aller and smaller, until it broke apart and vanished within the raging inferno.
	Fireflashs fire ended when his gas sacs were depleted, and he continued to soar over the ledge and around the volcano again, flying out of sight, even as Tarrin and Dolanna ceased their magical assault.  What he left behind was nothing more than a bubbling pool of liquified rock, upon the surface of which bobbed the sword and shield of the One.  Those two items seemed to shudder reflexively, then their metal dimmed, and the sank slowly into the lava.
	The Ones icon was destroyed.
	The very land itself seemed to shiver, and then the earth shook, earth that was no longer held under the dominion of the One.  It shook as the shadow of the One was pulled away from the land, as his power and dominion were stripped away, even as the last vestiges of the Ones scream of denial seemed to spiral away into some unfathomable abyss.
	The Ones power in this world was gone.

	Far to the east, across the straits, illuminated with a ghostly radiance by the light of the moon and the stars, there was a barren wasteland that was known as Auromar.  It was a desolate mire of earth and rock, a gloomy, depressing place of mud-crusted hills, utter silence, and a cold, clinging mist that never burned away no matter how hot the sun was.  It was a place where not even algae covered the muddy ground.  Nothing grew here, nothing lived here, because of the curse of the One upon the land, a curse that trapped within the boundaries of the land the souls of those who had been condemned to exile there, cursed to an eternity of wandering the mortal plane with no rest, no release, earthbound spirits denied the opportunity to move on, and tormented by the one who had trapped them by denying them release from the pain and hollow emptiness of undeath.  Those spirits roamed the land tirelessly, endlessly, seeking in vain an escape from the prison into which they had been placed.  They were the souls of the original katzh-dashi who had come here thousands of years ago, the souls of their descendents, the souls of those Dwarves that had been captured, and the souls of all those whom the Priests of the One had branded as witches.  They wandered endlessly, their touch killing anything that tried to grow or live on the continent, keeping it a desolate wasteland of earth, rock, and mud.
	They were souls in torment, souls seeking release from this mortal plane, but trapped from finding their way by the curse of the One, forever trapped by a hand that blocked the doorway to the next world.
	The souls all continued to roam, misty apparitions that blended with the thin fog so well that one would not see one until it was too late, searching, searching, searching for a way to circumvent the block that the One had placed over them that prevented them from escaping this world and finding their peace.
	And then the earth shook.
	The spirits of the dead felt the shaking of the earth in their souls, felt the power that kept them bound to the lands of Auromar shiver, then convulse, and then melt away like ice before the summer sun.  They all felt the power of the One shrivel away, and then become no more.
	With unearthly voices that could not be heard by mortal ears, the spirits trapped on the lands of Auromar rejoiced, even as they saw the hand of the One fall away from the passage to the next world.  They did not know how, they did not know why, they only knew that the curse of the One was lifted, and there was nothing standing in their way anymore.
	As one, every soul trapped on Auromar looked upwards, and used their innate ability to pass on into the next realm of existence.  As one, every soul trapped on Auromar vanished, leaving behind nothing but the thin mist that eternally shrouded the continent.
	Mist that began to evaporate with the warm night air.

	It was done.
	The icon of the One was destroyed, Tarrins shadow was even now terrorizing the Demons, and through a stroke of luck, he had managed to temporarily knock the Demon Lord out of action.
	There was only one thing left to do.
	Tarrin looked out over the ruins of Pyros, looked to where the Demon Lord lay, who was even now in the act of getting up. Being struck by his own attack had taken it right out of him, and Tarrin knew that he was in no position to interfere in what was coming.
	The destruction of the One was done.  He could no longer interfere, and his presence had been scoured from the land.  His Priests had lost all their power, and now there was only the Demons to worry about, but they were about to be removed from the chessboard.
	There was only one thing left to do.
