I want to finish this soon. Really, really soon. So, God willing, I'm going to start churning out chapters.
So, the eleventh chapter, and onward to the end. Thank you, all of you, for the wealth of support you've given me.
It was pain. There was no softness to it, no gentleness - only pain, blurring the edges of his sight.
But easily ignored. Pain that had to be ignored, if only for her sake. He could endure, even in the sun.
The tall grasses of the field rippled in light brilliantly golden. There was beauty to this place, and the air was still and calm, cool despite the heavy sunlight. Battle city had settled over the field, cradled in the fronds of grass and the blossoms of white flowers, while its hull smoked and the smell of fire lingered hot on the breeze. The city had survived, and a part of him felt satisfied, satiated, at the sight of the city still whole, despite everything that had happened.
The dragon was not here. He could sense her in the distance, feel the vast weight of her mind. She was too concerned with the body of the Leviathan, her thoughts invested in disposing of the monster before it could become a threat once again; the Battle city hunters waited eagerly for her return, but she would not be back for hours. The hunters were stranded here, in a sea of grass and sunlight, out in the open - vulnerable. Their thoughts were loud, chaotic, full of fear.
They feared Anzu somewhat, wary of the blue-winged vampire in their midst. But the dragon trusted Anzu, and so the hunters allowed Anzu's presence; they valued the dragon's judgment, for all she was a monster.
A monster like you, came the thought, and his hand tightened over the sword. It was hard to forget with so many hunters around. Even harder to remember that he couldn't go back to those days when he'd simply been a hunter of Domino and nothing else. Now he was a hunter who desired blood - desired it so much that he could hardly bear the absolute agony of the hunger, the torment that had returned the moment he'd killed Dartz…
The fingers of his left hand jerked, and he unconsciously lifted that hand to his mouth. He remembered the taste of Dartz's blood, so different from Mai's, and the memory produced a shudder within him, a wash of cold, icy feeling tracing his spine. He wanted to lick his hand clean of the vampire's blood yet again, but it was gone, and Dartz was dead.
So there was nothing for it. He couldn't kill Dartz a second time, couldn't taste the blue-haired vampire's heart-blood over again. He could get over it, ignore the desire for now. There was no choice.
He was standing, and he couldn't remember moving. A hunter saw him, but said nothing, eyes turning from him; there were more important things, the hunter thought, than some strange, pale Domino refugee emerging from a random pool of shadow.
The grass crunched under his feet, and suddenly he recalled more of his original intent. His mother…she needed help, something that was not in his power to provide, but Anzu could.
Anzu. A spasm passed through the muscles of his sword hand, and an old emotion flooded his chest. Seeing her here, he wondered.
Where was his brother? She knew. She knew, and she would tell him. After she healed his mother. After.
The eastern edge of the deserted continent was full of resources - fresh water, game, metal ore embedded shallowly into earth. Her surviving hunters she set to locating some of those resources, and a few of her captains she positioned around the perimeter to monitor the air for vampiric threats. For herself, Vivian decided upon a break. So she stumbled around the sectors of Battle city, only half avoiding the falling debris of burnt steel, for a little stroll. Of course, though she had wanted to be, she wasn't alone.
Otogi and his pet brat Rebecca trailed her down the seared steel halls. Otogi should had retaken control as First Captain, and Rebecca should have been set down for her noon time nap (wasn't that what kids did? Take naps in the middle of the day?) but they were following her, as though she needed watching.
When Vivian tripped, nearly falling down several levels into some dark, burning hole, Otogi grabbed hold of her torso, Rebecca latching onto Vivian's arm, and they both pulled her back to relative safety. It was almost enough for Vivian to consider forgiving them, the traitors, for leaving Battle city to rot.
Well, not Rebecca. Who could keep a hold of the little snot, besides her grandfather? There was nothing to forgive Rebecca of, because everyone knew that the girl did what she wanted, and maybe it was better that she hadn't been here. Perhaps Rebecca would have died too, like her grandfather, crushed under tons of burning steel hull.
Does she know? Vivian wondered, half running into a door, which hung askew from its metal frame. It was better not to say anything, if the girl didn't. Now wasn't the time.
"We should go back," Otogi said, reaching for Vivian's shoulder. "You're burnt out."
How strange. She felt like a drunk, and her limbs quivered with embarrassing weakness, so she was sure that this feeling wasn't exhaustion. She couldn't afford exhaustion.
"You go back. You're First-Captain, despite the fact that you abandoned us." Good. Her voice hadn't shook, and she'd only slurred a bit. It couldn't be exhaustion, then.
Otogi had heard the same from her the past several hours, so the sting of her remark hadn't seemed to affect him - the first time she'd said it he had staggered back, as though someone had slapped him. But he still had yet to explain himself, yet to tell her why he had disappeared - and why he was back now, when Battle city was nothing more than a ruin.
A sharp little pain erupted in her thigh. Vivian blinked, realizing that Rebecca had pinched her, and was ready to do so again. Vivian grunted, smacking the girl's hand away.
I think I deserved that, actually, she mused, barely avoiding slamming herself into some sort of glass surface.
After a bit more of the same (Vivian running into things, falling on her face, slurring out insults to Otogi, and Rebecca's subsequent pinching) Vivian found that sitting had its merits. The floor was icy, and the surrounding cells of greenish glass were slightly terrifying in the dark, but Vivian's head was spinning, and she felt very close to vomiting her guts up.
