Chapter 2: Awakening
Camus and Hyoga both felt Anya's cosmos die and raced towards the center of the city, now freed from its icy prison. Milo did the same, albeit more slowly; the cold was sapping his strength. As soon as the Aquarius Saint got within 200 feet of the three motionless bodies, he skidded to a halt, putting a hand to his head. His entire body and soul were vibrating in resonance, and he felt a trance overcome him. Hyoga was hot on his heels, calling to him.
"Camus-sensei! What's wrong?" The young man reached his teacher, grabbing his shoulder, but Camus didn't respond. Hyoga saw the older Saint's eyes glazed over as he began walking towards the larger of the bodies. The blonde knew something was wrong but didn't know how to snap his teacher out of whatever was controlling him, so he fled to Anya's side. He turned her over to find blood leaking out of her mouth and nose. "Oh gods…Anya…" He felt Milo kneel beside him. "Milo…what should we do?"
Milo threw off his cloak, adrenaline giving him extra focus and warmth. "I know something of the circulation system," he murmured to Hyoga, deepening his cosmos. A light golden glow surrounded him, then slowly moved to envelop Anya. "She's bleeding internally," the Scorpio Saint told his companion. "She has increased internal pressure somewhere."
"How do we stop it?"
"Two ways: I will use my Scarlet Needle to activate her meridians. You need to lower her body temperature." Hyoga didn't understand the first part, but he understood the second. He used Diamond Dust to lightly cool her body while Milo slimmed and sharpened his Scarlet Needles until they were hair-thin; the Scorpio Saint then directed all 14 into her body at precise points, activating the vital energies that would stem her excess blood flow.
Camus, on the other hand, knelt by Dègel's side. It was incredibly strange to see the green-haired man in the flesh; this had been his own soul's body 200 years ago. His body. He placed a hand on the ancient Saint's chest and relaxed his muscles, acting as a conduit for the soul encased in the Aquarius Cloth. Camus suddenly glowed with electric blue light and spasmed once, catching himself from falling forward with his free hand; then, it was done. He shuddered. I never want to do that again. That was a horrible, unnerving experience. Dègel, however, did not awaken; Camus realized that the man's body had been encased in ice for over 200 years and likely needed to acclimate. The turquoise-haired Saint used his cosmos to slowly warm his incarnation, anxiety running through his veins like blood.
Milo had turned to Seraphina's body after taking care of Anya; the younger woman had stopped bleeding and was in no further danger; the violet-haired man took off his Saint's cape and covered Seraphina's body respectfully with it, then threw the cloak back around his shoulders. Hyoga, meanwhile, helped Anya to sit up and warmed her as best as he could. All three of the Saints turned to hear a groan of pain and stared at the scene before them: the two Aquarius Saints, side by side, easily mistaken for fraternal twin brothers. While Camus' hair was a deep turquoise, like the afternoon sky, Dègel's was a soft seafoam green, like streaming water. Their features, however, were near-identical.
As Dègel was helped to sit up by his reincarnation, he was greeted by a sight he never thought to see again—Seraphina in the flesh. His eyes widened for a moment. "Ser…a…phina?" he asked, voice raspy with disuse. The two Aquarius Saints even spoke with a similar voice and accent, though Dègel's voice was slightly higher and lighter in tone. Anya met his gaze with sad grey eyes, shaking her head negatively, and he blinked a moment. "No…Anya." She nodded in confirmation. "I had…forgotten…how…alike…you are," the green-haired Saint smiled gently. Camus felt his soul tingling in response to Dègel; it was a very odd feeling. "I…had hoped…that she would…return…to life…with me. Where…where is…Seraphina?"
"Her body rests over there, Dègel," Milo told him, pointing to the white cloth-covered form. The older man closed his eyes, brow furrowed in grief. Camus understood his pain; not only did they share a soul, but both had lost the one they loved. Fortunately for him, Anya had been able to return from the Underworld thanks to the grace of Athena.
