Saint Joseph School

It was dark.

Of course it's dark came a thought. You're sleeping, or at least you should be.... The thought sounded angry, annoyed maybe, that it had to justify why it was dark.

Well sure, came a reply. But there's nothing here...

It's your dream. Sheesh...

A chuckle. Why am I arguing?

A sigh. You're crazy. Wait a sec...

Off to the left, there was an orange light. It began to get closer, but if it was because it was moving forwards, or allowing itself to be examined closer, it was hard to tell.

What is THAT?

Why do you assume I know?

It is your dream.

The orange light shown brightly the closer it came, so that now hands were visible ahead, and with a quick look down, feet attached to legs to a body to the hands.

Diyar flexed the hands he could now see in front of him, making sure he had control of his body. He always liked it when he knew he was dreaming. He had gotten good about catching it, which allowed him to always do the coolest things while he dreamed, like flying around the world, or surfing on tsunami-sized waves across the ocean.

But this was a different dream, one that, while he knew he was dreaming, he didn't have the control over it. It gave him an unsettling feeling.

I know...I don't like this either...

As Diyar got closer to the light, he began to make out a small object in the center. The light seemed to radiate from the small, round metal thing, and so Diyar continued to move closer to it, like a moth drawn to a candle.

He reached out to grab it. It was cold to the touch, almost freezing. He turned it over, and stared. It was black on one side, gold lines etched in a pattern to give the flat piece of metal a three-dimensional-cut look, like staring at the top of a diamond. In the center of the object was a fleur-de-lis in a dark silver, and underneath was the word "five" in all capital letters. He stared at it, knowing what it was but not what it meant.

Suddenly, the faint, almost soothing orange light exploded into a bright white frenzy of noise and light as a booming voice filled Diyar's ears and caused his heart to nearly stop.

Shon! Roj Stêrk! Agir!

Diyar screamed as the mystical fire erupted around him, engulfing him uncontrolled. The fire burned him everywhere, and he stopped screaming, unable to take in breath to continue. He dropped to his knees and continued to fall in the white expanse, his body still on fire. He fought to open an eye, then quickly shut it, unable to keep it open from the brightness around him and the fire that consumed him.

The same booming voice came again, but as a whisper...no, whispers, all around him, all in chaotic conversation.

...fight with no mercy...

...you will learn to...

...is defiant, but we are brea...

...nyx-five is ready for depl...

Then, his own voice, so far away, yet so clear in his ears.

Onyx Five, standing-by.

There was laughter now, different from the booming voice, and Diyar forced his eyes open. Before him was an image that seemed so familiar to him, one that haunted him as his ultimate failure, an image he could never bear to witness, yet witnessed it so many times before.

His sisters, lying in a pile on top of each other, unmoving, and a shadow like a man in front of them, only a dark red smile visible on his face. Diyar screamed, turning away from the sight and instantly locked eyes on the image of his mother, laying lifeless behind another demon-figure with the same evil smile. He turned again and again, trying to escape from image after image...

Jennifer

Brianna

Stephen

Jacob

Layla

Bobby

Myshka

He finally dropped to his knees, closing his eyes and screaming as tears streamed down his face.

A different voice now penetrated his mind, and the white around him descended to darkness, so that he was once again hidden from himself.

Get up. This is why you fight. Fight to protect the ones you love. Fight without mercy. Fight until you cannot fight anymore. Only then will your power be realized. Only then can you stop this from happening.

The images flashed quickly through his mind, and then were gone again, wiped from his mind by a new image.

He saw himself, in his Seacliff letterman jacket, arms to the side. Then, the double ignited in the mystic fire of Kurdish magic long forgotten. Clothes morphed and melted away, skin turned black as coal, and orange firelight penetrated gaps in the stony armor-like skin. Fire burned like a wreath around his head, and his eyes shone bright white with the fire contained within his body. White mystic markings were painted all over the body.

Diyar stared in wonder and fear. His double had transformed before his eyes into what looked like a demon. Was this the true power of the name?

It is. Then laughter. Deep, maniacal, evil laughter that penetrated right to Diyar's heart.


Diyar woke up, sweat dripping from his forehead down his face. He breathed heavily, the image of the demon burned in him mind. He looked at the clock across the room.