"Creepy," she heard Rebecca murmur. "It's kind of strange that this place is still intact, isn't it, Otogi?"
"Yeah," Otogi replied. "Very strange."
Vivian flicked her eyes up, and - despite the fact that her vision was oddly cloudy, and her eyes felt very much like they wanted to cross - she saw that Otogi was gazing off in the distance, his irises glowing palely in the shadows. She blinked, turning to look herself, and, for some crazy, inexplicable reason, she realized that she could see what Otogi was seeing…the glitter of a metal staff. In the back of her mind, she remembered that Mahaado had gotten another staff commissioned, one that had been forged of high density steel. When had that been? Months ago? Weeks ago? A few days?
Vivian scrambled to her feet, nearly pitching forward on her face. Rebecca yelped at her sudden movement, and Otogi's hand flashed out, taking hold of Vivian's shoulder before she could fall. Vivian, however, kept moving, tearing toward that glint of steel like a mad woman.
Maybe I am a little bit insane. Mahaado is dead. He would have been at my side, if he wasn't -
Vivian stopped, the edge of her foot inches from an armored gauntlet. Immediately, she reached for the gauntlet (mesmerized by the deep purple color of it), her fingers brushing the cool, smooth metal. Then she wrapped her hand around it, sliding her hand down the length of the gauntlet, and over an armored arm…
The shadows parted, and she saw his face. His eyes were closed, and his tanned skin was far too pallid, and - she noticed with a grim sort of fear - there was dried blood in his hair. Without thinking, she pressed her hand to his throat. There was a pulse, weak and languid, as though he were in a deep, dangerous sleep, or a coma.
Otogi stood over her, his shadow darkening Mahaado's purple armor. "Compulsion," he said softly. Vivian had thought the same, instinctively, for Mahaado was the strongest hunter under Otogi, and for something to have laid him low without killing him was a near impossibility - not unless you counted the power of a vampire. But Vivian had never seen compulsion like this; Mahaado was alive, but if his pulse was any indication, he lingered only a few steps away from death.
"Otogi. You can break compulsion, right?" Vivian whispered, almost to herself.
When Otogi didn't answer, Vivian turned to stare at him. "Right?" she whispered again.
He returned her stare, his shining green eyes incredibly unnerving. "It's too strong, Vivian."
That was not the answer she was looking for. "You didn't even try. You have to try - "
"He already has," Rebecca said. "If he had been able to lift it, Mahaado would have come to by now."
"Then we had to move him." Vivian stood, her knees trembling weakly beneath her, and if it had not been for Otogi's hand on her elbow, she would have fallen. "One of the healers can do something." Even as she said them, Vivian knew that her words were empty, that even she didn't believe them.
"Vivian, I don't think - " Rebecca began.
Otogi cut the girl off. "We'll move him. A healer can see to him."
Rebecca blinked, her blue eyes wide behind her glasses. She looked like she wanted to say something, to argue, but then thought better of it. The girl sighed. "If we're going, we should go now."
Vivian smiled at them both. "Thank you."
I might be able to forgive them after all.
And with that thought, everything went black.
Kisara hadn't returned. Nor was she going to - Anzu could feel, deep within, that the Leviathan was still awake, was still coursing the waves of the sea with a mind bent on destruction. She feared that the connection would never disappear, but now, hours after the battle, the Leviathan's thoughts were growing fainter. It had not been the same as forging a blood-bond, as she had done with that human…Yugi…but it had been similar. The Leviathan's desires lingered within her own thoughts, and she felt the primitive hunger of the monster, the savage lust for souls and blood.
Anzu extended her wings, pushing herself from the heights of Battle city, and catching a head wind. She glided down slowly, allowing the hunters to see her form fully before she landed, her wings flaring out for good measure, and her feet sliding gently onto the tall blue-green grass.
For all of her caution, she sensed the gazes of several hunters turn upon her. There was no motion, no weapons drawn, but she could smell upon the breeze a change in the hunters' scents - the smell of tenseness, with an undercurrent of aggressiveness. They smelled like wolves woken suddenly from sleep, ready to attack at a moment's notice. Anzu kept that in mind, padding slowly, carefully, around Battle city's perimeter.
It was nothing that the hunters couldn't do themselves, Anzu knew. But Kisara expected Anzu to keep the humans safe while she chased the Leviathan; Anzu had given her word. The hunters were stretched thin, anyway - there were too many dead, too many injured, and the mortals who were still capable of fighting were few and far between. So she would lend her eyes and her senses, at least until Kisara returned.
She glanced up at the sky, which was streaked the rose and crimson and deep blue of morning, and thought of the Keep. There was no way that they could go back now. Akunadin, that filth, now had control of Kisara's Keep…and yet, Kisara had seemed unconcerned. Perhaps the threat of the Leviathan was more important, but with Dartz dead, the monster would eventually return to slumber. At least, that was what her parents had taught her when she had been a child; the Leviathan could be woken to the call of a vampire, but to sleep it would return if that vampire perished…
But she had spent long centuries without her parents, and she now knew that her parents had made their mistakes, that they had been wrong about many things. They had underestimated Pegasus - a mistake that had cost them their lives, and Anzu had been left to navigate the world alone. They might well have been wrong about the Leviathan…
I'll just have to trust Kisara. I just hope she hasn't made a mistake of her own.
