"Lionheart", he echo'd. "Lionheart", this time with a more aggressive tone as if to startle him. "Him" being the strange old man, masked by a black cloak baring the symbol of the Dark Angels Jedi on his robe. "...Who? ...What? ...Me?" The strange man replied. "I know not a Lionheart. To whom do I owe the pleasure of speaking?" The voice that had startled him remained dormant, as if 'it' was now lost within the shadows before him. A cave that laid before the old man revealed itself with the flickering of sheen and bountiful light. "LEON", the voice had returned this time baring the scent of an incredibly overbearing deep spiritual voice. "I believe you are looking for something, to fake your death is no easy task yet... I can teach you, I will teach what I can should you be able to do something for me in return." Leon remained silent, he would almost caress the back of his hand in contemplation, his thoughts in wonder. "...I am already aware of the risk. Coming to you was not easy, but I have to conceal myself. It is imperative that I do as such." Leon would then turn, facing towards the dark-end of the cavern, still admiring the beautiful crystalline lights. The voice would fade in, almost like a dosen different voices rushing in all at once." "S-S-S-S-SO..." the voice chanted. "You seek my attention? If I were to grant thine wish, you must destroy something dear to you. The memory of your fallen." Leon immediately froze, beguiled. His heart felt as if a thousand thorns had been driven through it. "...I cannot, I.." He stammered, his eyes widen and again in disarray he would fall to his knees contemplating the sacrifice. The question is why? Why would he risk losing something he cherished so much to conceal himself? To fake his death? Nobody could give an answer.
To be continued in Chapter Two...
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