The dawn light broke over the verdant forests of Eagleland, casting shadows on the path in front of Rasheed as he pressed onward toward the Solid Light Temple. His black form melded into the shade fluidly, thus he was able to remain unseen by the wildlife. Dio and Tracy followed at his heels, engaging in light conversation to past the time. The two had established a simple trust between each other; a sisterhood of sorts. It made Rasheed want to puke.
Between walking and talking, Tracy and Dio admired the greenery of the forest with each step. The closer they came to the temple, the more lush the foliage became. It was as though the temple commanded nature itself, instructing life to grow where there was none. Tracy pondered these things as she walked, listening to the sound of her own footsteps during a pause in the conversation. Using that to her advantage, she slowed her pace and turned to the green ghost beside her.
"Dio," She began, "If you came from Hell, then how did you die?"
A few paces ahead, Rasheed whirled around in place. Were either of the women to have been looking, they would have noticed his pupils had dilated quickly, such a thing only possible from instant and intense fear. Gnashing his teeth together anxiously, Rasheed's heart skipped several beats as he hovered back and forth, waiting to hear Dio's response.
Dio bit her lip, caught off guard. She thought back to that terrible day - So many unanswered questions, and lingering thoughts. How could she explained what had happened to Tracy when she didn't know herself? How could she explain to an outsider, who had not been there to feel the pain of the final moments? It would be impossible to convey the raw emotion surrounded with demise, yet despite all this, Dio decided to answer.
Her speech was disjointed at first, as though she did not understand what she was saying. Like a caged animal, her eyes flickered back and forth rapidly, searching for inner demons that were not there.
"It was a long time ago - strange, then, that I remember it so well. I still dream about it, sometimes. More than sometimes; almost every night, it happens over and over again in my mind, calling me from beyond the grave. The dream is trying to tell me something, but I don't know what. There's a message, a clue, that I keep missing. I don't understand what happened that day, but I do know that something went wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong."
"Back then, there were no countries, only clans. Small bands of people, united only for survival. There was no such thing as national pride back then. Everyone lived for themselves, only forming an alliance when it made life easier."
"Rasheed and I belonged to a clan of Scarabian Mystics who studied the hieroglyphs and the spells of the pyramids. it was our job to safeguard the knowledge of the ancient races, but we abused it, and took it for our own. Our magic grew just as we did, and soon we became the most powerful clan in the world, capable of summoning and controlling the elements themselves."
"I was one of the clan's main spellcasters, and Rasheed was my partner. Determined to gain even more power, one night I prepared a spell to call upon the power of the pyramids to augment our magical capacity, to make us demons of epic proportion. But was not to be. Just before the spell was completed, something happened - It backfired, killing both Rasheed and myself in an explosion of arcane magic. I didn't know what triggered the collapse of the spell then, and I still don't know now. The dreams keep trying to show me something, but I miss it every night. Every night, a clue evades my grasp, determined to taunt me for all of eternity."
The raw emotion that had overtaken Dio stunned Tracy, rendering her incapable of speech. The green ghost's words echoed in her head, casting dark images around every corner of her mind. As though running away from death itself, Dio had run up close to Rasheed, perhaps for comfort or protection. Tracy raced up to join the two, only to find that they had reached the temple gates.
The temple was made from large white stones, stained grey and brown from millennia of aging. Vines crept up the walls, twisting and turning to form an entire layer of plant life around the temple. The building underneath was a single, circular room, with a ceiling that slanted upward to an opening in the center. Long ago, a pillar of solid light had formed the very core of this temple, but it had been destroyed in battles past. In order to save the power of light, the pillar's energy had dispersed into the walls of the temple itself, creating a living Mecca of light energy.
Rasheed stood at the temple's doors moments later, drinking up the power around him. Licking his lips, he grinned appraisingly. The energy made him feel so...alive. He had not felt like this since his death, so many years ago. It was refreshing, to feel the blood pumping once more through his veins, stirred by the power of life.
Tracy and Dio reached the temple shortly thereafter, short of breath from running the final leg. The two gazed in awe at the temple's wonder, feeling the ancient power penetrate them to the core.
"It's beautiful," Tracy whispered, her mission all but forgotten. Dio nodded in silence. The holy power of the light swirled around her like a soft wind, guiding her and Tracy in through the temple's doors.
