Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Soul Calibur.

Author's Note: This took me ages to write. About… four months? I've been ridiculously critical of it – there's not often a time where I feel proud of a fic, but well, this is an instance. This was initially a oneshot but due to its length I've decided to divide it into three chapters. I chose to end this fic where I did deliberately, so… Please no "and then he found true love after SC1" crap because that entirely defeats the purpose of this piece. Enjoy!

MADE OF STONE

It was summertime at the Ling-Sheng Su temple, and a boy stood on the cliff's edge, watching the sun dip beyond the horizon and gradually out of sight. His arms were folded across his chest as a light wind battered his long brown hair about, and Kilik quietly studied the way that the colours of the sky blended with the ones he could see below.

Soft footsteps were soon heard. He did not turn around – he merely waited for his friend to come and stand beside him. When she did, there was a slight pause before he heard her speak in that singsong manner that he was well accustomed to, "I thought I would find you out here!" When she gazed out too for a few moments and took in the sight, she continued, "Ooh, its definitely pretty today."

"Xianglian, you always say that," he remarked, trying to hide the smile in his voice as best as he could. In response, she lightly shoved him and sat beside him, her eyes never leaving what she saw before her. He, though, had long since redirected his eyes to look down on Xianglian; and in her ignorance, he allowed the smile to physically come through for a second or two, "You should be inside. You're still recovering from your cold."

He spoke very little, but it was always to the point and calm. Xianglian grinned and slid her hands underneath her thighs, feeling the earth beneath the palms, "How I got a cold in summer is beyond me, but I'm feeling much better! I'm a bit annoyed that I still got sick in the first place, though… But I appreciate your concern!"

And on the contrary, she spoke volumes – enough for the two of them, really. They were always together, hardly ever apart, and Kilik really liked it that way. He had been raised as a monk – a monk in training at the moment – so he knew very little about his feelings; but whenever he was around her, he could confidently say that he felt happier, and even a little more outgoing. He never wanted that to go.

She began to go on and on about training, and he moved to sit beside her, cross-legged and forever attentive. She tucked her black hair behind her ear as she prattled on, commenting on how a particular hit to her back had made her feel as fragile as an old woman, and she disliked it. He poorly joked that she may as well get used to it now rather than later, and in response, she shoved him once again, laughing a little to try and ease him.

She looked down to her fingers, feeling as though that they were going to tie themselves in knots – she was extremely nervous. Taking a deep breath in, she began to talk again, "I've been hearing these whispers lately… The monks are talking about the treasures again, and who is set to inherit what in a few months. My name has been bounced around a lot compared to a few others, such as yourself… I'm not sure how I should feel."

So he blurted out the obvious answer, because Kilik knew no art of subtlety, "You should feel happy."

Her face morphed from worried to slightly amused, and then back again. It was here that Kilik noticed that his 'sister's' was shaking – her nerves were far more powerful than he initially thought, "I know that, but considering my family history… Well, I don't think I should inherit anything. I'm happy just being who I am now, with you and the others here in the temple," she smiled a little, teeth catching the sunlight, and Kilik looked down to his hands just as she looked to him, "If I can stay here and live a peaceful life with people I care about, then I know I'll be set for life. I don't need to be 'rewarded' and all, you know?"

"I disagree. You should be rewarded as you are dedicated and gifted. Your family history is a part of you, but it doesn't make you who you are," he straightened up, clenched a fist and looked at her with a boyish grin, "You are fully worthy of such a future, Xianglian – don't let those issues get in the way. Your life's your own, embrace it and live it to the best of your ability."

He watched carefully, waiting for her to stop trembling – he wanted that victory. He wanted her to be happy – she deserved that, and she deserved so much more. If he could give her happiness… then Kilik didn't need to do or become anything else in the world. That was enough. That was more than enough.

