Chapter 11: Return

Rosalie Cullen stood at the head of a long steel table, countless Order members fluttering around her as they toyed with the monitors and soundboards that filled the central headquarters of the base. Her family stood besides her, too tense to sit as Malachia and Imo did, their eyes focused on the large screen facing them. Numbers and codes filled the outermost edges of the monitor, with a camera taking up the majority of the screen, almost like a first-person shooter game. The camera was attached to Aneirin, giving them view as he led a colossal squad of Order members along the trail that Nila and Ila had left in their pursuit of the Vercrian leader.

No one spoke to one another, the Cullens focused on the screen, and the Order focused on them, their new leaders in the Sanralae's absence. As the most important beings of the vampire world, the extension of the Sanralae, their new guard did not permit them to leave the compound. No one argued it; they knew that if Nila and Ila never returned, if the Sanralae perished, it would be they who would control the Order and the entire vampire world.

A deep murmur of discontent rose through the room, as the camera focused on the location that Ila and Nila headed. After climbing the steep embankment, the Order came upon the scene, and the camera transmitted the gruesome sight to all those in the room.

Bodies were everywhere, some of them humans, some magical creatures, but mostly the Vercrian. As the camera panned as Aneirin turned his body to inspect, they saw that the largest portion of the bodies were of the Vercrian, with the surviving humans and nonhumans stumbling away from their captors, dazed and confused. But their focus was thwarted by the appearance of the Order; the vampires, the werewolves, the centaurs, the shapeshifters, and every other-worldly creature present unconsciously moved toward them, the once fictional group a beacon of safety. The badge on their breasts were no longer were sketches in a fairytale; they were real.

Aneirin caught a frail-looking doe, taking her weight as she collapsed in his arms. She shifted, revealing an older woman with light sandy hair and pale green eyes, which looked up at Aneirin and the camera as if she were seeing the first light of day in years. That might have been true, as the sun was just cresting the bowl-like walls, like the first sunrise since the dawn of time in this godforsaken valley.

"They're dead," she said in a crusty voice, as if she hadn't spoken in a long time. Despite the harshness of the tone, her words were colored with surprise and hope. She indicated the Vercrian, their bodies each mangled beyond all repair.

"Did you do this?" Aneirin asked. The woman shook her head.

"They did," she said, indicating the entrance to the castle, or what was left of it. The building was teetering on the edge of collapse, the gaping hole where the entrance used to be looking like the mouth to a demon's hell. Aneirin looked up as more of the supernatural creatures approached, all in their own individual form, but with all the same look of incredulity and awe.

"They came here and all of those things stopped to look at them, but did not attack. They went inside and soon after there was screaming and fighting. It kept getting louder and then, suddenly, the beasts started to scream. They let go of us and started to curl in on themselves. Their bodies started to tear apart, as if some invisible creature was attacking them and ripping them to shreds. But it all happened at once." The woman's story sounded absurd, but Aneirin could see in every eyes of the creatures before him that it was a hundred percent true. He looked toward the humans, who all seemed to have fallen where they stood.

"And the mortals?" Aneirin continued his interrogation, feeling repentant to push the poor woman, but needing answers.

"A few minutes after the bodies had been destroyed, all of their eyes went blank and starry-eyed. They wouldn't respond to anything we said or did." The women told him. Aneirin nodded, then gingerly handed her over to a younger member of the Order, who swiftly began checking her wounds.

"Ryla?" Aneirin said aloud, knowing Rosalie would hear him through the communication transmitter he had attached to his ear.

"Search the castle. Find them." Her order was simple and immediate. Aneirin delegated to the squadron behind him. Half of the team stayed behind to assist with the survivors, both helping the injured and rounding up the humans. He and the other half began to move toward the castle, swiftly but not without caution. They knew there was a good chance the Vercrian could still be hiding behind any corner. The castle's interior was gruesome and dark, a dilapidated goth-like tribute to the architecture it once was. They moved toward the singular staircase, their eyes swiveling around for any signs of life. Rosalie and the Cullens watched through the camera on Aneirin's chest, no sounds loud enough to stir. A crackling on the microphone came through to Aneirin.