Once inside, the trio got a good look around the room. Aside from the stained glass windows on the walls, the only object worth noting was a flat boulder in the middle of the room. A beam of light descended from the hole in the roof to a point in front of the boulder, guiding the way.
"Tracy, stand on top of the boulder," Rasheed commanded, floating to the center of the room. Still soaking in the power of the light, Tracy nodded wordlessly and did as she was told. She climbed atop the boulder and stood still, feeling the warmth of the sunbeam on the back of her neck. Once she was comfortable, Tracy looked at Rasheed for further direction. Rasheed hovered around the boulder, eyeing her positioning critically. It was apparent that in order for the magic to work, everything had to be just right.
Once he was sure that Tracy's positioning was perfect, Rasheed stepped back from the boulder and into the beam of light. Dio hovered to his side, and pressed her back against his own. Like two sides of a mirror, they stood back to back, neither moving an inch.
"Now Tracy," Rasheed called, "The time for our rebirth is at hand. Soon you will have the ultimate power that we promised. But in order to have this power, you must summon the power of the Light and return our mortal forms. To revive us, all you need to do is concentrate on the power of the Light. Remember, the Light is your strength."
"The light is my strength," She echoed, staring off into space. Despite the philosophical power of the words, they somehow did not seem to be enough. Tracy could feel no emotion, no driving force; the Light would not respond to her commands.
Standing in his spot, Rasheed clicked his tail against the ground impatiently. Intervening once the pause because obvious, he looked at Tracy with an irritated expression on his face.
"Tracy, is something wrong? Because, you know, we are running on a bit of a schedule..." He finished, tapering off at the end for the proper effect. Tracy gulped, getting the picture. She closed her eyes tightly, shutting out all thoughts of the impatient Rasheed. Searching through her mind desperately, Tracy began looking for a source of power.
It was then that she saw the face. Her brother Ness, laughing at her from the dark recesses of her mind. Look at you, he seemed to say. Your power is worthless, nonexistent. I have complete control of the light, yet you fail to even summon it. You're nothing, and you always have been! Your entire life! Mom knows it, Dad knows it - Hell, even King knows it! You're a failure!
"No!" Tracy screamed, cutting through the silence. Rasheed looked up sharply, startled by the cry. "I'm not a failure! I'm stronger than you, Ness, and I'll prove it!"
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she saw Ness in Fourside, sitting with his friends, plotting her demise. Named crossed her mind in waves; Venus, Raltise, Talus, Luna, Teddy, Paula - All of them were sitting around, trying to kill her! But how could they kill her if she killed them first?
Shutting her eyes roughly, Tracy concentrated on her brother's face and his taunting words. She balled up her hands angrily, seething. I'll show you, if it's the last thing I do!
Already she could feel herself being imbued with the temple's power, filling her and making her whole. The temple was taking over her body, using her as merely a vessel for its ultimate power.
Raising her eyes toward the ceiling, Tracy slowly chanted a string of words that she could not understand. Her chants filled the room, awakening the dormant power of the light.
A warm wind blew through the room, enveloping the twin ghosts in the shaft of light. Both could feel the effects of their transformation, yet neither would open their eyes to see the result. For were the spell to have failed, the disappointment would be too great.
It was only when the chanting stopped that the ghosts opened their eyes; Rasheed first, and Dio second. After a brief pause, Dio let out an exhilarated cry.
"We did it!" She yelled, turning around to face her partner. Dio was clothed in a Scarabian harem ensemble colored a green identical to her hair, which flowed around her waist once more. She beamed at Rasheed through a gauzy green veil, noting that his former body had also returned. He was dressed in the simple black robes of a necromancer, tied at the waist with a strand of fraying rope. His black eyes flickered oddly in rhythm with the light on the robes, creating the same shadow effect that had marked him as a ghost.
"Oh, isn't this fantastic?" Dio cried, moving her limbs one at a time. One by one she twitched her fingers, checking to make sure they worked. She eyed her palms with a childlike fascination, amazed at the transformation. "We're alive! We escaped Hell! Rasheed, we've won!" A slight pull on her arm stopped her midspeech, and she looked down to see Tracy standing stiffly at her side.
"Tracy, what's wrong?" Dio asked, combing her hand through her hair. Never again would she feel the cobwebs of the underworld collecting in her gorgeous locks, she thought triumphantly.
