Chapter Sixteen

As Knight-Captain who'd survived a near-war, Sergei was intimately familiar with the need to put personal feelings aside and focus only on the people he could still help. And yet he hadn't moved from his stool. There was always a chill down here, as if the bodies waiting for examination sucked the warmth out of the room to make up for the lack of their own. The medical examiner had already come and went, but Sergei had remained in the morgue for hours – long after the body had been identified and cause of death confirmed.

Losing Boris had been like losing his left lung. It was harder to breath, to find the strength to stand on his own to feet. And when he'd thought he was about to fall, Angelie had been there to catch him. To lean on him with equal force that balanced it out and together they could find the strength to stand up straight. But now she was gone. Her face drained of color and cold to the touch.

Sergei watched intently, silently willing her eyelids to flutter – for the color to return. She'd sit up and laugh and say she'd got him good. He'd wished for hours, but his prayers went unanswered. There was a vacuum where his chest had been hollowed out by grief, a singularity consuming him. There was no one to lean on. This was it. He was robbed of the two people he loved most: first his brother and now his childhood friend.

Finally, with a trembling hand, he put the sheet back over her face. Slowly, his head sunk forward, his brow resting against the hard steel table. His shoulders quaked as the first violent sob escaped him.

…

Despite the doctor's orders that Alisha be granted time to rest, over the next few days her chambers were a parade of important figures. Her wounds were superficial, and though she had remained unconscious for hours, he determined the fever was likely to due her prolonged exposure to the rain before she had been found. This, of course, was not the reason.

"You said it took a few days for Sorey to recover, maybe she just needs time," Zaveid said, but it was clear his heart didn't really believe it.

Lailah shook her sadly, her mouth pulled into a frown. "This is different. Alisha never had the resonance to see seraphim by herself."

Though she didn't need to – thanks to her bond with the Shepherd – Lailah still sat at the edge of Alisha's bed, her fingers gently feeling along the princess' wrist for her pulse.

"She's growing weaker," she said, voice heavy with resignation.

"What do we do?"

"I don't think there's anything we can do." Lailah slid her hand into Alisha's. "We have to find new vessels."

"Then what about Rose?" Zaveid asked. "We have to stop her. We don't need Alisha to be awake in order to purify her. Surely the three of us can-"

"Don't be stupid," Edna interrupted, not looking away from the window. "You know just as well as the rest of us that Alisha's resonance is too low to purify a hellion as strong as Rose."

"I'm also worried about Mikleo." Lailah chewed her lip. "They never separated. I'm afraid the malevolence is somehow weaving them together and if they don't get purified soon, they may never be able to separate."

Edna finally turned around. "So they'll be stuck in the armatus sharing a body forever?"

"In a sense..." Lailah hesitated. "I think it's more likely they will cease to be two different people, and there will be no going back."

Hilda, the queen consort's head stewardess, bent over Alisha to replace the washcloth on Alisha's forehead with a fresh cool one. Edith, the queen of Hyland, was sitting in a chair at the princess' bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of Alisha's chest with an anxious expression. They were the only two visiting Alisha at the moment, though guards were stationed both in and out of the room.

"We are very fortunate His Majesty has not blamed us for Alisha's condition," Hilda said mildly.

"I would hope not, since we aren't responsible," Edith sighed. "It is tragic what happened to that poor knight with her." Her black brows abruptly drew inward. "How could this have happened?"

There was a heavy pause, and the seraphim listened intently as both human's gazes remained on Alisha's face.

"There are probably many who wish for Her Highness' death in Rolance," Hilda said slowly, her mouth an unexpectedly hard line.

"Indeed." Edith leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles and arms. Her eyes flicked once to Hilda then back to the princess. "But she's not dead, fortunately. Though I wonder what happened to her friend."

"Her friend?"

"Yes. Her friend. Apparently she didn't come here alone. You'd think she would be the first to Alisha's side." Edith's head turned slowly, deliberately to make eye contact with Hilda. "Perhaps she was betrayed."

Hilda's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. "I hope not."

Edith hummed softly in agreement. "As do I. It would be most tragic."

