Echoes of Fire and Gold
Summary: Their story didn't start with the war, and didn't end with it either. Trauma inspires a will of steel. Friendship has a beginning and an end. Devotion has many forms. Those shaped by war can evolve to become more. Secrets are revealed, new friends made. Danger in unexpected forms, and help in unlikely places. The reunion of souls, and the separation of friends. Celebration, battle, and resolution.
Warnings:
Torture, alcohol, domestic abuse, suicidal thoughts, murder, eating disorder, skin disorder, mental disorder, fighting, blood, drug abuse, and discrimination.
Thanks To: Gurakruor for being an awesome unofficial beta and sounding board!
Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne, nor the characters presented in this fanfiction. Characters, setting, and references from the movie belong to Bandai/Sunrise, and Kazuki Akane and Ryuta Yamaguchi
Based and Inspired by:
Escaflowne the Movie:
Girl on Gaea
With inspiration thanks to:
Vision of Escaflowne, the Series
Authors Notes:
Just want to thank everyone who takes the time to read and enjoy this story. I know our fandom is very small, but I'd like to give this
fanfic to those who loved and enjoyed the movie as much as I had, and those who have a soft spot for the under appreciated antagonists.
Except Folken, because screw that narcissist.
I've learned a lot about good and evil. They are not always what they appear to be.
Charles Van Doren
Chesta was home. A quiet temple nestled into the mountains. The sun's rays peaked through the open air windows. The curtains rustled along the clay walls. The sky was shades of amber and periwinkle. He was in love with the off red color, bringing him peace each morning.
The morning birds would chirp, bringing their songs to him as he would sleep an extra few minutes. If it meant shaving time from eating that was fine with him. He was never hungry anymore. Sleeping made it more bearable.
He could hear the patted sounds of feet running through the halls. Other boys like him going into rooms to meditate, or to listen to lectures. There was a quiet calm here, no sudden sounds that frightened him. No screams and quiet begging sobs.
He detached himself more, more from what it was that tied him to his body. It was hard, but it was worth it. To go home, to feel alive again and calm. Home brought him calm.
RED
The Abaharaki were the largest force against the Black Dragon Clan. It was the only force that could keep the Clan from total domination over Gaea. The Black Dragon Clan took the skies, their numbers growing out of fear and enforcement. The Abaharaki ruled the grounds and roads. Their allies great across the countries of Gaea.
There were other factions who claimed the Abaharaki name, using it against the Black Dragon Clan. People declared themselves Abaharaki to bring fear to the Black Dragon Clan Soldiers. To bring hope to their towns and villages. Abaharaki was a name chosen for hope.
Others used the name to gain control of their own villages. Those who used the name to pilfer money from villagers and diplomats for "war efforts".
The worst of these groups had a name given to them, the Inquisitors. Named for their biased views of those "to be judged". They ravaged towns taken over by Black Dragon Clan soldiers. Towns that had allegiance with the Clan suffered the Inquisitors. They burned down the enslaved beast villages,
Those who had ties with the Black Dragon Clan, forced or willing, met their end.
Morning brought a strange calm, the mountains seemed brighter and more majestic. The sign seemed almost surreal good omen. A young man no older than 15 picked up his tea and sipped along the edge. He got up from the table and opened the balcony curtain. Chesta sat on the edge, feet swinging back and forth as he worked on his tea. He needed to go to the spring and bathe, he was starting to smell and his scalp itched a little.
He set the cup down and leaned back on his hands, looking at the expanse of land that the Black Dragon Clan set aside for their temple. He'd been here for as long as he could remember. His earliest memories was of the elder Kuaru hitting him over the head for falling asleep during meditation.
He still felt tired in the mornings, he should have slept in instead of make tea. He could take a nap on the balcony, or meditate for a while until he fell asleep.
Morning meditation was exhausting, his skin itched to go to the springs and get cleaned. He also needed to shave his head again. He could avoid the looks of contempt for so long before the elders did it themselves. He had a full day planned already and meditation was for once (ok, this was an often issue for him) painstakingly long and tedious. Prayers to the gods and goddess followed, thanking them for their support in the war.
