(Foreword: Hello there. The story you are about to read is set in the FFXIV universe. Some things to note: This is NOT about the MC Warrior of Light. I do not know Japanese. I am new to the Lore, but I feel like I have enough of a grasp for this. If you see any errors/contradictions, just slide on into my DMs and let me know. Enjoy.)


Part 1: Samurai


Somewhere In The Mountains… - The Fanged Crescent, Othard


In a village with a name known only to its people, in a region so treacherous to cross and isolated from the rest of the Star that even Garlemald did not care to venture within, a child was born to a Raen family of Au Ra. Theirs was a simple house, no bigger or more impressive than any other, and like every other dwelling in their secluded village, it was gray. The skies, the stones, even the skin tones of many in the clan all matched this gray coloring. Thus, when the newest male to join the clan did so, coming into the world with a tuft of blonde hair, it surprised his parents, and grandparents. The elder couple were both Raen of many years, simple folk with simple skills. Their son had found a woman of the Steppe for his own, and while the rest of the isolationist Raen clan continued to spurn her, the addition of new life had, for the duration of her pregnancy at least, lessened the racism directed towards her. Even the staunchest isolationist rejoiced at the coming of new life.

She felt relief, as she heard her son wail. Her husband spoke animatedly with his parents as they quibbled over a name, and left the boy with her. She was instantly smitten, as most mothers are, the first time she took in his features. His horns and scales were primarily white, like his father's, and she was grateful. The village would have one less reason to hate him. They might even accept him, despite his heritage. Then, she noted two smaller nubs by the top of his skull, black as obsidian. The only sign that he was hers. He would be slightly different then, but she wasn't worried. Her mate wished to stay in this dreary gray hole for its safety from Garlemald. The empire was on the warpath, and it would not be long at all before they set their sights on Othard, and Doma, the land closest to their hidden village.

It was as the boy calmed, and opened his eyes, that his mother's heart sank. Any hope she had of him being normal, burned away in the golden light of the limbal rings surrounding his eyes. He let out a seemingly happy squeal, and his eyes flashed a bright light through the stone dwelling. Quickly, she held him close to her, but the light had caught the attention of her in-laws. When her mate tried to take him from her arms, she refused. His mother tried as well, using a soft approach, but his father, ever crotchety, stepped in. "Enough, woman. Show us the child." His surprisingly iron grip dragged her son away from her, weak as she was from delivering him, and the boy screeched at the lack of a gentle touch. He didn't care for pain it seemed, but that had never stopped the world from bringing it upon everyone in measured doses.


Eyeing the screeching infant, his grandfather scowled. "I see naught wrong with him...save for those black horns...but they will be smaller than his white ones. I don't-" His voice caught, as he'd adjusted his grip and held the baby under his arms. He'd opened his tear-filled eyes to glare at his grandfather, but the act of looking upon the world doomed him, and set his fate into motion. "By the Dusk and Dawn…" He said, as the boy's father and grandmother came to inspect him as well. He looked upon these strange faces, but the pain had stopped, so that was something.

His father took him then, and the infant seemed to like this better than the wrinkled and calloused hands of his grandfather. He turned to his wife. "His...his eyes...did they flash?" The Xaela woman looked down, but her mate was insistent. "Did they flash!? Did Azim's Light fill this house!?" She knew she could lie, but that wouldn't stop the superstitious Raen clan now. So, despite what she knew she was consigning her son to, she nodded.

They returned the boy to his mother, letting him feed as his tiny hands made grabbing motions. The three Raen left the domicile, and left his mother alone with him. He had no issues feeding, and seemed to be a pretty evenly tempered baby. He seemed very hungry, but that wasn't strange. His father was tall, and his son would likely be the same. His grandmother had already remarked at how he was the largest babe she'd seen in a generation. Her family had gone to inform the elders of their village as to the miracle which had occurred. In her Xaela tribe, the Oronir, he would've been heralded as a hero, a future and mighty warrior that would lead their clan to ultimate victory. She knew not how the Raen would treat him, especially this clan.


They were heavily superstitious, racist, and isolationist. Their myths were twisted by time and verbal retellings, since none had possessed the foresight to write their stories down. They had hints of the truth, but not the whole of it, as she knew it. They were different to the tales her own clan had zealously guarded, written, and rewritten, numerous times, but even those, she knew, had been twisted by time. None now remained who understood what the Au Ra's limbal rings meant, what their significance was, or their import. Every modern assumption was colored by clan practices, superstition, and oral traditions.

Finally, after several minutes of pondering, the door to the house opened again, and an older Raen came in. His horns curled like a demon's, and were more silver with age than off-white like most Raen scales. He still had many years to go before infirmity overcame him, but most notable of all was the sword upon his hip. The clan claimed they had practiced the art of wielding a katana long before the war-obsessed clans of Hyur and other races in Hingashi had begun diluting the discipline, and dulling it in the flames of constant wars. Though in this era the wars had lessened, the art had not recovered, mostly because only a few masters remained who understood the ancient techniques, and Magitek was rapidly becoming favored instead. This was not a problem for this Raen clan, but their isolation came at a cost. They could barely grow enough food to live in these harsh mountains, and had to often journey to the One River to trade with amiable Xaela tribes there. The journey was often overlooked by Yol nests, and the massive birds of prey had no qualms about swooping in on a party of Raen, but the Samurai of their clan were usually able to drive the massive birds back, if not kill them.

The elder gave the Xaela transplant a nod, though she knew respect did not come with it. She had never liked the leader of her new family's clan, for their racism and superstition stemmed from him. Moreover, he often had a harem of women, tossing aside those who bore him children, and taking his pick of the newest generations, willingly or not. The only others taught the sword in this clan were of his bloodline, as he claimed it was the strongest, and few of the miners and herb gatherers could argue with him on that point. As he noted her son's eyes, she saw his face light up not with joy, or pride, or zeal, but greed. Eagerly, he motioned to the oldest member of his harem, the woman he kept around either because he favored her body, or her usefulness. Likely both, as she was the tribe's healer, and could wield White Magic like no one else for miles.


