Greece, Terrestrial Sanctuary – December 15, 2003, 4:00 PM (Dec. 15, 2:00 PM GMT 02:00)

Apollo and Athena were sitting on their thrones, still and motionless like the statues decorating this temple per thousands. Their noble composure was perfect for two representatives of the Terrestrial Sanctuary of Olympia welcoming unwanted guests.

Muffled footsteps were heard in the immense hall of the temple: unreal, almost worrying, they echoed from nowhere. The God and the Goddess kept still and motionless, staring straight ahead as two silhouettes emerged from the darkness of the colonnades. Apollo beckoned his guards to move away at a respectful distance where they couldn't catch the conversation. Then he came back to his motionless position, hands placed flat on his thighs, while his piercing glance roamed over the darkness of the temple. Now, he could see perfectly his two guests. They were both wearing dark velvet clothing - red for the woman, purple for the man – trimmed with the symbol of the Order, a strange interlacing of three Gothic letters. Their ageless faces appeared in their strangeness; the skin, so white – almost transparent – beneath which blue veins ran, was matching perfectly the silver gold of their silky blond hair. Coldness, as well as passion and calm were battling in their sky blue gaze.

James Gladstone and Eleny of Wessex, Great Masters of the Order of Ermengardis, stood in front of them. The man and the woman bowed before the two Gods: not a bow to the ground, as any human creature was supposed to do before two divine beings of Olympia. They just gave a slight bow.

“We greet you, Ô God Apollo and Goddess Athena!”

“We also greet you, Great Masters of the Order of Ermengardis…”

Apollo pronounced these words without returning their bow. Beside him, Athena kept still like a marble statue.

“Your messenger expressed us the emergency of this meeting. Can we have lightings on the reason of this haste?” asked James. His deep and solemn voice echoed in the Hall as if it was coming from a grave. Furious that the Great Master initiated the conversation, Apollo lost his inexpressive expression to fully display his anger on his face.

“Never touch again a creature of Olympia!” he warned.

Eleny raised her eyes in direction of Apollo. A sharp fang appeared on the pink of her lower lip when her mouth underlined a grimace.

“You are talking about Minotaur, aren't you?” she retorted vehemently, “We gave him what he deserved.”

James raised his hand and beckoned Eleny to calm down. “He has gone beyond the rules, My Lord…” he rephrased.

“Which rules? Not ours, anyway!” Apollo protested. He could hardly dissimulate the anger in his voice. He clenched his fist when his glance locked with the glare of Eleny. Two blue jewels, reflecting anger, were glaring at him without blinking. What impudence!

“The Rules that we agreed to respect, you and us. The rules that are mentioned in the Treaty! Does Your Highness have a so short memory?”Eleny retorted aggressively.

James gave her a pleading look, begging for her silence.

“The Minotaur had gone beyond the limits of its territory and had attacked humans. We had to put him back "in the right way"!” James added in an expressionless voice.

“You assassinated it!” Apollo boomed, losing his cold blood.

“No, we have just punished him. And it will be the same for any creature coming from Olympia or from any affiliated Sanctuary, who would overstep his rights!” James firmly stated.

“How dare you! You will be punished for this impudence!” howled the God, rising from his throne.

“Really?” James faced him without shaking. “And how will you punish us? Will you ask Chronos to use his power on us? We don't get old anymore... Perhaps, you will ask the Parks to cut the wire of our lives. As you know, it had been cut already, and we are alive across death,” he added, peering at the God with a threatening glare. “What do you think you can do to us? We are not human anymore… We are immortal!”

Apollo kept silent. He tightened his fist so hard that his articulations bleached and then sat back to his throne, containing with great effort his anger against the two creatures.

“Moreover, you need us,” added Eleny, throwing a glance over Athena. The Goddess couldn't help diverting her gaze. “The Gods of Olympia do not reign any more on the Earth… And thousands of parallel worlds are out of their control,” she added.

“The Great Terrestrial Sanctuary has always been happy to turn to Ermengardis to stop the hostile intrusions from underworlds on its territory,” James continued with an icy smile.

“What would you make next time that an army of demons will invade your temples?” Eleny added, glaring at Apollo again.

