Guardians, Wizards and Kung-Fu fighters

by wondertown9

Five girls and a family. Five Guardians, two wizards and two Kung-fu fighters. As two realities merge, the destinies of all the people that form them converge and tangle. Two siblings, a war, and the whole universe will be changed forever as new players, both good and evil, step into this great game that is the cosmos.

33. Brave New World

Disclaimer: I own neither the WITCH cartoon-show nor Jackie Chan Adventures; they are the property of their respective creators, writers, and producers.

A/N: Hello again, dear readers. Welcome to the last GWaKFF chapter in regards to my cover of the events of the first season of WITCH. I take this moment to thank (again, I know) you people who have remained with me until this moment. It's time to give the (for now) final touches, and let this long and (unsurprisingly) quite depressing final chapter speak for itself. More news at the end.

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Guardians, Wizards and Kung-Fu Fighters

Episode Thirty-Three

Brave New World

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Earth. San Francisco

Circa 1976

At night, the owner of the shop entered the kitchen of his apartment barefoot; dressed in his pajamas. There, without turning on the light, he opened the fridge, took a bottle full of cold water and poured himself a glass. He sat down at a tiny table, the glass over it.

He had been having problems sleeping lately. Well, not exactly problems, but he had noticed he had been sleeping less than he used to. He would wake up in the middle of the night, just as he had done this time, and spend the next hour or so awake in bed, rolling or staring at nothing.

Maybe it was the stress he had been feeling lately? Managing a shop by yourself wasn't exactly an easy task. Or was it because his body had yet to regrow accustomed to living in the States after spending so much time in China? He didn't know. He was no doctor, neither of the body nor the mind.

So he finished his glass of water and, slowly, made his way out of the dark kitchen and towards his bedroom. No need to turn the lights here either, this was his home after all. He knew how to move inside it, even in complete darkness.

But then he heard a weak sound, and stopped. And he listened. There it was again. Very faint, but... What was it? Where was it coming from? He listened again, then moved slowly. What was it? It sounded like... sobbing? He searched and found where the sound was coming from, at last. Second door by the right. Ah.

The boy's bedroom.

He stood there, motionless in the darkness and without making a sound, looking at the shape of the door for perhaps far too long. Behind it, the sobbing continued. In the end he found his courage, took a breath in and slowly opened the door. Behind it, more darkness and sobbing (which now he could hear perfectly) greeted him.

"Nephew?" the man asked the darkness while searching for the light switch. "Jackie?"

"Uncle?!" the voice came, the sobbing ending abruptly. Meanwhile the man found the switch, and turned the lights on. This allowed him to see the kid perfectly, curled up over his bed.

A Chinese boy that wasn't older than twelve, with a small, skinny body and short hair of the same black as the man's. His was a soft, young face; adorned by wide brown eyes. Brown eyes that, the man noted, had clearly been shedding tears.

"W-What do you want?" the boy stuttered, sitting up in his bed and brushing his face as to hide the tears.

"I heard you crying," the man told his nephew bluntly. Perhaps too bluntly? He wasn't an expert about this whole… raising a child thing. Then again he doubted anyone was. Yet the kid had been under his guardianship for a full year now. And hadn't life taught him by now (and rather harshly, may he add) that practice makes perfect in most of its facets? "Are you alright?"

"I wasn't crying!" the preteen, however, denied. Why? Shame?

The shop's owner rubbed his eyes. Maybe it could have been a good idea to put on his glasses before doing this. "You were," he retorted.

"No I wasn't!" the kid insisted.

"You were," the adult insisted too. This wasn't going to be easy, was it? "Your Uncle can still see some tears in your eyes."

"Wha…" the boy half-uttered, rubbing his eyes a little bit more afterwards. "There's something on my eye, that's all! I'm not crying!"

"You are," the adult pressed on.

"No, I'm not!" the kid shouted now, clearly angered. "I'm not crying! Strong boys don't cry! Strong people don't cry!"

The man sighed. By now he was sure he knew why the boy was crying. But his nephew's inability to admit it was, to say the least, worrying. Especially the way he had worded it. A lesson was in order, it seemed. "Nephew," the adult addressed the boy. "Come here," he instructed so the preteen would crawl to the edge of the bed.

As little Jackie did so, his Uncle crossed the distance that separated the bed from the door's threshold with two big steps. There, when they were close to one another, the middle aged Chinese man extended the index and middle fingers of his hands and delivered a soft dope slap to the boys forehead. The first time he had done something like this.

"Ouch!" the kid cried, rubbing the spot in his forehead the adult man had struck. "Ouch. You... You hit me."

"I did," the adult told him. "Does it hurt?"

"No, it's more... annoying than anything, but..." the kid rubbed his forehead again. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you said a stupid thing, nephew;" the boy's uncle declared. "You said strong people don't cry."

"And they don't!" the preteen boy insisted. This kid… they truly were related, weren't they?

"No," the middle aged man said then, growing serious and pointing a finger at the kid. "Monsters don't cry."

That caught the boy by surprise. He opened his mouth as to retort, but was unable to build an actual argument. In the end, the only word that left his mouth was a confused "What?"

"Monsters don't cry," the middle aged man repeated, sitting at the edge of the bed and passing a hand through his black, spiky hair. He didn't say anything else for the next following seconds. His nephew understood what the middle aged man wanted.

And so, twelve-year-old Jackie Chan sat at the bed's edge, at his Uncle's side.

"A wise man," the middle aged man continued; "once told your Uncle that 'When the tears of a person dry forever, then that person becomes a monster'. That maybe the reason many people become monsters is so that they won't need to cry ever again." The Chinese man paused for a few moments, rubbing his neck this time. His mind traveled back to his youth, to a memory of him defeated at the feet of a snowy mountain; and a woman with green eyes walking away. "And the more I think about it, the more sense it makes." He turned his head to stare directly into the young boy's eyes. "Are you a monster, nephew?"

"N-No," little Jackie answered, wrapping his skinny arms around around his belly. "I-I don't… think so. I'm me. I'm a person."

"Then cry," the middle aged man declared.

"B-But… U-Uncle…" the boy began, evading his guardian's stare.

The middle aged Chinese man put an arm around the boy's shoulders, making him to turn his head and stare at his Uncle again. "Cry," he told the boy. "It's good to cry. If you cry, then it means that you can also laugh. If you scream, it means that you can also sing. If you feel anger or sadness… then it means that you can also feel joy."

The boy sobbed again, yet still refused to let it out. "B-But…" he said once more, voice trembling.

"Cry, nephew;" the middle aged man urged. "Be a person."

And the boy cried.

He cried as loud as he could. There in that bed, with his Uncle by his side and the man's arm around his shoulders, holding him tight… the little boy of twelve cried and cried and cried. Tears fell from his eyes, and snot from his nose. He cried and sobbed so much and with such strength that it sounded as if he were howling.

"I miss them…" the boy confessed between sobs.

Yes, of course he did. And he had every right to. There had been very few times that had made the Chinese man think that the universe was ruled by evil, petty forces. The death of his younger brother and his brother's wife, the parents of this kid, had been one of those moments. A mere car accident. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe it had been the road, maybe a tire in bad condition, maybe a distraction. Could have happened to anyone. But it had happened to them. And the kid had been left alone. It had all been so… unfair.

"I know, my boy;" the middle aged man told the sobbing kid. He felt tears coming to his own eyes now. "I miss them too. But…" he added, dedicating a smile to the still crying kid. "I am here, nephew. Your Uncle is here for when you cry, and for when you are hurt. And he will be here for when you smile, too."

---

Meridian. The Capital

Mere moments ago

Pain.

Unbelievable pain. Coursing through his entire body. The old Chi Wizard had never thought something could hurt so much. What… What had happened? The Prince, yes. He had fought the Prince. He had fought a Heart-wielder. He had used Xiāo Lì. He had struck the Heart-wielder! He had… lost an arm. And then Prince Phobos had stood up. Then the old Chi Wizard had blinked and… the Prince wasn't there anymore. He… He… He was here, just in front of him. And… And…

And there was a sword piercing through the old man's abdomen.

What? Had Phobos impaled him? How? What had he done? Had he warped space or…? No, no. Time. It had been time. Prince Phobos had stopped time, even if momentarily. And then he had… he had impaled him. Oh.

He couldn't feel his legs or his arms anymore. The pain was still there, but it was steadily being overtaken by a… numbness of sorts. His vision blurred sporadically, and each time it did the world became darker and darker.

So this was it, wasn't it? This was what one felt when dying.

This can't be it, the Chinese elder thought. Not after… after everything… Ah…

What a useless man I am, he berated himself. I couldn't find the bravery to… tell Kadma how I really felt. I couldn't stop… my cousin's best friend from making the biggest mistake of her life, I… couldn't… I…

It was hard to think. Hard to… hard to do anything. Everything. Hard to think, to breathe, to hear, to feel, to remain conscious. He was dying. It was inevitable.

"Uncle?"

Voice. A voice. He knew that voice. He knew…

Nephew? he thought, looking ahead. Ah yes, there he was. The skinny boy that had grown into a man long ago. And the woman his nephew had found love with. And his apprentice, ever so diligent, ever so brilliant. And little Jade, Shen's little girl. The Chi Wizard's older brother's granddaughter. His family. Still standing, after all the adversities, after all the trials life had put them through. And not so far away from them he caught a glimpse of five winged girls. Ah, the Guardians, right. Still alive, too. Alive because… because he had fought the Heart-wielder. Because he had wounded him. He had given them a chance, hadn't he? Yes, at least he had done that. He found comfort in that fact.

Look at that, he thought. Maybe I'm not… so useless… after all…

The Prince them drove forward, nailing his blade even more into the Chi Wizard and forcing him to let out his last breath. In his last moments, the old man dedicated a loving smile to his family. Then the world tilted. He had fallen. Everything was losing shape.

But it is a shame… the Chi Wizard thought, thinking about not only his family, but the quintet of girls that formed the current generation of Guardians of Kandrakar too. I really wanted to be here to see… the incredible people you all are going to… become…

Darkness engulfed everything. And the Chi Wizard was no more.

---

Now

The Prince turned around to face his remaining enemies. At his feet, the fallen body of the old Chi Wizard lied motionless. Lifeless. In his hand, the ugly thorn-blade had been painted red. He looked in confusion first at the Chan Clan, then at the corpse, then at the blade. As if he was unsure of having truly been capable of such a feat. Finally, something seemed to click inside his head, and his lips began to curve into a cruel and joyful smile. He had done it. He had stopped time. He had made time itself submit to him! And he had killed the impudent old man. And so he laughed. The Prince, still wounded and bloody himself from Uncle's previous attack, laughed and cackled, like a nightmarish hyena.

And the Chan Clan could do little more than stare in disbelief and anguish at the scene. None of them wanted to believe what they were seeing, none of them wanted to accept what just happened. But… none of them could deny the reality before their eyes, either. Uncle's fallen body, the puddle of blood forming under him, the blade that had pierced his chest, the cackling madman wielding it. The existence of each of those things was undeniable. And so was the fact that…

Uncle Chan was dead.

And every single member of the family that had been baptized Chan Clan by its youngest member felt a hundred different emotions assaulting them at once. Confusion, despair, anger, fear, powerlessness… and that was just to name a few.

The former thief, who hadn't known the old man all too well or for as long as the others had. She didn't known if she could put a name to what she was feeling, or if she had any right to feel it. Or if she should feel ashamed for doubting if she had any right to feel what she was feeling. Yet the woman cried.

The apprentice, who had walked through a very dark path for many, many years of his life... until the Chinese elder had decided to give him a chance. The man who had shown him kindness, who had taken him into his home when they had been enemies days before, who had had faith on him when no one else would have, who had taught him the ways of Chi Magic, giving him the tools and the opportunities to atone for his mistakes. And now that man was gone. And Tohru had stood there, unable to do anything. He wasn't even aware of the fact that there were tears running down his cheeks, only registering that there were warm, wet lines over them. Even now he couldn't move due to how shocked he was. His arms felt like two useless, big, heavy sacks hanging at his sides. Never in his life had he, who had been so incredibly strong since his youth, felt so weak.

The nephew, who had seen most of his life flash before his eyes in the moment his Uncle's body had begun falling. All of it filled with moments he had spent with this man, from childhood to adulthood. The casual jokes, the helpful advice, the angry screams over some disagreement, the long talks about life. The comfort after a very bad day. The encouragement to stand up if some adversity knocked him down. And then the good, kind man that had shared those moments with him had hit the ground. And Jackie Chan, the man who had fought demons with his bare hands, that had gone without fear into dozens of temples forgotten by time and filled to the brim with traps... felt confused and scared and as if something within him had broken.

And then there was the girl. Crying, yes, like the rest of her family. Breathing at an alarmingly fast pace, too. She was shocked, of course. And, oh yes, she felt sorrowful. And powerless. But over all else... she felt guilty. Hadn't the old Chi Wizard taken a blast that was meant for her? Hadn't old, frail Uncle challenged a man with the power of a god in order to protect her and her friends? Yes, yes he had. And so she felt guilty… until her eyes fell over the laughing madman that was Prince Phobos. The man who had tormented the people of Meridian for more than a decade. Who had ruined so many lives. Who had killed Uncle.

Guilt slowly gave way to fury. Her trembling hands closed into shaking fists. Her teeth clenched. Her sorrowful, crying eyes grew hateful, and she glared at the Prince. And so, driven by fury and sorrow, acting more out of instinct than any rational thought, it was Jade Chan who made the opening move.

The girl dashed forward, letting out an anger-fueled, primal yell; and she closed the distance between her and the cackling Prince of Meridian in the blink of an eye. Then she jumped, her right hand alone shapeshifting into a black-furred claw. The claw then became coated in blood-red chi.

"PHOBOS!"

As the Chinese teenage girl shrieked the Prince's name, her claw imbued with blood-red chi descended. The Prince barely saw it coming. Perhaps he was too distracted laughing, perhaps the girl had been too fast. But when the claw came down, the Prince didn't cast any spell. He didn't call for his nearly unlimited power. His already badly wounded body acted more out of instinct than anything else, in a not so different manner as Jade's had done. And so he lifted his ugly thorn-blade, still stained with the old Chi Wizard's blood, in a crude attempt to shield himself.

The claw shattered the thorn-blade into a million pieces. And then it kept going downwards, until it slashed the Prince's face.

Phobos let out a deafening shriek, pressing his face with his hands. He walked backwards, tumbled and fell on his back, legs flailing; just as Jade landed on her feet.

"My face!" the Prince screamed in pain, blood spilling through his fingers. "My face!"

The Chan girl, meanwhile, didn't let any second go to waste. Once her feet touched the ground, she shapeshifted completely into her giant, black wolf form. She jumped over the fallen Prince with her maw open, with the intention of biting his head off this time. But when she closed her jaws, expecting to sink her fangs into flesh and bone, she only bit at air. Phobos wasn't there anymore.

"My face!" Jade heard at her back. "My face!"

