Before the Storm

Chapter 1: To Chase... Memories

Author's note: HERE WE ARE! On the anniversary of "Aftermath" we have the sequel we said we'd never do XD

Hefty AN incoming:

One year after I first published AM, it feels a little bit odd to be doing it all over again - only this time with the same characters in a whole new scenario (minus the two best bois, rip). at the time of publication, this story is only halfway written, and not all of the illustrations have been planned because in AM, I did everything I could to make sure that all my drawings were of Achi and Ingry where possible, with obvious exceptions; so I got pretty good at drawing them. here, it's a little tricky to do that, so I'm thrown in the deep end needing to learn how to draw Netherans, Jaggathans and Magnorites (plus whatever Grim is) so there'll be some consistency issues here and there

Now then, for all you gunning for a sequel, this came as a result of a 3am phone call received from Alli after she was pestered by one more person asking about a sequel. this is it. this is her brain we have written. forewarning: it is NOT what most (in not, all) would be expectingwe have made this pretty much impossible to read without having read AM first. if you are here and haven't read AM, then I think you know what you need to do; unless you wanna be heccin confused with the whosits and the whatsits and the whysits

so here we go. massive thank you to my co-writers Joe and Alli once again for working with me on this, listening to each other's whack ideas and the *many* calls I've had with them while I walk between classes; and as always, extended thanks to my readers who make writing these things worthwhile

let's get this disaster show on the road, then XD

(for those reading on Wattpad, I am having a little trouble with the image uploads. hopefully that will subside with subsequent chapters, but I cannot make any promises)

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Dusty. Damp. Disused.

Dirty. Dingy. Dank.

Abandoned.

However, not forgotten.

The Knights of Ardonia had not stepped foot in this place united in too many years. Some would say it was because they had no need to. Some would say it was because they lost too much to go back – that their team died with the last war. Some would say the two reasons were combined – that they had no need to because they lost so much in the last war...

If they could call it a war after the secrets that they had to hide.

Still to this day, no-one knew of the final sacrifice that the former Deathsinger gave to Ardonia in his attempt to gain so much, only to lose it all in the end. There had been many a time that the remainder of the team – wherever they were – had heard past tales of the dreaded Deathsinger and his heated endeavour during the Great War. They heard the way that they still spoke his name with a shiver down their spines, the quick blip in their lips, the pregnant pause as they second-guessed their words. Each time, every single one of them wanted to correct them, to tell them that they were wrong, that they didn't know half the story, that they were spewing exaggerated intentions; but each time they opened their mouths, a shiver was sent down their spines, there was a quick blip in their lips, and a pregnant pause before their words. They couldn't help it.

They weren't sworn to secrecy as they had been. They could shout atop the rooves of cities and yell from high on the mountaintops of the truth they had seen with their own eyes, but it would be futile in the end. No one would hear them for the words they spoke – the truth they uttered.

In the end, they stopped trying, and they let their own making of history fall to the wayside – the lost answers of a truth that people stopped yearning for. The Deathsinger was dead, and that was all there was to it. People stopped asking how. They stopped asking why, or "who did it?" or "who was the hero?"