"You're doing it again," Road's bored voice broke the silence in the room. He'd constructed it hastily within a tiny grotto he'd located some few miles away from the lake, where he'd gotten frustratingly close to cornering his nemesis. Tyki paced up and down the stone floor, covered by a magnificent carpet. He'd started the room out with some very basic furniture, but had since pushed it up against the wall. The grotto was lit dimly by a fireplace, dug out of the stone wall and decorated by a handsome mirror. He'd been inspecting his wounds when the image of Road appeared inside of it, and began to talk to him. Of course, all of this he would dispose of, and he would leave this place in much the same state as he'd found it in. It was a useful talent, to be certain, but nothing he made was ever truly real.

"Doing what?" Tyki snapped. If it was meant to startle the young girl, she was completely unmoved.

"Brooding," she answered. "Or did you forget? I'm a part of your mind, now, you know."

"You're not even real," he responded, sulkily, "I'm talking to myself. Look what you've done to me."

"What I've done?" Road questioned him, still showing no change in her calm demeanour, "Are you suggesting I did this to myself?"

"You're not real," Tyki repeated, turning away from the mirror, as if doing so would make it stop.

"I'm as real as you make me," Road reminded him. "Like the others," she stepped aside, and more figures began to enter the mirror. Tyki dared to look. The twins appeared on either side of her, their once cheery faces lacking emotion. The hulking figure of Skin Boric stepped into view, staring back at Tyki with cold eyes.

"Leave me alone," he commanded, turning away from the mirror again, to the forgiving emptiness of his grotto. Physically, he was alone. He'd been alone for a long, long time. The very thought made his heart ache, or, he supposed, what was left of it.

"Please, Tyki," the voice came again from behind him, but it was not Road's, nor did it belong to the twins or Boric. He shook. He stood directly before the fire, yet his skin felt ice cold.

"No," he answered, swallowing.

"Please," the voice repeated.

"I said no!" Tyki spun, his fist colliding with the mirror, shattering it, but not before he caught a glimpse of her. He didn't need to look long to memorise her every feature. Her haunted eyes were burned in his memory forever. Tyki pulled his fist back, now bloodied like the rest of him, but it didn't hurt. None of his wounds caused him pain. No pain could compare to the pain he felt in the pit of his soul.

Breathing heavily, he forced himself to stand, kicking aside the broken shards into the corner of the room. He turned his attention upwards. A body was suspended upside down, slowly revolving as if held fast by an invisible rope. It was, once, a very beautiful woman. Now, her eyes were deflated and her skin had taken on a sickening bluish colour. Tyki raised his arms, the body slowly descending until he could run his fingers through her wispy hair.

"Forgive me," he said, knowing she wouldn't hear him where she was. His hands wrapped around her skull, and his grip tightened as the body began to spasm. It seemed to be rapidly dehydrating as Tyki's complexion took on the colour of spoiled blood. All the while, his wounds closed and he seemed to stand a little taller as the body shrank into a withered husk.

He released it, and the body crumpled to the floor as mere bones, crumbling at his feet. Tyki rolled his shoulders, closing his eyes. He could not necessarily heal his wounds, but one of the many perks with his mantle was being able to repair a construct, not just create them. He couldn't create something from nothing, however, and in order to mend flesh and bone, he needed to deconstruct flesh and bone.

He felt renewed, invigorated, and bloodthirsty. The only reason he'd not yet destroyed the Shepherd was due to his own failures thus far. He needed a better plan. He needed to get smart. He wanted this badly, more than anything else in the world, and there was only one way to attain it. He needed the Shepherd's power. Nea, or, Allen, it now was, had the power of a god at his fingertips. And what did he use it for? To bring back his pet?

Tyki swallowed his rage, trying very hard to concentrate on a way forward. He'd gambled a lot on the girl, giving her one of his most prized tools. With both his Mark, and the enforcement of Road's hypnosis, she would surely not fail him. Would she? Tyki was nervous. He'd put on an act of confidence, but the truth was, he had no idea if he'd done the deed correctly. He began to pace again, this time, without Road's commentary. He'd made certain that Walker wouldn't follow him. He'd hit him with enough of Fiidora's venom that he could possibly have drowned. The thought sickened Tyki. If that had happened...