He skipped morning meal and went right to the springs. He'd have the time alone to himself, which was a nice change. His bare feet padded along the soft ground, he smiled at the feel of insects crawling along his toes, doing him no harm. He picked some fruit from a wild plant and ate it for his breakfast along the way. He could better meditate when he didn't have four clay walls surrounding him. He stripped off his robes and slacks, hanging them from a low branch and slipped into the cold water. He eased down to get used to it, his jaw rattling from the drop in his body temperature.
He took the blade from his robe and shaved along his scalp, using the oils already there to glide the blade. Rinsing it off as he went he relaxed against the cool of the spring. When he finished he submerged his head into the water, loving the feel of it over his face and raw scalp.
Finally he washed the rest of his body. Trying to get the week of dead skin and sweat off his body. Happy with his efforts, he slid out and grabbed his robe and pulled it on. Walking back with his pants draped over his shoulder so he could air dry.
The temples were isolated from the rest of Gaea, everything was on the other side of the mountains. No one could get to them without an air ship.
Noon meal was a welcoming sight for him, the fruit he ate was not at all filling and he was already famished from skipping morning meal. He ate his fill and laughed with the other boys, they teased him about his hair finally getting cut. He went to his lectures, prayer, and then evening meal. He loved the rice and the assortment of raw vegetables and fruit. Rice was always his favorite when they had it. With raw egg, and green onions. It was the first to run out, getting it only once a month. And there was no set schedule for their food provisions, keeping their location secret from the rest of Gaea.
He laid down in bed after undressing, pulling his thick blanket over his shoulders and curling up in the warmth of the night.
When Chesta woke up, it was because of the screaming. The dark night still cut through his windows and balcony. It was hot, and his throat dried out from the lack of humidity. He wanted to go back to sleep but he pushed his drowsy body out of the bed and grabbed his robes. He went to the balcony and looked over the edge to see a few dozen men rushing into the temple. Dragging boys out by different limbs, some didn't move and his heart sank into his stomach. He turned and grabbed the blade from earlier. He took his sash and wrapped the end of the blade to be able to hold and defend himself with it. He slipped out of his room and saw unfamiliar faces dashing into rooms and laughing at the screams. They were not Black Dragon Clan soldiers, their uniforms were too different from each other, they had to be rebels or outlaws. How they found them was the last thing on his mind. He rushed one, slicing through the leather of his vest and into his ribcage. He pushed hard, feeling the bone snap against the blade that vibrated into his fingers as they wet with blood
It was the only kill he got.
When he opened his eyes again, he was with at most twenty others. His head had a tender knot on the back, his arm was sore and he could taste blood. There was a sharp, stinging pain from the blade that cut through the rag and into his fingers when he dove it into the man. Blood stained his skin all the way up to his elbows. He tried to rub it off, scratching as it as some flaked off.
The sun was already up and shining through the tent they were in. It was hot and he felt disgusting. The other boys next to him were frantic and whimpering. Trying to be brave in front of their captors. He looked around at the others, there were so many missing. The elders were gone. And more than half of the temple's population was gone. He hoped they had been in another tent, or had escaped. He tried to focus, trying to use his ability to see into the beyond, maybe see what their fate was.
Another boy next to him elbowed him, trying to get his attention. When he opened his eyes he felt a blunt object connect with his shoulder. Letting out a scream he fell to the side and curled up to tend to the pain the best he could. Not caring that his head was resting in one of his brethren's laps.
Under the whispers he heard the muffled words of assurance as he tried to push away the pain.
They moved again, chained neck to neck, in a long lined convoy through the forest. None of them knew who these men were, but it was obvious that their small group was the only ones captured. Hungry and tired they made the trek barefoot through the wilderness. Chesta wished that a pack of beast men would attack, and set them free. They were peaceful and kind to the nearby villages, so there was hope.
They only came close enough for the villagers of the beast clan to stand outside their homes and see the parade of hostages. The boys screamed for help, only to have their captors strike them as punishment.
Two days of walking finally came to an end at a large building in a deserted wasteland town. There was nothing for miles beyond that in any direction. Most of them had already succumbed to dehydration. One had died, and they dragged him for a while before getting cut loose. His body tossed into the forest for the animals. No one was to know where they were going, because no one was to save them.
The building had three floors. The top floor had boards blocking it off, with a flight of rotted stairs. The main floor had several rooms, but the main area as they entered had a large table with provisions. Many of the boys looked at the food in desperation.
