You set your phone down when a customer walked in - a boy with fluffy brown hair and an oversized jumper. You watched him wander between the shelves for a few moments, looking sort of lost, as most boyfriends and/or husbands did when they came looking for gifts. Shame too - he was cute. Still, you walked around the counter and over to him to offer your help. You stepped up beside him next to the candles. "Hi, are you finding everything okay?" You asked. "Oh, uh." The boy jumped a little. "I'm just looking for some candles." He said. "Gonna be honest... I'm kind of lost, yeah." You laughed a little. "Would you like some help?" "Yes, thank you." He sounded relieved. You grabbed one of the shopping bags from the nearby rack and handed it to him with a smile. "So are we looking for something for the girlfriend, or mom, maybe?" "Oh, um no." He said, flushing slightly. "I just needed some candles for me, actually." Your smile widened. So no girlfriend... a interesting development.

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK THREE --- What a wonderful little secret this was though. If you hadn't been able to follow the signs you would have never found it - a real travesty. Everything you could possibly need resided here in some form or another - feverfew sprang up in little bunches from the ground, accompanied by echinacea. Gingko trees around the place offered their leaves down to you in little bundles. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought someone had planted it all here... A rustle from the bushes behind you stopped your train of thought in its track, sending a shiver of panic down your spine. Your hand withdrawing from the bundle of milk thistle it had been about to grab, you slowly turned, mind filling with all a matter of wild animals that could be lurking in this wood. A pair of soft brown eyes peered out from one of the clumps of brush, staring directly at you.

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK TWO -- Approaching Anoitos' temple again, you opened the door, turning as you stepped inside to close it again. The door closing with a satisfying clunk, you spun back around, intending to just quickly bow your head and grab your beads without much circumstance. You were not expecting to see a man, mid-way through stuffing his face with the plate of offerings you had brought, at the altar, his eyes blown wide with panic and focused on you. You stared back at him. "I- you- what are you doing? Who are you? How-?" You turned halfway back to the door, intending to run for one of the guards. "Wait!" The man's voice drew your attention back to him, just in time to see his appearance shift slightly - like there was something behind the mirage of his skin. For a moment - the man was gone, and in his place, a living replica of the hulking gold warrior depicted in the statue took his place. Your hand dropped from the handle of the door, staring up at the god before you. Out of all the times for your prayers to be answered... and of all ways, like this... "See?" He said, shrinking back to the man you had seen before, the boyish smile you knew so well still on his face. "It's just me!" Standing before you, with crumbs of bread on his face, was Anoitos, somehow - impossibly - in the flesh.

THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE BOOK ONE --- Your eyes trailed up to the balcony, taking stock of the man who was perched there, hands resting on the railing as he peered down at the crowd that had just entered the room. Broad shoulders were only accentuated by plated armor, polished to a bronze sheen. You had seen this man before, during military processions and that sort of thing. The prison warden, and one of the caesar's previous champions. Samuel. The warden of the prison underneath the colosseum.

"I understand. You heard the place you loved was in trouble, so you came back, but I don't-I just-why didn't you take me?" Here it was, at last. Catharsis, or something close to it. "I would have hunted them down with you, Philza, the people who did that to your town. I would have given you your vengeance on a silver platter. I would have given you the world." Philza didn't look guilty. He just looked tired. "I didn't hunt them down, though." // Or, that fic where Techno and Phil are old immortals, and Tommy and Wilbur are decidedly... not. Angst ensues. //

The song ended as you merged onto the highway and another familiar song started up - not by Myra but by an adjacent band to the Myracle Makers that you also liked - the Dream Team. You had found out about them through Myra's music (Spotify thought that they went together well) and you had fallen in love with a couple of their songs, and then a couple more, until you were in their top .5% of listeners. They were one of your favorite bands, and their song Florida Smile was a song for the soul. You smiled to yourself, turning up the radio. The familiar beat of the drums pumped through the speakers of your car and you began to sing along as the lead singer - he went by Dream as a stage name (like Dream's Team... haha) - began to sing. You knew all the words by heart. And you've got a Florida smile... sends my heart racing to the mark at the mile...