Growing more nervous by the minute, Tyki's pacing became an aggravated march. He couldn't linger here. It was a small, paranoid thought niggling at the back of his conscious. Every second he spent waiting was another second he was being plotted against, and he couldn't afford that. He had everything to lose.

He turned, throwing his energies into the room. The furniture began to melt away, forming itself into the natural stone surrounding him. The ornate rug fizzled and dissolved into a resin under his feet, and the makeshift hearth receded into the wall, leaving the hungry fire to slowly die out. Tyki pulled on the very thin stretch of ley line that reached down under the earth, and his form winked out, leaving the cave exactly how he'd found it.

He reappeared at the shoreline, not too far from where he'd parted ways with Allen. His piercing eyes searched warily, but finding no sign of life, he pressed on. He was like a wolf, a predator, but he was nervous. Matters had become far too delicate for him to fail another time.

He could sense the remnants of magic used here, both demonic and benign, but it had been some time, and their users were long gone. He felt around the ley lines in the area, trying to taste the signature of anyone that had used them recently, but the traces were faded now, and he only sensed his own. Pity. He wondered where such a trace would take him. Westreach, perhaps? It was very likely. It had been many years since he last found himself within those poorly guarded walls. He was a very different man back then- a happy one, even. But weak.

"Once again, brooding," Road drawled. Tyki grit his teeth. Where had she come from? "Brooding, always brooding."

"Why must you torment me?" Tyki said, looking away from her. She wasn't real. She wasn't. Road tilted her head, frowning.

"Did you think wielding my mantle was a simple matter?" She quizzed him, giving the man pause. "Did you think a mantle lording over the mind such as mine does could be so easily ignored? Conjured only of convenience?"

"Are you trying to tell me-,"

"No, still technically all you," Road said, cutting off his question, which she anticipated. "But I exist in your mind entirely. The one thing you can never run away from. You cannot so easily 'kill' me when the very thought of me keeps me alive."

"Then I command you to be silent," Tyki growled. "You're not helping. You don't understand what is at stake here." Road giggled tauntingly.

"Oh, but I do!" She said, as if it made all the sense in the world. "It's so easy, bonded together now as we are."

Her image shimmered, materialising in front of him. He flinched at her sudden appearance, but made no move to stop her as her small, dark hand came to rest on his cheek. It was a very gentle motion, almost motherly. She looked up at him, and Tyki shut his eyes tightly as she forced his memories to surface.

"You used to be such a loving man," Road observed, her goat-slitted eyes seeming to look past him, "What happened to you?"

Suddenly, they were no longer standing at the shoreline. Road turned as the sunlight surrounded them in no promised warmth. Tyki opened his eyes, taking in the scene. Road watched him look around, bewildered.

"What is this? Where are we? What did you do?" Tyki demanded, not entirely comfortable, but feeling no danger, either. Road shrugged.

"I have no idea. I thought you could tell me."

They were in Westreach. It was high noon, if the chiming of the great clock were to be believed. Children chased one another in the streets, while busy workers went about their chores, many hauling carts full of straw or produce to and fro. The market was abuzz with trade in the street feeding downtown, but they stood instead in the busy square, dominated by a modest chapel with a bell tower, currently settling down as the bellboy descended.

Tyki emerged from the market with long strides, carrying what looked like a basket of assorted flowers, some herbs, and a sad-looking loaf of bread. He was dressed like any commoner, in long, dark trousers and a loosely hemmed shirt resembling what might have once been a potato sack. He certainly looked much younger, mid-twenties, perhaps. Tyki passed them, fading through them like a ghost as he entered the chapel. They followed.

The inside of the chapel was rather dark, dimly lit by a few candles and what little light penetrated the dreck-filled windows. There were some pigeons occupying the upper rafters, littering the floor with their feces and lost feathers. Tyki heard their talons scraping the dried wood above as they watched his ghost with greedy little eyes. Ghost Tyki entered a back room, even dimmer still. It was much warmer in this room, but coupled with the smell it was easy to tell that the warmth was from fever.

