The stars had been absent for several nights now, their silvery light blocked by the billowing clouds of black smoke that seemed to cling to the night air. The town had been set a fire just as the last rays leaked from the setting sun, silhouetting the rampage in brilliant color. At first, the flames had seemed surreal and beautiful as they consumed the wood hungrily, but soon their beauty had faded to reveal the horrible sight they had created. Buildings lay hollow and black as the ashes blew around them, small fires still burned quietly here and there. The charred wood crumbled easily beneath the boots of those that treaded through the ruins of what had been a secluded village. The streets that had once echoed children’s laughter back to them now lay empty and ominously silent as dark figures walked hurriedly down them. These ghostly ruins looked strangely barren in the crisp Spring air.

Not far from this smoking desert, a camp has been set up, its white tents arranged in neat rows in a blatantly military fashion. Night had taken over the day and now the chill of night had descended upon the camp, but strangely these picturesque tents were empty as the men left behind their beds to pull close to their small campfires. Torches appeared where the firelight could not reach but they seemed only to lengthen rather than dispel the dark shadows lurking at every step. As infinite fires crackled, the hushed tones of wary men danced through the air as night sky turned to ink, allowing not even the luminous moon to shine through. Worried glances were spread about, each man knew it was silly to be scared of the darkness but that didn’t seem to matter.

The clouds thickened again as another building is fed to the flame and more come out of their tents to watch as the moon disappear behind the black veil. The men knew the smoke would clear away by the sun’s first rays, but that did little to draw back the courage the darkness had driven away. In the center of this stilled camp lay a tent grander than the rest, it’s silken walls surging in a ghostly breeze as they plunged to the churned earth below in silent, raven waves. Other than its silken material and larger size there were no ornamentations. A tall but narrow door boasted two guards, expressions of stone placed firmly upon their faces, on either side. These two seasoned soldiers each had a torch burning bright and close as swords were ready at hand. Inside this they listened as a voice raged with anger to have only silence reply.

"What do you mean they are massing?" The young man had hair to match the night sky and eyes of a turbulent ocean, intensifying the sense of midnight that seemed to swim about him in the candle lit room.

"Exactly that, my prince. Beyond the mountains." A man of little more than 20 years pointed to the tattered map unrolled on the table before them. His brown hair fell onto his tender face, giving him an impression of innocence, but one look at his eyes told of the brutality that could be accomplished when that innocence was laid aside.

"I thought this damn rebellion was finally quelled. We destroyed their base of command. Not a single building will stand by morning." The raven haired youth said with a wave of his hand to indicate the scene that lay beyond the elegant walls that now surrounded them.

"They are remassing." The statement was simple but it weighted the air heavily with distress. "A battle is inevitable and we cannot accurately predict their numbers. Some may still be hidden in the mountains and here in the adjoining valleys and caves." Moving his hand to show the locations he spoke, of the young commander looked to his prince with dread.

"Gods!" With a resounding crash, two coarse hands were smashed against the protesting table. "Another battle may not favor us so well."

"Those words are truer than you know, your grace. The men already speak of this place being haunted. Spirits are not friendly to their executioners." The commander’s brown hair was matted with dirt and sweat and as the prince looked at him he noticed these trivial things for the first time. He knew the truth of his commander’s words, knew his men were weary and haggard and yet anger swelled within him.

"Let them learn there are no ghosts, no spirits or banshees to steal their souls or sleep. Set half the men on watch detail and ‘advise’ the other half to sleep for they will take the second watch. Anyone caught abandoning his post will be hung." With those menacing words still draped across the air, the prince dismissed his commander with evident frustration.

* * *

The sound of footfalls were heard long before the men were seen, their shadowy forms appearing and disappearing as they entered and left the welcoming glow of campfires. As the men passed by, onlookers could see unease and anger boiling over with every step, strain apparent on their faces. Ten soldiers marched five very reluctant prisoners through the camp, but what only a few moments ago would have been news was quickly ignored as each man saw where the prisoners were headed. None knew what their prince wanted with these captives, but each man was equally as sure that they didn’t want to know.

* * *

"Your highness, we found these five in one of the abandoned buildings." The speaker was of middle age with a rough beard appearing on his normally clean shaven face. He looked worn and tired but his posture still exuded undeniable authority.

