The rain drummed on the steel of his helmet, monotonous and interminable. Keith walked through the empty streets of the island he had once called home… but there was nothing left for him now. The hatred… it was overpowering… he couldn't do a damn thing right! Every step was a struggle as he made his way towards the central bridge – every inch, every fiber of his body… they were all telling him to finish what he'd started back at the tavern. Genetic predisposition to follow orders didn't mean a thing when you were stupid enough to befriend the spy you were supposed to kill… and how could he have gone through with it? How could he have just turned and killed Natani after he – he amended himself – after she had opened her world up to him? She'd told him everything about her, in utter trust, and he'd returned the favor with a knife to her throat… and when his will broke down, she hadn't even had the decency to let him kill himself. He knew, even now, that she and Flora were racing towards the second bridge, while Eric and Kat themselves made for the third. The plan was simple: Keith was without home, honor, and had probably just turned all his friends against him by letting Trace fall into the Templar's hands. Gods, he wasn't even sure what he was thinking with that one… Before he lost his memory and reverted to something one could recognize as human, Trace had been responsible for the deaths of… Keith shuddered, convinced it was the freezing rain and not the fear. His was a warrior race. He'd seen a lot. But even the stories about Trace had given him nightmares… and he'd turned the deadliest man in the world over to the Templars, who wanted nothing more than to pry his mind open and pull out the murderer inside.

Yeah, he'd messed up pretty bad.

But this would fix it. One way or another, Keith wouldn't ever live in his homeland again, because when tonight's work was done, he'd either be an exile, or dead. He took the first step, and then the other, and another, up to the bridge over the river, 600 feet below. The sight of a figure walking across the bridge towards him caught Keith off guard, more so because it was past curfew. There was only one reason someone would be coming from the castle… Keith squinted past the mist and rain, and his heart fell as the last person he wanted to see stepped into view. A double slash over his left eye, milky-white and blind, body-fitting black armor, and a brown imperial cloak. "I'm sorry, brother…" Alaric said. "This is the end." And for the longest time, neither said anything.

"Alaric," Keith finally broke in, and then faltered. "N… Nick… you have to listen to me." Alaric looked up and smiled. Did he remember all those years together in the woods? The training, the sparring, the wounds they gave one another in the name of strengthening the bond between them? He did – Keith knew he wouldn't have forgotten. Alaric nodded. "Keith…" whatever he was about to say, he broke off and shook his head. "Keith, I know why you're here. The Templar's mana tower?" Keith nodded. "Alaric, it's… I don't know how to say it, but Eric told me it was poisoning you. You know Eric? …Right?" Lightning flashed in the distance; a moment later, the muted boom underlined Alaric's silence. He was regarding Keith with an unusual stare, and frankly, Keith had no idea what it meant. He WAS an outcast, so sneak attacks were allowed… expected, even. Nick wouldn't do that, though, so Keith just continued, voice growing more sure as he spoke.

"In my exile, I met the others – Trace, Flora, Natani, Eric, and yeah, even Kat. Eric's a slave trader – he's seen a lot, and he saw one of us. A Basitin like us, Alaric, and she was brain-dead, because of that." Keith jabbed a clawed finger at the tower, glowing bright blue, just behind the wall of the castle. "Magic, Alaric. Basitin minds can't handle it, and having that tower built in our city is going to slowly rot us out until there's nothing left but husks of our race. Imagine that: women, children, every Basitin on the island reduced to a mute, stupid animal! Tell me you don't see it in the other generals! Tell me that this isn't the kind of thing that the Templars would do! You know that our law system is flawed, Alaric…" Keith faltered. He shouldn't have said that – Alaric was tensing up, but there was no stopping now. "…by the time anyone decides to do anything, it's going to be too late." For a long time, Alaric was silent. "…I see…" he eventually said, almost too quiet to hear over the drum of the rain. "I had my suspicions… it's not like the Templars to offer something for nothing. The scale of this is a little hard to believe, but…" he looked up, his face set in what Keith remembered from their childhood days as the "I've-made-a-decision-and-I'm-not-changing-it" face. "I believe you."

