Mystan, right-hand of Lord Yerith, sat and watched the battle though Yerith's crystal ball.

Born Mystan of the Benekasbeel Clan on the Fourth Moon, he himself was no warrior. While powerful in his own right, the thought of participating in actual combat sickened him. Not because he disapproved, but because he was squeamish. This was unbecoming for any yerin, and all were surprised when he had years ago been chosen to be Yerith's second. He was also surprised, and though he submitted himself for the job, he hadn't expected to get it. The yerin were demon warriors, so what good was Mystan?

Apparently much, if one were to believe Yerith, lord and race-father of the yerin, or as the Plundarens called them, the Lunatacs. His former right-hand was a warrior-queen of the Lunar Clan, but she had vanished long ago. Yerith worked alone until a few years ago, when rumours of the war began. Perhaps warlike Lord Yerith wished his new second to be his opposite?

Though the crystal, Mystan functioned as an extra set of eyes for Lord Yerith. From his non-corporeal vantage point, he could see most of the immediate battlefield. If an enemy, one of the Pure, tried to sneak up on Yerith, Mystan would warn him.

Not that the Pure were much for sneaking. The main fighters of the enemy were what Lord Yerith called the Warriors of Light and Flame. Humanoid creatures with wings of fire, Mystan always found them an interesting race. Supposedly creatures of goodness, but with a ruthlessness and violence that could top most demons. Of course, they had to if they wanted to defeat the Fallen...

Lord Yerith was one of the Fallen, a creature that was once one of the Pure, but didn't take to it. For millennia the Pure and the Fallen fought minor battles, neither side gaining the upper hand. This time was different. This time, each side was bent on a permanent win.

Mystan noticed one of the Warriors closing in on his lord, and quickly warned him to the attack. In the crystal, Yerith turned, catching the fire-being in the shoulder with a bolt of dark magic.

The yerin were different from the other demon tribes. Lord Yerith was not as powerful a sorcerer as the other Fallen, so instead of creating his followers, he moved to an uninhabited solar system, started life, and let evolution run its course. From this came the six races: the psi-race, the ice yerin, the warriors, the guardians, gravitons, and dark yerin. Mystan was psi-race, with strong telekinetic abilities. It wasn't quite magic, but...

Magic. He would have loved to learn magic, but like all yerin, he had no innate skill. He could use things like the crystal, but nothing from within. Only Yerith had the magic, and since he was not powerful ( not compared to the other Fallen lords ), he put little stock in it. Thus, he taught it to no one. Because of this, the yerin turned to technology.

Another Warrior appeared in Mystan's sights, but Yerith caught it before the psychic had to say anything. As the smoke and lights of that skirmish cleared, Mystan saw a second Warrior. And a third. And more. Any warning Mystan could give would be futile and redundant. He heard Lord Yerith's mental sigh then, a psychic equivalent to you're on your own, kid.

Lord Yerith flourished his sword, then planted it in the ground by his feet, waiting defiantly for the end.

And in a crash of flame, the Lunatac race-father died.

Psychro was only half-listening to the radio when the report came on.

It was about the war. Apparently the one to end it all. The feud between the Pure and the Fallen seemed to have little to do with him. He was yerin, after all, living on a frozen moon far away from the other-planar battlefields the two sides had always used in the past. He had better things to worry about. Women, for one.

Psychro of the Myntaello Clan could have been on the front lines. But he, like his father, outfitted ships for the fleet. In other words, he was an over-glorified mechanic. With this war, Lord Yerith decided that the yerin would fight with technology instead of magic. Thus, Psychro was stuck at home checking over the fleet. When he called, Lord Yerith would use his magic to send the fleet to the battleground.

As it was, it didn't seem that was going to happen. "Lord Yerith," said the newscaster, "has been cut down on the field of battle. As such, any and all soldiers on the battlefield will be unable to return home..."

It also meant that these ships could never be used. He wasn't sure how far it was from the Moons to the battlefield, but the yerin had yet to break the speed of light. No matter how close the field was, they'd never get there in time.

Almost a week later, the ice/psi hybrid was startled by a knock on the door. He got up, opened the door, and was surprised to find Yerith's right-hand. Psychro bowed slightly, enough to acknowledge the psychic's station without any actual subservience. "Mystan of the Benekasbeel Clan. You grace us with your presence. I would ask how we might serve the greater will of Lord Yerith, but..."

"You speak like the hypnotist your father was," said Mystan, brushing the snow from his clothes. While it was usually too cold to legitimately snow on the Second Moon, high winds created the illusion of precipitation. "I hate this cold world," he grumbled, "Give me the deserts of the Fourth Moon any day."

