So, Zamza bought a lighning rune to attach to his left hand and stocked up on medicines and antitoxins, and went to stay with Morgan at his campsite.

After the first few days together, Zamza had begun to consider Morgan a really good friend, maybe, he thought, the closest 'real' friend he had ever had. Morgan told him he was here to train, as he had let his skills go to rust for awhile following his extended contribution to the Gate Rune War. Zamza had asked what the hero McDohl was like, and Morgan told him that McDohl was the most caring, bravest man that he himself had ever had the priviledge to know. Zamza was glad to hear that his former home continent had been saved by such a great man.

As the days wore on, the sun rising and setting to it's own musical symphony, Zamza began to believe in Morgan more and more. He was a good friend, always so jubilant, as if nothing bad had ever happened to him, but also identifying with the weight Zamza carried around his own heart. Zamza had never told anybody about what sometimes hurt hime so, and didn't plan to start now. Nevertheless, Morgan somehow knew it existed, and never questioned him about it. THAT'S what he liked about Morgan.

"You can never defeat me, so you shouldn't even try" Zamza said, inhaling and exhaling uncontrollably loud. He was out of breath and exhausted, not sure how much longer he could keep this up. Zamza went to a defensive stance and braced for the next attack from Morgan.

"Here I come, hope you're ready" Morgan shouted the reply to his friend, as he charged full speed at Zamza. He came at him with a furious set of punches and kicks that left Zamza falling back a few steps, desperatly trying to block them all. When Morgan finally finished his seemingly endless combination, he was barely winded. Zamza couldn't believe it. This man most have the biggest lungs of anyone on the planet, Zamza thought to himself. Now was his chance however, if he waited any longer he would faint from fatigue and Morgan would have the win.

"Oh, no you don't" Zamza bellowed, trying to take the offensive away from Morgan. He threw a wild punch, that of course, hit nothing but air. He came around with his right this time which Morgan easily ducked, and as Zamza's arm passed over him he pulled it down, stuck his foot next to the back of Zamza's knee, and pushed back with all of his strength. Zamza, clueless to the placement of Morgan's leg, fell to the ground clumsily, and was forced to scatter away so he could catch his breath

He got to his feet, extremly weary, but too proud to give in, and once again charged at his companion. he came across with a swooping left fist, which Morgan easily ducked, just as Zamza had predicted. While his left was still streaking across, he stopped himself midswing and dropped a vicious right cross, promptly whacking Morgan straight across the face and dropping down to the ground.

Zamza fell to the ground after him, and quickly scurried on top of him, placing his hand under Morgan's chin. He pushed up violently, exposing Morgan's bare neck, and limiting the amount of air that got through to Morgan's body. Zamza raised his other hand, preparing for the final strike, when he heard Morgan say the words:

"I g-give" Morgan stuttered to say, as Zamza pierced up harder on Morgan's chin. The cool air stung the inside of Morgan's body like a hive of bees exploding inside his throat. When Zamza finally released him, Morgan had never felt anything that hurt so bad, feel so good in his entire lifetime.

"Yes!!" Zamza said, claiming victory. It was the first time since they had begun training together that Zamza had been the victor. He wasn't sure if he had ever been more proud of a victory in his whole life. He realized his skills were growing greater yet, and, Zamza thought, pretty soon nobody would be able to take him on.

They had eaten some wolves they had killed earlier that night, and now Morgan sat silently as Zamza slept quietly across from him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew something was constantly hurting Zamza, like an invicisble clasp always squeezing his heart. It was something that a man with sight might not have noticed. Morgan had learned to use his other senses to seek into men's souls. He could tell by the way a person conducted themselves, either by fighting, talking, or by his actions. And from what Morgan gathered from the way Zamza conducted himself, there was definitly a great sadness there. He knew it wasn't the fact that he got kicked out of his village either, because from Morgan assertained from Zamza, he didn't care for none of those people anyway. So, that just meant that something else had happened to him, and Zamza would tell him when he was ready. No need to rush.