…

Being trapped in the armatus for just a few short hours was like a form of drowning. You lost track of which thoughts were yours, they all bled together into one current that dragged you under and you could not escape. Principles blended and dissolved until you didn't know what you wanted anymore.

-We need to find Symonne, said Mikleo. No. Perhaps that was Rose.

-Can she reverse this? That was definitely Mikleo.

-I don't know. But she needs to pay for what she's done.

Before Mikleo could put his next thought into words to share with Rose, he was bombarded by a series of images – memories. Derek slumped against the blood-spattered wall of his apartment, his chest a gaping hollow. A red flower at the foot of a tape outline. Angelie helping Alisha with her makeup. Angelie lying motionless at the foot of a tree. Then Heldalf. Camlenn. Symonne in Maltron's skin challenging Alisha. Finally then, not a memory but a desire: a hand – Rose's hand – at Symonne's throat.

-She's not a hellion, Mikleo's protest was weak, even he knew that much. There was no time to come to terms in his own way, the way he and Sorey had about Heldalf. Only Rose's absolute certainty hammering her own convictions into him, sending a lance of agony through his very soul. A molten heat that bled into Rose, dropping her to her knees. Their cries of agony erupted from her throat as one. They could feel with excruciating precision as new scales sprouted in the sensitive ridge just about Rose's left eye.

-But she deserves it. She needs to be stopped. If she's trying to sow chaos, she has to still be near Pendrago. With Drakon's special guests, she's got all the players she could possibly need.

-Y-yeah...

They had been staking out the extremist's base of operation mainly. Lunarre had been the guy Narcy had told them about. It had to be. And they had no other leads other than to hope Symonne was involved with them as well.

-Symmone definitely used to come here, Mikleo said. The malevolence from the people here has amplified – likely because she is no longer absorbing it.

-Yeah but does she have any reason to come back? No one has come in or out in days. This place couldn't have accumulated this much malevolence without someone being here. Let's finally take a look inside.

They stepped in through the alley sidedoor and followed the concentration of malevolence skyward. They searched every upstairs room, one by one. At the end of the hall on the second floor, was a small storage closet filled with old cleaning implements – which judging by the state of the other rooms – hadn't seen use in a long, long time. This was so far where the malevolence had been strongest. But it was just a closet. Mikleo-Rose's eyes scanned every corner, wall-to-wall. It was a smaller room than they'd expected given the distance between the end of the last room and the interior wall of this one. On a hunch, they waded through the clutter and curled their fingers around the wooden panel on the closet's interior wall.

They pulled at it roughly and it shuddered loosely, as if it might peel away from the wall but something was holding it in place. They felt all along the seams, squatting to feel along the bottom where they discovered a square of cool metal, that dipped a little in the middle in the shape of a keyhole. There was a moment where they paused, Rose considering picking the lock, but the pause was brief and Mikleo was anxious to find Symonne and undo the armatus. They straightened and tugged at each side of the panel, searching for the hinge. Then they grabbed the opposite side and with their superior hellion strength muscled the door open. The chainlock on the other side caught, preventing the door from opening more than a few inches. Rose and Mikleo reached through the gap and tore the chain free, letting it fall to the wooden floor with a muted clank.

They flung the panel open wide. It swung towards them, crashing against the items leaning against the wall. They were greeted with a rush of stale, corrupted air and a dark staircase leading higher up into a secret attic. The stairs creaked beneath their thudding footsteps, swallowed by the dark room. There were was a single window, but it was blocked by a heavy curtain, letting very little light into the space. But with the water armatus, Rose and Mikleo were more visually attuned. It did not take long for their eyes to adjust. It did not appear the attic was being used for storage. There were only a few dark shapes. An old empty bedframe pressed against the wall with one double-size mattress on the floor beside it – too large to fit the frame. And discarded underneath the frame, past the mattress was what appeared to be a small plush toy. It was impossible to make out its exact shape in the darkness.

