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Many times before, there had been various… philosophers sermonizing about how the continent of Dormaunt was flailing around like a dieing fish out of water. Most of these disturbances took place in the continents northern country’s capitals, and almost all of them had been deducted by the “mad” scientist magician named Douglas Monterey IIV. Though his past preaching’s were less noticed and ended in the arrest for disturbing the peace, this one seemed to be a bit more serious. Douglas stood at the top of the grave ridden memorial hill in the west quarter of Terri Vale, the capital of Juno. He and seven of his followers arrived at the top nearly around noon and began to set up for what would be known as “The Failed Birth” in historical texts years later. Two of the followers placed a great stone tablet into place, as the other five encircled them several meters away, steadily beginning incantations in an elegant language of old. They were garbed in a white ceremonial robe and a golden mask that bore smiling faces of triumph. Their sleeves stretched to the ground and dragged as the walked to their positions, forming a perfect pentagon. The two with the tablet stepped back as Douglas shooed them away with his staff. He fell to his knees and rubbed his hand over the ancient text across the slab as softly as a mother would a child.
“Finally,” he said nearly laughing in excitement and crying in joy. “My masterpiece is finished.”
He stood and turned his back to the stone. “All these years of misery and woe will end soon! I will create him; the perfect being that will save this place!” He raised his arms to the sky and laughed triumphantly. “All you in this world who mocked my logic, cursed my beliefs, and gazed down on me like a madman, I pray for you. But you will all soon see the genius in my plan and will bow to me as if I were a god! Now, Novak, Selman, come to me. ”
The two at the stone came to his side and huddled closely. “Are you with me my children?” he asked in a whisper.
“Since I first saw your glory in Orson,” replied Novak.
“And since I heard your chorus in Torn,” replied Selman.
“Good. Now then, provide the barrier!” Instantly the five around them raised there arms and began a more complex incantation. They repeated it over and over. Ancient letters of magic formed in front of their foreheads and hands. A blue waving wall swirled up from the ground in front of them and created a sphere around the small party. They’ll be here soon, Douglas thought to himself. We must act fast. He slammed his staff into the ground before him and made a complex combination of hand gestures.
Quickly following suit, Novak and Selman mimicked the gestures and began murmuring incantations similar to the ones the five were chanting. Douglas stopped on a symbol that looked as though he was trying to break his own hand by crushing it with the other. Novak and Selman continued gesturing, causing the letters on the stone to slowly glow gold. A bright letter appeared at the tip of Douglas’s staff. The letter glowed brighter than the sun. Then, Douglas heard them. He walked past his staff to the edge of the barrier and peered down the hill. A small army of Juno’s finest were scaling the hill to stop them. It wasn’t just the local police either. It was a large chunk of the army, and it was lead by no other than Raymond, the prince of Juno. Well, one of the princes. His blue feather like blade was drawn and a blue flame encircled it like a snake. This was shocking but what made Douglas nearly faint was what strode behind the angered prince. They brought a Familiar? Douglas gulped as they continued to progress.
He turned around and shouted, “Hurry, we haven’t much time!” The two had stopped gesturing and had begun to quicken their incantation. The stone tablet began to rise off the earth as more of the symbols began to glow.
“Douglas Monterey IIV,” boomed a voice from behind Douglas. He turned to see that the Prince, the Familiar, and the Prince’s general, Minotaur Orin, had sprinted ahead. “With the power invested in me, you are under arrest for defying previous arrest, trespassing, disturbance of the peace, theft from the Grand Museum of Juno, and for the breaking of multiple Magewrite Laws against summoning magic.”
Douglas took a deep breath as the rest of the army became visible. Orin brandished a crude battle axe, two horns (technically one and a half; one half had been broken off) and a metal breast plate. The Familiar, however, was a somewhat human figure with green eyes that lacked pupils. He (or she or it) wore a toga that covered little of the beings reddened flesh. It stood taller than the Minotaur and even taller than Raymond.
“Why do you wish to stop my experiment?” Douglas pleaded. “We are only trying to help this world not destroy it self. What can’t you understand?”
“I understand that by being able to break the Magewrite Law you are able to tap into magic that our best magicians and signers have never even been able to imagine. Powers like that were sealed in the Angel War for a reason and I’m not ready to let some lunatic let them loose on Juno.”
“But don’t you see?” Douglas pleaded further. “This continent is falling apart! Legnas has been over run and now enslaves Dominators from Faz Kali to give to the Rukan. Juno, if you beg my pardon good prince, has lost its southern territory and is near full retreat. Orson is losing the war, Philnax has lost some of their greatest ports, Gratiot isn’t getting involved by hiding in their forests, and Torn is in the same situation as Orson! The land is crumbling! I am here to bring a being of peace to aid us in our time of need.”