The immense bladed wings of Battle city loomed ahead. As she moved into the deep shadows cast by the wings, she sensed the regard of…someone. One of the hunters, perhaps, but the feeling disappeared almost as soon as she felt it. Still, she glanced back, searching the shadows. There was nothing; only the rapid thrum of mortal heartbeats, the heavy breathing of the injured, the low murmur of conversations. Many of the healers had moved the wounded here, beneath the city's wings, rather than risk the hazards of Battle city's interior.
Anzu kept her distance, scanning the area - besides the healers with their injured, and some hunters surreptitiously hidden in the pools of shadow, she noticed nothing amiss.
That was, until Rebecca barreled into her.
"Anzu, Anzu! You have to help us!"
"Rebecca," Anzu said, fighting to breathe around the girl's iron grasp. "What's wrong?"
"It's one of our lieutenant captains - he's been put under compulsion," Rebecca said breathlessly. " I just thought that maybe…maybe you could lift it, Anzu?"
"Rebecca…I don't…"
"Please, Anzu?" The girl gazed at her with wide eyes - the effect magnified behind her glasses.
She did not even bother fighting. Rebecca, so innocent, so guileless, looking like a tiny, needy puppy…Anzu could not bear to even think of denying her, though she knew that she could do nothing. Absolutely nothing. But she would try, though her efforts would be futile; she would do it for Rebecca.
The girl led her gently, fingers wrapped so trustingly over Anzu's wrist. And Anzu wondered; wondered if Rebecca would look at her with disappointment, with disgust, when she was unable to lift the compulsion over this lieutenant captain.
Better not to think about it. Anzu couldn't remember the moment she had succumbed to this - to this desire to please this human girl, who had somehow, somehow, become her friend.
There was the bright glow of light - not sunlight, but a light that was amber and brilliant and penetrating. That light hovered over the form of a hunter, still garbed in armor, laying prone on a makeshift stretcher. Otogi stood close, his gaze riveted on the single healer - a mortal with tanned skin and the eyes of a vampire.
Both looked to Anzu as she approached. Otogi's face remained expressionless, and Anzu had to refrain from speaking to him mind to mind; Rebecca would hear, and the healer, human though she looked, perhaps possessed enough vampire blood to overhear as well.
"You're Anzu," said the healer, regarding Anzu with an intense stare. "Kisara has…told us about you."
Good things, I hope, Anzu thought as she drew nearer. The healer remained calm - there was no quickening of her heartbeat, nor was there the scent of fear. A good sign; the healer was not afraid of Anzu, and that would make things somewhat easier.
"Rebecca requested my assistance," Anzu said slowly. "I would like to offer my help in whatever way possible."
"She's a full-blood, Ishizu," Rebecca added, as though the healer couldn't discern that Anzu was a true vampire. But then, what with Otogi, perhaps Rebecca felt the distinction was needed. "Maybe she can help where you…you know…" Where you've failed, were the unspoken words.
Ishizu's eyes flickered slightly, before she beckoned Anzu with a flick of her tanned fingers. Anzu obeyed, and without a second thought, she lowered herself into a half crouch, spaying out her wings for balance. A touch of her hand over the unconscious hunter's forehead revealed what Anzu had expected - a compulsion woven so tightly, so intricately, that she didn't dare to attempt to dispel it.
But the hunter, at least, was stable. Stable enough for Anzu to try something rather foolish.
She gazed sidelong at Ishizu. "I need you to keep his heart beating. If it stops, even for a moment, he'll die and there will be no way to revive him."
The healer nodded. She waved a slender hand over the hunter's armored chest, and the points of amber light, like obedient fireflies, flew down to hover close to the hunter's vitals.
Anzu regarded the tiny spheres of light warily. Ishizu's power…healing power. Interesting. Anzu was suddenly reminded very strongly of vampiric energy; Ishizu was mortal, but there was more than enough vampiric influence in her blood, it seemed.
But there was no sense in wasting time contemplating that - and so Anzu leaned in, gaze focused intently upon the artery pulsing in the hunter's neck, the first small vestiges of hunger burning in the back of her throat…
A hiss. That was all the warning she had, before the world dissolved into chaos.
There was the sound of Ishizu's sharp intake of breath, coupled with the shriller sound of Rebecca screaming - and then both suddenly went silent. Anzu's gaze snapped up, and she saw the insidious flash of a sword, the glow of a vampire's eyes in the dark. Otogi was up, wings flaring out, moving fast as quicksilver - he was fighting, but the man had no weapon against the sword, and was being pushed back, forced to give ground.
Rebecca and the healer had slumped over, unconscious. Anzu pushed herself to her feet, opening her own wings, anticipation surging in her veins - a vampire. This was a vampire attacking them, a vampire who had somehow slipped into Battle city without the hunters noticing.
