A/N: Yes, it looks like there's a chapter 10, but don't be fooled xD That is a page of the Legions that I've mentioned in the battle that has been happening in the story thus far. It's just a reference point for me, as well as probably for you if the names don't make sense. I'll add more detail to it as I go along perhaps, adding some better description and Legion history to what I've already mentioned. Anyway, heres chapter 9. Hope you enjoy :)


Chapter Nine

An earth shattering boom caused almost everyone on Teminon Landing to stagger. Michael braced his feet apart, eyes wide and on heightened alert. He, along with most others, glanced towards the source of the boom in the Abyss.

It came from the same direction as the main battle, in the direction that Julius had flown off to. In the distance, there was a great flash of light, followed by that explosion and the shake through the air of the Abyss.

Dulled horror at such a catastrophic explosion spread through his veins like poison.

What the hell was that? He thought, gripping his staff.

What in Aion's name could have caused something so destructive?

The flickers of light from whatever destruction happened in the distance continued to flicker, followed by another massive boom, causing Michael to flinch. Only someone with the power of an Empyrean Lord could cause something like that from a distance that was too far for any to see.

Could that have been caused by the Dragon Lord Tiamat?

Concern clutched Michael's chest. Had Beralin been caught up in that blast?

That thought made Michael's face pale as the blood left the skin. Surely that did not happen. Julius promised that he would bring her back.

But wait . . . what did Julius say before he departed?

"The battle will be over soon."

What did Julius do? Was that explosion caused by him? Did he just win the battle?

Michael wanted nothing more than to wish it was so. However, no matter how much he wanted to relax back and leap up and down, hoping that Julius was right, he could not. Michael still commanded this army.

Snapping himself back to focus, realising that that short moment of distraction could well have meant they had lost the battle, he snapped out orders.

"Don't break ranks! Push back the Balaur!"

The stall from action, erupted back around him again as the Daevas were jolted back to what was in front of them.

The fighting continued. Yet Michael could notice something different. The Elyos front lines were fighting better. Less were retreating, the defences were holding and even –

Even turning into offence.

Michael perked an eyebrow up. What was going on with the Balaur ranks? Did that explosion rip their moral?

Then . . . would that mean that something went wrong on their side?

As Michael began to think through of what could be happening – as well as taking into account the probability that this could well be a trap to make the Elyos feel hope, before crushing it – a messenger knelt before him. It was one of Surion's.

"The Balaur are retreating! Surion has given the command to push them out completely!"

Michael – despite his military training – could not help but feel a small smile twitch at the edge of his lips. It took all of his power to not let it loose into a full-blown grin. Somewhere in his heart, he could feel that Julius had been right.

Already, he could begin to hear the great roar of battle grow louder with determination. The fearful and worried expressions of the Elyos transformed into the same determination of their new battle cries, filled with the strength of their land and the desire to protect it at all costs.

Michael nodded and turned. "Follow Surion's command! Give chase to the retreating Balaur as far as the fifth ring! Push them out! But don't go any further. Keep in mind this could still be a trap! A surprise attack could be pending!"

The nearby sub-commanders shouted their agreement, and despite everyone's better judgement, grins began to break out amongst the ranks, fighting with a new strength that they did not know they possessed.

A good portion of Michael wanted to cheer as they did, but he knew he could not relax. The battle was not over, and he would not rest until his Brigade General and Centurion returned safely.

More hours passed. Michael and Surion directed half of the army to pursue the retreating Balaur to cut down as many as possible before they all completely escaped, taking down as many Dedgion Ships as they could. The remaining half stayed behind at their respective rings, catching the Balaur who fell behind, and to stay put to defend Teminon in case the Balaur retreat had indeed been a trick.

Michael's heart pounded with adrenaline, still just as strong as the moment when Surion sent the message that their enemies were retreating, hinting that they had attained victory.

But at what cost? Despite Michael's optimism, it did make him wonder how were they able to repel the battle-thirsty Fifth Dragon Lord when not even a Seraphim Lord commanded the Elyos ranks.

