for a little while longer.

"Uh yeah. Sure thing mister." He said clearing his face again.

"What kind of lumber are you looking for?" He asked wiping the tears off his face.

"I have oak, dark oak, some pine, a bit of maple spruce..."

"oh hold on there a minute young lad." The stranger interrupted waving his hands out from side to side.

"I'm not looking to buy any wood."

Volondove wiped the last of the tears from his face as he pondered this guy's motives.

"Well I'm just a wood worker sir." Volondove explained.

"If you are not here to purchase some wood, then what is it you are looking for?" He asked after clearing his throat a bit.

"I am not looking for something, I'm looking fore someone." The old man answered quickly.

"A very important someone. A human to be exact. I was told there would be someone of great significance somewhere around here."

Volondove wasn't sure what to think of this. As far as he knew he was the only other human in the northern forrest's of Varamath. What would this guy want from him if not to buy some wood?

"Well what are you doing up here then?" He asked out of curiosity.

"You are looking in the wrong place for humans. I am the only human in these parts. You should check one of the human holds and territories to the south from here."

"I am aware of that." The elderly one said.

"And I've been to the human holds already. The man I seek is up here in the north. And very close by. I can Sence it." He said smacking his lips in a rather creepy matter.

Volondove began to get a bit sceptically paranoid of this. How could he have not find the human he was looking for in the human territories and their towns and villages?

"Are you sure you checked all the human cities?" He challenged.

"I am positive." He replied.

"I've been to Dellerios, Palania, Solvengarde, even Kallios. Everywhere and anywhere humans are known to abound." He explained.

"The man I seek is not in any of the holds, or anywhere in human territory for that matter.

Volondove was as confused at this statement. He was the only other human north of the human territories. And other than the human legions and royal knights there were no humans south of the yang river either, as that was the lands of the orc warlords. But this guy couldn't be looking for him could he? After all he was just a wood worker. What was so significant about that? Surely there must have been some kind of mistake.

"Well I'm the only human up here sir." He said.

"Wait a minute, did I say human?" The stranger asked. "Oh my mind is slipping away again. I meant to say, the man I seek is a half blood. A half blood of human and elf."

A half blood? Volondove was even more confused. As if finding a human in the far north wasn't rare enough, but finding a half blood in the same territories would be like finding a needle in a hay stack.

"Well do you happen to know what this half blood of yours looks like?" Volondove asked

"nope." The elder replied almost instantly.

"I have never seen the man I seek before."

"Wait a minute." Volondove said abruptly.

"you mean to tell me you are looking for someone who is a half blood, and you don't even know what he looks like? You are looking for someone you have never met before in the most barren populated area for humans?" He asked.

"Not a human, half human. But yes that would be correct." The senior answered.

"Then how do you know when you find him?" Volondove asked.

"My stick will tell me!" The senior replied as he held out his silver walking stick.

Volondove raised his eyebrow at the statement.

"Hold on there a minute. Your stick will tell you when you find him?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yes! Absolutely!" The old man replied with a strangely excited tone as he nodded his head frantically with a crazed look on his face.

"Oh great, my funeral was just interrupted by some crazy homeless man." Volondove thought to himself in frustration. Volondove wanted this man to leave him alone. But even in his emotional vulnerability he still didn't want to offend the guy.

"Ok look mister, I dont-"

"Lamir." The elder interrupted.

"My name is Lamir, though some call me Lamir the white."

"Ok mister Lamir the white." Volondove said slightly rolling his eyes.

"There are no other humans or half humans up here except for me alright? So unless you need some wood from me, I must ask you to leave me to my wife's funeral and let me mourne for my loss in peace."

Lamir stopped talking for a moment taking the hint that volondove wanted to be left alone.

"Oh....okay then." He said. "I'll just be leaving then..." Lamir said as he waddled past volondove toward the front of the property.

As volondove reluctantly picked up the shovel again, something hit his mind again. Not about Natilda, but about that Lamir guy.

