A/N: I do not own The Last Story

Stars

Ariela's Tavern had never seemed so lively. Crowds mobbed the bar, shouting and praising their victory over the Gurak. They sang and cheered and danced around the place in drunken delight, completely free from sorrow (or reason).The small band of mercenaries was now famous across Lazulis Island—they couldn't even enjoy a drink without being thronged by the masses. But they didn't mind. Their stellar debut meant advancement toward their ultimate dream: knighthood—and the respect they deserved and had sacrificed so much for.

"A toast to my fellow comrades. May we continue to find success and happiness as we progress toward Knights!" Dagran raised his glass in the air once he and his friends were somewhat left alone by their newfound fans. Each of the mercenaries banged their glasses together with a shout of triumph and took a large swig, disbanding to their usual hangouts once they drained their drinks.

"Ah, I've missed the taste of beer, alright!" Syrenne grinned, downing another cup.

"I'd certainly say," Lowell said. "It's all I ever hear about anymore. Right, Zael?"

"Oh, come off it, now!" Syrenne growled. "Don't drag his sorry arse into it!"

"Yes, please don't," said Zael. "Syrenne won't like what I have to say about that."

"Of all the—!"

"That's m'boy, Zael! Tell her like a man," Lowell said, clapping his friend on the back. Both let out hearty laughs as Syrenne rolled her eyes, gladly returning to her drink.

"Now, if you'd excuse me, my friend," Lowell said, looking over at a pretty brunette alone at the bar, "I would very much like to let that lass over there know how fine she looks this evening."

"Well, I won't keep you," Zael said, grinning as Lowell fluidly sat by and smooth-talked his next target. He noticed Syrenne glaring at Lowell as he left.

Zael made his way upstairs, attempting to be stopped by as few people as possible. He was completely exhausted from the fighting—not to mention his current romantic conundrum. As he successfully braved the last step, he noticed Yurick sitting alone at a table in the corner, tracing the rim of his cup with his fingers. The tavern's candlelight cast shadows across his face, which looked troubled—dismayed—something that concerned Zael. How could he continue in peace knowing his friend wasn't happy? They had been successful—the Gurak felled by their own hands and their dreams of knighthood now tangible—was that not enough to be—at the least—content?

"Yurick," Zael said, sliding into the chair across from his comrade. "What's got you bothered, mate?"

"It's nothing." Yurick kept his gaze fixed on his cup, though his fingers froze on the handle. "Please don't involve yourself."

"I can't enjoy my evening while my friend is troubled," Zael said. "I must be able to help you somehow." Yurick sighed, recognizing the futility of his protests.

"Fine. If you really must know," he muttered, more to himself than to Zael. His hand began to trace the rim of the cup again. "Lately I've had these… feelings. They are completely foreign to me—it's almost surreal that I speak of them now. I don't know how to handle them or what to do. It's like they're eating me alive, Zael."

Zael leaned forward. "What sort of feelings?"

"I think you'd call them… romantic?" Yurick said. "Even the sound of the word sends a rupture through me." He buried his head in his hands, trembling.

"For whom do you have these feelings, if I may ask?"

"Well," Yurick mumbled, "that's the issue of it all, I'd say."

"Oh my, what are you boys talking about so secretly?"

"None of your business," Yurick said quickly. "Please, Mirania, leave us in peace."

Mirania frowned. "I'm not one to immerse myself in the business of others, but Yurick, you have been looking quite depressed lately. Here," she said, slipping into the chair next to him, "I'll take Zael's place. He can get rest without having to worry about your well-being."

Awareness suddenly dawned on Zael and he smiled.

"I won't argue," he said.

"But I will!" Yurick protested.

"Mirania brings up a valid point. She is more capable of giving advice than I am in my… weary state," he said. "Give it a go, mate. I'm sure you'll like how tonight will end."

Yurick looked helplessly at his friend, who left them for his room, grinning to himself.

"Now," Mirania said, scooting her chair closer to Yurick's. "What's got you down? I can get you more beer if it'll make it easier for you to tell me."

"That," Yurick said, "would be the wisest course of action."

"Very well," she said, "but don't you move."

She got up, and Yurick sighed again. What was Zael's problem? Why did he leave him here with her of all people? Perfect, he thought. I might as well dig my own grave. Maybe I can blame whatever I might say tonight on the liquor.

Mirania returned, placing a glass in front of him.

"What, you're not drinking anything?" He asked.

"I won't be much help to you if I'm drunk."

"Right."

