Author's Note: I hate writing action. Everything could be a lot better, but I refuse to work on it any more ;P

On rewrites: I've made some significant changes to the Prologue, Return to Gaea (ch. 2), and Broken Bonds (ch. 4). Nothing that changes the overall plot, but the characterization is much different and much better. I'd love for you to read them again, but you don't need to if you just want to see what happens next ;)

-

The Last Night of the World

Chapter 9

Descent of Madness

-

Van ran to the Guymelef enclosure, holding his arms over his head to shield himself from the hail that mercilessly pelted his back. Why is it hailing now, all of sudden? Maybe it has something to do with Hitomi's vision. He reached the shelter of the enclosure, and he watched the hail fall, a rain of pebbles and ice, from the safety of the doorway. In any case, it can't be a good omen.

He headed deeper into the enclosure where Escaflowne was kept. The dragon armor stood in resplendent Ispano white, the green jewels that graced the shoulders and cockpit catching the dim light of the enclosure. As Van came closer, the facets of the energist chamber on the chest began to glow softly. That was odd—it rarely did that on its own. And when it did, it usually heralded the beginning of some strange and dramatic event. Van approached carefully, mentally probing the structure of the Guymelef. Nothing seemed out of place. The energist chamber continued to glow dull red.

There was nothing to do but to keep going. The control chamber opened on his command, and he settled himself inside. He inserted his arms into the sockets that controlled Escaflowne's arms and threaded his fingers through the hollow fingerholds which seemed like they were made to just fit his hands. He closed his hands around the metal bars that connected him to the levers and gears of the dragon armor's skeleton and hooked his feet under the stirrups of the pedals. The chamber lock secured itself across his chest, and Van reached out with his mind and felt the gears catch and turn as he took a step forward, the pistons hissing as they churned back and forth. Escaflowne's body is my body. Escaflowne's pain is my pain. No longer the pain of war, but the pain of…

Of what?

The uncertainty of Fanelia's fate was an empty hole in his heart that gnawed away at him. All because he was a coward. The captain went down with the ship, but the king of Fanelia couldn't even stay behind to witness the destruction of his country. Even Prince Chid had watched as Freid burned. But as Fanelia fell to the wrath of nature, Van had turned on his tail and fled under the guise of needing to reach Asturia quickly. He marched irritably through the enclosure, his armored steps stamping more loudly than he intended. Asturia's fight was his fight. He would not turn his back and run this time.

When he reached the doorway, he halted and peered out from the grill of his face shield. The hail was still coming down and showed no signs of letting up. The ground was covered with a thick layer of icy rock. Footing would be treacherous in these conditions.

Van noticed that his Guymelef was the only one that had been mobilized out of the entire enclosure, which held several platoons. Was it possible that King Aston did not believe them when Van and Allen confronted him with the news of Hitomi's vision? The king had consented to provide the necessary forces to counter this threat; yet in this section of the city, the cluster of melef enclosures remained quiet, and the only person who had stirred was himself. What the hell is Aston playing at? he wondered, scowling.

He guided Escaflowne outside, the hailstones crunching and scattering beneath his feet. Hitomi's vision was the strangest one yet, that was true, but ever since Hitomi had first arrived on Gaea, Van had discovered that anything could be possible. Invisible Guymelefs and fate-determining machines. Atlantis and the Mystic Moon. Visions and the power of wishes.

The hail continued to fall, bouncing off Escaflowne's hull in dull metallic thunks, a stampede of rock and ice. The humid summer air had cooled to a heavy, stifling chill, against which Van's loose, sleeveless shirt proved defenseless. The cold had worked its way into Escaflowne's armor, too. The metal tips of the fingerholds were like small, frozen weights on his hands and the wide rings that encased his shoulders seemed to radiate an icy aura of their own

He shivered. It was not just the cold. Hitomi's words still rang in his head: "Van, you might die! I saw it! You might die!"

What did she see? he wondered as he scanned the street in front of him. Why wouldn't she tell me?

The hail was coming down so thick that he could barely make out the outlines of the buildings lining the street. The sky was as dark and steely as a winter afternoon. But for the clattering of hailstones on clay tiles and cobblestone, the city was quiet. Van shifted nervously and reached behind his back to grasp the hilt of Escaflowne's sword. The only thing worse than the knowledge of an attack was the calm before the strike.