"Wait a minute. He knows there are no other humans or half humans up north. And there would be fewer and fewer people the further up north he went. So why then is he heading further up north? But then he remembered the whiteness in his eyes. He then came to the conclusion that he must be a blind man.

But then again, if he was blind, what was he doing up here in the forrest's all by himself? And so far away from society? He turned back to see Lamir walking away. He squinted his eyes as he observed his walking pattern. He wasn't using the walking stick he had to let him hear his way around. Nor did he have an animal or companion to guide him. How was this guy able to see where he was going?

In confusion, he continued to observe Lamir who was still in his front yard. But instead of walking into the wood line like he expected him to, he watched as Lamir turned the corner and walked right through his front door.

"What in the name of the four is that man doing?" He muttered to himself.

Volondove dropped the shovel and began heading over to the front of his house. He made sure to crouch under the windows as he past by so that Lamir wouldn't see him coming. As he turned the corner to the front porch, he saw the front door wide open.

"Who does this man think he is? Walking into my house as if he owns the place?" He muttered under his breath in frustration.

He quietly walked onto the porch, trying his best not to make too many creeks in the floor boards. When he reached the front door he peaked his head inside, and looked around the area. He looked into the kitchen, and saw nothing. He turned his head to look inside the bed room.

His heart soon filled with a sudden burst of rage as he saw Lamir looking at his wife. She was still in the bed where she died. But Lamir was doing something to her with the staff he had, though it looked like he was just waving his walking stick over her head, he couldn't tell what exactly he was doing.

But what ever he was doing, Volondove didn't like it one bit. So he charged into the house like a blood crazed beast.

"Get your hands off my wife!" He shouted as he stormed in the room. Lamir quickly turned his head to face the now furious giant like man coming right at him. He jumped backwards like a startled house cat and slammed himself into the night stand.

Volondove grabbed the silver staff and picked up Lamir with it. He tried to break Lamir's grip on the thing. But Lamir had a very tight grip for someone of his age. As the two men tried to take the staff from each other, Volondove was whipping the old man around the house easily as if he were a rag doll as Lamir had little to no meat on his body, meaning he was rather light and easy to throw around.

When Lamir finally lost his grip on his walking stick, his skinny, light body was sent flying across the house. Lamir had slammed into the table in the dinning room against his back. Fortunately for him, the impact didn't hurt him too bad. But the table had been split in half from the impact. The now blood crazed Volondove was now after him, this time armed with a blunt instrument in his hands.

But Lamir's fear was soon replaced with what one would describe as amazement as Volondove got closer and closer. Volondove slowed down as he saw the expression in his old white eyes. "What could he be so amazed at?" Volondove thought.

"What are you doing to that?!" Lamir said as he pointed to the staff. In response, Volondove looked up at the weapon as he was holding it over his head. He dropped it suddenly with a gasp as he was startled at what was happening. The staff was glowing a bright white when he held it, and then stopped right as he dropped it.

Lamir scrambled across the floor like a young goblin to grab the staff back, and looked back up at Volondove in disbelief.

"It...it can't be.... Can it?" He muttered as he waved the staff in Volondove's face. Lamir was amazed as the staff glew brighter and brighter as it got closer and closer to Volondove while Volondove was agitated at having some crazy man who just interrupted his funeral and broke into his house and do who knows what to his dead wife wave a stick in front of his face like a child with a new toy.

Suddenly, Lamir began spontaneously rejoicing in excitement.

"It is! It is him! I have finally found the one!" Volondove's aggression was quickly shoved away and was replaced with sudden confusion.

"What is going on here?" He asked.

"What's with the staff? Why is it glowing? Who have you found? What is happening?!"

Lamir turned back to Volondove in excitement.

"My boy, it is you!" Lamir replied grabbing both his shoulders.

"You have been chosen to be the next great Eam!"

Volondove was still under a lot of emotional stress having just lost the love of his life and all that. But what this man said pirked his interest quite suddenly. Him, a wood worker, the legendary Eam? How could this stranger know? He pondered the statement for a brief moment before he could speak again.