"Here, Iyashi...do the Divination...I would know his future." The elder said, with a smirk. If her mate and in-laws noticed it, they said nothing.

"Place him here." Iyashi said, as she knelt beside the bed. The boy's mother did so, and Iyashi unwrapped him, eyeing his newborn body as she did. She chuckled, as she looked southward. "It seems Azim's blessing was not only in his eyes, eh Ozomashi?"

Ozomashi the Elder looked as well, and then snorted, clearly unimpressed, or not seeing the telltale signs the medicine woman had. "I care not for his chinpoko...just cast the spell, woman."

With a sigh, she did. The boy's mother looked on, ready to strike the woman and disrupt the spell if needed, until she felt the inherent warmth that came with astrally aligned magic. This was not a spell of harm, or darkness, and her child seemed to enjoy the white lights circling above him, as he made to grab at them.


As she cast, Iyashi's brow furrowed. "Much...of his destiny is clouded by the fog of choice...expected of an infant...but I do see...a Katana, glowing with power...an impossibly bright light...a good, and kind natured soul...and...a title?" She focused, and the swirling lights around him intensified. Then, she spoke a word. A word in the old Auri tongue that, they believed, came from the dragons themselves. Though in truth, it was the remnant of an old title that only Midgardsormr had ever possessed, and through that great dragon's pact with their very Star, now passed to one of her precious mortals. "Dovahjun…"

As the spell ended and Iyashi slumped, the infant made a face, as the lights vanished, but soon he was back in his mother's arms, and eating again, which calmed his displeasure. Ozomashi knelt beside his favored woman, and shook her. "What? What does that mean? What is a...Dovahjun?"

"It sounds like a name." The boy's mother said, causing all eyes to turn to her.

Iyashi shook her head. "The Divination implied it was a title...though I know not in what context, or what it means, nor why it's somehow tied to him...I only...it seemed to come from...beyond our Star. Somehow." She shook her head. "I will have to cast again once I consult the stars…"


Ozomashi waved her suggestion away. "Forget the title or name or whatever it is. Try to find that sword you mentioned...such a blade...I should like to wield it."

The healer shook her horned head. "Not here...we should let the family be together now." She smiled at the new mother. "I'm glad the newest member of our clan came out healthy. Enjoy motherhood, it is a gift."

The Raen family seemed to take their healer's words to heart, if not their leader's. The glint of greed in his gaze at the mention of a katana with power had him all but salivating. It was no secret that he'd wanted a weapon of power for some time. The now slightly larger family stayed close that night, and for many nights to come. Things were as average as one might expect in a family with two elders, and a very loud baby. For five years, their average life brought them happiness, but the boy's mother had always known that wouldn't last forever.


Five Years Later…


Whatever was occurring in the world outside of the little gray Raen village was of no concern to its isolationist inhabitants. The boy now known as Dov(D/Oh/v), whose name had been chosen based upon their healer's divination, had spent his early childhood as normally as everyone else. The village agreed that he had some kind of epic destiny, though what that might be, was speculation. As such, the other parents kept their children from associating with him, and thanks to his tall size and young age, he came off as 'slow' to the older kids. He had the energy of a Xaela, but true to his grandfather's prediction, his 'ears', which for Au Ra were the larger set of horns on their head, had grown larger than the now pointy black nubs that were not entirely uncommon in both Xaela and Raen tribe males.

Dov's mother had been pushing for the family to leave the superstitious village for years now, but after five had passed, and for reasons Dov was not privy to, his father had finally agreed. Oddly enough though, they refused to tell him where they were moving to, but he'd been excited all the same. The thought of leaving the village was an exciting one, he only hoped the massive forms of the Yol above them stayed far away, as they made their journey. The village had declined the use of their samurai to guide them safely, but the family still intended to go.

It was as they prepared to depart, that his mother's face finally broke. They then told him that he would be staying at the elder's home now, and training alongside his sons and daughters in the art of the sword. That had been the price of leaving. Ozomashi still believed he needed the boy to acquire his epic sword. The first time his mother had brought up leaving the clan to Ozomashi, she had vehemently declined the idea of leaving her son. Ozomashi had then used his influence to turn the village against the family. Dov only saw the tail end of their subtle but awful treatment, in how the other kids treated him. A few had tried to bully him, but he'd used his quick legs and taller body to avoid and intimidate.


They promised to return one day for him, as they departed, and Dov then began a chapter of his life he would come to regard with cold anger and indifference, as an adult. It all started when, as he watched his family depart without him, Ozomashi leaned down next to his ear-horn, and gave him his new name, the name by which most of the villagers would call him for the rest of his time there. "Their bones are going to be lining the nest of a Yol before they make it a mile away from us. From this point on, Doro, you will train under me, obey my commands, and master what I teach you. You will obey me, and you will protect this clan."

Iyashi had discovered that the best way to obtain the sword her chieftain sought was to train the boy in question in the art of the sword. She vehemently disagreed with how he'd gone about securing another pupil of his style of swordsmanship, but Ozomashi cared not. He intended to show the boy he had renamed 'dirt' only the bare minimum of swordplay.

He soon found, however, that Doro's natural talent for the blade surpassed every one of his own sons.


Several Days Later...


"Hakaze...is the art of swordplay. The blade wind. The most basic attack a Samurai can perform, it is one that flows into the Jinpu, or Wind Slash, with ease. Your Jinpu will be made stronger by your Hakaze. You must follow one with the other, if you wish to be truly skilled." Ozomashi droned on, as Dov eyed the wooden 'blade' he'd been practicing basic strikes with for days now, until his arms could no longer lift the heavy wooden bokken. His opponent was something Ozomashi called a 'wooden man', a complex training device that he'd taken from the Raen village carpenter who'd crafted it with the intention to learn martial arts, and not rely on the elder's samurai for protection.

The carpenter in question had met an untimely end, and Ozomashi had laid claim to this treasure of his now empty home first. That had been years ago, and the home was now filled by his eldest son, and his family. "Go on then, Doro. Show us what you have learned." Ozomashi growled, gesturing to the wooden man. Dov had seen how it moved over his first few days in the elder's home, but being in front of it was different. His Hakaze was flawless, but his Jinpu needed work. Still, he was willing to try. His fellow apprentices, most of whom were half-brothers, watched the outsider with varying degrees of amusement.

