We've been working at this for a long time now, and finally it's done. Yay.
Okay, you won't find solid blocks of our writing styles in here; we edited each other's parts. The division was quite even, so the story can be credited equally to both of us. Hope you like this.
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And suddenly, the priest knew that death was too close to escape.
Steel flashed, ripping the blue sky. The Devil's Sunrise tore by the priest's head in a move meant to behead him—and it would have, if the sword hadn't missed him by what felt like a mere inch, cleaving off a lock of his fine golden hair.
"Stand and fight, coward!" the crusader gnashed his teeth and bellowed, preparing his next blow. Again the magician took a few seconds—just a few seconds outside of real time, in imaginary-time—to try and comprehend. His assaulter was only the same level as him, but far more powerful—impossibly powerful. Simply godly.
Then again, it was to be expected.
The priest gasped, and drew up another unit of mana. "Holy Wings!" his cry thundered in his throat. As he swung his Kage, a bright angel rose over his head, spreading her powerful wings.
The shafts of light were like soaring spears. With an agonized grunt, the crusader stumbled back, sparing enough time for the priest to heal himself. But within moments, exhaustion had launched itself upon him again. And too late, he noticed that the untamable warrior had risen once more.
Why battle for a life already lost? The vestiges of his determination had slipped away, without his knowledge. In the pool of his heart there was only a web of panic, dulling his every desperate struggle.
Gone, gone, gone—everything…
How does it feel, to know that your death has been made certain? To him, it was like an anesthetic coldness, a bitter snow, numbing him slowly to the world. It crept deeper every second, waiting to douse him in the winter of death.
But before him, the warrior's sword was roaring with hellfire.
The priest never thought about how it would feel to die, for he hadn't the time to. He snarled with resentment—futile resentment—and steeled the blade caught the sun, imaginary blood flooding the edges of precognition, and cried, feeling the pain that would toss his life away—
That was when it appeared. A gleaming knife at the edge of his vision—like a swift blackbird from beyond the trees, absolutely unstoppable.
The crusader's gleeful look turned into shock.
The sword fell at his feet, crunching deep into the earth. The warrior's mouth fell open in a silent gasp, his eyes yellow and wide, gaze bright for half a second more.
Then a cry shook the earth, blood spraying across the rocky Perion mountainous round and decorating it scarlet. The crusader collapsed to the stone, gasping like a strangled boar, struggling for a life that was rapidly soaring away.
The knife was lodged too deeply in his neck—there was no way he would live. His legs were sinking into the pond of his own blood.
The priest stepped back from the corpse-to-be, breathing deep.
A Varkit, a chief bandit's dagger. He wouldn't believe it. It was impossible. Turning in the direction the knife had come, he searched for what he knew he should find.
A grinning young woman approached the cold corpse and removed her knife as soon as the crusader had paled to the color of pure, untouched snow—unlike that of the stygian black seal on his soul. The shock was still so raw—the necromancer's assault, his life suddenly being thrown back at him after he'd felt it being wrenched away—and now, the young priest could hardly find simple, suitable words to say.
"Thank you," he finally managed, still breathing hard, slowly coming towards the girl.
She smiled warmly at him with full, rosy lips. The bountiful beauty she displayed amazed him, those violet eyes having a depth he could lose himself in, her hair as wonderfully dark as obsidian, in contrast to the priest's own locks of sheer, molten gold.
"It's always good to do something good for someone—I mean, I just couldn't walk away, knowing that I might have been able to save someone's life," she replied modestly. "Even if it means taking another life."
"Well, that life was nothing more than a dead, black heart—okay, a little piece of trash. Or maybe a disgusting creeper." He shrugged. "They're everywhere—and they aren't any better than monsters now."
The chief bandit girl seemed to agree with him. "I can't go anywhere without seeing one of those. I have a feeling that one day, Khaini's evil rate will skyrocket. And there we go."
"And maybe you'll have to save my life again!"
The thief laughed merrily, and his heart leapt at the sound. "Or maybe, you could be the one saving my life." The girl brushed out her sleeves and turned back to him. "So, what's your name?"
"I'm Luca. Just Luca. I'm not really anyone, and I don't think I'll ever save your life." He watched as her eyebrows rose. "I don't even think I'll ever have the strength to spill blood for anyone's life—" His eyes dimmed. "—I'm just weak and pathetic, like that."
