Nice to see you all again!
I have completely reworked this fic—Chapter Three and Chapter Four are COMPLETELY NEW, chapter two has been integrated into the other chapters, and each chapter has been thoroughly edited. If you know Belliace's back story, go ahead and read this chapter. If you don't know what I'm talking about, go read the chapter three before coming back here.
Title: Season's Veil (04/??)
Rating: PG-13
Author: Windsong
Written: 24 March-10 April 2010
Word Count: 5,840 (17,739 in total)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama
Warnings: May cause sadness
Summary: A chain of events draws a group of adventurers into the middle of an ancient war, where the line between good and evil becomes blurred. The mysterious Veil seems to be the Key to their survival; but what is it, and can they save it before it's too late?
Disclaimer: Ragnarok Online belongs to Gravity. Kiran Sadhika & Jasmine belong to Hikarmine, Zephil Mardain belongs to Line. Everyone else is mine.
Author's Notes: May bells are also known as Lilies of the Valley—you can look them up on Wikipedia. "Greensleeves" is now more commonly known as the melody of "What Child is This." You can find clips of "Greensleeves" and "My Lagan Love" on YouTube, so go check them out.
Dear Jennie,
You'll never believe where I am now...
Cyrus chuckled at this, oblivious to the curious look Kiran gave him; his wife's last letter had scolded him for always beginning his letters this way. I'm near Geffen, in a place called Glast Heim. They say it used to be a powerful city, like Yuno, before monsters destroyed it. It's huge, and dark, and a wee bit scary...
The letter in his head trailed off as he peered upwards, trying to figure out where the high ceiling ended and the gloom began. He shivered a little. Glast Heim had a clammy coldness, and the weak torches on the walls only made the shadows darker. The world's so big and grand, and everywhere I look, there's something amazing. But I'm I'm glad you didn't come with me, he continued, this isn't a place for a sunny little girl like you.
So we're grandparents now, eh? Give a kiss to Lidda and her new baby boy for me. Tommy's a good name—Grandda would be so proud. How are the boys doing?
I'll send some presents along for everyone when we leave this place. I think you'll like what I'm getting you; it's almost as pretty as you are, bunny. Kiran didn't much like souvenir shopping, but she put up with it when he asked, smiling at the serious thought Cyrus put into each purchase. The last store they had visited was a dusty old magic shop, where the Bard had seen a spun-glass spray of tiny, bell-like white flowers with gilded edges. It had been too costly then, but after this dungeon run, he knew he'd have enough money to buy it for his wife.
- - -
Cyrus first met Jennie when he was sixteen and she was moving into the house next door, eighteen and alone. When he saw the sun glint off of her chestnut hair, his heart began to pound. He sprinted outside and offered to help her move her small pile of belongings; "No need," she replied curtly before walking inside.
"Pretty girl," his mother said to Cyrus after dinner. "She by herself?" He nodded wordlessly, still trying to organize his thoughts. "Here," his mother said then, pushing the pot of food across the table to him, a knowing look in her eye. "Take this over. Young girl like her needs to eat."
He rushed next door with this peace offering in hand. He knocked on the door timidly, and when it swung open, he met her stare with a shaky smile. "Hello, um, good evening," he stammered, "I'm Cyrus, I met you earlier..." then he remembered what he was there for, and held out the food. "Here, this is from—my mother, we thought you'd like something...to eat...?" The girl looked nonplussed, and he kicked himself for not practicing his lines first.
"It's all right," she said.
"My mother's an excellent cook," he pressed. "Please, take it."
She looked at him for a moment more, Cyrus trying not to blink. Her eyes were dark blue, like twilight. Then, she took the pot, murmuring a "Thank you" as she closed the door.
He practically danced up to his room, feeling giddy, barely able to sleep. It wasn't until the next day that he realized he didn't even know her name.
It became a daily ritual for the two of them: Cyrus brought dinner to her house promptly at seven, and she left the washed cookware on his doorstep the next morning. The girl never said much, and eventually Cyrus stopped trying to make conversation, settling for trying not to smile at her like an idiot as he watched her hands take the tray from him. Finally, he gathered the courage to ask her name. Jennie, she said, and it ran through his head for the rest of the night like music.
"He has it bad, don't he?" his mother commented once, watching him hurry out the door with her dinner in hand.
"As bad as I had it for a certain young girl at his age," his father replied. She blushed, looking at her husband with affection.