Yurick tipped his head back and downed the entire glass within moments. A light buzz filled his head, and while he was still perfectly aware of his thoughts and actions and surroundings, he felt much more relaxed. Maybe he could spill his guts after all.

"I've been doing much thinking as of late, Mirania," he began after a minute.

"Oh, have you? It's nice, thinking is. What have you discovered?"

"I was getting to that," he said, taking a deep breath and reluctantly continuing. "In the midst of coming to terms with my past, I have overlooked many things of the present, one of them being my own feelings toward the people around me."

Stop! His rational voice thought, but reason was lost to the light buzz that had grown stronger in his mind.

"One in particular, I have developed unique feelings for that I have only realized recently."

Shut up!

"These feelings are so strange to me. I feel as if one moment I could dance to the stars, and the next my lungs are crushed by simply being in her presence. I think I… love her. I always have."

Enough!

"I see," Mirania said. She sat quietly for a moment. "Is she among our band of mercenaries?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"Is it Syrenne?"

He hesitated. Even in his tipsy state he realized the gravity of his next word. Yet his body prevailed over his mind.

"No."

He couldn't look up. He couldn't meet her eyes. He knew how disgusted she must be in him. He could only imagine her utter revulsion and horror at his confession. Maybe he could blame it on the drink, but if not, at least there was a chance that the feelings eating away at his very soul would finally dissipate.

"My, that's quite a surprise." She said. Her voice was soft, the contrary of his anticipation. He gathered the courage to look up.

"I know," he said. "To you, maybe. But I'm not surprised by my feelings one bit. You are incredible. You are powerful, beautiful, and caring. There is no one I'd rather have fighting by my side—or by my side at all. Hate me for it, if you will, but I don't regret what I've said."

He stood up before she could say anything more, and headed back for his room. In all of his years, he had never been so frightened—not even when fighting ogres, mauling Gurak, or blasting Reptids. He wiped his sweaty hands on his cloak, amazed at the effect Mirania had on him. He knew she could ask anything of him, and he'd give it. Willingly, and completely.

"Wait!"

Yurick turned, uncertain of what to expect. Mirania caught up with him, tears dripping down her neck. Immediately he reached down to wipe them away. She grasped his hand and held it to her cheek, sobbing.

"Mirania, what's wrong?" He asked softly. Still clasping his hand, she burrowed her head in his chest. He reached his other hand around her, holding her close.

"No one has ever told me they loved me before."

It was as if someone had stabbed Yurick through the stomach. "How is that possible?" He whispered.

Her voice was muffled in his shirt. "My parents passed when I was young. I was raised by the Guardian of a forest far south of here. He cared for me, I'm sure, but never made it obvious—treated me like any other plant or animal. I have friends who care for me now, but I sometimes question whether they love me. I know I'm strange in their eyes, but that's who I am."

"You are not strange," Yurick murmured. "You are perfect."

They stood like that for several moments, Yurick hesitant about his next question, not wishing to ruin the peace that had finally settled.

"Mirania," he said, "What are your thoughts—about this… this whole thing?"

She pulled away slightly to look up at him. "I've never thought of you in any sort of romantic way—well, I've never thought of anyone romantically. But now that you say it, it doesn't sound strange at all."

"Not the answer I was hoping for," he said, "but that's close enough."

"Oi! Lowell, get an eyeful of this!"

Syrenne wobbled towards them, a drink in both hands. She took a large swig of one and used the other to point at the entwined mages.

"Well well," Lowell said, snatching a drink from Syrenne's outstretched hand. Syrenne growled and lunged at him. Lowell didn't seem to notice. "I would have never seen this coming. Nice job, Yurick."

"Thanks," Yurick said flatly.

"Lowell, would you give my drink back! This' not nice," Syrenne slurred. Lowell held it above his head.

"I think that's enough for you," he said. "You didn't even say please!"

Syrenne reached for her drink, but tripped and fell into Lowell, both toppling backwards with the might of a falling tree.

"You damn woman! You're going to kill me!"

"If you would've just gimme back my drink, this wouldn't a' happened!"

They continued bickering as Yurick turned to Mirania. "Would you care to go for a walk?"

"That would be lovely."

They left the tavern just as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, its rays exploding in violent pinks, oranges, and yellows. Mirania paused to gaze up at it.

"It's so beautiful," she said. "There used to be sunsets like this everyday in the forest. But… it's gone now."

Yurick said nothing, but recognized the sadness in her voice. It wasn't until they had been walking for a while that he broke his silence.

"You miss it, don't you?"

"It was my home. I've known little outside of it," she said. "But yes, I miss it very much."

