Resignations in the Rain

The more the rain falls, the harder it is to escape the past, but if there's no one there to help can you ever be saved? When long buried memories start to resurface, four individuals bound together by a cruel twist of Fate find themselves slipping deeper into darkness. Doma-centric angst with eventual friendship fluff and WAFF.

Part Two of the 'In The Rain' Trilogy.

Well, at least I think it's a trilogy. I had thought that I'd be able to resolve the story in this chapter, but I still have more to say! Also, although this is written as the second chapter, it can also stand alone as a oneshot, but it probably makes more sense when read with the first part – 'Reflections in the Rain.'

I'd just like to say that I'm dedicating this fic to Shattered Virtue-Eucalyptus. I can't tell you how elated I am that you've decided to come back to Special Author's Note to Shattered Virtue-Eucalyptus – Despite all the pain, all the grief and all the misery of our past, we should always have hope for the future, and even when we think that everything will fall apart and shatter, there are always those there to help us pick up the pieces.

Warnings – angst, various depressed characters, mature themes and language; all the usual in a Doma fic. but it's not all bad, I do intend to give this fic a happy ending – really!

---

Milky white skin took on an ethereal glow as Dartz lay entwined in the gentle light of the moon. Long periwinkle hair fell like water over smooth alabaster as he struggled to maintain consciousness, the steady fall of the rain forming a soothing rhythm which threatened to drown him in a deep but fitful slumber.

Droplets of rain brushed against bare skin as blasts of wind carried the gemlike beads into his room. Although he owned possibly the largest skyscraper building in Domino City, second only to Kaiba Corp. and Seto Kaiba's immense glass construction, Dartz had chosen not to have windows installed in his own chambers, preferring to the himself open to the elements and the rest of the world.

It was a force of habit; the same power that made it impossible for him to cut his hair or to abandon his quest. It was something that he had been doing his whole life and had become a part of himself. He couldn't change that now even if he wanted to.

Still naked save for the Oricalchos amulet that hung around his neck, Dartz found himself becoming ever more increasingly entangled within his soft sheets. In fact, it felt as though his bed was trying to swallow him alive as the sleep that always seemed to evade his mind seemed intent on claiming him for the first time in millennia. Although his icy being trembled with the cold, his body was slick with a thin layer of hot sweat as he tried to fight the darkness that threatened to consume him.

He wondered if he would ever escape.

Dartz clutched his right hand over his chest as his heart clenched, pounding painfully against his ribcage, trying to escape from its bone prison. Unable to face the pain alone, Dartz let a solitary tear roll down his fine cheekbones and off his chin. The lone droplet fell onto his sheets, bleeding through the fibres that brushed against his skin before dissipating so much that the small mark vanished. It was as though it was never even there.

That single tear was all that he gave himself.

He didn't deserve the relief that would doubtless come from hours of tears and endless crying.

In retrospect, Dartz couldn't ever remember crying. He had wiped such memories from his mind when his city was destroyed by the very people it had once protected. That day, Dartz had lost more than his home; he had lost his faith.

He had always believed his fellow Atlantians to be among the purest people in all the world with their kindness and caring, but even they had been tainted greed and lust, and the ever growing desire for power conquered even the best of his followers. Even now his heart gave a mournful cry when he thought about them – how wasted they were and how much pain they had brought him and each other.

But now it was his Warriors who were hurting – hurting so very badly.

He had thought that he had suffered in his life and indeed he had, but ten thousand years of unrelenting pain was nothing compared to the burning ache that his three Warriors were feeling at that moment in their young lives. Never had he felt something so intense – such agony.

Dark memories flashed through his mind; of his horrible past, the fall of Atlantis and the Great War. And yet even as he recalled his own past, he felt the memories of his warriors merge with his, magnifying the intensity of the ever-changing emotions that had begun to charge through his system in a way that made him believe his very soul was on fire.