Well, at least it should mean that we've cleared up our reputation for stupidity and trouble-making, a small voice within Michael's mind chuckled. No one would ever question our Legion on anything.

Something caught his attention from a somewhat quieter part of the Landing, near the buildings and Michael's attention immediately snapped to it.

It was a silent figure on white wings. It only took a split second for Michael to recognise who it was. He took it in a second.

Julius's wings faded from his back, his expression was controlled, but Michael saw what lay behind the eyes; an expression of well concealed rage, horror and hate. Michael's gaze dropped to the figure the Pureblood held effortlessly in his arms.

An unconscious and bloodied Beralin lay in his firm yet gentle grip.

Michael's eyes widened, almost feeling his heart stop at seeing his friend in such a state. The horror washed over his face. He stared at the two, at Beralin.

Of course he had seen her bloodied and a mess plenty of times from previous missions where things did not always go according to plan. But he had never seen her injured, unconscious, and with an expression beyond exhaustion all at once. Separately, yes; but never that combination combined.

He could barely feel her aura.

His gaze turned back up to Julius, his eyes asking the question that his frozen lips could not mouth.

What happened?

Julius closed his eyes briefly, before meeting his gaze again. Michael could not see any answer in those emerald eyes. They were unreadable.

The Pureblood gently indicated his head to a side entrance as he began to turn that way.

"Is that Lord and . . . and Lady Atherton?"

Michael turned to look behind him. Helena – General of the Guiding Light Legion – had been with him as he was directing the chase and temporary mobilisation. The warm-hearted Daeva's face wore an expression of confusion and growing horror mingled with concern. Her eyes held the same question as Michael's.

He turned to her, his expression straining slightly behind the control. "Helena, do you mind taking over for a moment?"

It took her a few moments to bring herself back under her composure and she smiled gently, nodding. "I'll be fine. Go. You'll need to heal her as quickly as possible."

Michael gasped her shoulder in thanks, before he strode towards the door that Julius had used. He followed his leader's general flow of Aether until he came into a simple relief room with a few beds for recovery.

Julius was just laying Beralin down on one of them.

"Holy Aion!" Michael swore as he burst into the room, finally seeing Beralin close up. Her leather armour was ripped and burned; her skin was slashed and covered in dirt and blood; her skin was paler than usual, hair matted with that same blood in a mess around her head and shoulders; her expression was not peaceful. It was beyond exhausted.

"What the heck happened?" Michael practically demanded, moving to Beralin's other side immediately and hovered a glowing hand above her body, running down her length from head to toe, assessing the damage quickly so he could begin healing quickly.

Her state was not good, that was for sure. Bones were broken, various ligaments and tendons had been ripped or snapped. Muscles were bruised and bleeding. Not to mention on the surface there was more red than white.

Michael cast some instant healing spells, enough to only just stabilise her body internally, and glanced back up at Julius when the man gave no reply.

"Julius –!" Michael began with the tone of dismay and anger filled with the demand, 'how could you allow this to happen to the one person who is most precious to you?'

However, Michael cut himself off as that one glance up at the Sorcerer caused him to look back up again with wider eyes and a pause.

Julius was paler than usual, one hand against the rail of the head of the bed, leaning as if tired and his eyes were focused only on Beralin.

Just this once, Michael saw a different side to Julius. He saw just a simple man, a man who had fallen silent with fear of almost losing the most important person to him. And that would have almost happened if Beralin had been captured by the Balaur.

There was undeniable guilt in those emerald eyes. Guilt and sorrow.

Michael's expression softened and he shook his head once, turning his attention back to Beralin and healing. "Never mind," he said softly. "Now is not the right time to explain."

Julius's gaze flickered back up to Michael.

"But I need to know if it is safe for the troops to return to the rings and repair them," Michael said with a questioning tone. "Have we really attained victory?" He added quietly.

It was a while before Julius replied, watching carefully as the various wounds began to stabilise and heal. He only nodded once. "Yes," he said gently. "This battle goes to us. Tiamat has indeed fallen back to Balaurea."