A hand caught Otogi by the throat, and suddenly he was down, slammed violently to the ground. And that sword rose, its glittering point mere inches from Otogi's heart. It would kill him, because that was a hunter's sword, and even Otogi, with his vampire blood, wouldn't survive being stabbed by a hunter blade…
Anzu found herself moving, lunging forward, her fingers closing over the sword hilt. This was the first time she had dared enter a fight in nearly a century; the Leviathan certainly didn't count, since that had been less of a fight and more of a desperate bid for survival, but she had learned from it. Never stay in one place, especially if your opponent was a monster who could devour you without a second thought -
She attempted to wrench the sword away, her wings simultaneously sweeping down, producing a gust of air. Anzu managed to force the point of the blade away from Otogi's heart, but before she could shift herself away, something took a hold of her wrist, and held it in an iron, unbreakable grip.
And Anzu saw the face of her opponent. Palely silver vampire eyes glittered at her - eyes like Ishizu's, but before these eyes Anzu went still, terror and confliction seeping into her blood. Ishizu wasmortal, but Anzu's opponent was not, because he was casting compulsion over her, a compulsion that calmed her rapidly beating heart, and soothed her fearful thoughts.
But it wasn't enough to hold her. Anzu was no stranger to compulsion, so rather than allow herself to be soothed, she turned instead to anger. Anger was easy enough to embrace, because she felt it welling uncontrollably inside of her the longer she gazed upon his face…
"You're not him." Her voice held steady despite everything. "You're not him," she repeated, and the grip over her wrist tightened.
But she felt it, the blood bond. She had not felt it before, not for days and weeks, but she felt it now. And Anzu couldn't comprehend it - the Yugi of her memories had been gentle in all things, easily manipulated, and far, far removed from being a cold-hearted killer.
Not to mention that Yugi had no vampire blood. She would have known, she would have sensed it…
"Come with me," her opponent said with Yugi's voice. "Come with me, Anzu."
It was him. Anzu couldn't reconcile the gentle Yugi of her memories with this Yugi - the one who had tried to kill Otogi - in her mind, but she knew. And if she went with him, Otogi would be safe, and so would Rebecca and Ishizu -
He smirked slowly. "I won't hurt them if you come. I promise."
Everything was upside down. Yugi the mortal, the same Yugi who was her tool…was no longer mortal, and was now using her.
But Anzu acquiesced, because she could see no better way to protect the humans - and Otogi - from this man.
I hope Kisara comes back soon, Anzu mused grimly. Because I don't think I can take any more insanity.
He was not a murderer. He was not a murderer, and that thought had stayed his hand, mere minutes before. Killing the innocent had no purpose - it was wrong, it was evil. They had only been in the way, those three; that girl Rebecca, who reminded him a little of Mana, the healer Ishizu, who did nothing but extend herself to save the lives of others, and the hunter Otogi, who was the true ruler of Battle city, a man whose thoughts had been filled with the desire to protect. It had taken all of his restraint not to kill the dark-haired, green-eyed man - a man who was a half-blood, a dhampir, but a hunter at the core. But it had been close. If Anzu had not intervened, things would have gone far differently.
Anzu. She kept her distance, remained always a few paces behind him. He felt her wariness, the perpetual anxiety of her mind. She was still worried that he would go back on his word - that he would attempt kill the humans and the dhampir despite her obedience. There was no use trying to calm her, either; she had blocked out his mind, and he had no hold over her. But that didn't matter, because it wasn't necessary to control her - she was going to help him of her own free will. And that was better than forced obedience.
He remembered his own forced obedience. The long years of his childhood, when he had obeyed his mother without thought, believed every word that had come out of her mouth - that he was a worthless monster, useful only as a shield to protect Atem, and little else. He had had no other choice but to believe her; she, along with the Council, knew the truth of his blood, the taint that was on it, and they had had power over him, the power to kill him, if they had so wished. But his mother hadn't given the order - and in exchange for his life, he had willingly sacrificed himself for Atem, for Domino.
He had given too much. Domino was in ruins and Atem was missing; his sacrifice had been for nothing.
Anzu suddenly inhaled sharply. It was because of the blood - blood that was not fresh, but the smell of it was hot, nearly overpowering; glancing sidelong at her, he saw her tense, the pupils of her eyes shrinking.
His mother lay on a tattered infirmary bed - one that had been dragged out of Battle city, along with several pieces of still-intact healing machinery. Ishizu had seen to it that she had some measure of comfort; warm blankets covered her, and a pillow - slightly singed by fire, but relatively clean and soft-looking - was propped beneath her neck.
Yugi went to her. She was awake, and at his approach, her eyes flickered to his face.
"Atem," she whispered, her gaze searching his features. "You're Atem."
He saw no need to deny her. She wanted his twin - and so he would be Atem, for her. "Yes." He took her hand, felt the icy coldness of it, and his fingers clenched tight over her fingers.
"I don't…how are you here?"
"It doesn't matter," he said. "I wanted to see you, so I came."
His mother closed her eyes, releasing a breath. "You're safe. I'm glad. I'm so glad."
Gently, he smoothed away a strand of her hair. "Mother. Do you trust me?"
When her eyes opened, and she gazed at him so trustingly, without even the slightest ounce of fear, he knew the question had been unnecessary - his mother trusted Atem, perhaps more than anyone.
"I've brought someone to help you," he said lowly.
Anzu was close. Close enough to hear. There was movement as she padded even closer, white skin brilliant in the dim light.
Heal her, he whispered into Anzu's mind. Heal her, like you healed me.