Unmatched eyes closed tightly, trying to source out the origin of their anguish. It wasn't so much a physical pain as it was an electric feeling of emotion surging through his veins. Each second, another feeling – sorrow, grief, guilt, despair…they all washed through him until he felt that he would surely explode with the strength of the sensations that he had known all too well in his life. In fact in the ten millennia of his existence they had come to be his only friends.

My constant companions.

Yes, in all his ten thousand and twenty one years the pain was the only thing that he knew he could rely on.

Although they were unaware of it, Dartz and they had a strange bond with one another. Due to the time that he had spent watching and preparing them for their current missions to revive the Great Leviathan, Dartz had developed a strong empathetic bond with each of them. Dartz had never intended to understand them so well that he would be able to read their thoughts and channel their emotions as his own, but as the years wore on he found they were all like him in their own way; lonely and lost in a world which was empty and unforgiving. In the beginning, Dartz had found that he had to lock himself away in his alter room while praying and chanting in a way that filled the whole of the archaic building with his voice and ancient words as their thoughts became his and their nightmares filled his mind during his restless nights.

But his warriors were a tough group, chosen for their strength, skills and determination; they themselves avoided thinking about their pasts as much as possible. After all, who would want to remember the horrors of war, the loss of family, the darkness of evil…But even so, periodically, one would lapse into an unwanted memory, pulled into the past when the present became too much for them and they questioned their futures. However, with time, Dartz had been able to control his bond with them, although it did mean that he had to permanently keep his mental defences up.

But now…he felt the walls crumbling. All three of his warriors were being confronted by their pasts and Dartz found that he could no longer keep them out of his head. He was being attacked on all sides, a constant barrage of frightening images that would leave even the strongest of men insane. They began to seep into his mind ever so slowly, twisting themselves with his own memories until Dartz could no longer tell where his ended and theirs began.

He was like a tiny vessel being thrown about on the waves during a storm, so fragile that he could shatter and break at any moment. As much as he tried to deny it, Dartz was scared. He had never felt so vulnerable or unsure of himself for so long. He felt completely overwhelmed as years of doom and destruction warped their way into his very spirit; his soul.

Then again, it wasn't exactly his soul anymore.

Nothing was really his. At times, Dartz felt like he was only going through the motions controlled by a force too powerful to resist. Dartz supposed that he was probably more like a puppet for the Great Leviathan rather than his Avatar.

Dartz cried out as their pain tore through him, but he was tortured all the more when he realised that he was the cause of all their pain.

He had never wanted this. He had never wanted anyone to feel as he had done – so alone, unloved and hopeless. No! This was the reason why he had sold his soul to the Great Leviathan in the first place – why he had abandoned his humanity for the power offered to him by the Oricalchos.

I wanted to wipe out all the pain, the misery, the suffering…

But then why was it so strong in those that he had chosen to aid him in his quest? Those that needed to be free of it so that they could see and understand what he wanted to achieve – it just didn't seem fair.

No, it wasn't fair at all.

All these years had he been wrong in following the Great Leviathan? No, it couldn't be. The Great Leviathan wanted to help him and it had given him a means to it. Unconsciously, Dartz touched his fingers to the Orichalcos stone that hung around his neck and it flared bright green, as though reading his intentions. No, he had to do this. If he didn't, then so many more would be forced to suffer – so many more souls would be lost.

And he just couldn't let that happen.

Not after ten thousand years of endless servitude to the Great Leviathan. Not after he had spent his entire life trying to save humanity – he was not about to relent in his quest for salvation.

But that didn't mean he wasn't going to try to help his Warriors. If anyone deserved to be happy it was them. After all, they had unknowingly sacrificed so much. Dartz wouldn't let them lose anymore.

"Argh!" for a brief moment, Dartz felt his heart stop. His whole body convulsed before the organ continued to pump erratically. "Oh, Gods!" he cried aloud, glassy green and amber eyes flashing open in horror. He felt strangely ill as his heart seemed to know itself in his stomach and a dull feeling of realisation overcame him.

Maybe it was already too late to save them.