Turning around the she-wolf saw Prince Phobos standing now, a few meters away from her. He was hunching over, and still clutching his face. Then he stopped, slowly took his bloodied hands out of his face and looked at her. And what could be seen wasn't precisely what one would call pretty.

Jade had given the Prince three deep slashes over his face, from the left of his forehead to the right of his chin. One of them traveled over his left eye, and had left it bloody and useless. Another had left most of his nose shredded, crushed and bloody. The third had cut open a good portion of his right cheek, exposing some of his teeth and gums.

"You!" the Prince exclaimed, voice full of anger, yet also sounding hoarse and distorted due to the damage his nose and cheek had taken. "You little… whore!"

Phobos extended one hand towards Jade, and a torrent of pure Raw Magic shot from his palm. The she-wolf had no chance of dodging, the attack had been way too fast. And so it hit her fully, sending her flying and screaming in pain. When she hit the ground, she found herself shapeshifting back to human form, although she didn't want to. Had that attack really been that strong? Was that why she found herself back in human form? Or had that blast been designed to force her to shapeshift? She didn't know, and her body hurt terribly. And then came the Prince's second blast, smaller and weaker than the previous one, but still strong enough to knock her backwards… and leave her unconscious over the dirt.

Phobos breathed harshly afterwards, fighting to keep himself on his feet. He still had the power of the Heart of Meridian within himself, but he was growing… tired? No, ridiculous. He was a Heart-wielder! He was invincible! He was a god! But he had fought the Guardians for a long time, and they had wounded him. And the old Chi Wizard had wounded him. And the Shapeshifter had wounded him. And he had stopped time twice now, first to kill the elder, second to escape the she-wolf.

"I… have to… have to heal… have to… kill the wolf girl, kill the Guardians, kill…" the Prince began to say only to feel how a hand strongly gripped his naked shoulder and forced him to spin around.

Phobos Escanor found himself face to face with Jackie Chan, who stared at him with pure, cold hatred in his still crying eyes. Jackie held his right hand up, palm facing inwards and index, middle, ring and pinky fingers extended and tensed, with the thumb folded.

"I'm going to kill you," Jackie Chan coldly told Phobos Escanor, then shoved his right hand into the wounded Prince's chest.

Phobos gasped, and any scream that he may had wanted to let out of his mouth died in his throat. He gave a few steps backwards, bending over and clutching at his chest. To say that it hurt would be an understatement. His heart was beating incredibly fast, yet with every single passing second Phobos felt as if a thousand knives pierced his chest and a million needles nailed themselves all over his body. The pain was unbearable... yet he couldn't scream. He couldn't move. He couldn't even blink. The pain had paralyzed him.

For you see, the move Jackie Chan had used against Phobos was no mere spear-hand strike. Neither was it a technique that belonged to any of the Kung-Fu styles the archeologist usually used in combat. No, the technique that Jackie had used against the Prince… was a Heart Jab. A technique developed as part of a Chinese martial art known as Dim Mak. Diǎnxué. Pressure-Point Fighting. The Vibrating Palm.

The Touch of Death.

It was a terrifying technique. It didn't search to simply strike a weak, soft spot in the adversary's body like a regular spear-hand would. As its name suggested, the Heart Jab searched to inflict lethal (or at least lasting) damage to the adversary's heart. How did it accomplish this? Through the strike's vibrations. Jackie had struck a point in Phobos' body, just below his breastbone and just above his abdomen. But he hadn't merely hit that point. He had sunk his fingers beneath the breastbone without breaking any skin or bone or muscle. Then he had performed the same quick, snapping motion that characterizes the one-inch punch; putting every ounce of strength and force his legs, hips, shoulders and arms were capable of into the strike. The force had exited through his fingertips and traveled beyond flesh and bone until it had reached the Prince's heart.

For all intents and purposes, Jackie Chan had hit Phobos' heart as if there wasn't anything between his hand and the tyrant's organ. And although it hadn't been enough to kill the Prince, his heart had clearly suffered damage. Damage that Phobos' heart would never truly heal from.

Without a doubt, this Heart Jab was the deadliest technique at Jackie Chan's disposal. A technique that the archeologist had learned but had never thought he would need to use against anyone. That he never had wanted to use against anyone. Until now.

Unwilling to give Phobos any chance to recover, Jackie followed with a kick to the Prince's already badly injured face, and the mad tyrant fell on his back again.

However, the next blow didn't come from either Jackie Chan's hands or feet. Instead, the Prince was struck by the strong, massive fists of Tohru, who was as determined to end the Prince's life as Jackie was, and had taken advantage of his friend sending Phobos to the ground in order to approach their adversary.

And so, still wailing in both sorrow at his mentor's death and rage at his mentor's killer, the mountain of a man brought his fists down and punched. Then he punched again. And again. And again, and again, and again, and again... The Japanese Chi Wizard punched so hard and so many times that the ground below Phobos began to crack under the pressure of his hits. But then, suddenly, Tohru's fists struck nothing but rock. Phobos wasn't where he was a moment ago.

"What?!" the huge Japanese man exclaimed, furious. "Where is he?!"

"There!" Jackie answered as he ran past his friend. Looking into the direction Jackie had run into, Tohru saw Phobos in the distance, crawling away from them; his body surrounded by the faintest magical aura. And so the large Japanese man began running after Jackie.

Three times, the Prince, meanwhile, thought as he crawled. I stopped time... three times. That is... too many, I... He was tired. And wounded. His face burned. His muscles and bones screamed with each move he made. His chest pounded and hurt. He had lost an eye. Was... Was this the end? Was he, Prince Phobos Escanor, going to... Die? No! Not like this! Not here in the dirt, at the hands of... nobodies! Not when he had still so much to do! So much of this world to reshape! So many others to conquer!

Grinding his teeth in frustration and ignoring the immense amount of pain his body was feeling, Phobos sank his fingers into the dirt and forced himself to stand again. He then looked at the approaching Jackie and Tohru with his remaining eye. Kill... them. I will kill... all of them... Even if it is... the last thing I do!

Phobos forced his left arm to rise and pointed it at the pair of men. He called for the power of the Heart of Meridian once again, concentrating it within his palm in order to blast Jackie and Tohru into oblivion.

Then a female hand violently grabbed his left wrist. The hand belonged to Viper, who had managed to reach the Prince before the pair of men, mainly due to the fact that Phobos had been so focused into putting as much distance between himself and Jackie and Tohru when he had stopped time, that he hadn't noticed he had escaped in Viper's direction.

The ex-thief pulled the Prince's arm towards her then, and at the same time she punched his elbow with all her might. There was a loud 'crack!' afterwards, and Phobos' left arm fell to his side, useless, his elbow shattered. The magic he had gathered within his palm dispersed, and Phobos stared in disbelief at his now broken limb. He didn't react, he didn't even feel it. He was in too much pain already. Then he looked at Jackie and Tohru. Then at Viper. Then at his arm again. Jackie and Tohru were now mere meters away from him, and…

And then the Prince shrieked like a beast, eyes shinning with pure white light, and the magic blast he had intended to unleash through his hand was instead unleashed through his whole body. A shockwave of pure energy that knocked Jackie, Tohru and Viper back, wounding them, and ultimately leaving them unconscious. Still alive, yes. But unconscious.

The Chan Clan had fallen. And Prince Phobos remained standing. Wounded, and bleeding, and broken, and maimed, and perhaps breathing only thanks to his current status as a Heart-wielder; but he was still standing.

I must… I… the Prince was barely able to think properly. He was in too much pain and had lost quite the amount of blood. Now he had also lost an arm. And his chest… his chest was making him agonize. What had that earthling bastard done to him?! He needed to kill them now that he had the chance! He needed to… No… Heal… First I need to… No! The Guardians… The earthlings… This is my… world. My world. My world! Kill them first. Kill them all.

He prepared another attack, this one manifesting within his right palm this time. It was an energy-ball the size of his head. He aimed it at Jackie, if only because the unconscious archeologist was the one that had fallen nearest to him, and threw the energy-ball at him. The ball of a pure, immaculate white energy flew then, only to be stopped by a fireball and an ice-ball of similar size. The pair of elemental spheres collided with Phobos' own, matching the power of the Prince's attack and canceling it at the cost of their own existence. Then the ground trembled, and a part of it began rising until it formed a wall of natural stone in front of the unconscious members of the Chan Clan, protecting them.

"This must be… a bad jest…" the Prince managed to say as he saw the five Guardians of Kandrakar slowly flying over the small wall of stone and land in front of it. Facing him. Challenging him.

The five teenage, winged girls weren't in the best of shapes either. They were wounded, and tired too. They were sure many of their bones were broken. After all, they had been fighting against the Prince for a long time, using every tactic and magic at their disposal. They had shattered a meteor. The Prince had blasted them off the sky and into the ground of the burning Capital. They were all crying, shocked and torn by the death of Uncle. Yet the five girls remained standing and defiant.

"You," Will Vandom uttered hatefully, tears falling from her reddish-brown eyes, voicing a thought that she shared with all of her teammates. "You aren't getting out of this alive, Phobos."

---

Meanwhile, near the broken castle-walls

The Berserker laughed and roared in triumph, holding his black sword to the skies. No longer constrained by stupid enchanted scabbards, or by the will of whatever fool held the blade. No witches here to break his control over this body. Finally! He was free to fight and kill as much as he pleased!

And so he did.

Without control, without restrain, without waiting. He dashed across the battlefield, jumping over the rubble and the bodies crushed under it. There was no pain, no tiredness, no worries. Only strength, and power, and the desire to extinguish any life that he crossed paths with. The Berserker ran and ran and ran... until he found an opponent.

Some Galhot, or maybe a half-breed, with yellowish skin and black scales adorning portions of his forehead and jawline. Letting out another demonic laugh, the Berserker attacked and slashed the Galhot across the chest. The Berserker's foe screamed and fell to his knees, his veins already turning black. His face became twisted by pain and terror, unable to comprehend what was happening. In a matter of seconds, he was dead.

His next foe was one of those colorful, naked things, wielding a trident. The colorful being tried to strike him with its weapon, but the Berserker stopped the trident by grabbing one of its prongs with his bare hand. He pulled and threw the colorful creature over his head and into the ground, where he impaled it with the black blade. In a matter of seconds, the colorful thing crumbled into a mass of petals of the same color it had been. It was dead.

The next one was a human woman clad in rusty and mismatched parts of armor. At least this one dodged the first few strikes. Then she tried to parry him, and the sword she was using broke in half when she tried to match the Berserker's strength with her own. The Berserker ended her with a downward blow to the shoulder. In a matter of seconds, she met the same destiny as the Berserker's two previous opponents. She was dead.

And the Berserker moved onto his next opponent, and the next one after that. Guard or rebel. Man or woman. Galhot, human or whatever these colorful creatures were. It didn't matter who they were or what they tried to do. All of them died by his blade. All of them terrified. All of them suffering. And the Berserker laughed and roared. This was his hour! This was his element!

"No!" someone shouted.

And the Berserker felt… something. Something like a stinging sensation. More annoying than painful. He looked behind him. There was a small piece of iron, perhaps the head of a spear or a broken piece of a blade, nailed into his right lower leg. Then the Berserker saw the hands of the one that had stabbed him, and he saw that they were hairy, small and… green. A Passling, currently walking backwards in order to put some distance between the two of them, face fearful and sorrowful.

"Blunk's sorry! Blunk's sorry!" the Passling said then. "But Caleb's got to stop! Caleb's killing… everyone!"

Blunk? Who? What was the Passling talking about? Caleb? Who was Caleb? Nonsense. The Passling was just talking nonsense. Yet… maybe…

Strike! the voice of the demon Abaddon said within the Berserker's head. Strike now! Strike next! Strike forever! Strike, and rip, and maim, and break, and kill! Kill forever! Kill until someone else kills you! Kill until you are old and withered and the sword falls from your tired hands! Kill so my wrath… OUR wrath may be satiated. So that I… WE won't be angry anymore. Isn't that better? Isn't it easier than everything else you have tried?

Yes, yes it was.

The Berserker laughed again and jumped forward with the intention of severing the Passling's head from his shoulders.

"Down Passling! Down!" a man with an unkempt, brown beard yelled, pushing the Passling out of harm's way. The Berserker saw the bearded man was holding a blade of his own. "I don't know who you are, monster;" the bearded man said as he took a combat stance, "but you are not my son. Release him now! Or I will force you to!"

Son? Release? More nonsense. Yet this man was challenging him, wasn't he? That meant he was a new adversary! A new chance to kill! The Berserker readied himself to attack. He held his blade one-handed and to his side, body slightly bending forward, and left hand held down and forward. He was ready to run and kill this pair of fools.

But the Berserker stopped even before he had a chance to begin moving. Suddenly. Abruptly. He had heard something, in the distance. A deep, powerful sound. A sound that had stirred memories of long, long ago… and that the Berserker had no knowledge of. How strange…

Could it be? the voice of the demon returned. Forget about the Passling and the man! Follow that sound! Go where it is! NOW!

And so he did.

The Berserker turned his back to his latest opponents and ran away. The shouts of the Passling and the bearded man became whispers in mere moments. He ran away from the battle of iron against iron and towards a battle of magic against magic. From where the sound had come.

The sound of a Horn…

---

At the same time…

Away from the walls, Prince Phobos Escanor clashed with the Guardians of Kandrakar one last time. And although neither side was by no means unharmed, none was willing to back down. Even now, after tiredness, wounds and sorrow had forced the Guardians to fight using mere fireballs, blasts of wind and water, and rocks instead of pillars of flame, gusts of wind, torrents of water and gigantic boulders… And after a bleeding face, useless eye, broken arm and wounded heart had forced Phobos Escanor to fight using mere blasts and simplistic shields of pure energy instead of creating abominations out of thin air… Every single one of them refused to fall.

Rocks flew and met energy balls that made them explode and fall apart into dust. Fire and water collided with thin walls of pure light, trying to break them down. Soon, sickle-like air blades joined them.

"Why… won't you… stop?" Phobos managed to say weakly behind his little dome of light. "I have won… I have won… I have won…" he repeated again and again.

None of the Guardians retorted. No word left their mouths. No taunt, no quip, no boast, no yell. They just kept attacking, relentlessly and in silence. The Earth Guardian lifted more rocks from the ground and threw them at the dome of light Phobos was protecting himself with, joining her teammates in their attack. With fire, water, air and earth smashing themselves against the front of the dome, the Keeper of the Heart flew as high as she could, then descended, and punched the top of the dome of light Phobos was hiding behind with all the strength she had left. Then she did it again. And again. Until her knuckles bled… and cracks began forming in the dome.

"This is…" the Prince said, looking at how the cracks in his defense multiplied and grew. Not just in the spot the redhead was punching, but also where the four elements where striking his half-spherical energy shield. "This is not how it ends…" he hissed, both afraid and angry. This wasn't how it was going to end! "I have won… I have…"

"RIARGH!"

