Yumina sighed.  This was an all to familiar scene.  She stepped carefully around
the bodies, to the three she had looked on so often now.  Ilysa and the twin
princes Daric and Averny.  How often had she failed now?  How many more times
before she found the right path?

The girl, Ilysa, was here again.  The last came battle and she always died,
always brought the death of one brother at the hands of her love, and then the
anguished death of her love.  But how to prevent it?  What could she do to stop
Ilysa's death, and thus save one of the princes?

***********************************************************************
The Gates of Time
            Chapter Three: The End of the Beggining
     An Improfanfic brought to you by http://www.improfanfic.com
                         Begun by Lady Brick
                       This chapter by Tyr
***********************************************************************

Ilysa was a happy girl.  Her father had taken her to market two towns over, and
she had gotten to spend the day looking at all sorts of neat things, and her
daddy had even let her pick out a puppy, since they needed another dog on the
farm.  She had been a little sad when she got home and learned from the other
kids that priests from the two orders had come by on their usual quest for the
gifted.  But they would come again in five years, for theirs was a small out of
the way village, and the joy of a puppy now soon erased all thought of magic and
priests from her young mind.

*****************************

Yumina looked on in satisfaction, "Perhaps without her, the brothers would not
both die."  She turned away, and time swept by like a flood.  She WILL succeed.

*****************************

Prince Averny sat in his room at the Temple of the Burning One.  Idly he traced
a circle on the desk with his finger, looking boredly at a book.  "Why does he
not write me back?"  Before him sat a Light Spellbook, "For three months now I
have written him and sent him books, but have not heard a word from him."

"Perhaps, young Averny, he does not wish to speak with you."

Averny jumped up, whirling around to find High Priest Kindar.  "Father Kindar,
what are you doing here?"

"You forget, my prince, you are only an initiate of the second level.  Even
though you have advanced quickly, you don't yet have all the privileges of rank.
 I come and go as I please."

"Sorry Father."  For the moment Averny swallowed his pride and annoyance and
answered, "Did you wish to speak with me?"

"Yes, It concerns your brother, Prince Daric.  You must see that he seeks to
claim the land for himself!  Why else would he refuse to answer you?"

"No!  You are wrong Kindar.  My brother would never even think to do something
like that.  It would start a war, and he would never seek that..."

"I pray you are right, young Averny, but I fear you are wrong.  You must see..."

"NO!  Enough!  High Priest or not I will not stand here while you malign my
brother!"  Averny stormed off.  The old Priest walked slowly to the desk,
picking up the book of Light magic.

"So, if Daric no longer requires a book of this level then he is just as far
progressed as Averny.  This will make things all the harder."  The old priest
sighed and replaces the book.  "Phair old friend, where did things go wrong?"

**********************************

"Daric!"

"Huh?"  Prince Daric, co-heir to the throne of Sankria, stoped in his daily run
and looked about.

He turned to see the High Priest of Light, Phair, running up behind him.  Well
more jogging and breathing heavily.  The old Priest stoped as he reached Daric
and stood a minute panting heavily.  "Daric...how many times...have I
told...you...not to...go out with...out guards?"

"Oh come now Phair, I am old enough to look out for myself."  Daric smirked
slightly at the old priest's apparent unfitness.  "Why should I need armed
guards anyway?  I have no enemies to fear."

"What of your brother, hmm?"

Daric's demeanor changed from its jovial mask to a look a annoyance. "Not this
again.  My brother may be an initiate of fire, but he is not a warmonger or a
mad man.  He would never even consider harming me.  We are brother and we love
each other as such."

The old priest, now recovered, motioned to Daric to follow him, and spoke as
they went.  "That is as may be, but power does things to men's minds, and more
than one loving brother has turned on the other for a throne."

"Nonsense, he would do no such thing.  We write constantly.  I would know if
something was wrong."

The old priest looked thoughtful.  "Ah yes, your letters to him.  Tell me, what
does he say of late.  Maybe if I could see these letters myself it would set my
mind at ease."

"Um, yes..." Daric looked sheepish and slightly uneasy, "he has not written back
in some months now..."

"Perhaps, Daric, this would be a sign?"

"No.  It is but a coincidence.  Perhaps he has been too busy.  Maybe the
couriers have had trouble."

