Edit: 6/5/12
A/N-II: I don't know if I did the right thing or not by re-uploading this, but I can definitely say I feel so much better with this than the Chapter 2 I had previously posted. I hope you aren't too mad if you end up liking the previous version better, but I simply could not move on with the way it was. Besides, I think I have more to work with than before, so that's a plus for me.
Chapter 2: Secret in Flames
Canadia found himself there once again, in the middle of the now fully healed clearing. The sky was pure crystal, his surroundings lush with vivid green colors; dotted with pinks, purples, oranges, blues, whites of flora. The scars had run deep for a long while here, but Canadia had fulfilled his promise to aid and rejuvenate the land, restoring it to its former beauty. It had been a long and arduous task, but since he had been the sole being to care for this land, he had been rewarded. The land was now his.
A soft smile split across his face. He caressed the rough bark of a tree beneath his hand and felt the blades of grass bursting from between his toes. The ethereal scent of this field was fresh, inviting. The clean breeze was crisp and gentle; this place was a perfect substitute for his favorite clearing down on Earth.
He looked around, and while it was not an exact replica of that place in his land, he loved it just as much. It felt as much a part of him as his limbs. He breathed in deeply. He was content. And when he closed his eyes as to better feel this peaceful energy, he realized that had been a mistake. He let out a long, shuddering exhale.
It had allowed a vision of white and black and grey to invade his mind's eye once again. When he opened his eyes the white was gone, and along with it his memory of a new, perhaps undeserving, life.
He made himself walk into the forest and out of that clearing; there was suddenly too much life. Or was it not enough? After all this time, he thought he would have moved on. Too much time had passed but of course not enough of it had either.
In the Realms in which the gods and celestial beings resided, time was of very little importance. So these beings – beings of hope and prosperity, power and destruction – simply resided in the flow of their lives with no concept of day or night, no thought to a second or hour, with no impression of how precious such a thing was to a human, and yet…
And yet Canadia had found himself following the time of humans. He found himself counting down the hours and seconds. He found himself counting off the days and nights. He found himself counting down every single moment almost obsessively, as if his life depended on it. Four centuries. It had been Four long centuries since then. And now that he had a self-justified reason for following Time, he could now understand why they fretted so much over 'lost time' or 'too much time' or 'not enough time'.
In the beginning of that long time, he had found himself constantly crossing the bridge that connected to all the Realms; all but for that deep, dark underground. He had often found himself wandering back to the still then purifying land, wandering back into that cursed, slowly healing clearing in which he wandered now; now, beautiful and full of life. He had often stood in that very specific place, which had healed much quicker than its surroundings due to his presence, and he had waited. He still did. But what was he waiting for? Why was he waiting at all? It was a lost cause, his – hope? Was that what he was feeling? Is this what she truly felt like?
But then why would Hope feel so empty and cold, as if a part of him had been misplaced and was now missing?
To this day, he still could not understand his desire to see that demon again; that demon he should have let die or finished off like he had initially intended. Maybe he wanted to see if it was all right, despite fully well knowing that it was alive somewhere. Maybe he wanted to satisfy some strange desire of his that he was not aware of. Because if he was not growing steadily mad, if he did not have fleeting thoughts of performing some sort of act of rebellion against all he had ever known, then he certainly would not have done what he had.
But the more time passed the more he grew anxious and restless. Anxious, and maybe even scared, because what was going to happen to him? He hid it well (despite there being no one to see or notice), his unease and uncertainty. For a while he had been left to wonder when he would give himself away or when someone would find out what he had done; something shameful and near treasonous. Blasphemy, even! And despite knowing the severity of his actions, he had a vague understanding of what the repercussions could or would be, though he at least knew he would surely be punished.
As a pure and righteous being he had not necessarily felt what Hatred was like himself. Canadia had felt his essence in others; in his humans and of course in those demons, but he had not been able to guess that this was what raw and unadulterated Hatred felt like. Hatred was the guilt that strangled his throat and made him choke. Hatred was the shame suffocating him when he realized he had wandered into the field once again. Hate was the fear clouding his judgment and the nausea twisting his stomach.
Hate was that burning fire he felt for himself.
Canadia, just as everyone else is, or was, or had been, was always a good son and an excellent warrior. He loved the Father he had never seen, or met, or heard. He loved the imperfect children He had created. He loved his land and the human's that resided within, the ones he was born for. And now…
Now… what?
What could he do now that he was beginning to fall without realizing it was happening?
He felt it first as a prickling in his right arm, drawing him gently out of his foolish daze. With a frown, Canadia stroked the length of his arm from wrist to shoulder, thinking it was merely due to his immobile state, even though it had never happened before. But then there was a sudden, sharp pain that started in his shoulder, and was then dragged slowly down to his wrist as if he had been stabbed by a knife and it was being cruelly slashed through him to the bone.
Canadia cried in his throat, clutching at his arm desperately. Then, with a small outcry, he sank to his knees, bowing forward and cradling his arm in a vain attempt to make the pain more bearable. A flare of agony shot through his arm, consuming it in fire, causing bursts of white-hot pain to bloom behind the darkness of his tightly shut, inhuman eyes. He dug his fingertips into his arm. He leaned forward on his knees, forehead buried into the grass and mouth wide open in a silent scream.
With his body shuddering with every wave of pain that shot through him like lightning, he gasped deeply, unable to actually cry or scream due to the sheer intensity, and he forced himself to his knees again.