Douglas hoped he’d stalled for enough time, but he dared not look back, in fear of tipping his hand. Raymond glared at him and shouted an order. Several men dressed in magicians’ garbs stepped forward and began an incantation. “We have issued a warning, now force will be used.” “No!” Douglas clapped once and spoke three words. The earth beneath the magicians turned to quicksand and swallowed their bodies until only their heads weren’t submerged.
Raymond growled and snapped his fingers. The Familiar stepped forward. It took a deep breath and let out a deathly wale. Jets of flame burst from the tips of its fingers, his eye sockets and his mouth. Quickly it became completely enveloped in flame and didn’t resemble anything human. It dove forward and brought a fist hammering down on the barrier, then another and another. The sphere shook with every blow, but the five followers continued their chant. Douglas swirled around and grabbed his staff. The Tomb was now suspended about five yards into the air about one yard away from the perimeter of the barrier; almost all the symbols were lit. With all his might, Douglas swung the staff like a club, sending the symbol on the end hurtling into the tomb. When the two collided, a great shockwave pulsed across the city. Most of the men in the army fell back wards and began falling down the steeper parts of the hill. Even the Familiar flew back in the air a bit before returning to finish its goal. But the Minotaur and prince had survived the knock back.
Orin charged and joined the Familiar in hammering the shell. Then, one of the followers faltered and a crack scrapped across the shell. The follower fell to his knees, arms still raised, incantation still chanted. The prince began to walk forward as his two champions destroyed the mind of the pour follower. Each blow impacted the follower’s soul, causing him to grow weaker and weaker. Then, a chunk of the shell broke inward as the follower nearly collapsed. The prince saw his opening and thrust his sword foreword. The flame extended off his sword and through the shell, piercing the heart of the follower. The shell vanished and the other followers slumped foreword.
“Finish the spell!” Douglas cried to the four. “Novak, Selman, attack!” Novak and Selman stopped their incantation, causing the other four to take their place without dropping a beat. Novak made a quick symbol and bounded forward with blinding speed. His right hand turned blue and became sharper than any steel. He passed the flaming avatar and sliced once at the unprepared Minotaur, disemboweling his leg and arm. In a dieing act the general brought his axe down on his foe with his free hand, digging his axe into Novak’s back. Selman chanted a containment spell for the Familiar as it raged for him.
The being no longer resembled a human, but now that of a flaming wolf. Selman finished the spell and sent the flaming beast back to the Written Plains by sending tendrils of magic out of his fingers that wrapped around the Familiar. The figure vanished and Selman slumped forward exhausted. Raymond slipped past and decapitated Selman in one fell swoop as the mage turned to attack again. He then turned his attention to the floating tablet. Another pulse flowed down the hill. It was more violent than the last and almost took Raymond off his feet. Douglas joined the chorus of chanting followers, causing the process to quicken. Another pulse. In one last act, Raymond raised his sword high into the air and threw it. The blade spun several times then struck the stone. The last letter glowed, but the tomb broke into two pieces. Two commits of light shot in different directions from the stone. This instantly ended the life of all the followers, and nearly stole all of Douglas’s soul.
“What… have you done?” he asked falling to his frail knees. The two pieces fell to the ground. Raymond retrieved his sword and held it an inch from the wizards face.
“I’ve split you ‘great being’ in two.”


CHAPTER 1


The Written Plains is where all spells were, and are, formed and where all magic is held. Whenever a magician spoke the words that formed a spell, he would concentrate on the ‘Plains, physically forming the spell in his mind. Then he would use his soul to tear the spell it self from the ‘Plains and cast it. With Signers, however, it was a bit more complex. One needed to memorize and recite countless gestures while constructing the spell they needed. The Written Plains was also where magic was sent when it was either sealed or used up, thus allowing magic to be recycled over and over again throughout generations. This act of recycling didn’t come into effect until the Angel Wars, when magic was needed. When the system came to pass there was too much power flowing through the ‘Plains. So, the Angels simply locked the more powerful magic away into storage via the Magewrite Law. Many tried to surpass the law and unlock the powerful magic. But any who did ended up destroying themselves or faltering their spell by the raw weight of the power. The Written Plains itself resembled a golden lake that went on forever under a blank white sky. The “water” was made of all the ancient symbols that were the blue prints of magic.
At this time, even though time doesn’t technically exist in the Written Plains, a great cluster of symbols began to rise up from the water. Slowly the symbols made up a figure that looked more like a tall blob then anything. It began to move forward as the symbols began to float up in its path. Slowly the figures shape began to form. It grew legs, then arms. Then an uncharacterized head. With every step the figure began to gain characteristics that made it seem… human. Douglas Monterey IIV’s creation began to obtain its almighty body. Then the shape stopped in its place and swayed too and fro. A gentle tug began to pull it forward. It didn’t move its feet but simply leaned forward. Then, when it seemed that gravity would pull it down, a great force pulled the golden figure under the surface like a ton of bricks. Under the surface, the endless lake turned into a bottomless ocean. The “water” was clear, although golden light from the letters above made it almost as bright as the surface. As the figure sank, it noticed clusters of letters falling past him at greater speed; other spells being created and formed with greater haste than the figure.