"While I was chanting, I sensed another group. My brother Ness is in Fourside with others; The names Venus, Luna, Paula, Talus, Teddy, and Raltise have come to me. They're plotting my demise, and they know about your plans!"
Dio's eyes snapped open wide. Raltise was out of Hell? If he was, who knows what kind of knowledge he could have brought with him to the overworld?
"Rasheed, what do we do? Raltise is out, and he knows what we're up to! This could ruin everything!"
Rasheed's face was impassive. Closing his eyes, he responded with a single command.
"Dio, summon the horsemen."
Dio's bronze face turned a sickly shade of gray. "But Rasheed," She stuttered, "Must we begin with such a drastic approach? Couldn't we just use some Infernals, or maybe just a Doom Guard?"
"Summon the horsemen," He repeated coldly. His voice chilled Dio to the bone, and something in his eyes informer her that disobeying would entail much more pain than she could handle. Letting out a deep sigh, Dio nodded slowly.
"If you insist," She replied, her tone defeated. So saying, Dio crossed her arms over her chest and began the spell, chanting in a sonorous voice.
"Hear me, Horsemen of the Apocalypse! I summon thee from the depths of Hell in order to undertake the task of aiding those in need, those who will in turn aid the cause of the underworld. Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death, I summon thee!"
With a bloodcurdling scream, a fiery portal to the underworld opened in the center of the temple, devouring the lone boulder at its core. Flames shot from all sides, the tongs licking the air violently. The stench of sulfur filled the room as the Horsemen of the Apocalypse entered the room, all of the powers of the dead in tow.
Lowering her arms and opening her eyes, Dio stepped forward to admire her handiwork. The riders showed clear strength, and would strike terror into the hearts of all they laid eyes on, but something was missing. What was wrong?
"You called?" A chilling, sardonic voice interrupted Dio in the middle of her thoughts. She looked up to see the Horsemen stepping forward, each eager to respond to the summons.
The first of the riders to present himself was mounted on a glistening white horse, its hair and mane the color of fresh snow. Its master was a tall, sickly man who seemed unable to support his own weight, much less command the powers of the underworld. Deep blue eyes, the color of a bottomless ocean, marked his ashen face prominently, yet they were overshadowed by the broken and crooked teeth which lined his twisted grin. A small bug was wedged in his bottom teeth, which he paused to pick out with a bony finger. The skin of his hand was now exposed, revealing countless lesions and pockmarks.
The rider worked at the bug in his teeth ceaselessly, halted only when the finger snapped away from the knuckle and fell to the floor. It landed with a dull thud, leaking several drops of blood onto the stone tile. Shaking his head irritably, the horseman put his hand back on the reigns of his horse, allowing the sleeve of his tattered white suit to envelope the fresh wound. In his remaining hand, he held a thick metal bow, dulled with age and use. Rust had formed around the weapon over time, giving it a coppery sheen.
"Pestilence, reporting for duty," The rider stated. His voice was harsh, all of his words laced with dry cynicism. Dio nodded, allowing him to step back. Pestilence nodded to the rider at his side, indicating the order of inspection.
The man who now strode forward was a much larger, stronger man. Trails of blood trickled across his bare skin in spiderlike veins, winding down from the top of his skull to the base of his feet. Muscles rippled in every possible location, shielded only by studded leather armor. The same armor decorated his horse, colored with hair reminiscent of dried blood. The rider's hair was a similar color, but it had a brightness which was more comparable to fire than to the blood of his animal companion. His head was covered by a war helmet, which revealed nothing above his beady blue eyes. In his gigantic hand was a mammoth sword, his name carved into the blade in a delicate pattern.
"War, reporting for duty." War's voice was much deeper than his comrade's; it commanded immediate authority with the simplest of statements. Again Dio nodded, signifying approval.
Rasheed squinted, eyeing the men. He could not believe it, in a million years. Of all the things that could happen....A sneer curled on his lips as he turned to Dio.
"What's the matter, Rasheed?" Dio laughed, "Not impressed?"
Rasheed clicked his foot against the ground softly. His patience was quickly waning, and it was taking every ounce of his strength to contain his temper. The words in his reply were clipped; each with more volume than the last.
"There are only two, Dio. There are four horsemen in total. That's why they're called the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - Because there are supposed to be four!"