"Is this why you decided to become a mercenary?"

"Yes," she replied. "I needed to learn the reason for the land's decay, and I figured as a mercenary, you do much traveling. So I began my own quest. I didn't know, however, that I would end up with a group of people for whom I care deeply—or who would share my same concern for the world. It has been a liberating experience thus far."

"I see," Yurick said. "Have you discovered anything?"

"Actually, yes. I think it is connected with that strange power of Zael's—the Outsider, as he calls it. I've been deliberating with General Asthar, who has the same belief. We've poured over many ancient books, and have found that there is some connection to this Outsider, thought we know not what."

"It's interesting," he said, "that of all bands of mercenaries to end up with, you'd found us."

"I wouldn't call it interesting," she said, "I would call it fate."

"Fate," Yurick murmured. "Yes, fate."

"Oh, where exactly are we going?"

"Have you been up to Stargazer's Tower?"

"No, actually."

"Then that's where we'll go."

They continued down Lazulis Road, which was lonely and empty at that time of night. The lights of the city flickered behind them, and the final rays of sun sank below the mountains. Darkness swiftly swept the land, and Mirania held on to Yurick's hand to keep balance on the dank cobble stoned path.

"My, it's gotten dark quickly," she said. "And cold."

"Here," Yurick said. He let go of her hand and opened his. Sparks danced about his hand, weaving in and out of his fingers, before finally collecting in his palm. A small flame burned brightly in his hand, heating the area around it and lighting their path for many feet ahead. "The perks of being a fire mage."

"I would certainly agree. I've never seen you do that before," she said.

"Yeah, it's something I just keep to myself. The perks of being alone too, I guess."

"But why be alone? You could brighten up the lives of so many—literally and metaphorically."

"It's just easier," he said. "Attachment brings only complication and disappointment."

"Sure, but you must also be lonely. It is a frail existence, matched only in frailty by death. You aren't really living if you're living alone."

Yurick made no attempt at a reply; the flame in his hand flickered, dimming. The darkness crept closer.

"I've not offended you, have I?"

"No," he said, "but you've reminded me of something."

"Of what?"

"That there are people who care about me—care whether I live or die, or that I can create a small flame in the palm of my hand. So I should just shut up and quit sulking."

"I wouldn't put it so harshly, but yes," Mirania said softly. "We are your friends, not just some people you are paid to fight with in battle. Didn't you discover this when we found your father's ship?"

"Apparently not."

Silence continued as their companion, descending like a dove. Yurick wished to avoid the subject, and Mirania was trying to figure out how to change it. Though in the somewhat awkward silence Yurick only found more noise—the whistling of crickets, the ruffling of the leaves, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the valley—true quiet was impossible. He was tired of the noise.

"We're nearly there."

"I'm excited."

The subject change was welcome, though the dreaded silence followed in their wake like footprints. Stargazer's Tower loomed ahead, standing majestic like the wrath of a God. An infinite staircase splayed itself at their feet, and they began the arduous trudge up its endless steps.

"There are more of these blasted things than I remember," Yurick muttered, clambering along with Mirania at his heels. "It. Doesn't. End."

"Well, it surely discourages trespassers," Mirania replied. Yurick smiled.

"Except for us."

"Of course."

At last the final steps came into view. He grabbed her hand and led her along, through the large Ramada and to the spires that seemed to pierce both cloud and sky. Yurick craned his neck to get a good look, but could not see the tips of them. They seemed to extend beyond everything that was mortal—comprehensible, and into an infinite realm, ever growing and ever towering.

"This," said Yurick, "is what I wanted to show you."

Mirania was speechless. There were no words that could aptly convey her shock and awe at the spirals and stars, and how grateful and pleased she was towards Yurick. She merely stood, hands entwined with her Fate.

"I take it you're impressed, then." He said.

"That's one way to put it."

The stars shone brilliantly, just as infinite and ageless, artless in they're display. Mirania stood closer to him, now, their hands laced together. It was as if a weight had been lifted from Yurick, and the feelings that once threatened to boil him alive now dispersed. He was at peace with Mirania at his side. He silently thanked Zael, wherever he was, for knowing. For seeking. For caring. Yurick had never felt such conviction in his friends and fate, as he did now. He was doubtless that his father looked on him, too, with the same contentment from whichever realm he'd departed to. But Yurick shook those thoughts away—they were irrelevant right now. He grabbed Mirania's hand again, wondering how life could fold itself together so neatly.

And so they continued to stare at the sky, hand in hand, daring the stars to move.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!