There was a noise behind him, something heavy dragging through the ice. Van whirled around, his massive sword at the ready. He waited, hardly breathing. He could hardly see through the hail. Where was it? Where was it going to strike? Would he be able to see it before it pierced his gut? Or would it crush his skull without any warning?

Then he felt a familiar pull at the edge of his mind, the feeling of something that was just out of place. Van spun around and barely caught the downswing of a huge shaft of ice where the blade of his sword met the hilt. What he saw froze him to the spot. In front of him was a creature that could have been carved out of the side of a mountain in Asgard. No, carved was the wrong word—hammered out with a huge ice pick was more like it. Its body was featureless and irregular, a misshapen hunk of solid ice with arms and legs thick as oak trees. Before Van could react, the other arm swung at him and connected squarely with Escaflowne's midsection, sending him sprawling.

At first, he could not feel his body. Then his stomach began to pulse with pain. He tried to get up, but the ice monster was on top of him. A rocky fist came down at his head, but he heaved himself to the side as it pounded a crater into the ground. He scrambled through the hailstones that covered the street like glass marbles, trying to pick himself up off the ground. He was able to get to one knee, but when he tried to stand, his foot slipped and he landed on his shoulder with a crash.

Damn! Van pushed his hand off the ground and rolled onto his back, avoiding a deadlystomp that would have punched a hole through his chest. There's no way I can fight back like this!

When the next swing came, he blocked it with the flat of his blade. Just as expected, the monster tried to counter with the other fist. But instead of dodging it, Van let go of the sword and caught the blow between both hands. The bones in his hands felt as if they would shatter, but he hung on. Enraged, the giant flung its arm around violently, attempting to shake him off. Escaflowne's legs dangled several feet off the ground as the giant whipped him around like a straw doll.

Finding steady footing was no easy task. It was all Van could do to hold on, let alone find the right time to let go. Furious at Van's tenacity, the monster flung its arm in a wide circle and slammed him into the side of a building. His head rattled from the impact as brick and stone rained down around him, and he slumped against the wall. He instinctively crossed both arms in front of him as the giant lunged at him again and was driven deeper into the wall.

Damn it…I need my sword. Where is my sword? Then he saw it, the hilt rising up like a golden beacon and the blade buried beneath the hailstones. The monster struck at Van again, but he caught its fist and held on only long enough to be pulled away from the wall. His feet skidded through the ice-strewn street, and he reached down and grabbed his sword as it passed him by. Seeing that its prey had escaped, the monster whirled around and charged. But Van was ready, and as the giant hauled its arm back to deliver another crushing blow, Van thrust his sword through the monster's chest.

The ice monster fell to its knees. The arm dropped limply at its side and its blocky shoulders shuddered in a disturbingly human way. Slightly sick to his stomach, Van tightened his hand around the hilt and withdrew his sword.

The blade was smeared with something thick and dark red. Blood? He looked at the giant's chest, from where a fountain of red poured from the wound. For the first time, he noticed a dark shadow in the middle of its chest, just underneath the ice. Is that where it's coming from? Why would an ice giant bleed?

But this was not the time to wonder. If there was one giant, there were probably more. Van waded through the streets, straining his ears for any sign of struggle. He soon came upon a hulking figure, its features difficult to distinguish through the curtain of hail. With a growl, he rushed at it with his sword, aiming for the chest.

Suddenly, something knocked his sword away and he nearly lost his grip on the hilt. The tip of a blade rushed directly at his head but veered away at the last minute, the wind of its passing making Van's hair fan out across his face.

"We're on the same side, Van," a familiar voice called.

"Allen!" Now that he was closer, Van saw the Scherazade standing in front of him, flashes of blue steel and bronze through the hail. Next to Allen lay a fallen giant, a crumpled pile of blood-drenched ice. "Where are the rest of the Guymelefs?"

"It seems that the king didn't take our concerns seriously," Allen said grimly. "It will be up to us to protect Palas until the commanders realize what's going on."

"Where did these things come from?"

"I don't know. They're mindless and predictable, but they're also fast and very powerful, so we have to watch our backs."

"Right." A siren blared in the distance, a call to arms piercing through the monotonous cascade of hail, and a cloud of smoke rose over the rooftops in the eastern part of the city. The two men lumbered toward the fray, only to be blocked off by the appearance of two more giants.

