Disclamier: Yeah figured I'd have to do one for the new book. What's Vince is Vince's what's mine and is mine and I think we both know which is which.

A/N: Well folks I finally got the first part of book 2 done. I'll admit it's short, and sorry for that, but as with the chapters from Book 1, I stopped when it felt right and adding more would be like shoe horning an elephant into a phone both. I will make all effort to have the next chapter up within the week so ya don't have to wait too long to get going again following the wacky adventures of Mark, Kane and the Hardy Boyz. LOL

Ok maybe they aren't all that wacky. ;)

Anyway, you've waited long enough, on to Book II!


What is the measure of a man that has no measure?

Where is his strength when power is his being?

What is the bane to a weakness that is not there?

What blocks his path when all roads are his to travel?

Where is the unsolvable riddle for a mind that fathoms the universe?

The Soul

The Mind

The Body

The Spirit

The Will

This is the Yau Ma Gar, The Being of Beings.

Should he rise, the End of not just Days will come, and the True Darkness will Reign.

Words in a book on a stand in a library few know of, and none may enter save at the owner's permit. An owner who now reclines in a chair, a stand baring candles his only illumination, his eyes on a far different tome then the one those cryptic, yet foretelling words now reside.

With occasion this man's eyes, whose frame hints, still, of a much portlier time, would drift secretively to a darkened corner of the massive book lined room. When he did a small frown would crease his lips before returning to the pursed position they had become accustomed to since the man had begun his studies. Many thoughts warred within the mind of this, many times, despised man. Thoughts he made sure to veil against intrusion. These thoughts were his and his alone, and would spell disaster should they be known to any, especially that which skulked in the shadows of his library. He had plans, and his plans did not necessarily mirror those of another. He was a master manipulator and he required all his skill in that area if he would see all his schemes and plans come to a satisfactory conclusion. But there were forces that, he knew, would see all come falling down about him, and his utter destruction would follow such a failure. In fact, his survival at this point was very slim; if he were to face the truth his set patch was leading to. Still he saw no other path for him. This was the only way to see his true dreams and desires come to fruition; dreams and desires he had held close to his heart for more then 30 years. Yes, his life was a small price to risk, to see all turn out as he wished.

Within the Shadows his ally waits, it seems that he has been waiting for all eternity. His existence is one you or I would not wish on our most hated enemy. His existence is an abomination, a curse, and a plague on the living world. Yet if the offer were made to this being, he would happily share his pain with the whole of creation. He would share it and revel in the pain and suffering that it would bring to others. If there ever was a heart, or a soul, in this creature it had long sense dried up and blown away to wherever such existential things go. If he once knew life, there are none now that can relay that fact. Or give witness to who he was before he became this dark and foul creature. That is if, he ever was anything but what he is now; a creature clinging to the dark places. A creature who gains joy from pain and suffering. A creature so evil, so powerful, that even Lucifer, should he exist, would bar the gates of Hell against.

This shadow of life knows of the words in the book. It has committed them to his memory for more centuries then can be counted. Those words and many others that give heed to a danger and a power are like a soothing lullaby in his mind. They give hope to one who knows not it's meaning nor cares for its caress. But this hope is a dark hope. A hope that will bring him a new existence and spell the end for others.

But he is no fool, and he knows his 'ally' is not one to turn your back on. Though merely human the once rotund man is as clever and evil as he. To think he is loyal to the shadow's desires is to foolishly set his endeavors at peril. It is fear that keeps this vile representation of the human race doing the bidding of the evil that has taken up residence in his library. Fear and a desire for power that would rival the shadow's own were the man to be more then he is. Yet even this powerful fount of evil can feel a certain unease when its thoughts turn to his one time lackey. Much time had passed since the man had called him Master and would do his bidding without hesitation, such time had placed a level of confidence in his heart, that and a belief in his own powers. It took a small bit to reign the mortal man in once more. The fool's initial resistance to set his plan in motions once more had forced him to remind him who and what he dealt with. Still he had decided to play the farce of an alliance. It amused him to think of the utter despair he will suffer when he the fool finds himself, once more, groveling at his feet, for as long as he allows him to live.

In Catherine St. Mary, in the room of one Jeff Hardy, a confrontation has just ended, and none are aware it even took place. Nothing is out of place; the machines still beep their steady rhythm testament that the young man in the bed still breaths. No furniture is out of place; the water pitcher and its companion cup sit peacefully in place on the side table, waiting the time when the room's occupant will have need of their service. The chairs sit along the walls, mute witness to the struggle for life played out in the bed before them, and the one that played out in the center of the room but minutes ago. The only thing that is left to bespeak of the silent battle that played out within the rooms confines is the faint linger of smoke and the lone man that stands gazing sadly down on the form of Jeff Hardy.