"Name's Annette. Hey, don't be so doubtful—maybe you could do something else honorable in the future! Doesn't have to be saving a life, you know."
They stood there in a moment of silence, both eyes fixed on the dead warrior, then decided they would leave him here to die a dishonorable death, such as the ones he and his comrades had brought upon so many others.
"Okay, maybe. Well, is there anything I can do to repay you?"
"No, Luca, it's good. I'm not too greedy."
"No, Annette—I'll find a way to give it back, I promise." He paused and glanced about. "So, I think I'll go train now," he muttered, turning towards the mountainside that sank into the Dungeon.
Annette looked after him, and after a moment of thought, called out, "I'll go with you."
He looked back at her, surprised. She stopped.
"I'm sorry, it's just that everyone's busy and I don't want to train alone. And I think you're around my level—whatever. It's your choice."
Luca grinned in welcome. "It's alright. That'd be fun. And maybe I'll get to repay you."
While she cleaned her knife and stored it, he wondered. Here was someone who loved to kill, without the cruelty. How could someone like this exist? He wanted to learn more. He wanted to know how such a spirit could have been born.
Days rushed on upon the sparkling river, melting into weeks and months, a mixture that seemed to slip away from his grasp far too quickly. Much more than being a training partner for a day, Annette had followed him everywhere—and like a rope slowly being woven across the pages of a calendar, he could feel their friendship growing.
Not only had she given his life back to him at the last possible second, she'd also brought it up closer to heaven every day. Often, they sat in the sunny parks of Victoria Island while the children played games close by. Sometimes they would hold skill display contests between themselves in hotel lobbies, and get passers-by to vote for the more spectacular—Luca always won. "Ha, I wonder when you'll ever beat me," he loved to joke after each. And she would huff in indignance, glancing accusingly at her knives. But that wasn't the only skill practice they had. Sometimes, too, they trained under the moonlight, when the hunting grounds were empty.
Through these days, the priest felt like there was nothing he could do to repay Annette for her actions. He felt like he could never live up to her, always feeling suppressed when trying to emerge at the surface where she was: so much more energetic and determined than he was.
Yet, somehow, he knew that they fit together so well. He would look up to her, always wanting to have her courage and willpower, and to never flaunt it. And she would look up to him, and long to be as carefree, as united with the beauty of the world.
Throughout, too, the necromancers continued to pose a hindrance in their journeys. Whenever the pair had encountered them, they had begun fights. Annette would battle them without hesitation, always defeating them with his help. How well she clung to her cause, even nearly risking her life, in her hatred for the dark arts. It had taken her siblings, she had said—and she wouldn't let it happen again.
Would he ever be able to give so much for his reasons? Sometimes, Annette made Luca wonder how much he would do for something he truly felt for. Would he ever amount to anything? He feared that he didn't have the willpower to do the same—but every time she smiled, that fear would fly away.
And further into the world they traveled every day, every night—all of his questions never finding their answers. Yet, it never mattered, for she would always be there to heal his doubts away.
Annette and Luca grew into close friends, as the brilliant seasons slipped away in their gowns of starlight. And somehow, the skies never seemed to let go, though the world had darkened so.
"There, behind you!" Annette's voice echoed on the distant walls of the Clocktower, her warning giving Luca just enough time to whirl around and kill another Spirit Viking. As bright white wings rose and encompassed him, light flew from his staff to burn the ghost, before three more appeared in their huge ships. But at that moment, much to his gratitude, the chief bandit came to join him at his side. It took them no more than a minute to finish the job.
Again he thought, we fit together so well. With her around, it was so much easier. Whenever he failed to see an oncoming attack, she would be there. Alone he wouldn't have stood a chance—but with her, they were undefeatable.
A good day of training done, the two departed for the city of Ludibrium above them. Without noticing it, he began to gaze upon at the dark haired girl once more. Was it possible that she had grown more beautiful? Her smile enchanted him now, as it never had before. As they passed the evening-lit toyshop windows by, the priest felt his heart swell with warmth. Was it just his imagination, or did the night sky shine in her eyes?
"Luca? We've arrived, in case you haven't noticed."
Startled, Luca quickly composed himself, blinking. He followed her into the hotel, watching her back as they walked across the lobby to the corridors. Then they parted at the doorways, but somehow he couldn't take his eyes off her as she entered her room and shut the door.
Why is my heart aching…?
