This story is a work of fiction. All characters, events, etc. are the imagination of the author. It also contains homoerotic situations and characters. If you do not like homoeroticism, or homosexuality, do not read further.

My personal thanks to Ed for taking the time to proof this story, and make it better! All work remains the property of the owner, and is printed on this web site, and its authorized mirrors/affiliates by permission of the author. Any other printing, distribution, etc. is prohibited.

Introduction
Shaper's Mist

"How boring," the thought wafted through the empty stone chambers. "Why did I ever bother? Thousands of years pass by, and still nothing changes," the thoughts continued, echoing in the vast, empty stone walls.

To the human eye, the inner chamber of the ancient temple was large, dark, and showed no sign of habitation. Hundreds of years had passed since a human being had set foot in the room. The room could have easily held every remaining inhabitant of the city surrounding the temple, but for now it was utterly empty. No doors or windows opened into it, no secret passage allowed anyone or anything to enter or leave. Despite that, the room was occupied.

On a low dais, set in the exact center of the room, a stone chair was carved out of the same rock that made up the rest of the room. In the chair sat a being in human form, unmoving in all the time since the last doors, the last of the great windows that had once let in the light of the world, had mutated into cold stone, shutting out the rest of the world.

Like the stuttering of the feeble-minded, those thoughts wafted through the room, over and over, unheard even by the one which created them. Outside the chamber, at the base of the great stone tower which served as the town's temple, a crowd had gathered. Nearly every inhabitant of the once great town had come to listen once more to the high priests, and to offer, again, a sacrifice to their Shaper, their god.

Almost 10,000 people stood there, quietly waiting as three priests climbed the steps to what had once been the temple's entrance. Fifty years ago, almost 50,000 would have been gathered. Fifty years before that, almost 200,000 would have taken turns coming to the great temple. Now, those few who remained alive waited quietly, believing that once again they were wasting their time, but refusing to give up that glimmer of hope that this time, they might reach the ears of their Shaper.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the three priests reached the top of the thousand steps. The High Priest, an aging man, well into his eighth decade, grasped the shoulders of the two priests on either side of him for support. A low cry of pain gurgled in his throat at the sight of the few people in front of him. Each year their numbers decreased, and soon, there would be no more. The two handsome priests on either side of him turned to give him more support. On his left, the beautiful blond went as pale as his hair, while his dark haired twin whispered, "Elder, are you all right?"

Taking a deep breath, the high priest whispered, "I will be fine, son. I pray that this will be the last time we must do this." Gathering himself together, the elder priest raised his hands to the sky and began.

"Ancient people of Tylera. We are gathered once again to raise our voices in prayers of hope. Today, we are fewer than we were before, but still we are here. We are alive." As he finished the last part of the intonation, he lowered his arms to his side and waited for the crowd's response.

"We are alive," the crowd chanted as one "Circled by the mists of fate, separated from all others. In the bosom of the Shaper, we live."

Taking a deep breath, the tall young blond priest stepped forward and began, "Since the time of the Wreckers, the Shapers have guarded the world. As the world changed from a place of sustenance to a place of death, the Shapers gave us succor."

Again, the crowd chanted, "We are alive, circled by the mists of fate, separated from all others. In the bosom of the Shaper, we live"

As the blond priest stepped back beside the high priest, his dark haired twin stepped forward, reared his head and cried out, "Yet, even the Shapers may be deceived. After the time of the Wreckers, the world lived in peace for a time. However, as the world we live on grew more desolate, the Shapers began to argue about how to guard us, their people. Finally, the Shapers of the East declared dominion over all people and tried to force their will on the others."

Stepping next to the dark-haired priest, the blond priest continued, "Yet these dark Shapers were not unopposed. For years beyond count, the Shapers of the West resisted their fallen brothers. As their contest waged on, the world was forever changed."