A few more minutes pass before the large man moves hesitantly beside the bed. Shakily a hand reaches out to gently caress the top of the bedridden young wrestler's head. A pair of miss-matched eyes gazed worriedly down on the small form in the bed shaking his head sadly. He says nothing as he moves his hand down to the young man's hand and grips it lightly, a gesture of assurance, but is it assurance to the boy or himself? Unbidden yet unsuppressed tears slowly edge down the rounded cheeks of this strong hard man, eventually dropping carelessly on to the very hand he grasps within his own. He blames himself inwardly once more for the condition of this young man and the men in the adjoining rooms. It's what he is that has placed all around him in peril. It's his family's curse to bring pain and misery on anyone and everyone that dares get close. He sees his failed marriage as well as his brother's as signs they are a bane to all humanity. The recent deaths of his brother's wife and children but the newest chapter in the vile plague that is their existence.

Slowly he collapses to his knees, still holding on to the boy's hand, now truly a life line for this man, for he knows, if this young man is taken from him, more then just endless guilt will consume him. He knows not why this certainty has taken him of a sudden, but he knows that it is not false. This young man, Jeff, is to play a very important role in what is to come. And others will come into play; friends and enemies alike will be needed in the coming days. There is more at stake then he could fathom, yet, at this time, he is more sure of his place in the grand weave that is being strung out before him. Never before was his vision so clear, his mind to free of all clutter. He could see the beginning, the middle and the end of what was set in motion eons ago. He can see his brother's part, he can see his own, and he can see the part the owner of the hand he now holds will play. Many other faces pass before his minds eye, most he knows, some he knows and hates, others he has yet to meet, and a few he never will, but all will have their part. The future is laid out before him and if he were a normal man it would have long since driven him crazy.

Of the faces he see, two stand out from all the rest. Two faces he knows as well as he knows his own. Two faces he has not seen in many a year. One elicits a sadness that brings the tears back to his eyes, the other makes his heart constrict in utter terror. Then a new revelation on the heels of the faces fills his whole being with a rage that he unconsciously grasps the smaller hand in his tighter then intended. The anger and rage build and build in his mind till all he sees starts to be consumed, as the flames of his mind seem to try and engulf and incinerate the image that has grown in his mind and will not be banished.

He no longer is a thinking man, he is now rage incarnate, and he aims himself at the image in his mind again and again, his only goal, his only thought, is to destroy it and what it implies. Yet the image resists all his efforts. The fire licking about it as if alive and still the image remains and grows within his mind, pushing back the inferno, pushing back his rage, pushing all back till it is the only thing there and he is nothing. Just a man kneeling at the side of the bed of another man, dried tears staining his cheeks the knowledge he had gained, lost. Even the image was fading, soon forgotten with the rest. All that remained with the man is the feeling all is not as it should be and in his hands he held the world's salvation. He just, no longer knew what that salvation was.

The car is a 2008 Chevrolet Malibu Hybrid. Its sticker price is 25,000. It's black. It's racing down the highway, just over the legal speed limit and it's stolen. A fact the young black-haired passenger is more then a little aware of and concerned about. His companion, on the other hand, seems not to be consumed with worry over the fact he is driving at a high rate of speed in a stolen vehicle. His focus is reaching his destination as quickly as possible and since their attempts at hitchhiking proved to be a lost cause, a fact he was made aware of, before during and after each attempt by his smaller associate, he was left with no other avenue but grand theft auto. And so they are racing down the highway, in said stolen auto, one was praying on a pantheon of gods and powers that he reaches his brother in time, the other praying to only one god that they are not spotted and pulled over by Highway Patrol.

Many times the one that has looked to the sole deity for deliverance from any law enforcement entanglements has thought to urge his Mad Max wannabe companion to slow down some, at least to no more then 10 miles over the speed limit, but one side long glance closes his mouth. No cries for sanity, and safe driving practices, on his part will deter his friend till they are both in the company of their respective siblings and are assured they are hale and hearty. And, truth be told, he shares that need to see his brother is well, that spurs his large auburn haired friend in the driver's seat to risk handcuffs and iron bars to reach them.

The one thing that his kept his panic of finding himself in a cell with a large tattooed man, who was not his friend and yet hand plans to become very close to him, to a dull roar was the fact that in the 500 miles they had already traveled they had not yet come across even the hint of flashing red and blue lights. Finally it dawned on him why his friend was being so reckless in his driving, at least more then he normally was, it was due to magic of some kind. The fact they were racing at break neck speed down a major highway and were not plagued with accidents or police escort to the nearest jail was due to something his companion was doing. Something that required a lot of concentration, as he remembers the many stinging attempts he had made to turn on the radio, the stinging a side effect of having his hand slapped away by his more powerful associate.

This sudden realization helps to calm him and allows him to turn his concerns to more pressing matters. Like what exactly happened with Jeff and Kane?