If Anzu remembered that day - the day when he had lain dying in the destroyed palace of Pegasus - she gave no indication, her face devoid of expression. Her pale eyes swept over his mother's form, coldly analytical. After a moment, Anzu shook her head.
"She can't be saved."
The memory of Anzu, when she had found him in the palace of the vampire king, said otherwise; that day, when he had first seen her, stalking the palace shadows like a leopard, searching for something, until she had discovered him, half-dead and struggling to breathe. He had taken her offer then, because he had feared dying - though he had known that Anzu had only wanted a hunter to control, to use for her own means. She had saved him from the brink of death then to further her machinations…but for his mother, who would be crippled even with healing, Anzu would give no such mercy.
Anger. He had never felt it so sharply - couldn't remember a time in his life when it had become this all-consuming. He stood, releasing his grip from his mother's fingers.
Anzu's face remained impassive, her vampire pale eyes cool. Vampire. Yugi had forgotten that vampires were cruel; he had forgotten how ruthlessly Anzu had used him, forgotten that she held no allegiance to him, to anyone. He had forgotten so much.
"It isn't the same," Anzu said, staring back at him levelly. "When I…healed you, I didn't know if you were strong enough to survive. I took that chance. It worked for you because you were strong enough. Your mother isn't. If I try to heal her…she will die the moment I take her blood."
No. He wouldn't accept it. Anzu was his mother's last chance; even Ishizu, the strongest healer in Battle city, hadn't possessed power enough to save her. Anzu had brought him from the brink of death so easily, and yet she refused to do so for his mother -
"Stop. Stop it now, Yugi. Please, you have to stop."
His mother. She gazed at him in terror, her hand reaching out - reaching for him. She knew it was him now, that he was not his brother. She would never be afraid of Atem; she had never stared at his twin like she was gazing upon a monster.
His mother he ignored, because he couldn't bear her eyes - eyes that were glazed with fever, with fear and desperation. She had always been so powerful, his mother; for years he had feared her, had lived to do her will, had struggled to make her see him as a person, and not a creature tainted with vampire blood. To see her so weak, so terrified, was more painful than the physical agony. And the bloodlust burned, a constant, near unbearable pain even now; a pain that made him desire the sensation of ripping Dartz's still beating heart out, of seeing the vampire die as he fell into the sea…
Anzu moved, backing slowly away, before she faded into the shadows - gone, like she had never been. She was running, as though she thought that he couldn't follow her, wouldn't be able to find her.
"Don't go," his mother whispered. "Don't leave like this. Atem can help you - just don't go. He'll help you. Just let him help you."
His mother's mind was in chaos. It had been several days since the last time she had been even semi-lucid - several days of fever-induced confusion and only occasional moments of clarity. When he touched her thoughts, he found her mind fractured, fear and old memories clouding every inch of her consciousness.
He could do so little. Her pain was monstrous, greater than even his own, but he had no power to heal it. What power he did have…it was corrupt, evil, abhorrent. But he could think of nothing else, at least until he caught Anzu…
His mother's hand clenched tight over his wrist as he kneeled, pulling her gently into his embrace. She shivered, murmuring his name over and over again, begging, pleading, weeping.
Yugi have never dared such contact with his mother before. Touches of affection had always been reserved for Atem - but his mother was so lost in fever, it didn't matter one way or another. And more than that…the contact was needed, if only to help sooth her.
"I'm coming back," he said into her ear, as he wove the weak compulsion within her mind. "I'm coming back soon. I give you my word."
"You've gone insane," she hissed, the nails of her fingers digging desperately into his skin. "You're going to kill them like this. You're going to kill them all, and Atem won't be here to stop you."
She was right. He was going to kill - all of the humans, one by one, until their blood saturated the ground, and stained the grass crimson. He would find Anzu, yes, but first he would kill, and keep killing. Hot, hungry anticipation rose within him, and he could see it - the blood everywhere, splattered over the grass, the terror of the humans, all while Anzu watched…
"The seal. You've lost control. Let me reapply the seal." His mother's voice was weak, a breathy whisper. "My child. My son. If I had raised you as a vampire, none of this would have happened - "
"Rest, Mother," he said softly. The compulsion settled, and his mother's breathing relaxed into the easy rhythm of sleep. Her fingers loosened from his wrist, and she slid bonelessly from his embrace.
Sleep for now, he whispered into her unconscious mind. Sleep, while I hunt.
The waters of the sea were darkly blue, even in the blazing light of noon. It made it difficult to pinpoint the Leviathan's position, but the flicker of scales - iridescent, almost pearl-like, despite their near black coloring - spoke to the monster's steady descent. By nightfall, the Leviathan would be gone, sliding back into the deeper depths of the sea, and all traces of its immense power would disappear with it.
Kisara had had to make certain that it would return to the place of its slumber. With Dartz's death, the monster had been weakened somewhat - but subsequently, it had also possessed no master to control its wrath. Without a vampire's mind to focus it, the Leviathan would lay waste to the earth, savage everything it came across, until the world was a smoking ruin. It was not in Kisara's power to fully harness the Leviathan's mind as Dartz had done, but she had pushed upon the monster's thoughts, had guided it to this dark point of the ocean - and now it was diving, submerging itself beneath the waves, down to a place where it could do no harm.
