ed it?  Even from the grave, the dead god of darkness still plagued him!  It didnt make any sense!  How did it survive?  How did it hide as Bane without anyone sensing it?  How could the shadow of a dead god exist when the power of the god that created it was irrevocably destroyed?
	The Firestaff!
	It had drawn power from the Firestaff!  It didnt rely on the power of Val, it drew its power from other sources!  Of course, that was how Val did it!  It was nothing but a magical creation, a construct, a thing, but Val had created it in such a way that it survived after his own destruction, and so long as it continued to find energy to sustain itself, it could continue to exist!
	That meant that it had only a limited amount of power!  If he could make it use up its reserves, he might be able to weaken it to the point where he could destoy it!  After all, it had left its magical armor and all the protections behind with the husk that had held it.  Tarrin could use magic against it now!
	That wont work, kitten! the Goddess warned.  No mortal can strike at the power of a god!  You know that!   That shadow may be nothing but a creation, but it has the same protections as a god!  It is a god!
	Tarrin was about to reply, but a blast sent him flying into a wall, then he bounced off and found himself skidding to a stop on a major street, hearing the terrified cries and shouts of those who had been wary about the series of explosions that had gotten closer and closer had reached them, seeing them scatter and run in every direction.  The inky shadow that was the wrath of Val was racing up from behind him, screaming and cursing at him, and the sight of it triggered a sudden cold fury inside of him.  It may have the protections of a god, but Tarrin had faced up to stronger gods than that, and had not backed down.  With a savage roar, Tarrin opened himself completely to his power, and the full and total might of the Weave rushed into him like an avalanche, causing the Sorcerers Star to form around him, lifting off the ground with its power.  The Goddess pleaded with him to run, to flee, but he tuned her out and prepared when another of those black blasts of power rushed at him.  He reared his arm back, and then slashed it across his body in a backhanded motion as the leading edge of it reached him, focusing all his power into turning that power aside, away from him.
	It was like getting hit with a Giants hammer.  The full force of the shadows divine might struck him, but pure stubborn fury would not allow him to yield.  He felt a sudden angry burning through his whole body as he pushed against that power with his own, pushing it to the side, pushing it away, deflecting it, until it changed direction and was sent flying into a building beside him, which instantly exploded in a furious cloud of dust and debris which concealed the shadow of Val from his sight.  But he could sense it, feel its dark, cold power push against the Weave, could sense it as easily as if he could see it with his eyes.
	Fool! the shadow screamed in glee, and then the entirety of its power was crushing down on him.  Tarrin responded as he had years ago, reaching into himself, deeply into himself, calling forth every bit of power he contained.  Sorcery, Druidic magic, Priest magic, Wizard magic, all four responded to his call, joined and merged into a single cohesive whole beyond any magic that any mortal could ever hope to control, the full realization of his power as a MiShara, and used it to stand fast against the full might that was being struck down upon him.  It pushed against him with inexorable force, and he screamed in outrage, in fury, in desperate need to stand against that power, to again spit in the face of Val.  By sheer force of will, Tarrin stood in the face of that power, and then divided it in twain with a scythe-like cut of his own merged magical might, sending it to either side of him.  The silversmith shop behind him was struck at both corners, and then the entire structure exploded in an angry blast of smoke, dust, and flying shrapnel against which Tarrin protected himself with a sheld of Air.
	Vals shadow looked just a little surprised when Tarrin burst from the dust cloud with his paws raised over his head, as raw, unbridled magical energy arced between the Cats Claws.  Tarrin focused that power, changed it into Sorcery, and then wove the single most devastating, deadly, and inescapable spell that he knew, the one spell against which there was no protection.
	A black ball of utter darkness, even darker than Vals shadow, formed within his right paw as Tarrin snapped the spell down and released it, arcs of blue lightning dancing across its surface. Tarrin turned and hurled it at the shadow as it advanced towards him, raising its hands to attack again, and the ball expanded to about three times its size when it left Tarrins paw, trailing streamers of blue electricity.  Vals shadow brought itself up short and put out a hand as the ball streaked at it, then, to Tarrins surprise, the shadow caught the spell.