4:37 in the morning. He wiped the sweat off his face, then looked to see if any of his quadmates had woken up. Satisfied by the silence, he let out a long and drawn out breath, trying to calm himself down.

"It was just a dream..."

But it was enough...Diyar didn't go back to sleep.

"You are a perfect gentleman."

Diyar looked over at the girl hugging his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Her emerald-green dress seemed to billow in the wind behind her, almost movie-style. Diyar grinned sheepishly, blushing.

"Nah..."

Myshka giggled a bit, and then sighed, squeezing his arm. "I had a...wonderful time tonight, Diyar..."

Diyar's smile grew larger. "Yeah, me too...you looked absolutely amazing...all the guys were jealous..."

Myshka laughed, and Diyar could see her ears growing redder.

They were walking through Galaxy City; back to the hotel where Myshka had been staying since the day she arrived in Paragon. He had asked why she was there...she had told him it was because she was "waiting for mother to change her mind." His grin faded a bit. It would suck if she DID go back to Russia...but on the other hand...it wouldn't be all that great for her either if her mother had abandoned her here with Arkady.

"What are you thinking?"

Diyar looked down, raising an eyebrow and smiling. "I'm thinking I was pretty lucky to have the best looking girl out there tonight."

Myshka was looking up at him, smiling. Her eyes...so incredibly beautiful in the moonlit night, and yet...

"Myshka...what's the matter?"

Myshka shook her head. "It is nothing..."

Diyar shook his head, squeezing her closer to him. "C'mon...there's something on your mind. I can see it in your eyes. What are YOU thinking about?"

Myshka sighed, closing her eyes and smiling brightly. "I'm still...cannot believe you kissed me last night...I was so happy..."

Diyar blushed bright red. Ah yes...THAT...heh... He hadn't even been planning it. It just happened. And yet...it was so great. "Yeah...me too..."

Myshka looked up into Diyar's face, and then stood up on her tiptoes so that she could plant a small kiss. Diyar smiled, leaned down to kiss back. Myshka giggled.

There was a small flash, and Diyar retracted quickly from Myshka, confused.

Myshka stood, eyes wide. "Di...Diyar...wh-what..."

Diyar shook his head in shock, trying to clear his mind of the horrible image that had flashed before his eyes.

The shadows...

Diyar looked at Myshka, blinking. She had her back turned to him, and he could tell from the shuddering that she was on the verge of crying.

"Myshka...I-I'm sorry...I just had the randomest thought...I'm sorry..."

Myshka turned, her expression one of confusion and anxiety.

"I know...I saw it too..."

Diyar raised an eyebrow. "Y-you did?"

Myshka nodded quickly, still shuddering. He reached out to hold her. She moved forward, embracing him tightly.

"I-I-I saw the dream you had the other night too...it was awful..."

Diyar held Myshka close, trying to console her. A stray thought entered his mind.

She's psychic...she can read my mind in short blasts of emotion...

Then, an even darker thought, almost immediately afterward.

She's a danger. She'll discover what happened. She cannot be allowed to...

Diyar's face was suddenly stoic. He caught his vision get blurred, began to see shadows around him. He quickly shook his head, focused on the one sound he could hear...

Diyar shook his head suddenly, releasing Myshka. She looked up to see him smack his forehead a few times. Then he looked back up, smiling faintly.

"Sorry...why didn't you tell me you saw my dream?"

Myshka wiped her nose with her hand, prompting Diyar to pull out his handkerchief from his pocket and hand it to her. "I don' know...I 'as afreed..." Myshka blew her nose.

Diyar smiled a comforting smile, reaching out to take Myshka's free hand. "It's ok...I'm sorry I scared you...it was just a nightmare..."

Myshka cried out, surprised, pulling her hand away from his as the night was suddenly lit up in bright red and orange flickering light. Diyar looked down at his hand.

It was black as coal...and fire wrapped around it, playing in the cold night air.

You are a fool.

How is your hand? he had asked her, in his native tongue.

It is fine. I slipped and put my hand on the stove, that's all. she had told him in reply, smiling faintly.

He felt so guilty. He couldn't control what had happened, sure...and she hadn't left him yet...but he was still responsible.

"Diyar? Diyar?"

Diyar looked up to see his sister, Mel, looking over at him, a dish of green bean cassarole in her hands.