Ghost Tyki knelt next to a cot which was pushed against the wall, laid with long-flattened straw and a sheet that may have once been white, but had changed colour due to sweat and sick. It wasn't a comfortable-looking setup, but since the rest of the room was just cold stone, it was the only place to lay down for the sick person atop it.

The small loaf of bread was withdrawn from the basket and laid on top of the cot.

"Eat," Ghost Tyki commanded, but not in a harsh tone. The person on the cot didn't move. Concerned, Tyki nudged them with his hand. The bread was knocked away. He frowned. "Please," he picked it up, setting it back where it was, "You're weak. You need to-!"

The person pulled the sheet down, turning over. She was pale with her illness, her long, dark hair sticking to her face. Her hands were bony, suggesting she was malnourished. It was clear she was running a high fever. A towel lay on the floor, still wet, but like the bread had been knocked away. The woman, despite her pitiful state, was looking at Tyki fondly, and managed a small smile. Her bright, amber eyes stood out against her sallow cheeks.

"You've been working so hard," she said, gently. Tyki had to pause his activities to even hear her. "Why don't you eat? You need nourishment, too."

"Don't be daft," Tyki took the bread and broke off a piece, "I'm fine. I can work all day long, I'm fit." He pushed it to her lips.

Her expression grew weary.

"I'm not getting any better," she said, sounding tired.

"I bought herbs today from Zuu Mei, and he's instructed me in a better method," Tyki continued, trying to change the subject, "I'm going back to the governor's estate later, to negotiate."

"If you didn't have to care for me, you could afford to-!"

"Don't talk like that," Tyki cut her off, having given up offering her food and now attempting to force feed her. "You are everything to me. You're going to recover. I'll make the governor see reason. I'll get our farm back. Things will go back to the way they were, and we'll raise a couple lads and grow old. Remember when you said that? It was a promise."

"I was cracked in the head when I said that, wasn't I?" she chuckled softly, but Tyki didn't find it funny.

"That's enough," The scene faded as black smoke rolled in around them, shrouding everything in a dark cloud. Tyki was staring down, his eyes shut tightly. "The past is the past. Buried. Leave me!"

At his command, he opened his eyes. Road was gone, and the calm of the twilight surrounded him once more. Tyki breathed the evening air deeply, releasing a sigh, and gathered his mind again. That memory felt so real. Was he going mad? His demonic eyes scanned the dirt, noting the spots where it was blackened and despoiled. Blood had been shed here. But the knife... she ought to have left it. Where was it? His eyes gave in to a nervous twitch. Something had gone wrong. Somehow, there was a hole in his plan. Were his instructions unclear?

A soft meow broke him away from his paranoid thoughts. A mangy old cat had somehow slipped his notice, and it was now threading between his legs, tail held high, pressing its body into his shins. He could feel the inner rumble of a purr drumming in his bones. He simply stared down at the cat, and when it finally paused to return his gaze, there was a knowing sort of look between them.

"I've spoken with the Shepherd," the cat said, sitting on her haunches, calmly, "He says you will kill me." The stark and calm acknowledgement of this information was striking to him, so Tyki found himself unable to answer right away. But the cat continued, unconcerned with his thoughts on the matter. "I'm not here to put up a fight. My body is old and broken. Death would be a welcome release, knowing the master is to return. I no longer live to safeguard my mantle."

The cat then tilted her head, quizzically.

"But there is one thing, I ask, in return. Would you indulge me, my dear friend?"

Tyki nodded, numbly. Somehow, she made him feel a bit guilty about it, whereas he may not have felt anything if he'd found her first.

"On the night I manifested," she began, and Tyki clutched tightly at nothing, his hands balling, "I sensed distress. I felt it was my duty to investigate. I found that the distress had been coming from none other than Nea, but when I tried to intervene I was thwarted. Bound to this body," the cat's tail swished in distaste, "But you, you were there. Was it you, Tyki? Did you summon him?"

Tyki's fists balled tighter. The answer was far more complex than what she thought. He'd done so out of revenge, not out of a desire to meet his dark lord. How could he possibly explain the truth? He would lie. He could only lie. What did it matter to her, anyway?