Fifteen minutes later, Luca's doorbell rang. He answered it to find Annette at his doorway, her rough chief bandit's attire now taken off in favor of a velvet dress. The priest felt his breath leave him. Her beauty was wild and dark and alluring—but her face was innocent. An angel's. Without her weapons, she suddenly looked graceful, weak, vulnerable.
He suddenly felt strong affection course through him—and for no reason, fear. Fear for both of them, fear for her. So many things were happening nowadays. They had run so far—but could they run forever?
Swallowing, he self-consciously neatened his clothes, and together they walked down the streets, searching for a place to have dinner.
As they seated themselves at a table, Luca realized that every time he looked up, he would see Annette's face. Suddenly embarrassed at the notion, he glanced away.
Dinner was served, but their eating was completely silent. The priest glanced up at her every few minutes, unable to help himself—but he flinched every time he found their gazes suddenly locked. It was all a very uncomfortable affair, however good the food and service was. As soon he had finished, Luca hurried departed from his table, walking out into the starlight before Annette could follow.
Why is she making me so nervous? I've known her for two years. What's the matter now?
Before long, the chief bandit rejoined him, and together they decided to take a stroll. All around them, the trees were cloaked in night as the two walked beneat the lamplight of the dimly-lit streets. "Nice place," the girl suddenly commented into the still air, her voice making Luca's heart skip a beat, or maybe a few. She turned to face him, her gaze helplessly trained on his eyes. "…Did you…enjoy dinner?"
When he tried to reply, he only managed to nod.
Past a park they walked, the scent of trees filling the night air like perfume. The moon was a silk crescent, her face full of calm laughter. They continued in silence, when just a month ago, they would have been chatting fluently in such a situation. Something was definitely different tonight, and both of them knew it.
"Luca…" Finally, as they settled upon a bench and Luca began to hum awkwardly to himself, Annette spoke. He turned to face her—but she only looked down at her feet, kicking gravel about. "Hey, I was just wondering…you know—" She stopped, and he could see her blush even in the moonlight. "It's a crazy question. Just out of curiosity, really—how far would you go to…keep me by your side?"
Luca froze. Suddenly, beneath the layers of fear in Annette's violet eyes, he saw it—the intriguing, questing, burning hope that he had taken so long to notice. Confused surprise suddenly made him smile, as he felt a thousand days echo back, through seasons lost long ago.
And he realized, for the first time, how right it was. Him, and her. Bliss and passion. Light and darkness.
"As far as it takes," the words rushed out, all of a sudden—but he never did retract them. "Further than possible. Further than the sky."
She laughed at his response, but it was a nervous laugh. Then she took his hand suddenly, and blinked her eyes—those eyes of fire, those eyes of infinite heaven.
Annette's smile ended, face taken over with earnestness. "My answer is the same," she replied, tilting her head, smile slowly returning. Luca never asked, for he didn't have to. He didn't have the chance. She leant close, and as their lips met, he felt the world melt around them, the universe flooded with starlight.
Annette found the days rushing by like a blizzard, even more beautiful than before. It had been a year since that blessed night in Ludibrium, and now they were engaged. The plans had been made, and they had booked the chapel in Ellinia. Finally, the day had arrived—that wondrous day when they would be united.
Annette watched across the pews and aisles of the gloriously sunlit chapel as the process of their marriage wore on. It seemed centuries until the minister ended his gargantuan sermon, and the choir rose.
"When is this going to—"
Annette's loud comment was stopped by Luca, who had clamped his hand over her mouth. Many people turned to stare at her. "It's about halfway through," he whispered back. "In church, you should keep quiet. It's proper respect for the Goddess."
The Shadower sighed. Keep quiet in church, don't fidget in church, don't play with your wedding gown… How could anyone last two hours in a place like this? Why not skip all the boring procedures and get straight to the marriage? After all, marriage was about the union of two souls, not money spent on dresses, flowers, and services.
Luca had said that it was in thanks of the Goddess, who had brought them together, and who was about to officiate their marriage in her heavenly records. "The Goddess has Her own ways," she recalled her husband-to-be saying. "We must respect Her wishes."
But who was this Goddess? She had never understood all this theology and all the talk about holiness and light. She didn't understand how there could be some deity everywhere, watching over everyone at the same time. It was a silly idea.