"Di, you want some or not?"

Diyar flushed a bit, caught in his daydreaming. "Yeah. Sorry...thanks sis." He reached out and took the dish, scooping himself some and then turning to pass it to his mother.

Thanksgiving was always an interesting time in his home. Diyar's mother had always insisted on staying true to their Kurdish heritage, and so meals were always traditional...

Until Thanksgiving came around. Then, she would always buy the huge turkey, make the sweet-potatoes and pumpkin and pecan pies. Green beans, mashed potatoes. Apple and cranberry sauce.

It's the reason America is here! We should celebrate it like they do. You are all americans...this is important and part of your heritage now. she would always tell them.

Diyar didn't mind it. In fact, Thanksgiving was always a blast. Eating till you wanted to explode. Seeing Granmoma and Granpopa...watching the football games...

But this year, he was still thousands of miles away, back in Paragon City, back with Myshka...

"Diyar? Are you allright, honey?"

Diyar snapped back to the table. Mel was looking over again at him, holding the mashed potatoes, an annoyed look on her face. Avin was giggling with Jasi at the opposite side of the table. His mother had a small smile on her face.

Diyar blushed again, taking the potatoes. "Yeah...I'm sorry, moma..."

Avin giggled loudly, then burst out with a huge smile on her face. "Di has a girlfriend!" Jasi covered her mouth, trying not to giggle too loudly.

Diyar turned even brighter red. Mel was shaking her head, clearly not very impressed. His mother however, joined in the giggling before asking the usual motherly questions.

"So...what is her name? Where is she from?"

Diyar swallowed the bite of turkey he had jammed in his mouth. "Myshka Romanov...she's a friend from school. She's...she's from Russia."

Diyar's mother raised an eyebrow, a small smile spreading wider over her face. Diyar just blushed that much more.

"Well, if she isn't planning on going home for the winter break, you should bring her here for christmas..."

Diyar's eyes went wide, and he snapped his head around to look at her. "Mom!"

His mother laughed. "If she wants to, I don't have a problem. She is welcome to come. Besides..." and she winked to her daughters, "we all want to meet her."

Diyar rolled his eyes, blushing even more and jamming a spoon full of sweet potatoes into his mouth.
____________________________________________

"Granpopa...I need to talk with you..."

Diyar's grandfather looked up from the television. The Cowboys had taken a very commanding lead the last quarter, and so it was easy to get his attention away from the game.

Diyar's grandfather had been a dervish as well, the twenty-second, before Diyar's father. In the years since his father taking over the name, though, "Granpopa" had lived a very good, comfortable life, and it showed. His hair was bright white, a start contrast to his dark brown skin, and his belly had grown quite a bit on fine american dining. His eyes seemed to be half closed all the time behind his glasses, but there was still a sparkle of life in them that shone so much brighter whenever he laughed his deep, joy filled laugh. It was hard to imagine that a man such as this had faced so many horrors in Northern Iraq...

"What is it, Shon?"

Diyar, cringed, not used to hearing his name said aloud, waiting for the flames to flare around him. He relaxed when he remembered he would be fine, that his grandfather could control the power. He took a deep breath before starting. "I...I need to talk to you, about something I saw."

Granpopa furrowed his brow a bit, then motioned for Diyar to sit down next to him. "What have you seen, my grandson?"

Diyar pulled the ottoman from the center of the room over next to his grandfather's chair and sat down. "I...had a dream...and it scared me..."

Diyar's grandfather frowned. "Was it the Flame?"

Diyar looked up, confused. "The flame?"

Granpopa removed his glasses, wiping them with the bottom of his shirt. "The Flame is your inner fire. It passes from dervish to dervish, it is the source of our power." He put his glasses back on and blinked a few a times, getting use to seeing again. "It can manifest itself in your dreams, almost like demon. Black, as coals...fire wreathing it's head." He looked down at Diyar.

Diyar's face was stoic, and he stared at the arm of the recliner his grandfather was sitting in.

"You have seen it, then?"

Diyar nodded, slowly, cradling his right hand. Granpopa noticed this, and sighed.

"Yes...it will happen, Shon..."