The God felt his blood boiling with anger on his veins. “You're nothing to the Gods of Olympia… Nothing else that wretched creatures!” he retorted.

“Wretched creatures, you said?!”

The face of Eleny changed in a blink of the eyes. The arcs of her eyebrows bulged, her blue eyes turned to a bloody red. Her face grew hollow and her mouth let appear pointed and carnivorous teeth.

“Eleny, no!!!” James seized her wrists to keep her from pouncing on the irritating God. The face of Eleny came back to its beauty and calm almost instantaneously. James turned again to the two divinities.

“God Apollo, Goddess Athena. May I remind you the agreement which had been signed between Ermengardis and the Sanctuaries of Olympia?”

“It is not necessary! Apollo and I know these rules, and we commit ourselves to respect them in the future.” It was Athena who had just spoken. She was now standing up right in front of her throne. “Great Masters of Ermengardis, we owe you apologizes,” she added in all honesty. Apollo threw the Goddess a disapproving look. “We will take care in the future that such incidents do not happen again.”

“Thank you, Goddess Athena,” answered James, giving a slight bow. “We appreciate.”

“The treaty states that the knights and the armors of Athena should return to Ermengardis, to help the Order to push back the malefic forces which would appear on Hearth,” Eleny stated, glaring at the Goddess. “However, the gold armors are still kept somewhere in the Terrestrial Sanctuary and very few of your knights have been authorized to join our Order!”

The eyes of Apollo flashed fire. How dare this creature claim the warriors of Athena - in other words, warriors of Olympia – and bring up in the discussion this unacceptable treaty, signed arbitrarily between the Sanctuary of Athena, Zeus and the Order of Ermengardis? A treaty that he, Apollo, would never accept! Unfortunately, Athena nodded approvingly.

“Because of some circumstances, I could not honor this agreement. However, we will quickly make up lost time, Great Master Eleny.”

“Shut up! Not a word anymore!” Apollo roared angrily.

He stretched an arm in front of Athena, notifying her to keep silent and obliged her to move back against her throne.

O

Eleny and James appeared on the steps, at the entry of the temple, standing cautiously in the shadows of the large pillars.

On the white marble steps, cold and impassive, all dressed in black suits, a hundred of their men were waiting for them. Two young women broke away from the troop and walked up the stairs. The youngest woman had a shock of flaming red hair while the eldest had long and slightly curled blond hair. They covered James and Eleny with two long black capes and then guided them to walk down the immense staircases. After few minutes, they reached a black limousine, parked on the main place, at the bottom of the staircases. The two young women helped their companions to get into the car, and followed them.

The limousine moved off as soon as the door got shut.

“What a joke!” Eleny exclaimed, tossing the cape back.

“Eleny, please! You should be more careful. Apollo is a God... Even if it can't do anything against us, he can harm Ermengardis,” James said, caressing one of her hands.

“Don't worry… If he were just a little cleverer, he would strike us in the staircases of his temple, in the light of the sun, where we are weak if not vulnerable,” Eleny mocked.

“And what about the Minotaur?” the red-haired young woman ventured.

“Apollo didn't appreciate that we burned it,” James explained.

“What are your orders now? What do we do from now on?” the blond asked.

“Carry on with your respective missions, like everyone in Ermengardis."

“The rules are the same for everybody, coming from Olympia or not!” Eleny concluded. She threw a last glance through the windows of the limousine in the direction of the hills of the Great Sanctuary.

O

Apollo was boiling of rage while remembering the poisonous words thrown by the Great Master of Ermengardis. No creature had ever made him such an affront without having to endure his ire! However, Eleny was not human. The Great Master was out of his control, out of his reach, and he could not make her pay her lack of respect. Not directly, of course. Nevertheless, he could show her how much he despised and hated Ermengardis. And also show to Athena that he wouldn't tolerate anymore that she takes a stand against him.

He threw a glance over a column standing in the middle of a place and decorated with stone bodies. The expression of his face changed from anger to an almost worrying joy.

“Cyparissias!” he called.

A guard approached Apollo.

“Yes, My Lord!”

“Cyparissias, tell Persephone that I am asking an immediate audience with her.

The Great Priestess of Ermengardis wanted warriors, knights of Athena. Her wish would be granted soon!