---

Varon fingered a small shard of the broken glass from the shattered window, now warm with the heat of his fingers, although his now drying blood still seemed to burn at his exposed flesh. The light from the half hidden moon caught the surface of the crystalline object and highlighted a tiny spot of red where he had accidentally smeared his blood.

He frowned. That was all he had even been – a dark smudge in the world of the pure of the light. He was an evil that would gradually consume any goodness that had ever existed or come into being. His parents must have known – that must have been why they abandoned him when he had been born.

Then again, they had probably forsaken him even before then.

Icy tears stung at the corners of his eyes. He was the demon that everyone believed him to be – the bringer of destruction, the devourer of light. If only Mother Mary had listened to them – if only she had left him, she would have been safe; she would be alive. The only consolation Varon had was the bastards that killed her would spend eternity in Purgatory while she found her sanctuary in Heaven.

At least she could find peace.

Gripping the sharp piece of glass in his fist, Varon waited for the frozen ice to melt. His blood was hot and thick and dark, reminding him of all the Sins he had fought so hard to avoid and yet committed anyway. He winced as the rough edges bit into his hand, drawing yet more rivers of sticky red liquid.

It hurt; but it didn't hurt enough.

Slowly, Varon opened up his closed hand and revealed the blood that stained his hand, a red rose blossoming in his palm. No, not a fresh bloom, but the blown rose; one-time beauty turning black with death and disease.

His hands became fists once more as he crushed the tiny fragment of ice in his tight grasp before crystal dust fell through his fingers like the drops of rain outside. His breath turned ragged as he realised what he was. He was the Plague, bringing death to all those who touched him; it was only a matter of time.

Varon supposed that that was one of the reasons that he had ever decided to join Doma in the first place. When Dartz had first appeared to him, he offered him a way out of the darkness of isolation, a way forward to salvation…

But then the missions started; the stealing of souls and the taking of lives. It was wrong, Varon knew it was, but what choice did he have? At least with Doma he had a chance to revive a god who would actually change the world for the better, even if it did take the destruction of the whole of humanity to achieve it. Then again, his old 'God' once destroyed all but a handful of souls in His quest to save His Earth; he had drowned them all in a vengeful rage.

It didn't matter to him though. He would follow the Devil himself if it meant that he had a chance - no matter how small – of redemption. Dartz had said that the Great Leviathan promised safety to all those who helped to revive him.

Varon wasn't sure if he believed him or not, but even if he was wrong to trust him, he knew that Mother Mary would forgive him even if her God didn't. He didn't seem to care about him at all, anyway and so Varon didn't give a damn about His opinion.

Picking up another piece of glass, one of the larger shards this time, Varon contemplated running the jagged sides along his wrists, to bleed away the remainder of his essence, of his life. It wasn't hard, Varon knew it wasn't; he had seen it done before. He had even caught Raphael at it once.

He could have stopped him, but he didn't. Instead, he watched transfixed as the liquid spouted from his veins like fountains of red water. He hadn't worried about him though; he had no need to be. Varon knew that Raphael wasn't trying to kill himself – he would never resort to something so cowardly and submissive. He wasn't even doing it to hurt himself.

Varon knew – he knew that as much as Raphael tried to claim that he had no feelings and maintain the icy façade of emotionless apathy he still felt. But at times, after so many years of hiding and ignoring those feelings, it was hard to remember. He was no longer sure if he had ever felt anything before.

And that was why he did it. To see if it hurt, to prove to himself that he was still human, that he felt pain and wasn't invulnerable to the world around him. He needed to know, to experience it for himself. The cold edge of the blade had been nothing but a comfort to Raphael; in a twisted way the pain brought him security and made him feel safe.

But to Varon, it brought pain. There would be no relief in the icy edge travelling across skin that would eventually be roasted by his lava-like blood. Then again, one quick stroke, if deep enough, could end all his pain, and all his sorrows. He would be alone forever and never have to fear hurting anyone ever again. After all, who would care if he were to leave this world? People had been telling him to get out of their lives ever since he had been born and the only person who had ever cared about had already died.