	Tarrin looked up at the darkening sky.  The sun had fully set now, and there was only the light of the magma in the volcano reflecting off the low deck of ash and clouds, still being whipped away by the wind.  But the wind feltdifferent, somehow.  The air smelleddifferent.  He knew that what he was feeling, what he was sensing, was a land freed of the oppressive hand of a maniacal, xenophobic god.  This land was again cleansed, was purified of the taint of the One which had darkened it.  The land feltinviting again, not ominous or threatening.  It was a good start, but there was one task that remained to ensure that this world didnt become the bastion of the Demons.
	There was only one thing left to do.  And it was not what Dolanna thought they were going to do.
	They were joined, and her mind was open to him, just as his was open to her.  But their communion went deeper than the usual Circle, for neither of them bothered to hide anything from the other.  Everything that Tarrin knew, everything he remembered, everything that he was, was left open to Dolanna to peruse at her leisure, exposing the entirety of himself to her.  When she saw this complete access to him, she had reciprocated in an act of good faith, daring to lower the barriers to her deepmost private self and allow him to know all of her, just as he had offered up all of himself.
	He knew that she had looked into him and saw what their final task would entail.  He could feel her surprise, her dismay, her fear, but he could also see that the logical part of her mind understood his planned course of action, and agreed that it would achieve the desired results.
	Both immediate and long-term.
	I do not wish it to be this way, my dear one, her thoughts mingled with his own.
	Its the way it has to be, he answered.  Its the only real way to neutralize the Demons, and you know it.  Ive lost the sword, Dolanna.  I had to break it to force the Demon Lord to reveal his true intentions.  The power it once had is still there, its just locked inside the pieces, and it cant be used until the sword is repaired.  We needed the swords power to pull this off, but its gone.  We have to change the plan, and this is the only way I can think of to do it.  We have to eliminate the threat they pose more than the Demons themselves.  Take that away from them, and theyre nothing but glorified, overly ugly soldiers that the mortals can actually fight.
	I understand the need for it, but I dont have to like it, my dear one.
	I understand completely, Dolanna.  I dont like it either.  I shouldnt have broken the sword, but I saw a chance, I gambled, and I took it.  Its coming back to haunt me now, but we cant change the past.  At least we can use the chance that breaking the sword gave us to try to finish what we started, and this is the only way.  Are you ready?
	Ever one to grasp at straws, my dear one, she thought wanly, giving him a wry smile.  But youre right, this could be the only way, so let us not dawdle and squander this opportunity.  Let us do this.  And let us pray that it works.
	He looked down at her, saw the fear in her eyes.  He reached out and put his paw on her cheek, then closed his eyes.  He gently broke the connection with her, breaking the Circle, then waved her back.  She nodded, tears in her eyes, turned and ran towards the slope of the volcano, getting clear of him.
	There was only one thing left to do.
	Breathing deeply, in and out, he prepared himself.  He absently spoke a single word of Arcane magic that called his staff back to his paw, and he held onto it tightly with both paws, paws that were trembling with concentration and anxiety.  He found his center, tuned out the world, became aware only of his own breathing and the dwindling footsteps of his friend and mentor, listening for them to take on the change of sound that heralded her arrival at the slope, which would give her enough space.  She had to be close to him for this to work, but she couldnt be so close that she got caught up in it and got herself killed.  Haley would never forgive him for that.
	Stray thoughts drifted through his conscious.  He wondered how Jesmind was doing, and how Jasana was doing in her training.  He wondered how many hearts Eron had broken since earning his adulthood, and how Tara and Rina were progressing in their education in Sorcery.  He wondered how much his nephews had grown in his absence, and how his sisters Allia and Keritanima were doing.  He could almost smell the bread baking in his parents house back in Aldreth, could almost hear their voices telling him to get in before he let all the heat out, could hear his fathers laughter and his mothers commanding voice.  He felt the deep pangs of homesickness, a home he had left to seek out the lost children of the Goddess and the last traces of the Dwarves, only to have the door shut in his face while he was gone and to be denied returning to where he belonged.
	Oh, how he missed his home.
	Dolannas footsteps changed.  It was time to begin.
