Soul Stone

The Gauntlet Is Thrown Down

To Kayne Rydell, music was everything. He heard Mozart in the air he breathed, felt Beethoven with every heart beat, and touched God with every power chord sprung from his guitar. He'd always felt this way, but he'd never truly felt the flow of the music, until he'd wandered into a hock shop on a vacation that past summer. He'd been oddly drawn to a mahogany-colored stone for no discernible reason, and but he'd only bought it because it could be had for fifteen dollars. Ever since he'd discovered its purpose, his power chords had grown more.... seismic. Whereas he could initially influence the mind, now he found himself influencing his surroundings in a more active manner. As much as he owed it to his own undeniable genius as a musician, he had to chalk at least some of the credit to 'Night Owl'. 'Night Owl' was somewhat of an enigma to Kayne. He had revealed himself to Kayne on the first day of first semester, promising to teach him to manipulate his new powers in ways he could hardly imagine. The trade-off was simple: Kayne learned how to use his powers to rock the entire world, and all Night Owl asked of him was to collect stones from other students. The first few had been easy hits. Just scrubs who were incapable of fighting back. Now however, he had been given a true challenge. Kael Chayse had allegedly been somewhat troublesome to Night Owl, and was rumored to possess a formidable collection of stones, himself. Not quite to the extent that Night Owl did, but compared to the five stones Kayne had stockpiled, it was possible that this Kael fellow could pose a challenge.

Then, there was the issue of his Kael's dorm mate. He'd recently received word that Zeke Alistair also had a stone. Only this wasn't any ordinary stone. Not that it mattered to Kayne. He wasn't even bothering to bring his entire collection for this hit. He only needed two, as far as he was concerned. He checked the schedule he'd been provided. He sat in the courtyard, which was almost always abandoned. Kael was scheduled to pass by here directly after lunch to go to his fifth period class.

Kayne's brilliant green eyes scanned the sky, smiling slightly as the clouds lazily passed over, and tapped his long fingers on the guitar he cradled lovingly in his arms. His wavy auburn hair lightly blew in the wind, and he brushed a couple silvery strands out of his face, lightly. He chose to dye his hair in this manner, and nobody at the school seemed particularly bothered by it, so long as he wore his uniform in a manner that didn't break any rules. Finally, his eyes flickered toward the entrance-way to the courtyard at the sound of footsteps. He tilted his head slightly to the side, confused that he didn't see anyone around, besides himself.

"Sorry, I don't have any spare change," someone taunted him from above, sitting in a tree from the sound of it.

Kayne twisted around to see someone he assumed must have been Kael Chayse, squatting on a solid-looking branch on an equally sturdy-looking pine tree. "I could never play for the money," Kayne replied cheerfully "I play for the heavens to hear my voice."

Kael had about enough time to raise an eyebrow, before Kayne ran the fingers of his left hand down the strings, before swinging his left arm in Kael's direction. A bolt of white lightning leapt off of his forearm, aiming at Kael's chest. Kael leaped off the tree, barely dodging the bolt and faintly registering the smell of burning wood.

Kayne continued to shred on the guitar, throwing bolts of lightning in the direction of a frantically evasive Kael. A couple of the shots managed to graze him, but the ones that would've ended the fight were frustratingly inaccurate. Kael kicked up a cloud of dirt, running a hand through it, and turning it into a storm of dust, and eerie green light that significantly lowered visibility in the immediate area. Kayne finally allowed the seeds of panic to creep into his mind, as he send bolts in every direction he could reach, before he felt a fist slam into his cheekbone, and send him skidding into a stone wall. He ran a hand over his precious guitar. Luckily for him, it seemed to be completely okay. As soon as he got up, he felt a sharp knee in his gut, before another punch landed directly on his face and hurdled him backwards, clutching at his guitar as though he were a Titanic survivor, and his guitar was the last life preserver for miles of ocean.