Dio's mouth opened in surprise. She stared back from Pestilence to War, who in turn looked back at each other. The tapping of Rasheed's boot grew louder and louder until he snarled violently at the two horsemen, catching them off guard.
"Where the Hell are Famine and Death??"
----
A cloud of smoke casually wafted into the chilling morning air, dissipating with the piercing winds. The breeze cried mournfully across the ice-strewn streets. The snow continued to fall gently, caressing the rooftop of the Fourside Museum. The sharp striking of a hoof upon the pavement was all that echoed across the empty thoroughfare, for the habitually populated downtown section was uncharacteristically devoid of life. A nightmarish horse, one the color of the blackest night, turned toward the museum, obeying the reigns of his master.
The rider cut a lean, unhealthy figure. His features were gaunt and elongated, as if he was malnourished. A vast black cloak shrouded his sickly body, the hood drawn over his head. A pale hand tapped the butt of a cigarette against the horse's saddle, sending ash fluttering down into the base of a set of scales secured to the horse's side. The figure brought the cigarette to his thin, white lips once again, taking a drag, savoring the flavor momentarily before releasing it through his nostrils. He stroked the stubble of his chin thoughtfully with the other hand, before extending the cigarette toward another man on horseback.
"You sure you don't want a smoke?" The man inquired shrilly, his sharp voice seeming to fade with the winds. A wry grin pursed his disgusting mouth.
His companion, a fellow rider, stroked the mane of his own horse, a pale, almost ethereal shade. The horse foamed at the lips, its eyes dilated furiously. The figure withdrew his hand...his elongated, skeletal hand...back into the recesses of his own cloak. Under his hood was naught but shadow; a steady breathing bit through the air, the breath freezing upon the chill air. His head was arched downward, as if the figure was in thought.
The man on the black horse paused, as if listening intently, and then he withdrew his hood, revealing two small, piercing, white pupils. He smiled cruelly and tossed the butt of the cigarette away. "Yeah, I know we've been summoned. But this city's become like a second home to me. You too. So much senseless killing, so many people going hungry each day...sad, isn't it? Yes, a real shame." Famine let out a gruesome laugh.
Death paused momentarily before turning his attention to the edifice of the Museum. He pointed a bony finger in its direction. Famine frowned, looking quickly in the direction he pointed. A small man, appearing to be in his fifties, stumbled down the steps. He possessed a flowing white mumu which covered his immense bulk, a five o'clock shadow, and thick orange hair. Mr. Spoon, the curator of the Fourside Museum, was going home after a long night of study. He checked his wristwatch, shivering in the cold, and then as he reached the end of the paved walkway leading to the street, he paused. His eyes traveled upward to the two men on horseback. His jaw dropped.
Famine grinned, cracking his neck. "I'll take care of this one, if you don't mind. I'll deliver him to you soon enough." His left hand traveled down to the scales, unclasping them from their hook on the saddle and holding them evenly from their tip. The two scales balanced precariously, tilting this way and that, before equalizing at last. With his free hand, Famine placed weight on one scale sharply, then let go. The scales, unbalanced, tilted in disarray. An unearthly black aura wafted out from the device, the tendrils of energy surrounding Mr. Spoon and passing through him.
The overweight man doubled over in pain, gasping for a taste of the bitter frost. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, as his form slowly withered, his enormous belly shrinking in size, his cheeks caving in. His chubby fingers became like brittle flesh plastered on bone, and his clothes drooped around him. His form became a literal skeleton; his eyes shrunk and drooped in their sockets, dilating furiously, his thick red hair falling out about his shoulders. With one final, labored gasp, the light in the formerly plump man's eyes died, and his movement ceased. Famine replaced the scales on the saddle, and motioned Death to the body.
"A gift for you, fellow horseman." Death did not take much interest. His focus, instead, was drawn to a nearby apartment building that rose into the skyline. He raised his bony hand once again in the direction of this building. Famine frowned.
"Yes, I know. That's where we need to go. That's where Raltise is." Death's breath danced upon the winds. Famine quirked an eyebrow. "Yes, I know he was once a fellow demon, but he is an inconvenience now. Our summoners want him out of the way, along with anyone else with him. So let's get going." The horsemen turned. The sound of hooves clomping along the deserted road filled the air as the twin horses traversed the desolate street, toward the apartment building before them.