Part IX... to be cont...

Part 9...

It is the Roche-aux-fées who guard the entrance to the fairyland. This accolade has its origins in the early ages of Gaia. Revived by a magical touch, legends are sung through the magic stones. On their side, an aberration alters the pastoral calm. It is the Mirror of the multiverse.

From its reflecting surface emerge two dark silhouettes representing a culture of darkness: a black elf, graceful but dangerous, then another curse of creation, an Arachne. This creature is monstrous, with her tiny body and her eight spider legs. Her head is replaced by a female torso black smoke which unfold large demon wings beating this pure and serene air, in this haven of peace. Under the moonlight, this macabre spectacle have come to tear off the veil of magic from this enchanted site. The Arachne breaks the silence with her voice stressed and evil squeaking, “Invoke your screening spell quickly, I will not desecrate our Roches-aux-fées by our Transfiguration. Let's say that we don’t sit well in this setting. Here, I feel more comfortable in my fairy body.” “Do not worry, little Yuna, we're on Arachnéida’s heels” as the Mage is crying, “Trans-Stone through toward Arachnéida we slide in!”

Suddenly, the legs of the Mage sink through the gravel. “Either, but Invisibles- Let it be- but invisible, let us be- from eyes of inner Meanders!”

Yuna is just in time to hang eight feet by the shoulder of her friend. Both of them disappear in a veil of invisibility as the torso of the Mage gets stuck in the ground-swallower. Hidden in a chthonic world, will our two heroes of the multiverse save all that lives on the surface of Gaia?

Part VIII

Part 8

In the fortress of mystical knowledge, the largest library of arcane magic, lies the Guardian of the multiverse’s Temple of Wonders. It is here that the two companions, who are joined for eternity by the magical powers they possess. It is their magic that must be used to counter the Black Widow Arachnéida.

Yuna, the fairy and Ditratos, the White Mage rest in soft beds in an elvish "trance." The Transfiguration of Arachne affected their subconscious. Their minds welcomes knowledge of a civilization that has crisscrossed the Inner Meanders for eons.

These beds are actually giant spider webs that have been woven without any sticky substance. Safe and comfortable, they bring rest to the two watchers of the multiverse. The Elven trance completes its work on the new consciousness of the two companions. Around them, imperceptible runes suspended in air going through their body and brain, giving a final touch of black magic to the transfiguration of the Arachne.

Since reading the Grimoire of Dark Elves and the Creatures of Inner Meanders, both friends have perceived and seized the Knowledge and Heritage of the Dark Elves that goes back to the genesis of Gaia. With their transfiguration, the glory days of Arachnéida are counted. The magic that these companions hold will change the course of history. Until now, souls have never survived the Transfiguration of Arachne. Several unfortunate souls who have tried still roam as entities lost in the binding of this Grimoire of the Damned.

As the mage lays on a spiders web, his senses awaken, when the realization comes to him of what an intense moment this is. Without even opening his eyes, now that he is a Dark Elf, he can sense Yuna nearby, hanging on a web of her own. “Yes, Yes, it's me, your beautiful Yuna, your favorite and revered Arachne!” the newest dark elf reveals.

Yuna’s thought enters the Mage’s head. “Telepathy, bright as the light is between our brains!” Thinks he. As Yuna replies to him through her voiceless speech “Yes! My beautiful privacy is violated, but our intuitions are tenfold.”

In one a synchronized action, they open their eyes to each other and smile. Before either of them speak a word, they are both clearly surprised at the choice of languages available in their minds. Dozens of dialects are found in their memories. Languages that are spoken by races whose members have never walked on the surface of Gaia. Together, Ditratos and Yuna shake their heads. For a few moments the Mage thought carefully, choosing his words, as he spoke first, “we need a few more hours to control ourselves” both know!

He looks up to observe his Temple of Wonders. Woven here and there are huge canvases, stretched in to strange shapes that stretch to the top of the sphere of light that disappears into the umbrella of darkness in this well of knowledge.