The air around them was thick with malevolence that once would have been heavy, stifling. But they breathed it as naturally as the purest air. They set one foot forward toward the toy and a figure came barreling out of the darkness towards them with a raised hand gripping a length of wood. Rose and Mikleo whirled and caught the stranger's arm with ease, holding it above both their heads. They twisted the stranger's wrist just so. The man let out a gasp and the wood clattered to the floor.

"Daddy!" Two little voices sobbed from the shadows.

"Who are you?" Rose and Mikleo asked, their eyes narrowed, trying to bring the dark shapes behind him into focus.

The man twisted, attempting to take his arm back. He yanked back with his entire weight behind him. His breathing was erratic, defiant. Rose and Mikleo's grip faltered but did not break. He was stronger than an average human, and the malevolence rolled off him as pungently as the smell of his unwashed body. Whoever he was, he'd been up here a while.

"Who are you?" they asked the hellion again.

"Please don't hurt him!" a small voice cried. Behind the hellion, barely visible in the shadows were two small children huddled together, clinging desperately to each other.

"We're nobody." The man finally spoke, breathy with poorly-contained fear. "Leave us."

One of the children began to wail.

"Nobody hiding from someone in an attic for who knows how long?" Rose's voice oozed skepticism. Mikleo evened it out some. "Are you in danger? Is that why you're here?"

"That depends. Who are you? How did you find us? Who else knows?"

"No one else knows."

"But how did you find us?"

In the ensuing silence, Rose and Mikleo peered deep into the core of his malevolence, searching for any sign of malice. But his was born of fear – fear and deep regret. Guilt. They loosened their hold on his arm, enough that he could snatch it back. "We were following someone else's trail – or so I thought – and it lead me here."

"'We'?" He latched onto that one word.

"I misspoke."

" 'Course you did."

-Did you really expect to find Symonne here? Mikleo questioned.

-No… I don't know. But what's Narcy doing storing a hellion in the attic? She has to know they're here. Why are there children here?

"Who are you looking for then?" The man pressed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"...A small girl."

At that the man immediately repositioned so the children were directly behind him.

"But," Rose and Mikleo continued – watching his movements, "you wouldn't have seen her. It's not the one behind you."

"Then what lead you here?"

"You wouldn't understand even if I explained it to you."

"Try me."

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass," Rose and Mikleo said. "I'll ask again: who are you and are you in danger? Is Narcy holding you hostage?"

"No." The answer was immediate, solidly confused. "Well. Maybe. She showed up to our apartment one day and told us to come with her – that we were in danger. When she explained, I didn't want to believe her, and normally I wouldn't have, but… My husband had been acting – Wait. Why am I telling you this?"

"You were in danger and your husband was acting strange?" Wheels churned in their shared consciousness.

-Could he be Derek's husband? The thought belonged to neither individual but was the realization of a shared mind. If that was true, it was a lucky thing Symonne had been absorbing malevolence, otherwise Lunarre might have followed it just as they had.

"Was your husband a knight named Derek?"

"How do you know…?" For the first time in this encounter the man's voice wavered.

"We – I was the one who found his body. The knights and I have been looking for you," Mikleo-Rose replied evenly before adding in a gentler tone. "I'm so sorry."

"No…!" He gasped, clutched at his chest and crashed to his knees. "When Narcy told me, I – I didn't want to believe her." His pace grew more rapid and breathless with each word he spoke until they were running into each other. "This is my fault. I should have been there. I should have never listened – never left. I might've been able to save him this is all my fault and I can't -"

"None of this is your fault!" Rose snapped. She could feel Mikleo wincing at her tone like a needleprick in her spine. So this is why he'd hellionized. Survivor's guilt. "If you'd been there, you all would have been is dead too. His killer was a trained assassin." They conveniently left out the part where the reason Lunarre had snapped was because he couldn't find them. Though even if he had been able, Lunarre's instability would have eventually lead Derek to his death regardless.

"Is the killer still….?" Derek's husband trailed off.

"He's dead." Their voice was as cold as the corpse they'd made of him.

"Good." He nodded to himself.

"So that would make you Stephen?" they asked.

He nodded again. He glanced back over his shoulder and held open his arms. Two small kids ran to his side. "And these are our kids."