The surge of relief and triumph that went through Michael's body would have been stronger if he had not been so worried instead. Even if they had won, Julius did not look happy, and it was no surprise. Victory or defeat meant nothing to him if Beralin was in the picture.

"That explosion. Was it the flagship?"

Again, another long silence.

"Yes," Julius said.

Michael watched him for a while, half expecting him to elaborate on how the flagship had gone up with such a blast, and if it had been Beralin's work or his. But Julius said nothing more, his expression once again, unreadable.

Michael sighed internally. He had to be patient like his leader. Eventually the answers would come to him, but until then, Michael would have to wait and concentrate on the tasks at hand.

His jaw clenched and he cast another healing spell. They were not taking very good hold in Beralin's body.

He called a Daevic Scout to the room. The woman bowed immediately in their presence.

"Send a message to Surion and Amia. Tell them that Lord and Lady Atherton have returned, and if possible, have Amia return to the Landing," Michael told her.

Despite being a Chanter of great skill in buffing, healing and combat, a Cleric was still ideal when it came to healing and Amia was the best healer in the Legion. Michael needed her to come back and take over. And even though Michael wished he could stay and aid in the healing, he still had to return to ordering the clean-up of the battle's aftermath.

He could not quite work out why his spells were not holding as effectively as they should. And with so much on his mind at once, even Michael was struggling to keep focused.

He needed Amia here.

The Scout nodded. "Understood," she said sternly, rose, and left without a second, curious glance at Beralin or Julius.


A number of hours had passed since the Balaur retreat. Surion and Amia stayed in the rings, sending others to go the outer rings to begin repairs of the defences.

Amia was exhausted, but she tried as hard as she could to not let it show. No matter what, her exhaustion could not be visible. She kept looking to Surion for strength, taking his example of sturdiness as her own. It was understandable for him though. He was a Gladiator of great strength and stamina.

Even after all the fighting, he still stood tall and strong, bellowing out orders with a voice as loud as since the beginning of the battle. The little Cleric partly envied Surion's great strength. Indeed he was an incredible commander, like Michael. They worked so well together even though the two were commanders of different sorts.

From the rings that centred around Amia and Surion, Amia was in charge of the healing. Even though the Balaur had retreated, the adrenaline kept roaring through her blood-stream, not giving her a moment to rest and take note of how heavy her chain armour was on her small body. The weight never bothered her usually as she was used to it after decades of training. She knew though that as soon as she had the chance to sit down, it would feel like a mountain weighed down upon her shoulders.

She had her mace clipped back to her belt and had set down her shield somewhere safe now that she no longer had to carry it. That was definitely an extra weight which she did not want to have on her back at the moment.

Amongst the chaos of healing broken Daevas, Amia still cast wary glanced out into the Abyss towards the dissipated source of the explosion. The rumour was that it had indeed been the destruction of the flagship, and Amia being Amia, had leapt up and down in glee with a cheer.

Beralin had been successful in her mission!

The relief in Amia's heart had been overwhelming. She could do almost nothing but fret with fear as soon as word was discovered that Lord Tiamat led the attack on Teminon Landing. She had almost been struck down from behind when that news came out, too distracted with the horrifying realisation to notice her surroundings.

Surion had defended her.

"Focus Amia! I can't afford to have you taken down so early in the battle! Not to mention Michael would never let me hear the end of it!" Surion had yelled.

"But what about Bera? Where is Bera?" She had almost whimpered back at the top of her lungs.

Surion had given her a firm look that did not tolerate weakness, and it gave Amia strength. "Trust in Bera, wherever she is. She has her own purpose in this like the rest of us, and we can only succeed if we stick to our roles. So concentrate on your duty!"

Amia blinked back to reality as she finished casting a group healing spell. She snorted very gently to herself.

Surion had never been gentle with words. And a lot of people hated him for his bluntness and straight-forwardness. However, behind all that was a very clear message that gave people around him strength, determination, courage and confidence. He was someone that anyone could rely on, whether it was something as stupid as pulling off a prank at Sanctum to chaos and havoc, or directing such a massive battle to defend the whole of Elysea.