The figure could think. That was always a good sign. But it didn’t know if its memory would be able to take in the awesome sight. It looked down and recognized a human body; his own. He could feel the wet substance flowing around him, though it wasn’t cold or warm. He could hear the bubbles part as he sank through them. Then, he stopped sinking, as though the invisible grasp had vanished. While the magic form tried to understand what was happening, causing so many explanations from his super powerful brain that he practically fainted, he felt a pain in his chest. The two feelings, the thoughts and the pain, caused his mind to race panicking. Then, the pain took over the thought and all he could do was look at his chest. A golden hand started to reach from it.
Slowly, and painfully, a second figure immerged from his chest. The pain left him along with the other figure. The two were practically identical. The others eye’s opened. The two stared into each others eyes for a brief moment. Then, the force returned, only this time both figures experienced it. They flew in different directions at great velocities. As the first zigzagged through the substance he felt multiple collisions with clusters, possibly breaking them into pieces. Some mages somewhere would be very unhappy with their now faltering spells. The figure closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he was no longer in the Written Plains. He was flying above country sides and forests and cities. He flew to fast to memorize any of the landscapes, but he knew he’d see them again. Then he flew through a forest and crashed through three trees before landing on one of the fourth’s large branches. He rolled over and clutched his stomach. The pain was only momentary though. When it resolved he shot into a sitting position and examined himself. He wore clothing now. A white long sleeved tunic, black fingerless gloves, steel arm plates around his wrists and upper arm, a black unbuttoned vest, black boots, and dark green pants.
Everything came to him at once. He knew how to speak, that much he could summarize; several languages, in fact. He flexed his fingers. Good, he thought. I have control of this body. He suddenly became alert. His own thoughts frightened him.
“Good, I have control of this body,” he repeated out loud testing his own voice. His mind was filled of the basic mechanics of life. He could breath, he thought he could eat, walk, sleep, and possibly swim. Another thing came to mind. His name was Castro. Then he suddenly knew other things that didn’t seem as basic. Letters, he thought, odd looking ones. Hand gestures. He looked at both of his hands and thought of the symbols. He made three quick hand gestures which ended with him clutching his right wrist. Above his open right hand, a red orb materialized. He looked out at a far off branch and hurled the sphere. When the two collided there was a yellow and gold explosion that drilled a hole through the branch. “I’m a Signer,” he said out loud again triumphantly.
Shouting came from bellow. Castro looked over the edge of branch he was perched on. There was a mob of what seemed to be hunters chasing a single running figure. The figure looked human enough but something told Castro otherwise. Castro wished to see what exactly was going on. He wondered how strong he was and crouched preparing a leap. Castro’s muscles tightened and he leaped once. He flew through the air with more force than he thought he could use. He landed on a branch ahead of the mob and rolled slightly. He was several hundred feet up but his vision could tell him what was going on. He recognized the fleeing figure immediately.
It was a Dominator of Faz Kali. Castro didn’t know why the thoughts came to him like memories instead of newly discovered knowledge. The tell tale evidence that this was in fact a Dominator was that he had two small curved horns that were practically hidden in the figures black hair. Castro plucked one of his own hairs and examined it. He had brown hair. Good. He liked the color brown. His focus was back on the mob. Solutions to this predicament flooded into Castro’s mind. If this truly is a Dominator then I cannot let it become physically harmed or else…From the corner of his eye he saw one of the crowd members aim a loaded cross bow. Quickly Castro made the ball of energy appear in his hand again while he cursed under his breath. He jumped from the tree and hurled the orb into the crowd. Too late. The arrow flew straight and true, even though seconds afterwards the crowd dispersed due to the orbs explosion. Castro landed nimbly at ground level, something he knew no other human could accomplish without splattering across the ground like a bug, and then turned around. The Dominator fell as an arrow punctured his leg.
Not good, not good. Castro sprinted toward the figure. There were several loud cracking noises that came from the being as it began to twitch and turn. It pulled its shirt off just in time as two demon like bat wings eroded from his shoulder blades. The horns atop its head grew slightly larger. The figure’s fingers became gaping claws and its arm and leg muscles began to bulge. Funny, Castro thought as he ran. No tail. This must be one of its first transformations. Not good. The figure roared to the sky. Its eyes became red and its legs became slightly longer. Then, and only then, the figures skin became black as night; changing colors like a spreading virus. Black spikes jutted from his shoulders and black claws from his feet. It turned to Castro who stopped. The Dominator looked past him at the mob and flapped its giant wings. One of the mob members ran past Castro screaming with a broad sword raised high. “No!” Castro tried to shout. But it was too late. The screaming man slashed at the Dominator, leaving a grievous wound across the Dominators chest. The Dominator smiled a devilish smile and grabbed the man’s chest with one of its overgrown hands. The hand tightened and there were several popping and cracking sounds as the man’s rib cage broke under the vise like grip.