	He could sense it clearly.  It was designed to activate upon touching anything solid, and then suck anything it was touching into oblivion.  Vals shadow was touching the ball, but that touch did not activate the spell.  That was fine to him, however, for it was his spell.  With a slashing snap of his arm, Tarrin reached into the weaving of the spell and triggered it, which caused it to start pulling in the air around it, creating an instant howling gale as air and bits of small debris were picked up and sucked into utter oblivion.
	But the spell had no effect on Vals shadow.
	The ball of darkness collapsed in on itself and then snuffed itself out, but Tarrin did not wait.  He wove a complicated spell of Air, Water, Earth, Divine, and Mind, including token flows of the other spheres to grant the weave the power of High Sorcery, snapped it down, and then released it so fast that no Sorcerer alive except Spyder would have been able to even keep track of what he was doing.  It manifested as a whip of blazing white light, a single line of magical potential, and Tarrin lashed it at the shadow of Val with a swipe of his arm.  The end of the whip struck the shadow squarely in the chest, and in that touch, the spells true purpose was triggered.  The whip became a conducting path for magic that only took, did not give, a spell designed to strike a Sorcerer and drain him of his magic.  The spell latched onto Vals shadow and sought out the power within it, tried to siphon it away, drain it off like punching a hole in the bottom of a tankard and letting it all drain out.  Vals shadow stopped its advance and gave a look of surprise, for the spell was working.  It had touched the stored magical potential that Val had drained from the Firestaff, and it was trying to draw it off, drain it away.  But that look of surprise turned to wicked amusement as Tarrin felt something within the shadow wrench, and then the whipline shuddered as the flows within it became unstable.  They tangled up, two flows of Earth crossed, and then the entire spell collapsed on itself.  Tarrin released his grip on the spell and backed off quickly as the jumbled mass writhed, as more and more flows crossed and cancelled, until the remains of it exploded in a Wildstrike.
	The Wildstrike of any spell of High Sorcery was eventful.  An ear-splitting BOOM shook the entire city block, shattering windows and sending a brilliant surge of light out to illuminate the entire city.  It was just as powerful as the bolts of explosive blackness that Vals shadow had been hurling at Tarrin, and it caused both Tarrin and Vals shadow to fall back from the point of explosion, Tarrin shielding his eyes with his arm.
	Vals shadow hurtled out of the remnants of light and dancing motes of charged magical energy that remained, then pulled to a stop and raised both hands.  Tarrin felt it build up its power, felt that it was going to unleash all the might it could bring to bear against him without depleting its reserves.  Tarrin anchored himself in midair, the star around him flaring, doubling its size as he mustered everything within him and focused it, deciding not to defend, but to counterattack.
	As Vals shadow unleashed another blast of utter darkness at Tarrin, Tarrin unleashed a concentrated torrent of pure, raw, unshaped magical energy back at Vals shadow.
	Those two blasts of power struck one another head-on, and in that touching they found a barrier that they could not overcome.  Jags and tendrils of black energy and blazing white power were twisted away from the great globe of competing energies that formed the meeting of two opposing powers, shattering and destroying everything they touched.  Every building facing the street where the two duelled was reduced to rubble within seconds as writhing whips of black energy or white power raked across them, caused the matter of them to explode, melted them into slag or incinerated them into ash in the blink of an eye.  For a long moment, the point of contact between them did not move, as the mortal Tarrin held his own against the power of the creation of a dead god, but a creation wielding the last traces of might that that god had once possessed.  Anchored to the very fabric of existence, the Were-cat pushed at the power being used against him with all his might, his eyes narrow slits, his mouth twisted into a savage snarl as he drew power from the Weave, from the All, from those places beyond his universe which were open to being touched and used, throwing absolutely everything he could at the shadow of Val.
	And just as before, Tarrin, a MiShara, proved to be the equal against the power of a god.