"Status report," Rosalie barked into the microphone, her expression gaunt, steadfast.

"The humans are unaware. From a superficial scan by my team, it seems their memories have been erased."

Rose looked toward her family who stood at her side. All of them held the same tense expression, with a tiny glimmer of hope. Edward stood in the middle of their circle, his arms holding Iria protectively to his chest. He had no heartbeat to calm her, but she understood his presence, though every once in a while she would deliberately touch his skin, asking for her mother. Edward couldn't bare to answer her. Suddenly, there was a loud noise on the side of the camera. Aneirin swiveled in time to see the large concrete walls of the castle shaking for a moment before falling, their concrete slabs shattering as if they were glass and crumbling to dust on the ground. The floor underneath them shook as well and there was an outcry from Aneirin and his squad.

"What is going on?" Rosalie demanded into the microphone.

"One of the walls of the building is buckling. Everyone, steer clear!" Aneirin barked at his team. The camera moved forward before something dark and hard slammed into it. The screen went black with a metallic clang and the audio turned cut off for a moment. Rosalie spoke into the comms mic, asking if Aneirin could hear. There was static at the other end of the mic, buzzing in and out and the Cullens and other creatures in the room winced slightly.

"I can hear you, Ryla. The camera was shattered from a falling brick; the mic took a hit but not as bad. I am bleeding but thankfully these mics are reinforced that it should make no difference." Aneirin's voice came onto the speakers, and everyone breathed a small sigh.

"Can you continue?" Rosalie asked.

"Yes, Ryla. My team and I are searching the wreckage of the building. Stand by. I don't know how bad the audio will be." Rosalie gave her consent, and then the line went silent, except for the lower buzzing of the static. Moments went by, with everyone getting more and more anxious. Suddenly, a minute after, the static spiked, getting louder as Aneirin yelled something, but it wasn't discernible.

"Repeat," Rosalie said. No answer. She repeated her order with no response.

"Damn it," she muttered then turned toward the Order members, barking orders at them to fix the static, to get a better connection. She stopped when the static decreased steadily until it was gone. Everyone in the room listened anxiously. There was a small buzzing on the mic.

"We've got them! They're alive! I repeat, we have got them! We have Ralae and Reala!" Aneirin's voice echoed through the otherwise quiet control room. There was a beat of shocked silence before the room erupted into cheers. The Order members whooped and high-fived, hugging each other. Rosalie collapsed into the chair, feeling the need to rest for the first time in her vampiric life. Esme and Carlisle embraced their children, Esme wrapping her arm around Rose's neck to join the hug. Edward bowed his head over Iria, who was looking around, not frightened but curious about the loud sounds. If he could cry, he would have. Instead, sobs wracked his body as he pressed his lips to his daughter's forehead and prayed to the God he now believed in and was indebted to. The Cullens encircled him in a large hug, not saying anything, just taking in the news.

On the other side of the microphone, Aneirin and his team gingerly but quickly lifted their leader's bodies from the stone ground. Their heads bowed over Zakali, the mourning brief and soulful but cut short to save his body from the quickly collapsing building. Cylis held Nila against his body, shielding her from the falling rubble. Her heartbeat thudded steadily in her chest, the sickeningly large hole in his chest closing after he had pulled the silver knife out of her sternum. Aneirin moved beside them in perfect unity, Ila secured in his strong arm.

Mother and daughter were kept close, the Order knowing enough of the Sanralae to take any new phenomenon without question. But they all watched in amazement at the merging of the Sanralae's veins, the mixing of their blood, with Ila's pumping into Nila. Though such a miracle was impossible, they could not deny its reality as they watched it: the blood of the Heir of the Sanralae pumped fiercely, strongly into her mother's veins, closing her wounds, and reversing what had been done.

Hi everyone! I know it's been only been a couple of days since my update, but I wanted to complete this story for all of you. You deserve to see it to its end. This and one final chapter will complete the Neverland and Amethyst series. I hope you will bear with me for one last time. :)

Let me know what you think of this chapter and the last one! :)

~Melinda :)