Weakness
It was the dead of night. Sanctuary lay silent. The only light came from some burning torches, and the only people awake were the guards on duty.
Noone noticed him as he slid out of Athena's temple and headed down the Twelve Houses of the Zodiac. Noone saw him as he krept from shadow to shadow. He wasn't wearing the regalia he had newly acquired, but a black cloak.
Finally he reached his destination. A building, one to lay fallen Saints in repose.
The inside was dimly lit by two large candles. The flames danced on the gold of the Sagittarius Cloth. A white shroud covered the body lying on the altar-like stone pedestrial. Or at least it looked like it was.
All an illusion.
Nevertheless, the sight stabbed his heart. For a while, he, Saga of Gemini, stood at the pedestrial and stared down on the illusionary corpse. A single tear fell on the shroud. Huh? He was crying? He hadn't noticed.
But his heart was bleeding. This accursed weak heart of his.
Saga fell to his knees.
„I'm sorry, Aiolos", he croaked. His voice didn't seem to want to obey him. „I'm so sorry! If I just had been stronger…"
Pain pulsated through his body like an evil heartbeat. Something tugged at his mind, and darkness krept in from the corner of his eyes.
With a mighty effort, Saga sent his mind into the struggle, trying to keep the darkness back, the evil that lingered inside him. It made his body tremble.
„Not yet!", he growled.
Saga looked up at the Sagittarius Cloth. An illusion. Just like Aiolos' corpse, the armor hadn't been recovered. For one part, Saga was glad. This way, neither would've fallen into the clutches of the evil inside him. On the other, he wished that at least the Sagittarius Cloth would have been recovered. He would have had something to remind him of Aiolos. Anyhow, as things stood, he hoped that at least the armor was at a safe place.
Sweat began to cover his body as he tried to keep back the demon inside him. But he was not yet ready to yield. He had some words to speak before that happened. And he wasn't letting anything prevent him from saying them.
„Aiolos", he panted. To his surprise, more tears streamed down his cheeks. „Wherever you are right now… I hope… I hope you can… find it in your heart… to forgive me. Athena… you too… I performed the unspeakable… crime… of lifting my hand… against you… me… a Gold Saint who swore loyalty… against you… the goddess I love… please… Athena… Aiolos… forgive me…"
His words broke off. He sensed that he was loosing the battle. The blackness began to spread into his field of vision. He slumped to the floor.
„Curse youuu!"
The cry was directed at his tormentor. Saga hated the being possessing him in his own mind. He knew that it would be the source of many tragedies to come. He hated it with all his heart and soul. But he hated himself just as much, because of his weakness. He was weak. His heart was weak. Were he strong, nothing would've been able to take control him. He wouldn't have robbed Aiolia of his older brother. He wouldn't have forced Shura to kill the man he admired most. Many bad things in the future wouldn't be going to happen.
If he just had been strong enough… but it was too late now.
Far too late.
Saga's vision was almost black.
„ATHENAAA! AIOLOS!"
One final scream of his conscious self. His hand tretched out towards the Sagittarius Cloth as if it could provide him salvation.
Then nothing.