Allen brandished his sword, which had also been anointed with blood. "I'll hold off the one in front so you can slip around and take out the other one." The first giant lunged at the knight, but he swiftly parried the blow.

Van quickly ducked under Scherazade's sword and swiped at the feet of the other giant. His sword sliced at one leg, but ended up becoming lodged in the thick ankle. He managed to yank it free, but not before the giant clipped him on the side of the head. Van staggered backward, arching his back awkwardly and fighting to keep his balance on the slick street. The giant tried to strike him again, forcing him to block wildly. This wouldn't be so hard if it wasn't so slippery, he thought. I'm barely holding my own against these guys!

"Van!"

"Hitomi?" For a split second, he thought Hitomi had somehow been able to find him in the middle of the fight. But then he realized that her voice wasn't coming from any one direction. She was speaking to him in his mind, the way she did during the war when he had nearly killed Allen.

"You have to stop, Van!" she begged in urgent tones. "There are—"

Another fist that came his way, distracting him from what she said next. The monster battered relentlessly at his outstretched sword, pushing him along the street. It's like they have no fear at all, he realized. If only I can find an opening—there!

Van dodged another punch and swung his sword around, arcing down like a deadly pendulum, carving a large gash through the giant's shoulder and into the chest. Blood gushed from the wound and soaked the icy ground in deep crimson. Large drops spattered onto Escaflowne's armor, streaks of red rain on ivory.

"Please stop, Van! You can't keep fighting!"

"I am not going to run away," he swore. He pulled his arm back to remove the sword from the fallen giant, but he found that he could not move.

What the…? Pulling harder, he was only able to slide the sword out by a fraction. But at least he could do it. He strained against the hilt with all his might, and he nearly fell backwards when it suddenly gave. The giant, wounded and slick with blood, collapsed in a heap.

Then Escaflowne seemed to move on its own, slowly and laboriously, taking one step, then another, away from the fighting on the other side of the city. What the hell is going on?

Gritting his teeth, Van tried to reverse his steps in mid-stride. It took all his strength and willpower to keep his leg frozen in mid-air, refusing to take a step forward and unable to take a step back. Why wasn't Escaflowne obeying him?

"Van!" Hitomi again. "You and Allen need to stop fighting!"

With a great crash, Escaflowne planted its foot on the ground, and Van gasped from the sudden loss of control. Hitomi…Hitomi must be the one doing this!

"I am not going to run away!"

"There are people, Van. There are people inside!"

Suddenly it felt as if his limbs had turned to ice. "What do you mean?"

"There are people trapped in the ice!"

"What?" What on Gaea was she talking about? People? He didn't see any people. Van tried to turn around, but it was like pushing against an invisible wall. "What are you doing?" he growled. "Let me go!"

As he struggled against Hitomi, a pale shape began to rise from the ground. A sinking feeling gripped his stomach as he watched hailstones gather and merge, piling up and giving birth to a large, humanoid body. When the giant was fully formed, it lumbered at him like a charging bull. Van tried to defend himself, but it was like his arms were made of wood. The monster hammered a fist into Van's chest. For a minute, he could not breathe. He staggered backwards into the side of a building and his head smacked sharply against the wall. Something warm dripped down his face, a blur of red in the corner of his eye.

The giant swung at him again, and this time Van was able to block it with his forearm, but he might as well have tried to stop a battering ram with his bare flesh. A cry of pain escaped through his clenched teeth.

"There are innocent people in there!" Hitomi pleaded, sounding almost in tears. "Please, Van, take Allen and run!"

The monster's fists continued to batter his body, and he grunted with every blow. "I—will—not—run!" he said, pulling each word through teeth clenched against the pain. The blurry red in his vision grew stronger, brighter, illuminating the icy battlefield in crimson light. The dark shadow in the giant's chest became clearer, its outline sharpening and revealing a twisted shape with limbs kinked at awkward angles. The last thing he saw was a nameless face contorted in fear, the teeth bared in a feral cry, before he was taken by the red light.

-

When Hitomi collapsed in the sitting room, Millerna had been concerned. When Hitomi woke up clinging to Van as if she had seen a demon, her concern grew. Then the hail came. Now Hitomi had one of the blankets balled up in her hands, her eyes fixed and gazing off into space and looking terrified.