"That is impossible." Volondove protested suddenly.

"The Eam was slain centuries ago." He explained. Lamir, having just been slammed into a table, rose back up to his feet with a bit of a stumble.

"My my," he said. "for someone who has studied so much about the fields of magic, you know nothing of the history behind it do you?" He asked rhetorically.

"My boy, the old eam is dead but his powers live on." He explained.

"Nearly a thousand years ago, when the Eam was first struck down by the demon master back on the Calnan isles, his chosen weapon, the ancient elder staff was destroyed as well. But knowing that the demons would some day return, he made the decision to divide his mortal power among the shards of the elder staff. He then gave each piece of that staff to five of his closest friends and allies to safe guard the shards in his absence. But before he did, he prophesied that one day, a new mortal will rise. A mortal with the blood of the tistive would reclaim the Eam's power in all it's glory. And when that time comes, the five staff bearers were given the task of returning the shards to that hero, there by restoring the elder staff to it's former glory. And they were given the task of training up the new eam in the ways of the magics just like the first Eam."

"So, this new eam is gonna be the incarnation of the first eam?" Volondove asked.

"I'm not entirely sure." Lamir replied with a bit of a confused look on his face.

"but I do know that the new Eam would only be able receive a fraction of the first eam's full power." Lamir explained

"What do you mean a fraction of his power?" Volondove asked.

"You see, the demons wouldn't go back into hell willingly, they had to be forced back. And it was only by sacrificing his immortal soul that the Eam was able to cast them back into the fiery cesspool of hell. And to make sure that they would stay there for some time, his immortality was also sacrificed so that the gap between the spirit world and ours would be sealed off, there by keeping the demons locked in the infernal wastelands of the underworld."

"But as time passes, his soul continues to be stretched across oblivion, and with it, the very barrier that protects our plain of existence from this infernal threat. It is only a matter of time before the barrier becomes too thin to hold the growing demon hoards back. Only then, can the demons be able to return to the mortal world and once again attempt to destroy it."

"And that is where you come in young Volondove." He said confidently.

"I do believe that Vexellion, the first Eam, has chosen you to be his successor as the new divine champion of Lamenreal."

Volondove was speechless. His mind was practically being blown away at the thought of becoming the next eam. But something Lamir said had caught his mind. The part about the new Eam having the blood of the long dead tistive race.

"And you think that I am a tistive?" He asked.

"I never said that." Lamir replied.

"But you said that the new Eam would have the blood of the tistive flowing through his veins."

"Yes I did." Lamir assured.

"But I am clearly not a tistive." Volondove retorted.

"You can clearly see that I am a human."

"Not quite." Lamir said. "I said I was looking for a half blood who would be the new eam. So while you are indeed a human, you do have the blood of the tistive inside you."

"But how is that possible?" Volondove asked. My father was a human."

"And what of your mother?" Lamir asked with a grin stretching across his face.

"I never knew my mother." Volondove said.

"She left me when I was just a babe. I dought she is even still alive anymore."

"Well you wanna know how you have tistive blood?" Lamir asked.

"I'll give you a hint. She is the tistive."

Volondove wasn't sure what to think of this. Sure the fact of haveing the tistive in his family tree was a pretty cool thought, but that couldn't be correct. He was told from his father that she was human. Not only that but the tistive were thought to be extinct ever since the first demon invasion over a thousand years ago. How could she have been around then If she was a tistive? Sure the Tistive have similar life spans of that of the elves, but even then not even an elf can live for more than a thousand years.

"How exactly do you know about my mother?" Volondove challenged.

"I don't." Lamir replied.

"But if your father was human, then your mother must have been a tistive."

"But that doesn't make any sence." Volondove said.

"The tistive are extinct. How can they be alive and dead at the same time?"

"Well I don't have the answers to everything boy. But I do know that you are indeed the last of tistive blood in all of Lamenreal. Think about it. How else would you have been able to understand the tistive language so easily?"

"How did you know about that?" Volondove asked surprised that he knew of his hobbies.