O

Less than one hour later, Apollo stood in front of Persephone, in her Palace of Elision. The place had been renamed in homage to the Land of Hades, destroyed by the saints of Athena during the last Holy War. He looked at the heavy doors that were opening slowly on the Throne room and walked with determination towards the throne, topped by a dark red platform. Behind the curtains, he could see the slender silhouette of a woman.

“I greet you my dear aunt!” Apollo declaimed, giving a quick bow.

“I greet you, Ô God Apollo, my nephew! What is the honor of your visit?” answered a soft voice.

“I come to propose you to avenge the death of your husband, Lord Hades, and by the same, send a strong warning to this dear Athena and the proud Order of Ermengardis!” the God stated pompously. Still hidden behind the thick curtain, Persephone didn't answer but Apollo felt he had all her attention. “You certainly don't ignore that this unbearable treaty, signed between my father and the representative of the human, the Order of Ermengardis, holds that Athena yields her knights to the Order of Ermengardis... I consider that the Saints and their armors belong to Olympia. It's definitely out of question that we let these warriors join this Order, led by those two monsters!”

“I am not sure I understand what you mean, dear nephew. How do you plan to go against the treaty? And especially, against the will of your father?”

“By giving to this stupid Order of Ermengardis other Saints. Those gold ones who had been punished by the Gods for their opposition against your husband, seventeen years ago. The foolish ones who were changed into statues and imprisoned in a stone column. The evidence that humans must not be opposed to the divine beings of the Sanctuary of Olympia.”

“You want that I bring back to life these men? It's out of question! They are partly the cause of the defeat and death of my husband!” Persephone retorted vehemently.

“Think, dear Persephone... What could be a worst punishment for these men than to be brought back to life, in an unknown and weak body? What forfeiture for those who believed they could challenge Gods! And, moreover,” Apollo lowered his voice and get closer to the throne. “Moreover, I leave you the choice in the way of making them return... Make them suffer as much as it will please you!”

France, Paris, January 9 2004, 11:00 PM (Jan.9, 8:00 PM GMT 03:00)

The building was quiet when Gabriel de Riveau came back home after a long working day. This 28-year-old young man was used to hard schedules, since he had joined the engineering and design department of a large car manufacturer. While many of his colleagues came back home at 5:30PM, Gabriel was used to stay at office later in the evening. Most of the time 9:00 PM, sometimes more, like this evening. Not surprising that his latest girl friend had sent him packing… But never mind! He wanted to climb quickly the steps in the hierarchy, impose his ideas and would give the means to.

Gabriel hung his thick coat on a clothes hanger, shaking the snowflakes that were hung there. Outside temperature had dropped in the afternoon, and it was now snowing. He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and sat down on the couch, a cognac glass in the hand, contemplating the snowy landscape of Paris. From his studio, he could see the roofs, all colored in white, and with some orange reflections created by the particular lighting of the lanterns. Overhanging the roofs, the Eiffel Tower was glittering with a loud red.

'Hum, I was right to choose this apartment,' Gabriel thought with satisfaction, 'only two steps away from the Champ de Mars.'

He sank back into the couch, tossing back his long hair and then took a mouthful of cognac. The liquid burned his throat, and he grimaced. A small inconvenience as he relaxed, a delicious heat spreading on his blood and body. The loud melody of his cell phone out of his dreams; on the white screen, the name of “Marie” was flashing in red.

He smiled. The beautiful Marie was calling him... Did she ever remember him?

“Hello!? Gabriel speaking...” He listened with delights to the soft female voice, inviting him to join her at a trendy bar where she was going to go from midnight. “Thank you, Marie; I think that I will join you.”

Gabriel hung up, definitely under her charm.

“A date with the beautiful Marie,” he repeated and then burst into a happy laughter, throwing his cellular phone to the couch.

Smiling and dreamy, he walked to the window and opened it. There was nobody in the streets and the atmosphere was quiet and calm. There was a kind of magic in the air that night. ‘The magic of snow?’ Gabriel wondered.

He looked at his clock. “God! I should think of what I am going to wear for the club!” he exclaimed. He suddenly heard footsteps behind him and turned around.