As the crowd chanted, "We are alive, circled by the mists of fate, separated from all others. In the bosom of the Shaper, we live", the elderly High Priest stepped between his two younger brethren and continued,

"Brought by the terrible wrath of the Shapers, the mists of fate rose from the ground. Where they formed, life as we know it ceased to exist. As the last of the dark Shapers were destroyed, the Shapers of Light noticed at last the effects of their great struggle. They turned their minds back to the world, and to the people. They saw that where the mists of fate rose, the people of the earth died. Green fields turned to dust, the animals screamed their pain as their lives were ended by the terrible mists."

Again, the dark-haired priest raised his voice, "Despite being chained and cast out of existence, the revenge of the Dark Shapers was complete. Their last cry, 'If they do not worship us, let there be no one left but our weak-hearted brethren!' The mists of fate were the last revenge of the Dark Shapers"

Once more, the crowd chanted, "We are alive, circled by the mists of fate, separated from all others. In the bosom of the Shaper, we live"

This time, the blond priest raised his hands to the sky and chanted, "Blessed be the Shapers of Light, Shapers of the West!" Lowering his hands, he continued in his deep bass, "As the people died by the thousands, then the millions, the Shapers of Light sought to end the mists."

"Alas!" cried the High Priest, "Alas for the world that the Dark Shapers wrought so well at their end!"

"Their curse! Their curse!" cried the dark-haired priest, "Their curse forced the Shapers of Light to adopt the ways of the Shapers of Darkness!"

"Forced by their failure to end the mist, the Shapers of Light gathered the people to them," continued the blond priest, "Once the people were gathered by a Shaper of Light, he gathered his will and shaped a place of safety for his chosen people. Within the realm shaped by the power of their will, they created a place of refuge, of safety from the mists of fate. Each Shaper, according to their strength of will, saved hundreds and thousands of people. As time went by, corridors were fashioned, joining these refuges, and a time of greatness came again."

In voices near rapture, the crowd shouted, "We are ALIVE, circled by the mists of fate, separated from all others. In the bosom of the Shaper, we LIVE"

As the two younger priests stepped back, the elder priest allowed his head to fall so that his clean shaven chin touched his chest. "As time went by, one by one, the refuges began to fall. The Shapers of Light became distracted, allowed the walls holding back the mist to fade. The people begged them, worshiped them, thanked them, tried however they could to keep the attention, the love of their Shapers, but eventually the corridors would fill with the dreaded mist, their farms, their homes, their towns would all be swallowed. As contact was lost, whole civilizations would fall into the mist, never to be heard again, the voices of their people lost forever.

"Yet, through it all, Tylera prospered. Tylera, blessed by the grace of the most powerful Shaper of them all - J'Stan - grew until it was as large as a city in the time of the Wreckers. Farms spread out as J'stan gathered lesser Shapers to him. Together they created the greatest refuge, the greatest City of Man left.

"Even through all this, the despair crept among the Shapers of Tylera. Though we, their people, gave them all we could, they still abandoned us to the mists."

"Woe to us!" cried the people, "Woe to us for losing the Shapers, Woe to us for failing them!"

Lifting his head to stare at the large wooden structure behind the crowd, the old priest continued, "NOW, 300 years after the last, greatest Shaper locked his temple, as the mists of fate began to creep ever closer into Tylera, killing our people, our land, we gather once more. For 300 years, we have sought to reach him, to remind him of our need, to please him so that he would save us! Now, we know that if we fail, we may never again have a chance to live. Pray, people, pray for the brave young sacrifice. Pray for survival, pray the Shaper will hear us at last!"

At his words, the priest could see several of his sisters leading a young man atop the wooden structure. A catapult, an old design from ages past. Several hundred feet high, with its great arm already strung back and tied down. As they reached the top, the boy stopped amid a circle of priestesses and faced the men standing atop the steps of the temple.

"Each year," the priest continued, "we gather here, to remember the past, and to call out to J'Stan. We offer him a sacrifice. A sacrifice not of death, but of life. We offer him one of our best, our brightest young men. Our histories tell us these always brought his interest, always kept him attached to his people. He would protect them from harm." Calling out to the wooden platform, he cried, "Art thou ready, Andrei?"

On the top of the platform, the eldest of the priestesses stepped forward and answered, "He is ready!" Below, the crowd all bent to one knee, as the priestesses prepared young Andrei.