After that, Amia forcefully swallowed her fear and worry down, feeling them sink like rocks into her stomach, and had carried on with her duty just as Surion had ordered. She was thankful that he had verbally slapped her. It focused her mind, concentrating on her task, and it was a task that needed every ounce of concentration.

Of course though, she did feel a little sulky at having a friend treat her in a harsh manner, but that was just Surion. Hot-headed, direct, and humorous in many ways.

Amia continued to direct the Clerics and Chanters and Musicians to the groups that needed healing and support, shouting in her high voice and pointing from group to group. Surion was no too far away from her. They still stood strong. They could not show their tiredness. Even if the Balaur had retreated, there was still another half of work to be done. Fighting was the first half. Clearing up was the second.

Another Daeva came up to her, a Scout.

"Commander Surion, Amia," the Daeva breathed deeply.

Amia turned to her and smiled. "Yes?"

Surion turned from where he was, raising an eyebrow.

"I have a message from Commander Michael," the Scout said, leaning a little closer so that her voice could be hushed.

Amia's eyes widened, as well as feeling the usual flutter in her heart from hearing Michael's name. And having the 'Commander' title in front of it made her legs feel strangely wobbly. She knew what it was and she smirked internally at herself for being a pansy.

Surion strode over. "What news from Michael?"

"Lord and Lady Atherton have returned to Teminon Landing. Michael asks if Amia could return as well," the Scout informed them.

Amia gasped a little, while Surion stiffened ever so slightly beside her.

Beralin and Julius were back?

Glee exploded in Amia's heart, followed very quickly by sudden concern. Why did Michael call Amia back?

She looked up at Surion and he frowned, thinking silently. Until he then nodded, his expression softening slightly.

"Go," he said to Amia, nudging his head in the direction of the Landing. "I think you're needed back there more than here."

Amia turned to face him. "Will you be alight to manage here?" She asked, feeling some guilt taint her words. She did not like to leave when in the middle of something, having to let her friends take over her burdens and duties. But she also desperately wanted to go back to the Landing, feeling dread gnaw at the pit of her stomach.

Surion chuckled and clapped her on the shoulder. It sent her a step forward from the weight of his hand, something that he seemed to be oblivious to no matter how many times she and Beralin had told him.

"I'll be fine. I can take things from here," he said. "Now go. You don't want to keep Michael waiting."

Despite the hell they had all been through in the past few days, Surion still said that last utterance with a cheeky waggle of his eyebrows.

Amia scowled, grabbed her mace and gently thwacked him around the head with it, gentle enough to not crack his skull, but hard enough to cause him to yelp and press a hand to the side of his head.

"You deserved that! Hmph!" Amia harrumphed. And with that, she turned on her heels with her nose held high and stalked away with the Scout, casting to spell to take them back to Teminon Landing a moment later.

She materialised at the Obelisk of Teminon, surrounded by Daevas dashing to-and-fro with messages or materials or anything, rushing from place to place as the previous fighting turned into repairs.

"Where are they?" Amia asked the Scout.

The Scout pointed. "In that building, downstairs on the east side."

Amia nodded her thanks and dashed towards the white building, frowning as she hurried. The underground rooms were very quiet and secluded. Why would Michael, Julius and Beralin be down there out of sight?

Amia's chest began to tighten. She did not have an entirely good feeling about this. What damage had Tiamat done to her best friend?

The little Cleric weaved in between the Daevas that always seemed to tower over her to her greatest regret. She was always getting teased about her height. Yet secretly, she somewhat enjoyed the attention, especially from Michael, even though he infuriated her.

She entered the building, hurrying down the corridor and stepped down the stairs as quickly as her little legs would allow her, following the two enormous Daevic presences of Julius and Michael. However, she could barely feel Beralin's . . .

"Michael!" She called as she turned left at the crossroads and burst into the empty recovering room.

Two heads looked up upon her entrance. One was Julius, standing on the other side of the occupied bed with an expression that was unreadable, yet it chilled Amia's skin to ice, as well as caused a strange constricting pain in her chest around her heart.