But for his sake, and for the sake of how much she loved him, she did not speak, or fidget, or play with her gown. She willed herself not to think about when the mass would end, instead trying to listen to the song that the choir now sang. The voices of the group blended well, sopranos, altos, tenors and basses joining in powerful harmony that swelled like a river.
"O great Goddess, fount of mercy
Watch their lives with gentle might
From your home beyond the heavens
Where the sky is always bright."
Annette would have yawned, had she not had the respect not to. Hymns were meaningless in her eyes, just some cheesy verses wishing them a happy marriage that would last until they were in heaven. Why did Luca love these songs so much?
"Take them in your gentle keeping
Let them weather every plight
Till at last, in peace, they're sleeping
On the wings of endless light."
Luca seemed completely enchanted by the music. "You know, there's this little legend," he sighed, "that when we die, we'll all go to heaven as rays of light—and each of us will make the sky just a little brighter. It's a nice thought, don't you think?"
If it were true in the first place, she thought with staunch disbelief. "Yeah." Hopefully, he hadn't detected the cynicism in her voice.
But finally, finally, the time came for the two to be married. She had felt utterly self-conscious, when they had gone forward to take their vows in front of the old white-haired church minister, before kissing in front of everybody. Thankfully, Luca's sheer presence gave her comfort, and the short three minutes went by wonderfully.
She felt like laughing as soon as the mass ended, and the choir sang their final hymn, the church minister closing his book. The wedding dinner that followed was the best Annette ever remembered having. She gazed upon Luca's face, love and comfort flooding through her all at once.
Time is a wheel, an endless road. One may find days he never wishes to lose, but Time will ever move, move on.
In years to come, Annette and Luca had a daughter. They named her Aura, "halo". She really was the light of their lives, and they watched her lovingly as she became a toddler under their care. The two moved into a house of their own in the lovely forests of Ellinia, a home filled with love and warmth.
But it seemed that the balance would never be stable in Victoria Island. On the day Annette and Luca had met, the problem had just begun. From then, it had only grown, slowly but steadily, like a stealthy malignance in the heart of the island.
Now, there were reports in the news all the time about this strange illegitimate guild, Astarien, creating terror all over the island. The reports came closer to home, and no one could be certain what move they had planned next.
Nothing to worry about, the two thought to themselves as they browsed the news together, Aura playing in Annette's lap. It's nothing to do with us. Reassurance like this was their only guardian now, when the world seemed on the brink of falling to pieces.
In the tides of the silent night, Luca shook Annette's shoulder. "Something's wrong," he muttered, staring out the window one cold autumn's night as he rose restlessly from the bed. Beyond the rustle of leaves, he could hear noises—noises a little distant, but ominous all the same. He could hear shouting in the far reaches of the forest, and sense darkness coming their way.
"What, you think Astarien's coming to blow us up?" Annette said bitterly, wanting to go back to sleep and have decent dreams without thinking of the evil of others.
"You read my mind," Luca replied, turning back to the window. A group of three had entered their neighborhood, their scarred faces cast deep by the flame of their torches.
Luca cringed, feeling a surge of suspicion in his heart. Walking to the wardrobe, he quickly dressed in his magician equipment and reached for his Blue Marine. In these times, he always reminded himself to be wary of everything. Something was not right tonight. It was like a thorn in his thoughts.
Annette rose from her sleep and gazed through the window, eyes widening as she finally believed what her husband had said. Neighbours were also looking out their windows, some coming out onto the rope bridges with bleary eyes.
From the house across from theirs, a man came out onto the wooden street. He angrily shouted at the intruders, his Dragon Claymore pointed at the throat of the person closest to him. A young boy and girl peeked out from the door behind him, the boy carrying a very small girl in his arms.
"Kids, stay inside!" the man shouted at the children, before returning his attention to the intruders. Fright conquering their little faces, the poor children quickly ducked back inside.
All along the street, eyes were focused on the courageous man whom they knew would do everything to protect the children. They thought the three strangers as good as gone, for he was a renowned warrior.
How wrong they were. In the darkness, there was a flash of crackling yellow, and people gave cries of shock, attention shifting—
Suddenly, a house went up in flames, rafters falling inwards, fire catching the branches above and blooming into a thousand ravenous torches.
Panic exploded through the city, like a gunshot.
"We should go," Luca suggested while Annette hurriedly dressed in her battle clothes and reached for her daggers, the roar of flames beginning to grow. "Ellinia's lost. We can't do anything. Let's go."