Diyar looked up, confused. His grandfather pointed at Diyar's hand. "As you realize more of your power, the Flame will come out more until you become YOUR fire." He got up from the chair slowly and walked over to a bookshelf next to the television. He bent a bit, searching for the album that Diyar knew held pictures of his father.

Granpopa returned, handing the album to Diyar. "Look in there. Towards the back."

Diyar opened the fading album to the rear. There were numerous black and white photos here, just thrown into the book without being put into pages. These were the pictures of his father, and he had looked at many of them as he had grown up.

Diyar pushed the pictures aside, then flipped the back page backover to the front side of it. He gasped, then looked up at his grandfather.

It was the demon from his dream, staring up at him. But the smile...seemed kinder, gentler...loving, almost.

"That was my son...your father, Shon."

Diyar looked up at his grandfather. "Did you turn into this also?"

His grandfather nodded. "I did, as did my mother, and her uncle before her, and his father before him...this is our blessing..."

Diyar shuddered. "Did it scare you too?"

Granpopa smiled, chuckling. "Oh yes...and it scared your father as well. The Flame can be scary...but the key to your power is in working with it in harmony." He reached down, putting his hand ontop of Diyar's head. "You are already very strong, Shon, and you have made me very proud...do not be afraid of this."

Diyar looked up, smiling but still worried. "Thanks, Granpopa..."

They were everywhere. Black mist, solidified and made whole. Deep red eyes staring, taunting. Fanged, red mouths laughing, cursing, shouting at him. And underneath each one, a still figure; face-down, arms flailed out, wounds seeping in their backs.

Avin. Mel. Jasi. Mother.

Brianna. Stephen. Jenn. Jacob.

Myshka.

Attack! Strike swiftly! Dodge! Draw your blade! Strike! Burn! BURN!!

He moved, almost dance like, his blade of flames arcing out and slashing the air, slicing through the shadows that had killed his family. He raged, willing the flames to explode from him in a fireball, searing the shadows that had killed his friends. He spun again, blowing fire at the shadow that had killed Myshka.

There a pain in his side. Pain everywhere. Still he spun through it all, destroying the shadows that had hurt the ones he loved. He turned again, saw more shadows, more bodies. They taunted him again. Again, they called after him. Again, they were hovering over the bodies of those he loved.

Again he took his revenge, his fire passing judgement mercilessly.

"What's wrong with him?"

"Diyar! Diyar!"

He turned around. More shadows, but these ones were less mist-like, and more life-like. He could make out colors here and there in the mist. Something told him they were friendlies, allies. He turned his back on them again and continued his assault.

"Diyar! Stop!"

"Here, let me..."

There was a bright flash.

Diyar shouted in surprise, blinking as his eyes tried to refocus in the dark alley. He dropped whatever he had in his hand, and his mystic armor dissolved as his fire disappeared, revealing his normal clothes. He rubbed his eyes, looking around at his friends.

Layla had her hands on her hips, staring at Diyar, the look on her face clueing him in that, despite his lack of memory, he had done it again. Bobby had ran past him, and was checking to see if the Circle sorcerer was still breathing. Malcolm had a look of sheer surprise and fear mixed together on his face.

Diyar frowned, turning away and looking around him at his surroundings, trying to get his bearings and remember why he was here. Nothing immediatly came to mind.

"You did it again."

He turned and looked Layla in the eyes, then shrugged. "We're all ok..."

Bobby looked up, scoffing. "Not this guy! You really did a number on his fa..."

"Whatever. He'll be fine." Diyar brought his hand up to cover his mouth, then muttered "Shon. Roj Sterk. Agir." Instantly, flames flared up around his body, and his black and gold mystic armor formed around him again. "Let's finish this fight and get back to campus."

Bobby shook his head. "No! WE'LL finish this. YOU go back, man."

Diyar turned and narrowed his eyes at Bobby. "Dude, I'm fine. Besides, we're just about done patrolling this street, she should be just a bit further down."

Bobby sighed, then shrugged. "Fine...but back off when we tell you to!"

Diyar nodded. "Fine."

Bobby turned back to the unconscious mage, tagging him with a small pin that beeped once. The mage dissolved in a show of blue and green lights, teleported directly to a cell in the Zig. He got to his feet, brushing off dirt from his pant legs.

Layla shook her head. "Allright. Let's do this as fast as we can..."

Diyar nodded, then took off ahead of the group.