They stopped in front of the door to the High Priest's room.  "Daric, come in
with me, I have something I wish to show you."  As they step into Phair's small
room Daric noticed the emptiness.  The room contained a bed, chair, and a
bookshelf, well stocked.  On the shelves he immediately noticed several Fire
Spellbooks.  Without thinking he pulled out one midway down the row, the next
one past what his brother had sent him.

"Yes, the books of Fire.  I know you and Averny have been sharing magic with one
another.  I too had a close friend who joined the other order.  We started
writing to each other every week, and send each other our old spell books, but
as training intensified that time stretched, two weeks, then a month.  We have
been writing each other every month ever since we were both ordained into
Priesthood."

"What, still?  You're still writing each other?  How did he take your becoming
High Priest of Light?"  Daric had now set the book aside, looking intensely
interested.

"Oh very well.  Kindar was appointed High Priest of Fire at around the same
time."

"High Priest Kindar!?!?!  But, he's the head of the Temple of Fire!"

"Yes Daric.  And until three months ago, he and I never let contact lapse.  Now
I have written him thrice, and received not one reply.  His personal messengers
would never be stopped by weather or bandits.  He has cut off contact, and I can
do nothing, but prepare for what must be coming.  I thought you should know, so
that you could understand my concern.  If they both have cut us off, the only
possible answer is that they are preparing for battle."

"I... No, I cannot believe until I have proof.  I will speak with you later,
High Priest."

"Just do not wait to long to see the truth, Prince Daric.  Kindar was my friend,
but I must acknowledge this.  You must put aside your feeling for your brother,
for he has put aside his for you."

"Goodbye Phair."

"Wait."  The old Priest stood as Daric started to leave.  "Fire magic is much
better offensively.  If what I fear is true, then we may have need of its
strength soon.  Take these," the Old Priest grabbed a stack of spell books from
the shelf, "Study well, it may just save us all."

Daric took the books reluctantly, and with one final silent look left Phair
alone in his room.

"Oh Kindar, old friend," the Old Priest muttered, taking down a spellbook to
study, "Why did it have to come to this?"

****************************

A Circle of hooded Figures stood in some dark, unknown place.  All save one wore
plain black robes and hoods, the last wore one with ornate red and blue trim. 
One of the circle steps forward.  "We have intercepted another messenger. 
Another of the Fire Priests special messengers, but he was taken with only mild
difficulty.  Communication is totally cut off between the temples of Fire and
Light." He stepped back into the circle, and another moved forward.

"Our agent within the temple of Fire reports that the High Priest believes it to
be because the Temple of Light is preparing for war.  Ever since the king turned
fifty last year tension has been mounting.  He has started trying to convince
Prince Averny of his fears.  I believe he will succeed soon."  He stepped back
and yet another moved forward.

The third, a woman, spoke, "High Priest Phair is likewise worried.  He has taken
to setting a guard about Prince Daric, and also seems to be preparing for a war
he feels the Temple of Fire will bring.  Our sources tell us the Prince Daric is
even beginning to doubt his twin, though it will be some time yet before he is
ready for war."

As she stepped back, one directly across from the one in the elaborate robes
stepped forward.  "The palace is still clueless.  Our agents have kept the
servants' gossip from the court's ears, and all is in place for the king's
'removal' when the time is right.  We will be ready to move as soon as those in
the temples are."  As he stepped back the figure in the elaborate robe stepped
forward.

"Excellent," the voice was a woman's, and all too familiar, "soon, very soon,
all will be in place.  Too long has the Lord of Fire and Light been master of
this world.  Soon his chosen will fall, and our lord, Master of the Shadows,
Lord of the Frozen Waste, shall be freed to claim the throne of power.  Those in
place, continue your works, and begin agitating the lower ranks.  Spread rumors
of the coming war.  Those of you not in the Temples or Palace spread fear in the
villages.  Do your best to divide them.  The more disorganized they are, the
more time we will have to act.  With luck we can seize power before they know
what's happening.  And then, it will be too late.  Go forth, and spread
confusion.  When our Lord reigns sovereign over all this land, you shall know
great rewards."  The others disperse, and the leader turned around and pulled
back her hood.

"Soon, soon they shall pay.  They shall all pay..."

Ilysa turned around, her face a mask of fanatical madness.

********************************

Thirteen years before.