"No," she replied with worry. "They'll kill us. Or if we kill them, more will come."
The commotion swelled into thunder. The crackle of flames rose ominously, and suddenly there were screams everywhere—people fleeing, people already being devoured by fire. The bishop felt his heartbeat rise, a familiar terror awakening within him. Something else is about to come, the coarse, dry air whispered in his ears. Something, something—
And with a surge of battle cries, necromancers poured in to Ellinia, waiting on the borders till now—torches and weapons high. They were ready for battle—and victory. They soared to claim the bridges as another house collapsed, wrapped in glowing orange, the fire creeping along the branches like long arms.
Branches swayed. Suddenly vaster than an ocean, the flames roared greedily, swallowing everything like a shining blanket. The wave of attackers bombarded their ways into homes still free of the flames, and screams could be heard as sleepers were slain.
It was all an immaculately-planned massacre. The chances of escape were close to zero.
"There's too many," the bishop gasped. "If we stay, we'll definitely die. If we run, we still have a chance. Just take as many down as you can. Let's go."
Just then, their daughter appeared at their door with her teddy bear, rubbing sleep from her eyes—only to be snatched up in Annette's arms and whisked into the dark. Together, the three slipped away, beginning their escape from Ellinia.
There was an astounding mass of chaos outside, altogether one large babel of screams and light. Light and flame, blood and death. Tiny shreds of hope and glory scattered, even. All around, shadows were flickering. The streets that had once been swaying beneath footsteps were now hanging on end as they burned away. Broken branches collapsed upon the roads, snapping more ropes and throwing more people to their doom.
No time to worry about them. Annette and Luca ran blindly, dodging between the columns of flame, steeling themselves against the shrieks of pain all around, seeking out that last passage of escape at the west end of Ellinia.
"Shining Ray!" Luca found himself crying so often, and sometimes his most basic yet quickest attack, Magic Claw. Now and then necromancers—and he knew they were necromancers by the insignia on their apparel—would try to force him down to death, but he would quickly take them down with only moments between his desperate attacks.
A blade slit his cheek open, and he stifled a cry of pain. The warrior of a necromancer slammed the edge of his blade into the bishop, slashing a long, bloody line against his torso. "Magic Claw!" the bishop commanded through clenched teeth, his powerful magic knocking down the warrior—but not before he was cut again, this time a wound so deep the blood flowed out in a sudden stream.
Healing himself as he pushed his way through the crowd to make a safe path for the females, dizziness and exhaustion clamped weights upon his arms and legs. But they could only run, run, run. He couldn't teleport, and Annette couldn't use Flash Jump, or they'd land in an unfavorable place.
Straight into the edge of a sword—and have their lives extinguished, as sudden as a thunderclap.
Annette and Aura ran behind, along the path he was forcing through the throes of attackers. He stood like a guardian in front, throwing off every attack as the two caught up. A shadower stabbed him, but he did not heal himself, only killed the man. He couldn't waste any strength for self-regeneration; every ounce of energy he had counted in their chances of escape.
From the arms of the storm they burst, into the calm of the night road. Suddenly, Ellinia was far behind, and they were sprinting down the road to Henesys. Glancing back, he saw Annette with Aura in her arms, their daughter in tears—and the towering, burning shape of the Ellinian Forest behind.
Aura was too young to face this, and he knew it. He had to get her to safety, give her an opportunity to live and achieve what she could, later. She had to get out of this alive, at all costs.
Minutes into the silence of their hasty journey down the deserted road, they heard a rustle from the bushes lining the road. Feeling a cold tingle on his neck, Luca picked up speed and urged them to run, hoping to lose the pursuers.
But to merely hope was to tempt fate.
"Hey! You!"
The three froze, gravel crackling at their feet. "Tryin' to get away?" the same man shouted. Then, six shadows emerged from the bushes. The leader was a warrior, either a crusader or a paladin, and the look on his face was enough to get a group of children in tears.
Just like someone I met…six years ago.
"Why do you think I'm here?" the bishop growled in response, knowing his words would anger the warrior and ignite a dangerous fury.
"We have clear orders. No one must escape from Ellinia alive!"
Luca only had an instant to register those words of doom.
In a flash of flame, a blade shot from the dark. The warrior was knocked back by a simple attack from the bishop, but all too soon, Luca found himself surrounded. Not only was he surrounded; Annette and their daughter were trapped with him. It was impossible for Annette to abandon the wailing Aura to fight, or the poor girl would die.