	Tarrin opened his eyes and looked down at his staff.  It wasnt the orginal, but it had served him well since he had replaced the one that Shiika had destroyed, had served him faithfully even after it had been supplanted by the sword.  He had never really liked that sword, a sword that was now broken, its two pieces laying on the plateau.  This was the weapon for him, a weapon of elegance, a weapon that looked simple but was in fact deceptively powerful, a weapon that only killed when the wielder wished it to do so.
	It was time for it to strike one more foe.
	Tarrin shifted the staff into the end-grip, raised it over his head slowly, then reversed his momentum and drove the staff downward, plunging the tip into the hardened lava before his feet.  It was a physical act that was but a metaphor for what Tarrin truly did.
	Tarrin used that contact to feel the earth beneath him through the staff, to feel the power of this world, to feel the lurking energy that existed at the core of this plane of existence, the boundless, untamed, undirected energy that he would call the All.  This was the energy that the Demon Lord was here to claim, to possess, the boundless energy of the All.  This was the prize he sought.
	He reached for that power without fear, without hesitation, for only through contact with that limitless power could Tarrin complete his task and ensure that the Demons could not conquer this world.
	He formed his image and intent in his mind, and, mindful of the lack of sentience in the power of this world, he prepared a tightly ordered sequence of instructions to direct the power in its task, a step by step guide to help it perform this task efficiently.
	Tarrin reached deep into himself, deep through his connection to the staff, deep into the core of this world, and he touched the All.
	Nothing he had ever experienced prepared him for what he found there.  The power of this world reacted to him with a haste and eagerness he did not expect, almost a craving to finally be used.  It had no awareness, no sentience, no driving force, it was power in search of purpose, and in Tarrin it seized on the opportunity to serve a purpose, any purpose.  The power of this worlds All flooded into him, all of it, as the entirety of this worlds energy sought to infuse Tarrin in one blinding instant of need.
	In that touch, that initial touch, the truth of what happened on this world became apparent.  It was all there, in the memory of the All.
	The Elder God of this world was no more.  He abandoned this world long ago, long before the One, long before the peoples of this world had left caves and harnessed the power of fire.  He grew tired of the endless loneliness, but was too proud, too selfish to do what Ayise had done and create other gods to help, and to share company.  He was a vain and petty entity, and when he saw no hope of anything better, he abandoned the sacred task placed upon him by the God of Gods, had abandoned his duty to watch over this world and help it grow.  An Elder God was tied to his world by bonds that could not be broken, but this Elder God did find a way to escape the task set upon him.  And when he did, he left this world behind, left it to fend for itself, left it to random chance and the workings of nature.  The Elder God had been forced to abandon his power in order to escape his duty, and he had done so, leaving it behind, leaving it behind in the All.  It had rested there, a power without sentience, power without purpose, without need, for thousands and thousands of years.  And now, finally, someone had touched upon that power and gave it purpose, gave it direction.  For the first time since the original Elder God abandoned this world, the power of the All, the power that the Elder God had left behind, was needed once again.
	There was, no pain.  The power flowing into him was absolutely indescribable, rising beyond the sensation of mere pain so quickly that there never was that sensation of pain.  Tarrin was almost struck helpless by the power that raged through him, power that infused his mind, saw his image and his intent, but looking beyond that, digging into his mind to seek out more and more, raging through his memories, burning into his consciousness, seeking out all that he was in addition to the task laid out before it in his mind.  In an instant, he was infused with more power than even the Demon Lord could bring to bear in this world, for he was directly in contact with the power that had created this universe, and that power obeyed his command.  It obeyed because through him, it could see the dire straits this world was now in, and in his solution it saw hope.
	And so, it carried out his command.
	The earth shuddered.  The wind stopped. The clouds of ash above them froze in mid-boil.  All sound became muted, and there was the briefest of moments of nothing but pure, pristine silence.
	And then there was a scream.  It was a scream of effort, and of pain, as the Were-cat cried out and raised his paws to the sky.  His body suddenly began to glow with an incandescent light, and that light raced up into the sky, piercing the clouds of fine ash and smoke and causing them to flinch away.  The light also went down, down into the earth, extending through the earth and rock and into the molten core of the world, reaching down as it reached up to the very edges of the atmosphere.