As the priestesses began to remove robes, Andrei felt a shiver in the cool morning. At 18, he stood a full 6 feet in height, weighing an even 180 pounds. His short blond hair was gently ruffled in the wind as he looked down at the crowd, hoping to spot one last glance of his family. Once the last of his clothing had been removed from him, he stepped into the bowl of the catapult and prepared himself for his journey.

Seeing the young man had prepared himself in the bowl, the elder priestess stepped to the lever that would release the arm. Crying out as loud as she could, she shouted, "Hear Us! Hear Us, J'Stan! Save this boy! Save him from his death, and listen to his plea on our behalf!"

As the crowd shouted, "Hear US!", the three priests stepped to the side of what had once been the great entrance to the temple. Once they were aside, the priestess whispered "Bless you!" to Andrei and threw the lever back. With a clatter, roar, and bang, the catapult arm was thrown forward and the form of Andrei streaked towards the hard, cold stone walls.

In the crowd, Andrei's surviving family, his sister and brother, watched as he flew over. Inside their heads, they were screaming, remembering the ceremony of years past, and the crunching sound of those boys hitting the wall, being crushed against the stone. As Andrei reached the halfway point of his flight, his voice carried down to the crowd, a horrifying "NOOOOOOOOO!"

As soon as he had heard the whisper of the Priestess, Andrei tried to brace himself for what was to come. He knew that this ceremony had been going on for 200 years. He knew that he had attended 17 of them before (although he only remembered 12 of them). Years ago, at 14, he had admitted his secret, the secret which made him the choice for this offering. He remembered the bloody mess of all the boys who had not been heard, who had been splattered against the wall of the temple. The last one had been his lover, Creis, and he himself had scraped the bloody remains from the wall in ages old custom. Yet, to save his people, he had climbed into this machine.

As he was thrown by the catapult into the air, his first reaction was a pure, exhilarating thrill of freedom. He was FLYING! When he reached the halfway point, he remembered an old axiom, "What goes UP, must come DOWN!" He started to scream as he felt himself falling towards the implacable stone of the temple. His last thought was 'I'm not dying THIS way!'

As the body of the young man accelerated in descent, the three priests standing at the top of the temple steps held their breaths. Images of the deaths of over 80 young men flashed through the elderly High Priest's mind. Fervently he prayed that this one would be different. Finally, as the moment of impact came, he closed his eyes, dreading the sickening thud of impact...which never came.

***

"How boring," the thought wafted through the empty stone chambers. "Why did I ever bother? Thousands of years pass by, and still nothing changes," the thoughts continued, echoing in the vast, empty stone walls.

For the longest time, Andrei just listened to those words. 'Is this the afterlife?' he thought to himself. 'Are they even now scraping the remains of my body off the wall of the temple?'. After a time, he realized that he felt cold, very, very cold. The coldness was seeping into him from what felt like a stone wall, or floor. Slowly, as he took a deep breath, he realized it was a DUSTY stone floor as the breath he took in also caused him to sneeze, very, very loud.

To his surprise, the sound of his sneeze didn't stop the voice rambling on and on about how bored it was. After a few more minutes, Andrei decided to try to open his eyes and look around before he died of boredom listening to it drone on. Once, twice, a dozen times he blinked, but still nothing could be seen. 'Of course!' he thought to himself, 'seeing requires light! I must be in the inner sanctum! There is no light in there! Um, here.'

Scrambling to his feet, the young man cried out, "J'Stan! J'Stan! Lord of the Dawn! Hear me. I am Andrei, chosen of Tylera. We need you. We need your will to hold back the mists! J'Stan, can you hear me?"

His young voice echoed throughout the dark cavernous chamber. Echo upon echo building until the boy covered his ears. Still, the monotonous litany of the soundless voice continued on. Remembering the night before, as the three priests prayed with him before the ceremony, Andrei thought to their description of the inner sanctum.