Gabriel didn't have time to say a word that an iron hand gripped his throat while another one seized his right arm. Caught by both pain and surprise, he dropped his glass, which fell at his feet. Gabriel tried to free himself, to no avail: the pressure was too strong on his neck and his arm. Who was the man who could maintain him completely still, like a puppet without strength? He didn't have time to ask himself further questions as he was projected in the airs and crashed against a wall of his apartment, falling down on the ground in a crash of broken racks.

Too dazed to move, he lay on the floor, hardly able to hear voices whispering around him. His ears were buzzing too much to let him catch even a word. Two strong hands grabbed him firmly and put him on his feet. Gabriel opened his eyes and saw his torturer who was holding him by the arms. He was incredibly tall, his body protected by a kind of leather clothing. Behind him, a woman with long black hair was looking at him, amused. She held a small amphora in her hand.

“Who are you? What do you-?” he raggedly breathed.

The end of his sentence died on his lips as he was hit across the chest. Pain was so violent that he couldn't even shout. The buzzing in his ears increased to the unbearable and everything became black around him. It was like if an invisible hand was pulling his mind into a large black hole. Fall was inexorable, terrifying… and endless.

“No!"

O

The young man's head dropped on his shoulder.

“He's unconscious, Mistress,” the colossus informed, turning the victim around so that he faces his accomplice.

“Poor... Poor Amalric!” the brunette moaned, stroking the sleeping face of Gabriel. Her left hand sank in the long hair while she kissed tenderly his lips. She slowly raised her head and stared at his face with surprise. “Isn't it the sweet face of Gàbor, brother of Bàlint?” she whispered and stared at her accomplice in confusion.

“It‘s a coincidence, Mistress. He looks like him, but it's not him,” the impassive behemoth replied.

The eyes of the young woman shone of a turbid light. She grinned strangely and stroked tenderly Gabriel's cheek.

“My beautiful warrior, I've never thought I could see you again... Will you forgive me one day all the pain that I've inflicted on you?”

She placed her hand on the nape of the neck of the young man and caressed it as to soothe the pain of an invisible wound.

“Mistress?" her accomplice called, trying to bring her back to reality.

“Yes, the mission...” she whispered.

She opened the gold amphora that she held in her right hand. Volutes of gold dust escaped, whirling around the engraved collar. The young woman closed her eyes and started to psalmody in an unknown language. She directed the amphora towards the face of the unconscious man, chanting quicker and louder. The volutes covered Gabriel's face, making it shining of thousand fires until their glare weakened, and finally disappeared.

“You're back among the livings, brother of Bàlint... My unfortunate lover.” The woman whispered before kissing Gabriel on the lips.

“Mistress?”

“We have to leave... We have to carry on with our quest... We must find Amalric!” she said, outlining a kind of dance. Her long dress and her black veils gracefully undulated around her slender body.

The giant in armor dropped the young man to the ground, close to the window. Then he vanished as if by magic, following the woman he called "Mistress.”

O

It was a cold air stream that awoke Camus. He opened slowly his eyes and understood that he lay close to an opened window, from which an icy wind blew. Through the pane, he could make out the shape of the roofs and a sharp orange light. He tried to move and gave out a cry of agony. His back, his legs and his arms were hurting as if they were broken. He felt blood running down his face and his cheek from a wound on his forehead.

“Where am I? In whose body am I?” The only thought that crossed the mind of Camus was that he was not back in his own body.

He didn't have time to raise more questions and lost consciousness.

Spain, Barcelona, January 9, 2004, 11:30 PM, (Jan.9, 9:30 PM - GMT 2:00)

Armando Delavega was tapping frantically on his keyboard, trying to fix the damn bug that had put his website down. The young man, citizen of Barcelona, had handed his resignation to his company to create his own IT business with two university friends. Three months had passed since the beginning of this adventure, and he had already understood that during one or two years, he would certainly spend his night there, in front of his computer. A perspective of life which didn't alarm him. After all, it was his own adventure, leading to a path of success in business... He was usually not alone as his two friends were also used to work late. However, this evening, they had for sponsorship hunting at one business Party of the Chamber of Commerce of Barcelona.

Armando caught the bottle of soda set close to his keyboard, not leaving the screen of the eyes. He looked around when he heard a noise, like a squealing, but there was nobody else but him in the small office.

