A/N: Okay, I have been really busy over the last month, but things are finally starting to slow down enough just in time for the holidays. I have done a rewrite of this chapter and I am almost done with chapter 8. Most of the content remains the same but I removed wordy sections, fixed the tenses, and hopefully made things a little bit more clear on what is taking place. I really appreciate all the advice from everyone because that is what I really need. So again, Italics are character thoughts, and the page break is the shift of perspectives.


Rise and Shine, It's Time to Awake

If there is a heaven, it cannot be found here, and if there is a hell it cannot be worse than this island. Either way...I don't want to stay here any longer.

I take a half step back as the blade drives well into my lower abdomen. At first I didn't realize what had happened. One moment I see Clare, and in the next she vanishes. My head feels heavy and drops low to see the blood covered sword being held by a white knuckled and shaking hand. It is becoming really difficult to stand. And like the thunderous collapse of my home those many years ago, I too, fall to my knees.

I try to inhale, but all that I can muster is a blood soaked wheeze. It is a fight just to keep my eyes open as they feel as heavy as the burden I had placed on myself to find her. My arms, they won't move, they just rest lazily at my sides. I can't figure it out, not even a single finger, no matter how hard I try they just remain frozen.

A strange but familiar sensation grazes my right shoulder. My eyes are slow to move, I'm not sure if I can stay awake. I see a familiar bandage covered hand plant itself there upon my shoulder. These recognizable fingers hold a tight grip around me as if bracing themselves. Another, less intense, wave of pain flows from within me. It feels like an impossible feat to keep my head up and eyes open, and then they finally close.

Take me home, I just want to go home. I want to forget about who I was and what I've done. I can't change those things, but if I can get home then maybe everything will be better. I see the streets of Doga, the sun was just starting its ascent into the sky. I remember taking this walk everyday. Everyday I would head out to the market for the freshest ingredients. I loved the smell of the market, so many foods flooded the area with a wonderful aroma. A note of the sweetest fruits here and a hint of zesty spices escaping from their clay vessels. And near the end of the strip a fire glowed from the oven. This was my favorite part, the fresh bread. I loved to watch them carefully draw out the sheets carrying the hot rolls. And then that sweet smell, there is nothing else like it in all the market.

I always made sure to stop by at the same time everyday to grab two hot rolls. I have thought about it many times, and still I can't quite understand it, but every time I am here in this market, I felt more at peace with everything. Maybe it was the sense of warmth rising from the bread itself or maybe the brotherhood and community that is felt when people gather to share and eat. The reason weighed little, because most importantly there was no hate or violence here.

That place was unique, like nothing I have ever felt before. I could spend all day trying different recipes and learning the best techniques around. Because here there is no blood, there is no one trying to kill me or I them. All my hard work would be rewarded with the overwhelming satisfaction of my guests. Here I could feed people and show them something good.

Dreams, those were all fleeting fantasies that had long drifted away into endless malice and confusion. They were drowned by a storm of remorse and loneliness. It was cast aside by my one aim, my one calling that I dedicated myself to entirely. All these things I would've been and should've done, were recklessly tossed away by a false sense of hope, a pipe dream. That is all they are now, and that is all I could ever amount to. I could be nothing more than a cheap imitation of what should have been a great and honorable man.

I force my heavy eyes open again to see the rest of the enormous claymore being forced through the crevice in my chest. It is strange, it doesn't hurt anymore. I try to laugh in disbelief about my predicament, but all that left my lips was a drooling mix of saliva and blood.

A sharp jolt rocks me, like an uncontrollable spasm, I feel my entire frame contort. The sword is now twisted and screwed, my innards feel like they are churning into a pulpy mess. It is nearly a full rotation before the blade stops turning. I am glad it stopped, now I can finally rest.

My blood is beginning to pool around me as I stare at these bended knees below me. The many cracks that line the stoned paved streets become small red canals carrying my blood. And suddenly two more knees crash to the ground before me. They are quivering, from what, I can't decide. I need to know, but I can't raise this heavy head of mine. If I can just look up, then maybe I can do something to help these shaking knees. Another very dull sensation slides and then fades away from my cheeks. I can barely see the edges of those bandage covered hands cupping my chin.