The door opened, and you were faced with a young man about your age. He filled the whole doorframe with his height, though he was kind of lanky looking. A few brown fluffy curls stuck out from underneath his beanie, and he wore glasses, looking down at you. "Oh, you are rather tall." You said, the words slipping out of you before you could stop yourself. You clamped your mouth shut before the rest of the thought could slip out as well - he was rather fit, too. He blinked quizzically. "Um, sorry?"

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK FIVE ---- Tryst (noun): a private romantic rendezvous between lovers, "a moonlight tryst". ---- Your eyes drifted upwards catching onto the glint of the sword that had saved you and following the curve of the blade upwards until you came to a knarled hand, with dirt under the fingernails. You followed the arm upwards until you reached his face - partly obscured underneath a green and white striped hat. You were able to catch onto blue eyes and the scruff of a beard underneath a mop of blonde hair though. What drew your attention most though, was the crow's wings behind him, flared out and glinting by the light of the sword. You hadn't even heard him swoop down for the approach. For someone who hadn't been seen in over a century, the Angel of Death looked young... too young. But then he was spinning away, wings flapping behind him so that he hovered over the ground as he sliced through anything that came too close for comfort. Even the skeletons a ways away weren't safe from his flames when their zombie counterparts came staggering too close. Soon enough, the dark forest was alight with burning undead creatures, providing a light source for you to stagger up to your feet as the Angel slid his sword back into it's scabbard. You weren't expecting him to round on you like he did, fire in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 4 --- Gladius, (noun): (in ancient Rome) a short sword. --- Eret perked up as soon as you and Simon walked into the room, a wide and welcoming smile coming onto his face. He was softer looking than his father had been, but you could still see some of the similar traits. He had a head of thick dark curls, and the same sharp jaw that his father had had. He wasn't as bulky though - he was tall and thin - and his face was a lot more open. What separated him most from his father's likeness though was the colorful cape, and the large mirrored glasses he wore - swirling with colors reflected from the room. He stood from his seat when Maven let the doors swing shut behind her, that wide smile still on his face. "You must be the embassy." "And you must be King Eret." You said, stooping into a bow. "Oh, there's no need for that." Eret said as you rose from your bow. He stepped down from the dias where his throne sat - colorful cape trailing behind him - and came to stand in front of you, taking your hand instead. "I'm not really one for formalities." He grinned, shaking your hand. His palm was warm against yours, and you could feel some slight callouses - most likely from practicing his sword work.

PHANTASM SERIES BOOK 3 --- Hiraeth (Welsh pronunciation: [hɪraɨ̯θ, hiːrai̯θ]) is a Welsh word for longing or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that no longer exists or never was. A deep and irrational bond felt with a time, era, place or person. --- You were close enough that you could see the crew scurrying about on deck now. They looked as ragged as the ship - no sense of unity about them other than that they were all standing on deck together, swords brandished as you approached. You scanned over them and felt suddenly grateful for your sailing uniform - some of those pirates didn't even have shoes. Simon strode the deck, scanning through the ranks for the captain of the Ghost. You had been given some indication as to what she looked like, but when she parted herself from the ranks of her crew, you weren't quite ready for what she actually looked like. They didn't do her justice on the wanted posters back home. She was short, but powerfully built. You could see ram horns sticking out from underneath her extravagant hat, and her coat was a bright blood red - the gold trim faded somewhat. You were most focused on her hair though - pure white and absolutely massive, it looked like a cloud around her head. Stern eyes finished the look, and you couldn't help but be a little bit entranced - this was the kind of person that people were scared to make eye contact with. Simon didn't seem all that frightened when he came to stand on the edge of your own deck, facing her over the narrow strip of sea that separated you - and you were grateful. If you were captain, you didn't know if you would be able to look her in the eye.