"Yes," he said, after a pause. "Blood sacrifice." The cat blinked wisely, as if nodding in approval.

"I expected as much," she said, and after another thoughtful pause, she added, "I have a theory, my friend. It is blasphemous, but if I weren't on Death's door, I'd keep it buried in my thoughts." Now Tyki raised his brows. She had his attention.

"Do speak," he invited her. She pounced onto a rock, more so to rest her neck than anything. She settled comfortably, paws tucked under her body like a fuzzy loaf. Now almost eye to eye with him, she continued.

"It is buried deep into our ancestral memories, the birth of the first Incarnate. We don't remember it ourselves, but we know one thing is true- the Shepherd acts as both jailor and retainer to Millennium. We know that the first Incarnate was born upon the day of the banishment. We know that his jailor was the Magister, Mana. I ask you, do you believe that Mana was perhaps, the first Shepherd, as well?"

Tyki took a moment to digest the information. Lulu raised a fair question. He'd never considered it, but it was possible that Mana and the Shepherd were once one and the same.

"That might be possible," Tyki relented, now curious about what she might be working towards. The cat blinked slowly, again.

"But how could that be," Lulu asked, "If the Shepherd calls himself Nea? For eons the Shepherd has deemed himself Nea- not Mana. Our names are etched onto our magical signatures. "

"What are you suggesting?" Tyki pressed.

"That Nea and the Shepherd are two different entities," Lulu said, as if it were simple. Tyki took a step back. He tried to digest the information, but was finding it tough.

"Perhaps the Shepherd of us Incarnates inherits his mantle differently than we do," she plowed on, ignoring his disbelief, "Do you recall, when the Grand Magister took in his apprentice, it was under the qualification that he was descended of an ancient line of powerful Magisters himself?"

"A descendent of Mana, you mean," Tyki clued in, pieces seeming to fall together in his mind. The cat blinked in approval again.

"A descendent of the Shepherd," she clarified. Tyki's skin felt very cold when the enormity of what she was suggesting finally sunk in.

"Do you think, Nea only seeks out the descendants of the Shepherd?"

"Perhaps," Lulu said, her claws kneading at the rock with awful little scratching sounds. "But we haven't even touched on the blasphemy, yet. Do you recall the moment Nea went silent?"

"The summoning," Tyki almost whispered the words, "Yes, I remember."

"I believe Nea is not dead," she said, a soft purr accentuating her words, "Simply put, I believe he no longer had reason to communicate with the Shepherd once the Ark was cast."

Her words hit him like a brick in the back of the neck. She couldn't be saying that Nea was... It made a lot of sense. But was it true? Lulu didn't seem so sure of it herself. After all, she'd introduced it as a theory. But if it were any bit true... how much did it change? Questions raced through his head as the cat rolled onto her back. Could he really sap the Shepherd's mantle if it wasn't even his own?

"Enough of my conspiracies," Lulu yawned. Her age was showing, the frame of her feline self so bony and matted she looked like she'd crawled out of a cistern. "You wanted to put an end to me, no? I'm certain my mantle will be of far more use to you. I've done nothing but hide, and observe, think... for twenty years. For a cat, that is an age. Next time, I shall find a much more suitable host."

He was looking at a beautiful woman now, her dark hair falling in black cascades down the rock she laid upon. Her chest was bare and looked warm in the setting sun, forming a shadowed valley leading toward her neck. But in her eyes there was a sadness. Tyki shuddered. She looked so much like her. Did she do this intentionally? It was a cruel trick. Lulu's hand extended and cupped his cheek.

"You have a purpose. I do not know what it is, if it is benign or malign. But it drives you. I hadn't a purpose before, but now, I know what I must do," she said, not moving her hand. A tear edged at her own cheek. "Goodbye, my dear friend. Until we meet again, in another life."

She was gone. Tyki felt a surge of power fill him, his dark skin rippling with its newfound ability, as if trying to break it in. He breathed in harshly, then looked down at the rock. The old cat lay unmoving, its eyes shut in peaceful slumber. Of all the Incarnates, Lulubell was his only friend. And even she had been dealt cruel hands. He felt for her, but knew that he must remain true to his purpose, now more than ever.