A mischievous thought sings in the spirit of the dark elf who is a bit troubled by the unreasonable decorative touches. “Bah! I could not sleep after the feast yesterday. Then I spun a little. It relaxed me a lot and my digestion has been successful over the canvas. It's strange!” Yuna speaks of her new and strange disguise.

Yuna lands on the shoulder of the dark elf in two or three beats of her dark wings and claws. From her fairylike voice, Yuna whispered to her friend, “You know, the functioning of my digestive system is very...” A simple gesture of protest from the hand of Ditratos is enough to interrupt his friend, “Okay, okay! I know, my dear.” “Of course,” she said with their telepathic communication, the beauty of the word goes.

Despite the lightness of Yuna’s spirit, the gatekeepers activate a magical plan of attack over the Dark Elves. They familiarize themselves with some sentences in dialects that have their origin from the bowels of Gaia. Another tool in their bag of tricks, used to confront an enemy of size and supremacy: The Black Widow, the undisputed Queen of the Dark Elves. After several hours of preparation, they are ready to face the task at hand.

The Arachne and her male-servant stop for a moment before the mirror, a time for reflection. The mage utters the plan to his companion, “On reflection, we will descend toward the Dark Elves, but I won’t venture leaving the mirror under the nose of The Black Widow. We’ll start from the Roche-aux-fées. From there, we’ll follow our prey in their tracks.”

The Mage weighed a specimen of the soil sample collected at the foot of the Roche-aux-fées. Yuna's chest swells with pride, “I can not wait to see her dark face submit to the authority that I am, especially when all his army of dark elves disappear before her eyes.”

Yuna sweeps the air with her little ebony arms to put weight to her words. It must be said that Arachne also enjoy the confidence that victory is accompanied by and is very convincing with a physical body so monstrous and magnificent. Meanwhile, the magician invokes the mysteries to open the gate of the mirror. Its surface reflects their images of black smoke like and our two friends are unrecognizable under the transfiguration spell. Ripples appear on the surface of the mirror and three strokes of the wings carry the revered Arachne to their destination. Her male-servant followed suit gracefully away from the other side of the mirror, where Roche-aux-fées awaits.

Part VII

Part 7

The great magician and his dear friend Yuna, the rebel fairy, are both intensely absorbed by the open volume of the Dark Elves creatures and the Inner Meanders. This book, the Codex, reveal the dark content, mystical knowledge gathered by authors, either anonymous or missing. Most of them have lost their souls. Trapped in a network of unspeakable evil, in the prohibited Codex.

This grimoire is highly coveted by the community of those who promote magic. Many followers of the divine faith have become assassins, in the attempt to snap up the work of demons. Other witches or priestesses of the lower planes have survived by plotting and deception to stand before this manuscript. Some have managed to write down in the pages of this book, their sealed secrets. By doing so, they lose their souls, vampirized by the essence of nothingness: demonic Annals.

Over time, the work of these evil servants have built a magic aura of its own. Energy fields from multiple sources riddles with portholes to other worlds. Worlds with separate realities and basic laws, of secret powers held by nameless creatures.

The eyes of the magician are frantically shifting from left to right and top to bottom, adjusting to the different depths of vision. Runes and symbols unfold and rise outside the magic that binds it. The untrained eye wanders over and beyond the surface of this damned book, whose contents are endless and insane.

Fortunately, Yuna watches over the threshold of the gate of lost souls. Standing on the shoulder of her friend, the magician, she whispers in an ancient language powerful spells from her magic legacy. Her graceful arms rest on the ear of her companion. Her tiny eyes do not miss the spectacle of runes dancing in a diabolical bacchanal.

The Hall of Wonders is a serene contrast to this moment of frenzy that runs over these fantastic studies. Slowly… a unique fusion emerges as an alteration of the infrastructure itself touches the matter composing Yuna, Ditratos, and the Manuscript of prohibited knowledge. The runes and symbols float in a complex ellipse. A dizzying whirl of illuminated magic signs pierce the flesh of our magic carriers.

The Cursed Grimoire is wide open. Two hands rest on the edge of pages, with fingers long and nimble. The eyes of the master open wide as he watches this spectacle before him. Beautiful but also terrible, the transfiguration takes shape. The white of his eyes become dark and his vision very sensitive to even the dimmest of the candles light. It is this moment that man and the fairy had a foreboding of. The Archane’s transfiguration begins.