He didn't want to risk hurting someone else who might eventually come to mean something to him. That was why he always played the fool and acted like such a pain. He was afraid that someone might get close to him; that someone might actually end up caring about him. It was better if everyone hated him, so perhaps it was good that Raphael found him insufferable and Amelda wanted to personally sacrifice him to the Great Leviathan. He would probably dress his body up like Seto Kaiba after and throw him into the ocean, not that it mattered.

It was always easier to die when there was nothing holding you back and no one there to stop you.

Varon knew that his death would come eventually – that in itself was an inevitability, but even he wasn't in any particular hurry to speed the process up, even if it might end all of his misery. It wouldn't be fair, not to all those that he had made suffer, all those whose lives he had taken. So many had died at his hands that Varon had vowed to live and experience all the pain that his life would afford to him. It was a necessary burden on his part in exchange for the sacrifice of their lives. It was only right that he be made to endure whatever came his way after everything they had been made to undergo when the Great Leviathan consumed them and took their life force for its own.

Varon wasn't stupid. Or maybe he was, and that was why he refused to give in so easily. He was determined to live out his life, no matter how hard. Perhaps in his subsequent years he could find some sort of redemption in following Dartz and his god. He bit back a bitter snort, dropping the glass shard to the floor and breaking it as he did so.

The pain wouldn't be enough anyway. His blood could never burn hot enough. There was no need to score himself with cold glass and molten blood because he knew that the only way he could ever truly feel the heat of the fires of Hell would be when he finally got there.

---

Sunlight streamed in through the broken window of the long abandoned warehouse, spotlighting the thick layer of dust that hung in the stale air, warm with smoke and fire. It was filled with empty wooden boxes that had long ago been broken and plundered, whatever they had once held a secret known only to them.

Sitting on a crate with his knees drawn up to his chest, a young red haired boy stared idly out of the empty window watching as the final drops of rain evaporated away. His fingers toyed with the fraying edges of his stolen clothing, robbed from the body of a boy that had been only a few years older him. A boy who had been killed in the war.

He supposed he should feel terrible for taking it, or at least some shame for stripping down a corpse, but the truth was that this was what he had to do to survive. At least he hadn't eaten the body like some of the others would have.

Next to him, a darker haired boy played with an old, yet obviously well loved toy. Although battered and dented, the small action figure gleamed in the bright light, its eyes twinkling and its mouth held in a perpetual smile.

"You still have that?" asked the older of the two as he lowered his gaze to the boy at his feet.

The toy was really old. It was a gift that both he and his mother had had to save money for many months before they could afford to buy it. During the war, such items were rare and expensive, but in the end, it was worth it just to see the look on Miiruko's face when he received it. The old action figure never left his hands – to him it was like another member of their broken family.

Now it was the only one he had left.

"Of course, Amelda – this is Dino Dude," he announced, proudly waving the figure in the air. "He's gonna come and save us all."

Amelda laughed and ruffled Miiruko's hair with his hand affectionately. "Well I wish he'd hurry up and get here already," he said, trying to hide his sadness from his brother.

He had all but given up hope when the last of their friends had been taken away. Or killed. He shook his head – he couldn't think of them like that – gone. Instead, he just pretended they had been captured, just like his mom…But in the end, he realised he had to confront the truth. He could lie to himself, but he couldn't lie to Miiruko.

"Where's mom?" asked Miiruko as he toyed with Dino Dude figure absently.

"She's gone," whispered Amelda sadly as he turned his head so that he hid his face from his younger brother's burning stare and quickly wiped away a few stray tears that threatened to fall.

"I know that – where did she go?"

"She was – captured."

So much for not lying.

But maybe – maybe if his brother truly believed, then it would be true. Like those children who hope and pray for something so hard and with such pure trust that it eventually happens. Then again, it was usually the parents that ended up fulfilling their wishes, and Amelda and Miiroku didn't have any.

Not any more.

"Oh, well one day, Dino Dude is gonna come and save us all and then he's gonna go and rescue mom!"