He cradled the cat's tiny body in his arms, feeling slightly disgusted with himself. He felt a duty to dispose of the body in dignity, out of mere respect for his fallen comrade. He constructed a pyre on the shore from the rotting bark jutting out from the forest's edge. There was a small platform at the top, just large enough to fit her comfortably. When he set her down, she looked like she was only sleeping.

With just a word, the pyre burst into flame.

"You have done me a great service, friend," he said, it seemed, to nobody.


The throbbing in Lavi's head was unreal. His eyes opened slowly to find that he was quite alone, and the room was dark, but homely. Indoors. And he was in a bed. It was thankfully warm, and the bed sheets were very comfortable. It had seemed like forever since he'd rested this well. There was muffled shouting outside of the room, but it seemed very far away, and so he found himself unconcerned for the moment.

He lay there a moment in blissful grogginess before the realisation hit him that he had five fingers, not five claws, and that not a single part of his body felt scaly. He almost shouted in pure joy, but only a raspy croak emerged. A sharp pain punished his effort, and he lay there as still as possible in hopes that the pain would fade again. Finding it impossible to will the throbbing in his head away, he tried to think back to the events leading up to his current situation.

They had tracked Lenalee down by following his trail of destruction, and when Cross left them to confront Allen alone, he'd instructed him and Kanda to secure Lenalee and bring her home. Only, they hadn't made it far at all. He couldn't remember past the moment they took off. In all but a second, there was something sharp in his neck, and it felt as if it were drinking his very blood. A thought entered his mind with a hot fury. Had Kanda tried to have him killed again? Where was the son of a bitch now? After everything they had been through...

The door opened, and a pan of water clattered on the floor. A mousy-looking servant girl stood utterly startled in the doorway. Lavi tried to turn his head to see her better, as she stood on his blind side, but the motion caused him pain, and another muted sound trembled from his lips.

"I-I'm sorry, milord," she stammered, bending to pick up the object she'd dropped. "I d-didn't know you were awake. The mistress will want to know you've awakened. She said, 'At once.'"

The mistress? Lenalee? Was she here? His worries eased. He wanted to know where she was, but the girl had already left, almost tripping over her own dainty feet on the way out. He expected she was going to fetch Lenalee. With the information he'd thus far gathered, it was safe to say he was in the Estate in Westreach. Mustering his strength, Lavi sat up, finding the throbbing in his head and neck now bearable. The shifting of his position brought attention to the carefully wrapped dressings around his neck. He wanted to know how bad it looked, but there was no way to look at it in this room, as there was no mirror. He hoped it didn't look as bad as it felt.

He was embarrassed to find that someone had dressed him. They were more or less pyjamas, but they did the job. He wasn't overly interested in how he presented himself to anyone, so long as he was clothed. The shouting in the hall escalated, and he wanted to find out what had them in an uproar.

His movements were slow and deliberate, but he found that if he kept his head level, he could move. So he walked with an unusual gait, following the voices. He ran into nobody in the hall, something he found himself somewhat thankful for. It was becoming more and more apparent that the sounds were coming from the council chamber, and that there were several gentlemen seated within. He recognised voices from not only the council of Fort Honning, but from local and surrounding councilmen as well. That didn't bode well. The only time they ever gathered like this was when something big was happening. Something not good.

He stood outside of the main chamber doors, the voices all too clear now without even having to enter. So he listened.

"Have you gone completely mad, chancellor? The Magister failed. He ought to be chained immediately-!"

"Chained?" came an indignant snort. He did not know to whom it belonged to. "A whole lot of good that will do you! Unless you're fishing for a vote from the disgruntled citizen, as always! Must I remind you we are gathered here to solve the problem?"

"Our Lady is safe," a sensible female voice cut over the two men, "We must evacuate her, as well as all of Westreach. We cannot risk our people's lives."

"Our militia will fight!" Insisted another man, and this time, Lavi recognised the Captain of the Guard, Howard Link. "We will not allow our homes to fall without resistance." There were murmurs of agreement.

"You're a fool, Link," a cool, female voice said, "Your men stand no chance against this kind of enemy. Stand down. Do the smart thing and evacuate your citizens."