The youth was brought back from his thoughts when he felt a light touch to his bicep. Her fingers curled around his red sleeve, bringing him closer to her, and he wondered what was going on as he had absolutely no idea. The next thing he knew, her eyes had closed, and some instinct took over and made him do the same when Xianglian pressed her lips to his – and she tasted wonderful. Something else in him made him reach for her, but –

She had already pulled back, let him go and was again gazing over the cliff's edge with the smallest grin he'd ever seen. Kilik felt his cheeks heat up – he didn't understand what had just happened, he only knew that he wished it lasted longer and that he could have it again. He shuffled about, facing forward wholly once more, and held onto that feeling in his chest, even as it evolved tenfold when she used his shoulder as a pillow of sorts. Just for now.

He wished he knew more about the world and understood things better. He decided then to ask her one day if she could explain why he always felt so happy being around her, and why his heart always clenched and felt as though it had magically grown wings in her presence. Xianglian truly made him fly. He wanted to fly forever.

She looked so beautiful that night.

There was something… otherworldly about her face. It was strong, and delicate under the glimpses of the moon. He watched from her doorway, but Xianglian knew that he was there, for she could see him in the mirror. She'd been brushing her hair, combing her fingers through it after every brush – and her hands were shaking again.

Kilik entered quietly, standing behind her until she was done and able to give him her full attention. She still stood there, gazing at his face in the reflection; and Kilik buried another smile, one of thousands that were hidden, "You're still nervous about inheriting the Holy Mirror. There's no need to be concerned – you'll do great. Trust me."

She smiled a little, curling the end of her long hair around her finger, shifting all of her body weight onto one side, "Thank you, but its still a huge thing – for the both of us. I'm surprised you're not a little nervous, actually," he merely cocked an eyebrow, and it caused her to laugh and turn on her heels, placing both of her hands on his shoulders, "This is going to be so great! Maybe we can go and find the Krita-Yuga soon – that's the one that's not here."

Kilik offered her a shrug, and the act caused her to let go of him, "If that's what you want."

She nodded – she wanted to undo the ills that her family had done. That sword belonged with its brethren – it belonged here, too. Happy that he was okay to help her with her personal, future quest, she reached up and ruffled his hair, grinning when an annoyed expression briefly crossed the hidden depths of his eyes. The grin vanished when he reached up and cupped her face in response, his brow slightly furrowed as though he was trying to decipher something.

"Is there something you need to say?" she asked, mirroring his action, the corners of her lips gradually ascending.

Before he could open his mouth, one of the higher monks burst into her room, eyes full of fright. His entrance surprised the pair, though only Xianglian let it show as their hands dropped swiftly. He looked to the two of them, rasping out in desperation and volatile panic, "Please come to the main chamber immediately – we are giving you the treasures this instant. There is an evil upon us. Quickly, come!"

They both nodded. Xianglian looked to Kilik with a worried smile and took his hand, following the other person. She squeezed it – he squeezed back – and they travelled through the Ling-Sheng Su Temple, minds racing into multiple futures. He knew the path he wanted to go down – but the stress in the monk's voice made him bite his lip.

She looked so – warped – distorted – that night.

His thoughts were not his own. Kilik may not have understood his feelings, but the thoughts that were crossing his mind frightened him. He was trapped, held down, and all he could – remember – see – was that one, bright beam of light he'd glimpsed at from the window moments earlier when she was not there. The boy holding the Kali-Yuga – you – was not the person he knew at all.

He was a beast – a savage, rabid – monster… killer… Open your eyes, Kilik of the Ling-Sheng Su Temple, and see your 'family' – and there was this voice that he could not shake. This voice controlled him, made him move – and he watched as the Kali-Yuga soared through two of his fellow monks, ending their lives. He thought for a moment that he – can see their souls leave. They're the lights that ascend, blind to those without my power.

The… thing made him look around. It made him see the people he had slain. It made him realise that he was the last man standing, ankle deep in blood. Hundreds of monks, his friends, his 'family', his teachers and his life were all destroyed – yet he felt nothing. Not so much as a single drop of guilt, or remorse, or despair. What was this? What was going on?

"Kilik!"