The bottom floor had ten cells, each cell had metal rings on the floor and on the wall. The cells were only separated by bars so when they put two to three in each cell, they were able to hold and comfort each other at the least. They chained up the strong boys, and just left weak ones to spiral down
Chesta sat in his corner, chains around his ankles to think of a plan.
They were finally given old water and stale bread. Chesta didn't care about the mold, starvation was a new sensation. Later regretting the action, wishing he'd stuck to the water alone as he had no choice but to vomit in their cell. Crying out apologies to his cell mates.
They slept in a huddle each night, clinging together to keep warm when the temperature dropped to half of what it was during the day. As well for protection, to make sure none of them disappeared in the night.
Only after two nights of quiet in their cells, the captors took them. Questioned, beaten, and treated to other indescribable things.
One man, that would take lead in interrogation, had a bad eye. His face had cuts along his cheek and temple. He told the story with great volume about how a feline woman didn't care for his advances. So he removed her eyes and cut her tail off. Her bright blue eyes were cast in resin and hung from his neck like a trophy.
Chesta hated the man, the man had taken favor with a few of them. The ones who had clear blue eyes. He made fun of Chesta, calling him a rabid dog. He would have them stripped down and take sanding blocks to their tattoos. To destroy their clan markings. Scraping their skin until they bled. When he used his ability to push himself away from them, the man poured sand into his eyes. Massaging it into the skin and the flesh of his cornea. He would scream as they rinsed out the sand and tried to question him again about plans they had no way of knowing.
Another had tried too many times and had his eyes removed. His ability cut off at the source, and in the night the boy began to eat dirt and rocks. It was the only way to die there, they had no clothes to hang themselves, they had no sharp objects to cut into their flesh. Their nails had began to get brittle or fall out from no protein or good water.
Chesta had to stay vigilant. He had to survive until he could get revenge.
But it was tested time and again, seeing a good friend bled out from his ankles, finding one of his cellmates dead in the morning that had clung to him through the night.
Soon enough, there were only a few left. No one had information and it infuriated their captors. So they left one day. The man with the damaged eye taunted them with a false promise they'd be back to let them go.
They never did.
The little water left for the several left was drank, but they still suffered dehydration. The only saving grace was it was dark inside the cells. So when their water finally ran out, two died of kidney failure. And almost like mother Gaea had mourned them, she rained down on their graves. Chesta collected as much water as he could, drinking it at a slow pace and wishing he could pass it over to his brethren. They did not scorn him for taking advantage of the saving grace. One of them had to make it out.
Days would pass where no food came to him, and after a week he was desperate. He tempted to eat from the dead body of his fellow seer, but could not commit the atrocity. He heard scary stories about those who did. Cannibals who became corrupted, their bodies would burn in the sun and their eyes stained red. So he went without food for a another day until a scavenger came to take the food he had passed on.
He caught the rat and broke it's neck, and used his nails to open up its belly. He forced back the feeling of nausea and ate the dark gray muscle of the animal. He chewed on its tail, and tried to get any nutrients he could. He was sure he was the only one left.
He did this for a few days, until one rat's hide was too thick for his nails to cut through. And instead they peeled back, falling from cuticles. Only deterred for a moment he used his teeth.
The rats stopped coming. It had been two days living off a rat here and there, with sips of drying, stagnant rainwater before he finally ran out. Throwing up was something he now timed. It didn't matter if he lost his meal, he knew they were all doomed to die there. No help would come, and the Black Dragon Clan would need a great tracker to find them.
He started to hallucinate as soon as he realized he was the last one. The last of the boys died from eating a sick rat, or the flesh of his cell mate. Desperation had drawn the boy into being reckless. The one before him, died from kidney failure like many others.
So Chesta laid there, watching spirits walk among the cells, dreaming about his home. He would pass back and forth between the two places. Imagine himself home, in his bed, with his favorite amber and blue morning light surrounding him.
Hearing the peace and calm of the mountain range.
Then he'd snap to reality. A frightening quiet, haunting reality with corpses all around him. He'd sleep, drink, zone out, sleep more, wake up and drink. Try to find a rat or a snake to gnaw through.
Author's Note:
Thank you for sticking through to the end! I hope you enjoyed that intense first chapter. Or at least enjoyed it in a very empathetic way.
Let me know what you think! Next chapter will be up next wednesday! Have a great week and weekend!
Next Time: Chesta is frantic when someone has entered into his personal hell, but when they turn out to be his saviors, he's almost too close to death.