- - -
"I saw Jennie at the restaurant yesterday," his sister said over breakfast a month later, and Cyrus tried not to jump at the sound of her name. "She's a serving wench there, just started."
"Really? It can get kind of rough there sometimes," his mother said, putting a plate of eggs down on the table. "I hope she'll be all right."
The next morning, Jennie opened her door and found Cyrus standing there, waiting. She blinked, and then gave him a little glare, which he returned with a querulous smile. "Yes?"
"I-I was wondering if I could walk you to work." He'd practiced this time, but it still came out half-questioning.
"No need," she said, striding past him. He followed her, nervous but determined.
"I thought you might appreciate the company. It's no bother for me at all, I work near you anyway, I thought maybe—"
She whirled to face him, and Cyrus just barely managed to stop before he ran into her. He forgot how to breathe as they stared at each other, their faces just inches apart. She was tall, for a woman; he'd never realized that they were the same height before.
"Do as you please," she finally muttered, turning away. Cyrus's face lit up with a smile as he trotted up to walk next to her, wanting to hum with joy, but not daring to; he didn't want to annoy her.
- - -
"Oy, Jennie! Yer boyfriend's here!" One of the barmaids screeched through the back door of the restaurant, and Cyrus bit his lip as the other girls hooted and catcalled. He'd tried to clean up some before he came back to pick her up after work, but his hair wouldn't lie flat and his clothing was still sort of sweaty. He shielded his eyes against the evening sun, trying not to fidget.
Jennie came out ten minutes later, by which time the other girls had gotten tired of heckling him and gone back inside. He expected her to say something, but she simply gave a cursory glance in his direction before heading home.
Cyrus had been gathering his courage all day, and halfway to her house he used it all in one quick rush: "What's your favorite flower?"
She looked at him, eyebrows slightly raised. "Why do you want to know?"
"Um...just curious?" She frowned at that. "I'm sorry? You don't have to tell me if you don't feel like it, I didn't mean to offend you or—" She had already stopped listening, and he hung his head, feeling like an fool. When they got to her house, she went inside without looking back.
By the next morning Cyrus had found enough bravery to stand outside her door again, determined to be more quiet this time. She came outside and shut the door before turning to face him; he held up a hand in greeting, trying not to look too hopeful, and her lips quirked slightly before she walked by him, the boy stifling a smile as he matched her pace.
They were silent for the next few days, Cyrus happily admiring the way the world looked brighter as Jennie passed through it. After a week, the girl stopped on her porch.
"May bells," she said.
Cyrus blinked; "What?"
"My favorite flower. May bells." She vanished inside.
Cyrus was stunned for a moment, his mouth hanging open. Then a grin broke out across his face. "Yes!" He did a little jig as he went home, cheering and singing, not knowing that Jennie was leaning on her closed door, smiling slightly as she listened.
"Wait," Cyrus said a few days later, and Jennie stopped on her doorstep, looking at him as if he'd interrupted. "I, um, I was working and I happened to find these." He held out a tiny bouquet. It was a lie; may bells were almost out of season, and he had searched for three days until he saw some blooming on a high cliff face. He'd nearly broken his neck gathering these few precious flowers, and had been hard-pressed to explain to his boss why he was a half-hour late from his noon break.
Jennie stared at his gift, then up at his smiling face, then down again. Reaching out, she lifted the blossoms from his hands, the brush of her fingertips making him feel hot, then cold. The girl blew a puff of air, making the may bells wave gently. "Working, huh," she said. "What do you do, anyway?"
He was so shocked for a moment that he didn't answer, but when she started to look impatient, words tumbled from his mouth. "Oh! Um, I'm a—well, I do all sorts of things, I help out at the juice shop, I chop wood, I help the hunters set traps..." He trailed off, but she was still looking at him with somber interest. "Actually...I want to be a Bard some day," he said, and then looked at her nervously. He'd never told anyone that before.
"A Bard. Really?" she said, her eyes brightening a little.
"Yeah," he said. "Have you ever heard of Aleric the Great?" She shook her head. "He's fantastic, he's performed all over the world. He came to Payon once to play for the Emperor. I was working at the inn back then, and I was lighting the fire in his room, humming, when he came back early. I was so shocked! I apologized and I was ready to run out the door, but then he said, 'No, stay a minute.' He asked me to sing him something." She was looking down at the flowers, and Cyrus stopped.