	Bits of earth and rock and debris were carried up into the light as a vortex of swirling wind formed around the Were-cat and the shaft of light, a powerful vacuum of wind that pulled everything small into it, so powerful that Dolanna had to grab hold of an irregular rocky outcropping to avoid being pulled into the light and blown high into the air.  The base of the light was a tornado of blowing wind and ash and debris, debris that was pulled into the light and sent hurtling into the heavens.
	That light, that power, should have killed him instantly, for it was a power far beyond that which any mortal would be able to wield.  But Tarrin was more than an ordinary mortal.  He was a MiShara, a Chosen One, a mortal who had within him the unique ability to exceed his mortal restrictions when the need was great enough, reach beyond his own mortal limitation and wield power far beyond that which would be usable by a mere mortal.  Many years ago, for the briefest of moments, the mundane, mortal Tarrin had been the match of a god.
	And now, for the briefest of moments, Tarrin performed an act that only a god would have been able to performbecause the need was great enough.
	That light, brilliant and bright, then broke apart, creating a column of multicolored light that extended from the top of the sky to the center of the world and beyond, a rotating column of the seven colors of the rainbow.  It twisted and writhed, expanded and contracted, and then it burst forth with a multitude of tiny lines that races off in every direction.  The lines racing off were seven individual strands of light, one for each of the seven colors, which braided and intertwined with themselves as they dwindled off into the distance.
	Dolanna looked up with utter awe.  She knew what he intended to do, but to see it, to see and know that he was doing it, she was dumbfounded.
	Tarrin was building a Weave.  And this was not a Weave that would occupy only the area within a prison designed to trap the Demon Lord and his minions.  No, this was a Weave that would encompass the entirety of this world.

	All over the world, the lines appeared.  Soldiers of the One, villagers, Priests, the Dura, from one side of Pyrosia to the other, even peoples on distant lands who had never heard of the One, all of them looked up into the sky and wondered at the mystical event transpiring.  They saw the rainbows of light race across the sky with such speed that it defied imagination, extending from horizon to horizon in the span of only a few heartbeats.  Then more lines reached out from those first, going off in every direction, up, down, left, right, some descending into the earth, some going only a short distance to intersect with an existing line and join them together, growing more and more numberous with every passing moment.  They began to fill the sky, they began to pepper the land as they descended into the earth, crisscrossing through the air in seemingly random patterns.  They caused a panic wherever they penetrated the ground, causing people to flee from them, to escape this strange and unheard of event.
	And then there were the witches.
	All over Pyrosia, auras of light erupted into being around certain people.  There was no plan, no logic to them, they seemed to appear around people at random, from homeless street urchins to the Priests of the One to the soldiers to craftsmen to nobles.  They did not understand what was happening, even as a rainbow streamer of light would erupt from the nearest of those rainbow lines and strike them, causing them to freeze in place and their expressions to take on something approaching a perfect balance of fear and ecstacy.  They did not know that they were the descendants of the original katzh-dashi, they did not know that the one thing that tied them all together was their shared blood, and the fact that the power of Sorcery lurked deep within them.
	They did not know that it was by the beating of their hearts that they would support the creation that was forming around them.
	A Weave could not exist without Sorcerers.
	It only took a moment, a moment that was both brief and eternal.  One moment.  In one moment, the rainbow lines of light had managed to stretch across the entire world, until this Weave was a large as it could be and still be supported by the lives of the Sorcerers that existed in this world.  It could be no larger than this, but it was large enough.
	The Were-cat within the heart of the origin of this titanic magical creation jerked his paws down, snapping the major column of power in which he was located, which created a shuddering shockwave in it.   the rainbow of light blazed with sudden white light as the seven flows were snapped into strands, as the Weavespinner within the center of this magical web performed the task that was both his duty and his responsibility.  He was suikun, Weavespinner, a Sorcerer with the power to create new strandsand create them he did.