I light up with joy, looking at those eyes only inches away from my own. I've seen them before, but never this sad, never this broken and abandoned, never welled up with so many tears. Her chin quivers before her lips finally move, but nothing. I try to listen to her words, but I'm still unable to hear anything. It is very silent and I am becoming extremely tired. I just want to rest my head for a while, but every time I try Clare shakes me awake.

What have I done? She looks at me as if I have viciously stolen all the hope and happiness away from her. Her hands are warm...I can't see her face any more, it is becoming too dark. I can feel the wind rushing by as I try to stop myself from falling forward, but my arms won't catch me. I can now feel the fast and uneven rhythm of her heart against my face...


A rush of pure ecstasy coursed through Clare's veins as she looked at the dying face of her nemesis. The ugly one-horned monster coughed her life blood upon the Claymore's face. And in the same instance this great euphoria that flowed over her...vanished. The purple being before her was now gone, only replaced by a young and oddly familiar man.

It took her less than two seconds to piece together the face before her. The eyes, nose, and lips all matched, but the jaw was a little wider and the hair a little more kept and cared for. Still, with those aside it was unmistakable, she had done the unthinkable. Two seconds earlier and she could have stopped herself, two seconds earlier and she could have moved left or right and missed him. Two seconds earlier and she could've let go of her rage and changed everything. Two seconds and it could've been different, two seconds and everything would've still made sense. But two seconds was all it took to burn down the world.

Words tried to break free from her reprehensible lips but failed to even utter the first syllable. A second attempt was still low and shaking, but audible. "No." Clare's heart fell to the ground with her knees in front of the dying man. "no, no, no, no, no..." The words rattled off in a loose and fading trail as her wind pipe nearly closed.

Clare's grip on the blade retracted instantly as her hands raced up to cover her mouth. Her breathing took a complete turn, now racing at full speed. Hyperventilation was setting in. Consciousness began to waver, as her trembling knees thudded to the ground. Her eyes released a deluge of tears making it impossible to even see Raki. She knelt in silence with the one she loved so dearly.

A quick wipe of her palm pushed away the tears, but she immediately regretted it. Slumped and doubled over her sword was Raki, his head bobbed and swayed lazily as he tried to look up. Her heart twisted and torqued in strange directions. Seeing him struggle just to get one last glimpse, one last farewell was unbearable.

She slowly cupped his head with all the gentleness she could gather from her shaking and bloody hands. They were now face to face staring at each other. But despite everything she had done, despite the unthinkable act of cruelty and brutality she had violently executed upon him. Despite all of this, Clare didn't see it. She looked upon the wrecked and bleeding face before her and saw no trace of what she deserved.

Raki, with all that was left within him, simply smiled as best he could. It was the faintest of smiles, living only for a moment. There was no hate in his eyes or condemnation in his heart. He was happy, he was well enough off to see her one last time. And with no final words or strength left to live, he slumped forward resting gently against her chest.

Clare could feel the sweat slicked hair resting against her breast as Raki's body became lifelessly still. The tears had stopped flowing as she sat in disbelief. Her hands felt unsure as they wrapped around the much larger adult body, he was no longer the kid she remembered. She squeezed him tightly hoping that he would suddenly awake, or he would miraculously cough back to life. But nothing supernatural happened, no divine intervention occurred. It was just her, and all that was left of the one she loved, the one she so recklessly killed.

"Please no...oh God...please...please God...please, please...no, no, no..." The words teetered off loosely with a frailty that the wind could easily break. Clare held him tightly, closing her anguished filled eyes shut as she and Raki slowly rocked back and forth.

Every memory Clare had of him displayed before her like a carousel, and all she could do was sit and watch them go around and around. From the first words to the last goodbye they all began to whirl around faster and faster making her head swim. Every word, every smile, every day, every night, and the final goodbye blasted her mind like a torrent of twisted pain and selfishness. Louder and more painful, they echoed throughout her head banging with an overwhelming resonance as they crashed upon the edges of her psyche.