The rest of the mob passed Castro. The Dominator threw the body aside like an old toy just in time to be caught in a trap net thrown by one of the mob members. The mob cheered as the Dominator tried to escape. They huddled around it and threw another net up. Nets woven from the rough skin of another Dominator, Castro thought. And there’s also some metal entwined in the strings. They’re trying to capture him! As soon as Castro knew that this was no angry mob and more of a poaching party he rushed forward taking in a deep breath. Then, with all his might, he exhaled, spewing a stream of flame from his mouth. There’s something I didn’t know I could do. The flame passed the hunters and wrapped around the net, softening its strong fabrics. The beast broke free and began to fly into the air.
“He’s getting away!” one of them shouted. “Get a rope on that thing!” Someone shot another arrow with a rope attached to it into the Dominators back. The Dominator screeched and snapped the rope with one of its foot talons, allowing it to fly free.
“Idiots,” Castro shouted. Many turned to him angrily. “The more you hurt it the longer it’ll stay like that!”
“You’re the one that helped it escape!” one shouted. “You used a flare to weaken our nets!” Castro looked up and saw the Dominator make a circle. He was going to kill all of them! Castro jumped up with great force towards a tree, and then kicked off the tree causing him to rebound. Castro and the Dominator collided, both crashing into another tree. The beast slashed at him, but he jumped away to evade the attack. Castro jumped up more branches, the Dominator flying just as high and quick. They were very high up now; somewhere in the under story bellow the canopy of the forest. The Dominator glared at Castro and stood up straight on the branch Castro stood on, showing that he was a good three feet taller then Castro. The mob bellow scattered in fear that the Dominator would rip them apart. This was exactly what the Dominator was planning on doing; if not for the minor irritation that stood before him. Castro swallowed hard and made a quick gesture. The beast lunged forward but was thwarted by a puff of smoke.
Two body doubles of Castro leapt from the cloud. One ran up the trunk of the tree while the other jumped backwards across the branch, landing behind the enraged Dominator. As the smoke parted the beast was taken aback when he saw the puny human holding the out stretched clawed hand between the fingers. Suddenly, the double across the branch made three familiar gestures. Before the beast knew what was happening, an explosive orb sent him off the branch. The double that’d climbed up the tree jumped from the canopy at dive bomb speeds. It made one simple gesture and spoke a word. The double’s hands turned green as it fell. The real Castro and his double on the branch leapt in unison toward the Dominator who was quickly regaining control in the air. The two fell faster then the dive bomber above. The Dominator flapped its wings and stabilized itself with enough time to slash Castro’s double that was flying toward him. The figure poofed away into a cloud that resembled the one that created it. The real Castro grabbed the creature’s free arm and threw the Dominator of balance in the air again, increasing the speed of their decent.
As the beast yelled, Castro dangled with one arm and made a symbol with his free hand. His hand turned green, just like his double who was now almost on top of them. Castro grabbed the arrow in the beasts back and pulled it free. As the beast screamed in pain, the green magic left Castro’s hand and began to heal the wound. The Dominator raised its hand up, preparing to kill the now dangling Castro, right as the second double fell onto it. The double placed both its hands on the beast chest as the green magic began to heal the sword wound across his chest. The weight of the two bodies was too great and the Dominator’s descent became a dead fall. As the chest wound healed, the beast brought down his arm again, slashing the double in half. The double poofed like his brother. Only one more, Castro assumed the Dominator was thinking. The chest and back were now fully healed. One more wound left… The Dominator suddenly flapped his wings powerfully, causing Castro to lose his grip and fall. They were much closer to the ground now then they’d been before. Castro skidded across the forest floor as he tried to roll to his feet. The beast landed three meters from him snarling and ready to sore again.
The beast was taking in a deep breath. Great…fire. It knows how to breathe fire… Castro leaned forward and sprinted at the beast. The Dominator blew a stream of flame towards Castro, nearly identical to his own. Castro dove out of the way and grabbed the last arrow on the beast’s leg. In a somersaulting motion, Castro removed the arrow and crouched a few feet away from the Dominator. He lacked concentration, so his healing spell hadn’t affected the wound. But Castro knew he didn’t need it. All Dominators’ wounds healed at great rates as long as the Dominator stayed in this demon like form. Sure enough, Castro watched the wound healed far faster than any human’s. When it was fully heal, the Dominator began to twitch again.
The process the beast had gone through before now went in reverse as it changed back to its other human form. During this time, Castro retrieved the Dominator’s shirt and tossed it near him. When the figure stopped it’s spasms it sat up and breathed deeply. It wore the symbolic tattoos of a slave. Like all Dominators, its skin was pale, even after transformations, and its hair was black. Its pupils were red but much less feral and its pants were short and torn from the previously bulging muscles that had recently occupied them. The figure grabbed his black tunic and pulled it over his head. He didn’t have shoes and didn’t need them; they only got in the way during transformations. The figure opened his mouth to speak when from behind Castro came angry murmurs.