To his surprise, she looked up. "So? Did you?"
"Yeah...I did. I sang Greensleeves, but I was so nervous, my voice was shaking something awful. He thought it was good, though...well, actually, he said it wasn't terrible...anyway, then he goes, 'Have you ever thought about becoming a Bard?' And I said 'Yes,' and he said 'Keep at it.'" Cyrus's eyes were shining, but Jennie's expression didn't quite echo his excitement.
"That's all he said? 'Keep at it?'"
"Aleric the Great said 'Keep at it!' That's—it was the best moment of my life!" Cyrus protested, and she smiled a little.
"Do you still sing?" Jennie asked, the smile fading, and his brain started up again.
"Y-yeah...all the time, really."
"You'll have to show me sometime," she said, and that smile was there again, just faintly. When he didn't answer, her mouth quirked into a frown, and his eyes darted up from her lips. "Sorry, what?"
"I said, you should sing for me sometime. I'd like to hear it."
"You...you would?" She nodded, and Cyrus just stared; he would have been happy just to walk by her side each morning and evening for the rest of his life. "Oh, you...you..." Jennie gave a little sigh. "Um..." But she was already walking to her door. His shoulders slumped a little.
"I don't have work this Friday," she said, and he looked up again. She was standing with one hand on her open door; a dark hallway stretched out behind her. "Are you free?"
He had no idea why she was so patient: it must have taken thirty seconds or more before his voice worked again. "Yes, yes of course I am, definitely—"
"Good," she cut him off gently. "Maybe you can show me around Payon. I really haven't seen much of it."
He was sure he was dreaming.
"Good night, Cyrus," she said, smiling faintly at his poleaxed expression. "See you tomorrow. And...thank you for the flowers." Her door closed, and Cyrus was pretty sure he had a new best moment of his life.
That Friday, he took her out on their first date. A year later, they were married, with lilies of the valley in Jennie's bouquet.
- - -
So that's why he was here specifically, Cyrus told himself, in this dark and scary place; not just so that he could see the world, but so he could buy her that little sprig of may bells, something to make her smile through the cold, flowerless winters. He looked over at Kiran, wondering if he should share this story with her, only to find her in the middle of a rather heated argument.
"You didn't tell us he was only job level twelve," the Priest was saying with a glare.
"He's base level 72," Kiran retorted. "He's not useless."
"We wanted a Bard, not an Archer!"
"I'll keep him safe. Why are you complaining? You've got a Super Novice in the party, for goodness sake!"
A blue-eyed young man turned towards her at this. "I'll have you know, Madam, that I am not just any Super Novice! I am Zephil Mardain the fourth, eldest child of the most powerful and noble Mardain family!" He struck a heroic pose. "Traveling from Prontera to the ends of the earth, I spread goodwill to all, defending the weak and helping the poor—"
"He gave us lots of money," the Assassin interrupted, giving Kiran a wink.
"Ah."
"The audacity!" Zephil cried.
"Are you really a noble?" Cyrus asked him, his eyes round.
Zephil gave a deep laugh, tossing his long white ponytail haughtily over his shoulder. "Why yes, of course! Certainly you have heard of the Mardains, good sir?"
"No, never."
"What! And you call yourself a Bard? What a travesty! Come here, and I will tell you of my family's great and daring exploits throughout Prontera's history..."
Kiran snorted as Zephil took the willing Bard aside. "How old is he, eighteen?"
"How old is your Archer, fifty?" retorted the Wizard, crossing her arms.
"Forty-five," the Knight corrected with a sigh. "Cyrus won't be a bother, don't worry. He's not as bad as you think."
"I'll believe that when I see it," the Priest grumbled.
"We're here," the Assassin interrupted again, sounding a little impatient now. "Pay attention."
"Where is 'here?'" Kiran asked.
"The caves underneath Glast Heim. Not a lot of people come back this far. You can make some good money here." She turned to Zephil and barked, "Hey! You! Shut up."
"Madam! When you speak to a Mardain, you should speak with respect—"
"You wanna die?" the Wizard snapped. "No? Then shut up."
Cyrus returned to the Knight's side, scratching Jasmine's feathered shoulder. The party's attention turned outwards as they crept along stealthily, scanning the walls for any signs of movement. As the time wore on, the Bard became more and more nervous, jumping at the tiniest sounds.