The roar took all combatants by surprise, freezing the blood in their veins. The sound of running feet followed the roar, and then the Berserker came, with his crimson eyes, and sharp teeth, and skin as black as ink, and his equally black and cursed bastard sword. Before any of the Guardians or the Prince had any chance to react, the Berserker charged, cursed blade first, into the dome of light. He pierced and broke through it as if it was made of paper, crashing into the Prince and sending him flying into the ground. The sudden destruction of the dome created a small shockwave too, pushing the five teenage girls backwards.

"Caleb?" Cornelia Hale asked weakly.

The Berserker, meanwhile, had jumped forward and was now standing over the fallen Prince of Meridian, who in turn stared speechless and motionless at the monster. The Berserker lifted his blade, and with a demonic grin from ear to ear, he delivered a blow.

But the blade didn't strike any flesh. The sword didn't slash or pierce. It nailed itself on the ground, just at the side of the Prince's head. What? How? How could he miss from such a distance, against an enemy that couldn't move?! How pathetic! Phobos opened the palm of his remaining good arm, generating another energy-ball within it, intent on blowing the head of whatever this thing was into smithereens.

No, the Prince thought suddenly, and his eyes shone golden for a split of a second. No, wait, no. That wasn't what he wanted to… Who's thoughts were these? Enough. Destroy the blade first.

And so he did. With a quick movement, Phobos smashed his energy-ball into the middle of the Sword of Thanatos. Then there was a loud, thunderous sound, and white and black lighting began to emanate from the weapon, creating a miniaturized storm around the two. Cracks began to appear through the sword's blade and hilt, and the white and black lighting intensified.

"What's going on?!" Irma Lair yelled as she and her fellow Guardians managed to get back on her feet, only to be pushed backwards again by the sudden surge of energy.

"Take cover!" Will commanded of her friends.

And meanwhile, the Berserker stood there, motionless, doing nothing but grin in malicious delight. He laughed, and then this time voice of the demon Abaddon came out of his mouth. "So it was you. One of your ploys, eh? Then again, you were always the smartest amongst us lot."

The blade cracked and broke into a million shards. And in the moment it broke, there was an explosion of black and white that engulfed the Berserker, the Guardians, and the Prince. It was strong enough to destroy the wall that was protecting the Chan Clan. When the dust settled, the quintet of girls had lost consciousness and the scarred rebel leader had gone back to his regular, human form and had also fallen unconscious. They were all lying on the ground. And the Prince…

The Prince stood up. Bleeding, wounded, maimed, crippled, limping and only half conscious. But victorious. The Prince of Meridian… Victorious!

"Ack… Ack…" he uttered, breathing harshly. Had he also lost the ability to speak coherently too? Walking forward a couple of steps, he bent over and puked over the ground. There was a worryingly high amount of blood mixed with his bile. He had never been this injured. He had never been through so much pain. But it didn't matter. What mattered now was ending this. And with that in mind, he generated another energy-ball on his hand.

"My… world…" the Prince managed to say, defiant to the end. He aimed what he hoped was the last spell he would have to use in this battle at the unconscious Guardians. "This is my world. My world!" His eyes shone with pure white light one last time. "My… world!" he yelled, strength coming back to his voice.

"No."

A female hand had grabbed his right wrist, just like Viper's had done before with his left. Except, this time around, the hand was much smaller, belonging to a younger person. And in that moment, the energy-ball Phobos had conjured disappeared, and strength began to leave him. He called for the power of the Heart of Meridian to come to his aid, but the Heart didn't listen. The Heart was… It was… No… No. No! No! No!

Terrified, Phobos Escanor looked at his right, and this time he found himself face to face with his younger sister, Elyon. Had he looked beyond her, perhaps he could have seen Tristan in his gigantic scorpion form, and Alborn and Miriael descending from the top of his carapace and running towards the fallen Guardians and Chan Clan in order to aid them. But he didn't. He couldn't. His only remaining eye was fixed on his sister, who in turn stared at him, her gray-blue eyes cold and full of contempt.

Any trace of anger or hatred Phobos could have been feeling evaporated, leaving only terror. Yes, let it be known far and wide that, in the last moments of the battle to bring down the Prince's tyranny, in the last throes of Prince Phobos Escanor's reign, the only thing Phobos was able to feel… was fear.

"This world doesn't belong to you, brother;" Elyon said, her straw-blond hair, braids still undone, blowing in the wind. With every word of that sentence she spoke, her voice grew in strength. Slowly, her body began to glow faintly, but with every passing moment the intensity of the glow grew… and Phobos' strength and power decreased.

No! No! a terrified Phobos thought, but he couldn't do anything. He tried to pull his arm away from his sister, but he couldn't. He lacked the strength, and his other arm was useless. It's not fair! It's not fair! I deserve to win! I'm Phobos Escanor! Phobos Escanor!

"No more than it belongs to me," Elyon continued to speak, and her body became coated in pure light, every inch of her skin and every strand of her hair shining. Her eyes shone too, becoming pits of pure white light. Her feet rose up a few centimeters from the ground, and her voice gained the strength of a hundred. "No more than it belongs to its people."

Phobos screamed a silent scream.

The Heart of Meridian left him completely.

And the Usurper fell.

---

Elyon Escanor

The straw-blond girl breathed deeply, calming herself. Her eyes and body stopped shinning, and her feet returned to the ground. The headaches, nausea, tiredness and dizziness faded away almost instantly. She closed her eyes and, like she had been taught, searched for the power of the Heart of Meridian within herself. And she found it. The hole her brother's sorcery had torn in her soul was now healed. She was whole again.

She opened her eyes, taking a good look around. And she saw the ruined Capital with its burning houses, and the Royal Palace with its broken towers and fallen castle-walls. And she saw the unconscious and heavily wounded Chan Clan, rebel leader and Guardians, her parents and Tristan, who had shapeshifted back to the form of a fourteen-year-old white-haired boy, checking on them.

"Are they…?!" Elyon asked with worry.

"Alive!" her adoptive mother… no, her mother answered; after taking Hay Lin's pulse and carefully moving the injured Air Guardian's arms to see to which extent her injuries went. "Wounded, but alive! All of them…"

Good. That was good. If they were still alive, healing them would be no problem now that she had her powers back. She would simply need a moment, and…

"Except… the old man," her father said somberly while he put his head against Jackie's chest to see the speed at which the archaeologist's heart was beating.

"What?" Elyon asked weakly, looking around the battlefield again. And then she saw the motionless body of old Uncle, lying on the ground over a… a… pool of his own blood. Her heart skipped a beat. Elyon didn't need to be a genius to understand that he wasn't alive. And to understand who was responsible for his death.

Then she looked down and glared hatefully at her older brother, who lied unconscious and without dignity over the dirt. His face was deformed by deep wounds, his arm was broken, all his clothes except his pants had burned away into nothing, there were many cuts and bruises all over his body, and his chest made an awful sound every time he breathed. Elyon would have felt pity upon seeing him like this... if she didn't know what he had done.

All the pain and misery he had inflicted upon others. All the innocent lives he had ruined, that he had taken. The destruction he had wrought upon this city and who knew how many others. The wounds he had inflicted upon her friends. Every horrible thing he had done… using her powers. The destruction he had wrought to this city using her powers. The wounds he had inflicted upon her friends, that she had treated so poorly, using her powers. All because she had believed his and Cedric's lies, all because she had wanted to be a princess and live in a fairy tale. All because, when she had had him at her mercy within the castle, when she could have ended him then and there and prevent all this, she had doubted herself and allowed him to escape. All because of her mistakes.

Well, she wasn't going to make that mistake again!

Full of a mix of anger and guilt, Elyon extended her hand towards her fallen brother and called for the power of the Heart of Meridian. Her body became coated in pure light moments after and her eyes shone white again, and she prepared herself to blast him into nothing. To kill him.

"Princess, stop!" a raspy female voice surprised Elyon, forcing her to take her shining eyes off her brother and look at whom the voice belonged to. Her surprise did nothing but grow when she found herself looking at a tall, bald, gray-skinned, green-eyed woman; dressed in a long, black hooded robe.

"And who are you supposed to be?" Elyon asked, her voice echoing with power.

"I am the Mage, Princess;" the strange woman told her. "An ally of the Rebellion, and until your brother came into power, advisor to many of the Escanor Queens that came before you… Your late mother included."

Elyon tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at her. "And why should I believe that?" she asked, and the light that covered her body grew in strength.

"Elyon!" she heard her mother's voice, and soon both her parents had put themselves between the two. "Elyon, don't hurt her!" Miriael pleaded.

"She's telling the truth!" Alborn joined in. "We know her!"

Nodding a couple of times, the Princess accepted that this woman wasn't her enemy. Nevertheless, she still held her hand ready in order to kill her brother. "What do you want?" she asked this… Mage.

The gray-skinned woman, face betraying no emotion, spoke calmly. "My Princess," she began with respect. "Please, you must not kill your brother."

"What?!" Elyon screamed, and the ground trembled beneath their feet. "Do you know what he's done?! The people he's hurt?!"

"I know that very well, Princess;" the Mage answered. "Believe me when I say that I know what that man has done to this world far better than you do."

"Then why should I let him live?!" she screamed, directing another hateful glare at the fallen Prince. "After everything he's done… He's hurt my friends! He's killed an innocent man! He's got to pay!"

"And he will pay," the gray-skinned woman declared. "I assure you, my Princess, he will pay with his very own life. At the appropriate time, at the appropriate place. But that time isn't now, and that place isn't here." the Mage paused for a couple of seconds. "A killing in the middle of a dusty battlefield, with no witnesses but you, answering only for the latest in a long list of crimes, is no proper way to deliver justice to a man that has committed as many transgressions as your brother has."

"Then what do you want me to do?!" the young Princess screamed, tears product of her anger, her guilt and her frustration falling from her eyes.

"I don't want anything. What I need, what this world needs, my Princess;" the Mage continued, giving a couple of steps towards Elyon; "is for you to think like the Queen you will soon be. For you to put what the whole of Meridian needs long-term before what you want now. What good will do having your brother die here and now, by your hand? Will that be punishment enough for all the crimes he has committed? What closure will that bring to the people of this world? What closure will that bring to them?" the ancient woman said, making a gesture to the unconscious Chan Clan.

Elyon clenched her teeth. It bothered her how much sense the words of that woman made now that she had listened to them. She then looked back at her unconscious, pathetic older brother. She screamed, and the ground trembled again, and the sky became covered in dark clouds for the split of a second. Then the light that emanated from her body and eyes became weaker and weaker until it dissipated completely. The skies returned to normal, and the ground shook no more. She then took a couple of breaths, and calmed down.

Her brother's reign was over. But he would live, even if just for a little longer.

---

Meanwhile

In the distance, sitting alone atop a large piece of rubble, wooden and regular fingers intertwined and hands resting over his lap; was Charles Ludmoore. He had teleported away when the walls had fallen, and had opted to stay out of the fighting for what remained of the battle, instead watching from afar.

And from this spot he had witnessed the initial triumph of Phobos over the Guardians, and the timely arrival of Jade Chan to save her friends. From here he had watched old Uncle Chan challenge and wound the Heart-wielder, then die at Phobos' hands. From here he had seen the Chan Clan clash with the tyrant and lose. From here he had witnessed the Guardians' last stand against Phobos, the sudden attack of the Berserker, and the subsequent explosion. Then the Princess had come, and Phobos had fallen. He had lost, once and for all.

The Mage's appearance and actions had caught him off-guard at first, but it wasn't all that surprising. They had known for a long time that she liked to keep things under control. Her control. That she wanted events to follow a script that she had written. And that was to be expected, wasn't it? The woman was an agent of Kandrakar as much as she was (or claimed to be) an advisor and helper of the Escanor bloodline, and protector of Meridian as a whole. Fitting, that such a controlling woman worked under such controlling masters.

Charles threw his head back and allowed himself a moment of true relaxation. The cost had been high, but Phobos had been defeated without any need for him to resort to extreme measures. At his back, the roaring of the remaining combatants and the sound of sword and ax against trident had grown softer and softer until it had disappeared. Now the only thing breaking the silence was the sound of the burning houses, the wind blowing, and the footsteps of a single man that approached him. Fortunately, he knew exactly who this man was.

"Did anyone see you change back?" Charles asked.

"Only a couple of... guards I think. Or maybe they were rebels or... I don't know. I don't know who they were." Cyrus answered as he walked up to his oldest brother's side, standing while Charles remained sitting over the piece of rubble.

"Did you kill them?" Charles wondered.

"Of course I did," Cyrus answered nonchalantly, passing a hand over his now sweaty blond hair and then rubbing the back of his neck. "How did things unfold around here?"

"As best as they could," Charles informed his youngest sibling. "Phobos has been depowered and defeated. The battle?"

"Over, too;" Cyrus told the eldest Ludmoore. "Whatever those Phobos-looking, colorful things were, the ones that were still standing began crumbling into petals a while ago."

"Considering that Phobos very likely made them with the power of the Heart of Meridian and he doesn't have it anymore, it makes sense;" Charles guessed. "What about the Guard?"

"They laid down their weapons and surrendered the moment those Phobos doppelgangers died," Cyrus explained, stretching his arms upwards. "I don't think they want to fight anymore, and the same can be said about the rebels. It seems my idea of helping them against a common threat worked quite well." he added with a proud smile. "Nevertheless, it's still pretty chaotic back there. Too many dead, too many injured. Lurdens are still fleeing from the castle and trying to escape the Capital, and I doubt they won't be a problem in the future. And I don't know where the Baroness or the Viceroy are. Or the Guard's current Captain, Lothar, for that matter. Or if any of them are still alive. Someone," he said, looking at Charles, "with the ability to use magic could be pretty useful in this situation. This battle's been won, but we both know this is far from over, big brother."

"I agree," Charles said then, rising from his sitting spot. When he did so, however, he couldn't avoid smiling happily from ear to ear. "Yet, Phobos has been deposed. The nobles and the Guard lack any way to oppose the rebels any longer. Elyon will be crowned, and the Rebellion will become a very important part of this world's new ruling body. A Rebellion we both are part of, brother. There are still a few details to work out, such as Cedric's imprisonment, but…"

"Phase One has been successfully completed."

---

The Infinite City's prison

Many hours later

The first thing that Phobos Escanor felt when he awoke was pain. Coursing through his entire body, from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. His legs, his arms, his chest, his face... everything hurt. He could hear himself breathing, slow and harsh, and each breath he took brought nothing but more pain. He tried to open his eyes, but only one of them obeyed. He found himself staring at a dirty, dark ceiling. Was he lying on the ground? He tried to move his arms, but the moment he made the smallest of movements with the left one the pain intensified momentarily. The right one was still functional, at least. He used it to touch his useless left arm, his chest, his face. He had been crudely bandaged, he noticed. What had happened? Slowly, ignoring his body's pleas to remain where he was and using only his right arm in order to push himself upwards, Phobos sat up.

The sight that greeted him next was the one of a series of bars made of pure energy and that blocked the only entrance of the room he was in, keeping him trapped. A cell, he realized. He was in a cell. And it was only then that he remembered. His ascension to godhood. His clash with the Guardians and the earthlings. His sister's fingers tightening around his wrist. The loss of his godhood. His fall.