	But the power did not stop.  Val had eased up, been distracted by the conjunction, by the Firestaff, where this shadow of him sought nothing but his annihilation, and did not relent.  Tarrin put both paws before him, as if to push against the power contending with his own with his paws, strain showing on his face as he felt his power waver, weaken, as the limits of his mortal body were reached, and then surpassed.  He could control more magic than any mortal on Sennadar as a MiShara, but his body was still mortal, and it was never meant to handle such power for long.  He felt himself slip, and then slip further, and then the power roaring from within him faltered.  The shadows power overwhelmed his own in that moment of weakness, consuming the blazing light which opposed it and raging towards him faster than Tarrin could comprehend.  It totally overwhelmed his magical assault and then slammed into him, like being crushed under a mountain, even dislodging him from the fabric of the universe and driving him back.  It carried him along with it as he was pushed out of the air, into the ground.  He focused all his remaining strength in a desperate, frenzied attempt to protect himself from the power that still sought to obliterate him, protect against what he knew was coming, as the earth under and around him exploded from the power of this shadows magic.  It took ever fiber of his being, took every ounce of his strength, but the Sorcerers Star around him did not waver, did not fail, serving as a barrier to keep the power of the shadow of Vals attack from making direct contact with him.  But Tarrin had been forced to focus almost all his power forward, leaving him vulnerable to the flying debris that erupted all around him, and he felt it drive into him, tear through him, impale him with a thousand tiny needles of ferocious pain.  And still, despite that, he somehow managed to protect himself from both the shadows magical attack  as it continued to try to engulf him, consume him, destroy him, until the shadow of Val finally, after what seemed an eternity, ceased its attack.
	When the smoke and dust cleared, the shadow of Val found itself staring down at an inert form, the Were-cat Tarin Kael, who had been the one who had destroyed him.  Tarrins face was bloody, his left paw was missing, sheared off by shrapnel, and he was panting heavily.  His eyes were dazed, unfocused, as he tried to swim through a sea of wet cotton to find his senses once again.  The attempt to fight the shadow of Val with magic had utterly drained him, and he was too weak to do anything else but stare blankly up at the boiling, living shadow, as it leered down at him in grotesque anticipation.
	And now, it purred in a hideous voice, you are dead.
	Tarrin looked blearily up at the divine creation, and then felt a distinct oddness within him.  Somehow, some way, something connected to him, reached into him, through him, reaching within and through the Cat, and touched the power of the All.  He felt its intent, saw its image within his own mind, and to his utter shock, the All responded to that desperate request.
	Before him, hovering in the air, appeared his black-bladed sword.  But before, where he felt nothing from it, now it shimmered with a power untapped, a power he had never sensed within it before, a light that bathed him and all around him in a golden glow, a power, he sensed, that was a reaction to the tremendous danger before him.  The shadow of Val looked at the sword, and a ripple of utter terror flashed across its shifting face, and it lunged forth with its power to crush Tarrin before he could lay a paw on that weapon.
	The power lashed out at him just as he reached up and grabbed hold of the hilt of his sword--
	--and it was turned aside as a brilliant eruption of flame suddenly exploded out of the weapon, which acted as a soild barrier to the utter darkness, causing it to split into many tendrils of power and deflect away.  Tarrin felt himself picked up by the weapon as it raised into the air, felt its fire blaze forth and expand, flowing up his arm, over his torso, then surround him.  It enveloped him as the fire suddenly raged upwards, into the heavens, burning away the clouds and the rain over him.  The power infused him, and in that fusion he felt a power unlike any power he had ever felt before flow forth from within his soul and bathe his entire body in a holy pyre of incredible power.  He could feel it, he could feel it saturate him, join to him, change him, empower him.
	He could feel the power become one with him.

	Those rare few who looked on from street corners and behind piles of rubble saw a vision they would never forget.  They saw the infamous Tarrin Kael, trapped by some unholy monster of living darkness, enveloped in a blindingly bright ball of fire.  That ball blasted upwards to form a brilliant column of blazing fire that reached all the way into the heavens, burning away the clouds as the sound of its roaring rolled ove them, a deafening sound.  The shadow recoiled from that column of heavenly fire, shrank back from it as it blazed and cast its light upon the city, until the fire seemed to suddenly just stop, as if frozen in its place by some invisible power.
	The fire then contracted, collapsed into itself with breathtaking speed until it again formed a ball of solid fire, fire that did not move or flicker or waver like fire normally did.  The dark shadow stared at this solid mass of fire with wild, terrified eyes, shrinking back more and more from it.