A young Ilysa walked along, a pack mule and her dog Johan trailing behind her. 
Ever since her father had fallen ill last year she had been forced to grow up
fast.  The plague that had hit her village had affected only a few, but those
few weren't getting better, and more of them died every day.  Her father could
barely walk on a good day, and barely breathe on a bad.  Her mother had not
survived the initial infection.  So she had learned at the tender age of six the
arts of sheep farming, planting, harvesting, plowing, and hiring workers.  It
was hard, and she had little time for anything else, but they got by okay, and
she managed to feed herself and her father.  She did not make enough to save
much, but what did that matter?  They got by.

********************************

The next year brought trouble.  She had produced so little that though she had
enough to live off of, she could not pay the king's tax.  Winter came, and so
did the king's men.  They could not pay so their land was taken.  In those harsh
months, little good came.  Little Ilysa could only be thankful that her father's
suffering had ended quickly in the cold, and that he would not continue to
suffer as she and Johan would.  It would be a hard and blurred time for her.

The greatest insult came with the spring though.  Several Priests of the
Brilliant One came to the village, having heard of the plague.  Within days they
had healed the afflicted, and all were better in a week than they had been for
over a year.  Just a little too late for her father.

Spring changed to summer, and Ilysa and the now mangy and flea ridden Johan
survived by stealing and by the occasional odd job of act of charity.  However,
drought came, and the crops were lean and shriveled.  As summer faded into fall
things didn't get much better, and the future looked bleak.  With the poor
harvest, odd jobs were rare, as there was little work to be done, and little pay
to be given for it.  Charity was scarce, for food was badly needed, and many
families who worked hard all year went hungry anyway.  As winter came it seemed
almost impossible for things to get worse.

Things got worse.  A thin, slightly dirty girl of eight, and her mangy flea
ridden dog got much sympathy, but little else.  More often than not begging got
a kick rather than a morsel of food, and several times it got a constable
chasing her.

Starving and freezing, little Ilysa wandered begging.  Then she found at last a
ray of hope.  While begging for food one day, a kindly looking man offered her a
place to stay and a warm meal.  Things were not what they seemed however.  As
she came in the man become more insistent.  After the man tried to kill her and
several other things better left unsaid, she fled, pursued by the mad man.  She
ran from street to street, alley to alley, only to end up at a dead end.  As she
huddled into the dark, snow filled corner, the man came to the alley.  As he
slowly advanced he licked his lips, and tested the edge of the carving knife he
held.  And then, as she huddled into the dark and cold, praying for a savior,
she found something, or something found her.  When she awoke the next morning,
the man was gone, and everything around her was covered in red goo.  At the time
she did not understand, but later, she would.

************************************

Yumina walked the streets of the mortal world.  She had come to see how things
were progressing.  As she walked she listened, silent and unseen.

"...hear that the Fire temple is preparing for war."  "Oh yeah, well Dorna, the
barmaid?  She says that the Temple of the Brilliant One is planning to do away
with Averny..."

%Shining One, if it's Light...

"...of the Light tried to poison the well at the Temple of Fire..."

"...say that men wearing Averny's crest tried to kill the King..."

"...War, I tell you.  Won't be long now..."

"...great battle.  You'll see..."

Too soon.  Yumina was worried.  This shouldn't be happening yet.  There had been
almost no gossip before, and the war had never happened this early.  Something
was wrong, she should have a year yet.  Could something be interfering?  But
what?

***********************************

Ilysa, age thirteen, sat cross-legged on the floor.  Around her sat other
initiates.  Like her, they slipped through the cracks, and the Temples of the
Burning and Shining one missed them.  Like her they had suffered, and their
suffering had drawn the attention of the Dark One, Lord of Shadows, Master of
the Frozen Waste.  By all accounts the training under the Dark Priests was
harsher than that of the Light, but Ilysa figured that meant it was better. 
Besides, they had been there for her, unlike the light.

"Ilysa, stand."  The black robe Priest pointed at her.  She swallowed
hesitantly, but did as she was told.  After all, anything was preferable to
punishment for disobedience.  "Good.  Class, observe, and remember.  The old
tongue is difficult, and mispronunciation can mean much worse than death.  This
is a spell of Shadows, to elicit Fear in an opponent or group of opponents." 
The Dark Priest turned, pointing at Ilysa.  "Vranth Grk'farnm Dtthgiln, Vranth
Forntrp Mqwrostd!"