The other side had Michael on a chair with his back to the door. He was still clad in his full chain armour too and he glanced behind briefly. His expression was exhausted, as well as rife with concern, slight confusion, and now upon seeing Amia, it was relief. It brought a gentle happiness to Amia to see his expression change like that upon seeing her.

"Amia, thank Aion you're here," he exhaled explosively. His glowing hands hovered over the third motionless figure.

A bloodied and torn Beralin was the focus of the two men's attention. She was unconscious, and Amia let out a strangled cry of shock and horror.

"What happened?" She whispered, moving to Michael's side, dragging her eyes up from her best friend for a moment to look at the other two, her eyes filled with the desperation to know how this happened.

Michael did not look up, keeping his focus on the healing. His silence had Amia glance down at him briefly. What did that silence mean? That he did not know?

She returned her big blue eyes to Julius.

"She was forced to fight Tiamat," he said quietly.

Amia felt her heart drop into her stomach. "But that is madness!"

Julius's eyes flashed up to hers. "What choice did she have? She was sent to assassinate their Commander. No one knew that the Balaur Commander was the fifth Dragon Lord, neither did she, until she met the Lord on the flagship."

There was a sting to his words, subtle, yet enough to make Amia flinch. However, she knew that his internal and seething anger was not directed at her dim question, but at the ones in Sanctum who had ordered Beralin to carry out this mission.

But it was not their fault either. No one knew who the Balaur Commanders were until it was too late. At least it explained the enormous scale of the enemy fleet.

Only such a leader could direct an army of that size. But even though Beralin was a Pureblood of excellent skill, so much so that she had yet to die, Beralin was still a Daeva, not an Empyrean Lord, or even on the same footing as Julius. To fight a Dragon Lord himself . . .

Amia felt the blood drain from her face, beginning to fully grasp just how close Beralin could have been captured or worse – Displaced for eternity.

The horror of it sunk in. If Beralin had been captured, then all of them – Sudryl's Sword – would do everything in their power to get her back. But Displacement was something that even the Empyrean Lords could not heal.

Amia gulped. Her mouth was dry. Beralin had come so close to it, yet Julius had managed to save her somehow. Even though she was unconscious and injured, covered in blood and dirt, her best friend was still alive.

Amia sucked in a shuddering breath. And clenched her fists.

"What can I do?" She asked firmly from behind the quiver in her voice.

"You are the superior healer of the Legion. I need you to take over healing," Michael said. "I'm too stressed to try and work out why my spells aren't as effective as they normally are. They can't seem to take a firm enough grip in Bera's body so their effectiveness is only half or less of what it should be."

Amia frowned, immediately thinking through all the decades of learning, recalling scrolls of knowledge from her speciality, ranging from the basics of when she had first Ascended, to now where her knowledge was of some of the most advanced.

Michael looked back up at her. "Can you?" He asked gently. She could see in his eyes that he was stumped, as well as concerned about a thousand things at once. She knew that he also had to return to directing the repairs on the defences with Surion and the other Generals.

She nodded quickly, taking Michael's place on the seat as he stood and she sat down. Instantly she threw a hand over Beralin, a rippling blanket of light stretching over her body like a narrow, oval-shaped dome and Amia placed both of her hands against it.

"Thank you, Amia," Michael said softly, placing a hand against her back. That one, kind touch calmed her heart and nerves, and a gentle smile touched her lips.

She did not take hers eyes off Beralin, but from the corners of her eyes she saw Michael straighten.

"I will go back directing the repairs on Teminon," he said.

Julius nodded. "I will join you later once I can be sure Bera has stabilised enough."

"Alright," Michael said, before striding out of the room.

Amia returned her focus to Beralin, taking a deep breath, and closed her eyes, seeing with the strands of her magic that sunk through Beralin's body, layer by layer, assessing the damage that had been done. Bones were broken, tissues, ligaments, muscles and tendons had been torn. Some of them were healed to the basics with Michael's magic, but they were not in as good condition as Amia had been expected of Michael's magic.