"Hey, relax," Kiran whispered, making him jump. "You're going to do fine." He gave her a quavery smile, his knuckles white where they gripped his bow.
The Priest, leading the way, suddenly stopped and held up a hand; "Hey, look at this." He pointed at the floor. Unlike other parts of the cave, the ground in front of them sunk sharply, claw and scorch marks plainly visible.
"Weird," the Wizard breathed, sliding down into the crater and bending down to brush her fingers against the rough-hewn stone.
"Something was digging here," the Priest said. "This is pretty deep. How long do you think they've been doing this?"
By now, the rest of the party was also looking around. Kiran pointed out the dents also scattered across the surface. "Lots of Hammerfalls." Upon closer inspection, the depression was covered in a lacy cobweb of cracks. "Majoruros are around here, right?"
"The monsters?" the Priest asked, incredulous. "That doesn't make sense."
"Maybe they're looking for something?" The Wizard picked up some soot on a finger and examined it. "Some of these spell signatures are really old—they've completely worn away, that takes at least a hundred years—but some are really new." She looked up, confused. "There aren't any MVPs down here, right? These look like...all sorts of stuff; Meteor Storm and Heaven's Drive and general elemental property attacks, too."
The Assassin added, "There are Sonic Blows over here."
"Glast Heim fell to the monsters hundreds of years ago," Cyrus commented. "Could this be some of the battle remains?"
The Priest shook his head. "I've never seen anything like this, and I've seen every part of Glast Heim there is. The amount of damage in this one small area is pretty incredible. This area would have held no strategic importance; old scrolls say that this place used to be used for secret religious ceremonies, but really, there's nothing down here but tunnels."
"Monsters would have gotten here last," Kiran commented. "Maybe this was a 'final stand?'"
"We are in the direct center of the caves," the Priest said, rubbing his chin. "That might make sense."
Suddenly, there was a clattering sound, and everyone looked up. Zephil yelped and ducked as an arrow whizzed over his head.
"There!" the Assassin shouted, vanishing. A Majoruros and four Gargoyles roared and screamed as great spikes tore through the ground around them, then leaped into the pit to attack the party.
"Stay back," Kiran ordered. "And aim carefully. Hah!" Urging her mount forward, she and Jasmine charged forward to plunge her Lance into one Gargoyle's arm. It let loose an unearthly scream, the bow clattering out of its hands, and hurled an arrow point-blank at her face.
"No!" Cyrus shouted, but Jasmine had spun, Kiran ripping the lance out of its arm with the same movement, and its arrow sliced past her cheek to leave a thin, bloody line. "Come on, I've got to do something—" He fumbled with water and earth arrows before bringing his bow to bear. The mounted Knight screamed "Pierce!" as she completed her turn, and slammed her lance through the Gargoyle's chest with her backswing. Its eyes bulged, its clawed fingers scrabbling against the wooden shaft as Kiran stared it fearlessly in the eye; then a Majoruros's hammer slammed into her side. With a choked cry, the Knight was flung out of her saddle, the bull-like creature raising its weapon for a Hammerfall.
"Oh Gods—Double Strafe!" The two water arrows struck the Majoruros in the back, and it roared, throwing its head up. As it turned to the Bard, it was thrown back with a "Jupitel Thunder!", lightning bolts dancing wildly across its hide. Cyrus was dazzled by the brilliant attack, and his next shots went wild; when he looked again, Kiran was tearing her lance from the dead Gargoyle's body. The other Gargoyles began to swarm around her, but like an avenging angel Jasmine leaped over their heads and stood over her master, screeching, kicking and whirling, keeping all of them at bay with her sharp beak and sharper talons.
"Heal," the Priest muttered, his hands outstretched towards Kiran. She glowed with holy energy as she struggled to remount her fighting Pecopeco.
"Once more into the fray!" Zephil shouted, swinging wildly at the Majoruros's arm; it turned to him with a low growl, but before it could strike him, the Super Novice was picked up and flung backwards by an invisible force. "Hey!"
The Assassin flickered into existence for a moment; "Back us up," she ordered, then vanished again, sending a column of spikes roaring out of the ground towards the monsters. The three remaining Gargoyles leapt aside, but the Majoruros was less lucky, pinned in place with stakes through his legs. Another "Jupitel Thunder!" hurled it into the wall with a resounding crack, but it still tried to rise.