Alone, he thought, thoughts going stone-cold and knife-sharp. I will save them, alone.
Then they launched themselves upon him, all at once. Giving a cry, he began to battle. Alone.
But slowly, slowly—he realized that things were going horribly wrong for him. As he tossed a blast of light in every direction, he felt lightning tear his skin from everywhere, a sword hilt crushing his ribs so blood spilled from his mouth. He was dying, he knew. But he fought with all every spark of passion in him—for beside him, there lay two people who had to live.
He'd already known the feeling of near death. He'd known it years ago, when he'd first met Annette, whom he'd grown to love enough to give his life for her. And now he was prepared for it again.
Flames flashed all around him, any one of them possibly fatal, had he not been faster. He sustained his fight, though he was slowly breaking down, one cell at a time. He stumbled in blindness and felt more lightning assail him.
"HOLY WINGS!" the command came as a weak attempt to fend off the masses. Light exploded from his staff and knocked them far away—but with each skill, he grew a little weaker, his movements a little slower. A thief leapt at him with the strength of a beast and the speed of lightning, a dagger aimed at his throat. With his staff, he barely managed to throw him off.
Why does this all feel…so familiar?
Luca panted heavily, sweat running into his eyes. He glanced down at Annette and Aura—then at the assaulters, sparks bursting in his vision. They were discussing something among themselves, for the moment. He took the opportunity to heal himself. Yet, everything grew even more blurred, and he knew his mana was dropping.
And something snatched his breath away, then and there. The world was crystal clear.
A female scream.
Flashes, flashes of hell. Annette's face in agony, a dagger plunged deep into her side, her own blood cascading to the gravel in heavy rivers.
Annette, no—
"GENESIS!"
Wide, golden lights erupted in the air, pouring down upon all the necromancers, three descending in blazing flames. They shrieked in terror, their clothes slowly consumed by monstrous the fire.
But that was nothing. It had merely created the chance he had needed.
Annette. Luca dropped to her side in horror, despair falling thickly upon his bent figure. Their daughter had fallen out of her mother's arms, watching something too much for her tender age. She was screaming, wailing from the horror of everything that was going on around them.
"Run away," Annette said, her voice as weak as a slight breeze but still as lovely as a flower. "They're injured; it's your only chance."
"What do you mean? I won't run away without you!" he replied. Then his voice dropped in sadness. "I can't."
It wasn't happening. No, it wasn't happening.
This was the woman who had given him so many years more in life than he was supposed to have. She had given him life, and joy—a sweet daughter, a real life, company through the long years…
No…not now...
…not now.
Behind him, the necromancers were healing each other in a dark circle. He rose, gently closing his eyes.
How far will you go for what you feel? The memory of his thoughts when he had first met Annette rushed back, all of sudden. Years ago, she'd been an energetic, passionate girl, and that was what had amazed him and drawn him to the life he didn't know he could have had.
Now here she lay—the very same person, slowly fading from existence before his very eyes.
How far will you go to keep me by your side?
He didn't want to see it happen. He had sworn to protect her, and he wouldn't break that vow.
How far?
Suddenly, he realized that he still had a little mana left in his reserves. Just enough. And at once, he knew what he had to do.
His heart was thumping fast as he brushed her sleeping eyelids, a single tear escaping his eye. Here was the girl who had brought him a life and a love he would never have found anywhere else. Her eyes were narrowed in pain, so much pain. He had to end it.
"Don't you worry, dearest. It won't hurt any more. I'll keep you safe forever."
Forever.
The stars were humming softly overhead. The night was falling to pieces.
"Resurrection," he whispered, holding his staff over her. His mana hit zero, and his health sank—Magic Guard once his protector, now his murderer. In sudden agonized exhaustion, he descended to the ground.
The instant Annette awoke, Aura in her arms, she screamed. Not for fear of their attackers, but for him.
There was no time for mourning now. They were still there. They, the ones who had led him to death. She sprang to her feet, all skill returning as she snatched the dagger in her fingers, eyes blazing with tears.
