Green light, and then the endless darkness. One leading towards hope, and the other towards destruction. Even now he was unsure which path would lead them to safety. But the light had a much warmer call.
England focused on the invisible space between him and his magic. He was shrouded in darkness. But magic was a part of him, and one so familiar, that upon approaching its presence his eyes recalled it by photo-memory, enabling him to see it. Even through the many walls of this mansion.
"... England? Are you alright?" A voice loomed over him, carrying the concerned voice of America.
"I said I was bloody fine. Would you cut it out already?" England snapped frustrated by the break in his concentration.
"Its just that we're heading towards a blank wall..." America's voice spoke to him. A hand landed on England's shoulder, sending shivers down his spine. He knew it belonged to America, but somehow without the image to match it up it felt like it could be anyone's. The voice continued to speak over him, "Are you sure you know where you're going?"
England looked up at the glowing green orb before him, registering his own head tilt. Damn! It was on the third floor then. His depth perception was completely thrown off because all he could really see was the rotation of his magic in different parts of the building. Closer and further away was about all he could differentiate. It was hard to tell what was where in this 3D atmosphere. England sighed in frustration. This was going to be long and difficult if these two were going to be like this the whole time. "I know where I'm going! Its just these damn floors are hard to figure out," England looked around himself. Only to see more darkness, and faded specs of magic in the distance, "I'm fairly certain everything on that floor... or higher... or lower."
"You've got to be kidding me," France said realizing that meant they could potentially pass right over it, and have to go back.
"Well sorry I can't see like the rest of you," England complained, making a 180 turn, or something close to it, and storming away.
He heard the footsteps of the other two running after him. "Wait! England. - You'll fall," He couldn't differentiate between who said what as they spoke at the same time.
"Fall? He was the bloody British Empire! He might be blind, but he wasn't that clums-" His train of thought was derailed as he slipped on the staircase he had unknowingly headed towards. He tumbled head first, his hands grabbing at the empty darkness. Luckily hands landing on the railing beside him. Even if the catch pulled his arm, stretching the tendons, it still kept him from falling further down the stairs.
"England!" France's voice called out as two sets of hands reached him, pulling him to his feet.
England moved disoriented and short of breath as they dragged him away from the stairs. He sat on the flat floor panting, "Sorry..." He let out. He was frustrated, confused and sore, but he didn't need to be taking it out on them.
America let out a sigh of relief, "Look. We're all tired and frustrated. Let's just try and work together on this."
"You said you could sense some of your magic upstairs. Right? Let's head there first," France suggested.
The two led England around to the other staircase which led upstairs. England meanwhile tried to get a grip on his sense of direction. Each step he made up, he could see the nearby magic float down. But it was hard to tell if it was still above him, or below him. And how much. One floor? Two? Or were they all on this floor. Perhaps he needed to rely on America and France after all... he hated that thought. It was in their nature to do as much as they could on their own. Asking for help, was a sign of weakness. Still its not as if they weren't willing, or that they'd think less of him for it. He needed eyes.
England tripped over the last step on the staircase, catching himself last minute. "Watch your step," America responded habitually, helping England find his balance.
England glared at him, although he wasn't sure exactly where America was to glare at him, so instead he just glared at what he thought might be his general direction. "Sorry," America apologized.
England rolled his eyes. He turned his head to look in both directions, recalling where things were from memory. They were at the top of the staircase on the third floor. That meant to his right was the third floor library, and to his left, the piano room. There were three orbs of magic to his right and two to his left. He assumed the library was a decent guess for finding magic. It was at least a good place to hide it.
England turned right, "This way is the Third Floor Library, right?" He asked his two companions.
"You think some of your magic might be in here? But we've been here before. Wouldn't we have found it by now?" America asked.
"When we brought you, Italy, and Germany back into this time, we opened a door. The one that led to the annexe. But it also opened a door between the two worlds. When it brought you back, it also brought some of my magic along with it," England explained, "Do you understand?"
"... all I got was a bunch of magic mumbo jumbo," America said, he would never understand how any of that worked.
"Nevermind it then. It wasn't here before, but it is now," England shook his head. It really wasn't that hard a concept to wrap one's head around, was it?
"Are you two coming, or are we going to sit and talk?" France called to them waiting assumedly by the door. "We are after all, under attack. That thing could come at any moment," He worried.