The Pecopeco's shrieks became frantic as a Gargoyle dove past her, teeth sinking into Kiran's thigh. As the Knight screamed and punched the monster with an armored fist, Cyrus cried out "Double Strafe!" and his earth arrows thudded through the Gargoyle's neck.
"Fire Bolt!" came another shout.
"Oh God," Kiran muttered, diving away from the Gargoyle as, with a grandiose wave, the Super Novice sent flames raining down upon its head, quickly burning it to a crisp. The other Gargoyles drew back from the flames, and the Knight took advantage of this by remounting her Pecopeco and pulling back towards Cyrus, her eyes scanning the battlefield. "You doing all right?" Cyrus shouted over the din of battle.
A shadow fell over the Wizard; by the time she looked up, the Majoruros was bringing its hammer down towards her unprotected head. As she cringed back, screaming, the hammer thudded hard into the ground just inches to her right, making the ground tremble. "L-Lucky," she gasped, eyes wide.
The Assassin materialized in front of the Wizard, whispering "Sonic Blow." Her Jurs flashed madly, the monster screaming and flailing as slice after slice ripped through its armor and skin. The Gargoyles began to fire upon her, and she grunted as arrows appeared in her arms and legs, dropping to one knee before she disappeared. "Come here so I can heal you," the Priest called to the empty air, biting his lip as his eyes flickered from one party member to the next, healing and buffing as fast as he could.
The Majoruros lunged at the Wizard, who put up a hasty "Safety Wall!"
The Priest had finished healing the Assassin, who cloaked again. Kiran had begun running to the Wizard's aid, but she was quite far. The sorceress glared at the monsters as they all attacked her magical barrier, lighting coiling around her palms.
"I'll teach you to fear a Mardain's wrath!" Zephil shouted. "Fire Bolt!"
"Lord of Vermilion!"
The two attacks combined into a pillar of blinding white as they struck the monsters, then blew threw them, slamming into the floor with a deafening roar that tore the ground in half and made the earth tremble underneath their feet. Cyrus fell to his knees as Jasmine shrieked, but it was only getting worse; the earth was shaking and shaking, the crack racing through the floor in every direction.
"What—what's happening?!" The Wizard screamed, struggling to keep her footing.
"Run!" The Priest screamed with all his strength—the Assassin reappeared behind the shell-shocked Wizard, picking her up and running pell-mell towards the end of the hallway—"Get on!" Kiran screamed, and Cyrus scrabbled furiously against her saddlebags, trying to pull himself up as the Pecopeco reared and bucked—Zephil crushed a Butterfly Wing in his hand and disappeared. There was a sickly green-gray fog hissing through the fractures in the floor, making Kiran cough as her eyes teared up.
Cyrus was gasping with terror, his sweat-slicked fingers slipping on Jasmine's saddle. "Kiran, just go!"
"No, damnit, I'm not leaving you!" She grabbed him and pulled him up with a strength that made Cyrus feel like his shoulders were being torn out of their sockets—and then the world ended. The ground shook itself apart, and Cyrus and Kiran fell screaming into the darkness, the Pecopeco flapping its wings uselessly as they plummeted through the floor. Cyrus could barely feel Kiran's fingers crushing his wrists, the two of them twisting and kicking as they tumbled forever, one minute, two minutes, three; wind rushed past his body, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he was going to die, we're going to die, oh God, we're going to die, please no pleasepleaseplease—
They slammed into the floor, the Pecopeco landing next to them with a pathetic squeak, and everything went dark.
Then Kiran's eyes opened, the air shrieking in her throat as she gasped it into her lungs. Cyrus, beside her, was moaning like an animal, low and endless, too beaten to even move; Jasmine had awakened before her, trying to stand, screaming and screaming, refusing to give up even with both wings broken. The Knight struggled to sit up, but several of her ribs were shattered, her leg bones snapped. Her heart pounded madly in her ears, she was alive, they were alive, and she tried to figure out where they were, how to get out; they seemed to be in another hallway, the air thick with a green-gray smoke that glowed faintly.
