Sinder looked around at the jungle nervously. He had never had the opportunity to visit Paradwyn before, and could have lived out the rest of his existence happily if it had stayed that way. Turning to look his master in the eye, Sinder knew Rayje could sense his apprehension.

"There's just something unsettling about dreams that wait for you to fall asleep, that's all."

With a small chuckle the ancient Magi turned his attention from his uneasy student, now studying the devastated landscape. quot;Wild creatures are the least of our concern at this point, my young apprentice." Rayje knelt and examined some vines lying on the ground, "this was the site of a large battle." Sinder looked about, as if searching for something. "Not too long ago," he guessed out loud. "There is still power in the air." Rayje nodded as he rose to his feet.

"The losers were pushed back. That way," he pointed into the dense vegetation. Cinching up his belt, Rayje was obviously readying himself for battle. Trying to see what his teacher was looking at, Sinder nervously asked: "What's that way?"

"More jungle." Rayje shrugged.

Nodding thoughtfully, it took Sinder a moment to notice that Rayje had launched into a sprint, cutting foliage from his path with the blade of his blazing sword.

And he says he's not a Calder, Sinder thought as he dashed after his Master.

Taking long strides, Sinder swiftly caught up with Rayje. Years of wearing his trademark Mantle, combined with the rigorous lifestyle of a warrior of Cald had left the slender Magi in excellent shape.

"Easy now Sinder." Rayje panted over the thundering of their boots. "It is hard to follow from the front." It if were not for Rayje’s cheshire grin, Sinder would have taken him seriously.

"You know, you?i>Oomph!" Sinder’s witty counter was swept away by his breath being forced out of his lungs, as Rayje suddenly tackled him, forcing him down into the dense underbrush. Rayje put his hand on Sinder’s chest. "Stay down," he cautioned in a whisper.

Not a moment later, a baritone howl began to rise from somewhere further ahead. Sinder tried to move, but was held motionless by Rayje. His questioning look was met with a steely stare and a slowly shaking head. As the howl became nearly unbearable, the trees above them were bathed in a blinding green light. Rushing over them was a warm, sickly sweet breeze that turned their stomachs and made their skin crawl. After but an instant, the horrid experience had passed, stampeding off into the jungle like some nightmarish herd of Jungertrugs.

Crawling up behind a small outcropping of vine-choked rock, Rayje and Sinder peered around at the carnage in the clearing below them. They had obviously found the battle.

"Sweet Tony Jones," Sinder murmured. "Look at what they've done to this place."

"Sort of like what the Calders did to Orothe?" Rayje countered coolly.

Embarrassment crept across Sinder’s face like a sneaking Braggle, and slowly he began to nod.

"I told you that you would have much to learn." Turning his attention back to the battle, Rayje took note of a tall figure stomping his way through the battered sea of Paradan Magi. "Think you can handle this?" Rayje waved his hand over the wreckage below as the Bograthians began rounding up their fallen adversaries.

Again, Sinder was speechless.

"It only takes a single person, Sinder, if that person knows how and when to act."

Taking a moment to collect his scattered thoughts, Sinder nodded. "What must I do?"

Rayje slipped a ring from his finger and handed it to Sinder. "Take this, you'll know what to do."

Sinder accepted the ring and chimed back, "And when?"

Rayje smiled at his pupil, "Yeah, and when. Oh, and Sinder, don't break it." Rolling back and behind a large tree for cover, the legendary magi darted off into the jungle.

Sinder watched the bright cloak vanish into the underbrush and then looked down at the heavy ring in his hand. Suddenly his eyes widened as he realized what he had just been given. A rumble of thunder caused him to raise his eyes toward the cloud-laden skies. Thunder Vashps were beginning to race among the clouds, and soon the whole of Orothe would begin pouring from the sky.

Great, Sinder thought, I just got dry.

The slightest Ouch! pushed passed Boria’s lips as she was shoved to her knees before the Elder of Bograth. For three days she had struggled to remain strong, but scuffing her soft skin against the trampled foliage was the Fird that broke the Furok’s back.

"’Ere’s they Eldah, Miss ‘Lobra? Granna cackled while wringing her sweaty hands. "Put up a nahsty fight, she did. On ‘er knees now though, eh?" Laughing under her breath, Granna returned to help the other Bograthians wrangle their groaning victims.

It was obvious that Boria’s will was nearly broken. The strong airs she carried herself with were long gone, lost somewhere in Paradwyn’s darkest hour; even her normally wild hair hung sadly in her face. Tears welled in her large eyes, but before she could cry her head was turned back to face Olabra by the end of the Bograthian Elder’s staff. Instantly the sadness turned to rage.

"Your fury does not scare me, little girl." Olabra purred condescendingly, "You’re proof this land needs to be conquered. They bow their head to a child and call her Elder." The word dripped with venom so toxic Boria leaned away for fear of being poisoned.

Her voice shaking with fatigue and hate, the fair Paradan responded weakly. "Better to serve a child than an idiot king."

With a sneer from ear to ear, Olabra leaned so close to Boria that their noses nearly brushed. Were the flower still in Boria’s hair, it would have surely been wilted by the stench of Olabra’s breath.

Like an errant flame, Olabra’s tongue lightly licked her grimy teeth as she spoke with barely restrained glee. "That is a problem that the real Elder of Paradwyn is about to remedy for me."

On one knee, Bahza strained against his blasted body, trying desperately to stand. Korg was coming up the slope and Bahza was all that stood between the All-High King and the grove of the Paradise Gem.

As Korg reached the summit of the rise, he stopped dead in his stompin?tracks. A lean, emerald-skinned Magi was barring his royal way. "Outta?da way, old man." Korg waved his scepter threateningly over his head.