	The massive column of light around him blazed with white radiance, and that radiance raced away in every direction, traveling up and down the rainbow lines, transforming them into feeders, strands, junctures, nodes, feathers, and Conduits.  The major Conduit which formed the center of this vast web shimmered, and then began to pulse with the unified beating of the hearts that supported it.  The guiding mind within that main Conduit then reached back, reached through the aether, reached across the dimensions to touch on another Weave, another power, another guiding force.  It touched that other power, touched on a goddess that was immediately awestruck at what was reaching for her, but she did not reject that attempt to reach out.  She reached back with her own hand, and those hands clasped somewhere between the boundaries of reality and oblivion, a place that even the gods could not completely comprehend, a place that did not actually exist, but existed despite its lack or existence.
	It became the Heart, the center of power, and this new Weave immediately supplanted all other magicks and enforced a new set of rules and laws that governed the use of magic within this world.  The power of the Goddess of Magic, the power of Niami, the creator of the laws of magic that existed on Sennadar were suddenly supplanted into Pyrosia, and the Weave of Pyrosia altered the very fabric of reality to change the rules by which magic would function within this dimension of existence.
	All over the world of Pyrosia, the new creation that now enveloped the world glowed with a brilliant light, heralding for all to see the arrival of a new age, the beginning of a new time.  For this was the Weave, this was the power of magic, and this was the new law by which magic would function within the world of Pyrosia.  It was a new rule of magical law that immediately denied the Demons access to any of their powers, rendering them powerless, with only the training that they had received in Arcane magic to fall back upon, as the stern hand of Niami reached from one world into another, and then closed the door of access between the Demons and the nefarious source of their power.  It glowed and shimmered, and then that light slowly faded away, leaving behind the impression that it was gonebut it was still there, hidden from the eyes of the mundane, visible to those who had the special gift to sense it.
	It was still there, and it would remain so until the end of all things.

	From within the Heart, Niami had felt Tarrin reach out to her, reach out in a way that she did not think possible.  She had reacted instantly to his plea, had reached out to him and touched him across the dimensions, had joined with him in a moment of unity, almost as if she had Circled with him.  She could feel his pain, but even her godly mind was awed at what he was doing, at what he had done.  He was creating an entire Weave by himself!  She had given to him everything he needed, then felt him join his creation to her own in a way that allowed her to reach back through that connection, to establish the rules and laws of magic and Sorcery that existed on Sennadar, and to specifically deny the Demons on that world the ability to use their innate magical powers, as was her ability and right as the goddess that commanded the use of magic.
	It had seemed so, so easy.  Something on the other side of that connection was fueling this staggering power, and that was when Niami realized that Tarrin was using the power of the Elder God of that world, touching the All of Pyrosia and using it in a way that would be utterly impossible for any mortal to accomplish.
	The connection flared, and for the briefest of moments, she was again in intimate communion with the mind of Tarrin Kael, with her kitten.  All of his thoughts, his memories, his feelings, everything was open to her, and she absorbed the totality of him with the speed of thought that a god could manage.
	And then the hand he had reached across existence pulled out of hers, and fell away into the dark oblivion of that place that existed but did not exist, falling back into the mortal reality of the plane of existence in which he currently resided.  Niamis hand reached out, reached as deeply into that oblivion as it could reach, but it was not far enough to regain a hold on him.
	Within the center of the hedge maze, blanketed with freshly fallen snow from a late spring snowstorm, there was a pristine fountain, atop which was a remarkably beautiful statue of a nude woman.  That statue suddenly moved from its usual pose of arms out in welcome.
	The statue fell to its knees atop its pedestal and buried its face in its hands.
	And it wept.

	The light faded.  The blazing column of light which had been the Conduit of the new Weave of Pyrosia faded into invisibility for those eyes who did not have the gift to see it.  Dolanna looked back towards the Conduit, could feel it shuddering, and in a moment of awful clarity, she realized that it was growing unstable.  It was threatening to unravel, to tear itself apart, and it was creating a Weavequake that shook the entirety of this fragile new creation, threatened to tear it apart.  She looked to her friend, her dear friend Tarrin, and saw that he laid crumpled on the harsh rock, and that he was not moving.
	She understood what was happening.  She got up and ran to him, plunging into the Conduit and falling to her knees beside him, and the instant she came within the boundaries of the Conduit, its shaking, its degeneration stopped.