She tried to move, and for a dizzying moment her existence narrowed to nothing but pain; but she pushed through it, drawing on reserves of strength she didn't know she had. Their packs, she had to get to their packs—
Her hand fell upon the scratched leather like a miracle. She opened the saddlebag to find everything destroyed; the potion bottles were shattered, their contents pouring out everywhere, and the Butterfly Wings had disintegrated into nothing. She sobbed, nearly fainting from the pain, and dragged herself forward to lap at the mixed potions pooling on the floor, gagging on grit and slime. Minutes passed as she struggled to breathe, to drink, to breathe; then she felt the effects—a little at first, then more, the healing mixing with the adrenaline in her veins to give her just enough strength to sit up, every muscle trembling with the effort.
"Jasmine," she called, and she didn't recognize her own voice, but her beloved Pecopeco limped towards her nonetheless. "Come on," she coaxed, and the bird balked at first, swaying on her feet, before dropping to the floor and pushing its face into the puddle, gulping greedily. Eventually it lifted its head, beak dripping, then looked at the Knight.
"We have," Kiran coughed, the pain in her chest bringing tears to her eyes, "We have to get out of here."
Cyrus's wails had ceased, but his body was still shuddering with pain. She crawled over to him, her Pecopeco trailing behind. His injuries were far worse than hers had been; there was no way he was getting up. She looked at the puddle and bit her lip. There was barely any potion left.
Jasmine and her Knight, working together, managed to get the Bard onto the Pecopeco's back. Then, Kiran painfully joined him, flinging herself over the ruined saddle first before righting herself. "Stand," she said, as if Jasmine was still in training at the Izlude Academy, and the Pecopeco managed to get shakily to her feet.
Right or left? "Right," she called out, her voice barely a whisper. They began to move, barely faster than a shuffle, Cyrus's cries tearing at her heart every time Jasmine stumbled. God—please—guide us, she begged, wishing for a cross she didn't carry, a shield she didn't bear.
- - -
Cyrus was so overwhelmed by pain that he just couldn't process it anymore. He felt like he was floating in his head, somewhere far away from his body. The sunny glades and rolling hills of Payon seemed very distant now, separated from him by more than just distance—lifetimes and worlds apart. Maybe this was all a dream, and he was going to wake up any minute now, ready to start the day in Geffen with Kiran, and maybe visit Glast Heim, that place he'd only heard about.
Was this what dying felt like? He didn't see any tunnel with a light at the end, or hear any strains of heavenly music. All those tales wouldn't be wrong, would they?
But he couldn't die, not now. Jennie—Lidda—Tommy, whom he hadn't even met yet. He still had so much to see, so much more to do. He hadn't bought the may bells. He had learned a new folk song that he wanted to sing his darling wife, the perfect song for her, called "My Lagan Love."
When Lagan stream sings lullaby, there blows a lily fair...
- - -
Kiran lost track of time as Jasmine limped onwards, drifting into a numb, unthinking haze. Hours later, she abruptly came back to herself when Cyrus began to mumble; after a moment, she recognized it as wordless singing, a warped melody dragged from a broken throat. A Bard to the last.... Her eyes welled with tears, and she poured her frustration into Jasmine, hugging the bird's neck desperately; "Come on, girl, faster, we can make it, come on."
But suddenly Kiran had other things to worry about.
A twilight gleam is in her eye; the night is on her hair...
There was the sound of an explosion from behind her, and Jasmine stopped. Kiran looked behind them, but couldn't see anything through the green-gray fog.
Then there was a rushing sound, a whispering, a clicking, growing louder by the minute.
Now there were footsteps...and there were a lot of them.
"Jasmine, run," She said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. The Pecopeco lurched forward in double-time, her eyes round with fear.
Whatever was coming, it was bad.
And like a love-sick lennan-shee, she hath my heart in thrall...
It was even louder now, a cacophony of sound—now there were shrieks, too, high peals of unearthly laughter, the roars of a thousand nightmarish creatures. Monsters were coming behind them, now she was sure of it, they had followed them down the hole into this place. They were quicker, they were stronger, and were too many of them. Jasmine was almost running now, despite her injuries, squawking softly now and again. Kiran bent low over her neck, not having the strength to do anything else.
No life I owe, nor liberty...
They were right behind them now, and Kiran looked back, only to feel sickening fear surge up into her throat. There was a Dark Lord behind them now, four of them—or were some of those Dark Illusions?—whatever they were, they were floating down the hall behind them and gaining ground fast. Behind the swirling capes of the Dark Lords, she could see thousands of other monsters.