"It's not true," one of them sniffled. "You said it's not true Daddy Derek was dead."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Stephen choked on a sob. "He's gone."

"No! You're lying!"

Stephen shuddered, pulling them in tighter. "I'm so sorry."

-The malevolence from him is getting worse, Mikleo observed. At this rate it will spread to his kids and they'll just feed into each other.

-We can't purify them, said Rose, the thought trailing off.

-You can't possibly be thinking of doing that. But he already knew she was. There were no secrets between them like this.

-It's the only way to help him. As she said it, more scales were growing on their shared body. Mikleo resisted. Stop fighting me! She clutched at her head, where the pain lanced behind her eye. A dull ache formed between her shoulder blades. You're making it worse!

-I can't become a dragon! Mikleo lifted Rose's hand to her hair, fingers clutching desperately at it. I promised Sorey I'd be there when he woke!

-He won't ever wake up if people like Symonne keep stirring up chaos. She has to be stopped. Or the land will never be purified.

-Please, stop! You can't risk absorbing his malevolence!

Suddenly the dull ache was throbbing searing agony as a pair of wings erupted from Rose's back. They tore through her clothes, stretching to their full span. Rose and Mikleo fell to their knees, again dragged down by the heavy weight of malevolence bearing down on them.

It was the chorus of screams that snapped them out of their argument. Their head whipped up, the whites of 3 pairs of eyes glistening in the dark. Their little disagreement had set their own corruption spiraling without any help from Stephen. The wings – they could see them. That's how bad it was. Symonne had given them a big headstart on the dragon transformation.

It was Rose and Mikleo's turn to scream with great effort as they tried to suppress the transformation, to hide the scales and wings – to blend in the way Maltran or Lunarre had, who had fooled humans despite their extraordinary corruption. Their skin was on fire, calling back the scales was liked hiding razor blades beneath their skin. The wings stuttered closed, dissolving like a cloud of acid specially made for their back. Their lungs were on fire, heaving from exertion. Every breath was a stab in the chest. Nonetheless they forced themselves to their feet and bolted out of the attic.

Mikleo-Rose hit the landing so hard and fast, they couldn't control their momentum and crashed into the mops and brooms with a lound clatter. They heard footsteps running to meet them from downstairs as they tripped out of the closet. They didn't know who it could be, it didn't matter. They had to leave before they made things worse for Stephen and his kids.

At the end of the hall by the closet, was a window to the outside. They splintered the wooden supports and smashed it open, a shower of glass bursting into the air – glittering briefly in the sun before tumbling into the shadows of the alley below. There were no ledges to work their way down. It would be a straight drop.

They had one leg out the window as someone yelled from the top of the stairs "Wait!"

Mikleo's water artes cushioned their fall. They landed with a soft crunch.

"You've got to be kidding me." An exasperated cry from the window they'd just exited. Then a hissed "Shit."

Mikleo and Rose didn't turn to see who it was. They made it half a block before the toll of suppressing the transformation siezed them. How did Maltran do it for so long? Every muscle in their shared body locked up and they went sprawling face first into the still wet dirt of the district's streets. Through gritted teeth and grunts of pain, they manage to lift their face off the ground and look forward. They will crawl if they have to. They gasped, face slick with sweat. It was hard to breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe?

A hand had grabbed the back of their shirt, pressing the collar into her windpipe. They struggled weakly as they were hauled back to the very place they'd been trying to escape. Once they're inside, they're tossed into a heap at the foot of the stairs. The edges of the steps were like cattle brands where their back hits them. Rose and Mikleo reached for the railing attempting to sit up. They curved their arms around the post like a lifeline and regarded their capturer through heavy lids and the sweat that dripped down their brow.

"You're Ruby, aren't you?" The voice was familiar. But the face – the face was behind a mask. It swayed unevenly with the room.

Mikleo and Rose licked their suddenly dry lips. "We - I'm -" they coughed violently. The malevolence, when resisted, was like a sickness that threatened to swallow you whole. It was so much easier to just not resist. To just let the hellionization take you. Most transformations took time. A period over which you can acclimate and learn to hide your disfigurations. Most hellions were not nailed with near enough malevolence to make them a dragon in the span of a single second. They needed to run. To get away from people.