Morgan continued to sit quietly. Zamza began to turn and shift where he slept, and said something that was undistinguishable to Morgan. Zamza was an obnoxious person to be sure, too full of confidence and never afraid to show it, Morgan thought, but after you got past that he seemed to be a standup guy. The problem was, Morgan thought, that most people don't want to get past that, and if they tried, Zamza would usually refuse to let them in. He himself was an oddity, Zamza had let him in, but only after he had given him the ass-kicking of a lifetime. Morgan just couldn't put his finger on what kept Zamza so sad most of the time, despite that arrogant, hot-tempered person that everyone else saw and knew. But Morgan had met the man underneath that ugly exterior personality, and he liked very much what was buried there.

Morgan sat, pondering the training exercise that occured earlier that day. Zamza was becoming a better fighter, he was picking up everything that Morgan was teaching him with alarming speed, Zamza was a better magician than Morgan would ever hope to be. Soon, there would be nothing new for him to teach Zamza, and they would have to split company. Morgan rued that day.

The night continued, the songs of the animals, proving this to be true, and sleep began to come upon him. He would let it take him by unconditional surrender. He wished it upon himself, just as he wished happiness to every other person. He laid down, listening to the rhythmatic sounds of Zamza's breathing, and hoped it would come soon. Sleep took him almost immediatly after, and soon they slept, breathing in unison, with only the dying embers of a once proud blazing fire seperating them.

The room was dark, with only two torches casting a dim light to help expose the barren chamber. Zamza had no idea how he got here or where 'here' was to be exact.

There were no doors or windows in the room from what he could see, but the lights were so dim he could barely see five feet in front of him. He tried to light up Tekkan, but soon realized that he did not have the casings on. "That's strange" Zamza said to himself. He never went anywhere without Tekkan, It was just a foolish, and frequently dangerous habit.

A heavy fog began to seep through the walls, covering his feet and extending halfway to his knees, and the heat began to kick up to an almost unbearable temperature.

Zamza traveled to the closest wall and began to examine it for a door, a window, or anything that would allow him to exit from this dreadful apartment. The search proved what exactly what Zamza had thought: no exits. Zamza moved to the next wall, searching it corner to corner. About halfway through his exploration of the wall, Zamza tripped over something and hit the ground with a resounding thud.

"Ouch" Zamza said, picking himself off the ground. What the hell had tripped him? The room was completely barren save for the two torches he thought. He got down on his knees and began to look, throught the ever thickening fog, for what had caused his fall. The temperature continued to rise and now the heat began to scorch his skin.

After several minutes, Zamza found the object that had caused him to trip. He couldn't see it yet, but the top was round and smooth, and there was no bottom on it, leaving an entrance to the hollow insides of the item. He lifted it out of the fog, his arms now seeming to weigh a ton, and his stomach turned over when he realized what he was looking at.

A skull. A human skull, nonetheless. Zamza pondered how in the world this could have gotten here of all places. He continued to examine the skull and noticed that the jaw bone was hanging loosely from the 'body' of the head. He snapped it back into place, and realized, just barely in time, that it was a trap. Just as he put the jaw back into place, two long, extremly sharp blades shot through the skull's eye sockets. Zamza threw the skull to his right and dove to his left. He got rid of it in time to stay alive, but not in time to get away unscathed. The right blade ripped through the right sleeve of his shirt and cut deeply into his right arm, as he was diving away.

He braced himself for the ground as he dove, trying to protect his wounded arm, yet the ground never came. He continued to fall, past the fog, out of the room, and into an open area with no walls, or as it seemed to Zamza, no end either.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Zamza was on his feet, and once again on solid ground. Zamza looked around again, trying to ignore the tremendous pain emulating from his arm. He was in a cavernous area now, and from what he saw, he was in the middle of a path, whose borders were made up of huge dumps of human bones. He turned around to see if he could find out where this path led to. It didn't go far, as about five feet from where Zamza was standing, the path ran headfirst into a wall. "Only one place to go" he said aloud to himself, and started his journey down the long, winding path.

After about ten seemingly endless minutes, and several twists and turns, Zamza believed he had finally reached the final straight-a-way. The path became a cliff at the end, overhead of a gigantic canyon. The bones followed all the way until the path became a cliff, giving Zamza nowhere else to go.