"Boomerang Step!" The chief bandit soared forward, master of her blade once more, her strength coming from rage and tears and darkness. She tore through them with skilful slashes, giving them only moments to cry out before their blood and guts spilled over the earth, a deathly painting across the cart track-riddled road. She ripped through them like a blade through a thorn hedge, throwing them off from in front, behind—hurt and anger driving her beyond humanity. She leapt against their weapons when the swung, striking with deadly kicks—crushing their heads with sheer force.
And as the last body dropped to the ground, it was so quiet. The wind blew the ashes of the forest like petals, and as she turned to look, she saw that Ellinia was dark once more. Dark, and dead.
Aura began to cry again, and Annette turned. "M—Mother…" she gasped through her tears. Annette stroked her head, heart empty. Then, raising her eyes to the night, she slipped through the darkness, leaving her daughter among the dead. She raced to her husband's side, crying tears she had never known she held.
In the darkness, everything was blurred; a mere smudge in time. Luca felt his breaths—counted them. They were as deep, deep as the sky and the stars above.
Against the starlight, a pale shadow fell across his eyes. From her light footfalls and gentle breaths, he knew who it was, and took comfort in it, smiling. Annette. You're walking again.
As she dropped to his side, Luca found his eyes widening slightly, so he could see her face again. "Are you going to leave me?" she gasped, dimly. "Please, Luca! Don't you want those old days back, when the sun was still bright?"
But he would never have them back. Something had changed tonight. Starting tomorrow, the sky would forever be imprisoned in shadows.
"Thank you," the priest whispered nonetheless, pushing those thoughts away—catching a last beloved glimpse of Annette's tearful face. Thank you—it was the first thing he had said, back when she had just saved his life. He heard no response, only a soft sob from the determined girl he had once known.
Luca smiled, suddenly realizing how fitting this was. Through these days, these years, everything had finally come full-circle.
This was only right—one favor for another. Her life, for his.
And as the final brilliance in Luca's eyes faded into the night, Annette collapsed upon his body—still so warm—sobbing into his blood-drenched clothes. Luca, who had given her every reason to live and fight, from the moment he had smiled at her. Luca, who had brought her closer to heaven every day. Every day.
Who would they share the splendor of the world with, now?
Somewhere behind, the woman heard the sound of Aura sobbing. Breathing deeply, she stood and walked over, taking her daughter tightly in her arms. Together, they cried.
"Well, is there anything I can do to repay you?"
"No, Luca, it's good. I'm not too greedy."
"No, Annette—I'll find a way to give it back, I promise."
Annette was standing in the ruins of what had once been the majestic Ellinian Forest, their home once—now a dark remain, a shadow of what had once stood in its place. It was nothing much now, but it would do for the funeral. There was no better choice for the venue than the place where Luca had spent the best years of his life.
Oh, gosh, I'm crying again, she realized, quickly smiling to herself in defiance as she wiped her eyes with her black sleeve.
Chairs had been brought in from Henesys, rows of them now standing between the dead trunks of old Ellinia. The small group of people who had survived the fire was now gathered in the tiny clearing, waiting for it to begin. The wind lifted the leaves into the air like petals, the black fragments twirling away into the dead treetops, between brilliant shafts of golden light, sifting between.
Annette felt guilty. The burning of Ellinia was an event that would be remembered for the rest of history. Everyone they knew had died in fire, and each victim was now a pile of cinders on the forest floor. This would be the only funeral resulting from Astarien's ferocious attack.
She glanced about at the audience's faces as she stood by the rostrum, reading pity, fear and grief off their faces. Aura seemed uncomfortable as she sat with two slightly demented children from the neighborhood, Azura and Adelaide. But strange as they were, their little hearts knew it as well—the pain of losing a parent, or both.
The service began. One by one, speeches were made about Luca—his love, his strength, his cheerfulness—all so honest and so painful.
Then it was Annette's turn. Standing upon the rostrum, she cleared her throat, allowing all nerves to drain away. "I…I don't know how to begin to start, really," she began, willing her heart not to hurt so much. "It still stuns me so much. Luca was—my light. My everything. He was a wonderful person, truly the greatest person I could ever have chosen…" There was a murmur of agreement from everyone in the audience. "He made my life so much brighter. He probably doesn't know it—oh, I should have told him."
Wiping her eyes momentarily, she blinked and looked on with determination. "You know—I first met him when he was about die. I saved him that day. And we—joked that he might someday repay it by saving me."
It wasn't a joke. You meant it.