But she had remained, riding the steady currents of ocean air, to see the last of the Leviathan's coiled body sink into the dark waters of the sea. It was time for her to return, back to where Battle city lay, though a small part of her was hesitant.
An old vision, she thought, soaring above the waves, and into a mass of sun-kissed cloud, is still a vision, and still rings true.
She had seen Dartz's death over a thousand years ago – when Dartz was still a tiny vampire child, clasped in the arms of his mother, too young even to have felt the first pangs of blood-hunger. A beautiful, well-formed child, heir of a pair of lovely aristocratic vampires of the ancient blood. If his parents had known that Dartz would fall to a dhampir, they would have killed him with their own hands. They would have killed him and tried for a new heir, and Dartz never would have grown, never would have come into the glorious mastery of the Leviathan, never would have become the right hand of the King, a Sub-Emperor of the vampire realm.
Dartz, for all of the cruel, sadistic deeds he'd committed for the pleasure of the King, had been a child once. If Kisara had let slip to his parents the truth of his destiny, he would have died as an innocent. So she had waited, knowing that a millennia later, he would no longer be innocent, that his soul would be dark, and his killer would be a young, insane dhampir who would delight in ripping Dartz's heart out of his chest…
The clouds grew thinner, and the ocean beneath her had lightened, waves brilliantly cerulean in the deepening sunlight. She was close. On the air, there was the smell of smoke and blood – the scent of Battle city and its people. This she had seen as well – though she had hoped this vision would not come into fruition, had prayed that she had been wrong.
But she was never wrong. She had known this would happen, and she had played accordingly, because fate could not be altered, could not be tampered with. She had no power to change anything – no power to stop the inevitable future she had glimpsed.
But the guilt remained. She could change nothing, but she still felt the guilt, the torment of knowing. She would feel it until the day she died…
…A day which she had also seen.
Kisara turned with the wind, and saw the blurred steel shape of Battle city, partially hidden by its still functioning cloaking mechanisms. There were no screams, no sounds of fighting as yet.
But there would be.
She folded her wings, seeking two minds – Anzu's and the dhampir's.
Her shadow darkened the silvery surfaces of Battle city, and she landed, talons sinking into the moist earth. She furled her wings, curling her necks, and idly wrapping the tip of her tail around one of the city's collapsed steel beams.
And she waited. In this form, her movement would be limited – but she had seen, in her vision of long ago, that she was meant to wear this shape right now, right this moment. And, if she were honest, it was probably better for her to remain like this, what with the blow Dartz had dealt to her. It was a blow she had allowed, but Dartz had not been gentle with his Touch of Blood, and though she had healed, she still felt a persistent exhaustion. It was necessary for her to conserve as much energy as possible, and transforming back would only serve to weaken her further.
Kisara couldn't afford any further weakness. There were three things she had to attend to – the first of which was the safety of the people of Battle city. The city was unsalvageable, its power core compromised; but the hunters, those who had survived, were still capable of fighting. And they would need to fight – very soon, Kisara knew, for Pegasus was now actively moving against them.
There was also the matter of her Keep. Akunadin was an agent of the Imperial court, and he had easily swayed the other eleven to his cause. She could not return, not right now; Akunadin was nearly as old as she was, and with eleven vampires – each of them semi-powerful nobles – backing him, Kisara held the disadvantage. The Keep, however, mattered very little to her – what did matter was the humans that she had been forced to leave behind, the refugee hunters of Domino. They were not without protection – the three Blue eyes, with their bloodthirsty master Kaiba, would be a force to be reckoned with. Still, she had taken a chance. A very slim chance. And she would not know if that gambit had paid off, not for some time yet.
Limited vision, she mused, her lips rippling away from her fangs. Better not to see anything at all, I think.
After a time, a hunter came forward, moving at speed. Light flashed over red armor, pale ribbons trailing in the wind.
Miho, Kisara said. The hunter stopped before her, clearly exhausted, half falling to her knees in fatigue. In the space of a second, Miho's fingers suddenly flew into a series of complicated hunter hand-signs.
It was as Kisara had expected. The interior of Battle city was collapsing, with only the outer edges of the city still somewhat stable – but only just. Battle city's hunter force wasn't better off; less than half of the hunters were strong enough to fight, should a threat arise. The rest were seriously injured, in critical condition…and the healers' strength was on the wane, many of them over-strained, and completely drained of their healing power.
A bad situation – one that was about to get worse.
What of Vivian? Kisara asked. Miho blinked, and shook her head. Vivian had collapsed from exhaustion, Miho signed, and Mahaado was still trapped in some sort of complex compulsion-induced coma –
Bring them to me, Kisara commanded. And Otogi. I will do what I can for them.
Battle city would need its leaders. Especially now, with the coming threat.
Miho looked up at her in confusion, but after a moment, she nodded.
Idly, Kisara clacked her teeth. One more thing, before you go. I want you to order all of the hunters out here into the open. Escort the healers and the wounded as far away from Battle city's perimeter as you can.
There was still some time. The dhampir hadn't revealed himself to anyone as yet – but he would, and very soon.
Kisara hoped that Anzu would forgive her.