And that's when he looked at her, wondering why he had been so blind. Xianglian was standing proud and tall in front of the temple door, shaking – she is afraid – and staring directly at him. She was a little cut up, but she otherwise looked normal. There were tears in her eyes, and the part of him that he never understood was surfacing again. He wanted to go over and stop her from crying – he wanted to make her happy.

The thing cringed, disgusted, pained, You love her.

A name to his feeling, a description to the idea, and he still did not understand.

Xianglian puffed out her chest, trying to be brave. He noted the Dvapara-Yuga around her neck and he was glad that it had not been taken off of her as she moved to escape – but the thing made him do something else. It made him slide into stance and grip his rod tightly, ready to lunge forth and strike at any moment. And then he panicked as he was forced to reach out and attack.

With the grace he'd become accustomed to, Xianglian weaved out of the way of his horizontal hit, sidestepping and doing whatever it took to get closer to him. She understood the Holy Mirror's power – whatever this was, and whatever it did, it shielded her from its effects. She had to save him – no matter the cost.

He came in, going for a kick and then a poke to her feet with the weapon. She anticipated it, jumping clear of the poke and sidestepping the rod. She quickly tore the Dvapara-Yuga from her body, sliding it over his head as he remained poised in his sunken form – and then she didn't know what to think. There were moments of… blankness… uncertainty… Welcome to my dominion.

Kilik blinked several times, free of the weight that he felt. He stood to his full height, dizzy, and looked to the only other living human in the temple. Panic-stricken, he placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her roughly, "Xianglian? Xianglian!" He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and felt a childish fear swallow him whole as her pupils dilated.

She smirked at him – he didn't like it when she smirked – and she punched him in the stomach, forcing him to buckle forward. From there, she grabbed his hair and tossed him to the ground, laughing in a way that he'd never heard before – and he wondered if he laughed like that before she gave him the Holy Mirror.

Coughing up blood, he rolled over, weak – and then Xianglian was straddling him, that cruel smirk still on her face – and her small hands were around his throat, constricting. He was choking. He couldn't breathe. He needed air. He needed to live. He needed to save her. He needed to ask her about his feeling – he needed to ask her what 'love' was and what it meant.

Mentally bracing himself, he struck her in the side with his knee and then pushed the Kali-Yuga up from its position against his chest, until it pressed deeply into her throat. The reciprocated feeling caused her to release his throat and get off, needing the oxygen just as much as she did. Xianglian inhumanely roared, clenched her fists and went after him again.

He blocked every strike, too scared to make one himself, "Xianglian, can you hear me?"

When there was no response, he felt his eyes water, doubly so when she struck him across the face with a knife she had found nearby. He didn't know what this thing was and he didn't know how to save her – or if she could be saved. All he could do now was fight back, maybe knock her out and try and repurify her soul into the one he knew. All he could do was strike her with the Kali-Yuga to the side of her head and watch as she collapsed, and a shiver consumed him when he saw that light again in passing. He wanted to hold onto hope.

There is no hope, the thing hissed. Despite the Holy Mirror, it seemed that it never quite left.

There was no hope. There was no choice.

Kilik felt the water slide down his cheeks as she took another swipe at him with the weapon. He dodged, made her trip over with a well-timed swipe to her legs, and pushed her down to the ground. The impact seemed to have twisted her leg – and he hated it, he hated it – and he could not brace himself for what was to come next. For what had to come next.

He squeezed his eyes shut, roared and slammed the Kali-Yuga down onto her chest. He felt her flesh, ribs, heart give way beneath it, and she stopped squirming, struggling, breathing, living – only dying, only dead. He withdrew the Kali-Yuga, sobbing, and took several steps back, his stomach incredibly weak – he desperately, desperately wanted to vomit – all he could smell was blood – he killed his 'sister' – he killed his family – there was nobody but him.

The last monk.

He collapsed.

Kilik woke, hearing a man hum as he carved a figure out of a block of wood beside him. He had a thick, white beard and moustache, and long hair of the same colour tied back. The look on his face was of concentration and a quiet, tamed rage – this man seemed to be more than perhaps he himself could understand. He had only seen him twice before at the temple to talk of the inheritors, but nothing more. He never spoke to him – he reminded him of a whisper.