"What were you doing upstairs?" Narcy growled. "Don't lie. I saw you. The panel to the attic was forced open by someone. By you."

Deep breaths. "I didn't do anything."

Narcy rested a hand on either hip, her elbows making sharp, angles. "If you weren't planning on doing something, what were you doing snooping around? I'm not stupid."

"Ask them yourself," Mikleo-Rose rasped. Their words were slurred. "We – I – We. We – I didn't do anything."

Narcy's gaze was sharp, even through her mask. "I find that hard to believe."

The conversation was difficult to follow in their current state. Rose-Mikleo lifted a hand to their face, horrified to feel the perspiration there."My mask. I forgot."

Narcy shrugged. "I already knew who you were."

"You did? How?"

Another shrug. "It's not important."

"Seems pretty important to me." Their hand plopped from their face into their lap.

"We're getting off-topic. What were you doing upstairs?"

"I think the more important question here is why are you keeping hostages in your attic?"

"They're not hostages," Narcy corrected bitterly.

"I dunno," said Mikleo and Rose. "Stephen didn't seem so sure of that."

Narcy froze. "You actually spoke to him?" Rather than anger, the question hung in the air in a cloud of surprise.

"Yup."

"Then you know I did it to protect them. You remember the rogue member I told you about? When I found out he'd threatened a knight's family… I had no doubt he'd actually go as far as to kill them if he didn't get his way. Turns out I was right, since that knight turned up dead. I'm glad I acted quickly."

"What do you care about them?"

"I'm not doing this to get innocent civilians killed. They aren't involved, and it should stay that way," Narcy replied easily.

"And your boss?"

"Cypress doesn't care as long as the job gets done. So I'm free to do things my way."

"Lucky you."

"Indeed." Narcy's mouth thinned into a hard line. "You still haven't told me what you were doing upstairs."

"Truthfully, I've been looking for them since I learned about the blackmail." It was the truth, even if Derek's family weren't Mikleo and Rose's current target. "I was worried about their safety."

One hand dropped from Narcy's hip and she cocked her head to the side with a sigh. "I suppose since it was a member who did the blackmail it would make sense to look here. And after your stunt with Malfore, I'll trust you were worried about needless bloodshed."

"You don't think I killed him?"

Narcy smirked. "I assume it wouldn't please you to hear that I followed you afterwards. And while watching your room I noticed someone traversing the rooftops. Turned out it was Lunarre with Malfore's body. That's how I know it wasn't you."

The sweat on Rose's body chilled. She and Mikleo swallowed uncomfortably. "You couldn't have followed me. I know I wasn't followed."

Narcy took two solid steps toward them, and crouched down to meet their eyes. One side of her smirk climbed higher. "You would like to think that, wouldn't you, Rose?"

The room spun.

"It must be hard learning you're not as good as you think you are."

"What do you want?"

Narcy stood up and stretched out a hand. "Nothing less than your full cooperation."

-The situation has just gone from bad to worse, said Rose.

-How much does she actually know? asked Mikleo

-Well, there's one way to find out.

They took Narcy's hand and let her pull them to their feet. They nearly stumbled into her.

"You don't look so good." Narcy frowned.

"I have to go," Mikleo and Rose blurted as they shoved past her and out the door.

"You better come back!" Narcy shouted after them as they rushed out the door.

They bumbled into the darkest part of a nearby alley, the malevolence they'd been working so hard to bottle up was finally uncorked and gushing all round them. They could feel the scales breaking through, the wings growing on their back. They would need to learn to control this. But first they needed to get away. They needed someplace safely away from people. They darted through the shadows, trying to stay out of sight. Which was incredibly difficult when everyone was outside celebrating the sun they hadn't seen in over two weeks. They could only hope they moved quickly enough that no one would notice they didn't look right.

They whizzed through the tall grasses of Pearloats Pasture, coming finally to the ruins. No one ever visited this place. It would be safe enough to bunker down while they learned control. They let out a sigh of fresh relief at having found sanctuary, only to just as soon swallow that breath as they saw who was standing there, waiting to greet them.