The realm of vampires was unlike anything he had ever seen – searing light and particles of darkness, otherworldly, ethereal. And this was only a very small part of it, the outer edge of a world more massive than any human could comprehend; the Queen had given him pieces of her memory that he could see, that he could understand, what lay before him. And Atem was glad that she had – because at first glance, this place was nearly overwhelming, immense in ways that seemed almost impossible to him. But he was here for only one task, and one task only – and his path was clear.
Gaia started forward. There was only the vague sound of the horse's armor, a whisper of metal, but that was enough; the defenses of this place activated, bolts of crimson light flaring.
Atem drew his sword. With a light touch of his fingers against Gaia's neck, the stallion turned, presenting his armored flanks.
A jet of the crimson light deflected off of Gaia's armor, and a second beam – fired rapid-quick after the first – rebounded against Atem's raised sword. He lowered himself over Gaia's back, deflecting the searing bolts of light with slow, precise swings of the blade, before he tangled his hands into the reins, and swung himself over Gaia's shoulder.
The horse compensated for the shift in weight, reducing his breakneck speed – all the while dodging the arcs of crackling crimson energy. Atem rotated his wrist, changing his grip over his sword's hilt.
He struck, his blade slicing through a wolf shaped body, rending metal in one clean stroke. The thing – almost as large as Gaia – fell, steel fangs snapping futilely at Atem's arm as it collapsed, smoking and bleeding out some pale, inorganic substance.
There were more – creatures tall as horses, and wolf-like in form, emerging from the shadows. They were all steel and transparent metal and dark fur; Atem swung again as a second one leapt, jaws angled to take him by the throat.
He fell into a rhythm, slashing smoothly with his sword, and shifting positions along Gaia's back as fast as he was able; they were like a whirlwind, the stallion moving as swift as quicksilver, rearing and biting as Atem all but danced over his spine, parrying beams of red energy and slashing through the jaws of the metal wolves.
And then they were past the defenses, the red light dying down and dozens of the wolves lying motionless where they had been cut down. Gaia snorted, crimson eyes gleaming; the horse tensed beneath him, impatiently tossing his silver mane. But the stallion stilled, muscles aquiver, ears laid back in unrestrained aggression.
There was a vampire above them, adorned in silk and armor – silk that was pale and delicate looking, curling over and armor that was smooth in places and jagged in others.
"Well, well. What do we have here? Some fool of a human come to play?" the vampire murmured, wings of bronze flaring open. "Welcome, human. You've made it past the barrier and the cyber wolves. Congratulations are in order…allow me to give them to you."
And then the vampire was upon him, a pale, clawed hand reaching for the vital artery of Atem's neck. A quick parry with the sword prevented the vampire's talons from taking his head, and his own hand struck the weak point in one of the vampire's wings. Gaia bucked, screaming, as Atem rose into a hand-stand, neatly avoiding the vampire's second strike.
His leg came down hard onto the vampire's shoulder as his sword slid past armor and silk and bit deep into flesh.
There was a sharp hiss. The vampire disengaged, one wing hanging limply, and blood flowing liberally from the gash Atem's sword had dealt to his chest.
"Interesting," the vampire said idly, seemingly unfazed by the wound and his crippled wing. "Where did you get that sword, mortal filth?"
Atem didn't bother answering – Gaia pivoted quickly, and lunged in the direction of the vampire. The vampire evaded, dodging the stallion with relative ease.
But not Atem's sword.
The edge of the blade sliced through the pale skin of the vampire's throat, tearing veins and artery. Blood spurted, crimson-black against white vampire skin, splattering over the vampire's silk and armor, over Atem's face.
And then Atem's sword found the vampire's heart. The sound of the vampire choking on his own blood, the sensation of the blade sliding into still beating muscle…exhilarating. The pleasure of a kill was always so fiery-hot, and for a moment he allowed that feeling to wash over him, to warm him as few other things did. He was not like Kaiba, who reveled in killing, and enjoyed little else; but nor was he like Ryou, who felt guilt each time he took a life. Atem treaded the middle ground, feeling neither deep guilt nor absolute bloodlust - only pleasure, as his sword dripped the dark heart's blood of the vampire.
Atem didn't bother cleaning the blade; there would be more threats, and there was little sense in wasting time cleansing the blade free of blood - a blade that was destined to taste the blood of countless other vampires before the end of night.
Gaia scraped an impatient hoof against the ground, his breath misting in the air. Atem remounted, holding the sword loosely at his side as he twitched the reins with an idle hand. The stallion started forward again, snorting and dancing, his muscles vibrating in excitement.
The Red Heart of the vampire empire lay before them. The Queen had been specific in her desire - she wanted Atem to destroy this place, to bring its Sub-emperor to his knees.
And he would oblige her.
The humans were wary of her, eyes full of what she could only describe as a mild hatred - but they listened, which was good enough, she supposed. One of the taller hunters - a captain, shoulder slung with an elaborate shield, adorned in armor of dark bronze - leveled her with eyes that gleamed with distrust and hot anger. But he didn't question her, and said nothing as she spoke. After she spoke, he gave her a quick nod before gesturing a command to the other hunters.
They slunk into the shadows, melding with the darkness. The captain - Honda - gave her one last, long look. "So help you if you're lying to us, vampire."
And then he, too, disappeared into shadow.
