Chapter Two

He slowly lost awareness of the world, only to have it all be replaced by a black, unending void. Its dark tendrils cocooned him, shielded him from the realm of the living. At first, he thought that he had been tricked, that the Earthmates had killed him instead of putting him to sleep. Or maybe that's what they had meant when they proposed this test of theirs.

However, the dead don't think.

With that in mind, he tried to settle. Not that he could feel his own body. He was only aware of his mind, and that was a bit frightening. But if he was aware at all, he still had to be alive, right? What was that phrase from the old tongue? Cogito ergo sum? That sounded right. It was a wonder who had the kind of time to sit around and wonder if anything was real to come up with that sort of thing.

Or…maybe floating around in a boring void did that to people. Slap a fancy robe on him and call him a philosopher, because thinking was about the only thing he could do in this place.

And it quickly became apparent that thinking was a terrible pass time when there wasn't real life to temper it. Or…maybe it was quick. Time was meaningless in this place. There was no way to tell how much or how little of it passed. It could have been a few seconds or centuries, for all he knew, but it felt like he had been here a while.

He began to miss sensation, first. Any sensation. The feel of another's flesh against his, the warm embrace of a friend, the aching feeling one got after a long workout, touching a purpling bruise after taking a beating in the sparring match. Pain or pleasure, he didn't care which he felt first, he just wanted something more than I can think to remind him that he was still alive. Something more than this oppressively empty void.

Next, he wondered after his friends and family. Were they still alive, or had too much time passed for that? And if they had all died, had they had happy lives? Could broken promises be forgiven, or would they destroy futures? Even if he woke up, and they were still there, would they accept him back, help try to rebuild his life? Or would they shun him? Would they even recognize him? Would he recognize himself when he woke up?

Such thoughts could easily send a man to insanity, and he found himself wanting to silence his own mind more than once. After all, it was proving to be like an assassin; in company, it will laugh and be your friend, let you live a little…but the second you get separated from the crowd, it would attempt to murder you. And if it's a sadistic one, it will make the process a sort of slow torture. Not the good kind of slow torture, either.

The only thing that kept him sane was the thought that this was for a friend, one that was worth far more to the world than he could ever be. For her, he had to stay strong. Of course, he was starting to wonder if it had been in vain, anyway. If it had been long enough, his usefulness would have run out, and then what?

Eventually, he decided that if he caught himself brooding over things that he couldn't answer, he forced himself to recall fond memories, or imagine himself in an infinitely better situation than this one. Not that it even really mattered. He would always come back to himself…or the lack of self, in this case.

He had hoped to be able to get out of this hell eventually, but he was convinced that they had forgotten about him here. There had to have been a solution by now, right? If so, why else would they leave him here? Some cruel joke? If he could free himself from this unending prison, he would. Unfortunately, though, that wasn't an option. Even if it was, he had no idea where even to begin.

So it's easy to understand why it scared the holy living shit out of him when he felt a sharp pain in his side. Under other circumstances, he would have grit his teeth and grabbed a lance to fight of the unseen attacker. As it was, there was no lance for him to grab, and…by God, he was still alive! He could feel again, and a hundred impressions hit him like a tsunami. They were jumbled, confused, but they were there.

Then, it all slowly receded back into nothingness, a whirlwind dying down into a faint breeze. He cursed his luck. A fluke? A way to instill false hope where none existed? Perhaps someone was trying to free him and they were defeated. Or maybe the damn foxes cut themselves on a loose rock. The problem was that he didn't know what happened in the outside world, anymore.

But then, it happened again, the rush of sensation, the sharp pain. And again. And again. Maybe there was still hope after all. Maybe someone hadfinally found him in this place and had the ability to release him. Of course, it was likely that they would fail. After all, the Earthmates had said that this place would be well guarded. He hoped that whoever it was wouldn't end up dead because of it.

Because of him.

All at once, the inky darkness ceased, and he was looking at the insides of his eyelids. Behind that was a blinding light. But he could see. That he was even aware of the light was better than it had been in…how long had it been, anyway? His body hurt all over like a wicked bitch, and while he would have preferred a nice hug or something, he would take it over nothing.

While he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes for the harsh light, it didn't take him long to hear clearly. In fact, he was pretty sure that he couldn't hear that well before. Raspy breath. The echo of boots on a stone ground. The subtle creak of well-oiled leather. The swish of skirts in time with the footsteps.