"Listen to Klaud," Cross's voice finally pitched in, and there were murmurs around the room again. He didn't seem to be very welcome here, and Lavi could only guess why. He was surprised, however, that Klaud had made an appearance. The matter had to be serious if she'd travelled all the way from Aurora in the north. She herself was a very well-known Magister.

A door nearby opened, another portal that paralleled the council chamber. It was Lenalee. Lavi's head turned, and despite the pain, his relief to see her was unmeasurable. Lenalee seemed very surprised to see him, but rushed to his side and encased him in a gentle, but very sincere hug.

"What are you doing out of your bed, idiot?" she was crying, and her wet eyes rubbed into his shoulder. "Come on, you need to lay down."

Lavi didn't resist. He wanted badly to know what they were discussing in that chamber, exactly, but his desire and happiness to see Lenalee was far more important to him at that moment. She led him back to the room he'd awoken in, hand in hand, as if afraid he would collapse. And he did, when he reached the bed. Lenalee pulled up a chair nearby him.

"I- We- Have a lot to discuss. And I don't know where to begin." Lavi frowned, but agreed. He pointed to his throat, and made a cancelling gesture with his hand.

"You can't talk?" Lenalee guessed, almost sighing. Lavi acknowledged her with a half-smile.

"Very well. Then I will tell you everything I know," she said. "But first I..." Her hand found his, and she squeezed it tightly. "This whole mess. I thought I'd lost you." Her tears fell anew. Lavi reached up and wiped them from her eyes, giving her a warm smile.

"Ah," she sniffed. "Lavi, there's a lot to say, and not much time."

"Cross has ordered the evacuation of Westreach," Lenalee began, "But in doing so, he's been forced to explain to the council his reasons. They've been arguing for hours." She glanced wistfully back at the doorway, the sounds still carrying down the halls. "Kanda received a message hawk containing a warning that the city would soon be in danger. Lavi he said- Allen said you needed to hear- 'twenty four hours.' I'm sorry, I don't know what he meant by it. I wish you could- wait," Lenalee paused mid-thought and opened a bedside drawer, rifling around in its contents. Unsatisfied, she moved across the room and continued her search, until she made a noise of success and returned to Lavi's side with paper and quill in hand.

"Short answers, alright?" Lenalee said, handing him the quill after dipping it lightly in a spent inkwell she'd found. She was a sharp woman, but Lavi lamented that no answer was simple enough to be a considerably 'short' one.

"Cross told me what happened, after we brought you here. He said you were hit by a curse, which would have killed you, but it rebounded and you somehow ended up in that.. beastly form. But why... why did you come back? You know Cross would have had you killed."

He scribbled: Kanda

"You wanted revenge," Lenalee deduced levelly, and Lavi nodded gently. Her almond eyes cast downward. "We both thought you were dead, Lavi," she said, almost so quietly he couldn't hear it.

Plotted my death, he wrote shakily.

"It's not important right now, Lavi. We must continue. Any minute now they may have us leave. You spent time with Allen. What did he tell you?"

Another question, Lavi feared, would be impossible to answer in full. He considered how to best sum it up, but couldn't decide on what information was the most important. So, Lavi began to scratch a few lines at a time.

Allen is a demon, but a good demon,

There are others, but malign

Millennium, their patron, was summoned

Allen wishes to kill it

Lenalee absorbed his words with an understanding he didn't expect. She glanced at his wound with a certain guilt.

"I've met three of these demons, four, if you count Allen. Their names are Road, Lulu, and Tyki," Lenalee said slowly, "But Tyki killed Road. Lulu was still alive, last I saw her. But we lost her when we met up with you, Cross, and Kanda. Lavi, I..."

She took a deep breath, then unlaced one of her boots and began to remove it. Lavi watched her, puzzled. She removed the lining and scrutinised her ankles closely. She sighed in relief.

"Tyki gave me his mark- demon magic," she explained, sounding sad. Her lips quivered, "He wanted me to kill you. There was nothing I could do, Lavi I'm so sorry, I- I was under a spell, but it was so wrong-!"