Psychro simply waited for the smaller man to quit grumbling. It wouldn't do to yell at Yerith's second - especially since he was likely the new lord - to hurry up.

After a few more complaints about the weather, Mystan continued. "I come not for you but your sister."

At Psychro's summons, Psikaris hurried from her workshop at the back of the home she and her brother currently shared. Psychro had his own place, but he moved in with her during the war to be closer to his work. Behind her was her usual assistant, a man called Knave. Wiping her hands on a rag, she stopped short when she saw the visitor was Mystan himself. "Oh!" she cried, blushing when she realized the general mess she was in.

Mystan noticed, but took the opposite stance to what she expected. "Psikaris of the Myntaello Clan. It is good to see that even in these times your work takes precedence over all else."

Despite what the uninitiated might think, Psikaris and Mystan had never set eyes on one another before. They had, however, both heard of each other. Mystan, of course, though his station, and Psikaris through her fame as an engineer. Psychro was a fair mechanic, but it was his twin who held the reputation. Psikaris was a brilliant designer, having not only redesigned most of the fleet, but had come up with more efficient creations of her own. It was this skill that Mystan sought.

"As you know," said Mystan, "the war was declared over scant hours ago. The Fallen lost, though we lost something more. Lord Yerith died several days ago. He had no heir. In theory, as his second, I should be the new Lord of the Moons. However, that is not to be. The yerin will not accept me; indeed, they seek to overthrow me should I try to assert my power. Without a leader, our people are in confusion, and I cannot stop the chaos."

"What will become of the Moons?" asked Psikaris.

Mystan shrugged, the gesture conveying the hopelessness of the situation. "Perhaps one will step forward who can lead. But I doubt it. There will be anarchy as others try to seize power, and civil wars where some succeed in part. In any case, I will be killed. I need to escape. Anywhere outside this solar system." Locking his gaze with the woman's he said, "I came here because I know of your expertise."

"Right. And what do we get out of this, leaving us on a world in turmoil?" demanded Psychro.

"Come with me then, if you wish my escape."

Psikaris said, "I have been working on a faster-than-light engine, but I've no way to test it. It might work, it might not, it might explode."

"I put my faith in your skill."

Psychro snorted. He wasn't the only one who spoke like a hypnotist. Before Psikaris could answer ( she only turned jobs down under the most dire of circumstances ), he took her arm, steering her towards her workshop. "We need to discuss this first," he said, nodding slightly. "I'm certain you understand. You too, Knave."

After about a half-hour's discussion, Psychro, Psikaris, and Knave re-emerged from the back room. "We agree to your plan, insane as it is," said Psychro. "And we come with you."

Though Psychro had at first opposed helping Mystan, Psikaris and Knave had eventually swayed him to their side. Psikaris wanted the chance to test her ship and flee what was soon likely to be a warzone. Knave had other reasons. This is why Psychro said, "And our destination is Third Earth."

"The battlefield of the war!?" demanded Mystan. "Are you mad?"

"The war is over," Knave pointed out.

Mystan hissed. "Hold your tongue around your betters, halfbreed."

Only because she knew him so well was Psikaris able to hold Knave back from attacking the psychic. While interbreeding between yerin tribes was allowable ( though not encouraged ), Knave of the Iespyk Clan was half ice Lunatac, half Thunderan. His father had captured a woman of the cheetah tribe, and had a son by her. Knave was only tolerated because his sister protected him. Anyone who knew his name instantly understood what his father thought of him.

Mystan did not escape punishment. A large blue hand caught him around his throat, lifting him to eye-level with Psychro. "Which halfbreed?" While Psychro knew exactly what Mystan was getting at, he was merely proving a point: Psikaris and I are psi/ice crosses, Knave is a friend of ours, and you no longer have any authority.

While Knave appreciated being stood up for, he still didn't like Psychro. The tall Lunatac had bothered Knave's sister every time he saw her. But the Myntaello were the only ones who would hire the half-cheetah, and he was good friends with Psikaris, so he tolerated Psychro for the family's sake.

"Our destination is Third Earth," Psychro repeated. Only when Mystan assented did he release him.

"Might I ask why?" said Mystan, rearranging his scarf.

"My sister was a warrior, and is now trapped on that planet," said Knave. "A full-blood ice Lunatac, if it helps you."

Mystan bristled slightly at Knave's use of the term 'Lunatac' instead of the proper 'yerin', but did not comment on it. "If she still lives," Mystan pointed out. "Very well; we will do it your way. We will go to Third Earth."