Disclaimer: I do not own Ragnarok Online. I also made up most of the characters' names so coincidence of having a name similar to theirs is possible. Well, there is an exception for Liatris as I got her name from Macross. I am also changing the rating of this from K+ to T.
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THE ANGEL OF THE MURDERER
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Chapter Twenty One: To Finally Let Go
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It was raining hard.
Yesha closed the windows of her husband's room and lit a candle to illuminate the entire space. She smiled at her husband who was watching her. Her smile was weak and fragile. She took a deep breath and sat beside his bed-ridden husband, looking intensely at him with her deep amethyst eyes.
"You're the most beautiful person," Cyron whispered heavily, an obvious symptom of his difficulty in breathing. He let out a small cough as he took her wife's hand and slowly put it on his right cheek. She smiled weakly as she caressed his strands of white long hair.
"I love you," he continued, "that's why I did everything I can to make you happy."
"Yes, you did," she answered warmly. Deeply inside her, she feared for what might come next as she noticed her husband's shallow breathing.
"If asked whether I regret anything," He rambled deliriously, "I don't, because you gave me the best years of my life."
"Cyron," Yesha confusingly murmured his name, trying soothe his incohesive mind.
"That's how selfish I am," the white-haired man laughed weakly, mocking himself, "though I apologize deeply for everything. For-"
She hushed his lips with her finger. "You don't have to."
"You don't understand. I-" His rasp voice carried on.
"Don't tell me these things," Yesha whispered, "you have a lot of time to say those things. It's not like you're going to die."
"Listen to me," He said weakly, "Lai."
Yesha stopped upon hearing the word Lai. She felt like everything became still – the wind, the ticking of the clock, the rain, her motions, and her heart. The raven-haired woman looked deeply in his eyes. His jet black eyes met her mauve eyes.
"I'm giving you your freedom," he whispered weakly as he closed his eyes.
Too many questions lingered in her head yet she failed to utter a single word. Instead, she took his hands and kissed them softly, her lips touching his cold and weak hands.
"I love you Lai," he repeated, "and I'm giving you your freedom."
"I don't understand you, Cy," she caressed his hands, trying to counter the coldness of them with the heat of her skin. "You will get better."
"Liatris, this is not your real life," Cy slowly removed his right hand and touched her cheek. Her cheek was warm. With a weak voice and remaining strength, he responded, "all of these are pretentions."
"No, no, no, no," she pleaded as she moved her face closer to his, placing her forehead against his. Tears started to dwell on her eyes. "Don't say those things. You're hallucinating are you?"
He remained silent.
"Cy, please," she pleaded once more as she watched her husband on the bed.
"You're too good for me, Liatris," he coughed severely in between with a smile on his lips. Yesha watched him with tears flooding her amethyst eyes.
"I love you," he repeated weakly, his eyes remained close. "and my heart belongs to you, Liatris, even from beyond."
"No, Cy!" She cried, "you can't do this to me."
"Liatris, thank you." He coughed badly. "Liatris, you made my life complete."
"No, no, no." She muttered. "You can't do this to me."
He smiled weakly and took a last look to Liatris before closing his eyes again. The rain poured harder.
"Cy, don't -" She paused and checked for his pulse. It was weak. "No, Cy, don't do this to me."
"Call me Frieze. It's my real name." He gasped for air.
"Cyron, please, just hang on." Yesha panicked as she looked for pain relievers inside the drawer beside the bed. "Please, Cy."
With his remaining strength, he pulled Yesha closer to him and said weakly, "Lai, listen. You have to go to Midgard, avoid Margareth, and look for Scy-"
Midway, he stopped and started breathing shallow with his eyes opened, an attempt to find air like someone who was drowning. After heaving, his eyes softened and everything remained still. His hands clutching her shoulders dropped.
"No, don't do this, Cy!"
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Several male and female novices lined up in the academy while Van roamed around, overseeing their stances and grips as the pupils worked on their two-handed swords.
"Pick up the pace, brats," Van commanded loudly, his voice echoing the entire academy hall, as he watched the beginners work their way towards swordsmanship, "and make sure that you have the proper way of holding the weapons."
As the students became fast-paced in swinging their wooden swords, the brown-haired knight smiled with satisfaction.