"The inner sanctum is large, almost as large as the inner city of Tylera. It is large enough to hold all 10,000 of those who still live in our city today. If you make it through the stone where the great entrance once stood, you will have to walk straight ahead. In the middle of the great room is a dais, on that dais is a chair. In that chair, is the Shaper J'Stan. Go to him, shake him, hold him, wake him! Do what you must, but remind him of us, tell him of our need! Only he can save us from the Mists of Fate."

Summoning his courage, Andrei took a step forward. He could feel the dust from hundreds of years swirling at his feet. His eyes watered, and nose itched from it, but he continued on. The air he breathed in was stale. Stale from having sat there, unused for hundreds of years. He was amazed it still fed his body's need. Slowly, he walked on for what seemed like hours.

As time went by, he began to notice that the air seemed colder in one direction, a little to his left. Following his instincts, he veered in that direction. After what seemed like days, he felt the cold grow more and more intense. So intense that he was acutely reminded that he was totally nude. Goosebumps broke out all over his arms and legs, his nipples were so erect they were becoming pinpoints of fiery pain. His testicles crept up as if he was dipping into a cold stream.

While his shambling steps led him deeper into the inner sanctum, the pain of the cold took more and more of his attention from where he was going. The continual droning of that disembodied voice became more and more irritating. In the total blackness, he cried out as his bare feet struck a raised stone. 'The dais!' his mind crowed. Bending down, he felt for the height of the stone platform. It was nearly a foot high, and the coldness seemed to radiate from it.

Steeling himself up another notch, Andrei crawled up onto the stone dais, making his way towards the center of the coldness. With careful steps, he hit the chair he had been told would be here. The cold was so intense, he thought his blood was freezing. The voice was loudest here too. Reaching down from his 6 ft. height, he felt the chair to see if it was occupied. His hands touched what felt like a shoulder.

With a hiss of pain, he took his hand away. The bare shoulder he touched felt colder than the coldest ice! It was HIM. He was touching the Shaper! Remembering his sister and brother outside, orphaned when the mists swallowed their parents, he thought of how to wake the great legend. "J'Stan! J'Stan!" he yelled. "Wake UP! Your people need you. You swore to protect us, to save us, but you let us die! Wake UP!"

Still, all Andrei heard was that silent voice groaning about how BORED it was! Furious, he forgot everything except anger at this great being who wasn't listening. Balling his hands into fists, Andrei struck down with all the passion he had ever felt.

'MY MOTHER!' his mind shouted as his fists beat on the cold shoulder.

'MY FATHER!' as he hit the frozen head.

'MY BROTHER'S FAMILY' as he smashed his anger on the chest.

His legs gave way, and Andrei sank to his knees, his fury becoming all consuming, 'MY BELOVED CREIS' as his fists struck where a man's dick would be.

Suddenly, the voice that had been droning on incessantly was silent. Not daring to breathe, the young man felt hope budding, then..

A blinding light appeared above him, its golden brilliance wiping away the coldness of the room. Andrei fell back on his butt, arms splayed to his sides, keeping him from falling all the way over. He closed his eyes as the golden light began to be painful.

That same voice boomed inside his head, 'How did you come in here, boy? Go bother another Shaper, I have no desire to be around anyone.'

Trembling with fear, Andrei opened his eyes, and realized that the golden light was not as great as he feared. A single, golden ball hung over the chair, 20 feet in the air. Shaper magic. It had to be. On the chair sat a being. It had two arms, two legs, a head and body like a human. Only, it was OLD. Thin wisps of white hair hung from the scalp. The skin looked like dark, ancient parchment, yellow teeth shone through a jagged mouth. Milky white eyes glittered in recessed eye sockets. A once powerful body, as bare as Andrei's own, seemed as shriveled as the last of winter's apples.

Throwing himself forward on his knees, he buried his head on the dusty floor. "Great One! Save Us!" he cried out.

"Just like yesterday," the voice said, "how typically boring."