"Symonne," Rose-Mikleo snarled.

"I thought you might come here, so I've been waiting," she said nonchalantly. "Took you a while."

"That eager for your execution?"

"You won't kill me."

"Oh?"

Symonne toyed with the jewel at the tip of her wand. "You know I'm right. There's no hope for humanity."

"I don't see what that has to do with killing you."

"The murder of Hyland's prince? Committed by a human. The attack on Sergei? Human. The people trampled as everyone panicked were crushed beneath human feet. Humans killed the guards in your caravan back to Pendrago, humans attacked Alisha in that alley – instigated by you, no less – humans killed Malfore-"

"Lunarre killed Malfore." Rose and Mikleo ground out through gritted teeth. "And you helped him kill Derek."

"Perhaps, but the order was given by a human."

"Cypress," they hissed.

"Yes. Which is precisely why you can see humans are a lost cause. Join me and together we can watch the world burn as it deserves."

"Like hell we will!" They thrust out a hand, a ball of water materialized. It stretched up and down, glowing with mana as it took the form of a bow and solidified in a flash of blue light. "You enabled all of this. You've been using Lunarre as your pawn to meddle in human affairs. You are just as responsible for any of their deaths as he or Cypress is. And if it weren't for you," their grip on the bow tightened, their small frame shook with rage, and their voice dropped an octave in contempt, "Alisha wouldn't be suffering right now!"

They pulled the bowstring taut, summoning an arrow into position. Symonne's face contorted with ire. Her eyes burned with pure unadulterated loathing. With a flick of her wrist, a ring of Symmones circled Rose and Mikleo. It spun and shifted, the real Symonne never staying in one place long enough to be identified.

Rose and Mikleo whipped their head around, sharp eyes hunting for the tell that would give the real Symonne away. But whenever they thought they caughther , she'd just as soon flitted away. This was pointless. They fired. The arrow sailed harmlessly through a phantom Symonne until it struck the wall where it scattered into a score of blue lasers, ricocheting off all four walls, including the floor and ceiling. Tile shattered as it was struck, the room a cacophony of collision. There was a small grunt behind them where the real Symonne had been struck. They whirled around, the miniature arrow offshoots tapering into nothing and dissolving in the air. Where they expected to see Symonne nursing her fresh wound, they only found empty air.

"This is all your fault!" a voice yelled from behind.

They spun back around and froze for a moment too long. They came back to their senses just as the head of Alisha's spear pierced the scales on their stomach. They leapt backwards before it could go any deeper. They pressed a hand to the wound, wet and warm as blood spilled from it. It still stung as if the blade were still buried in their flesh. They watched with growing ire as Alisha's weapon glistened with their blood.

"This is all your fault," Alisha's voice repeated with Alisha's face. "If you weren't so weak, you wouldn't have become a hellion."

"Shut up," Rose growled.

Alisha charged at them again. She swung her lance at them, dragging the tip from the floor towards the ceiling. "If you weren't so weak, I wouldn't be dying because you couldn't protect me."

Mikleo-Rose side-stepped out of the way, their eyes wide and body shivering with panic. Alisha was dying?

"This." Alisha punctuated each word with another strike. "Is. Your. Fault."

"Shut up!" They winced as they took their blood-stained hand away from the wound and drew up another arrow. They flapped their drake wings hard, and jumped into the air – outside of Alisha's range.

The arrow splintered into a barrage as it was let loose. Alisha smirked, raising her arms above her head, twirling her lance so quickly it blurred like a hummingbird's wings. She effortlessly deflected each strike, craters forming where the redirected arrows finally landed.

"Is that all you can do?" Alisha's tone was mocking now. "Like I said, you're too weak."

Rose and Mikleo let our a screech of wordless fury and dropped back down to the ground. They kicked off the ground, using their wings to propel them forward even faster.

Alisha tried to retreat backwards. Mikleo and Rose adjusted their grip on the bow, holding it by the bottom and extending their reach. They swung with all their might, connecting with Alisha's head. She went flying. The sound when she hit the wall was explosive. She bounced off and fell on to the ground. She lifted her face off the ground, working herself onto her hands and knees. Rose and Mikleo kicked her in the ribs and flipped her over onto her back.