Anger grew within him, making his blood boil. He wanted to cast a spell, any spell, and destroy everything around him. But he couldn't. He felt tired and... weak. Weaker than he had felt in a very long time. He was completely sure he still had the gift of magic, but... the Heart of Meridian wasn't the only thing his sister had taken from him, was it? No, all the life-force he had siphoned from Meridian itself through the years, after his failed invasion of Zamballa, was gone too.

Muttering some profanity, Phobos tried to rise from the ground next. He needed to walk up to the bars that held him captive, so he could see exactly where those lowborn fools had imprisoned him. Three times he tried to rise, and three times his legs failed him and he fell on his knees. And with each fall the pain doubled. At the fourth attempt, he managed to stand up. Next he gave a slow, painful step forward. Then another. And in the end, panting and sweating, he stood at the cell's entrance, mere inches away from the energy bars.

He took a look outside, as best as he could with only one functional eye, and saw where his cell was located. An enormous room, built in the shape of a circle. Its only entrance was connected to a stone-bridge that ended on a big, circular platform in the center of the room, suspended over a chasm. The walls were filled entirely with many, many large holes… More cells, Phobos realized, like the one he was in. Most of them lacked energy bars and were empty, but there were some that held prisoners inside of them, albeit the fallen Prince couldn't tell who or what they were.

"Ah, I see you are awake;" a smug, playful voice reached him through the energy bars, stopping the Prince from doing anything else. "They clearly didn't put much effort into treating your wounds properly, and when they brought your unconscious body here, they practically tossed you into the cell like a ragdoll. But worry not, my liege," the voice said with clear irony and mockery; "the ssssssssssun sssssssssssshall ssssssssshine on usssssssss again!" the voice… hissed.

His anger growing even more, Phobos looked to his right with his only remaining eye. Two cells away from his, there was another prisoner, standing behind his cell's energy bars as the Prince himself was doing. His clothing was now the one of a peasant, and his long, brilliant mane of blond hair had been left free of any braid or ponytail. But the blue eyes still had that cruel glint to them. Like the predator playing with the cornered prey. The man was unmistakable.

"Cedric…" Phobos uttered the name of the Shapeshifter hatefully. Speaking hurt his throat greatly, but he didn't care. "You… traitorous bastard…"

"Such cruel words, my lord;" the man that had served as Phobos' right hand man for so many years said, still mocking. "I am no traitor. There is no man in Meridian more loyal than I am." the Shapeshifter chuckled darkly. "But then again, we both know the only side I'm loyal to is my own."

Phobos didn't say a single word for the following three or four minutes. Truth to be told, he was quite surprised. He hadn't expected that Cedric would be so upfront about his treachery when confronted about it. Yet the Snake's proud words only confirmed what the Prince had long suspected.

"You..." Phobos said weakly. "You... were always... plotting..."

"Against you? Not always," Cedric declared before Phobos even had the chance to finish the sentence. "I plotted in your favor for many years, Phobos Escanor. Who warned you that letting your mother and father live, as the nobles wanted when they gave you their support; was a mistake? Me. Who spoke with the Lurden chieftains in your name, and convinced them to fight for you? Me." the Snake said with arrogance, patting himself in the chest with each 'Me' he uttered. "And I did it all because doing so benefited me. Because, for all those years, your victories were my victories too." The blond man paused, licking his lips. He disappeared into the shadows of his cell afterwards, returning moments later, sipping water from a crude wooden cup.

"But..." he continued once the cup left his lips. "I am no fool. I am not blind. When I saw a new generation of Guardians arise before my very eyes, when I saw how the Rebellion began winning battle after battle, when Torus Filney and Kelliwic fell… I understood that the chance of you losing the war was very real. And that was worrying, to say the least. I wasn't willing to fall alongside you." Cedric took the wooden cup to his mouth and drank again, this time emptying it. "That is why, when Wong began planning his little coup, I helped him," the Snake continued his proud confession. "I conspired alongside him and the Tracker... although I ended up betraying them through Miranda, in the end. Had Wong killed you immediately after defeating you, things would have been very different. But he didn't. Now I don't know where any of them are, the Dark Wizard or the Undead. I don't even know if Wong is still alive." Cedric sighed, passing a hand through his blond locks of hair. "And you grew suspicious. It took you more than a decade, but you began to understand the game I was playing. So when you sent Miranda and me to Cavigor, I had no intention of ever returning to the Royal Palace, or the Capital." Cedric paused and took a long look around him. "Things took a turn for the worse then. Cavigor fell… over me. And I was captured. The rebels found my knowledge about the castle's secret passageways quite useful, however, so I have been able to remain alive for the moment. I suppose their use of said knowledge is one of the main reasons as to why you are…"

"Why… are you… telling me… all this?" Phobos said then, interrupting his former right-hand man's speech.

Cedric looked at him, eyes wide with astonishment, as if Phobos had made the dumbest question in the universe. Then the Shapeshifter's mouth curved into a smile again, and soon Cedric was laughing loudly. "Isn't… isn't it obvious?" the Snake asked at last, wiping a tear product of the laughter from his left eye, then looking directly at Phobos with an amused and smug expression. "Take a good look around you! Take a good look at yourself! It's over! You have lost, my Prince! Even if you weren't as wounded as you are, even if you managed to break free of that cell, there would be an army blocking your path in mere seconds!" Cedric laughed again, throwing his arms upwards as if he was a child full of joy. "And even if you miraculously managed to defeat said army, you would have to deal with the Guardians afterwards! Or the Mage! Or your sister, with all of her godly power! Is it really so hard to understand?" Cedric wondered as he lowered his arms. "You are finished. You have no power, no throne, no armies, no allies. The only thing awaiting you is the blade they will use to cut your head, or the noose they will tie around your neck so they can see you choke." The Shapeshifter laughed loud and proudly again. "So before that happens, I thought it would feel good to let you know that… Yes, Phobos Escanor! I played you like a fiddle! For almost fourteen long years, you were nothing but a tool that I used to my advantage while believing yourself to be my master!"

"You… You…" Phobos managed to babble, angrier than ever before. "You overgrown… worm…!" he cursed him. And in that blinding fury, the Prince thrust his arm forward, mayhaps with the intention of attacking the Shapeshifter with his magic, forgetting what kept him within the cell. His hand collided with one of the energy bars, and the pillar of energy sent an electric shock through his entire body as a result. And without grace or dignity, Phobos Escanor fell on his back.

There, facing the dark and dirty roof of his cell, and his back against the cold stone-floor, the pain Phobos Escanor was feeling increased tenfold. His heart began to race, and each heartbeat was agony, and felt as if a sword pierced his chest every second. He found himself unable to breathe properly, desperately panting and gasping for air. His heart kept beating, faster and faster, bringing more and more pain. He wanted to clutch at his chest with his good hand, see if there was a chance that he could use his magic to heal himself… or at least to ease the pain. But he couldn't. His arm didn't obey him… none of his limbs did anymore. He couldn't even feel them. His body was trembling, and his breathing became even more irregular. Soon everything around him began to become blurry and dark, and his ears lost the ability to perceive any sound, his nose the ability to perceive any smell. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't muster the strength to do so.

Fear took a hold of him. He knew what was happening. Oh yes, he knew. It couldn't be anything else. This… was Death.

"No… No… It can't… Not fair…" the Prince managed to say between the gasping and panting. And then, at last, his heart gave up. He felt one final, sharp, extremely strong pang course through his chest, as if part of his heart had exploded. "No… No… Not like this… Not like this… I am Prince Phobos Escanor… Prince Phobos Escanor…" he said, powerless to do anything else.

"Meridian… is… miiiiiiiiiineeeeeeeee…" he proclaimed, using his last ounce of strength.

He couldn't feel the ground under him anymore. He couldn't see. Or hear. Or taste. Or smell. In his last moments, this miserable, arrogant, petty, selfish and mad man that was Prince Phobos Escanor was blind and deaf and mute. And he was alone and powerless. His mind broken, his soul rotted. No legacy left behind but pain, death, madness and tears.

And so, lying on the cold floor of a tiny cell, the Usurper, the Tyrant, the Prince of Meridian… died.

---

The Small Council's room

"What do you mean we aren't going to kill him?!" Jade Chan practically roared, her words echoing through the walls of the small chamber in the Infinite City where the Rebellion's leadership held its meetings. They had all gathered there. The ones that needed to be there, anyway.

Jade and Caleb stood in the center of the room, facing each other. Behind the Chinese girl, the… remaining members of the Chan Clan, Jackie, Tohru and Viper, were standing too. At the rebel leader's back, sitting at the table where the Rebellion's Small Council had sat a thousand times before, were the 'Mage', Vathek, Drake and Sephiria. At the left of these two groups sat the Guardians of Kandrakar, over a series of chairs they had been provided with. And standing by the wall in the room's far right, a little bit more separated from the rest, were Charles Ludmoore, Baroness Miriam and Viceroy Khenel.

The wounds and injuries of the ones that had fought Phobos directly had been treated and healed, first by Elyon's magic, then by using the Horse Talisman once their unconscious bodies had been returned to the Infinite City, where all of them had awakened after a while. Nevertheless, one could almost feel how tense and tired every single person in that room was.

At the table, Vathek rested his bandaged, maimed hand over his gut, scratching it with his good hand, his gaze held low. Sephiria, who had insisted several times that she should have remained tending to the wounded instead of coming here, was biting nervously at her thumb. The 'Mage' had neither moved an inch nor said a single word since she had sat down, her robe's hood obscuring her features. Drake had finished emptying his second cup of wine a few seconds ago, and was already pouring himself a third one from the pitcher that always was over the table. At Jade's back, the other three members of the Chan Clan stood motionless, their faces as hard and cold as stone. Baroness Miriam and Viceroy Khenel maintained their mouths shut, exchanging worried and nervous glances from time to time. Even Ludmoore, expression as cold and emotionless as always, seemed tense and preoccupied; something one could only infer from his constant cracking of the wooden fingers of his prosthetic and magically animated right hand. The Guardians of Kandrakar, now all of them back in their human forms, looked the most exhausted of them all. Irma sat with her legs extended, her arms folded under her chest and her head thrown slightly backwards, looking at the ceiling. Cornelia sat with her arms crossed too, but she had one leg crossed over the other, back and shoulders tense and stiff, eyes jumping back and forth between Caleb and Jade. Hay Lin was crying on Taranee's shoulder, and the Fire Guardian had her arms wrapped around the Air Guardian's torso, tightly hugging her teammate as a mother would hug her child. Will sat with her back bent forward, her forearms over her thighs, head bowed and looking at the ground. Then there was Caleb, who was pale and sweating, and had to lean into a sheathed, regular sword as if it was a cane in order to remain on his feet. And lastly there was Jade herself, who looked more furious than tired; her teeth gritted, face red and eyes bulging.

They hadn't even had a chance to rest, or to properly process everything that had happened. The Battle of the Meridian Plains, their triumph over the nobles, the chaos and monsters that the Prince had unleashed at the Capital, the battle that had ensued, the sudden appearance and equally sudden disappearance of a mysterious Shapeshifter that heavily resembled Cedric, the flaming meteors that had fallen from the sky, the Guard's surrender, the Prince's defeat and subsequent capture… The death of a loved one. And the day wasn't even close to ending. It was… too much. And it wasn't as if the matter they were discussing right now was doing anything to ease the situation. Namely, that the Rebellion had no intention of killing the captured Phobos.

"You heard the Mage. We haven't said that we aren't going to execute him," Caleb said in order to answer Jade's loud and furious question. "We just..." he continued, then paused and took a deep breath. "We just can't do it… for now."

"Why not?!" Jade bellowed out of pure anger and frustration. "You know what that crazy bastard's done! He's killed Uncle! He's gotta die! And he's gotta die NOW!"

"Jade, listen;" Caleb said slowly. "I understand how you feel…"

"You don't understand anything!" Jade shouted, not letting him finish the sentence.

"I understand how you feel better than anyone else in this room, and you know it!" Caleb matched the Chinese girl's yells with his own. His legs then trembled, and he leaned even more into the sheathed sword he was using as an improvised cane. If not for it, he may have fallen to the ground out of sheer exhaustion. "You've lost a person that you love. Someone, a horrible someone, has killed that person that you love. And you want to kill and punish that someone that's hurt you. I get it. Because I was in the same place that you're in now. Remember?"

Yes, of course Jade remembered. How could she not? How could she forget how Caleb was when they had all met for the first time? How full he was of sorrow due to having lost (or thinking he had lost) his father, and how fueled and blinded he was by anger and hatred towards Raythor, the man Caleb thought had killed his father. How that had led him to trust the wrong people, to make rash decisions. And the consequences those decisions had had.

"Yeah, I remember;" Jade said bitterly, evading the rebel leader's gaze for a second. Then she looked at him again, her eyes lit up in anger once more. "But that's totally different! Your dad isn't Uncle, your dad's still alive, and Raythor wasn't Phobos!"

"I know!" Caleb shouted again. And indeed, he knew. He knew that the girl's reasoning was flawless in that regard. He knew that killing Phobos here and now wouldn't be the same as what they had done to get rid of Raythor. He knew that blaming a man of (no matter how misguided) honor for a crime he hadn't committed couldn't be compared with ending the life of a mad, remorseless tyrant that had destroyed so much and had tormented and killed so many. He knew that, damn it! And it pained him too, to stand here, arguing against one of his friends during what probably was the worst moment of her life. But she didn't understand the situation, in the same manner he had understood nothing back when vengeance was everything he wanted. He needed to make her understand, but everything was so… so… "But it's… complicated," he said, in the end.

"How?!" Jade shouted once more. "How's it complicated?!"

"Because, young girl;" the 'Mage' broke into the conversation then, speaking at last. "As I told the young Princess herself, Prince Phobos has done far more horrible things than the one you want to kill him for." The 'Mage' stood up from her seat and took her hood down, letting all the people in that room get a good look at her bald, green-eyed, gray-skinned visage. "He killed the former Queen and Royal Consort, his own parents. He has ruled through fear and brutality, killing anyone that dared to oppose him openly. His greed and madness have cost the good people of Meridian their homes and their lives. He has drained this world's life-force just to increase his own power. All of this for almost fourteen long years." The 'Mage' made a pause, her eyes fixed on Jade. "His killing of the Chi Wizard, no matter how tragic, no matter how horrible; is but one crime. I won't allow him to be punished, to be executed, for one single crime. Prince Phobos shall die, yes... But not in this Infinite City, and not by your hands," she declared, pointing at the Chinese teenage girl. "He shall be executed in public so all the people of Meridian can see the man responsible for their suffering die. So they can know this long nightmare has ended. So that this world may have a chance for a fresh start."

"But...!" Jade tried to protest.

"And that's only half of it." Drake interrupted her, taking his cup of wine to his lips and emptying it a third time before continuing. "Phobos broke this world in two, Jade. A public execution wouldn't only serve as a way for the people to see that the war and the Prince's tyranny are finally over, but also allows us to show them that what is coming next is going to be better. To show them there is a chance for those two sides Phobos broke Meridian into to... reconcile," he said. And as he did so, his eyes traveled to the two nobles that stood by the side of Charles Ludmoore, at the far right of the room.

