Chapter 1: Under a Crescent Moon

~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~
	Ardice groaned painfully as the light of the teleport
assaulted her senses with its magnitude. Raising her head
fractionally, she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots
from her dazzled vision. Strong, unfamiliar fingers brushed
her cheek gently, and she flinched away-only to bump into a
pair of legs that felt as solid as trees. She barely
remembered to form the syllables of the coarse Terran language
as she mumbled, "Leave me alone."
	"It would be most helpful if you stopped struggling, my
lady." The voice was fairly close to her, which meant the
speaker was directly in front of her.
	'Good,' Ardice thought savagely. When he reached out to
touch her a second time, this time with fingers wet with
something cool and soothing to her throbbing eyelids, she
kicked out instinctively and smiled triumphantly when her
booted foot met its mark.
	"Oof," he grunted, out of pain and shock. He was
General Neph Sylvain, King of the South, and no woman-or man,
for that matter-had scored such a clear hit on him since he
had been but a boy. Suddenly, rough hands pulled him upright
before he could jerk away (for his manly pride), and Sylvain
found himself staring into mocking azure eyes.
	"You know, Sylvain, a man of your years and experience
should hardly be bested by a mere lass," the blonde man
chided. His curling golden hair fell in short waves over his
head and into his light blue eyes, and there was humorous
grin on his handsome face-all of which (the eyes, the hair,
and the grin) along with his charming personality, had
enchanted a sizeable percentage of the female population in
each of their four kingdoms combined.
	Sylvain was _not_ drawn in by the smirk and replied
with a few vulgar remarks about where he could take and what
he would do with his unwanted comments.
	Pyralis merely flashed him a wide grin and turned his
attention back to the girl.
	Meanwhile, Ardice had rejoiced in the return of her sight-
and looked up to meet frigid green eyes that reminded her of new
leaves encased in ice. She shivered at the coldness radiating from
him.
	"It is unwise in these lands to attack those that are trying
to help you." The man addressed her impersonally, tone and manner
neutral.
	Despite his relaxed stance, a contrast to the seemingly
stone-limbed man next to him (whose legs she had accidentally
come into contact with moments before), Ardice sensed the
readiness in his lanky form and tensed. 'Remember,' her mind
admonished, 'there was a reason for this escape to Earth: to
keep you alive. It wouldn't do any good for you to be rash
and get yourself killed by these men, would it? Think! Kiora
agreed with you, because she knew Isa would be her fiery,
headstrong self-no matter what.' She bowed her head and let
shimmering, dark brown tresses fall forward in shining waves.
'It was a cowardly thing to do, fleeing from the Moon. My
life is worth nothing.' Before the other half of her inner
voice could retort, she felt icy hard fingers dig into her
shoulders. The pressure was bearable, but the stinging
coolness of his touch sank through her clothing to raise
unsettled prickles on her skin.
	Zoi Marinel was the King of the West, had been well-
educated as a child, and picked up on anything and
everything-including her hair color, her eye color, the
clothes she wore, and the lilt to her sweet voice. "Your
name and your purpose in these woods, if you please."
	Blinking up at him, Ardice replied in bemusement,
"Surely you don't expect me to tell five men, perfect
strangers to me, my name in the dead of night in some
dark forest? Oh, but it seems I've forgotten your
singularly _helpful_ nature."
	Marinel's eyes met hers, moonlight-the pale,
silver light brought a choked feeling to her throat-
emphasizing his deftly-carved features and the sharp
angles of his face. "My friend over there used a salve
on your eyes to allow you to see once more, and your
repayment of his foolish kindness was to lash out and
throw him against a tree. Tell me, do many women have
such good reflexes-not to mention instinctual
knowledge of what's before them, half-blind-so they
can hurl a man several feet away? I think not. And you
clearly possess magik, however you may try to deny it."
When her eyes widened perceptibly as she tried to
struggle out of his hold, Marinel barely moved as his
fingers tightened their hold. He almost had it...there.
This woman, whoever she was, had subconsciously been
fighting his sincere attempts to reach her inner core,
from which he had to heal her rather extensive
injuries. Normally he would not have been so quick to
heal, but Roshaun had sent him a telepathic command to
do so-for the Commander General wished a word about
these strange lights in the forest. "Yes, magik," he
continued smoothly, "for there are but four of the five
men of our company visible. Nitesh-it appears you may
emerge from your comfortable clump of underbrush now.
I ask you once more your name and purpose-and I will
not ask again. If you do not answer this time, the next
inquirer will be the King of the Earth. And if you think
I'm being a ruthless bastard, I assure you that he is
much worse-and of my legitimacy."
	Pyralis grinned slightly, for he had always enjoyed
toying with the biting humor of his green/gray-eyed friend.
Stepping forward, he tapped the other blonde man's shoulder.
Marinel looked backwards for a split second, nodded slowly,
and eased off. Sylvain cast him a look of gratitude that
they both ignored.
	"My name-my name is Ardice." Suddenly, she felt as if
there was a crushing weight upon her eyelids, and she was
dismayed to find that her line of sight was blurring once more.
Looking up through long, chocolate lashes at them accusingly,
she asked, "What did you do to me?"
	"He's healing you." The soft, comforting voice met
Ardice's ears just as she drifted off. As she crumped to the
ground, Sylvain caught her gently and looked around at his
four companions-none of which appeared particularly pleased
with him.