“Armando, you're becoming paranoiac... Time to listen to some music!”

He rose from his chair and his head ran up against a small rack filled with books, above his desk. He sighed: definitely, this office was too small for his 6'1 feet... He couldn't wait to become wealthier and get a workspace sized for him. He caught some CDs on the rack, chose his favorite one and put it in the small CD player that he had brought for the long nights.

The voice of the singer and the electric guitars broke the silence of the office.

”How edge you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I' ve become so numb without a soul...(1).”

Relaxed, Armando went back to work.

Suddenly, his head ran up violently against the screen as an incredible strength pined him against his desk. A hand fell down on his back and maintained him immobilized. He tried to free himself, pushing on his front arm-levers, to no avail. Armando howled of rage and then of pain.

He felt a hard blow on his back, then blood coming to his mouth, invading his brain. Armando tried to breathe in but his lungs refused to work. His eyes were blurred as the blue screen of the computer darkened.

He felt he was sinking in a world of darkness and coldness.

Don' T let me die here

There must be something more

Bring me to life (1)

These words rang out in Armando's mind, before the darkness engulfed him.

O

“He lost consciousness, Mistress”, said the giant, stepping respectfully away from the body of Armando to leave way to the young woman with the long black hair.

She walked slowly to the body and put down the amphora close to the Armando's head. She leaned her head against the table and looked at the face of the young Spaniard, whose brown eyes, hidden by some black wicks, were still open. She stroked the dark hairs tenderly and started to laugh, delighted by this sick game.

The giant gladiator was looking at the scene, his eyes capturing every gesture of his Mistress.

The young woman suddenly stood up and opened the amphora, chanting strange words. Gilded volutes of smoke escaped from the amphora, whirling around the open eyes. Then they disappeared, like if the black irises of the unconscious victim had absorbed them.

The black-haired woman took the amphora and moved away.

“Come, Glaucus, it is not Amalric,” she declared with a crazy smile.

“Yes, mistress.”

The woman vanished in the airs. Glaucus was ready to do so when he heard the young Spanish groaning, sign that he was slowly regaining consciousness. Glaucus leant him against the file of the chair, in sitting position, so that he could take his breath. His last duty accomplished, he vanished as if by magic, without paying any more attention to the young man, whose head rocked gently.

O

Shura toppled over the chair and fell limp on the ground. He would have liked to shout: breathing was as much painful as frightening. An action he would have never imagined being able to do again. How has he ended up in this body? Why was he back to life?

Lights suddenly blinded him as he heard the soft melody of violins, followed by piercing clinks which twisted his brain.

He lost consciousness again.

Japan, Tokyo – January 10, 2004, 7:50 AM (Jan.9, 10:50 PM - GMT 09:00)

All the shutters were closed and no light filtered inside the office where James and Eleny were working. Eleny sat on one of the couches, reading newspapers with a close attention. James was at his desk, checking his e-mails. He had almost checked all of them when a new e-mail arrived, under the name of the Chancellor of the Terrestrial Sanctuary. If the heart of James had still beaten, perhaps it would have stopped: this kind of communication was completely unusual from the old Sanctuary of Athena. He opened feverishly the electronic message and became more and more fuming as he read along. He eventually banged his fist on the top of the desk, breaking the pane out of glass covering it.

Eleny started with surprise in front of the unexpected anger of her beloved one.

“What's going on?” she asked as she stood up and cast a questioning look at him.

He glanced at her, definitely in a dark mood.

“How can he do that?” he groaned.

Eleny walked to the desk and looked at the screen. Her face tensed up after she read few lines of the message.

“We have to contact our teams on the fields!” she declared as she grabbed the compound of the phone and dialed frantically a number. “Hello... Shina? Eleny speaking.”

Italy, Naples - January 10, 2004, 1:00 AM (Jan.9, 11:00 PM - GMT 2:00)

The young detective Lorenzo Mastroianni said goodbye to his colleagues. He was to leave the office when his boss, Police Inspector Tognazzi, hailed him.

“Hey! Lorenzo! Don't forget to comb your hair properly before coming to the office tomorrow!”