As Dov made his vertical slash against the wooden man, it began to spin, and he ducked, following up with the horizontal slash that was the second part of his Hakaze. Suddenly, he was on his ass, as the wooden man's lower arms spun, and knocked him there. The others laughed, but Dov was back in his ready stance in seconds, spinning up from the ground onto his feet once more. Ozomashi grumbled, but as he saw the determination in his newest student's eye, he let him try again. After all, each of his sons had had a similar experience their first time on the wooden man.


Again the vertical slash was followed by a horizontal one, but this time, Dov's tail was there, catching and then reflecting the spinning arm that came around to knock him over. The gathered kids watched this young Raen repeat the strikes, and he began shifting, spinning, or using his tail again to dodge. Once he had the Hakaze down, he shifted to his Jinpu. A horizontal slash from his top left to bottom right sent two arms spinning towards him, and he ducked them, as he followed it up with the secondary lunging stab that was a part of Jinpu.

He began dancing around the wooden man then, shifting between the only two moves he'd been shown, blocking, dodging, and then striking. Finally, Ozomashi's harsh voice broke the air, and Dov blocked the wooden man's latest strike, with both hands on his bokken's 'blade' as he ceased his attacks. "Enough! ...Enough." He stared Dov down, and the five year old Raen's tail swished, still tingling from blocking the wooden man's counter-strikes. "You may not be completely worthless as a swordsman after all, Doro. I was convinced your family of gatherers and miners would produce one as equally weak...but that blessing Azim gave you has also given you a knack for combat. I will teach you the Ozomashi Style...and you will defend this clan with it, until you die. Do you understand, child?"

Dov nodded, and then bowed in the eastern style, the only style he knew. "I will strive to do the best I can."

At that, Ozomashi smirked, and smacked one of his smaller sons with his heavy tail. "See? Even the outsider knows there is no try. Do! Succeed! Else you will fail. Now...pair off. We shall see how you do against an opponent with a brain, Doro."


Dov's opponent was Ozomashi's best student, and one of his older sons, in this generation of children. Dov could tell just by looking, that he was outclassed. He stayed determined though, as they faced each other down in their own corner of the courtyard, while their sensei walked between the groups, stroking his scaly beard as he watched for errors, and corrected them. Dov could feel his eyes upon them in particular, though. He was determined to make a good showing.

"I am Ichiban. I will be your opponent...but this will not be much of a match." The older boy said, as he took a perfect stance, both hands on his bokken. Dov fell into a crouch, and raised his own wooden blade beside his face in an amateur's approximation of a Gasumi Stance. Ichiban had maintained the basic Chudan Stance, holding his wooden blade with two hands in front of him, with the tip aimed at his opponent's throat and it was he who struck first, only to have his strike deflected as Dov brought his bokken around in an inverted and circular swing, sending the opponent's blade high, and following it with his Jinpu. A horizontal slash, followed by a thrust sent Ichiban to the ground in surprise, and then anger.

He was back on his feet as quickly as Dov had been, and this time, wasted not a single second as they took their ready stances again, and began slashing eachother with Hakaze, and variations upon it. This only meant that they varied which strike came first, horizontal or vertical, but neither could find an opening to follow up with Jinpu.


Then, Ozomashi strolled by them, and paused to watch, arms crossed. It was Dov's split second distraction from glancing at the old man that gave the admittedly skilled Ichiban his opening. Their Hakaze met, and locked, but the stronger boy forced Dov's sword into a circle, and then with a shift upwards, sent the bokken from his hands.

Ichiban did not stop however, as he brought his sword around to the ground, and struck his now weaponless opponent with an upwards vertical slash that made him jump into the air slightly. He then followed that slash with another vertical strike, downwards this time, as it brought Dov to the dirt. Ozomashi leaned in over him, as Ichiban smirked, and walked back to his ready position. "Get used to the ground, Doro. You will be kissing it frequently."

Being a generally chill natured Au Ra, Dov had never felt hatred before. He'd been angry, sad, lonely, and primarily happy in his short life, but hate...hate was new. He didn't enjoy how it felt, but in that moment, he felt it for Ozomashi, for Ichiban, for everyone who assumed his destiny was theirs to shape and control.

He turned his tiny head towards his 'sensei' and glared at the old man. "We'll see who is kissing what once I am grown...Sensei." He pushed himself to his feet then, retrieved his bokken, and then resumed the sparring match. Though he didn't know what it was called, Ichiban hit him with the Shifu, or Samurai Slash, three more times that day, and for years to come.


Ten years passed, and eventually, Dov lost whatever joy he'd known from his childhood. His life was gray and dreary, his training was useless, and exhaustive. Everything he learned, he picked up by dueling, and usually losing to the other students at the school comprised of Ozomashi's house and yard. He practiced the moves that Ozomashi showed his offspring, when the pervy old man was busy with his harem, and while their teacher constantly singled out Dov during training drills, the students simply avoided him.

Oddly enough, Ichiban was the closest thing he had to a friend, by the time he was fifteen. They'd been going back and forth on who had more wins between them for a decade, and even with his lanky teen body, Dov could put up a good fight. He'd grown rather tall for an Au Ra, and Iyashi said he'd be over seven fulms tall by the time he was fully grown. Ichiban had only been impressed when he'd discovered the apprentice named for dirt had been reverse-learning their moves, and with minimal instruction, Dov had picked up the Shifu, the Gekko or Moonlight Slash, and the Kasha, or Flower Wheel by sight alone, and had passably mimicked them.

There was a marked difference however, in Dov's strikes and those performed by Ozomashi's blood. Something about them caused their swords to trail with magic and empowering effects, while for Dov, his did none of that. His form eventually became flawless, but sakura petals did not accompany his Kasha, and the mark of the crescent moon was conspicuously absent from his Gekko. Ichiban refused to tell him why this was, but continued to train Dov all the same. Eventually, those 'good' times ended, with a drunken Ozomashi finding him practicing moves that 'weren't for his kind' outside of the usual grueling training exercises the old man put him through all day.