"Oh God," Kiran sobbed. This time, it was the end. It was really the end. Cyrus was dying, there were MVPs behind them, and they were going to die in the green-gray dark deep underneath Glast Heim.
"Help me," she whispered, burying her face in Jasmine's feathers. Her Pecopeco continued to race along as fast as she could, gaining speed as the scent of the monsters grew thick in the air. "Help me, oh God, help, I don't—I can't—please—"
For love...is lord of all.
There were doors ahead of them, thrown wide open and carved with runes, and beyond them, the weird light brightened. Jasmine dashed inside before skidding to a stop, screeching. The room they had come into was so huge that it felt like they were suspended in space. They were on a narrow balcony that ringed the room, saved from falling only by the flimsy railing that Jasmine slammed into. The room stretched down and up for miles, and in the center floated a crystal more gigantic than Kiran could have ever imagined. It was larger than Prontera Castle, even larger than Geffen Tower, and every inch of its surface was covered in the same runes that covered the entrance outside. It glowed a soft green-gray that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
Jasmine regained her footing and fled from the doors just as Dark Lord burst through them. Kiran clutched at the reins, trying to keep her seat, and Cyrus's head thumped against the saddle rhythmically. Dark Lord reached out towards them, and a magical seal appeared under their feet. "No!" Kiran screamed, kicking her Pecopeco, but they couldn't escape the blast zone in time; meteors roared out of the sky around them, heating the air like fire in her lungs. One exploded right beside them, and a huge chunk of the balcony ripped away, fragments the size of boulders flying everywhere. One struck Jasmine in the head and knocked her unconscious, tripping and slamming face-first into the stone floor before flipping over, and Kiran, clutching her mount, was pinned underneath, but Cyrus—
Cyrus, his body limp, was flung from Jasmine into the air—just beyond Kiran's outstretched hands—and over the railing.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Kiran screamed with every fiber of her being as Cyrus vanished from sight, plunging into the endless pit. "NO, NO!" She shrieked until her throat was raw, beating her Pecopeco ruthlessly, trying to revive her, she had to save him somehow, she swore she would protect him—this couldn't—he couldn't—"NOOO!"
The Dark Lords were still advancing; another meteor slammed into the ground, hurling Jasmine and Kiran into the air. At the peak of their flight, the MVP whipped his hand out, striking them with brutal force. Kiran's eyes dilated with pain, just barely hanging onto the edge of consciousness as they, too, flew over the railing, out and out across the expanse—
And slammed into the Crystal to skid across the flat plane, the girl's skin tearing, her blood spilling across the glowing surface. It pooled around her as she took one last, shuddering breath.
But the crystal began to shimmer, the runes all along its surface lighting up, starting from Kiran and rippling outwards. The room was suddenly filled with an unearthly hum that made the air vibrate, and the monsters began to roar, backing against the walls as they bared their teeth.
Just before Kiran slipped away, she was flung back into her body with the most powerful surge of healing she had ever felt. Her eyes snapped open, gasping for air as her back arched; she was overwhelmed with energy, and she dissolved into it.
- - -
"Don't you ever feel lonely, Sister?" she asked her companion.
"Acha, call me Acha!" The Acolyte smiled. "And why would I? Everyone's with me always, everywhere I go."
Kiran looked around. They were completely alone, the field stretching out forever around them. "There's nobody here besides me."
"Not just you! Everyone." She smiled dreamily, clasping her hands over her heart. "Right here. Everyone in the whole world, I feel them right here. Don't you feel it too?"
- - -
Kiran's bruised lips formed a single word: Acha?
"Kiran?" Archana whispered from miles away, clutching at her chest as her eyes widened. Belliace blinked, feeling weak for a moment, but it quickly passed. "Ki—?" Acha gasped before her knees buckled, falling bonelessly into Lierne's arms. As he lay her on the ground, the Crusader patted her face, trying to revive her, but the Priestess was gone.
Kiran and Jasmine's bodies were wreathed in light, floating slightly above the surface of the crystal as a portal opened up below them. As the girl's eyes closed, they flashed brilliantly and disappeared.
AHAHAH, I FINALLY FINISHED THIS FREAKING CHAPTER. WOOOOOOOOOO! If you liked this chapter, do leave a review--the only reason this got written is because Line asked for it.
See you again!
-Windsong
"This chaos, this calamity / This garden once was perfect / Give your immortality to me / I'll set you up against the stars" -Wine Red, The Hush Sound