Castro turned to see the poachers, weapons drawn. “Step aside,” one said stepping forward. “You’re human, we don’t need you.” Castro stood his ground and didn’t reply. “I said—”
“I heard you, worm.” Castro said accusingly.
“Watch your tongue!” the crossbowman shouted. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
“Of course I do. You’re just a mob of hunters trying to get another catch for Rukan. In someone else’s country, I might add.” The bowman flushed red with frustration.
“I meant that animal you have behind you! He’s a slave that recently escaped and we’re here to take him back.”
“Well that’s too bad.” Castro said matter-of-factly.
“Why protect that…thing?” the leader asked with disgust.
“I don’t know,” said Castro confidently. Honestly, he didn’t. Something in his mind told him it was wrong to poach, but they weren’t thoughts he put there.
“Be reasonable,” the leader said, now trying to goad Castro with sympathy. “We have families that we must feed. We owe a lot of money and the only way is if we—”
“Liar,” Castro interrupted bluntly, “I doubt you’re even married. But if you want reason, here’s an idea. If you don’t leave and go back to your ‘families’ within the next ten seconds, I’ll spit flame all over you like a Dominator.”
This, above all, made the hunters laugh, or at least chuckle. Castro began to count down from ten in his head. He could count, he then realized.
“Spit fire on us? Where are you from, the circus?” The crowd laughed some more. Seven, six five, “An-And let me guess…then you’re going to juggle something right?” Four, three, “Or walk on a tight rope?” Two… Castro took a deep breath. The hunters at the back of the line stopped laughing and began to walk backwards. The first one continued his rant. “And then you’ll put a clown outfit on and do a little dance for us? Come on you’re not—” Castro breathed a jet of flame that engulfed the leader and charred several of the front hunters. The rest fled like prey instead of predators.
“You know,” said the Dominator behind Castro, “you didn’t have to set him on fire.”
“I thought he deserved it,” Castro said turning around. “It seemed…appropriate.” The Dominator was now standing, though he didn’t look like he’d slept, eat, or drank for several days.
“You look horrendous,” Castro said testing the brinks of his vocabulary.
“I’m fine,” the Dominator replied staggering a little. “But a little food never hurt anyone. My name’s Yon Shua, by the way.”
“Castro.”
They shook hands, though it seemed as though Yon Shua’s grip was weak.
“We should set up camp,” Castro ventured, “and then we can sort out each others odds and ends.” After some consideration Yon-Shua finally responded.
“Let’s,” Yon Shua replied.

Twenty minutes later the night was taking over while Yon Shua and Castro were sitting around a camping that Castro had lit with magic. Castro had already finished his helping of squirrel stew while Yon Shua was still on thirds. Castro had to hunt down another squirrel to eat. Yon Shua had made the bowls from thick leaves that fell from the trees above, an old trick he said was used by Gratiot’s to the south.
“I get around,” Yon Shua said between mouthfuls of stew. “Or used to before I got captured by those filthy Legnas. I was shipped—” another slurp, “here about two weeks ago.” He finished and put his bowl down. “You have my thanks. I don’t think I’d have been able to out run them in my current condition. Or in my Dominator state for that matter.”
"Why’d they make you change anyway?” Castro asked referring to the hunter with the crossbow. “They actually tried to harm you. To me, that just sounds suicidal.”
“We’re easier to sell,” Yon Shua replied scooping another bowl of stew from their makeshift pot, “when we’re in that state. I haven’t transformed in quite some time. I’ve never fully grasped the Dominator way. That…form never suited me.”
“Maybe you should become a Restrainer,” Castro said, not even knowing the word until seconds after the word exited his mouth. Somehow it was familiar to him, like most of the other knowledge he’d begun to pick up in his fresh new body. Yon Shua waved a dismissing hand at him while slurping more stew.
“I do not have the proper motivation for such things, my friend. To become a Restrainer, one must be able to push the demonic urges of transformation back, which is like trying to force a cannibal not to eat a slab of meat directly in front of him. Of course, they do have benefits, such as strong powers with magic and expertise in poisons, but like I said; I lack the motives. Any Dominator who’s accomplished that task had some great purpose.” He grew silent for a moment then consumed the rest of his stew.
“And what of you,” he asked in anticipation. “What adventures does the great Castro have for us tonight? A master Signer with such great strength and knowledge must have some tale.” Castro pondered for a moment.
“Actually,” he said scratching the back of his head. “I don’t really know much about that.” He strategically thought about whether or not it was a good idea giving such valuable information to a stranger.
“So you suffer amnesia?”
“No not exactly…” The Dominator was obviously confused so Castro decided to just let it out. “I never had a past. As a matter of fact, I’d say I was ‘born’ today.” Yon Shua smiled and began to laugh.
“I’m series!” Castro tried to say, “I haven’t forgotten my memories; they’re just not there!”
“Then where’d you come from,” Yon Shua said wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “All things come from somewhere. You can’t just appear from matter.”