Amelda could only smile weakly at his brother's optimism, but eventually his brother began to understand that their mom just wasn't coming back. But that didn't change his innocent belief that Dino Dude someday would come and save them, and it was this strong belief that gave him the hope to continue.

As the bright morning sunlight faded to black and the dream finally broke, Amelda finally realised why it hurt so much that Dino Dude had been broken. The tiny figure had been a symbol of hope for both him and his brother – the light in the darkness that would one day save them. While he was still around, he still had hope – now that he had gone, all hope had died, just like his mom and just like his brother.

And now, just like all those years ago when his mom died, the angels were crying. No one was dead, but without hope, Amelda may as well have been.

At least then it wouldn't feel like he was dying.

---

The blare of a noisy horn echoed in Raphael's mind along with the shouts of a fearful driver.

"What the hell? Get outta the way!" he screamed from behind the wheel of the giant lorry that was careering towards him at a break neck – along with every other bone in the body – speed.

Dark eyes were closed to the world and the loud shouts fell on deaf ears. Raphael had shut himself off from everything. He had had enough – this was it. All he could feel was the warmth of the bright light that seemed to radiate around his tired body. Slowly, gloved hands relaxed their grip on solid metal handlebars, the rain gilding them like liquid silver.

Mind numb with exhaustion, Raphael was ready to give himself over to death – to finally be reunited with the family he so longed to see again. He knew that he had made the choice the moment he had decided to drive out into the merciless night.

"Sonia, Julian, mom, dad…" faces that had blurred and faded with time were printed clearly in his mind as he prepared himself for his last moments.

That night – the night he lost them all, danced into his mind. The tears, the screaming, the crash of the waves and the feel of icy waters pulling him from all that he had ever known…it was so cruel – so heartless. He had only been a child and yet his entire family had been taken away from him. They were good people, too – they hadn't deserved to die just because they wanted to show him just how much they loved them.

Despite the painful memory, Raphael felt himself smiling. Perhaps the only reason he had survived was because the strength of their love had kept him save and alive.

A piercing light flooded into Raphael's mind as his Guardian Airtos descended from the heavens in a shower of rainbow coloured light, her soft white feathers replacing the rain that had fallen.

"Airtos…" he whispered as he reached out to touch her in a daze.

Suddenly, the snowy feathers turned to dark flames and in an ear-splitting scream, Guardian Airtos became consumed within the black fire shaking Raphael from his dream like state. The long tendrils reached out and seized her, pulling her roughly to the Earth. Crashing into the land with a resounding rumble that caused the earth around it to pulsate, Airtos stared directly at Raphael.

"Help me!" she pleaded, extending a hand towards him, the flames still writhing over her body like a snake trying to choke its prey.

Desperately, Raphael attempted to save her – sprinting forward until his fingers touched hers briefly…

At that moment, the earth gave a low moan and began to split. A huge crack emerged under Airtos and she was sent hurtling into the dark abyss that had formed. Her cries were drowned out by the thunderous sound of moving rock and Raphael could only watch in horror as his guardian – his angel – plunged to her death.

"Airtos – no!" he screamed, collapsing to his knees at the edge of the endless ravine. The world shook and Raphael was sent plummeting after his fallen protector.

As he descended, a sinister inferno surrounded him and in the flames he could see the faces of all those he had lost – his mother, father, his brother and most beloved sister…but that wasn't all. He could also see the people whose souls he had taken – their contorted features held in expressions of fear. All of them – lost in time and memory – Raphael could barely remember those he had duelled. There had been so many…

He was drowning in a sea of lost souls, Fated to fall forever…there was no one left – no one to save him.

Help me…

Intense green light surrounded him as the tiny fragment of the Oricalchos that he wore around his neck began to flare with an immense power that he had never before felt, casting away the provoking images of his past.

A deep laugh, rich and familiar filled the air, punctuated by a triumphant cry. From the shadowed blaze, Raphael could make out the outline of huge wings.

