Author's Note : I'm BACK! Hooray, no more Year Twelve EVER! I got my results and everything – not half bad – and there'll be no more school ever! I didn't even fail Chemistry!
To absolutely anyone currently in their final year of school, work harder than I did. I was three measly points off getting a better TER than my older sister! But meh, I'm definitely getting into my Uni course, so what does it matter?
And now, to celebrate, yet another story in my usual style… long-winded. There's no pressure to review the intro, although I wouldn't mind hearing what you think about it, because I'm planning to post the first chapter, like, instantly.
A thousand thanks to Jynxfreak Neo, my brilliant beta reader, whom I have not e-mailed in at least over a month – I'm so sorry! However, considering I'm now a slack uni student, I'll probably be on the Net and on FanFiction more often (my God I have a high opinion of myself, don't I – imagining that people miss me!). I've also started a fifth Chrono Trigger story, although I haven't yet finished the fourth… so I'll be going on forever and ever! Bwa ha ha ha!
- ImaniaA Quick Refresher Course
I hate doing this but I don't want anyone, myself included, to be confused…Name - Number, Element, colour
Jandegar – First, Mage of the Sun, goldKerrelei – Second, Water Mage, blue Jhyskar – Third, Mage of Fire, red
Tarkyn – Fourth, Forest Mage, green
Tarreiz – Fifth, Mage of Vision, some kind of dark maybe bluish blackish colour
Ciaruse – Sixth, Mage of the Moon, silver
Kelke – Seventh, Shadow Mage, black
Schala – Eighth, Mage of Existence, purple
And in case you have no idea what's going on and where all these people came from, these are the stories included in what's becoming my Chrono Trigger saga:
1) Cats, Hair and Good Evil Wizards
3) The Seventh Mage
4) Minus Three Carat Gold
…A wind is blowing...
I feel it as I am in some way aware of everything that happens here, although I am powerless to stop it or indeed take shelter from it. I am the Mage of Vision, after all, and I'll be damned if I'm not going to be in touch with events. Otherwise I am useless, and I will not be useless. I loathe this wind that makes me helpless, unable to save any of us and by extension our entire Universe. I loathe this wind, this wind that blows despite my attempts to close the damn thing out.
No, it's not blowing, it's howling. There is, after all, no sense in doing things only halfway. Not a nice little breeze, either. No, this would be an open sea wind, the kind that sinks ships and raises storms. Cold. Biting. Malicious. Now, it's pretty hard for a wind to be malicious, but this one manages very well, thank you. That should give you some idea of the character of this wind, although they don't usually have characters, either. Or perhaps an insight into the character of the being that called it.
This wind is one of change, provided the change is for the worst. A wind of division, one that keeps pressing at those it touches until it finds a weakness. Not that this wind can be controlled. It is more likely to turn on any who attempts to direct it, with the one exception of its summoner. Not even this wind will bite the hand that feeds it, although it will happily tear apart any relationships that you care to name. It has already ripped us apart, a feat not difficult to achieve. It is not content with just us, though. No, it seeks to turn itself elsewhere and it will do so, dragging behind the one that thought to harness it.
Tucked away in my conveniently invisible tower in Jeraska where I can by no means be located unless I wish to be, having been exiled from Altrisiac on pain of death, I have a perfect view of the events that are yet to come. I cannot prevent any of them from happening. Having torn us asunder, the wind will begin to start on the group that recently helped us save this place, and will use us to ultimately destroy them. I am not immune to this wind. It surrounds me although here in my tower it cannot touch me. I can fight it for now, but I cannot keep fighting for long. Everything we have worked so hard to perfect will fall apart, and it is all due to the wind.
Not a black wind.
A gold one.