For a moment, Keith couldn't believe it. Had Alaric risen above the Basitin honor system? Suddenly, the rain didn't feel so wet. "You're gonna help me? I mean… you see why we have to stop them!" Redemption? Could it be so close at hand? "You have to let me through-" he tried to say, but suddenly, Alaric's expression took on a vehemence Keith had never seen before. "NO!" He hissed, eyes narrowed, ears back. Not a good sign. "What?" Keith managed, backing a step away from the unconcealed contempt on his brother's face. "I told you everything! The Templar are brainwashing us what that thing behind you! Nick – you should be helping me…" The vehemence flared to outright anger, and Alaric's eyes shone. "You have NO RIGHT to call me that, Keith! You're an outcast – you broke our laws and paid the price, and here when I thought you could redeem yourself… you completed the impossible task. You brought us the Grand Templar. And now you dare to assault me, the Master General of the entire Basitin nation?!" Keith backed another step away. This was not the Alaric he'd known as a child. Certainly, he'd always had a much firmer faith than even Keith in the laws of the Basitin… but this? This wasn't natural. This was… no. Oh, no… The tower. Alaric had been overseeing its construction… standing so close to it, even daring to practice fire magic… it was already poisoning his mind. And though Keith wanted desperately to believe his brother would stand aside, would somehow let him pass even after this, when he reached for the sword at his side, despair fell into his mind like black oil in water. "It's for the courts to decide what should be done to the humans, Keith… and as for me, I must do as the king has commanded. My orders are to stop you and your friends, here and now." He leveled his three-foot sward with Keith, the blade resting lightly on his chest, and something flickered in his eyes – pain. Pain like only Keith could know. And when Alaric spoke again, his voice was not firm and sure, but held the slightest waver. "I do what's commanded of me… even if I feel it's wrong. This is what it is to be a Basitin." Alaric took three steps back and assumed the classic Basitin standard offensive pose… and Keith knew that before the night was out, honor dictated that one must die. He drew his own sword, feeling the joints in his paws slide over the familiar grooves in the leather, felt the weave nestle into his palm. "I won't back down, Alaric. What I'm about to do… what I have to do… I have to because it's right. The destruction of that tower is what's necessary to save our people, and I'll do whatever I must… even if it means going through the one I hope to save the most." Raw pain flashed across Alaric's eyes, and he closed them, silent for a moment. "…very well, Keith." He had no warning before Alaric launched himself into a backhanded leap with the sword, blade singing towards his face.

Any slower, and his head would've been off in an instant. Keith brought his sword up, and the reverberating clash sounded throughout the valley, echoing back from the mountains as it did. The sheer force of the blow actually pushed him back a few steps, and he grit his teeth and blinked hard to clear the rain from his eyes. Alaric was merciless – feints, strikes, he rained blows from every side, and it was all Keith could do to block every attack. He swore under his breath – Alaric was stronger than he was! He must've been practicing every day… Alaric suddenly broke through his defenses, and Keith barely had time to strike the flat of his blade out of the way before it ran through his lungs. In response, he open-palm smashed Alaric in the head, but he didn't even seem to notice. He just kept slicing, again and again, until finally, he caught Keith off guard: an overhead strike, with the blade turned at just the last second. The steel raked through Keith's teal leather armor, and he cried out in spite of himself – it was BAD. The sword had hit at least two ribs and bounced off, the pain took his breath away, and Keith lost track of Alaric, glancing down at his chest to make sure no muscles were showing. Big mistake – he looked back up, and the general was gone. Years of friendship and sparring were the only thing that saved his life: he dropped to his knees and raised his sword above his head, blocking the crushing overhead leap that would've literally sliced him in half. The force stretched the wound on his chest – Keith felt the rainwater sliding in, and couldn't help a hiss of fear – Alaric was going to win.