Before Ilysa's eyes unfolded the one thing which still haunted her.  A kindly
old man offers young Ilysa a place to stay.  The horrible things he did.  The
pain.  The terror.  The flight through the dark, the dead end, those last
moments of soul rending fear.

The Dark Priest turned his back, and addressed the assembled initiates.  "She is
currently experiencing her greatest fear.  She will most likely faint in a
moment and will need rest for several days.  While not lethal, this spell can
easily subdue a large force if you are outnumbered.  Now..."  He did not get a
chance to finish, for at that moment the orb of shadow that had surrounded
Ilysa's head vanished.  Standing completely rigid, Ilysa's eyes were now
bottomless wells of darkness.  Her mouth opened and a voice no human could
produce echoed from her mouth.  The truly unspeakable syllables took but an
instant, and for a moment all was quiet.  Later, Ilysa would wake as if from a
trance, and find that the Dark Priest and the entire class of Initiates were
gone, not like that man so many years ago, but simply vanished into some unknown
abyss.

This was when the High Priest of the Dark took an interest in her training.

***********************************

The Circle of the Dark Lord stands, with Ilysa at its center.  "How goes the
Plan?"

A man, hood back, stepped forward.  He was old, with gray hair, and what would
be a kind face, were he not so serious at the moment.  "All goes according to
plan.  The Temples are both deeply involved in war preparations, the people are
divided, and the court still knows nothing, save that the peasants are
restless."

"Excellent."  Ilysa folded her hands together, putting two steepled fingers to
her lower lip.  "The time has come, I think, to begin the final stage of the
plan.  All that is preventing the war are the Princes, and the King.  The latter
is easily removed, as our man in the palace has ready access to all the King's
personal effects and food.  The former however requires something more.  The
Princes both refuse to believe the other wishes him harm.  We must convince them
otherwise.  Here is what shall be done.  Find a smith, one of ours, and prepare
some crests..."

***********************************
Prince Daric and High Priest Phair stood arguing.

"I tell you Daric, we must prepare!  You must see what is coming by now!"

"No Phair!  I will never believe it!  Averny is my brother.  If it means so much
to him I will give up my right to the throne!  I will not start a war!"  Daric
turns and storms off.

"Daric!  Come back!  Damn it Daric, Listen to reason!  Daric!"

**********************************

Prince Averny and High Priest Kindar stood arguing.

%stood

"NO!  You are wrong about this Kindar!"

"I know how you feel about your brother, Averny, but see what is before you. 
All the peasants talk of how he and Phair are raising and army and training the
Priests of Light for war.  If we do not strike first, before they expect it we
are doomed.  As strong as we are in offensive magic, their defensive spell will
be our foil, and we cannot last a siege.  We must attack!"

"No!  My brother would never start a war, and neither shall I!" This said he
turns and walks away.

"Averny, come back!  Listen to me, we must prepare!  Averny!"

**********************************

"Today, initiates, is a grand day.  Today sees the beginning of the final phase
of our grand scheme, and the beginning of the end if the Temples of Light and
Fire."  Ilysa addresses two groups of Dark Initiates, one in the Red of Fire,
and the other in the White of Light.  Both groups were the sigils of the
appropriate Prince and High Priest.  "You know what you are to do, and be
certain you miss.  Should you succeed, know that even in death you will be
greatly rewarded.  Now go, set the wheels in motion."

As one the assembled initiates saluted, right fist over the heart, "For
vengeance upon the Light and the glory of our Lord!"  They gathered into
separate groups and headed off.

Ilysa turned to another initiate behind her, who wore a simple hoodless black
robe.  "Strike their names from the records and have their things removed, they
will not return."  With that she walked away.

***********************************

That evening, Daric stood on a balcony, leaning on the rail and looked out
towards the horizon, to where he knew the Temple of Fire stands.  "Tell me,
Averny, tell me it's all lies, tell me Phair is wrong..."

"So there you are Daric.  I have been looking for you since earlier."

Daric turned his head, looking at Phair, "Listen, about earlier..."

"No Daric," Phair held up a hand, "You were right, maybe I am being hasty to
judge, perhaps we are wrong.  Tomorrow I will send an envoy to the Temple of
Fire.  If you are right, this will settle things, and if not, we will have
proof."