Suddenly the memories stopped, the pain departed and everything was silent. She opened her eyes carefully making sure that those nightmares would not return to haunt her again. Her heart stuttered as she looked up at a massive chandelier hanging from high arching walls around it. The outer streets of Rabona had disappeared leaving only the candle light and soft angelic choir filling the great cathedral around her. She cautiously sat up, noting her long brown hair falling before her eyes. An unshakable fear settled upon her soul as the little girl realized her place in this nightmare

Clare could see them out of the corner of eyes. They were both still standing behind the pulpit next to her just as before, but that is where the similarities came to a halt. She was no longer an observer of this funeral, she was the one all her sisters were bidding farewell to.

Fire engulfed the entire church setting all of her comrades ablaze. The flames reached skyward breathing smoke upon the ceiling. Clare was afraid, she didn't know what to do, the building was near collapse. Teresa and Jean didn't even blink as stones from the cathedral crashed around them burning the ground on which they stood.

"Teresa!" The green-eyed child yelled, trying to save her friends from the impending doom. No response, just as before, they stood almost lifeless as if they had to guard this ruined place of worship to their death. "Teresa!" She screamed again, but still they would not listen.

"Please! Say something!" Clare cried. But just as she had given up on them she noticed Teresa's eyes close ever so gently. A single tear fell from her face as her eyes came to a close.

One last apology reverberated through the marble halls ripping Clare's soul asunder as they finally reached her ears."Clare, I'm sorry."

Clare felt a piece of herself tear away, it was as if someone was literally trying to rip her to pieces. As if someone was breaking her down, destroying her, trying to replace her existence. But before she could contemplate Teresa's apology, a snow petal gently landed upon her cheek.

The burning cathedral walls had opened up to the cold winter night sky. Clare closed her eyes in fear as she heard the sounds of battle directly in front of her. Metal clashed and clanged as the two continued their death match in the open square of Pieta. Snow kicked up in their wake, as she desperately tried to see the other combatant. Lights flashed across the town each time the two locked blades.

It had to stop. Clare had to do something to end this struggle. More determined than she was afraid, the little girl walked into the midst of the square as the battle continued to rage around her.

"Stop!" She commanded, but the two continued to trade blows, "Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!" Her barrage of shouts quaked the very city around them.

Both combatants shot the little girl angered and confused looks. Both were covered with bruises and cuts. Gashes crossed their bodies and blood dripped from their exhausted hands. To her left stood Teresa, her hair mangled and frayed. To her right stood the side of herself Clare tried to forget. The twisted tentacles of sharp bone and exposed flesh arraigned themselves to her sides. She was more beast than human, more primal and cold than intellectual and warm.

The little girl took a long and hard look into that monster she would become. She pierced into those glowing rage filled eyes and saw a scared young woman trapped behind them. She wanted to help her, she wanted to reach out to her, to make things right. And then she witnessed it, she could see that they were both looking for the same thing. Clare was tired of the fighting, tired of wondering when it would all end and if she would ever be able to rest again. They both, the little girl and the beast before her, wanted it to stop.

Synchronized they both fell to their knees. And the more Clare looked at this monster, the more she could see the woman trapped inside. Hope rose within her as the ugly form of the Yoma began to shed away. The tentacles flaked off and her hands began to revert as her eyes started to change. More and more this evil that consumed her soul faded away. And kneeling before her was not a silver-eyed witch. She was not some weapon, not a warrior, nor a cold and calculated killer. Kneeling there was an ordinary woman. A green-eyed brunette. She was not carrying the heavy burdens of hate, not shouldering the pain of death, and not chained by a life of remorse. It was Clare, what was meant to be of her, what she should have been.

But in an instant it all came crashing down. A simple flash of light from the swinging blade and it was all gone. This version of her, this free woman, was decapitated. Her head rolled against the snow leaving a red track right to its final resting place. The little girl's body went slack in disbelief as she looked upon Teresa. How could she do something like this? How could this woman who rescued her from so much torment destroy the very thing she had wanted for Clare in the first place.