“I remember a lake. And there were symbols floating in it. I was sinking…” He felt his chest, remembering the other being that was yanked from his chest. “And then someone was torn from me. Now I feel empty for some reason.”
“You are an awfully strange human.”
“But it’s true!”
Yon Shua sighed and leaned back on a tree.
“I cannot say I believe you but it sounds like you could use some help finding this… other self. But, because you seem to be strangely strong, would you mind if I accompanied you on your hunt? You could probably use someone too talk to.”
“Yes, I could,” said Castro thinking it over. “But you’re a Dominator. Those horns will make you hunted wherever we go!”
“You’re a great Signer,” Yon Shua said. “I’m sure you’ve got some guises I could use or some illusion to hide me.”
Castro hadn’t thought of that. He could use some company during his travels, and he did know of such spells (even if they were just now being reminded to him). And having a Dominator at your side was a plus in most skirmishes that Castro knew were inevitably coming.
“You know, that sounds like a great idea,” he said finally, “I could use the extra help. But I must warn you, my ventures might get dangerous.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Yon Shua said standing. “Either way I know I’m going to have to go through some battles, me being a slave and all, so someone watching my back would be nice. You sure handled those hunters well.”
He brought his thumb to his mouth and bit the tip, causing a small bit of blood to ooze from its tip. Castro shot up immediately alert.
“Yon Shua, you’re going to turn—”
“Don’t worry,” he said with a smile. Instead of becoming fully demonized, only his finger changed; the thumb nail became razor sharp as the blood trickled down it.
“Hold out your hand, this won’t last long; I’m already healing.”
“Why?”
“My blood mixed with yours will make you immune to my rage if I transform.”
Castro recognized the ritual. Slavers used it to protect themselves if the Dominators became wild and rampant. Castro held out his hand. Yon Shua pricked Castro’s hand with his bloody claw as the wound healed and the finger returned to normal. As soon as Castro’s flesh was torn, though the cut the size of a sliver, blood began gushing from the wound. Castro’s mind raced with possibilities before he fainted from blood loss.


CHAPTER 2

Castro awoke with Yon Shua looming over him with a concerned look on his face. Behind him, the sky was orange with dawn.
“You’ve been out for a while,” Yon Shua explained. Castro felt light headed. He tried to raise his hand to see the wound but it was already elevated. Yon Shua was holding it upright to stop the blood flow. The hand was numb and prickly and hand was severely bandaged with blood soaked torn cloth.
“You just wouldn’t stop bleeding and you passed out,” Yon Shua said un-moved. “You gave me quite a fright; I’ve never seen something like that before. The good news is that I think the ritual worked. I’ve been holding your arm up like this all night to stop you from bleeding out the blood I gave you.”
Then Castro said slightly confused, “Don’t Dominators sleep?”
“Yes, and I did. I just made sure your arm was constantly in this position. Because of our high stamina we can sleep in any position we choose. I could’ve slept standing up if I really wanted to.”
Castro sat up right as his mind began to move again. He felt blood return to his hand, causing the pain and prickling to get stronger. It’d start bleeding again momentarily. Yon Shua tried to push him back down to stop the bleeding but Castro insisted that he would sit. Quickly, he made two symbols with his free hand, causing it to glow green with magic, and placed it over the wound. He tore the bandages away to reveal an unharmed, if not stained with blood, hand. Yon Shua was amazed with the power of the healing magic. Castro stood but ended up falling to his knees.
“You lost a lot more blood then you think,” Yon Shua said coming to his side. “I’m surprised you’re awake. Maybe we should wait until you’ve recovered your blood.”
“That will not take very long,” Castro replied, as sudden knowledge of his body flooding to his mind. “I think I’ll be ready in a half hour, no more; my blood regenerates.”
Suddenly, the feeling of emptiness came to him again. He wasn’t perfect, although his body told him he was. The part of him that sheltered and protected his body seemed to be missing. He only had half of the strength and most of the knowledge. Were all the things he was missing in his other self? He fought with his memories that were supposedly bound to the Written Plains after creation. No spell or creation from magic was able to remember that place, excluding Familiars. But Castro tried. Surely the laws of magic would bend just the smallest bit for him to see his birth, or more doubtable, his creation. No beings could witness that. Familiars could remember past summonings but not their creation. With all his mental might, Castro saw himself sinking through the “water” of the Written Plains. He saw the figure fly from him. He couldn’t use this information. He tried to remember further but magic stopped his progress and threw him back to reality.
He stood, blood returned, and brushed leaves and dirt from his pants. “It’s only been forty one seconds!” Yon Shua said bolting to his feet, “how could you have already healed?”
“I guess I was faster than I expected,” Castro lied. Maybe it was the feeling of being so close to his birth place that allowed him to heal so quickly. He took note of that and remembered how he’d done it. It could be possibly life saving information.
“Now come,” he said finally. “We have some ground to cover. We head to the west!” Yon Shua smiled and cheered up.