Their faces grew serious. They knew exactly how dangerous that could be. The last fight had cost England his eyesight. They shut up and began searching in silence.
England put his hands in front of him upon entering the room. Waiting to bump into something. His foot made contact with the bookshelf first. Luckily he'd been moving slow enough it didn't stub his toes. He followed along the frame of the bookshelf, using it as a guide towards the glowing emerald orb ahead of him. It seemed too low to him, and made him feel like he was walking on glass. Or that there was no ground at all. Because wisps of magic traveled through the floor and in the air, giving it the impression of floating. As he got closer he reached out for it. But it was like reaching for something in a 3D movie. Only worse. He couldn't see his own arm. He could see the magic ahead of him, but not himself, which made him feel almost like he wasn't there, by illusion. Maybe he wasn't close enough yet. He inched along the bookshelf grabbing at nothing. But it was right there! Maybe a little lower? He got to his knees, now it seemed suddenly closer. He inched along the floor. If he couldn't reach it he would keep going until he passed it. Then he'd at least know when he was close
...It was a lot farther away than he thought. The orb went from looking about the size of a blueberry, to a bit larger than the size of a softball. How had America and France not seen this? He looked to his right. Two more lumps his magic waited in the distance. He also heard two sets of soft footprints on the floor. They were still looking.
England put his hands in front of his knees and stretched out. It couldn't be much further. It looked like he was practically on top of it. His fingertips nudged at something in the corner of the bookshelf. He inched it closer until he could wrap his fingers around it. It felt like a powdery rock... and not unfamiliar. It was almost the size of a baseball. This wasn't it was it? But it had just looked so much bigger. He brought it close to him, suddenly blinded by the green light of his magic. The orb was about the size of a softball. The magic swelled as he held it. Becoming bigger, and brighter. Wisps of green swirled about him, almost giving him a sense of sight, because the fuzzy shadow that moved across it would be his arm. England crushed the stone in his hand, absorbing the magic back into his body. There was a sudden rush of adrenaline that coursed through him, as he welcomed the magic back. Power growing and calming him.
He opened his eyes to the same darkness. It still wasn't enough. Even this much magic only brought him up to maybe ten percent. He would need at least fifty percent to fix his eyes. And that would drain him. They couldn't afford that. There was too much he needed this power for than to selfishly fix a mistake he made. Bringing Spain and Romano back would take about the same amount, although it wouldn't leave him quite as drained.
England scanned the room. America and France should be in here somewhere. He used the bookshelf to pull himself the rest of the way up, and to get a bearing on his surroundings. There were still two glimmering lights in the room, and two more that seemed off from the others. As well as one more that might be in this room? He wasn't sure. It seemed a bit more set apart from the others. Perhaps it was out in the hall? But then they should have passed it. He also didn't see it coming in. Maybe it was on the next floor then. He felt like he was getting a better grasp on his surroundings. It was easier to tell distance now.
England caught a change in the pattern of motion by one of the remaining lumps of magic in the room. A fuzzy shadow moved across it. Then it suddenly jerked upward. "Got it!" America's voice came from that direction, "Alright. I finally found one."
England followed along the bookshelf until it ended and headed then in a relatively straight line, moving closer to the flickering light, "Let me see that," He asked reaching for it.
America placed the stone in England's hand. England crushed it, taking back his power. Twenty percent. That should be twenty percent now. Not too bad. He was feeling a little stronger now. It still wasn't enough for him to stand on his own, but he was becoming more confident. With the four remaining stones he may be strong enough actually be of some use! He opened his eyes to see faint shadows by the last emerald light in the room. Was it the energy bouncing off the bookshelf?
"How many are left?" France's voice boomed right behind him, causing England to jump.
England looked around, checking again. He kept expecting something to disappear. As if they were allowed to get close, but not quite reach what they're reaching for. That's usually how this went. Strange how calm things had started to seem... as if some huge storm were about to hit... he was probably just being paranoid.
"Let's see. There's one more in this room. Then two more in the piano room, then perhaps the hallway?... No it must be on the next floor," England confirmed, already walking around to the next light, back towards the center. He counted bookshelves. This one? No, not unless it was inside a book. One more row. Same problem. Again. It was always just a bit farther than it seemed. He passed yet another bookcase. The light began to move passed him. This one. Towards the far left? He could see the cranny of the shelf's overhang. So that must mean it was underneath. Or it wouldn't show up? Something like that. England kept moving forward until his hand connected with wall. He seemed to be right on top of it. He stooped down, and followed the fuzzy shadow of his hand passing over it. Right under the nook. The magic lump felt solid in his hand as he squeezed it, releasing his magic into dust. Raising his power a little more. It wouldn't be long now, he told himself. 30%.
