The Power of ONE (SkyBrine) []BEING REWRITTEN[]

~€ÏGHT~

*Dodges pitchfork*
PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!
*Dodges frying pan*
I'm really sorry!
*gets hit with a tomato*
I have no excuse! Just got busy, and lacked some inspiration!
*dodges a book*
*cough* ironic *cough*- anyway, I kinda got dragged into some other fandoms, and left this one behind...

But don't worry! I forced myself to finish some old stories I hadn't read all the way through... And it brought that inspiration back! I'm here, queer, and ready to steer. Steer this story in a good direction, that is!

So here's a chapter *cough* finally *cough* and enjoy!
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     With training week underway, us generals had been busy. We'd been training, working with recruits, assigning those unfit to other fields, and straining our leadership capabilities.

“We've been stretching ourselves thin this year…” I mutter, slapping a piece of paper onto the conference table. “And now THIS!”

The others look up in shock as I raise my voice. I never raise my voice, and I know it. But this is a special case. My team glances at me several times, reading the note. Their faces morph into horror the further they read.

“I want a talk. You're leader to one of my messengers, at midnight in the clearing. You have someone I seek, and I shall get them, or your kingdom falls. When they hear the name this is signed from, they'll know who I am.

~Flashlight Eyes.”

“Holy shit.” Mitch murmurs. Jerome nods mutely.

“Who is it?” Seto asks, glaring at the sheet of paper.

My eyes are narrowed, and my fists clenched. I know who it is, but I can't tell them that. If I do, it will be revealed that I'm the one being seeked.

“I don't know.” I growl. “But I don't take kindly to threats on my kingdom.”

“What do you intend to do?” Quentin asks.

“Do we meet them?” Ian adds worriedly.

“We… we have no choice.” I groan, sitting down. “I'll take my helmet and armour, and meet with this messenger.”

“What if it's a trap!?” Jason exclaims, worried. “What if their not alone, and bam! Our king is dead!”

I shake my head. “I'll be fine, he won't try that.” I slip, rubbing my forehead. “I'll just tell them we don't have the one he seeks.”

“But do we?” Jerome asks, fidgeting with his tie.

I shrug, not trusting my voice. Silently I leave the room, leaving my team to bicker over ways to search. It's already well after dinner, leaving me barely a few hours to prepare for this visitor.

If my assumptions are correct, I know exactly who it is. He'll send his messenger, someone I used to know. Someone who taught me the confinements of society that hold me in today. The rules that dictate who can know each other in this cruel excuse of a world. I've heard the End is more accepting, but I wouldn't know.

He's sending an Enderman, experienced in the language of my kingdom. The same enderman that, all those years ago, taught a young brine to veer away from dark magic. That taught that brine the rules of society, even knowing that he'd probably never see it.