"I'm sorry Clare." Teresa's words fell on deaf ears.

The child's body shook, her breathing halted and her heart stopped. Clare had given up. There was nothing left to fight for. Any hope she had was savagely cut down by the one she trusted most.

Night quickly turned into day and the snow covered streets of Pieta melted away to the stone patterned crossings of Rabona. The high sun beat down upon the former number forty-seven's brow forcing her eyes to squint. With a quick glance Clare found herself kneeling in a pool of blood on the streets of Rabona. To her left was the lifeless corpse of Raki, her claymore driven completely through him. His eyes were peacefully closed. And in an instant it all came rushing back.

Clare felt everything inside her beginning to shutdown. First it became silent, then a cold numbness enveloped her body. It was becoming difficult to breath and her heart felt as if it was about to rupture. Intense waves of spasms wrecked her arms and legs. Her stomach began to violently twist and turn. Vomit uncontrollably spewed from her mouth on to the ground below her. She clinched her chest tightly as she doubled over again. Something was tearing her apart, clawing its way out and destroying Clare's soul in the process.


Miria and the other ghosts stood in awe by the reckless brutality that unfolded in front of them. Deneve quickly cut her eyes over to the cloaked man, he was also petrified with fearful bewilderment. No one moved, they all remained frozen as if the slightest flinch could send things into a chaotic spiral that would destroy the world.

A grisly silence held the entire street corner captive. The three Claymores tried to reason within themselves as to why this happened. But no theory, or rationale could quite explain or justify why it happened.

Clare had survived through all the pain and all the loss and all the suffering just to be able to see Raki one more time. And now at this place, this city, she cursed it all and drowned any hope of fullness in her life.

A quick flash of pure white light derailed Miria's internal reasoning. She quickly grabbed the hilt of her blade and raised it at Ermita. But to her surprise he hadn't done anything, in fact he took one hesitant step away from Clare. Another flash momentarily blinded the seasoned warrior forcing him to backpedal. Miria snapped her neck to the left hoping to catch a glimpse. Nothing, there was nothing.

Suddenly an enormous tidal wave of Yoki flooded her senses causing her head to swim in pain. Another flash of light accompanied the intense wave of power forcing Miria to her knees. What was going on? She couldn't hear anyone approaching, and if someone was going to attack they would have already taken the opportunity to do so. The former number six gritted her teeth in pain as she finally gathered the strength to look up at the source.

Miria blinked in reaction again as more blinding flashes of light exploded from within Clare's hunched and cowering frame. There was no rushing wind or hissing air this time. It wasn't a single pillar of light as before. It was emitting from within her, illuminating the entire city with an unavoidable barrage of light. An eerie silence held sway as the gravel and debris around Clare began to slowly levitate to the sky.

That street corner of Rabona could be likened to heaven. Every surface, from every building was masked in light so intense that no detail could be seen. The bricks that stacked themselves high to create each wall had transformed into a solid white plain under the extreme luminosity. It was surreal, the only definite surface was the ground on which they all stood.

Helen was only a few steps from Clare as the quick flashes of light turned into a searing and blinding white barrage of power. Her eyes were nearly forced shut from the intense brilliance radiating from within the mourning warrior. Out of reflex she dropped her sword and raised her hands to shield herself.

"Miria! What the hell is going on?" Helen screamed as she turned to see her comrade on her knees.

Before Miria could even decide whether to run or stay, another immense blast of light and power erupted from within Clare. Again, Miria and everyone else shielded themselves from the blast as best they could. And then just as sharply as it had erupted, the tremendous yoki power retreated.

Miria cautiously raised her head, looking, hoping, praying that the worst was over. But as her eyes gazed upon where Clare should've been an overwhelming sensation of dreadful curiosity cascaded upon her. There, floating before her, was not Clare, it was a Goddess.


A/N: Hope it is a little better than the original. And again I should have chapter 8 up very soon.