Without warning, the youth half sat up, rolled to his side and vomited, feeling him begin to shake all over. The act alerted the man, pulling him away from his wood piece, and then there were two firm hands on his shoulders, helping him sit up a little despite the giant wave of nausea that threatened to strike again. Once he was sure that the boy would be able to sit up without assistance, the man stood and strode to the other side of the room, grabbing a mop and bucket, hoping to clean up the mess as fast as possible.

As he worked quickly, he spoke to the stranger, "Your name, boy."

"Kilik…" he rasped, a hand coming to press against his forehead. It was hot and clammy – an unwelcome feeling. He groaned, the memories coming back – and then it felt as though his heart was being forcefully squeezed, nails digging into the flesh. His bottom lip trembled – the pictures were so vivid – he wanted them to burn and never come back. He was clever enough to know, though, that the memories would stay with him. Xianglian was to haunt him.

You will never forget, the thing said, Because I will not allow you to.

He inwardly whimpered, tears forming again – he wished he understood.

"Ah, I was told about you. You were to inherit the Kali-Yuga, but I see that the Dvapara-Yuga has made its way into your possession as well," satisfied with his quick work, the man put the bucket and the mop back into the far corner of the room. He then returned to Kilik, standing before him with his arms folded across his chest. His voice shifted from a silent curiosity to a gruff command, "Do not ever remove that necklace should you wish to keep your sanity."

Kilik nodded, the act causing a dizzy spell. He put a hand to the ground, bracing himself a little, and he spoke again, "I remember this bright light… and then this feeling of being held down, unable to control actions. I killed so many of the monks…" he shut his eyes – he could hear their cries, "I killed the inheritor of the Dvapara-Yuga in self-defence. Xianglian gave it to me to save me – she was my best friend."

"Do not dwell on the past. It will lead to your destruction."

But Kilik was weak, and he knew it. She'd been his weakness.

But if Xianglian had been his weakness, and she was now gone – then that should mean that he had no weakness. That meant that he would never feel like he was flying again. That meant he would never bow or bend to the will of another. He was no longer a blade of grass – he was a breath of air, free to float, but without a purpose. Free to become whatever he wanted. That is what he was for now – but he already had his sights set on what he was to become.

He was to be made of stone, so he never felt so wounded again.

The man, uninterested in whatever thoughts Kilik may have entertained briefly, interjected them with his booming voice, causing the youth to jump slightly from his position on the ground, "It has been two days since I found you. The corrupted temple has been burnt down following the events of the Evil Seed – that is what you were affected by. It is a demonic curse of sorts that originates from a greater evil. I presume its influence has not left."

The Evil Seed… "The voice?"

"It can appear in any form to the victim," he remarked, watching as he rubbed his dark brown hair – he assumed he had a headache, "For you, then, it is a voice locked in your mind," he began to redirect the topic – Kilik did not need to dwell for now, "I am Edge Master. I am to train those who inherit the treasures from the Ling-Sheng Su Temple – and seeing as you are one of them, I am now your new teacher. Is this understood?"

A brief nod, "Yes, Edge Master."

Edge Master nodded in return and began to leave the room, footsteps swift, "Very good. I will give you a week to recover from the events, and then we shall begin your training. I expect you to be fully devoted – I am going to teach you to master the Kali-Yuga and, for your current condition, to learn how to control the evil energy within you and the weapon," he paused at the door, holding the curtain back with one hand, and looked over his shoulder with a softened tone, "Grieve in peace, let it all go – and then look to your brighter future."

As he exited, Kilik sighed, bringing his knees up to his chest. He was alive, but at the cost of his wings. His future would not be bright – his future would be dull, dreary and ugly. Without Xianglian, without all he knew at the Ling-Sheng Su Temple and with the Evil Seed's curse, Kilik did not look forward to the life he had to come.

If anything, he feared it greatly.