Keith tried to pull an offensive counterattack, sticking to attacking Alaric on his blind side, but in his rush to push his attack, he forgot his defensive pose, and a second, shallower wound crossed the first on his chest, marking a bleeding X. Alaric didn't stop – he spun around and punched Keith in the head, slamming his helmet off with such force that a cut opened up over his eye, dripping blood in. He swore at the burning and shut the eye instinctively, diving out of the way right as Alaric made for the vulnerability. Keith rolled hard and stood back up, the castle now behind him, his Alaric standing unscathed, sword twirling back to the offensive pose. He took a step, another, and suddenly he was running at Keith, swinging his sword down with all the strength he could muster. Keith's eyes went wide with fear – helmetless, that blow would kill him! He dodged to the side as quick as he could, and gasped as a terrific CRUNCH threw him to the ground. He looked over and couldn't understand what he saw: The sword was stuck in his shoulder…? No. His armor had blocked the attack! Keith shouted and twisted, yanking the sword out of his enemy's grasp, and pulled it out. Two swords for him, none for Alaric. THough weaponless, he didn't back down – he just smiled, and cracked his knuckles. Keith hissed and dashed over, launching himself into a whirlwind of blades.

Alaric moved like a leaf in the wind – nothing, not a damn THING Keith did hurt him! The older Basitin dodged every stroke Keith made, anticipating his moves and slicing at Keith whenever he got the chance – no sword did not by any means indicate no weapons, and despite the fact that Keith should have been able to take down at least 3 enemies at once with a pair of swords like this, he felt Alaric's claws rake him again and again, and eventually broke away, panting and in a rage. Gods DAMN his helplessness! How was he supposed to get past?! Alaric was being destroyed by the very honor system he served – ALL the Basitin generals were - and the only one that was suffering seemed to be Keith! How could he save him?! How could he… thunder boomed overhead, slicing through his thoughts, and he felt the bridge shift beneath him. He looked down and panicked as a crack spiderwebbed across the surface of the stone – the bridge wasn't meant to take the kind of blows Alaric was delivering. Suddenly, it was clear – Keith could save him. "Alaric!" He shouted. "Gods damn it, let me pass!" His adversary chuckled. "Remember when we used to play tag, Keith? You never could catch me, and even when I let you, you'd always have such a hard time landing the first touch…" Keith shouted and sprinted forwards, trying to jump at Alaric and knock him over. Instead, he simply sidestepped and landed a twirling punch in Keith's stomach. When he hit the ground, he had to fight back the urge to vomit, and the footsteps behind him told him that a different ruse might be in order. He waited until Alaric drew near before leaping up, ignoring the thousand stinging wounds on his body, and tried a desperate backhand swipe. Alaric blocked the swing at the wrist with one paw and smashed down on Keith's forearm with the other, catching his sword as Keith dropped it involuntarily. Keith struggled to stand, but Alaric didn't give him the chance – he spun his sword twice and sliced two thirds of the way through Keith's over-sensitive Basitin ear, dropping him to his knees with a scream. The pain was like NOTHING ELSE, and there wasn't anything else that he could even think of, just the agony, his friend had done this… there was only one thing left that he could do. He fought back the searing, pulsing inferno in his head and looked up, blinking the eye he could still see out of. Alaric was standing a good 15 feet away from him, sword sheathed. "Keith, it's over. Give up… I don't want to kill you." "Then… don't…!" Keith gasped through the burning in his chest. "You aren't bound by this system… you have free will… you have a choice…!" "Keith, I've made my decision, just as you have yours – I chose the path we as Basitins must walk, the path of righteousness and honor. I am not to blame that you chose the path of rebellion, and you will not lead me down as you have. There is no turning back now, brother." Keith's head dropped, and tears leaked out of his eyes, mingling with the blood that blinded him. Bound by blood… blinded by it. At least Keith could wipe it away… there was another kind of blood in Alaric's eye, and Keith knew that the wound that brought it took a lifetime to heal. But at least he wouldn't have to die – Keith had one more trick, one last ace up his sleeve. "I… I guess you're right, Alaric… we've… made our decisions…" he gasped at the pain in his arm when he picked up the sword – the adrenaline was wearing off, but his heart was still racing. "…and now…" he lifted the sword, point centered exactly over a fracture in the stone. Alaric's eyes narrowed, and then widened as he realized what Keith was doing. "…WE'VE GOT TO LIVE WITH THEM!" He plunged his beloved sword into the stone, and the rock split in two: the bridge was crumbling.