These familiar hands of flesh color, furrow with veins and capillaries of a black as ink pulp. The skin turns gray and then black. Ebony nails crown fingers suddenly affected by Elfic black magic. Ditratos has becomes a Black Elf of Inner Meanders.

Pressure in eight different points can be felt at the same time on his shoulder. "Black Mage" hears a familiar whisper at his ear, “by all Arachnes of the Sacred Web of Depths, we are both very cute, ready to explore the impossible?”

Ditratos turns his head and raises a thin Elfic eyebrow in sight of his companion. “You're fascinating, dear Yuna! How do you manage to be so attractive in your new ... Uh ... Appearance?” said the new transformed mage.

Indeed, what remains of Yuna, perhaps her eyes that are mischievous without malice, her air of fairy defined by a narrow waist, but what’s next is monstrous! Her magical attributes are built on a spider body streaked with black stripes on a red garnet hooked abdomen. At its end, a spur shines of watery, sticky material that somewhat resembles the texture of a freshly woven spider web. Eight hairy legs cling to the shoulder of her friend. The two front legs are articulated around large mandibles continuously moving back and forth. This move, almost hypnotic, reveals a dark hole crowned with small sharp teeth. This is the mouth of the Arachne certainly eager for fresh meat. The beating of wings of a gargoyle brings attention to the pose of outraged Yuna, both fists to her hips, staring at Ditratos’ black eyes of the Ranger, “your smile is too visible without your mustache. Raise at once your inked eyes to mine! It is not polite to undress the ladies. It's embarrassing you know!”

The authoritative tone of Yuna as Arachne, softens, “the dark elf suits you too. Your skin is shiny, hairless and black as mine. But do not forget! You're now sending yourself to an Arachne, chosen by the Goddess of the Dark Elves.” Yuna also displays a smile on her black smokelike face, now “I know that I have the authority to treat you as a male-servant!”

The two friends confront their smiles in a duel for a few moments, then burst out laughing. “It's fascinating to look at us, in bodies that represent what is most dangerous to civilization living on the face of Gaia: An Arachne and her male-servant, just as feared, a Black Elf” the mage remarked. While combing her hair with her front legs, to the reflection of her friend, Yuna asks in a haughty voice, “Do you think I'm presentable for a stroll in to the public square of the village?”

Ditratos replies in a dramatic fashion, “Certainly, Venerable Arachne! The site will be emptied of all souls into their bodies. The local Lord will commit suicide at once to the vision he would have of himself, paralyzed by your venom and vampirized of his soul. It is very promising for his posthumous reputation of being eaten while still warm, gradually, by an immortal Arachne.”

Here!” Yuna said, “You make me hungry! I am ‘fang’ with hunger!” At the sound of two jaws rubbing on each other, a sidelong glance is shown on Ditratos’ face. He grinds his teeth inhaling. “Uh! Do not look at me like that, Lady Arachne, I am not on the menu” said the mage, while hoping that she understands. Yuna shakes her head gracefully, while flailing her dark wings, “No, but a witch hunt is ahead of the other side of the mirror and it gives me a hollow.”

Once the Grimoire is secured in its radius then alien laughter, jokes and bawdy songs resonate for hours with festive watered drinks. An Arachnoid kind of menu that is cooked by Black Magic on the eve of the great hunting of the Black Widow Arachnéida through the dark tunnels of Inner Meanders.

Then silence falls back in. The mage has returned to his seat in the "Hall of Wonders." The great hall and its mysteries sleep again under the magic sphere of light that is suspended in space-time. Our two friends slip into an Elvish sleep, a state of sleep that will bring them full control of their new body.