After that discovery, he'd doubled the exercises, and cut out anything even remotely related to sword training. Ichiban was 'promoted' and like his eldest brothers, found a home in the village to live at. His sword skills were deemed competent enough to guard the miners and gatherers and traders, and he left the 'school' with a Doman forged steel blade. Dov followed every command his Sensei gave, and over time, he found that his body was reacting positively to the constant training. His muscles became better defined, and he reached his projected height of seven fulms and one ilm by the time he was eighteen.

Three years had gone past without much sword training, that Ozomashi knew about. It was hard to steal away from his eyes, and the eyes of his newer, younger children who were only too eager to seek their father's approval by tattling on Dov when he stole away to practice his sword skills. This looked to be the way things would continue for another three years, until finally, something shifted. Dov was not aware why, but one day, Ozomashi approached him, and reduced his strength training to less than a fraction of what it had been for three years straight. Then, they retired to his room for tea, something that had not happened even once in the long thirteen years Dov had stayed 'under' his roof. While the other students had beds, and even rooms to themselves, he had been made to construct his own. He'd gathered what materials he could around the village, and gotten a few planks and boards for his trouble. Iyashi had given him two blankets, and that had been his sleeping arrangement, under the stars, rain, and even snow.

Even so much as peeping into Ozomashi's house had quickly been more trouble than it was worth for the young Raen, but by now he knew better. His rage at his Sensei had cooled in the intervening years, but that in no way made it less sharp. He pictured it as a katana in his mind, and each day, with each insult hurled at him, with every utterance of 'Doro', he'd honed his mental blade of fury to a fine edge.


Dov had long since learned to keep his expression neutral, especially around his 'teacher', and as they sat in his room, his special golden eyes did not wander, but remained fixed upon the man he harbored nothing but disdain for. Hating the old man had done nothing, but Dov was resolved to, someday, hold him to account for all he'd done to him, his family, and the others he abused from his position of authority. As they sat, sipping bitter tea, Ozomashi spoke first. "I do not know if I ever spoke of this...but when you were born, Iyashi cast a Divination upon you. She saw your future. We wanted to be sure your damned eyes were not a curse that would bring doom upon our village."

The only sign Dov gave of his eagerness to learn more of what his Sensei spoke of was the slight shifting of his now rather long twenty six ilm tail. Ozomashi continued, "What Iyashi found, was that you would be a swordsman, and a rather good one. I've done what I can for your skills, but I think it was the blade she divined you would be wielding, that would make you such a skilled warrior. Your skill leaves much to be desired. After years of searching, finally, we've uncovered where this blade is hidden. You will retrieve it, and give it to me, until I determine that you are fit to wield such a weapon."

Dov had never experienced such hate in his heart before that moment, as he stared at the old man. The only thing that gave away his inner fury was his limbal rings, burning brighter gold than usual, but that was not new or unheard of. Ozomashi seemed to read it as excitement. "Does this mean you will finally be teaching me sword skills, Sensei?" Dov kept his tone even, and unwavering. His face was as expressive as the gray cliffs around them.


Ozomashi sighed, tossed back a shot of Sake he'd brought with the tea, for himself and only himself, and glared at Dov. "Aye...the time has come. You're eating more than you're worth. The sooner you're out there slaying Yol and protecting our clan, the sooner I don't have to feed your overgrown body. Tomorrow, we will make for the cave where this blade lies. Your blood will likely open the way. We need not much of it, but it is still required to lift whatever seal has been placed upon the sword. Once you retrieve the blade successfully, we will begin on the other sword skills." Ozomashi took another shot then, his wrinkled face flushing red as the drink did its work. "Understand me, Doro. Your skills will never match those of my blood. Theirs will always overpower yours, no matter how hard you train, so do not seek to surpass them..."

Dov kept his face neutral as he resisted laughing. He'd seen Ozomashi's latest crop of students, each borne from women of Dov's age, who by rights he and others in his generation should've been courting. At the rate Ozomashi reproduced, inbreeding would become a real worry before too long in such a small clan, but the old Au Ra seemed not to care. When pressed on the issue by the female's parents, Dov had heard him claim such a thing would only make them stronger, even though the Raen clans were well aware of the dangers associated with such practices. Ozomashi had evidently not bought into the histories and knowledge gained by his ancestors.

Dov tried sleeping once the old man tossed him out, but all he could think of was what Ozomashi would do with this blade of destiny he'd forced Iyashi to find for him. Of all the people at this school, Iyashi was the only one who he actually liked. The other females avoided him like a plague, so he assumed his features were unappealing, but the now middle-aged woman had always treated him with kindness, bandaging his wounds, and telling him of secluded spots he could practice in that Ozomashi avoided. He knew she'd likely been forced to use her White Magic repeatedly to track down this blade of destiny, and he only hoped it hadn't taken too much out of her. Feeling a sense of dread, Dov moved from his self-made wooden hovel outside the main house, and climbed stealthily up to the window of Iyashi's room. What he saw within made his blood boil.


Lying seemingly unconscious was the now middle-aged woman, being attended by the younger women. What he didn't see, was one of Ozomashi's harem sitting by the window, who noticed him peek in with his rather large head. She was older than him, but did not raise the alarm. "You should go back to sleep, young Dov. Iyashi will be alright. She is just tired from spellcasting all day."

"Right...sorry...I just...wanted to check." He said quietly, before doing as asked, and descending. He curled back under his tiny wooden shack, and once more, tried to balance the hatred he felt for Ozomashi with his generally kind nature. He briefly wondered if he should take whatever sword they found and use it upon the old man, but that would only make him a criminal to his people. The old bastard wouldn't live much longer anyways, and he still needed to teach Dov his techniques, as agreed.

He spent the rest of that cold, gray night contemplating how to keep the greedy old pervert from attaining a weapon of power, until he finally fell asleep. The next day, as was his wont, Ozomashi did not rise until noon. Dov had spent the time waiting practicing his sword strikes, and while he knew the younger apprentices had again tattled on him, he found he no longer cared. He was rapidly tiring of this way of life. This village. These people. Despite his mistreatment he'd never actually contemplated leaving, until Ozomashi announced his intention to literally take control of his destiny. Each time he'd so much as thought of leaving the village, the image of his family departing, and their bones lining the nest of a Yol, had filled his thoughts.