Jade looked at the Baroness and the Viceroy. Then at Drake, then at the 'Mage', and finally again at Caleb, his eyes avoiding her own once more. And she understood.

"So... that's it?" Jade asked bitterly. "I'm supposed to shut up and do nothing just so you can... what? Have Phobos and Cedric walk naked through the streets of the Capital and cut their heads in front of everyone while you stand all buddy-buddy with the nobles?"

"Yes," the 'Mage' answered blunt and dryly.

"Bullshit!" Jade yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Don't talk as if something like this wasn't always part of the plan, Jade!" Caleb screamed too.

Jade clenched her teeth in frustration. Yes, she knew that too. After what had happened at Torus Filney, after everything that had happened with Tharquin and Rhouglar, after the words the Viscount had spoken to them, they had been aiming to not simply defeat and depose Phobos; but to make sure whatever was left afterwards to rule Meridian was better. That was why she and Will had gone to such lengths to ensure the nobility would end on their side, no matter if they wanted to or not. And it made sense, didn't it? A public execution, with rebels and nobles standing side by side and (possibly) around a newly crowned Elyon… it would make the nobles look better in the eyes of the commoners, while their presence gave credibility to the rebels' and the new and young Queen's new regime. They would all see that Meridian was united again, and then cheer when the heads of the Tyrant and his right-hand snake-man were chopped and rolled down into the ground. She had to admit it was a good idea. In fact, had things gone differently, had Uncle not died at Phobos' hands; she wouldn't have any problem with the way the rebels wanted to do things. But that wasn't the case anymore. Because that bastard had killed Uncle, and he had to die for that. He had to die now and she was going to be the one to kill him, and nothing else mattered.

"With all due respect Caleb, Drake, great Mage;" Sephiria spoke then, taking her thumb from her lips. "But I agree with Jade. We should execute the Usurper as soon as possible."

"You… do?" Caleb asked as his, Drake's and the 'Mage's' heads turned to look at the green-haired girl of the Faith.

"Defeated or not, in a cell or not, Usurper or not; Prince Phobos is still of the blessed bloodline of King Escanor and Queen Leryn;" Sephiria declared. "He still is gifted with Magic. If given enough time to heal properly, to recover properly, to plan… he could escape. And if he has discovered a way to steal the Light of Meridian from the Princess, the true heir to the throne… he could do it again."

"The lass makes a point," Vathek said next, still rubbing his maimed hand.

"Vathek…" Caleb almost whispered.

"I'm sorry, but none of you spent years as close to Phobos as I did," the bulky blue Galhot argued. "The Prince may be mad, and he never was the smartest man that walked through the castle's halls, but that doesn't make him any less dangerous. The sooner he's dead, the better."

"Ha!" Jade let out a triumphant yet unhappy laugh. "See?! It isn't just me! And I bet everyone else agrees we should just kill that bastard! Right?!"

Jade then looked at the five teenage girls that composed the Guardians of Kandrakar. Perhaps the Ben-Shui reincarnation had been expecting that her friends would support her automatically, that they would jump to their feet and stand by her side. But that didn't happen. Instead the other five girls remained where they were, sitting over the chairs they had been provided with. The only thing that had changed was that Hay Lin's crying had grown quieter and weaker, having now become a soft sobbing.

At last, Will Vandom raised her head, and looked at Jade with sad, tired eyes. "I don't know," she said.

For a handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, Jade Chan stared at Wilhelmina Vandom. Then any trace of anger in the Chinese girl's face and eyes evaporated, leaving only the most gut-wrenching of looks.

"What?" Jade Chan asked in genuine confusion, as if her mind was unable to fully process what she had heard.

"I said… I don't know," Will repeated tiredly. "Everyone's making a good point, and..."

"Will!" Jade yelled her friend's name as tears began forming in the corners of her eyes. It was clear she hadn't screamed out in anger, or in hatred. No, Jade's had been a begging scream, a yell that implored her friend to support her in this matter.

"I'm trying!" Will yelled in return, tears forming in the corners of her eyes too. "I'm trying to… to see what the best option's here! To… To… To make sense out of all of this!" she shouted, yet her voice trembled with every word she said. She brought her hands to her head, burying her fingers in her red hair. "Listen, I would've killed Phobos myself if I'd had the chance at the Capital! But I… I don't know what to do now that we're here. I don't know what we should do, I don't know if we should do anything at all. Or if we've the right to, or…" Will looked at Jade again, and the Chan girl could see how the redhead's tears had begun falling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

"Will…" Jade said her friend's name once again, this time not begging, or angered. Will's name was soft, almost fragile; and heavy with anguish once it left Jade's lips. "I…"

Before Jade had any chance to continue, the door of the Small Council's room burst open, and none other than Gareth barged inside. All eyes turned then towards the newcomer, who now stood just in front of the entrance and was panting and sweating. It was clear that he had come running.

"What is the meaning of this?" the 'Mage' asked of the man. While she didn't rise her voice, she sounded and looked enraged by his sudden appearance. "I gave clear instructions that no one was to enter here and interrupt us until this meeting was over."

"My… My apologies, great Mage, but…" Gareth said as he tried to catch his breath. "But… you see…"

"Breathe. Calm down," Caleb said then. "It's alright. You wouldn't have interrupted us if it wasn't important. What is it?"

"It's… It's…" Gareth babbled. He then stopped and took two long breaths, calming himself. "It's Phobos."

Hearing the Prince's name was enough to make fury return to Jade Chan a hundred times stronger than before. "What's happened now? Has he escaped?" Jade's honey-brown eyes almost gleamed and her lips twisted themselves into an anxious and hungry grin. "Oh, oh, please. Please, tell me he's escaped. Tell me he's running through the Infinity City right now, so I can find him and bite his head off!"

Gareth looked at the girl that had been his direct commander for the past few months. "N-No…" he answered. "No, he's… he's dead."

Everyone in that room found themselves staring at Gareth once again. Vathek and Sephiria abruptly rose from their seats, the Baroness and Viceroy distanced themselves from Charles Ludmoore and approached the rest of the group, Drake almost choked in his fourth cup of wine. Jade's breathing began to become faster. For several moments, no one uttered a word.

"What do you mean he is dead?" the 'Mage' inquired at last.

"I mean… he's dead, great Mage;" Gareth answered, scratching his chest. "Some of us went to check on him in the prison, and when we arrived we saw him in the floor of his cell and… He's dead."

"How?" Sephiria inquired. She hadn't been the one to treat the Prince's wounds when he had been brought to the Infinite City (and if she had been asked to do so, she would have refused) but she had been assured by the members of the Faith that had healed the Prince that, albeit they hadn't put as much effort into it as they would have done for anyone else, there was no risk that the Usurper would die.

"His chest was purple, ma'am;" the man told the head of the Faith amongst the rebels. "I don't know how it's happened. It's as if something inside of him bled. His lungs or…"

"His heart," Jackie Chan said then, the first words he had spoken in the entirety of the time he had been in that room, earning himself a curious look from both Tohru and Viper.

And meanwhile, Jade Chan's breathing did nothing but continue growing faster. She walked until she reached the table, leaning against it with both hands, looking downwards. Dead? Phobos was… dead? The man who had killed Uncle was dead? Just… like that? So easily? Dying on a cell, from some weird heart attack? No chance for her and her family to confront him? To make him pay?! No chance for her to get her revenge?!

"Goddamn it!" Jade shrieked, raising her fists, coating them with her blood-red Chi Magic and bringing them down into the table.

There was a loud 'CRACK!' as the table broke in two and many splinters flew through the air. Drake reached for the pitcher of wine, but he didn't manage to catch it, and so it fell and shattered, the wine spilling all over the torn pieces of wood the table had been reduced to.

Her eyes full of tears, Jade Chan then turned around and stormed out of the room before anyone had any chance to react to her actions.

"Jade!" her uncle Jackie called for her, but she was already out of the room and couldn't hear him. And even if she could have heard, she wouldn't have stopped.

"I'll go, don't worry!" Irma Lair said suddenly, standing up and running after Jade.

Watching this, Caleb took a good look around himself. He rubbed his eyes with one of his hands, and sighed heavily. Things couldn't have gone any worse, and it was clear they all needed some time to rest, think and adapt.

"This meeting… is over," the rebel leader said tiredly. "You're all dismissed."

---

The halls of the Infinite City

Irma found Jade in a long and narrow corridor of the Infinite City; dirty, damp and cold. It was obvious the rebels didn't go through this one often (or didn't go through it at all), which was probably the reason why Jade had chosen it. The Water Guardian didn't enter the corridor instantly, though. She remained standing, in front of its mouth, for several moments. Listening to the sobbing and occasional loud cry that came from within it. She took a long, deep breath; arming herself with courage. Then she stepped inside.

"Jade?" Irma asked as she carefully walked forward. Of course it had to be darker within the corridor than out of it. It wasn't as if it was pitch-dark, but it was harder to see. It was in moments like these that she wished she had a power like Taranee's.

"L-Leave me a-alone!" came Jade's answer, voice trembling and feigning strength.

"Yeah, I'm not… not doing that. Christ," Irma answered, whispering the last word, as she stopped walking. She could see Jade perfectly now, and what she saw was heart-wrenching.

The Chan girl was sitting curled up in the cold, dirty floor; her back against one of the cold, dirty walls. She had her arms over her knees, and her face buried in them. And she was crying. And Irma Lair… Irma Lair didn't know what to do. Now that she was here the Water Guardian didn't know how to tackle this situation. She didn't know how to proceed. What was she supposed to do here? Say that she was sorry? Say that she would be there for Jade? Say that everything would be okay? Give her a hug? A part of her felt that she should do something like that... and another felt that those actions, those words, would be hollow. None of them would bring Uncle back to life, after all.

But then Jade lifted her head and looked at Irma. And the brunette saw how the white in the other girl's eyes had turned red from crying. Tears still fell from them and rolled down her also red cheeks, and there was a little bit of snot falling from her nostrils.

"I-It's m-my f-fault," Jade said, voice shaking. "I-If U-Uncle didn't c-come and s-save me, t-then..."

"Oh no, you don't!" Irma screamed, and in the next second all the questions plaguing her mind disappeared, and she was on her knees and she was pulling the other girl close to her and hugging her tightly. "It isn't your fault, you hear me?!" Irma said, and she felt tears coming to her eyes too. "It's his! His and only his," she told the other girl, talking about the now deceased Prince.

"I... I..." Jade babbled. "I hate him... I hate him... I should've... should've..."

"I know, I know;" Irma said tenderly, rubbing the Chan girl's back.

And there, in Irma Lair's arms, Jade Chan cried. And her cries were loud, and full of pain and rage.

---

Time later…

In a well lit and surprisingly clean room within the Infinite City, Jackie Chan sat on a very large bench made of stone. Well, perhaps simply calling it a bench wouldn't be appropriate, as it was more akin to a large piece of stone that had been put there so people could sit down. Regardless of that, it fulfilled its function as well as any true bench would. And it wasn't as if Jackie Chan did care about where he was sitting. He could be sitting on a chair, or the floor, and it would be the same to him. No, the only thing in that room Jackie Chan cared about was what was a few meters in front of him, neither too far away nor too close to him. For what was a few meters in front of Jackie Chan, lying over a bed (a proper bed, not some big sack filled to the brim with straw) and covered by a white sheet was... well, it was... it was...

It was Uncle's corpse.

It had been brought to the Infinite City alongside their unconscious bodies, according to Sephiria. The green-haired girl had also told him that the Faithful had tended to the body as best as they could, that they had sewn the wounds close, washed the body in order to cleanse it from any dirt, and soaked it in perfumes. That it was ready for whatever form of burial they wished to give him.

And yet, Jackie hadn't taken a look underneath the sheet. At all. He had come into the room, sat down and... he hadn't done anything else. He was... too tired. Weak. Or was he perhaps afraid? Yes, it was fear that kept him where he was, not any real lack of strength. Fear of standing up, walking to the bed, removing the sheet and staring at his Uncle's lifeless face. Fear of what kind of emotions that sight may stir within him.

"Irma's found your niece." he heard Viper's voice at his back then, taking him out of his thoughts and back to reality. "We've left her with the rest of the girls."

"Is she alright?" a concerned Jackie asked.

"No. But none of us are," Tohru's voice came next, followed by a deep and long breath. "The girls are getting ready to go back to Earth, and so should we. Once we have decided how… how we are going to bring Sensei's body with us," the mountain of a man added, his voice trembling slightly.

"Yes, I… I know," Jackie said, his voice shaking in a manner not so different from Tohru's.

At last the ex-thief and novice Chi Wizard reached the archeologist and sat by his side, Tohru at his right, Viper at his left. For the following minutes, none of them said anything. The three of them simply sat there in silence, staring at Uncle's lifeless body.

"Was it you?" Viper asked of Jackie, breaking the silence.

The archeologist looked at the ex-thief in mild confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"About Phobos." Viper answered calmly. "I'm no expert in any field of medicine, but I know what internal bleeding is. And what that rebel described, the purple chest and all that, sounded a lot like internal bleeding. And when we were fighting Phobos... I saw you hit his chest. So... was it you? Did you kill him?"

"Yes, it was most likely me." Jackie answered, then lifted the same hand he had struck Phobos' chest with and held it in front of his face. "I hit him with a Heart Jab. A technique from Dim Mak, or Pressure Point Fighting;" he explained, lowering his hand afterwards. "Designed to wound the heart directly, to make arteries explode. To kill." He paused, letting his words linger in the air for a bit. "I never intended to use it in my entire life." he continued, then he let out a short, sad chuckle afterwards. It was somehow funny; in a dark, cruel, ironic sort of way. Why had he learned how to perform that technique in the first place? To test his resolve not to take a life, the strength of his moral code. "Yet here I am."

"And how do you feel?" Tohru asked with concern.

Jackie shrugged. Empty, he wanted to say. That was the word that better described how the archeologist felt, or at least so he thought. Because Phobos was dead. And the Prince was dead by his hand. Jackie Chan had killed a man. He had taken a life. He had crossed a line he had sworn he would never cross. But he didn't feel guilty, or angry with himself. Because he doubted there was someone who would mourn Phobos. And he doubted the Prince could have become a better person if given the chance. Yet... Jackie didn't feel any joy, either. Nor did he feel any satisfaction from what he had done. Because he had killed Prince Phobos Escanor…

But Uncle was still dead.

And it was only now that Jackie Chan realized how true that statement was. It was only now that Jackie truly understood that Uncle was… gone. That he would never be back. That Uncle would never be there to share his wisdom anymore. That Jackie would never hear the elder's voice again. Never again see him smile. Never again feel his touch when they hugged, or the old man put a hand over his shoulder, or hit him in the forehead with his signature dope-slap.

"I don't know," Jackie said, in the end; unable to express with words everything that was going on within his head. "The only thing I know is that… Uncle is dead," he continued, and he felt tears coming to his eyes. It didn't take long for those tears to begin rolling down his cheeks. "And everything is worse."