When he turned his back, he was surprised to see a priest with a clean shaven head and several piercings. The man greeted him politely, "a blessed day to you, High Council Van."
A guild crest embroidered on the neckline of his red and black clerical clothing caught the knight's eyes. Van responded with a nod.
"Vice Guild Master Samvel would like to give you this," the priest gave the brown-haired sword master a thick brown envelope. Van frowned upon receiving the thick parcel.
"It's a guild report," the priest explained, "of the previous six months."
The brown-haired sword master quickly placed the envelope inside his pocket and then eyed the priest once again. With a frown, he gently said, "you look familiar."
"I was from The Brotherhood before moving to Sigma," the priest smiled nonchalantly. The knight then commented, "it's a good thing that Nae didn't feel betrayed with your transfer."
"Nah," the clean shaven priest answered coolly, "he's fine with it. He actually urges me to join Sigma, you know."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Van smiled.
"Nah, the pleasure is mine, high council Van." The priest returned the gesture. He also added, "I can still remember the day I first learned about Sigma. It was more or less three years ago, you know, with that massive summoning of monsters in Payon. Too bad, I was benched by Nae and was asked to give medical assistance to injured civilians."
Van almost flinched upon hearing the event. It was the day Liatris and Frieze disappeared. It happened while they were fighting summoned monsters in Payon.
"You know, it's a bad thing that I wasn't able to meet your priestesses," the chatty priest continued despite the knight's evident change of expression. "I had heard a lot about the priestesses of your guild back then – capable and skilled. I was hoping to meet one of them but it looks like they're not required to give assistance."
Van's auburn eyes widened upon hearing the priest's statement. Almost choking, he asked in a faltered voice, "had you met any of our priestess at that time?"
The priest shook his head and answered, "nah, all the priests in our medical area came from The Brotherhood. We assumed that they were preoccupied with other matter."
Van was not stupid. Somehow, he was able to complete the puzzle with the man's statement. He knew everyone's whereabouts that time except for the wizard. Liatris was in Alberta. Frieze was nowhere to be found. He, Qiara, Scyle, and Hau were cleaning the Prontera. Margareth was supposed to be giving assistance to civilians. Just to clarify his thought, he asked blatantly, "How about Margareth, one of our former priestesses?"
"The priestess from Silver Maidens?" The priest recollected, "nah. I'm 100% positive that it was just me and some guys from The Brotherhood."
The knight clenched his fist with an urge to punch something out of rage. He instinctively knew that the woman had something to do with the two's disappearances. Quickly, he dismissed his class and told the priest, "I have to meet Qiara and Hau. Thank you for the delivery."
"Not a problem, bro," the priest continued to smile, oblivious to the knight's weird response.
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Yesha lingered much of her days staring at the sky outside the window of her room while Riyana or Sienna checked her every now and then. Much of her time was devoted to figuring out what Cyron had called her in his last breath: Liatris.
When she heard the opening of the door, she turned her head and smiled at the visitor. Her friend Sienna with blonde hair and petite figure entered the room with a bowl of soup on her hands. Behind her was Kagumi, the town's only healer.
Sierra called the raven-haired woman's name as an attempt to catch her attention yet the addressee remained still.
Sierra continued, "I brought Kagumi to tend you."
Yesha turned her head to face her friend and replied courteously, "I don't have any illness."
"Let me just check you," the old man said as he draw himself near Yesha. The blonde woman gently placed the hot bowl on the side table and sat on a chair adjacent to the bed.
The widow did not respond and the two visitors took it as a sign of approval. Kagumi started bringing out several potions and medical stuff from his bag. Upon checking the woman's condition – eyes, ears, nose, and skin – the man spoke in a clear and highly clinical voice.
"As I suspected, she has the symptoms of alchemy poisoning," the healer divulged to the blonde. "I suppose the potion has something to do with cognition. Unfortunately, it was a highly concentrated solution, something that only a geneticist of standing can create."
Despite her lack of reaction, Yesha was listening to the man's every word. Fighting the urge to remain silent, she asked all of a sudden as a form of clarification. "Cognition?"
The man simply nodded. "I assume it has something to do with your memory. Sierra told me that you lost your memory few months past three years ago."