Lavi sat up and pulled her into his arms as she let loose a sob. He could tell she was hurting terribly inside, but somehow, he understood. His anger subsided. So it wasn't Kanda, after all.

"It's gone?" he guessed, his voice scratchy and painful to use.

"It is," Lenalee affirmed. "But now you're hurt."

"I'm still alive," Lavi assured her, smiling despite himself. He picked up the quill again, tired of speaking, and scribbled,

We both are.

"Cross has said the wound was magical in nature," Lenalee sniffed, attempting to get back on subject. She pulled away from Lavi only slightly and wiped her red eyes with her sleeve. "He was able to remove the curse from it, but something was taken from you, and we fear Tyki might have it. It was a special blade, Lavi. I don't know what it did."

Sapped my blood, that's why I changed back, Lavi wrote.

"How do you know that?" Lenalee asked.

Special properties in blood, fascinating, explain later, Lavi wrote quickly. Then he gave himself pause. Why did that demon want his blood, specifically? Allen had told him that only his line could truly kill Millennium, but was it because of his blood- literally? That seemed bizarre, but it didn't at all sound like an impossible concept. The cogs in his mind started to turn as he realised that Allen never did tell him exactly how he was different when fighting a demon. He could absorb their spells, to an extent, but that didn't kill them, did it?

Books, Lavi hastily wrote, Need books. Anything on demons. Demon hunters. Anything. Important.

"Lavi!" Lenalee frowned, "They are evacuating Westreach! There's no time to read books!"

There is, Lavi gave her an urging expression. Without waiting for her answer, he hauled himself with effort out of the bed again. Lenalee stood.

"You're so stubborn," she said, seriously, "They're not going to let us out of the Estate!" Lavi smiled mischievously at her. She furrowed her brows at him, seeming to find that he'd been unreadable at that moment. "Alright, I'm escorting you, at least," she insisted.

Lavi found it oddly improper that a noblewoman played the role of an escort to a man she outranked, but he knew better than to argue with Lenalee. So, he allowed her to accompany him through a secret exit that lead them through a small garden in the middle of the Estate. How even the Lee family didn't seem to know about it, or refused to acknowledge it, Lavi wasn't certain. But it had proven to be useful in the past, when he'd snuck in visits to the Estate's library collection, small as it was. He'd seen every book the Lees owned, and most were about politics, literature, and tradition. He suspected Cross might have had a private collection of tomes available, but there was no way he dared enter that terrifying man's study. No, he had plenty of books in the Archives, he trusted that. It was just a matter of getting there.


Allen held his legs close to his chest, eyes wide and staring at the face of the clock. His tower was dark. Only a single candle stood between himself and his pocket watch, and he'd almost burned the entire stick of wax. Normally, he was aware of every little thing around him: every trinket, every spell book, and every jar of animal organs lining the many shelves. There were stacks of tea cups lining the walls, haphazardly sitting on one another in an impossible tilt. There were stairs coiling upward in a tight spiral leading into the pitch black levels above. Along the stairwell were countless scrolls, rolled open to reveal their contents and presumably adhering to the stone with magic. One might call the space cluttered. But none of the items mattered now. His only attention was on the clock.

The hour and minute hand lined one top of one another, both pointing at the twelve. Allen stood, seeming to take his first breath in hours.

"Out of time," he said, but he knew the voice was not his own anymore. His consciousness faded back into his mind. He stood in the Isles, face to face with his master. The being smiled, a terrifying grin.

"I've waited eons," it said. But it said no more. The being vanished. Allen knew then that his fate lie not in his own hands any longer. And he accepted that fact. He hoped his message reached Kanda in time. He hoped the man understood what he needed to do. He hoped that they would understand that he did what he must. Allen sat down again, feeling solemn. He hadn't been entirely honest with anybody. But if he was, would they have helped him? Even Allen himself didn't fully understand it, but he knew human nature; they would kill him outright if they knew Millennium was imprisoned in his mind, Cross had already demonstrated that. But only Allen seemed to understand that killing him wouldn't end the demon once and for all. It had taken him years to find a solution, and he'd gambled everything on it.

All he could do now was sit on the grassy little island in his mind, and wait for a miracle to happen.


Happy holidays, everyone!