The men had left the room some time ago, leaving Millerna to keep watch over Hitomi and Celena. Neither of her charges said much, and the silence, coupled with the wet sound of hail hitting the ground, was unsettling. Then out of nowhere, Hitomi started to call out after Van. Millerna went from being concerned to feeling disturbed. Celena, who was sitting in a chair by the empty fireplace, apparently felt the same way. The white-haired girl gave a start every time Hitomi cried out Van's name, her fingers fitfully crumpling and tugging at the lace on the skirt of her dress. Millerna frowned. If Celena ripped the cloth, Allen would have to buy her another dress. Millerna understood that Allen's sister had suffered what no human being should experience, but there were times when she wished that Celena knew how to better appreciate what Allen endured for her. She wished that Celena would not make her feel as if she were caring for a baby tiger whose paws were soft and whose claws were sharp.

Millerna sat on the edge of Hitomi's bed and cautiously placed a hand on the blankets over the other woman's knee. "Hitomi, what are you seeing?"

"It's Van," Hitomi said, her fingers white and quivering at her lips. "He's killing innocent people!"

"What?" Millerna gasped in shock.

"There are townspeople caught inside the ice giants. He's killing them, and he's not listening to what I'm telling him!"

Before Millerna's mind could pick through what it meant for people to be caught inside giants, Hitomi started to cry out to the air again. "Van! You and Allen need to stop fighting! There are people, Van! There are people inside!"

Inside? Was she still talking about the ice giants? Millerna did not quite understand. What she did understand, however, was that Celena became more restless and agitated as Hitomi's voice grew louder and more frantic. The girl was breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring, and the fabric of her dress was taught between her hands.

"There are people trapped in the ice!"

Millerna's gaze went from Celena to Hitomi, who had one hand stiffly arched over the pendant that dangled from a gold chain around her neck. The jewel caught the light from the oil lamp on the table and gleamed bright red. At first, Millerna thought nothing of it until she realized that the room was a little too dark and the pendant gleamed a little too brightly.

"There are innocent people in there!" Hitomi's voice rose in octave and volume.

The sound of something ripping instantly drew Millerna's attention back to Celena, who had torn the entire length of her skirt. One hand clawed at the side of her head, the snow-white hair tumbling between her fingers like long, wispy strands of cotton. She breathed through her teeth, a bubbly hissing, as she rocked back and forth in the chair.

"Please, Van, take Allen and run!" Hitomi almost screamed, shrill and desperate. The pendant in her hand glowed even brighter, bathing the room an eerie red cast.

There was a crash by the fireplace. The chair had overturned, and Celena was on the ground, clutching her head between her hands. A dark line appeared on the right side of her face, drawn from the temple down the cheek, and her fingers seemed thicker and coarser than usual. A tortured wail tore from her throat.

Millerna needed to do something, so she did the only thing she could think of. Grabbing Hitomi's wrist, she yanked her hand away from the pendant and slapped Hitomi hard across the face.

-

In the city, the sirens died away, but the ice remained, a lingering reminder of the horror that had befallen Palas. The monsters crumbled to crystal dust, leaving the frozen bodies of townspeople strewn throughout the city. Most were already dead, but some still barely hung on to life. Others had been killed at the hands of the military's melef operators. Their blood stained the streets and when the people tried to wash it away, the water froze as soon as it touched the ground.

The ice giants did not come again, but more blood spilled with each passing day. People turned on each other as if possessed. The streets rang with the shouts of rioters, and the city was filled with smoke from burning buildings and the bodies of people who had been trampled underfoot. Children screamed for their dead parents, only to be cut down by those who found them. Doomsayers populated street corners and town squares, preaching the wrath of Jeture and the fulfillment of apocalyptic prophecies. After one of the king's closest advisors and his family perished during the night in a blaze that was set by a rogue arsonist, King Aston decided it was time to declare martial law in Palas. Soldiers patrolled the major thoroughfares, their Guymelefs bleak and imposing in a city paralyzed by madness and fear.

It rained. For days it rained, an icy rain that froze to the frigid ground, and when the rain stopped, it snowed. Millerna watched from the windows of the palace as her city was blanketed in cloud and ice, a dark shadow of unease descending over Palas and creeping into her soul. The city of canals had become an arctic maze, lying frozen and silent as if the heart of Asturia wished to weep but could not.