Anzu released a breath. That had been simpler than she'd expected - she had thought the hunters would take more convincing. But, then again, after everything that had happened, the hunters of Battle city would take even the smallest possibility of a threat seriously. Which was convenient for her, because now she could spend less time worrying about the humans and more time playing her role as bait…
Now to do something stupid, she thought, flinging open her wings.
She flew out of the shadows of Battle city's wings, and into the fading sunlight. In the back of her mind, Anzu felt the vaguest sense of the blood-bond, the ominous pulse of it disturbing and slightly terrifying.
Yugi was not close. Somewhere, within the disintegrating interior of Battle city, she felt him; but where he was, exactly, she couldn't pinpoint, because somehow he was disrupting the link of the blood-bond.
Which made things difficult. If she couldn't find him before things descended into chaos…
But no. She would find him - she had to.
Anzu soared above the heights of Battle city, into a strong current of wind. Drawing a breath, she extended out her wings full span, riding the heavy tide of the wind, and steeled herself.
Then she plunged her talons into the side of her neck. Blood splattered hot and fast into the air, saturating the wind.
The blood-bond flared so violently that she was momentarily paralyzed - she fought to breathe, her wings folding dangerously of their own accord. Burning anger, molten pain, agonizing hunger - all of it compressed into the smallest second.
So I have your attention, she thought, spreading her wings as the paralysis faded. Monstrous waves of bloodlust still lapped against the blood-bond, tearing at her, and it took every ounce of her strength to retain her composure. Her hands closed, talons sinking deep into her palms, as she re-centered herself, forcing herself to calm. She understood now a little more of what she was dealing with - and knew that she couldn't waste any more time.
Her wings snapping shut, Anzu plunged, down into the steel mass of Battle city.
There were still a few humans within the city - hunters combing the mangled corridors and bridges, armor glittering as she sped past them. They were alert, and she saw the edges of swords and stakes bared, and felt the slightest twinge of relief. They would be ready to defend and protect, and that was all the assurance that she needed.
She swerved, bearing left into a tunnel-like opening, as the blood-bond surged again. Darkness momentarily enveloped her, and then she was out, flying into open, sunlit air.
This area of Battle city lay untouched, free of the destruction that had been wrought everywhere else. It was almost pristine, with orange rays of sun illuminating clean steel pillars and platforms.
Pristine, if it weren't for the blood, for the screams. She saw hunters sliding in and out of shadows - fighting against some unseen force.
Yugi.
She interposed herself between the invisible force and a fallen hunter - and the blade of a sword, its edge flashing blue, stopped short of slicing through her shoulder. The hunter she'd saved - bleeding and breathing heavily, weapon broken - struggled to his feet.
"Run," she said, voice low. "Run, all of you."
They obeyed, retreating - for which she was overwhelmingly grateful. Because she was going to have to fight. She had known that she would be forced to, when she had seen his mother dying, had seen how desperate he was to have her healed. But Anzu hadn't dared to touch his mother, had feared the repercussions - if she had tried to heal his mother, the woman would have only died all the sooner. Anzu did not want his mother's death on her hands; Anzu knew the pain that came, the anguish of knowing that there was a person responsible for her mother's death, responsible for her father's. She did not want to be like Pegasus, who dealt death so wantonly, who cared nothing of ruthlessly snatching a parent away…
And Yugi would have blamed her. The Yugi that she knew before, the human, perhaps would have forgiven her - but not this Yugi.
He looked human. He looked like the same person with whom she had formed the blood, the same person who had been her slave, her means to an end.
It was off-putting, and vaguely terrifying. The sword withdrew, the blade stained crimson with hunter blood; she watched it warily, anticipation rising within her.
"Why are you doing this?" She knew the reason, felt it over the link of the blood-bond. But she needed to hear him say it, to hear it from his own lips.
When he said nothing, his eyes dark and damning, Anzu realized that speaking was a waste of time - he had gone insane, and no words would reach him.
This was no longer about his mother - bloodlust was at the forefront of Yugi's mind, and he wouldn't stop until it was completely satiated. And now things were truly dangerous, because a berserker was not so easily dealt with…not without copious amounts of blood.
I guess I'm going to be a sacrificial lamb to slaughter, Anzu thought, ignoring the nausea twisting in the pit of her stomach. Kisara had given her the charge to protect Battle city, and she would do it - even against Yugi.
She lunged forward, and her talons tore deep into his skin, rending the muscles of his shoulder. In the next instant she was airborne, her fingers wet with his blood.
Anzu spared a single glance back. He was still there, still unmoving, as though nothing had happened at all -
There was the sound of wings. It happened so quickly that Anzu could hardly make sense of it - suddenly she saw them, wings opening, unfurling almost languidly, feathers brilliant and dark and strangely hypnotic…
Yugi had shed his human form far more easily than Anzu had ever managed with her own human guise. And he rose, rapidly closing in- fast as thought. She back-winged, shock surging within her; mid-air and mere inches from her, he was still changing, the short hair lengthening into wavy tendrils, the storm-colored eyes paling to silver.
Anzu forced her wings into the downbeat, struggling to establish some distance. And then she sped upward, focusing only on getting out - out of Battle city, out into the sky.
Yugi remained close behind her, the whisper of his wings utterly sinister to her ears.
She burst out into cool twilight air, and soared into the upper reaches of the clouds.
Now, she thought, it's time to dance.