Part VI

Part 6

Silence surrounds the low brightness emanating from a sphere of a light that is rocking in a vacuum. Maintained for centuries, the light of the ball barely touches the walls of the huge room that is surrounded by shelves and shelves, alcoves, and maps spread out on the wooden and black stone walls. There levitating in the warm air, the magical sphere awaits the return of its Master Mage: The Ranger of the multiverse. The ceiling is lost in the darkness where converging beams of metal and wood emerge as ageless Gothic symbols. The walls are ringed with storied mezzanines. Spiral staircases connect the floors that are lined with shelves full of manuscripts, parchment rolls, lecterns empty or occupied by unkown grimoires... for a mere mortal. Here, everything seems immortal, frozen in time.

No openings or windows, no clue if it's night or day outside these walls that are riddled with secrets. No door opens on anywhere to discover. A confined space, built around a large wooden floor of alabaster, followed by a series of tables of all sizes. Lots of bottles, books and scrolls found here and there. Unknown instruments, small encompasses, complex statues of angelic and demonic creatures, which are spread all over the tables. It is a cave of information, a den of knowledge. “Our Hall of Wonders!” Ditratos proclaims.

He shouts in a grave voice, the immortal master of the arcane, with arms outstretched in a cross shape surrounded by knowledge stored in these walls. A smile of satisfaction comes across his face. As the pendants light rises, it forms a stunning spiral that remains visible, flashing before his eyes, for a breath, just a moment in time. The Mage knows that it is time for the light to become a fairy. By the time the wings of rainbow sky flapping and Yuna, the fairy rebel, is visible again. In a magical, ageless beauty, the tiny companion rides time in the atmosphere of these places steeped in mystery.

Indeed, inside this very room is the envy of magicians of the multiverse. But no living being knows where this cathedral of mystical knowledge is hidden. Here, side by side is the divine, the Demonomicon, the grimoires of White and Black Magic, the Obituary and Quintessence Draconic. The spine of the Codex of Mad Sorcerer is supported by the study of the Dark Elves and creatures inhabiting Inner Meanders.

A long hand strokes compliance with the binding of this unique compendium. The fingers close on the garnet-colored leather, taken from his motionless eternity. This book holds the secrets of a civilization of darkness. It is potentially dangerous in the hands of an innocent. On the cover, the leather is embossed in mystic runes that look like spiders. Slowly familiar hands bring the volume above the walkway encircling the room. Between those of the White Mage, it is an infallible weapon in the battle looming between three immortals: Yuna, Ditratos and Arachnéida.

Far, far below, near the study tables, a little fairy slips from one corner of the room to the other. When suddenly, the book and the mage plunge into the void. Ditratos begins its descent in perfect levitation. His loose dress unfolds and folds at the action of air flow created by the steep dive. Agile, touched by the reassuring grace of the magic arcane, the mage glides to his fairy friend. Yuna then raises her eyes to her companion of eternity that goes to the central table. Swirling around the man as a light wind, Yuna raises her fists firmly on her hips, showing some of the curiosity of this fairy.

“Sometimes I wonder what these spiral stairs are for if you're there to levitate. It's annoying, you know, this nonsense architecture” the little fairy muses aloud. “Bah! That was when I was a bit limited ... say ... down-to-earth!” said the magician who is landing near Yuna, already sat on the edge of the table. A dull sound accompanies the blast of air that is delivered when the book touches surface of the table. Immediately Yuna flies to the shoulder of her friend.

“Good!” He said, snapping his fingers.

Candlesticks slide on the table and approach the two friends as if guided by an invisible hand. A flame appears on each candle to form a half circle of light around these two companions. They bend their heads over the secrets of the Dark Elves. It is a very dangerous moment beginning here. Many have lost their souls doing this. But Yuna and the White Mage are pilgrims on the road to eternity. Magic is the fiber of their fleshly shroud. Their minds are distorted by the magic touch, which also circulates in the binding of the Codex of the Inner Meanders. So the mystical stream rises and flows like sap in the Arcane tree, sprawling out its roots into the heart of Gaia, the mysterious land of the Dark Elves.

Part V

Part 5

In the Great Hall of the Magician with a Hundred Names, a thousand and one exotic things, strange vials and multiple scrolls frame the man of legend. On his shoulder, his tiny companion sat.

Yuna, the fairy rebel, rests her back on her friend's elbow. The two watchmen of the multiverse can relax for a little. As the enchanted mirror reflected their image, Ditratos turned his gaze to the beautiful fairy, “sometimes I wonder what keeps you together with me: an old mystic and a divinely beautiful princess!”