"No! NO!" roared Alaric. Keith stood, with effort, as he watched his brother back up quickly, dancing off of the sections of the bridge that collapsed an instant later. Alaric shot him a look of resolute determination – the same face as before. Keith's eyes widened in terror. "Alaric, NO!" he shouted, and Alaric leapt across the gap. "I won't let you get away!" he shouted, hovering in space – suspended in a raining, ruined world. For a moment, time seemed to slow, and then, as if in a dream… he landed in front of Keith and straightened to his full height. Keith's sword was gone – Alaric's was not. "I... I made it!" he said in disbelief... And before either of them could react, the bridge groaned under the weight of Alaric's impact, and the section he was standing on crumbled to nothing.

"ALARIC!" Keith shouted, diving forward as the crumbling stopped for good, the cracks spent. At the last instant, against all odds, he caught Alaric's paw in his own – and staring into his eyes, dangling his only family in the universe 600 feet above absolute death, the world just stopped. There was only them. Alaric looked up. "Keith?"

"You… you saved me! You've… decided to go back to our side!" The elation in his voice was too much for Keith to bear; that, coupled with the pain tearing through his body as he held his brother at the bridge served to lend simplicity to his speech that he couldn't find before. "No, I haven't! Don't you get it yet, Alaric? It's not about sides!" The rain poured down, starting to run down his arm, stinging in the countless claw-marks and making him grit his teeth. "Maybe I have been away from home too long, but I don't care about sides and politics anymore! I just don't want to see my friends get hurt! Not Natani, not Trace, and not even YOU!" Alaric looked up in awe. "…me?" for a moment, he was silent, and then he looked away, somehow ignoring the peril to his life and truly thinking for the first time since Keith had re-entered his homeland. "Maybe… the laws could be wrong…" Alaric whispered, just loud enough for Keith to hear. Elation bloomed in Keith's chest as he heard those words – and then fear exploded outwards as he felt the water start to seep between their palms, and the general slipped a fraction of an inch. "AAAaaahhh… Alaric, I… can't pull you up… can't hold you…!" Panic welled up inside of him. He couldn't. Not now. Gods, please, no, not NOW! Alaric gasped and grabbed Keith's sleeve with his other paw, tightening his grip. "Keith, no, wait! Just don't let go, there are thing I have to tell you, I couldn't work up the nerve before… I wanted you to be proud of me! Everything I did for you, everything, even the eye… I just wanted you to be proud of me…" he locked eyes with Keith, and in that instant, every second of his life with Alaric flashed through Keith's mind: from the first day he could remember seeing him, to every game of tag in the meadows, every class they'd skipped, the friendly competition that had blossomed within them, Keith carving out a name against his bigger, stronger almost-family with guiles and tricks, and Alaric laughing and helping him, the day of Keith's exile, every second of longing, all the hours that Keith had wanted to return, if only to rejoin his Alaric, stand in the same room with him, know he was safe… Everything he was to Keith, the strength, the smile, the father figure he'd latched onto when his own father proved himself a monster, the comfort Alaric had offered him, how hard Keith tried to make him proud… and how never, not even once, had he considered that Alaric might look up to him, as well… maybe it was Alaric's magic that brought back the memories, maybe it was some whim of the gods, but whatever it was, the next words he spoke carried more weight than Keith had ever heard, and the very rain seemed to stop its sound, if only so Keith could hear his brother's whisper: "...I did it all for you..." And the tearing sound of cloth seemed to rip Keith's soul in half as Alaric's claws found their way through the fabric, and he tumbled from his grasp.

"KEITH!" Alaric shouted. He grabbed in a panic at his arm, but found no purchase, and was in an instant out of Keith's grasp. "NO!" he screamed, reaching desperately downwards. "ALARIC!" His voice cracked as he watched the Basitin plummet, a hundred feet, two, three… staring back, expression unreadable. For the longest time, Keith found himself unable to speak, and when the fog swallowed his brother a mere second after he slipped, the anguish and loss welled itself up, his most powerful suffering able only to make the weakest of manifestations. "Nick…"