Could it be…Airtos?

As the figure drew closer, the light from the Oricalchos revealed not his Guardian, but a fallen angel – his new Guardian.

"Deathsythe…" he whispered.

"That's right, my child," came the same intense voice.

He closed his eyes as a torrent of emotions washed over him – shock, awe, sadness, relief…he wasn't sure how he felt. All he was truly aware of was the feel of the air as he cut through it on his way to the centre of the Earth.

"Oi – somebody like to tell me what's going on?" the thick accent of his comrade sounded in his mind.

"Varon?"

"Great – what now?" the bitingly sarcastic tone of his other companion filled his ears.

"Amelda?"

Eyes clouded in confusion suddenly snapped open at the familiar voices. They widened further when they noticed that as he was falling, so were they.

Varon and Amelda – could it be – could it be that he was dragging them down with him?

"You know, mate, this doesn't look too good for us." Despite their current predicament, the youngest member of Doma seemed surprisingly calm and relaxed.

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying…" Varon shrugged his shoulders.

"Varon, you are an idiot," Amelda retorted hotly with a look that showed that had he been any closer he would have gladly punched the younger boy.

Raphael wanted to laugh. Even in life or death situations the two never changed. Wait – life or death?

He felt unbearably hot all of a sudden and looked down. Towels of fire began to blast their way upwards, narrowly missing him by mere inches.

"Raphael!"

"Help us!"

He turned. Amelda and Varon had been swallowed by the flames, their faces twisted in pain, crying out to him like his brother and sister had so long ago.

My brother and sister…

He hadn't been able to save his family back then… Could he save his friends now?

Raphael closed his eyes. He was tired, so very tired. He could almost feel his soul being pulled from his body into the next world. Years of fighting, fighting to survive and fighting his past had taken their toll on the broad shouldered man.

I don't want to fight anymore…

And yet, he wanted to save his friends – his new family. They meant more to him than they could ever know. Yes, he acted impassive and constantly segregated himself from the rest of the group, but the reality of the situation was that he enjoyed watching them.

To Raphael, they were his younger siblings, no matter how much they fought, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, they – however much he had tried to fight it in the past – had grown important to him. So important, he refused to let them go.

The roar of fire echoed in his ears and Raphael wrenched his eyes open. There was no smoke, just the scorching heat of flames, the inferno burning his eyes. He reached out, blindly trying to find them, anyone, but it was useless. Their screams – their desperate crying reverberated in his mind but he couldn't reach them. He tried, struggling through grey smog that had appeared from nowhere, billowing as if blown up by some invisible storm.

Smoke and tears stung at his eyes and Raphael found himself choking while the voices grew even louder. A thunderous roar built up in his mind and Raphael suddenly became aware of a bright yellow light as the sound of a horn echoed through his mind, sending shockwaves through his body.

Almost at the last possible moment, Raphael seemed to snap out of his self-imposed daze, although his mind was only half awake and realised that he was still on a collision course with a huge lorry.

"No…" he whispered as his eyes closed to block out the blinding light. "I have to save them – have to save…"

---

Any icy gust of wind broke through Varon's morbid thoughts as it snatched away the would have been instrument of Varon's demise, flinging his now twice shattered bit of glass out of the hole in the broken window.

Varon, being as dense as everyone believed him to be, didn't think to just pick up another shard. The truth of the matter, however, was that nothing he ever wanted ever went his way. He didn't want just any shard – he wanted that one.

And it wasn't just because it had been the one that he had picked up first either. On closer inspection with the broken glass, Varon had seen that the fragment actually resembled a tear drop; it was his Heaven's rain from the only person who loved him – to him, it was proof that she cared.

Impulsively seeking back his newly found – and now lost – treasure, Varon leapt onto the window ledge and shattered the remaining glass with his fists, not caring about his hands, his blood or the burning. He wanted – no he needed – that shard. Taking a deep breath, Varon closed his eyes and jumped.