“Listen, dear friend!” retorted Yuna. As little Yuna glides gracefully over the forearm of the sage. “I am not called a rebel for nothing after all. Your fantastic voyages bring me the challenges I need to forget the political intrigues of the court of the fairies. Moreover, I am beginning to love these twists that we often expect from the other side of the mirror.”

The long hand of slender fingers slide beneath the bare feet of Yuna. The two friends having fun dancing to their feet and their fingers into a mini choreography.

“Yes, indeed, this mirror will bring a lot of surprises. But I sense more intense moments. We must be vigilant, you and I. We will make a leap toward the Roche-aux-fées. I think the Stones have things to reveal to us. But I have an unpleasant feeling of being watched. What do you think, little wonder!” the mage asks his little companion.

In a moment, Yuna spreads her diaphanous wings, rising slowly. She hoveres a hand away from the nose of her friend. His gray mustache quivers under the flapping wings of rainbow. Two delicate hands land on the tip of his nose. As gently as drops of dew, a thin kiss is gently deposited. With wet eyes and a smile, the mage whispers, “that is the biggest yes a man never heard, I am privileged to have you as a friend!”

With all modesty and quiet, the doll turns into a winged jet of light. She seeps into the pendant hanging from the neck of the master of mysteries. Ditratos closes his eyes, hand on the small wooden cage. Stock cage between his fingers, he opened his eyes to the magical light at the end of the chain. With his deep voice, a thought slipped from his lips, “your presence is valuable to our immortality.”

The sacred words are thrown in the reflection of the mirror. A magic union takes place: an alteration in frequency, even our friends have to activate their impulses that are aligned to the magic mirror. The surface of the latter undulates with the rhythm of secret incantations and the transition becomes possible. In the space of a single step, the magician stands in front of the monument, as old as humanity has known: La Roche-aux-fées.

The rising sun touches the surface of “rocks singing legends” with its honey colored beams. Yuna rests as she sits on the back of the hand of the mage and both make contact with the Stone.

The telepathic link is instantaneous as the two faces are veiled dumb with concern. Singing Stones reveal content of the most formidable; incarnation of destruction breathe again in a living body who walks on the face of Gaia. The ebony skin entity vampirizes the vital essence of every creature clinging to her canvas. Right here, under the feet of the magician, this abomination weaves her revenge through treacherous seduction, deception, and deadly, unimaginable plots. To survive her touch is to serve her dark designs. The Black Widow is his nickname and his real name is spoken only by those who defy.

Yuna and Ditratos look to each other in silence. They whisper simultaneously, “Arachnéida! The Queen of the dark elves!” Like a wind that turns the two friends react quickly. They know that the enemy of humanity and all life on Gaia has begun to hunt his game, and that game, it is them. “Yuna-My dear, we'll have fun now!” the magician says to his small, but feisty companion. “We will hunt the hunter, right?” replied the rebel fairy. “Yes!” retorted the mage, with all possible enthusiasm.

In a few moments, the magician recites a spell, arms toward the floor, palms down. Immediately, the floor is colored with a green glow and traces appear. Ditratos notices that “there are three moons, Arachnéida was here!” With a deep voice, eyebrows lowered, eyes of the sage raises the along side the Roche-aux-fées. A handprint tattooed green on the surface of the singing stone. Yuna indignant, “accursed witch, she has desecrated our sacred stone and that damnation knows about us now. We must act fast!” But the little fairy knows that after seeing the three moons, speed of action is of grave importance. She flies over the rock formation very quickly and returns hurriedly stopping in the air near the ear of her friend.

Yuna vows that “The Black Widow will not desecrate our stones again. I have left a note of welcome for her that will burn her curiosity forever” Squatting in the footsteps of his enemy with a soil sample in a test tube, Ditratos of the multiverse looks at his magic winged carrier and declares, “I am glad to have you by my side. A fairy rebel, it burnt fingers.” The man stands erect, looking as the mirror reappears. In a low voice, he whispers to his friend with the pointed ears, “what would you say a study tour of the Dark Elves?” With a small smile and a nod, the little magic creature disappears into light in its wooden cage, as the Ranger rushes to the other side of the mirror.