---

The late Mage's workshop

After the meeting between the Rebellion's leadership, the Guardians and the Chan Clan had ended in such an abrupt manner; Nerissa Crossnic, her identity still hidden under the glamour spell that disguised her as the long dead Mage, had silently exited the Small Council's chambers. Then she had walked through the Infinite City's halls and corridors, only opening her mouth to address every rebel she came across and tell them that she was not to be bothered for the next few hours. Finally, she had reached her workshop; entering it and closing (and locking) the door behind her.

There, Nerissa had dispelled her glamour, taking on her true appearance. Leaving her long and twisted wooden staff leaning against the chair she usually sat at while reading; the Fallen Guardian walked towards one of the many tables that were in her workshop. Small and round, this one; with many old books with yellowed pages over it. Standing right in front of it, she took a deep breath, and…

"DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" she shrieked in anger and frustration, and with a quick and strong movement of her arms, threw every single old and yellowed book to the floor.

Furious, the old sorceress leaned against the now empty table with both her regular and metallic hands. Embedded in her left and metallic forearm, the Dragon Talisman threatened with lighting up and unleashing its powerful flames, while sparks of Quintessence danced around her whole body, bristling her hair momentarily.

"Why?!" she exclaimed. "Why did that idiotic Escanor brat have to die now?! Just when everything else was progressing so well…"

Oh, she knew that this final triumph over the Prince hadn't been achieved without sacrifice. She knew it very well. But she wouldn't mourn the death of Yan Lin's cousin. She wouldn't allow herself to. If she had to shed a tear for every innocent that had perished so that her dream of a peaceful, perfect, unified cosmos could come into being; then she would never stop crying.

But regardless of the price that had been paid, every piece had fallen in place in the way that Nerissa had hoped they would… and in some cases, in an even better one. Her son had been freed from the cursed Sword of Thanatos. The Rebellion had won the war. The Prince had been defeated, depowered and imprisoned. The young, naive Princess, with the power of the Heart of Meridian again on her possession, would soon assume the role of young, naive Queen. And when Kandrakar learned about that, the Veil would be lifted. And so, the board would be set for her to truly step into action, form her Knights of Vengeance and deceive the young Queen into surrendering the Heart of Meridian to her.

But she needed Phobos alive! Not because she cared about any public execution that would help the meridianite common-folk to move on with their lives, or help rebels and nobles to strengthen their ties; but because restoring Prince Phobos to power would have made for the perfect common cause to form her Knights of Vengeance around. Now that he was dead, all the effort she had invested in convincing young Elyon about sparing her brother, and her antagonizing of the Chans (which in turn had caused some discrepancies amongst the members of her Small Council), had been for nothing! Nothing!

"Calm… down." she told herself then, taking a deep breath afterwards. The sparks of Quintessence around her long, gray hair dissipated, and the Dragon Talisman didn't unleash any flame. "This is but… a minor setback. At most."

After all, did this really complicate matters all that much?

True, she had gone against young Jade Chan's vengeful desires, but what would that result in? Into making the girl and her family less likely to trust her words or follow her orders? Irrelevant. The war was over, and thus there was no need for her 'Mage' persona to remain in a commanding position. She would let her son (and the other rebel commanders) and the nobles to worry about lands, soldiers and coins… and she would take the role that the true Mage had had in life, that of link between Meridian and Kandrakar and wise advisor to the newest Escanor Queen. At least until her reign ended… by Nerissa's own hand.

And her Knights of Vengeance could, and would, still be assembled. United by their shared hatred of the Rebellion, the Guardians and the earthling family that had thwarted them so many times. And the ones that wouldn't join voluntarily would be made to join, either by appealing to their greed or through fear of Nerissa ending their sorry lives. As for the only member of the Knights of Vengeance that would truly care about the Prince's demise…

Nerissa left the small and round table, walking carefully so she didn't trip over one of the books she had thrown to the ground. Then she approached another of the workshop's tables, this one larger and square and with many flasks and vials full of strange liquids that constantly changed color over it… alongside a single, shinny crystal ball. She pointed at said crystal ball with her right hand's index finger, zapping it with a little bit of Quintessence. Soon, an image began to take form within the ball, showing her a middle-aged meridianite man, a half-breed; shriveled and starved, and dressed in nothing but rags. Nevertheless, the man was climbing the side of a dark, shadowy, wet, musty cliff with nothing but his bare hands and feet, only stopping to eat some strange plants he pulled from the cliff itself.

This was a man that everyone in Meridian but Nerissa believed to be dead. And truth to be told, the only reason Nerissa knew he was alive was because she had decided to check if he had survived after he had been thrown into this bottomless pit, this Abyss of Shadows, on a whim. Just to be sure. Imagine her joy when she had discovered that he had not only survived but was also climbing back up. Such determination! Such willpower! Truly, there was no one better than this man to lead her Knights of Vengeance!

"Well, for someone like you, avenging your dead lord and liege will be as good of a motivation as freeing him." Nerissa said to the image in the crystal ball as her lips curved into a malicious smile. "Won't it, Raythor?"

---

Across the Veil

The Browns' home

Back on Earth, the sun had begun to set on Heatherfield. And within the home of the Browns, Yan Lin, Alchemy Ethel and Matt Olsen had finished their last card game with the Guardians' Astral Drops. The pair of teens and the old Chinese lady had just begun gathering their belongings, getting ready to leave the house and make sure each Astral Drop ended in the right home, when bluish sparks began traveling through the whole room.

"This is... sooner than I expected," Yan Lin said, stroking her chin.

Then, after a loud and crackling sound, a Portal opened in front of them all, blowing the cards they had been playing with away. And mere seconds later, Wilhelmina Vandom, in her human form, stepped through it. Taranee Cook and Cornelia Hale did the same shortly after.

"Astral Drop," the redhead uttered, and with those words the magical doppelgangers of the Guardians of Kandrakar crumbled into tiny particles of light, and then into nothing.

"Will!" Matt Olsen exclaimed his girlfriend's name happily, rushing to her side, a smile adorning his face. But the smile disappeared the moment Matt took a look at the faces of the three girls, and saw that they were darkened by sorrow and tiredness. "What's wrong?" he asked, voice soft and full of worry.

"It's... We... the plan worked, but..." Will said slowly, as if pronouncing each word required a great effort. She rubbed her temples before continuing. "Then there was an explosion at... at the Capital... and we went there and... and we fought Phobos and... and..."

Will stopped and took a deep breath, taking her hands to her head and pressing its sides, as if trying to suppress a headache. And Matt softly put his hands over her upper arms, trying to help her calm down.

"Did something happen to Elyon?" Alchemy asked next, the redhead's words about 'an explosion at the Capital' having made her scared for the straw blonde's safety.

"No, no. Elyon's alright," Cornelia told her friend. "I mean, I haven't seen her… but they told us she's fine. Mrs. and Mr. Brown are with her."

"But then… What about Phobos? What about… everything?" Matt inquired. "What happened?"

"Phobos is dead." Taranee spoke then, adjusting her glasses, her voice dry and serious. Her words should have made them feel relieved and happy, but instead they made the air around them feel heavier. "There are still a few details to work out, but for all intents and purposes, the Rebellion has won the war. But…"

But something terrible has happened, Yan Lin thought.

Something that she didn't dare to think about, but that was undeniable. Because she had seen the expressions these girls had in their faces before… in her own face. And in the faces of Kadma and Halinor, her friends and fellow Guardians. All those years ago, when… when tragedy had struck them. When they had lost Cassidy. Had something similar happened to the current generation of Guardians? Had someone died? Oh no. Oh no, the others. Where were the others?! Where was her grandchild?!

Hay Lin did cross the Portal shortly after, to Yan Lin's relief. Sobbing and fighting back tears, but alive. Then she ran towards Yan Lin and embraced her in a tight hug. The old Chinese lady returned the hug, and her granddaughter broke into tears in her arms. But the owner of the Silver Dragon didn't care. The only thing that mattered to her now was that her little Hay Lin was alive. And yet… Irma was still missing. Could history have repeated itself? She hoped that wasn't the case. And fortunately, it wasn't.

Irma Lair was the last Guardian to come through the Portal, with one of her arms around Jade Chan's shoulders. It was the latter's look that pained Yan Lin's heart the most. She looked downright sick. Her hair was unkempt, her skin pale, there were thin bags under her eyes, which were also red from crying, and she walked very slowly. And when their eyes met, Jade evaded the old lady's gaze.

Finally, Jackie Chan, Tohru and Viper crossed the Portal; each of them with the same look of defeat in their faces as the girls. Yet the three of them were still alive. So Yan Lin looked into the Portal, daring to hope. And for the next moments, she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And the next person she locked eyes with was Jackie Chan, and the heartbroken look the man gave her made her understand that… No one else was coming through that Portal.

"No…" Yan Lin managed to say weakly, before she also broke into tears.

---

The Vandoms' apartment

It had taken them more than an hour to properly explain to Alchemy, Matt and Yan Lin what had happened in Meridian. Then Will, Irma, Taranee, Cornelia, Matt and Alchemy had agreed that it was better to leave the Chan Clan alone with Yan Lin and Hay Lin in the Browns' house; leaving for their homes afterwards. So by the time Will Vandom and Matt Olsen (who had insisted into accompanying her) made it to her home, night had engulfed Heatherfield completely. To their surprise they found the insides of the apartment Will and her mom lived at dark and empty. Shortly after they found a note that Susan had left stuck to the front of the fridge, explaining that she had had to cover for a friend from work that worked the night shift, that there were some leftovers from lunch Will could have for dinner inside of the fridge, and that Susan would be back very late. Which, frankly, was something Will was grateful for. The last thing she needed right now was for her mother to pepper her with questions about how the day had gone, and having to come up with convincing lies to tell her. She didn't have the energy for that.

So the redhead headed towards her room, with Matt following on her steps. She didn't have any intention of eating the leftovers in the fridge. She wasn't hungry. At all. And so, once in her room, she simply sat on her bed looking at her feet, while Matt stood at her bedroom's doorstep.

"Do you need… anything?" Matt asked his girlfriend awkwardly yet worriedly. "I could spend the night here if you need company. I mean, not in your room, of course. But I could sleep in the couch, or…"

"What? No, no; that's…" Will said then, also in quite the awkward manner, lifting her gaze to look at Matt before directing it to her feet again. "No. I'll be okay. I just… need some rest, that's all. And you also need to go back to your home, right?"

"Yeah…" Matt said, rubbing his neck.

But he didn't move from where he was standing. He didn't want to leave her alone, Will knew that very well. But he didn't know how he could tackle this situation. And neither did she. And so both teenagers remained silent for the following moments, not knowing what to say or do.

"It isn't fair," Will said at last. She had stopped looking at her feet and was now looking ahead, to no specific point in her room.

"What?" Matt asked.

"It isn't fair. Nothing about this is fair," the redhead said. "I didn't even want to be a Guardian when this whole mess started, you know? But Jackie gave me a pep talk, and I ended up picking this stupid pink rock," she said, pointing to the Heart of Kandrakar over her chest. "And for a time, things were… fine. Fun, even. I won't say there wasn't a part of me that didn't like basically being a superheroine, but then… then everything became a nightmare. And people were suffering, and dying, and I… Christ, I tried. I tried to… to minimize loses, to keep things under control, to make plans and make sure everything went according to plan, and…" she paused, rubbing her teary eyes. "Christ, he's dead. He's dead and we… we couldn't do anything."

"Will…" Matt said as he gave a couple of steps, reached her bed and sat at her side. He then tenderly wrapped her in his arms, and made her to lean against him. "Will, it isn't your fault. You can't save everyone."

"Then why have we done any of this?" Will asked, voice trembling. "After all the planning, all the victories, after how hard we've worked, after everything we've been through, everything we've had to do to win… He didn't deserve this. None of us did. We deserved something better. We deserved happiness. Deserve happiness. Is that really that much to ask for? It just isn't fair."

Matt hugged her tighter. He didn't say anything. Maybe he couldn't think of anything to say, or maybe he thought that nothing he could say could help in this situation. Yet his touch was enough to make Will feel better. To make her feel that he understood how she was feeling. They remained like that for a long time, almost half an hour. Then, when Will had grown calmer, she told him that it was time for him to go back to his house, otherwise his parents would worry. And so he did, bidding her farewell by kissing her forehead.

Alone, Will turned off the lights of her bedroom, slowly changed into her pajamas and got into her bed, covering her body with a thin sheet. It didn't take her long to fall asleep, but that was to be expected considering how tired she was.

In her dreams, Uncle Chan stood still and silent. With him were Count Cornelius and his mother the former Countess, Clarine. And with them were the soldier that Will had killed back during the Sack of Torus Filney, and many others… too many to count. Guards and rebels. Men and women. Old and young. And none were moving. None were saying anything.

They simply stared at Will with empty eye sockets.

---

Lair residence

In a similar way to Will, Irma Lair was currently lying over her bed in her pitch dark room. Contrary to the redhead, however, the brunette had had dinner (well, not dinner-dinner, she had eaten two slices of pizza) with her parents and little brother, and had been forced to talk to them about her day. To put on a fake smile and tell them how awesome it had been and how much fun she had had. To lie to them. It had made her feel sick. But she couldn't have done anything else. She knew that sooner or later they would have to tell their families about Mr. Uncle's death, but she ignored what exactly they were going to say. They couldn't simply tell them the truth… could they?

Would that be so bad? the Water Guardian thought. To come clean to our families? So we can finally talk about all this craziness to someone else?

She rolled over her bed. She had gone straight to her bedroom once 'dinner' had ended, arguing that she was very tired… which was technically true. But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how long she kept her eyes shut, she couldn't sleep. So she rolled over her bed again. Extending her arm towards her small bedside table, Irma grabbed her phone. She took the following moments to think about what to do with it. Check random Internet pages, text Jade, play a game, text Jade, watch a video, text Jade.

Text Jade.

But what to text? What to say? What to ask? What was Irma Lair supposed to do? Ask about how she was doing? Well, that was a stupid question. Jade was doing horribly, same as all of them. Maybe… Maybe texting Jade wasn't the best idea. But then what was she supposed to do? She could text any of the other girls to check on them. Would any of them be still awake, or…? Nah, they'd probably be asleep by now. And if they weren't, she bet they wouldn't feel like talking. Not now.

Damn it, Irma thought as she left her phone over the bedside table again. She rolled once more and stared at one of her bedroom's walls. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to sleep, needed to let her mind rest. But she couldn't. So she continued to roll over her bed, flipping her pillow from time to time. She spent the next three hours like that.

Then, her body finally yielded to exhaustion. And she fell asleep.

---

The next morning

The Cooks' home

Theresa Cook didn't remember a single day in her life in which her children had been able to wake up before she (or her husband) did. Especially during summer vacation. So when she woke up today, entered their kitchen and found her daughter sitting at the table, a pen in hand and scribbling something over a bunch of papers, with a bowl of milk and cereal by her side, she felt a little bit surprised.

"Good morning," Theresa greeted her daughter.