"They killed several of my men." These last words were spoken in only a whisper but the hatred they held promised vengeance. As the prince looked over the prisoners, he was surprised to see they were no more than mere girls. 17 maybe 18 at the most. Each was clad in a long, faded dress, that may have once held color, but now they were only earthen brown as the muddied ground had taken hold of the hue. Their ranks spanned from wall to wall as they stood before him, shoulder to shoulder, his guards holding them firmly. A hushed sob drew his attention to the dark corner and the end of this parade of captives. He would have continued on had he not noticed that instead of a budding youth, a time ravaged body stood in its place. Her form was hunched over covered by a coarse cloak of brown sack cloth that draped to her feet.

"They seemed to have been protecting her," the commander said, following his prince’s dark gaze.

"Some hag," the commander said with utter disgust, a soldier rarely despised anything more than frail age.

"Why were you protecting her?" The question was not placed to any single prisoner but to them all as his gaze swept the mismatched sort. The question seemed to startle them and no answer was forth coming. Sighing, he looked again to the cowering form of the crone.

"Take her away, I have little use for some withered old woman. I’ll deal with her later." As the words left his lips his eyes returned to his prisoners. Was that relief he saw in that one’s eyes? Her blue hair singled her out marvelously in the dark tent. Was there anxiety in that fiery one’s stance?

"Wait." The word was spoken and not a breath was released to answer it. "Bring her here." Now he saw fear clearly displayed for him as the ancient matron was brought before him. A cruel smile graced his lips as he watched the scene play out before him.

"Your grace?" The commander asked with confusion. What possible use could an old woman have when supple youth lay before him waiting to supply answers? Anger flared in the prince but he quickly pushed it aside.

"Why would they protect a crone if she were useless? Loyalty only goes so far commander." The words were spoken flatly and calmly, but no one in the room missed the rebuking undertone.

"Yes your grace," Was mumbled back to him. Now she stood before him, her figure quaking slightly. Her hunched shoulders looked pitiful as her entire form came not even up to his shoulders.

"Pull back your hood." The words were so utterly a command that the prince was astonished for a moment when they were not immediately obeyed. Again anger flared and his pride was singed, but that would all be corrected shortly. He stopped a guard as he moved to pull back the offending hood.

"Let the her do it herself. You are a ‘her’ aren’t you?" No response. "Come now, are you so ugly that you fear to defile our eyes with the sight of you? How noble." His words were laced with sarcasm but still the figure did not move. "Come now, let us see who is so vital to the world that several of my men had to die." Those words caused a choked sob to escape the bent hood, but still no movement was seen. The prince’s temper and patience had quickly reached their end as he jerked the hood back and heard horrified screams escape each prisoner’s mouth at once. A cruel smile continued to play on his face as he looked at them but that smile quickly faded as he looked to the sight before him.

A temptress of beauty untold in epic mastered in any age long past stood before him. Her liquid blue eyes stared back at him, defiant yet fearful. A silk netting, transparent as wisps of mist wrapped her hair, moonstones attached with stitches finer than an eyelash glistened in the candlelight. The stones seemed to call to him and without knowledge of his actions, the prince reached forth and clutching that insubstantial fabric pulled it free. Sun rays fell out in a waterfall of gold as flowing locks of this siren’s hair cascaded to the floor. Many gasped but the prince heard none of them, as he could only stare at the creature before him. With numb hands, he reached down to the simple tie that held the offensive brown cloak to this angel’s body. It seemed so unnatural to have anything but the finest fabric touching that milky skin. The cloak fell away obligingly to pool at her feet, revealing in that simplistic act, robes of pure white, tinged at the edges with silver that sparkled as the moon. A simple silver pendant hung around her neck with a crescent moon adorning the end of it, completing the garb.

With an audible snap, the world came into focus again, noise flooded back into his ears as he continued to stare at the woman before him. Strangely, it was the first time he thought of her as a woman. Angel, siren and any number of other creatures of mythical beauty had captured his senses but never the simple word woman. A woman was common and obtainable, the individual before him was anything but common. Was she obtainable? He looked at her again with new eyes. He gaped at her luminous eyes, her milky skin and golden hair and lust answered him eagerly. He felt it course through his body, flowing through his veins with new intensity with each second that passed. Lifting his hand, he reached out to touch that silken hair, already imagining the feeling of it flowing between his fingers, but she pulled away from his touch. At first, rage was there but slowly his previous smile appeared, but the woman before him stepped back in fear at the look in those azure eyes.

"Commander I think introductions are in order." The prince’s cool voice rushed through the tent and all movement stopped. A vicious smile spread across the commander’s face. It made him hideous.

"Sweet ladies, may I introduce you to my lord, Prince Endymion of earth." A gasp was heard from his goddess. His eyes had never left her form as the words were spoken. He knew then that she was his.