"Did you find it already?" America asked. His voice didn't seem to come from nowhere now. A shadow moved. It was a fuzzy outline at best. And he could only see it if America moved. Standing still, was the same as ever. Darkness.
"Yeah. Its getting a little easier to find my way around now that I have a little magic back," England explained.
"Does that mean if you can recover more, you might get your eyesight back?" France asked coming in from the side.
"No," England answered almost immediately. This was somewhat a lie, but even if he could. He couldn't... he needed to use that power to bring back Spain and Romano. And after that he had to use it to protect the others. His magic would eventually recover on its own with rest, but that meant a week or two after they escape this place. And by then, it would have already left a permanent scar. Disabling his vision forever. "I can just see the magic moving a bit more easily now," England told them.
"I'm, gonna go get a head start on that piano room..." America responded dashing out of the room.
"Bloody hell," England muttered.
"Are you really going to be ok?" France worried.
"Oh don't you start that too. I might be blind, but I'm not weak. I can hold my own," England complained. Their constant worrying was like a constant reminder that he'd messed up. He was getting sick of it.
France laughed, "Oh I believe you. ... I meant after this is all over. And things have gone back to normal. You'll still be blind. How are you going to deal with everyday normalcy, and this? Have you thought of how it might reflect on the country you carry on your shoulders?" France ended solemnly.
England had never thought that far into it. He didn't want to. It didn't change anything. He still had to use this magic to bring back Spain and Romano. It seemed all he was doing now was fixing his mistakes, and living with their consequences. But they were his mistakes. They were no one else's burden to bare. He couldn't even think about the hell he'd be in after they escape. He was still using everything he had to try and get them out of there! England glared in the direction he last saw France's fuzzy shadow, "... Just... Shut up. I'm fine," He complained running out of the room as well.
France followed after a minute to himself. America was still concerned about England because of his eyes. And England was in turn pretending he could do everything himself. Their problems didn't end there. He'd just talked with Canada about feeling unimportant. Germany was too distracted by Italy to be any help. And he wondered how many others had noticed how particularly mysterious Russia had been lately. They may look like a united front, but in reality they were far from it. He wondered how long they could keep pretending everything was fine between them.
England followed the pattern of his magic in order to navigate the hallway. He wasn't going to think about it. Or rather, he couldn't. He had to focus right now. He couldn't be worrying about things he couldn't control. He focused on the glimmering and movements of the two green lights. America must have already found them both. Well it was less of a maze in there. England fumbled for the door.
"Dude check out how awesome I am! I already found them both!" America cheered rushing to England with a wild energy.
France closed the door behind them. "Great. This should be enough to make an actual impact. With this I won't be so much of a burden," England smiled holding out his hand for them.
"... England," America tried to think of what to say. He was reminded again of how England had sacrificed himself for them all those times ago. In this very room.
"What is it now? Just hand them over," England complained reaching for them but only grabbing at air.
"You keep saying you're a burden. But thats not right," France joined in. He was trying to do it all on his own again. And so far, that had always been their biggest mistake. This was too big to take on all by one person.
"You've done more than most of us put together have been able to do. Now its our turn. Promise me you won't do anything reckless," America demanded worriedly.
"Oh for crying out loud! I did that ONE time. And it was really just to get YOU to stop acting recklessly America. Alright? I've learned my lesson. So would you both just drop it?" England complained. It was frustrating enough dealing the consequences of his mistake without the two of them constantly reminding him of it.
"But it wasn't just the one time," America thought. England had been acting recklessly with those strange powers of his, trying to solve all their problems that way, that now he didn't even realize he was doing it anymore.
"Now if we're going to make any progress at all, would you please give me my magic?" England tried to be civil. He was frustrated, and fed up with the lot of them, but he was a gentleman after all.
America placed the stones in England's outstretched hand. A part of him wanted this entire time to hide these lumps of magic. To keep England away from this power he sought. Because so far every time he used it, it only caused England to become weaker and weaker, and to seek more and more power. The good it caused paled in comparison when he considered the outcome. But certain things were expected now. With Italy alive there was once again hope for their timeline. That meant they had to get everything ready for when he awoke. Because they were so very close. And preparation required getting Spain and Romano back, and the only one who could do that was England. If America kept him away from this magic now, it would mean those two could not be brought back, and this time and all their struggles, would have been for nothing.