“But first, can you make me that guise?”
“Oh, right.”

Stitching together a spell that made Yon Shua look as human as he’d ever looked wasn’t as hard as Castro had thought. In fact, to the average un-enchanted eye, Yon Shua looked like a regular human, without tattoos and with shoes. Castro had so much time left over that he decided to fix himself an extra layer of enchanted armored skin. It would buffer any blows he took and make him less susceptible to his own weaknesses.
“How come,” Yon Shua began as the walked, “you don’t remember anything solid, and yet you have a great understanding of all the countries, the Dominator race, and even multiple Signer spells?”
“It all came with the body,” Castro replied. “When I appeared in this world I was surprised I was able to do so many complex things as if they were natural. But most of it was instinct. My body knows me better than my mind does, if that makes any sense at all. And even small things. I could breath, recognize color, pain, my environment. Everything came to me as if I’d lived here for a great deal of time.”
“That’s what confuses me. Don’t humans have to actually learn those things?”
“Of course we do,” Castro said almost offended (even though he shouldn’t because he only looked human). “But for some reason, my mind doesn’t learn; it just knows.”
Yon Shua chuckled and ruffled Castro’s hair a bit. Yon Shua was a little taller than Castro and was able to make the action with little effort.
“Okay then,” he said jokingly. “Let’s just get to the town outside the forest. From there we can probably find this ‘other you’ that you were talking about last night.”
Castro had practically forgotten about last evening. His memories slowly returned to him as they walked. He’d told him about his incompleteness, about him breathing fire, about him adapting to the environment so quickly. Castro knew that Yon Shua was loyal. All Dominators were, to some extent, when they owed someone. But something about Yon Shua made Castro feel at ease. The word “friend” came to mind. Castro didn’t really know what that meant.
“What does friend mean?” He asked out loud after a long awkward silence.
“I beg pardon?” Yon Shua replied, slightly confused. Castro repeated the question. “Well let me think… That’s a hard one to put in words. A person you know well and regard with affection and trust. I think that’s what it means. Why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Castro knew, though, that Yon Shua was a friend. This made him relax a bit as their trust grew. Their “friendship” in a way. Many words flooded into Castro’s head as he learned the new word. Ally, Acquaintance, Buddy, Pal, Chum. It wouldn’t be long before they reached the town, or so Yon Shua said. From there they could make it to Juno.
“We’re near the edge of Orson’s territory,” Yon Shua explained. “This forest was fought over quite a bit, during and after the Angel Wars. The town we’re going to isn’t quite big enough to be a city, but it’s a main area of trade between Juno, Orson, and even some Rukan merchants. And yes, we Dominators are very well educated, even if most of us are slaves.”
Fair enough, Castro thought to himself. A few minutes later Castro could see the edge of the clearing that led into the town that Yon Shua called Rebelmoore. When they stepped from the forest, Castro sensitive human eyes were momentarily blinded by the light the forest was blocking. Dominators had such powerful eyes that they could stare at the sun for hours without blinking. They also could see in the dark and had a larger peripheral vision than any other species. After Castro recovered, he stared out at the town.
The town itself was actually made inside a two mile long crater, give or take. The houses were made of stone and wood, and most of them were connected at the roof by wooden planks or makeshift bridges. The houses were closer packed than Castro had anticipated. Atop several houses were guards in blue uniforms with loaded cross bows. Those houses must be guarded by the Orson, Castro guessed as he noticed only a select few of the houses were guarded.
After some estimations and observations of where many of the townspeople were going, he assumed the guarded areas were either where the mayor or chieftain resigned, or where key sectors of the market were. Either way, the town in all was one big market place. Though the Rukan were hated for the war they had waged, Castro could make out a few of their merchants.
“Don’t worry about those filthy Rukan,” Yon Shua said almost reading Castro’s mind. “They only allow civil folk around here. Most of them are Rukan refugees trying to stay away from the war.” He then smiled and began to walk into the crater. Castro followed more cautiously. Something was amiss with this place.
Maneuvering through the crowds while keeping up with the Dominator was easier than Castro thought, though his body was tending to do better than he thought as of late; his new body was more skilled than he knew or could comprehend. Half way into the town Yon Shua cut left into a tight alley, Castro following suit. Yon Shua turned to him half way through the tunnel and said, “We’ll need some supplies won’t we?” Castro nodded.
“Know of anywhere we can get some food? A knife possibly,” Castro asked.
Yon Shua thought it over for a second. “There is one place,” he began, “where I think we can get the majority of what we need. Got any coin?” Castro looked down at his belt. He pulled a small brown pouch from it and opened it. He poured several gold pieces into his other hand while Yon Shua counted.
“Will this be enough?” Castro asked unsure. Great; I don’t think I can count right. I counted eight hundred, but there’s no way I could have—
“I think it’s about eight hundred,” Yon Shua said in amazement. “Where’d you come across that much?” Castro simply shook his head and put the money away. Yon Shua rolled his eyes, knowing instantly that Castro was going to say “I have no idea.” He turned back around and started walking. They made their way through a network of twists and turns until they reached a booth that was a little further from the other shops. It was more of a concession stand. The cashier was fast asleep at the counter. Yon Shua slammed his fist on the table, throwing the cashier back into life.
