Dance away life. That is all that Devyn desired in his youth. To dance-- to love-- to truly be alive. Then he was accepted to Inusaka High. The Covenant of Mystra. The epitome of darkness-- of cold-heartedness-- of death-- this is where Devyn found himself. How he came across the Covenant... he has forgotten now. Perhaps it was that petite friend of his, the one in the black cloak and purple dress. Perhaps it was just genuine curiosity. Devyn found himself studying within the halls of the Mystrans, searching for something. He himself knew now what he searched for, but something within him-- something almost not a part of his true self-- knew exactly what the hunt was about. Search and search he did. He found not what he searched for within the Mystran tombs, but he did discover something else. Something far darker that he ever expected. His soul was not full of love. His soul was not bountiful with life, as he had so imagined his entire life. His entire life was a lie. The light of the universe did not shine down on him anymore. He was the Dark Dancer.

Seryph walks into the theater, dressed in his best tuxedo. The Khazan Players are performing one of his favorite one-act plays: The Sound of a Voice. To the observer familiar with modern drama, they would find the fact that he came to the play alone a pleasant irony, but an expected one. It is known that Seryph generally kept to himself, and only keeps close company with a select group of friends. The fact that he is never seen with a "significant other" does raise eyebrows on occasion, but after Seryph won a major lawsuit against The Khazan Tattler after they printed numerous false stories about his alleged affairs with numerous famous females in Khazan, no one really brought up the topic. Sure, there are the occasional rumors. Seryph IS a major figure not only in the FPL, but in the social life of Khazan in general. Someone in the limelight as much as he has to expect such rumor mongering, and for the most part, he lets it slide and laughs it off, like the time it was rumored that he was going to sell of his stock in the FPL to Marc Dollar. But when it comes to his love life… if the public knew the truth behind his near-bitterness towards the subject they would know why he so readily lashes out over the mere hint of the subject.

Few know the truth. Even few of those among his circle of friends know the truth. That may be because he doesn't talk about The Apathy Wars much. Seryph’s friends consider themselves lucky enough to know that much about him, since his involvement in that almost-ancient war isn't exactly common knowledge among the general populace. To the average guy on the street Seryph is merely an administrator in the FPL and one of the few normal guys around these parts. But to his friends he is Seryph Gibbons, immortal avatar of the universe and sole survivor among those chosen to become the defenders of all existence during the Apathy Wars more than 50 years ago. But what even they don't know, save for a small handful of his closest friends, those that he entrusts his very existence with (quite a compliment from a supposed immortal), was that one of the other avatars killed in the Apathy Wars was the only person he had ever truly loved.

True love, yes. A love that never was, yes. His only love was a love that never existed. Her name was Ling. That was what he called her actually. Everyone else seemed to look at her in reverence, calling her Ling Tzu. Sure, he knew that on Earth she was heralded as the greatest mind in Daoist philosophy since Chuang Tzu and the apparently mythical Lao Tzu. That meant little to a man who just liked the jokes she would crack and the stories she would tell. Guess he's just a sucker for a person he can converse with on an equal level. Doesn't hurt that she was the only human female among those chosen to be the main warriors in a war that would determine the course of all reality. They could take about almost anything, save that most primordial emotion of love.

Seryph was born in a small town. Normal people abounded, few people stood out, save for himself. Sure, there was an school for magic users in his home town, but that was normal for where he lived. He lived his life never knowing a true equal, save for his Kendo sensei, but that was an entirely different relationship that the ones he had on an everyday basis. Then he met Ling. Equality in one's peer-- something he had never had before. Yet something about it made him uneasy. While he adored Ling for who she was... he could never express it. Call it being intimidated, but he stood in awe of her. Not in the same way his peers did. It wasn't because of her reputation, it was because of who she was-- because of how she made him feel when in her presence. Seryph had never been truly intimidated by anyone in his life. Even the forces of Oblivion incarnate phased him very little. He may have had his fears, but no one put him in his place the way she did, and he loved her for that.

She died in his arms after being murdered by the forces of the Void. As she lay there dying, they gazed into each others eyes and said nothing. He never told her the truth, but neither did she. She knew the truth. She knew everything. She was one with the universe, she was enlightened beyond any living human at the time. She saw the fabrics of reality and read the threads that wove into the histories and emotions of her friends. She read those of her closest friend and knew how he felt. And yet even as she died, she said nothing. Just smiled. Smiled knowing that everything was perfect, even if everything was ending for her. But Seryph never knew-- no one knew save for Ling and the universe itself. And the universe is the best keeper of secrets there is...

Seryph walks out of the theater hall and makes his way to the exit, shaking the hands of those he knew and making small talk. Just as he is about ready to walk out the door, a familiar voice whispers to him from behind.

"It has been awhile, right Mr. Gibbons?" The voice sends a cold shiver down Seryph's spine despite conjuring up pleasant memories at the same time. He turns to look at his former pupil.

"Hello Devyn." He extends his hand to him and they shake hands. Seryph notices that Devyn had a date. He starts to look at her with familiar eyes.

"You remember Kyoko, do you not, Mr. Gibbons? She was very close to my dear friend Yushiro back during our days at high school."

