Ryan smiled, with that he turned and walked off down the road that ran through the center of their town. He walked many, many miles, past the outskirt plantations, where the men and women in the fields stared at him. Some stared in fear, some with anger, some of the young women with curiosity. The Renegade was passing by, the Defiant One who sought to preach a new gospel.

Night fell and the lunar goddess, her body a home to a much worthier race, shone bright. Almost as if staring at an earthbound lover with whom she had been separated.

Ryan merely leaned against a tree, his cloak giving him warmth and venison jerky his dinner. The sounds of the night were soothing to him, even the distant roars of predatory beings, both natural and supernatural. A smile came over him, his sword and pistols by his side.

This was truly being alive. Let them come. Ryan Stoudt would be vanquished by no one or no thing this night. The arrogance of youth seemed to provide him with some dark nimbus of surity.

As he drifted off to sleep, though light and ready for danger, he saw the moon in her full glory. Another Goddess, the place Teena Rivera has returned to. The strong but troubled dark-skinned woman who had alternately hated and cared for him for reasons even she could not understand. The Moon people were so more advanced in some ways yet almost behind the Remnant in others. The two needed each other to fill in their respective weaknesses.

Before he gave into sweet dreamspace, his instincts woke him. Someone was watching him. His sword drawn, he knew within seconds who it was.

He sheathed his large and powerful soul blade.

"Janaya."

The Harvest Goddess stood before Ryan, her soft white skin glowing ghost like in the night. The moon adding its glow to her still yet quite conscious form.

"Defiant One. So this is the field where you plan to plant your seed?"

Ryan smiled.

"No, my Goddess. If I could it would be with a number of the young females in my village. Still none of them hold a candle to the beauty before me."

Janaya was expressionless. Ryan's newfound crassness was quite a contrast to his respectful and supplicant demeanor before. Unlike the Gaia Matriarchs, Janaya knew that this was a positive development. Ryan was the one hinted at by the prophecies. Of course she could not let that go to his big head. It was not time yet.

"Ryan, you are as lost and wayward as they say. What happened to you?"

"My Goddess, there is no answer I can give you that would be honest and I could never lie to you. The Beyonders have made me question many things. My moment of trust and weakness allowed a great warrior of theirs to lose his life. There is no other way for me."

"Your path, it must take its course. Not all crops grow in the same direction, some stick out or venture beyond the fences."

"My Goddess, we are humans, not crops. Even you were human once. Do you remember how we are? Our passions and our actions, they do not always point to a clear path or grow straight and true. This Remnant life of slavery to women is not for me."

Ryan felt almost like he was going too far in his words with the entity he still secretly prayed to and would always pray to.

"I can see that." Janaya smiled. "But to be a man alone, this is not daunting for you?"

"A man is always alone. Whatever he achieves is all he has, we do not have the value of a woman's womb. Still we have the key to going beyond, look at the Beyonders. It was strong-minded men who drove the colonization of the moon. Men like Matt Donahue and Brad Coulson."

"Oh, it looks like someone has taken to reading. You have found the old library haven't you." Janaya saw how this man's thirst for knowledge of the true past had been a part of his masculine drive to go beyond the confines of the Garden.

Ryan smiled. He had found quite a few books in there, the old english being difficult but not impossible to read.

"Oh my. You have discovered alot of things have you not? How things were in the past. Do you still believe in us Goddesses after all this?"

"You were alive back then, you must remember. This time now must be quite strange for you, a woman raised in the dying days of a self-killing civilization. I feel blessed by Gaia herself I was not born or living in those times. Now we live in a time of A Passing Reign, Our Passing Reign. Will we allow these beings from beyond to rule over us? This is our home, unworthy as we were to have it. I will not allow it, I will fight it with my every breath. Do you see why I am now this way, My Goddess?"

Janaya knew quite well, her devotion to Gaia a way to deal with her being between two epochs, seeing the worst and best of both times. She much preferred this era, an era where she had a place. More than a place, she was a defender and guide for the next step of humanity.

This young, rough man had coaxed a single tear from her eye, running bloody down her pale cheek.