	And then the ball opened.
	The solid fire of its outer perimiter unfurled like a flag, flowing to one side.  And then the layer beneath that also unfurled in the other direction, pulling away to reveal what lay at the center of its solid mass.
	Within was the Were-cat Tarrin Kael, but now his fur and his hair were afire, and the two leaves of solid fire which had unfurled to reveal him were attached to his back, pulling up and folding away to form wings.  Floating in midair, the amazing figure opened his eyes, eyes that glowed green with majestic, terrifying resolve, and it raised a black-bladed sword whose curved blade billowed with angry reddish-yellow flames.
	The shadow of Val screamed in sudden terror and fury, for it knew the truth.  It knew.
	It knew, as did all the gods who looked down upon them, that Tarrin Kael had somehow reached into the divine soul within him and touched its power, and had brought it forth to change his mortal form into something capable of expressing that hidden, boundless energy.
	The shadow of Val no longer faced Tarrin Kael the Sorcerer, or Tarrin Kael the MiShara, or even Tarrin Kael the mortal.
	Now, it faced Tarrin Kaelthe living, mortal god.

	Despite the terrible majesty of his appearance, or the look of shock on Vals face, Tarrin was utterly confused.
	He had an idea of what had just happened, and he could feel it inside him.  He knew that the sword had somehow triggered this, had been the key that had unlocked this hidden power, had changed him.  He could feel the power, the absolute power, well up from within him and all but beg to be commanded, to be used.  He knew that the power of a god was within him, and that power was now at his command.
	He just had no idea how to use it.
	The sword had changed his body into something that would allow him to access the power within, but it had not changed his mind.  Tarrin was still Tarrin, not a god, not a divine being, but a mortal, who now had the ability to use the unstoppable might of a god.
	And that was something that was never meant to be.
	Absolute power did him no bloody good if it didnt come with an understanding of how it was used.  Like an apprentice Wizard stumbling across the masters spell book, Tarrin found himself in command of vast, unmitigated might, but didnt know how to use it or control it.  That instinctive understanding of things he had gained when he had first become a god was not in him now, and he saw the power within him as a confusing and terrifying force.
	He didnt know what to do!  He didnt know what to do!
	The shadow of Val knew what it was doing, and its shock at this unexpected development was very brief.  With an infuriated howl, it hurled more of its power at him, another black bolt of deadly divine power that raged towards him.  But now, it didnt seem as intimidating as it had but a moment ago.  Tarrin realized that he was hovering in midair, and nothing but a shifting of his wings caused him to slide sideways, slithering out of the path of that attack.    His wings spread out as he dropped to the ground, and then vaulted into the air again, wings spread and carrying him forward, taking up his blazing sword in both paws and falling back on the only thing he really knew how to do; fight weapon to weapon.  The shadow of Val retreated from that burning sword hastily, fear in its glowing eyes, then produced from its inky blackness a rod made of solid shadows.  Tarrin gave a furious cry as he streaked towards the shadow of Val--a figure five times his size--his wings trailing tongues of flame, and then brought his sword down at the dark apparition with all his might.  The shadow of Val raised its rod to defend, and in the touching of those two weapons there was a blinding flash of light.  A wall of power shimmered into being between the two clashing titans, writhing and twisting as the power of Tarrins sword battled with the might of the rod in the hands of the shadow of Val, as Tarrin pushed down with all his strength even as the shadow of Val pushed away from it.
	The power became too great, hurling both combatants away from one another with a blinding release of light and power.  Tarrin flared his wings and landed on the broken ground, fiery feet skidding to a stop, the touch of them melting the stone beneath them, the air around him becoming superheated and causing the wooden shards scattered through the stone and plaster to burst into flame.  The shadow of Val was pushed back, slamming into the remains of a building, and causing it to collapse from that impact as it slowed it to a stop.