Ozomashi eventually appeared, and while he seemed ready to berate Dov for using one of his bokken to train openly, for the first time in three years, he simply snatched it from Dov's hands, and bid him to get ready to leave. Ozomashi brought only his own katana with him, a blade also from Doma, and likely from the same swordsmith as the others he gave to his graduating students. None of the Yol bothered them as they traveled deeper into the mountains of the Fanged Crescent, and they traveled for half a day before finally finding the cave Ozomashi claimed held the sword tied to Dov's destiny.

Once inside, they found a wall, with strange runes carved into the rock. Just looking at them made Dov's head swim, and he felt his very soul ache as his eyes took them in, though he knew not why. "Here, boy." Ozomashi said, breaking the total silence of the area surrounding the cave as he passed Dov his katana. "A cut to your palm should suffice." Dov took the blade with a nod, and unsheathed it, only to hesitate, as he looked upon the runes. Seeing him pause, Ozomashi's gravel-like baritone broke the silence again. "If you don't draw it yourself, I'll draw it by force. Hurry up."

"Maybe we shouldn't…" Dov said, as he looked at each rune. Each one his eyes took in gave him a feeling on the back of his neck scales. A feeling of trespassing. Of something better left untouched by Man. He hissed, as he felt his hand be sliced by Ozomashi's katana. His 'teacher' had drawn the hilt from the scabbard, and in so doing, drew the fine edge along his palm.

He leaned in close to the younger, but taller Au Ra. "Open the damned wall...I want to be back in time for supper."


Despite his instincts, some deeper inexplicable part of him warning that this was, potentially, a bad idea, he smeared his injured hand along the rock. The runes glowed, and a strange voice echoed in the heads of both him and Ozomashi. A language neither of them knew, a warning few mortals would even comprehend, let alone understand, in this era. The strange aethereal tongue repeated its message, which to Dov seemed to sound very much like a warning, twice, before it ceased. The runes glowed then, and a semi-oval of stone acting as a door slid into the ground, revealing the secrets within.

Ozomashi brought his torch forward, the greed obvious on his wrinkled face. The scene before them was simple, and ancient judging by the stale air that now rejoined the modern world's flow. A vaguely katana shaped object was lying on a simple stone altar of some description. As Ozomahsi reached for the ancient cloth covering it, it turned to dust. His hand paused, and drew back. Whatever had been depicted on the cloth was now lost to time, but what it covered seemed untouched by its passage. A long, black scabbard, covered in gold filigree lay beneath the dust, and along its rounded edge, the gold-colored metal was as sharp as any katana. Ozomashi reached for it, before Dov could so much as speak a word, and then, a miracle occurred.

The greed-driven Raen's hand passed through the blade, scabbard and all, and retracted, unable to lift it. Several more times he tried, and several more times he was denied his prize. He stepped out of the cave, howling with fury as he moved to the opposite wall, and punched it until his knuckles were bloody. Dov took the opportunity then, as the old man lamented. "An illusion...naught but a damned illusion...all that time and effort, a complete waste…"


Dov had a very different experience, as his hand, the one he'd cut, touched the blade and found it to be quite real. The sheathed hilt began glowing a gold as bright as his eyes, and as he lifted the sword, which he realized was the ideal length for his impressive height, he noted a strange sun-colored crystal beneath it. His free hand moved to grab it, and as he did, time stopped. Another voice echoed in his head, as he realized his Sensei was frozen like the rest of the world. This time however, he understood what it said, if not the actual words it was using.

"At last...one who is worthy...finds the blade…"

"Reveal thyself!" Dov said, but nothing appeared.

"This...is the Blade of the Goddess. If you take it up...you will be...among Her chosen."

Dov whirled, as this time, the voice had a source. Behind him. He turned to see a strange, fuzzy outline of a creature, not unlike how one would expect a ghost to appear. It seemed cloaked and hooded, and what lay beneath the hood, he could not say. Moreover, it was massive, even taller than Dov. "Wh...what Goddess? Nhaama?"

"I know not...your gods...I speak...of the Mother Crystal. Of Hydaelyn. My time...wanes. You must...choose."

"How am I to choose with so little information?" Dov said, and the figure shuddered, as it laughed at him.

"Look...to the crystal…" And with that, it was gone, fading away as if suddenly broken into fourteen numerous pieces, before vanishing entirely.


Dov looked to the crystal in his hand then, as he felt time beginning to flow once more. It was an orange-gold color, and in his palm it glowed with the intensity of the sun. A symbol was carved into it, and as he stared at it, he felt the power within resonate with his own being. Though he had not the words or the learning to describe a coalescence of so much condensed aether, he knew what he held was magical.

The symbol upon the crystal was one his clan used, one that all peoples used, or so he'd been told, for assigning names and meanings to the stars. This one, a circle with a pair of dots on the circular line surrounding the main, central dot represented the sun. Bisecting the shape, was an S-like line that connected the two dots, and met at the centermost one. As he stared at it, he felt the strange being's intentions for the sword, though he knew not how. This was a blade meant to protect the weak, to aid those in trouble with its power, and to empower the one who used it to ever greater heights. There was more, a vague fear of a rising threat, but he could not clearly divine what it might be.

As Dov felt time begin to flow once more, he spoke to the crystal. "I accept."

It sank into his palm, then, and the light that accompanied it moved through his body, suffusing it, and then gathering in his other hand, the one holding the katana. He heard Ozomashi gasp, as the old Raen turned, and saw his 'student' glowing with power. Fury overcame his face, but Dov was beyond caring. His hatred had been replaced with a serene calm. His mind was like an untouched lake surface that not even the bastard who'd ruined his childhood and likely sentenced his family to death could cause it to ripple.


As Ozomashi approached him, grabbing his shoulders, and shouting into his horns about how he was doing what he was doing, Dov noted that the bottom part of the blade's hilt now had a crystalline protrusion. It flashed at him in what he felt was a wink, before the light faded, and appeared to all eyes to be just another piece of the hilt, no different from the seemingly golden metal that covered the scabbard.