It was only then he remembered that his room was on the top floor of the tall building…

---

Dartz struggled for breath as he fought against the raging emotions that were sweeping through his mind, robbing him of his sanity.

Amelda, Varon and Raphael…his head throbbed with their thoughts, their feelings and their darkest memories. He had always known that they had tragic pasts, but not to the extent that death would be a relief to them, rather than face another night where they might be haunted by ghosts and demons of their youth.

"Raphael…" Dartz whispered as he sensed the desperation that had gripped the first of his chosen warriors.

He should have stopped him when he heard him leave the building. He should have stopped him, sent him on another mission, anything to take his mind off his past instead of letting him run free in the terrible storm that was hurtling itself across the dark night sky.

Dartz had grown up an only child, but even then he had never experienced the amount of unconditional love and understanding that Raphael and his siblings received from their parents and each other. His own parents had always been too busy with their duties to ever pay him any proper attention when he was younger and by the time he reached his teens he had been thrown into his studies and forced to learn the rules and regulations that he would need for when he himself became the ruler of Atlantis.

It was all protocol and obligation; there was no love in their words or actions.

But with Raphael…he could feel their arms wrapping around both him and his warrior through their link, the warmth and love and devotion between the close family and then suddenly it was gone. Snatched away ever so cruelly by Fate, their perfect family had been torn apart due to a storm that he himself had conjured.

How could he ever have done something so selfish and vindictive?

Suddenly, Raphael disappeared and something – no someone else stepped in to fill the void.

"Raphael?" Dartz blinked into the darkness that surrounded him, confused. He was losing his mind and his sanity was slowly slipping away from him.

The awful silence that was filling Dartz' mind was lost amongst a raging storm. Raindrops echoed on his eardrums as felt his whole body turn icy cold. As the sound grew louder, Dartz became aware of his heartbeat that began to fall into the same irregular rhythm of the rain which began to fall even harder in his head.

The pounding was soon joined by his pulse which seemed to soar in speed and he felt his entire body heating up. In fact, it felt as though his blood itself was on fire as it coursed furiously through his body.

Soon, Dartz became consumed with only one thought as he felt himself melting from the inside out.

Hell…

He could feel Varon's fear for this terrible place, and yet his could also sense his strange lust – his want to be surrounded by the torrid flames as if that would burn away all the bad and all the evil he had ever seen or been forced to be a part of.

This was Hell, his Varon's Hell, his Hell…it was Hell and there would be no escape for him.

Dartz shook his head violently, unable to believe what every nerve in his body was telling him; he had condemned Varon to an eternity within Hell.

Dartz closed his eyes, waiting for the sweltering heat and smoke to choke him and take him into the fiery abyss where dark souls filled with greed and envy were tormented ruthlessly. He felt tendrils of fire wrap themselves around his slender neck and then, nothing.

It felt as though his whole world had been dropped and shattered. All his desires, his dreams…in that one instant he felt them disappear along with any hope that he might have once had.

He gasped, but it felt as though his lungs had vanished. He couldn't breath – he couldn't feel anything! Thrashing in his bed, Dartz became filled with a blind panic. Darkness descended over him, and he found that he couldn't see – he tried to cry out, but he couldn't hear his voice…

Oh great Gods…

He was dying – he could feel it. By causing his warriors so much pain he was also destroying himself.

---

On a separate note;

Attention! Doma Arc Contest!

Due to the lack of stories about the Doomies, Huajun and I have decided to hold a FanFiction contest for the Doom Arc.

The contest has now officially opened and all the information can be found at the following webaddress: http/ doesn't work, please use the Link on my Profile or type it in!

Anyway, I hope you'll take a look at it and see what it's all about. Please, please, please contact us if you have any questions (our details are on the website).

Anyone can enter, so please do. The contest promises to be a lot of fun, so give it a go!

Thanks everyone!

But on the story side of things, please tell me what you think and look out for Part Three!

Oh, and in case you're wondering where all the friendship fluff and WAFF is, you'll have to wait for (probably) the final chapter! The third chapter will hopefully contain more character interaction as well!