"I never thought he would keep his word. But…he did. I just wish—it could have been different. I wish we had escaped together, and continued our journey together. But this cannot be changed. Death cannot be changed. Time is a wheel, an endless road. One may find days he never wishes to lose, but Time will ever move, move on."
For a moment, she fell silent, and the distant birdsongs wove through the quietness, ever so sweet. She cleared her throat of tears, and continued. "All I can do now is thank him for doing so much for me. For changing my life. Luca—I hope you can hear me, wherever you are."
She looked up at the open sky and felt the wind kiss the tears on her cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered. "I love you." The audience gave her resounding applause. Returning to her seat in the front row of the audience, the funeral mass went on.
Slowly, at the corner of the clearing, Annette heard a stirring of voices. Her mouth opened in surprise, and even then, the music continued to grow.
"O…great…Goddess…"
As the first hymn finally began, she took in a breath of wonder. The voices were rising softly, and the tune suddenly stirred something deep in her. Another day, when she had heard the very same tune—and ignored it.
Why did it mean so much, all of a sudden?
"O great Goddess, fount of mercy,
Watch their lives with gentle might
From your home beyond the heavens
Where the sky is always bright."
Bright…?
The wind rose around her as if in answer, stirring the dead leaves into the blue and gold sky. One by one, the congregation stood to wish the dead bishop a last goodbye in his coffin. The firelighter stood aside, head bowed. The grief of these poignant minutes wrenched the woman's heart inside her. Soon, his body would be gone, gone in ashes like the rest of Ellinia.
But wasn't the body merely a shell? Wasn't there a soul somewhere—somewhere else, soaring away upon new wings…?
Finally, Annette's turn came. She stood, walking slowly towards the coffin while the rest watched, only Aura's tottering footsteps giving her comfort.
"Take them in your gentle keeping
Let them weather every plight
Till at last, in peace, they're sleeping
On the wings of endless light."
Annette felt a tug on her arm. She turned as she arrived at the ebony casket upon the pyre stones. Aura looked up at her with questioning eyes.
"Mother? When is Father going to wake up?"
Annette felt tears rise, but she reserved it to a brave sob. "Someday," the shadower replied softly, squeezing the four-year-old's hand. "But not here. Somewhere else." She took the girl into her embrace, stroking her hair gently. "Somewhere else."
It's time you escaped the pain of the world, Luca. You don't deserve it. You deserve to be in heaven.
The thief raised Aura in her arms, so she could take one last look at the man who lay behind the glass of the wooden coffin, features so calm he could almost have been asleep.
"He'll wake up somewhere else. Somewhere where he will be happy, forever."
Where there are no necromancers, no shadows, no tears.
Annette brushed the glass. That shining joy, the bright smile that had lit her days—here they still lingered, just beyond the glass—a wall of glass she would never pass through. Only light passes through glass. Slowly, reluctantly, she opened her fingers across the window—letting go, letting go.
The young woman returned to join the rest of the audience, and the firelighter stepped forward with his staff between his palms. He drew an oval around the pyre, and the wood caught gentle fire, the smell of incense wafting through the air.
Annette watched, and didn't try to turn away, as the flames rose and grew, enclosing the dark, hard wood in brightness. Beside her, her daughter began to cry.
Luca had said it once: When one dies, he or she will go to heaven as a ray of light, and make the sky a little brighter.
It is a beautiful thought, the thief had suddenly realized. Perhaps that was why the sun suddenly seemed brighter, why it was such a beautiful golden day—it was the exact shade of his hair.
Annette raised her gaze to the imaginary reflection of herself in the sky—and she smiled at how dark they were: her eyes, her hair, her heart.
How right they had been, together. Him, and her. Light and darkness. Bliss and passion.
Now he had been taken. Claimed from the world, by the very darkness that had brought them together. Now he was far—further than the distances her voice would ever transcend. Further…than the sky.
How far will you go to keep me by your side? She had once asked.
Further than possible. Further than the sky. His reply.
Slowly, Annette closed her eyes, and the shining tides of the past rose to claim her, drown her. Then, she began to remember. She remembered lost afternoons in old hotel lobbies, when Luca would create a brilliant Genesis, and flood the room with light. She remembered how she would laugh—a silly little girl being entertained by a conjurer.
And she remembered, too, how the passers-by would always vote him the winner of the contest.
Absol: Wow, it's done. Read what Randomness says.
Randomness: Review, plz. This took forever!!!