"Good morning," Taranee greeted back without rising her head nor lifting her eyes from the paper.

Weird, Theresa thought as she began preparing her own breakfast. In less than three minutes she was sitting just in front of Taranee, a mug full of hot coffee and a small plate containing peeled slices of kiwi in front of her. As she grabbed one of the kiwi slices and ate it, she couldn't avoid taking a peek at what her daughter was scribbling over that paper.

"Are you... solving equations?" Theresa asked with an arched brow.

"Yes," Taranee answered bluntly. And indeed she was. And quite well at that. The hand wielding the pen moved quickly, writing down number after number, symbol after symbol and formula after formula. Solving equation after equation.

"Why?" Theresa asked, sipping from her mug.

"It's relaxing," Taranee answered as she flipped the piece of paper she was currently writing in and continued writing on its backside.

"Relaxing," Theresa echoed her daughter's last word, sipping from her coffee mug once more.

"Yes, it's…" Taranee began to say, then stopped mid-sentence. The movements of her hand became slower but harder on the paper. "You wouldn't get it."

Oh dear. That doesn't sound good, Theresa thought, closing her eyes and leaving the mug over the table. She had suspected that something was wrong when Taranee had stayed mostly silent through last night's dinner, and this practically confirmed it. A part of her felt tempted to go back to her room and get her husband out of bed, but she was sure she could handle this on her own. Well, time to be a parent.

"No, no. I get it." Theresa spoke, eyes still closed. "Solving equations can be relaxing. Math is simple, after all;" she sentenced, opening her eyes.

Taranee's hand stopped moving. She let go of the pen and, finally, lifted her eyes from the bunch of papers full of both solved and yet to solve mathematical equations. She then took her glasses off, cleaned then in her pajama shirt, put them back on, and stared at her mother. Good, that was good. She wasn't talking yet, but at least Theresa had her full attention now.

"Which isn't to say that math is easy," the judge continued. "Far from it, math can be very, very complicated. But... every math problem, every equation, every operation; can be solved if you have the right tools. The right formulas. Sooner or later, you will simplify and solve them, and find the answer. The only valid answer. An equation or a problem can be solved in many different ways, using a variety of methods; but if their answer is, let's say, two… then it will be two. Always." Theresa made another pause and ate another kiwi slice. "That is why math is simple. Do you understand?"

"I… I guess I do," Taranee said after a couple of moments. Afterwards she chuckled somehow sadly, or at least that was how it sounded to Theresa. "There aren't a lot of things in life that work like that, are they?"

"No, no there aren't." Theresa answered. "We live in a very complex world, full of very complex people. And everyone has their own answer to the same question, and all of them sound valid. Which makes things like the truth look blurry, at best. And that can be scary, sometimes." Theresa paused, took her mug to her lips and emptied it. "Which brings me to my next question. What is bothering you?"

Taranee shrugged. "It's just…" the black girl began, then stopped and looked at her papers again. "I… I thought I knew how the world worked," she spoke, adjusting her glasses with a finger. "I didn't know all the details, but I had a good idea. But now everything seems so… so confusing and chaotic. And every time I think things are becoming a little bit more logical, every time I think things are going back to... to being normal and predictable, they just end up being more confusing than before. That's why I'm solving equations," she said, looking at her mother again. "They make… sense."

Theresa nodded a couple of times. She knew there was something her daughter wasn't telling her, but she decided that it was better not to push it. Besides, this kind of thing was normal for teenagers, wasn't it? To have doubts or feel confused when they began to realize how big the world really was and question the role they would play in it. Which reminded her…

"Does this have anything to do with you wanting to be a doctor?" Theresa asked her daughter.

Taranee narrowed her eyes and rested her chin on her hand. "Maybe," she said, not so sure herself.

Theresa nodded again. "Why a doctor?"

"Uhm?" Taranee inquired.

"You asked me if I think you could be a good doctor," the judge recalled. "And I think you could, I think you could be very good at it. I think you could be very good at many things. And I'm not saying this just because I'm your mother. You are intelligent, you are hardworking, you are well-organized. But I never asked you why a doctor, of all things."

"Because doctors save lives," Taranee declared seriously. Good, it seemed she was finally willing to speak her mind. "Isn't that reason enough? To help people? To try and make the world a little bit better? To make a difference? To try and stop people from… from…" for a second, Taranee's voice trembled; "getting hurt?"

"It's a very good reason. But that isn't what a doctor does," Theresa pointed out matter-of-factly.

Her mother's words startled Taranee. She stopped resting her chin over her hand and stared at the older woman, eyes wide-open behind her glasses.

"Yes, doctors save lives. They help people;" Theresa said. "To a greater or lesser extent, from pediatricians to surgeons, they all do. Mostly, they heal people. Which comes after they have been hurt. And there is nothing wrong with that," she continued, looking at her daughter's puzzled face. "And if it is what you really want to do with your life, then I have no objections. I'm not telling you all this because I disagree with it. I'm your mother, I love you, and I will support you no matter what. But… I need you to ask yourself what is it that you really want, and if being a doctor is the best way to achieve what you really want."

Theresa rose from her seat, taking her now emptied mug and plate and leaving them inside their kitchen sink. "And you don't have to give me an answer right now, or tomorrow or the next week. Or give me an answer at all. But it's important that you ask yourself these questions, and that you figure out the answers," she said, planting a soft kiss over the side of her daughter's head. She then left for the bathroom, leaving her daughter deep in thought.

---

Lin residence. At the same time

Within the darkness of her bedroom, Hay Lin had cried herself to sleep.

She had awoken only once through the entire night, and for a few but happy moments she had believed that everything had been a nightmare. But then she had remembered everything that had happened in Meridian, and seeing Uncle's lifeless body, covered by a sheet and brought through the Portal at the Browns' house over a little, wooden cart pulled by a pair of rebels. And she had remembered the feeling of her tears rolling down her cheeks, and the awful sound of her grandmother's sorrowful wails. And so Hay Lin had cried again, muffling her sobbing by burying her face into her pillow. Then she had fallen asleep once more, and had slept until morning.

And now that she had awoken a second time, she simply lied over her bed, not moving an inch. She could hear the voices of her parents and grandmother from time to time, at the other side of the door, exchanging words with one another. She was grateful that the restaurant wasn't open today, as that gave her the perfect chance to remain where she was. Frankly, she didn't feel like doing anything else. She had thought about getting out of bed, about opening the windows, throwing back the blinds and letting the sunlight and the air in... but she lacked the strength to do so. She lacked the strength to do anything.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Yes… Right now, that was what she wanted to do the most. It was better than being awake. In her sleep, there were no worries. In her sleep, there was no pain.

In her sleep, she didn't have to cry.

---

The alley at the side of the Silver Dragon

Today's morning had been a very tiring one for Yan Lin. Perhaps the most tiresome of her entire life. She had barely had any sleep, and when she had woken up she had had to tell her son and daughter-in-law about what had happened. About her cousin's death.

Of course, she hadn't told them the truth about how it had happened. She had said nothing of Meridian, the battle, the bloodshed, or the sword that had pierced her cousin's chest. No, she had instead told the lie that she and Jackie had crafted yesterday. That her cousin had died in his sleep, and that Jackie had called her early in the morning to tell her that. And now her son and daughter-in-law were waiting for her granddaughter to wake up, to tell her that same lie. A lie Hay Lin knew for the falsehood it was, but that she would pretend to believe. In order to keep up appearances, in order to protect their secrets. A situation that did nothing but increase Yan Lin's stress.

That was why she found herself where she was now, in the alley between the building that was both her family's restaurant and home and the building next to it; having gone out through the door of the Silver Dragon's kitchens. Because she wanted a moment alone. Because she needed a moment to breathe and think. To fully process what had happened, was happening and would happen.

My cousin is dead, she thought grimly. She began walking slowly, a gentle breeze of summer caressing her face as she did so. Jackie has lost the closest thing he has had to a father. Tohru has lost his mentor. Jade has lost someone she looked up to. The girls have lost an ally. I have… she felt tears coming to her eyes, and she clenched her teeth in frustration. I have lost a member of my family.

Yan Lin stopped and stared at the blue skies of Heatherfield. "Is this never going to change? Is this really how things are meant to be?" she asked, but the skies gave her no answer. "We fight, we struggle, we suffer. And even in victory we lose… so, so much. Is this what my granddaughter has been doomed to? To endlessly suffer until she is old and frail like I am, and the Heart of Kandrakar is given to the next generation of Guardians? Will they be doomed to suffer too? Is there no other way?"

Once again, the skies gave her no answer. And Yan Lin's hands clenched into fists, and she gave the skies a wrathful glare.

"Answer me! I know you can hear me!" the old Chinese woman within the alley shouted at the sky. "I know you are watching! You are always watching! It's the only thing you do! I...! I..." her screams became ash in her throat, and soon she found herself sobbing. "Please… Please, answer me. Please, tell me it's going to stop…" she begged. "Please, Himerish…"

But for a third time that morning, the skies gave her no answer.

---

Meanwhile…

In the rooftop of a nearby building, Nimue of Britannia stood alongside Mariko Takeda and Liam of the Fast World. From there they had watched the former Air Guardian exit from her family's restaurant into the alley. And they had watched her scream in anger and cry in sorrow. And now they watched as she made her way back inside.

"So the old Chi Wizard really is dead," Mariko Takeda said solemnly.

"Yes, that seems to be the case," the sorceress of jet-black hair declared, matching her pupil's mood. Then she raised her right arm and opened her hand. Soon, a group of seven little purple butterflies flew from different directions into the rooftop and landed on her palm. They had served their purpose well, these little ones, for she had left them on Heatherfield to keep an eye on the Guardians and their allies. It had been thanks to them that Nimue had learned about their victory over the Prince of Meridian… and the death of the man called Uncle. But now the purple-eyed witch thought that it was better to give those girls and their families some privacy. So the butterflies would be coming with her back to Japan.

"A high price to pay for victory, if you ask me;" Liam commented. "Nevertheless, the war on Meridian is over. Doesn't that mean it's time for us to make our move, lady Nimue?"

Nimue shook her head upon hearing the dark-skinned blond's words. "Meridian's war may be over, but the Veil around that world will not be undone immediately. And it's the Veil what limits my movements to Earth alone, and yours to only Earth and Meridian."

"So… we keep waiting?" Mariko asked, tilting her head.

"Only a little longer." Nimue explained. "It won't take long for the Oracle to lift the Veil, and then we will be free to travel to any world we want. In the meantime…" she said, giving a sad, sympathetic look at Yan Lin as the old Chinese woman finally disappeared from the alley. "In the meantime, we will leave them alone. So they can rest. So they can grieve."

The witch then snapped her fingers, and a purplish flash of light enveloped her two protegees and her, teleporting them back to Japan.

---

Hale penthouse

Cornelia had spent the morning doing mostly nothing.

She had woken up quite late, and she had left her bedroom even later. It had been then when she had found out that she was alone in her home. Her parents and Lillian had gone out for a walk and to buy some things, all explained in a note her mom had left for the Earth Guardian. In it she also told her not to worry, that they understood that she must be tired from yesterday, that she could sleep as much as she wanted and that they would be back soon. So the blonde had had breakfast. Next, she had taken a shower. Then she had gone into the living room and sat on the couch. And… that was it. That had been everything she had done until now.

She threw her head back, staring at the ceiling. She wondered how Caleb was doing in Meridian, how he was dealing with the mess that the battle's aftermath must have turned out to be.

She also thought about Elyon, whom she had wanted to talk with and see more than anything else. How was her best friend feeling? What was she going to do from now own? Questions to which the blonde didn't have any answer. At least not for the time being.

Her last thoughts were for the Chans and the Lins, and they were soaked in sorrow, confusion, anger and frustration. And the worst part was that, no matter how hard she tried, she knew she couldn't completely put herself in her shoes. She knew she couldn't truly understand what they were going through. Even if she tried to think about how she would feel if it had been her father, her mother or her sister who had been murdered by that bastard… No, no. She didn't want to think about that.

Just then she heard the sound of her home's door opening, followed by the voices of her parents and little sister; which made Cornelia stop staring upwards. Seconds later, Lillian burst into the living room carrying a big, oval-shaped, yellow and red fruit in her hands.

"Cornelia! Cornelia!" Lillian greeted her loudly, stopping right in front of her and holding the fruit over her head.

"Hey, Lillian…" Cornelia tiredly greeted her seven-year-old sister back, then arched an eyebrow once her brain had processed what her little sister was carrying and doing. "What's… that?" she asked, pointing to the fruit the little blond girl was holding over her head as if it were some strange trophy.

With a big smile, Lillian put the fruit in Cornelia's hands. "We bought mangoes!" Lillian said happily.

Cornelia held the fruit in her hands. She stared at it, then at her little sister's happy face, then at the fruit again. "Mangoes," she said, incredulous.

"Mangoes!" Lillian repeated with the same amount of cheerfulness.

"She insisted into buying them," Harold Hale declared as he made his way into the living room, passing a pair of fingers over his blond mustache.

Cornelia fought back the urge to roll her eyes. "You know she's going to take a bite of one of them and then say that she doesn't like them, right?" she told her father.

Lillian's smile vanished. "That's a lie! I'll eat 'em! I like mangoes!"

"Oh, it isn't a lie;" Cornelia teased. "You'll say 'Puagh! Puagh! I don't like them! It doesn't taste good! I wanna eat pizza!'."

"Okay, okay;" Harold said calmly before the conflict could escalate any further. "Lillian, why don't you go help your mother unpack everything?" he told his youngest daughter, putting a hand over her head. "I will be there in a moment."

"Okay," Lillian said, then blew a raspberry at Cornelia before running out of the room.

"And… she left me with the mango," Cornelia said, leaving the fruit over the couch. Then she chuckled a little.

"You know, I have told you this a thousand times, but you shouldn't tease your sister so much;" Harold said, sharing in her daughter's chuckling.

"I know, I know, it's just…" Cornelia said, waving her hand. She sighed. "I really needed to get my mind off things."

Her father looked at her with an arched eyebrow, a gesture that Cornelia had probably picked from him. "Did… Did something happen?" he asked with concern. Why was he always so good at reading her? Stupid question. He was her father. Of course he was good at these things.

Cornelia sighed again. It was quite ironic, now that she thought about it. She had hated learning the truth about his father, about how he knew magic was real way before she did and how he had been working for a criminal organization (and still did, technically). But now that gave her the chance to talk with someone else about her life as a Guardian. And she was grateful for that.

"Well, you see…" the Earth Guardian began.

---

Undisclosed location

Many hours later

The five leaders of the Dark Hand strolled down a corridor which's walls, floor and ceiling were made out of metal. The five of them walked side by side and in sync; the only sounds that could be heard through the corridor the ones product of their steps… and their words.

"Dead? The Chi Wizard is dead? Are you sure?" Theodore Riddle, dressed in black pants and a green turtleneck, hand gripping the eagle-shaped pommel of his cane, asked of Harold Hale.