A lilting soprano voice, exhausted and in pain, but victorious. If the other slight sounds were music to his ears, the voice was a symphony. If only he could will his eyes to open to see who possessed it.

"It's over," the voice said to the room, "It's…finally over."

On top of the pain he was already in, he also became vaguely aware of his side pressed against a cold sandstone floor. He was still in the tower, if he were to guess. That it was still standing meant that someone either put powerful spells over the place, or that it hadn't been that long at all. He might be able to repair the damage he caused before going to sleep.

Suddenly, a loud noise, which suspiciously resembled an explosion, sounded through the room, and he slowly lost awareness of the floor below him. There it was again, and it repeated several times. No, no, no! Not now! Not when he was so close to freedom!

But instead of darkness, light behind his eyelids only got brighter, if that were even possible. What the hell was going on?

That girl—he would guess it was a girl, anyway—seemed to be wondering the same thing. The difference was that she had the means to vent her frustration out loud.

"Dammit! Where are you going? What's going on? I…I can't…reach…"

Was she...jumping to try to get to him? The way her boots thudded against something hard and the frustrated sounds she made every few seconds told him…yes, she was.

"I…didn't come…this far, just to…leave without…you! Get down here!" she cursed in between breaths.

Then she let out a curious noise that was half sob, half sigh. Something more than boots thumped heavily against the ground, and he wondered if she had exhausted what energy she had had left.

She started to mutter a string of choice words, and then stopped suddenly. Moments later, he felt something heavy land on his torso, and instinctually moved to grab it. What the hell was this girl up to?

He knew he couldn't be a big baby about it anymore and his eyes snapped open, right as she shouted the word, "Aria!"

Instead of a black void, a white one surrounded him, albeit with crystal flowers showing up here or there. Below him was the owner of the voice. He was a having a hard time focusing his eyes on her.

"Who are you?" he demanded as small details came into focus. Long silver green hair drawn back into pigtails. A smile that didn't quite reach her jade eyes, which were filled with regret and sorrow. Burns and cuts covered most of her visible skin, and she had probably seen better days.

Instead of answering his question, she said, "Head east from here and you'll get to Selphia. Venti's there, and she's waiting for you. When you see her, tell her…tell her thank you for being my friend. It was fun."

"You—"

Before he could say anything else, she disappeared. It went black for a moment before he was unceremoniously thrown into a room. One he knew well.

This was the room where they had made him into a Guardian.

As he lost momentum, one of the items the girl threw on him scuttled away from his grasp. He was about to reach after it, but as it stopped, the room burst into a storm of color and energy. Runeys drifted up from the floor wherever he looked. It matched the power his body would have provided, and then some.

So that was their grand solution, he mused.

Close to the stone…or whatever it was, was a ring. As he moved to pick it up, however, it shattered.

And that would probably be how she got me out. Foolish girl.

Sighing, he tried to push himself up…and slipped on something wet. Curious, he held his hand up to what little light the candles in the room provided. The flames glinted off a dark red fluid.

Blood.

Too dark to be fresh, too light to be old. It's possible it was that girl's, but it hadn't looked like she was injured enough to leave such a puddle.

Slowly, he maneuvered himself so that he could observe the areas where he hurt the most. There on his side was a rather deep gash.

Well, that was new.

Cursing, he muttered a weak healing spell in the old tongue. It wouldn't do more than stop the bleeding for a little while, but it wasn't like he had the energy to perform anything stronger. With some of the pain dulled, he attempted to push himself up again, conscious of the puddle of blood this time. He had to stagger over to the wall to support himself, but he managed.

Next, he recalled the vague directions the girl had left him with and paired it with a mental image of Venti. Teleporting spells were something anyone should be able to do in their sleep, and just because he had been sleeping for a long time didn't mean he couldn't, either.

His surroundings melted away, and as they reformed, he was staring at a castle. It was small compared to some of the things he had seen, but grand, nevertheless. He had a feeling that Venti was in there. If she wasn't, he didn't know what would be big enough to house a dragon, but oh well.

Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to take the twenty steps or so it would take to get to the entrance without keeling over. One foot forward, one pull at his side, his back, his aching muscles. One hissed curse. Another foot forward, a leg that threatened to give way, black spots dancing in his vision. Grit teeth in a determined snarl.