"Lord Korg, I will not let you pass." Bahza slowly crossed his arms over his chest in a sign of marked defiance to the Bograthi Warlord’s threat.

Korg’s scepter-swingin?arm hung in the air comically. It was apparent that Bahza was going to try to reason with him, and the very notion froze the conquering Magi in place. Korg hated reason; almost as much as he hated someone being in his way.

"I cannot let you have the Paradise Gem."

With a low growl, Korg’s eyes narrowed to slits. "You ain’t gonna stop me, so ya better move b’fore I clobber ya."

Bahza’s face hardened as he raised a ring covered fist. His long years drew tight across his weathered skin, the deep lines made all the more pronounced by the pulsing light emanating from his animite rings. "I feared that my words would fall upon deaf e—rrrrmmphhh!" Korg’s scepter connected solidly with the side of his head, cutting him off. Drawing back his scepter, Korg watched Bahza spin around before hitting the ground.

Korg spat wildly as he shouted, furious at the crumpled Magi that now lay beneath him. "NOW MY WRIST HURTS YA OLD COOT! IF I?" It was then that Korg realized that he was standing in front of the entrance to the Sacred Grove, the resting place of his shiny prize. Completely forgetting what he was talking about, he dashed inside with a speed fueled by excitement. "WOO HOO! IT’S MINE!!!"

In his fervor, Korg did not notice the cloaked figure approaching Bahza. The figure knelt and checked a groaning Bahza’s swelling jaw.

A tropical deluge had been cascading from the sky for the last few minutes, rinsing the filth from even the Bograthians. Olabra wished for the rain to end soon, as she had spent years getting her clothes this comfortably grungy. "Collect their rings, my warriors. I will not have our victory snatched from my—err, The All-High King’s hands by carelessness." Pacing back and forth while directing her people, Olabra failed to notice a lean, armored figure making his way through the rain.

Slowing to a stop, Sinder clenched his fists as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "That is enough, hag."

Whirling about, a wicked sneer threatening to tear her face in two, Olabra roared. "Who DARES use that tone with me?" Panting from her sudden outburst, it took a moment for her wild eyes to narrow and fix on the Calder.

Steam began rising from Sinder’s shoulders as his rain soaked body burned with volcanic anger. Wanting nothing more than to trade the sulfurous skies of his homeland for a voice that did not quake with nervousness, he straightened his stance and spoke slowly. "Sinder, warrior of Cald and apprentice to legend, addresses you as befits your nature, witch."

Dumbstruck, Olabra could only growl at her impudent foe. Wringing her hands on the handle of her staff, the air about her began to sizzle and pop with gathering energy.

Raising a white-knuckled fist, Sinder swallowed hard again. The huge ring that Rayje had given him seemed to grow heavier as he began to focus his energy through it.

Inside the Sacred Grove, the falling rain was funneled through a woven-vine ceiling, and poured into a maze of small streams that circled the walls of this expansive chamber. The flowing streams merged above a flowering pedestal set into the back wall, creating a small waterfall. Atop this pedestal lay the Paradise Gem, shedding a gentle light that flickered throughout the Grove as droplets of water split the light into rainbows of color.

The gentle waterfall bathed the Paradise Gem, the crystalline waters flowing over the shining surface and splashing down upon the living altar. The vivid petals of a hundred jungle flowers danced in an ephemeral breeze, as their tightly wound stalks happily drank up the Gem’s sparkling shower. A peaceful silence, broken only by the trickling of the rainwater, hung in the air—marred by Korg’s heavy breathing.

The savage Magi leered at his shiny new prize. Larger than his head, and covered with hundreds of perfect facets, it reflected a legion of All-High Kings leering right back at him. Anger began swelling in the pit of his stomach, as even his trophy mocked him.

"Why you? Korg raised his scepter high and readied to bash the ancient stone. Only a few good stomps and a hefty swing stood between Korg and thousands of prismatic shards flying through the air. Or so he thought.

"Ahem."

Slowly glaring over his shoulder, Korg grunted. "Who’re you?"

"I was going to ask you the same question." Rayje was leaning against the archway to the chamber, arms crossed nonchalantly over his chest.

"Whaddayamean, who am I? All-High King Korg, the Great an?Mighty Emp-rer of Great an?Mighty Bograth!" Turning awkwardly to face this nuisance, Korg thumped his chest with a bandage-wrapped fist.

"You said ‘great?and ‘mighty? twice."

"Shaddup."

Strolling into the Grove Rayje rested his hands on his hips, revealing a bladeless hilt hanging from his belt. "So, what is the ‘Emp-rer?of Bograth doing here in Paradwyn?"

"King stuff."

"Ah, and does this ‘king stuff?also explain why your eyes glow with Core energy?"

Korg was growing annoyed with the line of questioning, but what was more frustrating is that the All-High King felt like he should know this stranger from somewhere.

"Run along, Mr. Foofyhair, I got a gem ta?bash; ‘less you want some first." Korg’s voice was barely more than a low snarl.

Rayje’s brow furrowed. "Walk away Korg. I would hate to have to hurt you."

The Sacred Grove shook with a bloodcurdling howl as Korg swung his scepter straight for Rayje’s head. As it stopped a few inches short, the towering Magi’s eyes widened. A column of blue-white energy barred his scepter’s path. Following it down, Korg found the hilt from Rayje’s belt, now grasped in both of its master’s hands and far from bladeless.

"Not this time, Korg." Korg bellowed again as he shoved Rayje backwards, but the old warrior executed a graceful back flip and landed in a defensive stance just a few paces away. "Aww, looks like you are going to have to work for this one." Watching Korg’s surprised face twist into a grotesque visage of rage made the old Magi smile. He had hoped to trick Korg into attacking wildly and it seemed to be working.

Unfortunately for Rayje, that was how Korg preferred to fight.