They jabbed a knee into her sternum, pressing down with their full weight. She wheezed from the pressure on her lungs. Then a hand was on her throat, crushing her windpipe. Rose and Mikleo's other hand was raised above her. The bow had been reshaped into a bladed gauntlet. The very tip pricked Alisha's cheek, a bead of blood forming at the point of contact.

"Stop wearing her face," Mikleo and Rose snarled, squeezing her throat tighter. She was as solid as the real thing and that only made her angrier.

Alisha's lips peeled away in a silent cheshire grin as she laughed soundlessly.

"Is this face better?" Sorey's face and voice rasped despite the pressure on his windpipe.

Mikleo faltered, their grip slackening just enough. Sorey jabbed two fingers into Rose and Mikleo's gash. They pain was as sure as if he'd plunged a fresh blade into it. Their cry was pure agony as they doubled over. Sorey took the opening for what it was, and shoved them off. He scrambled away and stumbled to his feet.

Mikleo and Rose dove after him. Sorey only just managed to parry their stab with his sword. He scurried away, putting some distance between them, but not much. Sorey grinned at them, swaying a bit on his feet. Looked like he'd taken the blow to the head pretty hard. Good.

Once more, Rose and Mikleo wielded a bow and took aim. It broke into a half dozen projectiles all speeding in different directions. Sorey whipped his head around to follow them, to be ready to dodge or deflect. But each jerk of his head was a vivid reminder of the head injury Rose and Mikleo had inflicted. The room spun. His knees buckled. He didn't register Rose and Mikleo coming towards him until they were already in his face.

"I've had enough of your bullshit," they growled. Their bow was now a blade again, and they drilled it deep into Sorey's chest. "You've caused enough suffering."

Sorey spasmed and gargled in response. And abruptly stilled. Sorey's clothes and face dissolved in a mist of colors until it was Symonne's body impaled on their weapon. Rose and Mikleo flung her across the room where she lay in a heap. For a long time, Rose and Mikleo watched intently for any sign of movement or life in her sightless eyes. They watched until Symonne's own body began to breakdown into the mana it was made of and finally faded away.

Then they staggered towards the wall and slumped against it. They slid down until they were sitting on the floor. They pressed a hand to the puncture in their abdomen. It bled still, coating their hand in warm and wet. Luckily it appeared to have missed any vital spots. They rifled through Rose's pockets for an apple gel – tossed it in her mouth. The analgesic began to work immediately but it would be a little while before it helped the body heal. They rested their head against the stone wall and closed their eyes. It was finally over.

…

It wasn't sleeping. Not really. It was more like consciousness drifting while his body rested, though his thoughts were subdued. Truthfully, the continent of Glennwood was even worse than he'd anticipated. It was impossible to do on his own. He'd immediately focused his efforts on Maotelus. He cleared away the malevolence surrounding him, placed them in their own bubble of purity as he worked to rid Maotelus of his taint. Slowly, like taking apart a garment thread-by-thread, Sorey parted the curtain of malevolence and Maotelus' aura shined through the spaces between each thread.

Everyone had their own unique aura. Sorey could only catch glimpses of Maotelus'. It was big and warm and kind. It was forgiveness given form. If he focused, Sorey could pick apart the auras that belonged to his friends. He frequently would lose himself in Mikleo's. It was cool and familiar. It was like dipping your feet into cool water on a hot summer's day. It was home. But one day, that aura had abruptly changed. What had once been pure was tainted beyond redemption, entertwined with another: Rose. Their auras were fusing, no longer symbiotic fusion of seraph and Shepherd – the armatus was a parasite, threatening to mold them into a single whole.

Sorey frantically groped for the others. He found Zaveid, Lailah, and Edna together, radiating concern. He felt for Alisha. Reached a metaphysical hand toward her. Her aura was flickering, fading. Rose and Mikleo were a hellion on a collision course for dragonhood and Alisha was dying.

Sorey opened his eyes.