Daric stood up straight, and started towards Phair, "Thank you.  I know you feel
it is pointless but-" at that moment an arrow whizzed by Daric's face, severing
a few stray hairs.

Phair turned instantly to where the arrow came from, and shouting something
Daric didn't quite catch, hurled a ball of flame.  "Get down Daric, there may be
more!  I will send guards."  Phair ran off surprisingly quickly for one of his
age.

%turned, catch, ran.


*************************************

Averny stood by a window brooding.  "Why Daric?  I know it can't be your idea,
but the evidence is overwhelming.  So why are you allowing them to do this?"

"Averny," He turned to see Kindar, who had just entered his room, "You know what
must be done.  Support it, and we can put you on the throne.  Phair and the
Temple of Light seek to put your brother on the throne alone.  You must stop
them, and you know it."

"All this talk of putting one of us on the throne.  Everyone speaks as if our
father is already dead!  It is a moot point while he still lives."

"True enough.  You still think this is not the work of Daric?"

"It cannot be.  I will go myself, I must speak with him."

"That is very unwise!  I don't think..."

"No I must!  I must know his feeling myse-" At that second an arrow flew through
the window, barely missing Averny.  Indeed it was not a total miss, as Averny
grasped his shoulder, where a small cut has been opened.  "What?!"  He quickly
runs to the window, and seeing a small party running away, he sends a storm of
flames at them.  "Kindar, call the guards, I will get to the bottom of this."

**************************************

Daric crouched looking mutely at the circle of hot metal on the ground by the
charred bodies.  "It can't be.  It just can't."

"And yet it is, child.  Your brother's crest, and that of my old friend Kindar,
High priest of Fire.  It cannot be denied.  They have made an attempt on your
life, and possibly mine as well.  Now do you believe?  What more proof do you
want, his sword in your ribs?"

"No, you are right Phair, damn you, but you are right."  Daric stood with a new
look of conviction, "We must prepare, even I cannot doubt now."

"I am sorry Daric, but what must be, must be."

"I know, Phair, I know."  Daric looked down, "Hold on, look at this."  They had
found four sigils but only three bodies.  "One escaped.  They will know we
know."

"All the more reason to hurry."  Phair turned, and started back to the temple.

*************************************

Averny stood, struck dumb, looking at an all too familiar crest.  The mirror
image of his own eagle head crest, his brother's symbol stared back at him.  "It
cannot be, it simply cannot.  Yet, it is..."

"Hmm, and look at this one, the crest of Phair, High Priest of Light.  Had I not
seen this with my own eyes I would not have believed it.  Surely, Averny, you
believe now.  Assassins sent by your brother and the Temple of Light.  I'd not
have believed they could do it."

"I still cannot believe he would do such a thing.  And yet," Averny looked again
at the crest, "And yet, I must.  Very well, prepare the guards, and all who can
cast a halfway decent fireball.  We must ready ourselves to attack."

************************************

The next day news of the King's rather timely demise reached both Temples. 
Fueled by the recent "assassination" attempts, both sides immediately assumed
the other has done this terrible deed.  As they both prepared for the coming
war, another faction made preparations of its own.

"Be sure the soldiers are well armed.  I don't want to wear out the Priests on
the way to the true battle on simple grunts.  Increase their drills as well,
they need to be well organized.  And also... What is it?" Ilysa stoped issuing
orders to her circle as the initiate from earlier approached her from behind.

"Excuse me High Priestess, but there is someone to see you."

"You interrupted me for that?!"

"Um, sorry, but, um, it's, she's, um,"

"Spit it out!  I'm busy."

"It's one of the members of the special units you sent out."

"What?!?  Very well, I will see her.  You," turning to her circle, "Leave me, I
will send for you when I am done."

After the Circle had left, the initiate went out, and helped in the last
survivor of the mission.  She is badly burned, and one side of her face is
charred.  It was plainly evident that she was in great pain, and barely holding
onto consciousness.  She drew a ragged breath and begins to speak, "High
Priestess, we were successful.  I would not have bothered to return, but, I
thought you would wish to know for certain."  She then slumped down, and her
breathing slowed to a shuddering stop.

"Excellent..."

**********************************

Two great armies stood, armed with steel and magic.  In moments, they would rush
to die, but for now, their leaders addressed them.