England relaxed once he felt the essence of his magic touch the palm of his hand, releasing a tingling sensation. His hand clenched almost instinctually around it. The magic from both chunks of stone releasing into his system all at once. When it had settled, a new ability revealed itself. England looked at his two companions. Looked at them. Their aura's surrounded them, outlining them. Blue energy like lightning outlined America's basic shape. And a soft red, like velvet did the same for France. England smiled. If this was what he was left with. After all this was over, and his magic recovered on its own. If this is what he had left, he could live with it. It was almost like he could see again. With the exception of inanimate objects. He could at least see the refraction of energy off of them so he wouldn't bump into anything. However abstract things like fashion, and sunsets would be long forgotten. But what did they matter now?
"There's just the one upstairs now. Oui?" France asked, breaking England from his train of thought.
"Yeah. That's right. Then I should have enough to re-open that gate," England confirmed. Although that was a partial lie. He had enough magic now to do a bit more that that. But if he could collect ALL the pieces of his magic, he might be able to help fight too. Or at least do SOMETHING. He hated feeling useless.
The group followed England as he led them upstairs. Able to use his own emerald aura to see the waves of energy bouncing off the door enough to to find the doorknob without difficulty. He led them confidently around to the right, where the staircase leading up was located. It wasn't to hard finding the railing of the first step either; using his own aura like a dim flashlight.
The last piece lay dead ahead, growing in size as he came closer. Or perhaps, not growing but it only appeared to grow as he got closer. It was larger than he originally thought. Although it had appeared at the time the same size as the lumps of magic on the last floor. Now it seemed nearly four times that size, and it moved peculiarly. Resting just ahead of him in the center of the hall in tight coils spinning round and round as if binding something. Something which was not to be seen. Something secret. The magic also dulled as he grew nearer. Brilliant beacons of emerald died back into dark leaf-like vines as if smoldering a flame to nothing more than dying embers. Emerald embers. When he was finally close enough to touch it, his magic had died back enough that he could barely sense it. In fact... if he had never had to rely on this sense instead of his eyes... he probably would have never noticed.
"Dude! Is that what I think it is?" America rushed over noticing England had stooped down to inspect this new object. He seemed to know what it was for some reason.
England picked it up, to feel the heavy weight of a book in his hands. His hand brushed past the worn pages of the closed book, the encircling magic cooling at his touch, hiding its presence, and secret, from him.
"Italy's Journal? But I thought, Spain and Romano had it with them," France commented confused, "do you think they could have found their way back?"
"No," England answered slowly, still thumbing over the surface of the book. "If they did manage to get back. They wouldn't have dropped this. That its here now..." England wasn't sure how to word it, but the thought continued in his head, "That it's here now... It almost implies they were able to find the gate, but that they were unable to cross." It was all on him then. Those two had no way to return, so it depended completely on whether he could open this passageway or not.
"I still think they might be here. It couldn't hurt to take a look around right?" America suggested hopefully. If there was even a small chance it would save them all a lot of trouble. And possibly keep england from overexerting himself.
England ignored America for the moment. Caught up in exploring the magical components surrounding the journal. He opened it with ease, but when he tried to recall his magic, it was like trying to recall something that wasn't there. He received no reaction. It was too bad really, the seal was very powerful, and could restore a great amount of his magic... even more intriguing, what it was guarding. Because whatever it was must be more precious than anything else.
"That sounds like a good plan. If they made it back they would either be around here, or they would have made it back to the room. It couldn't hurt just to check this floor," France agreed with America.
England finally joined them, clutching the journal close to him. "Well if they were back. Why would the go anywhere other than our room on the second floor? Why would they be in any of these rooms?" England poked holes in their optimism.
While America was thinking of someway to argue with England there was a large bang from down the hall which caused them all to jump. America instead went to inspect. He walked the short ways down the hallway to the door which led to the room with the lever. He called out to see if it was them, "Spai-"
The door was smashed open and thrown to the far wall, taking America with it.
America's head bounced off the wall with a dull thud, lying in a daze among the rubble that used to be the door. A large creature slowly emerged from the entrance. A giant grey monster. The same one that had taken their lives countless times in forgotten worlds. And the same creature that threatened them now.