"Speak, boy! Doro! Snap out of it!"

Dov blinked, as he heard the name he despised. It brought his anger to the surface, but even that seemed dull now. More irritating, than anything else. "I...I hear you Ozomashi." He said, as he blinked, and feigned being stunned. "The sword...it...it's bonded to me. It could only bond to me. It seems my destiny is not for you to usurp."

Rage overcame Ozomashi's features, "You pompous- ungrateful- I ought to skewer you!" He said, drawing his blade. Before he could blink, Dov had drawn his own, and that act made the elder Raen pause. Like the hilt, in Dov's hands, the katana's blade glowed with a golden light along the length of the unknown metal. Its composition seemed otherworldly, and more than a match for folded Doman Iron.


Dov's hands moved like lightning, and in a flash, Ozomashi's blade was clattering on the stone floor, the katana in Dov's hands now with its razor sharp tip grazing the old Raen's neck as it hummed softly with Light. "No more, Ozomashi. No more will you belittle my skills and my heritage. You will call me by the name my mother gave me. You will show me respect as a swordsman. You will teach me what I have yet to master, when we return home. Once you do this, I will use this blade to defend our clan, and you and I shall not speak again without greatest need. Nod, if you understand me, you who have failed as a Sensei."

The rage battled the fear in the old Raen's cloudy eyes, and finally, the fear won out. To Dov, that proved he was as craven as he'd always believed the man to be. He sheathed his blade in one smooth motion. "Good. Now let us head home...I'll be sleeping inside tonight, and I'll be taking the same portion of food as the rest of your foul brood. Do this, train me, and I may yet let you hold the sword, and even use it, before you pass from this life." What he didn't say, was whether or not the sword would let itself be held, but he could worry over that later.


Ozomashi was quiet on their trip back to the clan, and he was quiet in the days that followed. Moreover, Dov found his blade skills now had powerful and magical flourishes tied to his strikes, and he surmised that Ozomashi had, somehow, crafted a similar magical gem for each of his sons. It was no wonder he'd never bothered to give one to Dov, or any other of their clan not related to him.

As agreed, the old man showed him how to perfect his strikes, and though Dov sensed there was a flow to them, an order of sorts, his reluctant teacher refused to tell him what it was, opting instead to focus on precision and perfection that samurai were known for. Over the next year, as Dov seemed to rise and flourish into the spring of his youth, winter came for Ozomashi, as he fell ill more frequently.

One day, when he was particularly bad, he summoned Dov to his room, and croaked at him. "The blade...you promised...I might wield it...if this is my end...that time is now."

As much as he disliked Ozomashi, Dov found himself remembering the small kindnesses in his seemingly final days, and he answered his request with a solemn nod. "You have much yet to show me, Sensei...but as I promised, you may hold the blade." He felt a shift within the blade, bound as it was to his hip, as he spoke the words.


The old man offered a gnarled hand for the hilt, and Dov held the scabbard horizontally over the old Raen as he gripped the handle, and drew the sword. The light that was a part of it did not shine in his grasp, until Dov also touched it. Then, Ozomashi gasped. "I...I feel it...the Light…your Light…" His eyes closed, and actual tears fell down his wrinkled face. "Forgive me, boy...I have treated you terribly. You are one of the most skilled pupils I have had...but my pride refused to allow me to see that...until this moment."

Color returned to the old man's face, and the females attending him murmured something about miraculous healing, before making warding signs in the air, and backing away out of fear. The two swordsmen locked their gazes. "There is...a technique I would show you...all of you. A secret passed down...from my Sensei...so very long ago. I feared one of you might use it upon me...but the time has come...to pass it on. Help me rise, Dov."

Dov's eyes widened as, for the first time he could ever remember, the old man used his actual name. He helped his sensei return to his feet, and the old man hobbled out of the room, with the ancient katana drawn, as he used the scabbard like a cane. Within minutes, his sons had gathered from around the village, and though the katana had stopped glowing, the old man was able to hold it, at least for the moment. He sheathed the blade as all of his students, including his eldest son, Saiko, Ichiban, and the others who had reached maturity, and made a home in the village arrived. None had made their dwellings far from their father, and most of the samurai lived either together, as they had in training, or alone, for most of the women were claimed already by their father.


Ozomashi addressed his gathered students, the majority of the military might of their tiny settlement, isolated in the mountains. "What I am about to show you...is a technique the old masters of Hingashi have all but forgotten. Those of you who have graduated have learned the Higanbana, or Hell Flower Strike, and Saiko, you have mastered the Five Swords Under Heaven, the Tenka Goken." The old man paused, as he coughed heavily, before spitting out a glob of phlegm that only had a few drops of blood within. A sign of healing, as he'd been coughing up worse for months. "There is another level...the final level...the most powerful strike my master knew of, created in the crucible of war by our eastern neighbors. Midare Setsugekka. Seasons in Chaos."

Finally, the old man's eyes turned to Dov, whose sword he was using. "You have yet to be shown the Iaijutsu, Dov but my sons will teach you, for...I am too old for this. This might well be the last time I ever use this technique...watch well, and learn." Dov nodded, and the nod became a bow. The rest of Ozomashi's students bowed as well, and then rose, watching their sensei intently.

The old man brought the scabbard to his hip, and his right hand gripped the blade. Tao felt an odd tingle, as if some of his essence was being used to empower whatever technique Ozomashi now attempted. He had a simple but sturdy wooden block before him, the better to demonstrate how finely the Midare Setsugekka could strike through wood. "To use the Midare Setsugekka… you must build up your momentum with the Sen of Snow, Moon, and Flower. Only then, can you find the disturbance between all three…" The ground around the old warrior turned icy as he drew on the power. The borrowed blade glowed an intense white-gold as Ozomashi focused his Sen into it. "And strike!"


The gathered students let out a combined noise of surprise as their sensei struck, drawing from the scabbard in an upwards diagonal slash whose golden remnant hung in the air as the old man spun clockwise into a horizontal slash that left a similar golden crescent hanging in the air, as he sheathed the sword again, and then fell to a knee. Suddenly, it passed through his hand as the move ended, and Dov was glad for that, though he hid it well. It seemed his blade knew, somehow, that demonstration had been necessary, but Ozomashi remained unworthy of keeping it.