Lorenzo smiled to the joke. His disheveled hairstyle was the subject of frequent jokes from his colleagues, as well as various nicknames, like "porcupine". However, Lorenzo had never taken offence at them. He even found them funny.

“I'll think of it, boss! Ciao! A domani!” he said, waving a goodbye at Tognazzi.

He stopped on the steps of the police station and put the collar of his coat up, against his face to protect himself from the cold fog which was wrapping Naples. He was pleased that he didn't have to leave on a mission that night, in these frozen and dangerous streets that he knew so well. He drew a cigarette case and a lighter from a pocket of his coat. The light of the flame lit his face, unveiling two merry blue eyes and angular but handsome features. He drew a puff on his cigarette and covered of an absent-minded glance the court of the police station, hidden by the frozen fog.

This 27-year-old Neapolitan had practically never left his birthplace, except to make his class at the police academy in Rome during three years. The youngest child of a family of four, he had quickly learned to enjoy this city and also to be aware of its dangers. His parents had particularly taken care of the education of their children and made sure that they didn't fall into the hands of recruiters of the local Mafia. The beautiful city of Naples had suffered for decades from this gangrene and many classmates of Lorenzo had joined the “bad side” as of Senior-High or even Junior-High. Perhaps in reaction to what happened around him, Young Lorenzo had developed a deep sense of justice and had decided that he would join the police when he was adult. It is what he did at the age of 22, despite the opposition of his family.

Lorenzo left the courtyard of the police station and moved to the covered car park where he had left his car. There was nobody there and a mysterious and oppressive atmosphere surrounded the place. However, the young inspector was not impressed. Tall and firmly built, he also carried his gun. Two reasons for him to fear nothing. Relaxed, he walked slowly to his Alfa 156 and searched the key in his pocket. When he looked up, a young woman was standing up close the passenger side of his car, looking at him. Her strange blue green eyes were expressing nothing else but deep madness. She was not looking at him, but at the person who was behind him. It's the idea that crossed the mind of Lorenzo like a flash, and instinctively he groped for his gun.

A firm hand seized his armed fist and twisted it without effort. Lorenzo howled with pain and dropped his gun. Taking back control over him, he caught the throat of his attacker and tried to push him back. To his disbelief, it was just a vain effort: the giant who was in front of him didn't move back an inch. He eventually grabbed Lorenzo by the shoulder and threw him against one of the columns of the car park.

Lorenzo thought that all his bones were going to be crushed under the shock and collapsed to a heap, half-conscious. Darkness wrapped him soon and time became to be a very uncertain concept to his mind. Like in a dream, Lorenzo heard footsteps getting closer to him and felt that somebody caught him by the throat, raising him from the ground.

Then he felt an unbearable pain burning his chest, plunging him into the darkness.

O

Glaucus turned around to his accomplice.

“Ishara, Mistress!”

She came up slowly, waddling, inclining the head on the right and on the left, eyes set on the body lying on the ground. She knelt beside him, caressing his dark brown hair, then his face and lips.

“Amalric! My beloved Amalric, I won't leave you... Your pain will ebb soon,” she moaned, her hand now stroking the chest, rising thanks to a weak breathing.

She approached the gold amphora, similar to those used in Paris and Barcelona. The same bright volutes escaped from the amphora and whirled around the face of the victim. They disappeared by the same magic.

“The spirit has taken possession of this body,” the young woman announced while moving away from the body of Lorenzo.

“Yes, Ishara mistress” Glaucus agreed.

He raised the body of the young man and propped him against a pillar, sat on his knees, back against the wall.

“Come Glaucus, leave this man here. It is not Amalric... We have to continue our quest!” Ishara whispered. Her face was once again brightened by an expression deprived of reason.

She disappeared, followed by her trusty servant.

O

Death Mask felt coldness freezing his whole body. His body? No, it wasn't in his own body that he had been put in without care.

‘Whose body is it?' he wondered.

He managed to open his eyes and saw the ground. Gray, cold, wet. What was this place? Unable to stay in a sitting position, he toppled over his side and his head ran up against the asphalt. He tried to fight back the pain and the feeling of faintness, to no avail. He closed again his eyes, slipping in the darkness that frightened him so much.

NB: (1) Bring Me to Life music video by Evanescence from the album Fallen

Chapter 2