“I swear I didn’t know they were— huh?” The man rubbed his eyes in disbelief. “Yon Shua, that you?” He looked around quickly, and then spoke again in a much quieter voice. “I thought you were… you know… enslaved by the Legnas.”
Yon Shua smiled. “I got out. And a couple of poachers tried to catch me yester- day until,” he pointed back to Castro. “This guy saved me, and then survived me in full Dominator form.” The Man looked amazed.
“He survived a Dominator,” the man asked suspiciously. “He just looks like your every day run of the mill, scrawny human.” Before Castro could protest, Yon Shua chimed in.
“He’s a signer, Dakota,” he said confidently, “and a powerful one at that.” Castro was shocked that his comrade would leak such information so casually. What was more shocking was that Castro was shocked about something that after more consideration wasn’t such a big deal. His new body was far too cautious.
“Then he must be with the bloody government!” the man shouted in a whisper. Or maybe it was a big deal… “No lawmen are welcome at my shop.” There was a pause. Suddenly a man dressed in an Orson officer outfit rounded the corner. He whistled and counted several coins. He looked up, slightly confused then noticed Dakota’s shop. He walked up to the counter and looked at the weapons that dangled from the ropes of the cart.
“Good afternoon, officer,” Dakota said pleasantly. “How may I help you?” The officer eyed the items scattered across the cart that had strips with prices on them.
“What… exactly do you sell here?” He seemed slightly angry with the establishment and paid Castro and Yon Shua no mind.
“Nothing illegal,” Dakota joked. The officer glared at him and read the sign above the store. “‘Dakota’s Survival Store’? What’s that mean?”
“It means that this shop sells things that keep the living…well…alive.”
“There’s been some illegal selling of ‘second life pills’ around this area. That one of your ‘items’ you sell here?”
“Of course! But, I’ll have you know, their only illegal in Orson.” The officer was becoming even more confused.
“But we’re in Orson.”
“Oh contraire, my shop is technically in Juno. As you know, Rebelmoore is two thirds in Orson, and one third in Juno. And in fair Juno, second life pills are completely legal, if not extremely hard to come by. What the customers do with the pills after I sell them is not my responsibility, as they are bound by contract.”
The officer was obviously angered by the loophole, and was probably contemplating arresting Dakota anyway. Yon Shua elbowed Castro and motioned to the posters shoved into the officer’s belt. The one most visible was a mug shot of Yon Shua. Castro nodded and turned around, beginning to a walk that would soon turn into a sprint.
“Hold it you two,” the officer said looking for a way to vent his anger. “You wouldn’t mind having a word with me in a more private environment, would you?” That means prison, Castro assumed. Castro turned back around along with Yon Shua to face him. The officer went sheet white when he recognized Yon Shua, regardless of the guise. Orson officers must where Dominator contacts so they can see through magic. Great. He reached for his short sword while Castro and Yon Shua had turned around again running. Castro looked back and saw the officer pull a talisman from his belt, then stick it onto his sword. He aimed the blade high and spoke one word. As Castro and Yon Shua rounded the corner, the sky seemed to light up a little. “Tracer flair,” Castro said instinctively. A red orb that the talisman had created flew over their head, sprinkling red stardust. Yon Shua looked up to see it and swore under his breath in Dominator. Yon Shua turned into an alley, Castro following suit.
The orb followed them. They say those things look more like eyes if you’re being chased by one, Castro said to him self. He didn’t know why he knew “what they say”; another area of this new mind that eluded him. Castro looked up at the orb again and noticed in raw horror that it very much did look like an eye. Yon Shua screeched to a halt, causing Castro to practically run into him. At the other end of were two more Orson officers rushing at where the orb led them. As one of them loaded a talisman with green paint on it, Yon Shua bolted in the other direction. Castro turned, but he was too late. A talisman landed right in front of his feat.
The letters glowed and vines rapidly grew from the parchment. Castro tried to run past, but the plants only caught his legs, tripping him. He struggled to unbind his legs with little results. Yon Shua stopped and looked back at him with dread. He rushed to Castro’s side and took a deep breath. He exhaled, setting the magical vines aflame with his Dominator fire. Castro struggle to his feet only to see the officer from Dakota’s at the end of the alley. Suddenly, Yon Shua fell. He’d been hit in the arms and legs by two other plant talismans. The officer slashed his sword, throwing talisman his at Castro. Castro ducked with great speed, dodging the green talisman. He made the gestures and hurled the flaming orb at the officer. Before Castro could see if it hit, an electrifyingly painful talisman hit him in the back. As the energy surged through his veins, he shuttered and twitched, trying to maintain control of his body. His shield broke and he fell forward, unconscious.