"That tomb stone you made out there is written in the tongue of the tistive. And with proper grammer too, bonus points for that by the way. And second because there are no other tistive around to teach you the language themselves you would have had to have picked it up from their ruins. Probably a book of some kind."

"But the tistive are a very confusing race to understand, even when they were still alive. So the fact that you can grasp their old concepts even the slightest bit means that you have to have some of that blood line in you somewhere."

Volondove took a minute to absorb what Lamir had said. Although It was creepy that Lamir was able to read him like a book, his logic and reasons checked out completely.

"Ok so let's say that I am a half blood. So what?" He challenged.

"So a stick glows when it comes next to me, so what? There are plenty of magical items in the world that glow when come in contact with. How is this any different?" He said.

"Sooooo that means you are the chosen one." Lamir boldly answered.

"The tistive may have been the masters of magic, but only the Eam himself is able to ignite the magic of the elder staff. So it should stand to reason that the hier of the eam with a fraction of his powers would be able to perform the same thing to a fraction of the elder staff."

"Wait..." Volondove said.

"Are you saying that this, walking stick of yours, is a piece of the elder staff?" He asked.

"That would be correct." Lamir replied giving a little smile.

"But you said those were distributed to the Eam's chosen giardians. if that is true, then that would mean..." He said stroking his chin.

"You must be one of the staff bearers!" Volondove said with sudden realization.

dramatically, Lamir then removed his old ragged tunic to reveal his true identity. Long silver robes lit up the room as they glittered in the sunlight. His pale white eyes glimmered in the sun light as his entire body took on the impression of a man made of refined silver.

Reality hit the young volondove like a grind stone to the chest when Lamir did this. He had thought that the staff bearers s were just a myth. But here he is, one of the five in the flesh. standing here face to face.

"Lamir the white, at your service my Eam." He said as he gave a little bow. His silver robes still glistering and shining in the sun light as it showed through the window.

Volondove grew even more excited. Not because there was a staff bearer in his house, but because he had learned about the staff bearers in his studies. And he knew that Lamir in particular was a healer. No, the master healer. He had inherited the eam's capabilities to healing magics and Sence of compassion. This man had healing magics the likes of this generation had never seen before. He thought that if his healing powers were true as the books say they were, than maybe, just maybe he might bring Natilda back to life for him.

but Lamir could see the anticipation in his eyes. He knew exactly what Volondove was thinking at the moment. Although he didn't want to break his hopes so soon, seeing that he had been mourning the death of his wife just a few moments ago. the fate of the world would be in his hands nevertheless. "But he has to know the truth" Lamir thought. Lamir took a deep breath, and put his hand on volondove shoulder.

"Volondove Caladian," he began.

"You wouldn't happen to know how the demons were originally made do you?''

"no, why do you ask?" Volondove replied almost instantly.

"Well, you see, there is another one of the five staff bearers who once looked into the origins of the demons." He explained.

"Nethiel the black we call him. And he is considered to be the master of all necromantic powers, as he inherited the eam's ability to manipulate life forces, even after death."

Volondove listened to him hastily, only thinking of getting his wife back. Lamir continued.

"You see, the demons have all been mortals once. As Nethiel had discovered, the demon master, a rouge spirit, not only found a way to escape the confines of the underworld, but it had also found a way to lead other fallen mortals out of the underworld, where he can then go through what Nethiel called it, the transmute process. The ritual that would split each and every lost soul into the right and wrong they had done in their lives. Nethiel then concluded that the incarnation of the evil they had committed would transform into a new creature. Vile demons of various shapes and sizes. Imps, succumbi, icumbi, wraiths, hell hounds, satyr, even the fearsome lamari."

"Volondove was just staring into lamir's eyes intently, waiting for him to finish rambling so he could get to resurrecting his wife.

"Don't you understand boy?" Lamir asked, testing to see if Volondove was really listening.

"The process begins right after death. Right. after. death." He repeated as he leaned his head to face Natilda as she lay in her wooden sarcophagus.