~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~
	Isadora, wary of her new location, was met with a harsh,
stinging wind. Within seconds, her bared skin and lips felt
chapped and dry. The second thing her mind registered was a
starting coolness. She cracked open her eyes, which were gritty
and sandy, and nearly fainted when she saw what was before her:
miles and miles of endless tan sands, as far as her eye could
see, with no help anywhere at all. There seemed to be no life
in this desert, not even plants-there was nothing between her
and the frighteningly low sky. Isadora pushed back her thick
fall of luxurious, dark raven hair, getting to her feet as she
stared at the heavens above. The Moon was a glowing silver
crescent, dangling so close to her that she could imagine
reaching out and touching it, plucking it out of the sky to
hold close to her. There were stars, too-great twinkling white
lights tha were as bright as diamonds.
	But the Moon had reminded her of her friends, the falling
of the Kingdom of Light, and...her home. Isadora felt her knees
give way at last and cursed herself fiercely. She was so alone,
with only the enticing beauty of a satellite and gleaming balls
of gas for company. She stiffened when a great pearly droplet
fell upon her finger. Stranded in some forsaken, isolated spot
of sparse desert without any supplies or hopes of finding any,
Isadora knew better than to waste her body's precious water
reserves. She knew she should go on, pick a random direction
and walk on and on in hopes of finding shelter or aid (although
it seemed entirely improbable), but she was so tired and weary.
There were numerous bruises and slashes all over her body, it
was a chilly desert night in frigid air, and her clothing,
which had never been considered sheer until now, was tattered
and torn from the battle on the Moon and falling into the
forest.
	Curling up on the smooth sands beneath her, Isadora
assumed a fetal position and shut her eyes tightly to prevent
the tears from escaping. Before long, that lone figure was the
only being beneath the stars and above the moonlit sands.

~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~
	Meriel gasped, instinctively trying to draw in breaths of
fresh air, and fell to her knees as a dozen cold knives cut
into her chest and lungs, filling them with icy wind. Tears
dripped down her cheeks and froze there as her delicate skin
was scraped raw in a matter of seconds. The dark-haired girl
tried to stand once more, but this time, she slipped on the
frozen crust of ice beneath her-or was hurled down by the
howling wind that brought onslaught after onslaught of biting
sleet. Meriel lay with her cheek pressed to the hard ground,
crumpled and battered like a rag doll thrown against a wall.
She reached up to touch her stinging lips, and her fingers
came away darkened with scarlet blood. There was no way to
stand, no help, and no hope.
	All at once, Kiora's sunny-sweet voice spoke in her
mind. 'Love. My name means love-may you all have the
opportunity to find it somewhere and sometime. I love you all;
good luck."
	She struggled to hold back tears. It was so like her
friend to wish for everyone except herself. But where was the
hope in these polar wastelands where she had landed? Their
miraculous, desperate teleport had worked-and brought Meriel
to an icy tomb where she would freeze and die, buried in a
casket of frozen snow and ice...fitting, somehow, in a way
she could not and did not want to describe.

~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~
	Annamika's dainty nose, unused to the odors that
reached it, wrinkled in her sleep at the stench rising from
the bogs. Her faithful guardian and fellow princess stared in
half-fascination, half-disgust at the murky, oily yellow-brown
swamp they had landed in. Bubbles rose to the greasy surface
sluggishly, popping one by one in a hiccup-like manner.
Mud slurped back from the edges of the pools of liquid in sucking
sounds, clinging to the dirt and rock not yet eroded. Sulphurous
gas rose in thick, veiling mists from the strangely steaming
ponds. Sighing, Kiora bent down near her sleeping friend, slumped
on the dirty ground, and passed her hand gently over the glowing
crystal embedded in a brooch nestled on her chest. When the light
faded, she bent down and murmured, "Sweetheart, do you want me to
carry you, or can you stand?"
	Startled awake from her doze, the silver-haired princess
looked up at her wearily as she attempted to struggle to her feet.
"I'll-I'll try, Mi-Kiora. Where are we?" she inquired sleepily
as she stumbled over some stones in their path.
	Shaking her head, the blonde woman scooped the other up in
her arms and replied, "Somewhere on Earth in a deserted swamp, thank
Selene for the deserted part. Come on, put your arms around my neck
so you don't slip and fall."
	Even as she complied sleepily, Annamika protested, "You're
tired, Mina, and I'm too heavy."
	"Call me Kiora," she reminded gently, steadying her
questionable hold and footing. It would be a long, perilous
journey to find safety and her queen. Kiora bit her lip and cast
her thoughts determinedly away from Venus; she looked up at the
crescent moon glimmering through the marshy foliage and prayed,
'Selene, may we all survive in the end and meet again...someday.'
~*~		~*~		~*~		~*~		~*~

AN: Hm. It seems that things are shorter when they're not typed.
*shrug* At least it's better quality writing (I hope). I hope
everything is okay with the revised version of Refugees...this is
how I'm going to do it, instead of splitting into four books with
chapters, I'm splitting it into chapters with uh...books. ^^;; I
hope you understand what I'm talking about. Hope, hope, hope. Lots
of hope usage. (If this note seems a little weird, it's because
it's very late at night-for me-and my brain no longer functions
after a certain hour.) Hope you enjoyed. ~Ice