Part IV

Part 4

The moon’s light softly caressed the surface of the famous Roche-aux-fées. This magic stone formation sings the legend of many worlds. A graceful hand as black as the abyss is resting on the edge of the rock, drinking from a legend.

“Yuna, the rebel fairy, becomes a force of light standing and in the palm of the hand of Ditratos, the White Mage. Their meeting is one of a kind, two souls linked by a bridge across eternity, across the multiverse.”

Suddenly, a telepathic link strikes like lightning crashing on a tree. There, stands a figure wearing a large black tunic, touched by a feline grace, it leaps backwards. The moonlight reveals a partially ebony black face, glaring at the Roche-aux-fées. This face is both divinely beautiful and disturbing, demonic. Anger quickly deforms the muscles of the Dark Elf’s face. His gaze is suddenly bathed in icy hatred and the tiny presence of grace is destroyed, to make way for a wild frenzy of terror to petrify any sensitive soul in it’s path.

All human resemblance vanishes in this place. The body of a goddess is retracted into a rough nightmare like creature, overflowing with an angry power. Only a small squeak escape behind the white teeth crowned by sensual lips. The black humanoid shouts in an ancient language, “I knew that the Roche-aux-fées held secrets.” The dark figure turns her head toward the formation of dolmens and closes her charcoal eyes slowly to with pride. “I didn’t cross the crust between my world and the moon for nothing. Now I know how these pests hide. They wander in the hope to escape their fates.” Slowly trembling with an angry restraint, the macabre figure raises her arm and closes fist on the lunar disc. “Go, run from world to world, the multiverse is not big enough for you to hide from me. The Black Widow watches now. The hunt is launched.”

An evil smile split her dark face. “I, Arachnéida, become a legend. I am the spider that weaves a different destiny, that of the Black Elf Queen, who will crush two small grains of light to let the large web covering the multiverse. I already savor the victory of darkness. See you soon, little pests!”

Suddenly, the dark elf seems to sink into the ground. Slowly, her entire body goes still and hidden under gravel, beneath the crust that separates the dark elves from the moonlight that caresses the ground of Gaia.

Part III

Part 3

In the Hall of the White Mage, the atmosphere was more feverish than other nights. It was on this night, that an alignment of the stars would unfold. For a brief moment in the eternity of the universe a historic event of mystical secrets would occur. The ancestor of man had appeared under this alignment in the sky. However, this night could turn into nightmare for humanity. This night could see the birth of a creature born from shadows and darkness, bore by a powerful heiress with no mercy! Fortunately, the White Mage has been watching, for decades now, for this alignment and the cosmic fissure that shake the very structure of everything known. With haste, this ageless magician was busy preparing the final touches on the potion, made through alchemy and knowledge, to destroy this scheme against the multiverse.

His eyes tight on these signs and symbols that gushed from his pen. This wise man whispered from his lips, the ancient dialects that only " Roche-aux-fées" experience. He knew that eons are eternal in every fiber of the components of life. It is at these levels, invisible to the eye, that this possible alteration of events that fate has sealed, might unbalance the essence of humanity.

These sidereal fissions were already apparent in the distant past when the elves came to the surface of Gaia. Thus, the negative cross-eons, the Black Elf Kin was engulfed in the bowels of the Earth-Nurse (Gaia) to alter forever the underground ramifications. It was then that the rule of Queen Arachnéida, the immortal "Black Widow," which still today vampirizes the celestial designs forces of its absolute power over the known universe. As she weaves her web, snapping every human weakness in order to learn all that she can that will aid her and ensure the ultimate victory over humanity.

Under a veil of silvery hair and a forehead full of wrinkles, the wise magician is dug. Beads of sweat ran down to his temples. Every fiber of his being is recomposed by the rhythm of secular syllables escaping his voice. This ritual altered its powers, increased tenfold, and its meaning to a level almost divine. Soon the master magician was back on the other side of the mirror.