"YESTERDAY!" screamed the young man. Scrambling to his feet, Andrei shouted at the withered creature before him, "How DARE you! You, the greatest of the greatest. You who led the fight against the evil Shapers! You who founded Tylera, forced back the mists, created the greatest city on the planet! You get bored, and now THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF US ARE DEAD! In another few years, we will all be dead! My Creis gave his life trying to reach you and all you can do is bitch about being bored! No wonder it's so cold in here, you bastard. You are so worried about burning in HELL that you would rather freeze. Burn, you bastard, BURN!" With the last shouted word, Andrei envisioned the withered figure bursting into flame, and was shocked when it happened.

Tongues of yellow fire leaped up from the dried, emaciated form in front of him. With a visible start, the stick-like arms patted frantically at the frames for a moment, then dropped to its side as the figure stood up, as if oblivious to the flames now engulfing the body. A loud, rolling explosion flung Andrei from the dais as the body erupted into an inferno. Then great gouts of flame roared towards the ceiling, hundreds of feet above.

Slowly, they flickered back down until they surrounded the tall frame standing in front of the chair. With slow, measured steps, the figure moved to the edge of the dais, towering above the prone boy. The flames subsided to a subdued glow around the ancient figure. With painful slowness, Andrei began to see that the old, withered figure was gone.

Before him stood J'Stan, right out of the faded paintings hanging in the new temple outside. Standing 6'3" (plus a foot from the dais), the tall figure loomed over the sprawled boy. Powerful shoulders framed a powerful body. Well built, muscled more like a farm worker than a weight lifter, strong legs supporting the body, coming together, the legs met at the crotch, large balls rested in their sac, cushioning a large, soft dick. Tearing his eyes away from the lower regions, Andrei stared up, towards a beautiful face, topped by blond hair, short on the sides, with bangs falling over striking crystal blue eyes. Now, the ancient, withered figure had turned into a handsome stud who looked more like 17 than 170. Words formed without any movement of the rosy, full lips.

"Well, boy, I must say. Getting set on fire by a handsome young man is definitely NOT boring."

Speechless, and aroused, Andrei stared at the sight of one he had worshipped all his life. For the moment, thoughts of his family, all the people outside, praying for salvation, were lost to him and Andrei could do nothing but stare.

'So, boy, I can't even go one day without some young one coming in and bothering me. What, my walling up the windows and doors yesterday didn't give you enough of a hint? I get tired, want a rest, but you little piss ants can't wait one little day without bugging me. Did they really think that throwing another pretty face at me would get me to come out? I told B'rel and D'vad to leave me alone. They and the rest of the Shapers can take care of things for a few months while I get some rest. I'm tired.'

"Huh?" stuttered Andrei. "Yesterday? YESTERDAY? You've been in here for 300 years while Tylera dwindled. Every YEAR the mists crept in! Every year more families died! While you sat here and moaned about how boring things are!"

This time, the lips moved, and a deep, melodic voiced boomed in the sanctum "300 years? I don't think so, boy. Maybe a few weeks or months, but not years. And the mist? PLEASE! B'rel by himself doesn't have any problem holding the thing back."

Climbing to his feet, Andrei stood face to face with this being and shouted "YES! Three hundred years. Shaper B'rel disappeared 20 years before you walled yourself in this tomb! YOU abandoned Tylera! You let my parents die in the mists, you bastard."

"Don't think about trying to set fire to me again, boy. It won't do any good." chuckled J'Stan. With a fluid movement, the tall figure turned and hopped back onto the dais and sat in the chair. "Besides, you don't need me to turn back the mists. Do it yourself. If you care so much for these people, you bother saving them. 300 years or 300 seconds, it doesn't matter, I'm still bored of being the one to save the world. It was fun the first thousand times or so, but now, well, it's boring. I just wish I was brave enough to follow the others into oblivion, but suicide was always too scary for me."

Shaking with his rage, Andrei jumped up on the platform and stalked towards the chair, and its recalcitrant occupant. "I would if I could, but I'm only HUMAN, you idiot!"