Why? Why was this happening so suddenly? What happened?
His heart thudded frantically in his chest, panicking and stuttering along with its host's pain. Taking deep, sharp breaths, Canadia struggled to his feet, one by one until he stood on violently quaking legs. Around him, the gorgeous greenery that had regrown over the last five-hundred years shivered with the painful energy emanating from his body in waves. And suddenly, with a heart-shattering scream that finally ripped itself from his throat and made the clearing grey sky tremble; he forced the pain back in order to concentrate on summoning his wings.
Two white orbs formed over his shoulder blades, and they could not materialize fast enough. He could feel his power and strength slipping, the white orbs of energy flickering and shrinking like a flame.
Just as he thought he would be consumed, flashes of red and orange and shadows flickered across his mind's eye. In his mind, there were echoes of humans screaming and crying, echoes of animals crying out in their own language; but be they human or beast, they were terrified; be they human or beast, they were all in danger. His people and his creatures were in danger and he would be damned if he just let himself be consumed and collapse and leave them to die.
With another scream, this time one of terrified determination, the energy materialized rapidly and his wings – wings thrice the length of his body – exploded out behind him, jerking his head back. The powerful agony seared through his arm again, but he bent his knees and took to the skies. The vast expanse of green and colors spread over hills and mountains sped by underneath him. He flew straight back to the Bridge that led him back here where he should not be. He beat his wings heavily, doing all he could to go faster, transforming his pain into strength and his desperation into will-power.
Finally the Bridge came into his sights and along with it were the impressive figures of dozens of Angels flying towards the Bridge just as swiftly as he.
With the burning pain searing through him, Canadia glided down and over one of the many paths that made up the Bridge; the Bridge that led to all Realms but for that deep, dark underground. He flew over that one path that would lead him to the Earthly Realm, that one path that would take him where he needed to go.
More images and echoes of his terrified and dying humans and animals flashed through his mind as he barreled through the vine-wrapped pearly gates, the Guardian Angels of the people caught in the unkown disaster that had struck following immediately behind him.
Through a human's eyes, they would have arrived from their Heavenly Realm into the Earthly Realm in the blink of an eye. But to get to his birth-land, Canadia must travel through this white, expansive void that stretched on endlessly on every side, now thick in what seemed to be dark clouds and mist.
He could feel when he was nearing the end. It felt uncomfortable, like a crushing weight threatening to pull him down and keep him from his destination. He caught sight of the door, shining with ominous red light, and he barreled right through.
xXx
The flames flickered and grew, feeding off the wood of trees and the shrubbery on the ground. Shadows darted all around him. Shadows fleeing for safety and shadows surrounded by fire moved frantically, leaving high pitched squealing as they passed him.
All of it; all of the thundering fire, the cracking of wood, and snapping of falling trees; it all was a mere echo in his ears. The pain he had felt was because of this, because of this disaster that had struck, destroying this part of his home, this part of him so cruelly.
He could hear his people screaming and yelling for each other, their loved ones. The pain spiked in his arm. Tears formed in his eyes and he bit back another scream. He knew he would not be able to help them in the state he was in. He hadto help them. He had to.
"Canadia!" His eyes snapped open. He whirled around to meet another of his kind land in the middle of the fire, breathing heavily and raising his head to meet his own wide-eyed stare with something akin to the terror he felt for his people. Because it was every Hetalian's living nightmare that a catastrophe such as this would befall their home, their land, and their people. At the pure sympathy in his brother's eyes, Canadia could not help but choke and let his tears fall.
"Brittania!" He sobbed, reaching his hand out to grab ahold of his brother's armored one.
"You have to Change, Brother!" Britannia yelled over the roaring of the flames and the screams and screeches of the terrified beings here. "We will help from our end!"
"But–!"
"Do not waste more time, now go!" With those words, Britannia shot up into the black sky where Canadia could see the vague outlines of silver and white wings flying about or shooting off to find the ones they had been assigned to protect. As they worked hard to bring about the clouds and the rain, Canadia stole himself. Seeing the disaster that had struck brought about an acceptance within him that caused the pain to numb and he concentrated only on delivering his own aid.
Silence. A deep breath. Calm. Hold. Strength. Long exhale. Summon it. You must. For them. Become powerful for them, save them. Your life.
When Canadia opened his eyes, they were glowing white. A shallow wind picked up at his feet, swirling around him and gradually rising until his hair fluttered around his shoulders. His armor disappeared, leaving him only in his robes that swirled and floated around him like mist.
Summon it. All of your power. Bring out the rain yourself, and bring it down hard. Protect them.
It was like falling asleep. It was unnecessary for them, but advised, and it was a pastime Canadia indulged himself in when he could. Gently, peace took hold of him, a certain tranquility that made him the eyes of the storm. All around him the beautiful sound of heavy rain pelted down to his earth, soothing and frantic and hurriedly. The flames were beaten into submission and sizzling out with delightful hisses. After what felt like a century, the flames were tame enough for him to let his power slip from his grasp, but not all at once lest he become greatly drained.
With a gasp, he let the last of it disappear from him, and he fell to his knees. Yet as he regained his bearings, as the world around him stopped spinning, in the last of the still furiously burning flames he saw red.
Intense, familiar, dangerous red.
A/N: As I said in the edited Chapter 1, thanks to those of you still interested and have thus been waiting patiently for this and sticking by it though I've only posted two chapters. Updates will be slow-going but I will not abandon this!