She felt her brow crease as she analysed deeper, wondering why that was the case. Normally in healing, the magic clung to the tissues that were in need, for the tissues and bones had their own calling, drawing any healing towards it like opposite magnets. Like the positives and negatives in the atoms and electrons that the Engineers were most knowledgeable in.

However, in Beralin's body, instead of her tissues being the positive or negative, it was more like they were neutrons. It had no pull or push, therefore Michael's healing was not drawn towards it as well as it should have been.

Amia's eyes opened in shock.

"What is it?" Julius asked, concerned.

Amia blinked, narrowing her eyes and her hands slowly waved up and down across the dome. "I've only seen this is very rare cases. The tissues are not drawing on the healing magic because they are too drained to have a pull anymore. It explains why Bera has such a weak aura now. There's barely any energy left in her."

She saw Julius's shoulders sink. "She used too much power," he said, his voice barely audible.

Amia glanced up at him briefly, wanting to stand and place a reassuring hand on his arm, but she could not. Instead, she said, "It should be fine though. I can heal her, but it will take a while. I'll heal her enough so that she is stabilised, then it may be a good idea to move her back to Elysea for the rest."

Julius nodded in agreement. "That is what we will do."

She continued to heal, still frowning. This sort of state was only ever brought about as Julius said, if the user used an immense amount of power and energy to drain them to a state where their Daevic signature had diminished so much it was barely noticeable anymore.

The faint flash and eruption of the explosion of the flagship flashed in her mind's eye, causing her gaze to narrow. If Beralin was drained to such an extent, then did that mean that she used so much energy against Tiamat and the flagship that she really did cause its destruction? Or was it Julius who caused that explosion?

"Do you know what happened on that flagship, Julius?" Amia asked quietly. "Was it you who destroyed it? Or Bera?"

Julius remained silent for a while. "Bera was responsible for its demise," he finally said. "But it was Tiamat who destroyed it."

Amia let those words sink in. True, an Assassin did not have that firepower. Only someone as destructive as Tiamat could. What trick did Beralin use to get Tiamat to destroy his own ship?

She glanced at Julius quickly. His eyes were on Beralin.

Something did not seem quite right though. The condition that Beralin currently had had only ever been recorded in those that used Aether directly, such as the Sorcerers, Spirit Masters and Clerics, as they used the Aether in such a way to create energy to have some ethereal effect. An Assassin rarely used that as it is was not in their skills as much.

So what on earth did Beralin do exactly?

Her chest felt tight. Amia had the feeling that there was more to the story than what met the eye. And Julius . . .

She looked at him again.

Even though we are his friends and subordinates, even if he did know . . . he will not tell us, her heart whispered.

She looked down at Beralin. She would have to wait until her friend woke up to ask her.

But . . . would Beralin remember?

Amia had not failed to notice her friend's lack of memory every time after such massive events. What was really going on between Julius and Beralin?

It was a question that occasionally played on Amia's mind – with no answers to it.


It was another few hours before Amia had managed to stabilise Beralin's body and weak aura. When that stage was reached, Julius gave the next set of instructions.

Amia was teleported back to Orien, to his manor with Beralin, where Amia then continued the healing in a more comfortable environment and where it was much safer.

Julius took overall command after that of Teminon's repairs and the reinforcements of all five defensive rings. He sent Legions and squadrons all over Elysea to check the states of affairs in the different cities and towns to the smallest of villages, ensuring that no Abyssal Gates had opened that may have let Balaur and/or Asmodians into their lands.

Amia stayed with Beralin over the days, and over those same days, the Daevas continued restoration and scouting. Nothing was left out under Julius's watchful gaze.

And every now and then, Amia felt that little bubble of happiness and respect for Julius and Beralin when he came to check on her during the rare few breaks he had.

He cared a lot, so much so that Amia liked to tease Beralin about it. Still though, it made Amia feel slightly envious. Such relationships and care were rare. And that was what made it so adorably beautiful for Amia.

She felt lucky, lucky that she was in a Legion where her superiors were both incredibly powerful, and also caring, with the teamwork that had allowed them all to survive the battle that could well have been turned into a massacre if one thing went wrong.