"America!" France shouted rushing to his side to help him. Being the only one who could actually see what happened.
England froze. He could tell america was alright. But beyond that... He was still trying to piece together what happened. It looked like he'd just jumped backward into the wall. And then there was the new aura that had entered the room. He was sorry he hasn't noticed it before. He was too caught up on the journal to notice. Silver and blood melted together and tore apart violently, to create violent flames that carried the monsters rage. Moving irregularly, almost as if he were seeing an echo. The monster reared its head back before charging. The sound of a an earsplitting screech reached England's ears, right as the creatures tilted back head reached the end of the echo.
England caught on just in time, "France! America! Look out!" He called to them, right as the monster began to charge.
The monster crashed into the wall they were just a moment ago snarling threats, "diE!"
France breathed a momentary sigh of relief standing just out of harms way, holding a groggy and just awaking America. "Thank god for filia. Without my fast feet it might have us." The creature turned around, ready to attack again. France smiled forlornly, "But I'm afraid its gonna take a lot more than that to exterminate us."
"France would you quit being dramatic while we're under attack?!" England complained trying to remain calculating, while so much happened around him he couldn't see nor explain. "To your right!" He called out warning him of a blow that would collide with him, if he did not move quickly. Using premonition, he could see a few seconds ahead into the monster's movements. This ability didn't put a strain on his magic, but did put a slight strain on him physically. Although minimal, if he did this for too long he might get ill.
France dodged the attack, using the opening to stab the creature in the gut with his dagger. America finally rose in a dazed scramble. Unholstering his gun.
The creature raked its claws at the air in front of them, England warning them just in time again. America shot off several rounds, all making contact with the creature in what appeared to be vital points. Two to the head, one right between the eyes, and four to the chest. And still the creature continued to attack as if were nothing.
"YoU WOn't eScApE!" It cried reaching for them. Trying to grab at them. To twist them, to break them, whatever it took to kill them. It moves fast. Almost too fast for England to warn them.
"Too your left!" He shouted predicting its movements seconds before it made contact.
America didn't dodge. Instead he lined the barrel of his gun up exactly with massive incoming hand. Waiting for a perfect shot. With a Bang! The creature reared back screeching in agony, flailing its twisted and broken hand. Even shot at point blank it seemed to do little damage. The bullet stuck out of the center of the hand. Impact scars surrounding it on all sides. Blowing it apart. The long dagger like fingers twisted against it, then lay at odd angles. The crippled hand lay against the monsters side, useless.
Although they'd be stupid to think that'd be the end of it. The monster reared its ugly head once more, making eye contact with the one who can't see. It had figured out why all its attacks were failing now. England saw its change in direction just a moment before it screeched, "yOu woN'T eSCApE!"
England froze. Unsure of what to do. It was too fast for him to run away from. As he was now, he'd trip, and that'd be it. Also, there really wasn't anywhere he could run to. He could attack it using what little magic he had left, but even that wouldn't stop it now. And then he wouldn't have enough to return Spain and Romano. It was an impossible decision.
"Shit!" America cursed. And started firing off bullets rapidly. Six to the head and the creature screeched, jerking wildly, its good hand holding its head, the crippled one hanging uselessly at its side twitching instinctually to help hold its head. America fired again this time hitting it in its bad hand. The cascade of inflamed nerves causing it to shriek in agony. Meanwhile France tried to distract it by running around, catching its eye, and leading it back away from England.
The monster they faced was a creature of fury. It was intelligent enough to where their weaknesses were, and to make detailed and calculated attacks. But it was distracted easily. They managed to get it to turn around and face them without too much incident.
America shot at its legs. If kill zones had little effect. Then maybe he could at least paralyze it. If it couldn't move, it wasn't as much of a threat. America was an excellent shot, but the creature was also quite fast. Several bullets whizzed by stabbing the floorboards, before a few actually managed to make contact with the creatures legs. There were almost twenty bullets fired, before the creature finally slowed down. Six bullets jutted out of its right leg, and eight in its left. The creature stopped fighting then. Realizing it was on the losing side. It stared them down leaving one final warning before fading away, "YoU...WOn't...ESc...aPe."
THE FOLLOWING CAN BE READ IN ANY ORDER:
- Russia, China, Canada
- England, America, France
- Italy
AFTER ALL OF THE ABOVE: Safe room
