One of the perks that comes with being a four thousand year old angel, is that you are surprised very little. It is very rare that someone can creep up behind you and startle. You almost always saw or heard them, meters before they reached you. For Kratos especially, surprise was uncommon thing. He prided himself on seeing everything before it got to him, and being able to predict the actions of predictable beings such as humans, elves, and even half elves.

Because of this, he was at the door, ready and waiting for Yggdrasil's messenger. The messenger, a blank faced, stone featured angel, didn't disappoint him. "Lord Kratos, Yggdrasil wishes to speak with you." He said in a calm, controlled voice.

"I understand," Kratos replied, starting down the hall towards the warp that would take him to Derris Kharlan- Yggdrasil's preferred place of rest.

At the gate, there stood an old withered keeper- a dragon. Thousands of years ago, Kratos, Yuan, and Mithos had tracked him down, fought him, convinced him that they were honourable, and brought him home. The once powerful beast, now stood at the door, protecting Derris Kharlan from imaginary enemies.

"Lord Kratos," the dragon's deep, raspy boice held slight traces of respect. Even with all the mistakes Kratos, Yuan, and Mithos had made, he respected them. Not everyone was skilled enough to command a beast like him.

"I wish to pass," Kratos said, bowing slightly, showing his own appreciation for the dragon. The gnarly form moved aside, allowing the doors to swing open, revealing Yggdrasil awaiting him.

"Kratos." Yggdrasil was turned away from the door, facing a large, earthy plant- the great seed. Inside the plant, floated a woman, shining with light.

She was tall, her form stretched out, her head touching the top of the seed and her feet just floating inches away from the bottom. Her hands were clasped over her chest, as if in prayer, and a peaceful smile rested on her face. Upon further inspection, the smile might be described as sorrowful. After four thousand years, there was no doubt that sadness flowed throughout her.

"Kratos," Yggdrasil said again, turning to face him, but keeping one hand on the seed. He eyed the man who had once been his mentor and then stepped forward, hands falling limply to his sides. "We're so close," a spark kindled in his eye and excitement was alive in all his features.

"The Chosen's journey is about to begin," Kratos said, urging Mithos- for while he contained his tall, angelic form, his delight in his sister was truly Mithos- to continue.

"Yes," Mithos said, smiling happily, like a child. "The Chosen with the closest mana and blood lines to my sister is starting her journey. Martel will be revived."

Kratos shifted his position impatiently. When it came to Martel, Mithos would ramble for a good while before getting to the point.

"I'll bring you back, Martel," Mithos had turned back to gaze upon his sister. "Once you're back, everything will be right again."

Kratos stared silently at Martel, imagining what she would say to Mithos, no, all of them, for what they had done. He blinked and pushed the thoughts away. It was easier to hold on to Mithos's promise that the worlds would be reunited when they succeeded. It was simpler to trust Mithos, hoping that he'll regain his saneness.

"Kratos?"

He turned his attention back to Mithos, who was quickly fading and being replaced by Yggdrasil.

"Yes, Lord Yggdrasil?"

"I want you to accompany the chosen." Yggdrasil's eyes were cold, like steel, and a malicious smile hung about his lip. "Think of it as a chance to redeem yourself. I finally trust you enough to let you out for the first time in fourteen years. I believe that I won't be disappointed?"

"Of course not, Lord Yggdrasil."

"That's what I thought." He moved closer, uncomfortable so, and put a hand on Kratos's arm. "The AO12 incident was years ago. You've regained your sense since then." When Kratos remained unmoved, Yggdrasil nodded approvingly.

"You'll leave for Iselia today, as soon as you're packed," he continued. "You'll find the Chosen at Martel's Temple."

"I understand."

"Good, then you're dismissed."

Kratos bowed and then left, the vaguest feelings of relief plucking at him somewhere from within.

A few meters from his quarters, he sensed the presence of an intruder and his hand moved to his hilt, but it relaxed as he recognized the presence of Yuan.

"What do you want?" He asked, opening the door.

"That's a fine welcome after a friend's long absence."

"Why are you here?" Kratos asked again, his face stoic. This was unexpected, though not surprising. He hadn't had any contact with Yuan for a few years. Not since right after the AO12 "incident."

Yuan made a show of sighing before turning to business. "What did Mithos want?"

Kratos glanced at the man who had once been his comrade. He knew so little of him now. "That's irrelevant to you."

"Shall I guess? He's sending you to Iselia to join the Chosen."

"Perhaps," Kratos replied, walking to a chest in the far side of the room. He opened it and kneeled down, taking the things necessary for his journey.

"So, you're first time leaving Welgaia and you're going to the very place that An-"

"Yuan," Kratos interrupted. "If you have no business here, I suggest that you leave."

Yuan looked at Kratos appraisingly, as if trying to come to a conclusion. "Very well, I suppose I'll leave you to prepare yourself for your debut to Sylvarant."

"I thought that one's debut was their first appearance. You know as well as I do that I've been there before."

Yuan waved away the technical aspects of words with a hand and then opened the door. "Picky as always. Well, I suppose you'll be of little use." With that, he left, leaving Kratos to ponder the words he'd muttered under his breath. Use for what? He shrugged it off; Yuan had always been odd, though once Kratos had been able to understand his differences. That was many years ago though, and now the two knew very little of each other.

Kratos shook his head as he rummaged through the chest for gels and necessities. His hand grazed something cold and metallic. Confused, he picked it up and held it up in the light. It was a necklace, an oval locket hanging from a golden chain. Kratos slowly, almost unwillingly, slid his finger into the little slot and opened the locket, revealing a picture of three people. He looked at it for a second before closing it and chucking it back in the box.

Kratos rose, checking the sword at his side and the other various weapons hidden upon his person. He seemed to be ready. Opening the door, Kratos stepped into Welgaia, then to the tower of Salvation, and finally Iselia.