As he inched his was closer to the end of the path, he noticed something at the end, where it was no longer path, but cliff. It was a heap of something, but from this distance Zamza couldn't make out exactly what it was. He continued forward cautiously, always aware of his surrounding area, and finally was close enough to see what was heaped upon the cliff. Lying facedown, with a sword in his back, was a man, apparently dead. The surrounding area of the cliff was a sea of red, the man's blood, Zamza thought, disgusted. He continued closer, and realized that the man was well built, with black hair. Zamza's breath caught in his throat as he began to suspect. He crept closer, when he saw something that confirmed all his worse fears. Morgan's headband. It was almost entirely red now however, instead of it's once light-blue color.

"Oh gods no..." Zamza cringed. He fell to his knees and tears began to swell in his eyes. No, Zamza thought, I will shed no tears over this. He got back to his feet, and casually began to walk over to Morgan's slain body, not giving a damn if there was a trap along the way.

As Zamza continued to walk over to where his companion was, a body began to crystalize over the corpse of Morgan. He wore a large, black, hooded cloak, that covered him from head to toe. He picked up the corpse by the hair, removed the sword from it's back, and again thrusted it through Morgan's body. Zamza watched with horrified eyes as he realized that Morgan hadn't been dead at all, but now however, most certainly was. Again, the debased individual exhumed the sword from the fresh corpse. Only this time, instead of piercing his sword through Zamza's dear friend, he took his free hand and threw Morgan off the cliff with such a great deal of inhuman strength that even Zamza knew he wasn't getting out of this one.

"You're next" the mystery man croaked, with a voice that sounded very much like the howling of a great tornado. Zamza, frozen by fear, couldn't move from his spot, though there really wasn't anywhere to go anyway. The man began towards Zamza, his already bloodied sword ahead of him. Zamza tried to get a look at who it was under the cloak, but the hood provided an endless tunnel to the person's face, from which, there was no light.

"You cannot kill me, the great magician warrior Zamza! The world would suffer a hurrendous loss and wouldn't know what to do!" Zamza said with all the seriousness of a heart attack, as the man finally reached him. He paid Zamza no stead, and raised his sword to strike Zamza down. Zamza closed his eyes as he felt the sword pierce through his chest and exit his back. The man pulled the blade out, and Zamza dropped to his knees. He coughed several times and blood began to spew from his mouth. He fell on his back his eyes looking at the man who was his killer. He could not even protest as the man once again raised the blade, and brought it down zealously, departing Zamza's head from the rest of his body.

Zamza awoke with a startling jerk, his clothes drenched and clinging to his body. He looked around to see Morgan, not dead, but sleeping soundlessly across from him.

The morning was just arriving, and the sky was a mix of the sun's light and the moon's darkness, resulting in a purplish-pink atmosphere. Zamza could still taste the blood in his mouth and his right arm ached like hell. Something told him that no matter how much medicine he took this pain wasn't going away any time soon.

Zamza began to gather his things then, realizing that he had to get away from Morgan before he got him hurt or killed. He had done that once already in his life, and wasn't planning on making it 2 for 2. He had not had that kind of dream in almost 10 years, and had had none that were that vivid or life-like. But he knew what they meant, and wasn't about to let another dear friend get caught up in it only to lose their life.

"What are you doing?" Morgan asked groggily from behind him. In his haste, Zamza had not realized that he had awoken his friend from his slumber.

"I must leave Morgan. Immediatly. Do not ask why if you are my friend. I have something I must end and you cannot be apart of it. It is my quest, and mine alone, so I must Leave you. I'm sorry. But son't worry, you can always tell people you once had your ass kicked by the great magician-warrior Zamza." he said with a smile on his face that Morgan could not see.

"Each man must walk his own path, I am glad that you have found part of yours, although I must say, I will miss you much Zamza." Morgan said getting to his feet.

Zamza finished his packing, and looked at his friend. "As I will you" he replied, walking over and embracing Morgan in a furious hug.