Volondove's heart began to sink slowly into his stomach as he caught on to what Lamir was getting at.

"So She... You mean she... no she can't be... Are you positive that she..." He stamered in nieve disbelief.

"I am afraid... That it is in fact, too late for her. She has become one of them."

"But there is still hope isn't there?" Volondove asked naively refusing the reality.

"I mean, only some souls are transformed right? Then there is still a chance to save her still, right? There is a chance that she hasn't been turned into one of them, right?" Lamir became saddened himself at the situation Volondove was in. Guilt filled his heart as he was the one to break the news to him.

"Boy, I have performed many miracles in my day. Healed many grievous and fatal wounds. But the act of resurrection is timed thing. If she was gone for more than a half hour... I am afraid her soul is too far gone to be brought back into her body."

Volondove turned to face her old bed that she lay. "No...it can't be... There has to be a way...there has to! I promised to cure her. I swore I would protected with my life! I can't lose her! Not now! I just can't!" Volondove said to himself out of naive desperation.

"I'm terribly sorry volondove, but it is too late for her." Lamir said sadly. Volondove continued to argue with reality by himself as his sobs picked back up again for a moment.

"Volondove." Lamir said putting his hand on his back in support as volondove's sobbing died down.

"I understand your frustrations. Believe me, I have lost nearly all my loved ones to the demon hoards. But as much as I value respecting the dead, and how much I understand your situation, we can't let this tragic loss blind us from our task at hand. The fate of the whole world is resting on your shoulders."

Volondove looked back at the shiny white wizard.

"The task at hand?" He asked.

"How can I save the world when I can't even save my own wife!?" He said through his tears.

"I agree it is a heavy burden for you to take up such a big responsibility at this time. And believe me if there was another way, or another one of you heritage to stop the demons I would do it in a heart beat. But the spirit of vexellion has spoken. You are the only one in all of Lamenreal with the strength and power to face this threat. If you won't do it. Than the whole world will be lost to the demons as well."

"You may think losing one person is emotionally challenging for you, but millions of innocent men, women and children will be relying on you to save them as well. And you are the only one who can save them. And I mean this as positively as possible, Please don't be discouraged over the loss of one. Not even the first eam could save everyone from the demons. But you can still save millions of others form an unspeakable fate before it is too late."

Volondove could hear the words of Lamir. But was in too much distress to reply, let alone move. He just stood there overtop his wife's coffin mourning her death. Lamir gave a sigh having just shattered Volondove's heart.

"I'll give you some space for now Volondove." He said.

"But I urge you to think over what you have been told. I won't be far if you choose to join us. I will return tomorrow to talk again. And be sure to get some rest boy."

With that, Lamir left the house slowly shutting the front door. Volondove turned back to see that Lamir had left. But he also noticed that the old man left his walking stick leaning up against the wall next to the front door.

Volondove just sat there next to his bed staring at the relic. He thought about what Lamir had told him about saving the world And taking the place of the ancient demigod.

In just a moment his heart filled with determination as he had made his decision.

Lamir stood on the front porch, looking out to the front yard. He wondered where he would go until Volondove made up his mind. He shambled down the old raggedy stairs to the cold hard earth below. He then turned the corner and started to head west.

But before he could get far, a flash of light blinked from behind. He turned around to see the small house again. Volondove was now standing on the front porch with the staff piece in hand. He had tapped himself in the head to trigger the magic inside the staff to create a large blare of light to get lamir's attention.

"The demons took the love of my life from me." He said as the light died down.

"If I can't get her back, then she will be avenged. I will smite each and every demon hell can throw at me if it's the last thing I do. It is what she would have wanted."

Lamir turned around with a smile stretching across his wrinkled face.

"I'm glad to hear that you have made up your mind so soon." He said.

"There is much to do before the demons come. So we best start your training soon. I'll give you some time to say your last goodbyes and bury her. I'll be back tomorrow.

as the sun began to set on the northern Forrest's Lamir turned around and headed off on his own back to his place, wherever that would be.