"The burial will have to take place later. For now…we must get inside. Milo is catching cold, and Anya will shortly," Dègel instructed them, his voice growing ever stronger. "We should go." Camus helped him to his feet, supporting the other man with an arm under his shoulders; Hyoga did the same for Anya, while Milo followed behind. The green-haired Saint explored the various buildings that he vaguely remembered, quickly encountering a small home where an elderly couple lived. The woman began clucking reproachfully as the five people entered. She, of course, spoke Russian, and Milo sighed.
"One of these days, take me to a place where they speak Greek please," he muttered.
"I speak perfect Greek, young man," the woman glared at him, slightly annoyed. "I served in Sanctuary as a girl. I know who you are, more or less. I don't know this young man—" she indicated Dègel—" or this young lady, but I know you, Saint of Scorpio. And I know you two by reputation, Cygnus Hyoga and Aquarius Camus." The elderly man stirred a large pot over a warm fire, and Milo promptly went to sit near it. "I'll get more hearthstones. This one is getting a fever," the matron pointed to Anya, who was indeed showing increasing signs of illness. "Please, lay her down here near the fire." Hyoga did as he was instructed, and the woman began caring for the girl.
"It isn't much, but this we offer you in token of gratitude." The man spooned some of the warm soup into bowls for the Saints. "Thank you for freeing our city. We noticed the giant pillar of ice has disappeared. You must have had something to do with that."
"What has been going on in the city for the past year?" Dègel asked him.
"Well…most of the population has left; I'd say there's only about 50 of us still here. We've been living off whatever the land gives us, and trading with neighboring lands when we can. It's a little hard to trade though when most of what you have is all ice." He gave a barking laugh and continued. "We stay because the Pope commanded us to."
"The Pope?" Camus asked, a bit startled. He hid his reaction with easy practice, however.
"Yes, Pope Shion, the former Aries Saint. He told us that he had read the stars, and that he foresaw a return to Spring for Bluegaard. He spoke of three Gold Saints who would return the sun to us, and a gentle lady who would make things grow again." The man squinted at the party. "I only see two Gold Saints here…I guess you're not the ones, then." Dègel blinked but didn't say anything. "But we stay here in case of the Pope's prophecy. Some people left in spite of it, because it's been hard…really hard…but we are a strong people, we of Bluegaard. Even the Blue Warriors are dead and gone; there isn't anyone left to train the next generation."
A snore announced that Milo had fallen asleep; Hyoga found himself nodding off as well. "We only have one spare bed, I'm afraid," the woman told the remaining Saints.
"Hyoga can have it," Camus answered her.
"Hermann, please stock the fire so that this young man and his brother can sleep out here," she asked the ancient man, causing Camus and Dègel to blink and exchange confused glances. Brother? The old man began putting on a heavy coat and headed out towards the back of the home. "You can take off your armor, young Aquarius, if it makes you more comfortable."
"I am fine."
"Suit yourself," she shrugged, cleaning up the bowls. As late night fell, both Dègel and Hyoga succumbed to slumber; Camus stayed up, watching Anya sleep fitfully. Her cheeks were flushed with fever, and periodically the turquoise-haired Saint took the cloth from her forehead to cool it down again with his cosmos.
"You don't have to worry about her; she will be fine—her fever will break in the morning," a voice said softly from the shadows. Camus looked up wearily to find the old woman standing before him with a blanket.
"Why would I be worried about her?" he responded coolly.
"Tch. It's in your eyes, boy. You love her," the woman answered matter-of-factly. Camus initially bristled with anger at being called 'boy', then froze at the rest of what she had said. For a split second, his icy mask dropped, and his eyes softened. Then the mask was back, and he shrugged.
"I care for my fellow Saints. That is all." The woman gave him a wise look and turned back to return to her bedroom, leaving the blanket next to Camus. He is not as frozen as he wants people to think.