"Ryan Stoudt, this road you walk, you have walked it before but I cannot tell you how or in what way. Not yet. I swear though I will be there for you in your darkest moments, not just me but the women, the women you balk at, from our Mother and from her Luna sister. They will be there for you and will not try to use or hurt you. You will return my wayward child, carrying a beacon for the rest of us to follow."

Ryan had no idea what Janaya was talking about but his blood did. His Being was now taken with a feeling of oneness. This painful journey in which he hid his fears and doubts under a strong armor was even more important than he had thought. This journey, this war within was not just for his victory.

Janaya drifted away into the night, as if a mist. Ryan prayed to her and lean back. Looking up at the star filled sky.

"Tomorrow begins the first step of the Journey. Gaia please help me, your wayward but earnest Sword of Vengeance!"

The next day, Ryan had found his home for the next year. Not far from a clean spring and waterfall. A large shelter of bent saplings, bark, leaves, and evergreens was his new dwelling. There was a lot to do.

He laid his books out before him, on his cloak which served as a protective surface for the century old tomes, many almost falling apart. His strong, rough hands would have to treat the leaves and pages of these holy relics quite gently.

The authors of these myths were men who had died long before even the Darkness Epoch and the Century of Fools aka The 21st Century. Burroughs, Howard and London gave him the template of how a man should be, their various characters being thrown out of all they knew yet meeting their savage world head on with steel and honor.

Lovecraft was a bit more cerebral but his stories of doomed scientists barely able to fathom the existence of Beings from the Beyond without losing their minds confirmed the limitations of the materialist/feminine/civilized outlook. Were the Cephaloi not the spitting image of the monstrosities from his projected legends?

These myths were manuals for him to follow. He would need to find more books from the library at some point. Apparently there were books much older than the ones he had chosen for his meditations. Margaret's Christian Witch teachings were in one, there were others older than even that, with spear and shield wielding men fighting the gods, goddesses, horrific beasts and each other. There was much to learn.

All Ryan had was time.

Hunting for food was the main occupation, however it still was a way to sharpen his marksmanship skills. He collected various rocks and logs for the purpose of building up his body. He practiced his pugilistic skills through shadowboxing, wrestling drills and weapons skills with his sword, spear, bow and arrows and Air guns. Running and walking for miles on end.

Occasionally running across bandits or barbarian raiders he made short work of them, considering them just more training. Hardly worthy opponents. Though his village had rejected him they would never have to deal with raiders or other human invaders with Ryan on their borders.

Reading took up all the other time. Within the centuries old, yellow paper he followed the exploits of the sly and savage yet fair Conan, the earnest Esau Cairn, the honorable John Carter, the driven Solomon Kane, Tarzan who lived forever between two conflicting worlds. There were even a few illustrated books which seemed to draw out every part of the story in boxes. His favorite of these were about a man called Killraven..a man who lived in a world like his, conquered by Aliens and fighting them, knowing more about them then they even suspected. He had allies and friends at least.

Ryan was alone and had no one. No dark-haired Martian Princess, although he did have a chance at a dark haired Lunar Princess.

Then there was the Christian Witch Princess.

Could he decide between the two of them? Why should he decide. He would have both as any real man would tell him.

Ryan Stoudt would train for a year, visualizing what he wanted and who he wanted. Allies would come, he knew Gaia would help him despite his defiance. It was all for her in the end. To avenge the Rape of Ishtar as they said. To avenge humanity both Remnant, Lunar and Earth herself. To drive these invaders off their home world!

Or die trying. Either way, it was his destiny.

What a wonderful gift to have a destiny. This is why those people in the 21st century were such fools, they thought they knew and had everything. Yet they had no sense of destiny and did not even know they were supposed to have one. How sad and pathetic. Yet he and all on Earth and Luna were descended from such people.

It was up to his generation to redeem the past, their ancestors and the Time.

He was not sure they could. No matter. To not try at all was the only true death. The only true failure.

One year and then the Road to Vengeance began.

He vowed his sword would pierce the Cephaloi High One in its evil, yellow Eye, if it was the last thing he did. People would remember Ryan Stoudt. Would he be a hero or a villain for all time?

It did not matter.

Fin