Hi, Back again.

I know each chapter is quite short, but the truth be told, the inspiration for this fic is slow coming. At the moment I'm trying to establish the plot for the rest of the fic while also writing the chapters.

I know my writing leaves a lot to be desired and I wish I could give you all a better quality fic. But this is the best I've got.

So without further ado...

Chapter 3: Again?

Ann is the sky, flighty and light, Ki is the Earth, grounded and calm. Bel, The Warrior. The destroyer of Chaos. God of the Ghostly plane. He is belonging to the shadows.

Long, the story will be told, that THEY shall come again. Born from those that dwell in existence. Outside of Eternity. They shall face the Chaos. The battle will be great. But from Chaos, that realm is Born and so to, It shall die.

But if He should fight. The Lord of Lords, crossed over from the Ghostly Plane. If Bel and Ki and Ann together battle. SHE will return to the Center. Time will move again.

Anzu looked at his Tablet, Stolen from the Gods before man existed. He ran is finger across the indented words and nodded to himself.

He shall not fight, Bel will not fight. That poison was HER essence mixed with Death and the blood of a slain God.

No, Cain will not arise again.

Anzu placed the tablet in its protective casing, only small and yet the universe is printed over the surface in the language of the Gods.

What happens next will mean the End. Anzu smiles and takes his natural form. Time to leave this hellish existence.

THEY stand around her. THEIR chant unintelligible to any language that ever was or ever is on Earth. THEIR cloaks are removed, and they stand with THEIR palms raised, power shared between them. THEY are the SEVEN; THEY are directed by the GODS. THEY have no remorse or compassion. Her screams mean nothing. She is necessary to HER. THEY will do HER bidding.

The Time is drawing nigh. SHE will need a body.

Piper sat in the kitchen, her sister beside her. Their hands were clenched together, as though that connection was all that held them to the earth. They crowded in on each other, shoulders touching. Their expressions were shell-shocked and every shuddering breath they took seemed too heavy, too loud and the noise grated Piper's ears.

"It's alright. Everything is going to be alright." she heard a voice repeat again and again. She was shocked to find it was her voice, reassuring and calm, speaking to the oppressive silence.

Piper stood up and moved to away from her sister, she hastily wiped tears from her face.

"I should," she gestured to the phone on the wall by the patio door. "You know, call Paige."

Prue looked up at her, her eye's slightly glazed.

"Why?" She asked her voice seemed petulant. "She isn't our sister. Not really. Not in the way that..." Prue stopped, tears dripped from her face. "But I suppose the same could be said for Phoebe." she muttered. Her soul seemed broken and it hurt Piper to look at her.

Piper turned from her sister to face the phone on the wall. Her hands clenched at the bottom of her top convulsively. She knew Phoebe had changed in the last twenty or so years. Her young sister had been pulled into the darkness with that Demon Cole. Piper and Prue had pleaded with her, time and again to come home, with Cain and rejoin their family. But the 'Queen' had resisted. Piper didn't know if anything of the Phoebe she'd grown up with had remained at the end. She reached up to unhook the phone but collapsed onto the ground. Heaving sobs wracking her body. Her little sister was now truly dead.

Chris woke up, fully, not long after falling, (crashing is closer to the truth, the impact of merging with whomever's body he'd taken had been like parachuting with no parachute.) into his new body. As he opened his eye's he felt rather than saw a shuffle of bodies somewhere near him. He picked himself up slowly, and his senses were then only aware of the pounding in his head and the acrid smell of sulfur in the air. The floor beneath his hands was either rock or stone, it was cold and jagged and something sharp was pressing into his hips. With considerable effort, he heaved himself off the floor and took stock of his surroundings. In his opinion, things didn't look that good. In fact, Chris thought, I think I'd prefer to be dead again.

Surrounding his new body were a lot of Demons, and by that Chris thought in slight wonder, he meant ALL of them!

It looked like a sea of gnarled, wrinkled and horned faces with skin color ranging from a sickly green to bloody red, oh wait, no, that WAS blood. Still there were plenty of bodies in that particular ocean that were not covered in blood but were still a variance of the color red. Chris wondered why this was all he could think about when he was so grossly out numbered. No power of three to save him now.

He collected himself and took stock of his magical energy. What he found both astounded and shocked him. His witch powers were still there, a familiar presence that comforted him. But the place where is white-lighter power had come from was empty or rather was never there and instead and dark and monstrous power, black and horrific was in its place. It sickened Chris; it terrified him.

But maybe this power could help him escape from this hoard of demons. The power welled at his fingers, urging him to use it, its insidious nature guiding Chris in how to direct its path. The power built and then exploded outward. Then Chris's world went black. Again. He was kind of sick of it.

TBC

Next: Hello Death!

Love

Saine.