	Laying his ears back, Tarrin gave a furious roar and charged forward again, flying through the air, but having no idea how he was doing it.  As he hurtled at Vals face, he tried to make sense of the overwhelming sense of power within him, tried to pick through it and see if he could understand any of what he was feeling.  But there was nothing but a confused jumble of energy, nothing he could comprehend.  The only thing he had managed to work out was that the wings of fire on his back were just like real limbs, under his control, and he found he had a fundamental understanding of how to make them work.  They were shaped like wings because that was how he chose them to appear, and he knew that he could make them anything he wanted.  They were made out of solid flame, of living fire, and fire was a mutable form.  They could be arms, or tentacles, or stiff rods, or anything he so desired, because the shifting nature of fire allowed them to alter their size and form at his whim and will.
	The basic understanding of that was what caused him to pull up from his headlong charge and then sweep his wings forward, commanding them to shift their form.  Two wings of fire stretched, elongated, becoming twin tentacles of writhing flame which lashed out from over Tarrins shoulders and formed deadly sharp spear points, seeking to impale the shadow of Val on their solid, fiery lengths.  Vals shadow also shifted its form, flowing out of the path of those twin lances of fire and allowing them to pass to either side of its unnaturally shaped form harmlessly, then flowed back and out from between them before he could bring them together and entrap the shadow of Val in a grip of death.  Tarrin withdrew his lances and allowed them to return to the form of wings even as he hurtled forward with his sword leading, a sword that seemed to shimmer in his paws as it sought to destroy this unholy manifestation of a dead god.
	It was not a sustained battle of wills this time, it was a sharp strike of power against power, sword against rod--a rod longer than Tarrin was tall--as Tarrins sword struck the shadow of Vals rod of shadows again, then again, then again, as the transformed Were-cat used what he knew to drive the shadow of Val back, keep it off balance, tried to plunge his fiery sword into its inky black depths.  Each brief collision between sword and rod caused a flash of light and a cascade of multicolored sparks as the airborne, winged Tarrrin battled against a foe five times his own size, engaged the immense black form that was the shadow of Val without fear, without reservation.  Even if he didnt know how to use his power, he knew that it was there, and so did Vals shadow.  And its presence would serve as a major point of intimidation for the shadow of Val, as it worried and fretted and wondered when Tarrin would stop playing this game and attack it in earnest with his divine power.  That was why the shadow wasnt unleashing more of those dark blasts of power, it was trying to build up more power from the Firestaff to use to protect itself from Tarrins answering attack.  Tarrin assaulted the apparition with amazing fury, burning sword leaving arcs of fire behind it as he lashed out at the giant, inky form, but could not penetrate the shadow of Vals defenses.  It was so large that its slight movements caused Tarrin to move considerably to counter, and Tarrins furious assault turned into a sudden defense as the shadow of Val surged back, driving the much smaller transformed Were-cat before it as it advanced.  That black rod came in from every direction, slamming into his raised sword and then out of reach before the Were-cat could retaliate.  The shadow of Val had an overwhelming size and reach advantage, and it was using them now to keep Tarrins sword out of reach of it.
	Out of nowhere, a second rod of shadows struck Tarrin on the right side and sent him flying, a rod held in the other hand of the shadow of Val.  He cartwheeled through the air several times before righting himself, his feet striking the side of a building, and leaving behind glowing, smoking footprints in the gray stone when they withdrew.  Tarrin skidded to a stop on the ground, his right arm smarting from the impact, but the blow had done no serious harm to him.  The shadow of Val advanced confidently, a rod in each hand and a sudden evil, hungry grin on its face.
	You havent come into your full power yet! it announced with sadistic glee.  You are a chained tiger!
	Power!  Power!  Vals shadow was being fed by the power of the Firestaff!  He had no power of his own, only what he could take from other sources!
	That was the answer!
	With a similar sadistic, unholy smile, Tarrin reached out with his paw and fell back to things he already knew, things he could already do.  He reached within, not through the Cat, but through the power inside, and touched the All.  His image and intent were clear, concise, and the All responded to his command.
	The Firestaff appeared in Tarrins fiery paw.
	Vals shadow seemed to flinch, and then it withdrew from him in shock.  It had forgotten, so swept up in the power of its might, that the Firestaff belonged to Tarrin, and as a Druid, Tarrin could Summon anything he owned or had once touched, no matter where it was, no matter who controlled it.  All it took was enough power to carry out the spell.  And Tarrin had that power.  Just because he now has the power of a god did not mean that he could not also use the magic he could command as a mortal.