Chuckling at that, J'Stan said softly, "Boy, a blind, deaf, dumb IDIOT would tell ya you are a Shaper. How else did you translate yourself through stone to get in here? How else did you hear my mind's voice when you came in? Do you think I set myself on fire?" Barking out a laugh at the expression on Andrei's face, the ancient Shaper laughed, "You did! You thought I saw a pretty boy in danger and saved you. You thought anyone here could have heard my voice. And you actually believed I set myself on fire! Now that is amusing."

With that, Andrei pushed himself away from the chair, turning his back on the reclining figure. "It doesn't matter if I did those things or not. I still don't have a clue about how to keep the mists back. I don't know how to do things like you ancients. There hasn't been a Shaper in hundreds of years, and none of those stupid writings you left behind tell anyone how to perform the magic like you old ones.

This time, booming laughter rolled in waves throughout the sanctum. "Boy, obviously you do not know how to read. I wrote the whole history of Shapers down. Ok, I thought it down to be exact. Made the words appear on the pages. Even made them appear in typed letters since my handwriting is so awful no one can read it."

With a slow smile creeping onto his face, facing away from the Shaper behind him, Andrei felt the beginnings of an idea form in his head, a plot device used by countless authors in countless stories through the ages. "Do you mean the Book of J'Stan? The collection of his...um, your thoughts set down in the years before you shut yourself in this dank cave?"

"Grrrr, I was afraid they were gonna call it that. Shut myself off, and all those millennia of telling people I am NOT a god go right out the window. Oh, well. Yes, the Book of J'Stan."

Seeing his opportunity, Andrei turned with a wicked smile on his face and laughed on his own. "You fool. The book of J'Stan was destroyed in the fires caused by the riots when the people of Tylera realized you had shut yourself off from them! Think of you as a GOD? Who can do that when you take the trouble to write everything down, then let it burn up in a second!"

Taking his turn to be speechless for a second, the Shaper thought it over. "Damn, well, everyone makes mistakes. Don't think that this one makes any difference though. I'm not gonna bother repeating all that crap just so you can try to trick me into giving a damn. Being a Shaper is easy. Let me boil it down to one sentence:

"A Shaper can have anything, do anything, he wants...all he has to do is want.

"Hellfires, my 10 year old brother could come up with nonsense like that. You say I can save Tylera, fine, I will. But first, you're gonna have to teach me how," Andrei stated, with his arms across his chest, glaring down at the now seated Shaper.

Now chuckling softly, J'Stan met the boy's stare and breathed in a soft voice, "Boy, a thousand years ago, you would have me harder than a rock and ready to beg for you to put your mouth around my dick."

"Hell, if my dick had been around 300 years ago, you would never have gotten bored, old man."

"I don't know about your dick, boy, but if people had treated me like you do, I might not have gotten bored and shut myself in. I think that was the worst. No one treated me like a regular person, or a friend anymore. No one stood up to me. I got my way, every day, every second. It's bad enough being able to shape the world to your desires, without having every damn human and Shaper in the world trying to make you happy by giving in to anything you want."

"Trust me, you'd rather have my dick," snarled Andrei. He couldn't believe this. He was actually disgusted with this being. Whining about being worshiped, having every desire catered to. "You just didn't know a good thing when you had it. The people of Tylera loved you. They wanted to show their appreciation for all you have done for them, for us. You created a place for life to thrive. Then, you turn around and abandon them because they LOVED you! You make me sick!"

"Ah, hell. What the fuck's your name? I'm getting tired of calling you boy."

"Andrei."

"Andrei's a cute name. Don't think I've ever slept with a boy named Andrei."

"Don't think you will now either"

"Cute, Andrei, cute. Ok. You are a Shaper. You even admit that. You don't accept my one sentence, excellent as it was. So, shall we enter into that little bargain you are building up to and get it over with?"

'Dammit!' thought Andrei 'guess he saw that one coming a mile off' Smiling with as much charm as he could, he said aloud, "Sure, ok. You teach me about being a Shaper, all of it, from the beginning, and I'll learn to hold back the mists. Then you can go back to your stupid chant, or rediscover the spark of life and come out with me to save your people"

"Fine," J'Stan said, with a loud clap of his hands. "Bargain made. Now sit that pretty little tush of yours down and listen to my story."