	There was no Goddess here.  The Weave was stable, and would remain stable, only so long as there was a conscious guiding force present to keep its integrity.  The instant Dolanna entered the Conduit, she became that guiding force, and it was by her will that the entire Weave remained stable.  It took almost all of her concentration to keep the newborn Weave coherent, but she could spare enough attention to pull Tarrin around and onto his back and look down upon him.
	His face was ashen, and his eye were closed, but there was the oddest expression on his face, an expression of satisfaction, and a slim, slight smile graced lips that were bluish in color.  She touched his face, and found that his flesh was cold, unnaturally cold.  She put two fingers to his neck, her heart twisting in her breast, dreading doing so because she already knew, deep in her heart, what she would find.
	There was no pulse.
	It had been too much for him to bear.  Tarrin had succeeded in creating this new Weave, of rewriting the entire laws of magic that governed this world by creating a Weave, of bringing the presence of the Elder Gods of Sennadar into Pyrosia, and then reaching out to Niami to have her breathe life into it, to have her enact her rules of magic into it that would alter the way magic worked on this world.  This Weave had been created by Tarrin, but since his mind was mortal and could not comprehend the truth of magic, he had reached out to his goddess and had her perform that final task.
	But for him, it had been too much, even for the power of a suikun, of a MiShara.  The task he had tried to perform using the All had been too great, and there was only one penalty in Druidic magic when a Druid tried to perform magic beyond his ability.
	The All of Pyrosia had done as he asked, but it had taken everything that Tarrin could give, and more.  It was a testament to him that he had managed to complete the spell, to create this Weave, but the All had taken everything from him in order to complete the spell.  Absolutely everything.
	Tarrin Kael, her dear friend, was dead.
	She began to weep, but there was a fierce pride within her as well.  No one else could have accomplished what he had done here today.  Not a god, not any other mortal.  Tarrin had reached into the very fabric of this world and had altered it, and he had created a new Weave, a Weave that Dolanna could feel, could touch, could use, only so long as she remained within the Heart and provided the guiding force that kept it stable.  And so long as the Weave remanied, the Demons were denied their magic, as well as the Sorcerers regaining access to their own power.  The Weave was hers to command, answering her call for its power, and she understood.
	Tarrin was dead, and that was why the new Weave had threatened to unravel into nothingness.  The sword was broken, and Tarrin had passed away.  The plan had depended on either of them, but now both of them were gone, and there was no longer any link back to the Weave of Sennadar, no way for the Elder Gods of Sennadar to reach into this world and maintain the Weave, and no way for them to protect her from the Demon Lord.  There was nothing to hold the Weave together, no guiding sentience that would keep it from unravelling, except for Dolanna.
	This was why he had needed her.  He needed her take his place as the living will of this new Weave, should he fall during its creation, and remain so until some way was found to link this Weave back to the Weave of Sennadar, and allow the Goddess to reach into this world and take control of its Weave.  
	There was much to do.  She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and then gently laid Tarrins head on the harsh, unforgiving stone.  She placed his arms upon his chest in peaceful repose, and then stood up.  She called upon the power of this new Weave to lift her into the air within it, bringing her higher and higher, and then she touched the Weave and felt it respond to her call.  For now, she was its guiding force.  She was the power within the Weave, she was the living extension of its power.  She was the closest she would ever get, at that moment, to ever being a god.
	Tarrins shadow, the last remnant of him, was out there right now killing Demons.  She had to help it in that task.
	I WILL NOT FAIL YOU, DEAR ONE! her voice thundered across the ruins of Pyros.  The Demons all looked towards where her voice had orginated, and they could feel the entire magical creation around them began to become saturated with power, as the sentient force that now guided it prepared to strike.  The Demon Lord looked to where the human was, and understood what the Were-cat had done almost immediately.  He knew that staying at Pyros would be utter suicide, for the Sorcerer could annihilate his forces.   It only took a fleeting test of this world to understand what he had done, and how he had changed things, by getting a god from another world to help him redefine t