	Tarrin had stripped Vals shadow of its only source of endless power, and now it had only what it held within.  Now, it was vulnerable.
	Tarrin sent the Firestaff back into the elsewhere, for the amulet was still around his neck, still functioned, and then took his sword up in both paws, spread his feet on the ground, and waggled his tail at Vals shadow insultingly, daring him to attack now that he no longer could draw power from the Firestaff.  There are many kinds of power, shadow, Tarrin said in a cold tone.  And now you have none.
	With a howl of fury, Vals shadow let go of both dark rods and then leveled its hands at Tarrin.  He felt its power focus, build up, garhering behind a holding dam and waiting to be let loose.  He studied that feeling, analyzed it, and tried to do the same thing himself.  He focused on the power inside of him, within him, and willed it to move, to gather, to focus and prepareand to his surprise, it obeyed!  He gathered it up within him and focused it into his sword, raising it up over his head in preparation.  The wings on his back suddenly flared out and expanded, instantly growing to five times the size they had been before, the tips of them going from one side of the street to the other and setting fire to everything beneath them.  The fire surrounding his chisel-tipped weapon exploded out from the blade in angry waves, cascading down to wash over him like the shining love of the Goddess within the Heart.
	His eyes wild with fury and shock and fear, the shadow of Val unleashed its might, opening the floodgates of its dam, and a torrent of ultimate black energy roared from its hands, raging towards the transformed Were-cat, who was surrounded by a nimbus of bright red fire.  Tarrin did the same, releasing the focused power within as he whipped the sword down, pointing its tip right at the face of Vals shadow.  Fire flared out from the weapon, and then concentrated down to a single point, from which was unleashed a bolt of angry red energy that tore through the air as it streaked from him and towards the form of the shadow of Val.
	For a second time, the energies of both combatants struck one another.  But before, where the effect was dramatic yet contained, there was no such containment in the direct confrontation between the might of two gods.  Every building within a hundred spans of that eruption of wild, primal energy which was the meeting of Tarrins power with the shadow of Vals was instantly shattered by a tremendous shockwave of concussion, sending bits of burning debris flying into the air and all over the city that surrounded them.  The power of Vals shadow struck and was destroyed by the power of Tarrins might, as was Tarrins destroyed in return, and the release of that much power into the world was more than it could handle.  The earth began to shake violently and the coulds above began to swirl and rotate above the blazing, shuddering orb of raw power which was the physical meeting between two opposing powers.  Blazing gouts of fire and pure magical power were torn from that point of impact, powerful bolts of lightning raked through the air, and waves of pure force were flung from that burning mass, exploding violently when hitting the ground, knocking down even more buildings, setting fire to the very stone of the broken street itself.  Tarrin focused more and more of his power into the sword, his wings growing even larger as if they were some kind of physical indication of the power he was exerting, sending an undending torrent of immense power at the unholy creation of his long-dead adversary.
	Slowly, inexorably, the firestorm of destructive power which formed the boundary between Tarrins power and the shadow of Vals moved.
	Tarrin pushed that exploding, burning, annihilating sphere of mingling destructive energies away from himself, sending it towards Vals shadow, winning the dreadful contest by overwhelming the power that the shadow of Val was exerting.  It was forced to increase in kind, to stop Tarrins power from getting closer, which drained its limited reserves faster and faster.
	Just as Tarrins mortal body had weakened and faltered under the shadow of Vals relentless attack, now Tarrin tried to do the same to the shadow of Val, trying to make it burn up all its power.  And when it did, then it was dead.
	His adversary understood this, but it was too late.  It could not withdraw from the battle of power without getting annihilated before getting away.  It was trapped in a battle it could not win, unable to overwhelm Tarrin yet unable to disengage without being destroyed.  The shadow of Val howled in fury and outrage and unleashed everything at Tarrin in a desperate attempt to use that brief, massive increase of power to quickly overwhelm him, but Tarrin had been expecting such an act.  In a sudden move, Tarrin pulled back his power from the contest and reformed it before him to act as a solid barrier against this monstrous assault of power, shifting from an attacking posture to a defending posture, wrapping his wings of fire around his body to protect it from the onslaught to come.
	Defense will 