"Does it have something to do with my maintenance?" Yesha wondered loudly.
"It's possible," the man deducted. "Or it is the main cause."
He quickly chose several filled vials from his hoards and gave them to Sierra. "Let her drink these once a day. It may not work effectively, but it would loosen up any alchemical compound that remains in her system."
"You got it, doc," Sierra replied with gratefulness.
"As for your memory, Yesha," the doctor added. "I highly suggest that you immerse yourself with the things that you used to do. Along with the intake of those prescribed potions, your memory might come back easier than before."
"Thank you," Yesha murmured with a weak smile as the old man started cleaning his things. After the man had bid farewell, Sierra started cleaning the room and urging her to eat something.
Facing Yesha, she gently said, "Yesha, it has been a month since he died. You need to get out of the room and you need to eat. You're looking pale."
Sierra placed her hand on the woman's pale cheek and stared at her amethyst eyes. The raven-haired woman remained still, staring blankly at Sierra's black eyes.
"Sierra," she called her friend's name. "Can I confide something to you?"
"Of course, dear." Sierra frowned worriedly.
"He, Cyron, he said a lot of things that don't make sense to me before he died." She assumed that her voice would falter but it did not. Instead, she found herself a little bit calmer than what she had been expecting. She was expecting a breakdown on her part. "Apologizing over and over again. Calling me Liatris when it isn't my name. Telling me something about Midgard and someone whose name is Margareth."
Sierra stroked her cheek and said, "my dear, I also have no idea about what he said."
Out of the blue and without second thoughts, she murmured, "I have to go to Midgard."
Her blonde friend frowned, seemingly unsure about what she had said, and in a louder voice she repeated, "I have to go to Midgard."
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"My patience is running out, Clay," Scyle growled as he was talking to the old man with a scar on the bridge of the nose. They were standing at the dark and isolated alleyway, away from the peering eyes of gossipmongers and curious bystanders. "News must have reached you by now. Klein is dead."
The old man chuckled out of amusement as he lowered his hood and showed his rugged face, "gutted brutally from chest to neck, according to my associates."
"I have done what you asked me to do," Scyle gritted his teeth, "so tell me all the information you've learned about the people I'm searching for."
"A boy from Alberta port recalled seeing these people that with the same description that specific night as you've told me," Clay narrated, "and the boy told me that the two boarded a ship to Amatsu using their connection to an Albertan named Margareth."
Discovering that the truth was right under his nose, Scyle cursed under his breath. For three years, the wretched white-haired childhood friend of his has been waiting for him always at the cemetery, the only thing he constantly visits.
"A porter told me that all the transactions were done by the man," Clay added, "and his wife seemed to be unconscious the entire time."
Scyle's eyes narrowed upon hearing the phrase his wife. He felt his heart thumped a little bit faster. He wanted to kill the bastard with his own hands. He felt the urgent need to save Liatris.
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TO BE CONTINUED
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AUTHOR'S NOTE
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TO ALL: From the bottom of my heart and my characters' hearts as well, thank you very much for the good reviews. Honestly, I was cringing at the edge of my seat while reading and editing this fan fiction.
I am also very grateful for those who commented that my fiction needed a lot of editing because, yeah, it needed revisions in such a way that I almost rewrote the entire story (too melodramatic for my taste as of this moment). I almost cried too when I saw all the horrendous grammatical errors.
Also, please bear with the fact that I originally wrote this fan fiction long before the character expansion (paladins, bard, etc.), the third jobs (archbishop, shadow chaser, etc.), and long before I took writing courses in tertiary level. Please bear with the plotline as I had already finished writing the entire fiction ten years ago, and that each significant point in the event had been already laid out by my high school self. I just did my best merging my former and present taste in writing the fiction while editing and drafting this at the same time.
For my old readers, please bear with the changes. You might also want to reread things (and the details that I added), though the course of events are still as they were.
Seeing my fan fiction ten years after its outset is truly amazing and thank you for hanging out with me (along with my ten-year-ago self and my horrendous grammar).
This, along with the remaining chapters, has been sitting in my computer for a very long time, and it took me a while to pick up my pace in editing and elaborating the chapters. For six years (take note that my last update was in 2008), our lovers have been away from each other. I think it's about time to reunite the entire party and end their misery.