Dov looked up, as the board Ozomashi had sliced through fell into three separate pieces, and his sons clapped, as Dov helped him stand. The old man nodded his thanks, Dov gave him a single nod of respect in return, and then joined the ranks of the other students. He towered over most of them, but his attire was the same gray training gi as everyone else's, save that his was two sizes too small, and worn from years of use. Ozomashi had gotten tired of getting him new ones, and had refused to commission something that would actually fit him.

Ozomashi returned to bed then, and over the next several weeks, only declined further in health. The eldest son, Saiko, took over as sensei, and instructed his younger half-brothers in the art of the sword. The females that Ozomashi had yet to procreate with among his harem were returned to their families, and those who had been subject to his lust, but had not conceived, left on their own. Quite a few left the village entirely, though from what Dov heard, their looks had been enough to convince several of Ozomashi's older sons to escort them to the One River.


Saiko was stern, like his father, but unlike him, he actually taught Dov. Years of bad habits learnt from being mostly self-taught were ironed out under his tutelage, but the stern samurai kept a social distance from him. Dov had a room now, and a bed at least and Saiko did not complain when the large Raen had an extra bowl of rice.

Within a week he had taken the place of strongest swordsman among the clan, swiftly defeating each of Ozomashi's sons with a bokken. While he perfected his strikes and slashes, Dov also learned of Meditation, of Kenki, the energy a samurai filled their blade with, and though he pushed for more techniques, all Saiko had left to show him, apparently, was a Certain Kill technique, something he'd called Gyoten, or the Dawn's Charge.

After he had mastered it enough to Saiko's liking, the eldest son of the dying old Raen, who was now spending his days more asleep than awake, had called Tao into his room. The decor hadn't changed much, and Tao realized it was Ozomashi's old room that Saiko had taken for his own. His mother, Iyashi, had joined them as well. She looked much happier, as most of the mothers at the school did these days, and had a folded red cloth, a garment of some description in her lap.


"Dov...thank you for coming. Mother has just been catching me up on how my father has treated you these long years. Though I've shown you what I can, it is clear to me, and Mother, that you would do best in Kugane, learning the various techniques of other swordsmen." Saiko sat on his knees as he spoke, and sipped his tea. Unlike his father, there was no Sake accompanying it.

Iyashi spoke then, offering him the garment. "Your destiny has always been outside of the village, young one. Take this. It is an ancient garment worn by Ozomashi's master. It is too large for anyone here, save you. There is power in it...it will guard you well, but you would still be wise to find armor to wear beneath it."

Dov bowed deeply to Iyashi, before taking the garment. "I'm honored...thank you." He turned and stood in one smooth motion, disappearing behind one of the privacy screens in the room as he tossed his torn, smelly gi aside, and traded the gray for crimson. It was a haori, in the ancient style of Doma or Hingashi. Black flames curled about the bottom of the garment, and it came with a velvety black scarf that had a crescent moon embroidered upon it.


"What is this symbol upon the back?" Dov asked, as he examined it. A circle, split in half by an S shape, not entirely unlike the aetherial stone that was now part of his sword's hilt. One half was gold, the other was black, and two smaller spheres of each color were present in the opposing half.

Iyashi was the one who answered him. "A symbol representing balance, between darkness and light. The gold is meant to symbolize enlightenment."

Dov stepped out from behind the screen, as he belted on his katana. "But I have not reached any sort of enlightenment…"

The old woman rose, barely coming up to above his waist as she straightened his attire out. He looked very much like a samurai, and now that he wasn't perpetually filthy, his handsome features were much more visible. Iyashi parted his golden locks to either side of his face, and then nodded. "That will do. There is magic beyond my ken in that garment...treat it well, Dov. Wherever you go."


Several days later, Dov and Saiko left the clan, along with two other samurai, who were helping the gatherers and miners reach the One River, and would guide them back. Dov and Saiko would be going further east to Kugane, where Saiko claimed Dov would be able to learn more techniques, perhaps even a few they didn't know back home, before returning. That was what he'd been told, at least.

They arrived after a week of travel, and made their way to one of Kugane's larger towers. Within, Dov was told to demonstrate his prowess against the samurai there. They didn't look like any samurai he had seen, but then, this was his first time out in the world. He had not seen many foreign swordsmen. They proved to be ridiculously easy to beat, and Dov had to use the back of his glowing golden blade to take them out. It was after one such bout that a voice echoed from a room above the dueling field. It seemed finely furnished, with furniture Dov had never seen the like of, back home. Saiko was standing beside the figure, whose features he could not make out, from below.

"Why do you not finish your opponent, Raen?"

Dov arched a brow at the black silhouette. "This is a spar, is it not?"


The figure turned to Saiko then, and Dov did not hear what they discussed. His eyes narrowed further though, as he sensed something amiss. One of the attendants in this building, a Hyur in a revealing purple and gold Kugane style dress, guided him back to his waiting chambers. He'd been there for three days now, and had been content relaxing in the in-ground heated tub, and lavish foreign bedding. Now, he wondered if he might not actually be in a prison with nice surrounds.

He poked his head out the door, to find two Roegadyn in black suits with black glasses over their eyes staring at him. Eaach had blades upon their hips, not exactly uncommon in Hingashi, but unnecessary for a 'guest'. "Need somethin'?" One asked, and Dov shook his head.

"Just peeking around." He quickly moved back into the room, and fought down the sense of panic rising within him. One hand moved to his sword hilt, and it glowed reassuringly, as he felt the mind-clearing calm fill him once more. He turned, and casually strode to the balcony attached to his room. Once outside, he leaned nonchalantly on the railing, and glanced down. There were more guards there, too. But, he noticed, several were men he had already beaten. Beyond them was a small fenced in yard, with a gate he could easily jump over, and from there, freedom. The only home he'd ever known was very far behind him. The world was ahead.