Kyoko has changed. She is almost unrecognizable. In high school, she was the jeans and t-shirt kind of girl, always seeming to have a blotch of paint on her pants from working on her current paining or charcoal on her fingers from working on a sketch. But she now stands before him dressed in an elegant kimono decorated with cherry blossoms stitched into an ornate pattern. She bows to him and Seryph did the same.

"Beautiful play, is it not, Mr. Gibbons?"

"Quite, Devyn, although I'm surprised you would come to see it, and with a date at that. You always had the girls fawning over you in high school, but you always had something on your mind and you brushed them off like they were nothing."

"Oh... I have had a change of heart, so to speak. I spoke with a close friend of ours... no, not Yushiro... and he talked to me about matters of the soul and its search for love. He enlightened me on how one must be truthful to ones they love, or else they would loose them forever. 'Love is so delicate, yet not even oblivion can break it. Only the silence of the heart can shatter it.'" Devyn smiles as he says this, looking straight into Seryph's eyes.

Seryph doesn't hesitate. In one deft movement lasting only a fraction of a moment, Seryph draws out the katana that rests at his side, as if it were some sort of loyal beast, and goes into a low defensive stance. To those watching, the sword seems to fly into his hands. Unlike the casual observer, Devyn sees every movement. Damnation lets one see the natural flow of reality more clearly.

"Dare you attack me in such a public place, Mr. Gibbons?"

"If it means sending you to the oblivion you side yourself with by uttering that phrase, that inevitability is all that matters."

The glass doors at the entrance to the theater scream and crash into shards. The glass shards begin to swirl about in a tempest, cutting through the hordes of spectators that attempt to flee the ongoing chaos inside the lobby.

Devyn's hair remains immaculate as he focuses upon the deadening winds at his disposal, as if he were somehow immune and distanced from the chilling winds-- as if he were beyond their grasp. Perhaps he is.

Kyoko's hair seems to flow gently with the violence surrounding her. Unlike Devyn, her mind appears to be absent of any intense concentration as she slowly draws out a calligraphy brush from inside of her kimono. Essence seems to drip from the brush, as if reality itself was soaked into the bristles.

Seryph still stands in his defensive stance, his hair blowing wildly in the winds conjured by Devyn. Seryph keeps his eyes on Devyn, waiting for the slightest moment of hesitation or weakness to occur. The winds continue to swirl about the lobby of the theater... something that requires at least a minimal amount of concentration on Devyn's part. But Devyn remains unaffected by the torrential winds. Seryph readies his entire perception on Devyn's form, waiting for the slightest hint that his immaculate appearance is being affected by the winds. Surely, if even so much as a breath of wind broke the sphere of tranquility around Devyn, then Devyn's mind was off, if only by the most minute amount.

Seryph waits.

The winds blows.

A tiny hair ruffles on Devyn's head.

Before the hair falls back down into its former place on Devyn's head, Seryph jumps from his defensive stance and slams his sword down towards Devyn. Devyn's concentration apparently isn't off enough, though, for he gracefully spins out of the way of the blade as it crashes down from the sky. Seryph redirects his slice, spinning around, almost in rhythm with Devyn. The edge of his blade carves into Devyn's suit, and blood begins to trickle from the back of the black cloth.

The blood soon stops flowing off the blackness, almost seeming to flow back into the wound. The tear in Devyn's suit starts to sew itself back into place as well, and a faint tint of color seems to glisten about the now fully healed wound. Kyoko lowers her brush, finished with her quick masterpiece of reality twisting.

Seryph shoots a glance over at Kyoko before being forced to resume his combat with Devyn. A fist rockets out from the side at Seryph. Seryph weaves and allows the fist to strike the column behind him. Rather than crumbling or crashing down, a fist sized hole simply... appears as Devyn's fist drives through it, as if the brick was never even there.

"A new trick, Devyn?"

"A simple gift from a simple man, and nothing more, Mr. Gibbons."

"Lovecraft is never a simple man."

"Far more simple than you or I, Mr. Gibbons."

"I'll give you that."

Devyn spins around on his left foot, his leather shoes coming scant millimeters from Seryph's face. Seryph ducks back, comes underneath Devyn's leg, and jams the hilt of his katana into the spot right below where Devyn's heart rests. Devyn lets out a harsh cough, and a stream of blood falls from Devyn's mouth with said cough, pouring onto Seryph's head. Seryph shoves Devyn to the floor and places the tip of his blade at the dark dancer's throat. Kyoko screams and begins to raise her paintbrush into the air, but just as she starts to weave reality, Seryph looks at her.

"Kyoko.... take him."

Kyoko's eyes cool down, and resume their former warm hue. She still holds her brush in the air, ready to paint Seryph's demise.

"Now! Before I change my mind."

Kyoko solemnly nods to Seryph, and quickly sheaths her brush back into her kimono. She rushes to Devyn's side, and picks the man up with all of her strength. A slight wind creeps about her, a hint of cherry blossoms whistle in the air, and Kyoko and Devyn disappear.

Seryph looks down at his blade. A small stain of blood rests on the edge of the blade from when he struck Devyn's back. He quietly flicks the blood off of his blade, sheaths the sword, and walks out of the theater building, with only the cracking of glass accompanying him.