Prince Daric and High Priest Phair stood in the midst of their troops, Daric
began to speak.  "What we do this day, we do because we must.  High Priest
Kindar has corrupted my brother, Prince Averny, and together they have sought
the throne ruthlessly.  They have killed the King, my father, and have attempted
to end my life.  Thought I do not like violence, I see no choice.  So go forth
and protect this land from the tyranny such ruthlessness would bring!"

Across the field, Daric's brother Averny addressed his men, "Today we shall do
something no other had dared to think before.  We will make war on the Temple of
Light.  We do this not for power, nor the for the throne, but to stop them. 
Something is very wrong within the Order of Light.  I know my brother Daric, and
this is not what he would have wanted a year ago.  Now however I am forced to
see that he would stop at nothing to attain the throne of Sankria.  He attempted
my life, and they poisoned our Father, the King.  We must stop them, or all is
lost.  Attack!"

As the Armies of Light surged forward, a battle cry rises.  "For the glory of
the Light, and vengeance for the dead King!"

At the same time, another cry rose from the Army of the Flame, "For the King's
vengeance and the glory of the Flame!"

The armies met, and Hell was loosed on Earth.  Foot soldiers fought and died,
horsemen plowed through regimens, and huge balls of fire and searing beams of
light crossed the field leaving death and ash in their wake.  From the back of
the armies, huge monstrosities arose.  Dragons made of light fought Phoenix over
head, while huge Fire Serpents combated myriad Beasts of Light on the ground,
killing scores of men in the process.  Lightning crashed from the skys while
great holes opened in the ground belching flames.  In this chaos, Daric and
Averny searched, one for the other.

*******************************

Yumina stood on a hilltop, overlooking the battlefield.  "This is wrong.  I can
feel it, something is wrong here, but what?"  She looked on as the final battle
unfolds.

*******************************

The fighting died down.  All around small melees and skirmishes still went on,
but the Priests are all dead, killed by one another, or having burned themselves
out with too much magic.  The princes stood, both fresh, facing each other.

"So Daric, it comes to this.  I would not have thought you capable of such
atrocities."  Averny's face was twisted with disgust.

"Silence!" Daric drew his sword, and Averny responded in kind, "I will have
vengeance for Father!"  So saying Daric lunged at Averny.  Averny parried the
blow and tried to cleave Daric, who in turn blocked.  As each made a strike, the
other blocked and returned.  On the rare occasion that one actually connected,
the other took advantage to score a return hit.

A small lull came as they locked blades.  "Vengeance for Father!?!  You killed
HIM!" Averny screamed, throwing Daric back.

"What?!?  Fiend, I would never do such a thing, you did this!" Both princes as
one dropped their swords, and prepared to cast a spell.  As both neared
completion, however, a new voice was heard.

"Actually, I killed the King.  Well, to be honest, one of my men did, but it's
all the same, really."

Both princes stopped and turned, only to be caught in a black mass, that wrapped
them tightly up to the neck, preventing any sort of movement.

Daric turned his head, looking at the woman, "Who are you?"

She made a mocking curtsey, "Forgive me, I am Ilysa, High Priestess of the Lord
of Shadow and Master of the Frozen Waste.  And, for that matter, future Queen of
Sankria!"

Averny looked at her, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?  For too long has the Lord of Light and Flame ruled this land.  Too
long have his temples lead the world, yet done little.  Too long has your family
allowed it.  Now my Lord shall rule this world, and I shall rule this country. 
The only obstacles were the Temples and the royal family.  The first problem is
solved, and the second shall end now!"  So saying she gestured and the shadowy
masses began to contract.

*****************************

Yumina looked at the crumpled messes that were the princes.  "I removed her from
the temples, and yet in the end, she is still here, and both still die.  What is
the link between Ilysa and the twins?"  She sighed, "And now what do I do?"

********************************************************************************

End

Yeah!

Thanks to Lady Brick for general proof reading and pointing out a couple of my
mistakes.  

Ginormous (it's a word, really) Thanks to Falcon for prereading grammar.  I want
all of you who find grammar and spelling mistakes to know that Falcon must have
pointed out an average of two mistakes a sentence.  Grammar and spelling are my
weak points, Oh well.

As for the age discrepancy with Ilysa, I.E. priests about seven years early,
well since Yumina keeps playing with time, I think we can let it slide for the
sake of content and story. ;P

Well, My first Impro done, and now on to my next, Arcana 12!

Later
   Tyr