He stared for a long few minutes, taking in Kugane, specifically which streets seemed to lead where. Making his decision, though still somewhat hesitant, he tied together the sheets of his ornate bed, and from them fashioned a rope. He tied it tight to the sturdy water spigot that filled the man-made hot spring, and then perched upon the balcony. Giving his 'rope' a final tug, and checking each of the knots, he leapt down from the balcony, in a way that sent him swinging towards the guards. He landed hard, knocking down the two he hadn't faced, a pair of similarly black clad Hyur.

His blade was a golden blur, as he struck the other two guards, crumpling them with their own blades half-drawn. He hit the two he'd knocked down on the head for good measure, and then turned to face the gate to freedom, only to find Saiko standing there. "What are you doing, Dov." He said, as he knew full well the answer. The recording devices in his room had captured him plotting his escape, and Saiko had been sent to stop him. Without him, the Kugane Warlord had promised, their deal was off.

"I...am leaving." Dov said, as he nodded, mostly to convince himself of his new path.

"No, you are not." Saiko said, drawing his own blade. "You will stay here, you will be the Boss's bodyguard, and the Gil will go towards fortifying our village. Or whatever else I wish to purchase with it. We spent years training you, you owe us."


Dov's eyes narrowed. "Your father treated me worse than discarded refuse. Your brothers regularly beat and insulted me. The only redeeming thing about that village was your mother." His eyes narrowed. "Does she know you're trying to sell me into slavery?"

Saiko flipped his spiky bangs out of his eyes. "She knows all that she needs to. This was always the plan, from the moment Father realized he could never own your sword. Return to your quarters, Doro. You belong with the filth inside."

Dov's eyes twitched as he heard the name he despised, and rising from his mental lake of calm, was the blade of cold hatred he'd intended for Ozomashi. He took a deep breath, and fell into a crouch, as he sheathed his blade. Saiko did the same, and the two Raen snarled at each other. "I always knew it would come to this...I hoped it wouldn't, when your father became bedridden...I would rather be facing him."

"Of course you would, Coward." Saiko answered as they inched closer by sliding their open-toed sandals towards their opponent, ilm by ilm. "You desire the easy victory."


"No." Dov said, glaring. "I wanted to pay back the treatment he gave me...it seems the son must pay for the father's misdeeds. So be it."

Silence fell between the samurai, as they came within striking distance of each other. In the distance of Kugane, a door slammed somewhere, and that was the signal that launched them at each other. Their blades screeched as each used Gyoten to close the distance. Dov proved to be slightly stronger, and pressed his advantage. Saiko tipped his blade, trying to make him fall in the direction he was pushing, but Dov backed off. Steel sang as they each struck with the Hakaze, but their next choice of strike was different.

Dov used his Jinpu, as Saiko opted for Shifu. Dov's upwards diagonal slash met the jump-assisted vertical slash as he dodged the first strike of the Shifu by mere ilms. Again their blades screeched, and again, they used different strikes. The Kasha from Saiko struck at him horizontally, but Dov's arms moved in a crescent half circle around the strike, and met it with his own horizontal slash.


Saiko followed his Kasha's opener with the second strike, jumping again to gain power for it, but Dov was faster, as he spun counterclockwise into a horizontal strike from right to left. This time, he hit the mid-air form of Saiko, and sent him sailing into the grass. It was a sickening feeling, slashing into someone else, and Dov regretted that it had been a clan member who had first bloodied his golden blade. Saiko's wound was serious, but Dov knew he might yet survive, this close to a rich man who likely had healers in his employ.

He dragged his sword across the crook of his left arm as he glared at Saiko. "My service to your clan ends here, Saiko. I renounce my ties and my name. I renounce everything they are...I won't waste another second of my existence working for a clan that spits upon me." He sheathed his sword then. "Do not look for me. I won't hold back against whomever you send."

With that, Dov began sprinting for the complex gate, as the doors to the building slammed open behind him. Arrows wizzed past him, and in a flash his blade was out again, as he slashed them in mid-air. Some onlookers had gathered to watch the brief but explosive duel, but he ignored them now that they were safe as he leapt, and used the gate's bar to propel him further into the air, over the small crowd completely. He sprinted into Kugane then, down a large street, and then into an alley-way, down another five, until he was thoroughly lost, and out of energy. He panted hard as he struggled to recover his breath, and faced the alley entrance, waiting for the shady Kugane Warlord's men to appear. None did.


"Hello there." Came a voice from above him. The Raen whirled, and looked up to see a thinly built, fair-skinned Hyuran male, sitting casually on a wall separating the alley from what appeared to be some sort of yard behind him. He was wearing a ragged looking red kimono, and white hakama. His hair was disheveled, crimson, and bound in a ponytail that hung to his middle back, but the most noticeable and distinguishing feature he had was an X shaped scar on his cheek. "You seem out of breath, that you do. Are you running from someone?"

The out of breath Raen looked up at the Hyur, and nodded, and he saw the man's eyes widen slightly, as their gazes met. "I am...my...my clan tried selling me into bondage to...some Warlord."

The Hyur looked at him, stroking his bare chin as he did. "Service to a Warlord? Of Kugane?" His eyes shifted to the scabbard on the Raen's hip. "You must be quite the swordsman, if that is true."

The Raen tilted his large, horned head at the Hyuran man. "Why would I lie to a total stranger?"

That, brought a smirk to the man's scarred face. "Why indeed. Come with me, mister Raen. We can hide you here, that we can. Everyone calls me Ken. Do you have a name?" He said, as he stood.

The Raen thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Not anymore."


The shaggy redhead tilted his head. "How about Tao?"

The Raen formerly known as Dov tilted his head as well. "Why Tao?"

Ken gave him a genuine smile. "The symbol, on your back. Do you not know what it means?"

He nodded. "Something about balancing light and dark, and finding enlightenment. But I have found no such thing…"

Ken winked at him. "The journey of a thousand malms, begins with a single step, that it does."

The Raen pondered for a moment, and then nodded. He had already taken his first steps, and chosen a new path. One that he desired.

"Very well." He said, as he leapt up to join the shaggy headed Hyur on the barrier betwixt alleyway and yard. "I'll go by Tao."