As he moved to take the third step, he couldn't keep his balance anymore and fell to his knees. He was so close…but it was so far away. He felt tired, weak. But he had to keep going. He hadn't gone through all of this for nothing, and he sure as hell wasn't going to make that girl's sacrifice in vain.

Growling, he pulled himself forward a couple feet before staggering back to his feet. The black spots increased in number and ferocity, and he was basically looking through a tunnel. But he had to keep going. It wasn't that much farther. It couldn't be. Because he had to make it. He had to make sure that girl could get out all right, even if he himself wouldn't last. Dammit…

One step forward; slow, painful. Another. And another. Surely this one effort was taking a lifetime in and of itself. Well, his remaining lifetime, at any rate. It didn't matter, though. He just had to last long enough to get the message across, and then if he died, he died. It was probably better that way, at any rate.

Just as his legs were about to give way again, he was able to brace himself against the entrance to a shrine of some sort. He had made it. He attempted to form a sigh of relief, but all that came out was a hiss of pain. He would be lucky if he could remain conscious for the next minute, and he was sure that his pathetic healing spell had already worn off.

A voice called to him from the right. "Leon?"

Then she was still alive, then. Good.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," he slurred. He was so tired…what did he need to do, again? What had been so damn urgent that he couldn't just go to sleep? Why did he put himself through all of that?

"Leon!" Venti said again, considerably more alarmed.

Well, he had gotten here. He was sure that he more than earned a rest…

Suddenly, the pain fled his body all at once, and his weariness receded enough that he could think again. He would probably have to grovel at her feet for that one later. Damn dragon.

"Geez, what's with you, stumbling in here covered in your own blood and barely responsive or coherent? Do I have to everything for you people?" the dragon before him griped. She had grown. That didn't bode well for his fears.

"Nice to see you, too, Venti. Seems like you haven't changed," he smirked.

"And you are still as impertinent as always," she responded dryly.

"Right, greetings out of the way, there's something that still needs doing…"

…

"But what about that girl?" Luna pressed, knocking Leon out of his memories.

"I was getting to that part, sweetheart, before you butted in," he pointed out.

"So what happened?" she asked again.

"Easy, the dragon goddess went back to the light place and pulled her out. And they lived happily ever after. For the moment, at least," Leon said.

"What does that mean?" Luna asked.

"It means that there are more stories about them, but it's well past your bedtime," he replied. The sun had taken its leave long ago, and the moon shone in through the nearby window.

"But I'm not tir—"she was cut off by her own traitorous yawn.

"What was that? 'Good night, Daddy?'" he asked, smirking.

"But—"

"I can always tell you more tomorrow, if you want," he offered.

The girl seemed uncertain. She certainly wanted to hear more, but she also didn't want to go to sleep. That might have been partially his fault; his girl loved stories as much as her mother does, and he was sure that he would find her buried in books when she could read.

"Fine," she groaned, as if it were her choice.

"Good girl. I'll see you in the morning," Leon replied, pressing a kiss to her brow.

"Night, Daddy," she said as he closed the door behind him.

…

A/n: Well, this is going better than my pessimistic self had expected. It appears to be well-received, all things considered…I'm glad there are people out there that take interest in this!

School will be starting up soon, so I wouldn't expect a regular update schedule by any means (what is this concept?) But I'll try to be good about it. I won't promise, though, because then Leon'll get mad at me for an empty promise :P

Alright, I think that when the Guardians were respectively brought to the clinic after being freed from their monster form, Jones pretty says that they're fine. However comma, they also have their bodies fused with a monster that ends up taking a beating before they can rejoin human society. I find it hard to believe that they come out basically unscathed. So, you know…I brutally injured Leon. There will probably be references to the other three having grievous injuries when they get back to town, too. Should I feel guilty? Probably. However, they usually end staying in the clinic for a few days before they wake up, and that kind of thing points to injury…yet Leon walked away just fine when you see him with Venti. The verdict? He pushed himself to get to her and she healed him. And even if that's not what happened, that's what I'm going with. Apparently.

And because I'm unoriginal, I'm going to just call Latin the old tongue. Google translate Latin, at any rate. But I dunno, Descartes's philosophy "I think therefore I am" seemed appropriate in this case. So I went with it (it's secretly a bid to try and look really smart…don't tell Kiel, or everyone will know XD)

So, you know, I hope you enjoyed (and I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations, Halcyon), and I'll attempt to update soon.