"I'm sure." Harold, at Riddle's right and dressed in his usual business suit of light browns with a yellow shirt and an equally brown tie, answered the old, bald man's question. "Cornelia wouldn't lie to me about something like this. And I suppose the Chans will confirm it in a few days."

"Pity," Riddle said, scratching one of his thick eyebrows.

"Why?" Vanessa Barone, the Eye of Aurora still around her neck and walking at Riddle's left, asked while adjusting her scarlet long-coat. "Is that detrimental to our operations in any way? Because I think it does us more good than harm."

"Vanessa has a point," Bartholomew Chang, walking at the group's far left, declared as he caressed his prosthetic jade hand. "I don't think that old man would have ever shared our vision."

"But he was a useful asset, my friends;" Bau Farouk, dressed in a suit not very different from Harold's but white, with a black shirt and white tie; and walking at the group's far right, pointed out. "Chi Wizards with as much experience and knowledge as he had are very scarce."

"Indeed," Riddle said, sighing. "How many spells, either learned from the mouth of others or of his own invention, to which we could have given use at some point, did he leave undocumented? Now all of them are lost forever. It's such a waste…" Riddle hit the ground with his cane, and his mood lightened. "Well, there is no changing that now. Let's focus on more important things."

The five Dark Hand leaders had reached a door made of the same metal as the corridor. Once they were mere centimeters away from it, the door slid open, allowing them to enter a large room. And contrary to the corridor, this room was bustling, full of people that run from one point to another, checking on large machines at the room's sides, while others sat and operated several rows of computers. And at the end of the room, there was a large glass window that allowed the Dark Hand's leadership to peer into another, even larger room.

"Doctor Necrosis!" Riddle called as the five of them made their way towards the large glass. "You promised me everything would be ready for the test by the time we arrived."

"Mr. Riddle!" a pale, bald, and extremely thin old man with the longest white sideburns and goatee any of the Dark Hand leaders had met in their entire lives, dressed in white pants, a bright red shirt and a lab coat over it; said as he ran towards them as fast as his old body allowed him to. "My… My deepest apologies, it's just… ah…" the man said, panting. "Some of the sorcerers you assigned to work with me suggested a last-minute adjustment in the device's design… Please, understand that a device as complex as this one has never been built before, and I have to work with so many wizards and witches that disagree at every turn, and…"

Riddle raised a hand, silencing the other old man. "Doctor Necrosis. I took you out of your cell, I gave you nearly infinite resources, a crew under your complete command, and I let you work in your life's passion: the building of weapons of mass destruction by merging technology and magic." Riddle said seriously, a thinly veiled threat in his words. "The only thing I ask in return are results… and some punctuality."

Necrosis' eyes shone and his lips curved into a devilish smile. "Five more minutes. Give me that to make sure everything is in order, to make sure the cameras are ready to record every last detail, and I shall show all of you what my greatest invention to date is capable of."

"Very well," Riddle obliged, and Necrosis left them, running away with much more energy than he had done before.

This allowed the five leaders of the Dark Hand to finally reach the glass window, and take an actual good look at the other room. It was massive, built in the shape of a circle. The most interesting part, however, was what was inside the room. First, there were many animals: enormous bulls, little rabbits, birds of many species, monkeys, rats, dogs… There were dozens of them, perhaps there were even more than a hundred animals in that room. Second, there was another thing in that room, just in its center. A thing protected by a strong, metallic cage.

A metallic black sphere, no bigger than a basketball ball.

It didn't take much longer for Doctor Necrosis to have everything ready. Then one of the Doctor's direct underlings gave each of the Dark Hand leaders a pair of safety sunglasses.

"You may activate the device when you see fit, Doctor;" Riddle instructed.

Necrosis nodded and put on a pair of safety sunglasses of his own, as did everyone else within that room. He then sat at one of the room's many computers and typed some commands in the keyboard. Soon the whole screen went blue and showed a single word in capital white letters: ACTIVATE.

"This is Doctor Ashby Necrosis," the old man said for the recording cameras. "In charge of developing and now testing SAFE-004. Also known as…" he declared proudly as he used the mouse to click on the ACTIVATE word.

"The Big Rip Bomb."

---

San Francisco; Section 13 Headquarters

Around the same time

In one of the interrogation rooms of Section 13, a tired Captain Augustus Black sat at a small, square table. Sitting across him was a man that the Captain loathed. A man that had come close to ending the Captain's life, and that had ended or ruined many others. A man that Captain Black had wished to see behind bars more than anything else.

This man was Niles Valmont, former head of the Dark Hand's American branch. And he had seen better days.

His signature green suit, black shirt and yellow tie had been exchanged for a dull, orange prison uniform. His flaxen and pale-blond hair was dirty and disheveled. At least they had allowed him to keep the ponytail. He also seemed to have lost some weight, something Captain Black blamed more on whatever lifestyle Valmont had led between the time after he had been freed from Shendu's possession and the time he and the Enforcers had tried to sneak into Section 13 in order to steal the Talismans. And of course he was handcuffed. To think that there had been a time in which this man had been virtually untouchable…

"Is there anything else you want to say?" Captain Black asked, rubbing his temples. The leader of Section 13 had spent the last hour questioning Valmont, trying to find out if the disgraced crime lord knew something about some new information regarding the other branches of the Dark Hand that Black could use against them. But Valmont either told him things that Black already knew, or he pettily insulted the Captain.

"When are you going to let me make my call?" Valmont asked smugly.

"Call?" an incredulous Captain Black asked. "Valmont, you have a criminal record longer than I am tall. Theft, extortion, multiple bank robbery sprees… And that's without taking into account that you escaped from a maximum security prison and you assaulted the United States Mint and Fort Knox." Captain Black rose from his seat. "Neither you nor your three mooks are getting any call. And this conversation is over."

Captain Black turned on his heels and began walking, exiting the interrogation room seconds later. "Bring him back to his cell," he ordered the pair of Section 13 agents standing guard by the door. Then he kept walking. He had an important meeting, after all.

As Augustus Black made his way through the insides of Section 13's underground base, he went into its prison ward and walked in front of a large cell containing three very... peculiar prisoners.

"Hey, Bald Eagle!" came the voice of a middle-aged, redheaded, Irish-American pale man with an angular face and a sharp nose. Dressed in another prison uniform and that leaned against the cell's bars, this was none other than Finn, one of Valmont's three Enforcers and the trio's unofficial leader. "Where'd you take Big-V, man?"

Black rolled his eyes. "If you really are so worried about your boss, he will be back in his cell," he explained, pointing to the cell adjacent to theirs; "in a few minutes."

"Yeah, he better be!" Chow, a short, black-haired Chinese man with a round face and wearing a pair of orange sunglasses, said as he also approached the bars.

"And he isn't our boss anymore! We're business partners!" said the third Enforcer, Ratso. A tall and bulky man with pale (and somehow grayish) skin, a long face and short, spiky, black hair; that now stood behind his two fellow criminals.

Black ignored them and kept walking. It still intrigued him where such devotion and loyalty to Valmont came from. Ever since they had been imprisoned, the few words the fallen crime lord had had for his former underlings had been mostly insults. Yet they still respected him, and thought he respected them in turn. Was it genuine respect? A leftover of the fear Valmont must have instilled in his employees' hearts when he was powerful? Or just plain stupidity? Black didn't know… and frankly, he neither wanted to know nor had the time to discover it.

Finally, after going down a set of stairs, the Captain of Section 13 arrived at his destination. A lonesome, old door that led Augustus Black into a lonesome, old room. No table, no chairs… There was nothing in there but a single, old light-bulb hanging from the ceiling, bathing the room into a yellowish light. And under said light-bulb was a man that had been waiting there under the Captain's orders. A tall, well-built Caucasian man with a strong chin, dressed in a pair of green pants and a black shirt. He had green eyes with bags under them; and short, brownish-blonde hair and thick eyebrows of the same color. In his left hand, he held a white folder. This man was Agent Taggart McStone, or Agent Tag for short. The best agent of Section 13, at least where magic wasn't involved. And a man Captain Black considered a friend.

"Good to see you, Captain;" Tag greeted Black as the Captain locked the door, offering him his right hand.

"Agent Tag" Black greeted in turn as he shook Tag's hand, smiling. "Good to see you too."

"So, how did the talk with our dear Valmont go?" the agent asked.

"As well as I expected," Augustus Black answered.

"Ah, he insulted you and your entire family, and said nothing useful, then?" Agent Tag inquired, arching an eyebrow.

"Not necessarily." Black answered, not without a hint of pride in his voice. "Valmont thinks he's pretty smart, but actions talk louder than words. Valmont's silence tells me more than whatever he says or could say."

"And that means?" Agent Tag asked once more.

"He's afraid, Tag;" Captain Black explained. "He's afraid the rest of the Dark Hand will kill him if he talks about them. He's certain that they will, in the moment he talks. And he's certain they will be able to kill him… here. Here in Section 13. Not in a prison, or in the streets, but here. Which means that Valmont believes that the Dark Hand either has the means to assault Section 13 to kill him, or…"

"Or they already are inside Section 13," Agent Tag finished for him.

Black fell silent, then nodded. "I take you have been able to do what I asked you to do."

Agent Tag handed Captain Black the folder he had been holding. "I have to admit, following those threads Ross left you was quite hard. The Dark Hand covers its tracks very well…" the agent smirked, "but I'm the best at what I do."

As Agent Tag talked, Captain Black opened the folder. Within it there were several documents… and several photographs. "Who took these?" Black asked, holding the photographs that had gotten his attention the most.

"A kid," Agent Tag said, chuckling a bit at the irony. "Can you believe it? A normal kid from Hong Kong, taking pictures with his phone. The place is near the city, so a lot of kids with a lot of time in their hands go there to, you know, drink and party. It must have gotten his attention, and he took some pictures. We are lucky he didn't upload them to the Internet."

"This is Shendu's palace," Captain Black said with surprise, narrowing his eyes at the pictures.

"What is left of it, yes. Apparently, not all of it crumbled away when we blasted the Big Bad Dragon into oblivion." Agent Tag declared. "If you look at the photographs, you will see a group enter the ruins and leave. One of them may look quite familiar…"

"Silla," Captain Black uttered darkly, staring at the photograph. Staring at the figure clearly leading the group… holding a certain Oni Mask in his hands. "That's Raphael Silla."

"The documents that go with the pictures," Agent Tag continued, pointing to the folder. "They are transcriptions of some very interesting talks I've had with some folks around the globe while in some of my disguises. Turns out our wonder-boy Raphael Silla used to be a mercenary, and…" Tag grimaced; "quite the good sniper, I've heard. He has worked for the Dark Hand and other employers doing all manner of things, but especially what they call 'clean-ups'. If someone needed to disappear, it was Silla who was tasked with doing it. Of course, there are no records of this. It's been all erased. And speaking of complicated pasts… then there's Harold Hale."

"What about him?" Black asked.

"The exact opposite," Agent Tag declared. "There are a lot of documents regarding Hale. Birth records, school records, vaccination records... even some old pictures of him and his parents. But nobody knows anything about him prior to his adult years. Nobody. The people that went to the same school and high-school as he supposedly did don't remember ever meeting him." Agent Tag paused for a couple of seconds. "His parents are even worse. Legally they existed, but..."

"But no one that should have met them actually remembers that there were any Mr. and Mrs. Hale," Black finished. "Because there weren't. Because Harold Hale doesn't exist." Black's eyes darkened. "It's as Ross suspected in his journal. Those records, that life... it was all fabricated. Same as Silla's past was erased."

"By the Dark Hand," Agent Tag stated. It was not a question.

"It's the only possible explanation," Black declared. He then frowned, eyes shining with anger, and the next sound that escaped from his mouth was more akin to a growl than anything else. "And if that's true... then everything that happened on Heatherfield was staged."

"International crime syndicate or not, Captain;" Agent Tag said, "doing that would require a lot of power and connections. Like the ones of a high-ranking government official."

"I know," Captain Black said.

"And we know who Silla works directly for," Agent Tag continued. "And you know it was Mr. Folkner who pushed the other higher-ups to allow Hale to be our mole."

"I know, Taggart;" Black said, a little bit angrier.

"And... we still don't know how the fifth leader of the Dark Hand actually... looks." Agent Tag finished.

"I know!" Captain Black shouted. Then he breathed deeply, calming down. "I just... can't believe it."

"Have we been compromised?" Agent Tag wondered. "Or have we been puppets since the beginning?"

"I don't know," Captain Black declared, putting the photographs back into the folder. "We need more information. For now, we will proceed as if Section 13 has been compromised, and we will proceed quietly. If the Dark Hand wants to play a game of shadows, then I will play and win it." he declared with conviction, handing the folder back to Agent Tag. "Make copies of these and put them in the safest place you can find." Black paused, passing a hand over his bald head. "We'll need some help."

"Who have you thought of?" McStone asked.

"Kepler, Oliver, Mickey…" Captain Black listed the three men that, aside from tag himself; he had known for the longest time and trusted the most. Then he sighed. "I don't think I can't trust anyone else."

"Five men against the greatest conspiracy on the world, then?" Agent Tag asked. He then shrugged, smirking. "I've had worse odds against me."

Captain Black had to laugh upon hearing those words. "I plan on approaching people that aren't part of Section 13 and that would never work for the Dark Hand, but I'll need to be very careful and approach them slowly and one by one, without raising suspicion," he explained. "In the meantime, focus your investigations on the Dark Hand's American branch and in Victor Folkner himself. You know where and when it's best to find me if you need to tell me something." Captain Black offered him his hand. "Godspeed, Agent Tag."

Taggart McStone shook the Captain's hand with pleasure. "Same to you, Captain Black."

Minutes later, Captain Black left the room, walking away through a completely different path than the one he had walked through in order to arrive. There were no cameras neither in that room nor in the hall it was in, but the rest of Section 13 was very different. As he walked, he put his hand into his pocket and turned on his mobile phone. And minutes after doing that, the phone rang.

"Black," the man greeted once he had taken his phone to his ear. "Jackie?" he said, recognizing the voice of his friend at the other side of the phone. "No, no, you aren't bothering me, in fact I was going to call… What? Talk a bit slower, I can't… What?"

Captain Black froze. His mind forgot completely about Agent Tag, the people he had to talk with and whatever game the Dark Hand was playing. Had… Had he heard his friend correctly? "I…" he muttered. He didn't know what to say. He… "I'll be on Heatherfield as soon as possible," he ended up saying just before hanging the phone.

---

Across the Veil

Two days later. The Infinite City

Sephiria, daughter of Sarah, allowed herself a moment to take a deep breath, sit down at a wooden stool, and rest.

The last couple of days had been a complete nightmare. On top of healing the wounded product of the Battle of the Meridian Plains, the Faithful had had to treat the rebels that had been injured during the assault that Drake had led into the Capital. She had only slept, at most, six hours through the whole ordeal. The rest of those days' hours she had spent cleaning, sewing and bandaging wounds. She had to admit the Horse Talisman had been of great help with that... at least until the Faithful had had to return it to the Chans so they could take it with them back to Earth. Fortunately, the Princess (and soon-to-be Queen), the almighty Light of Meridian made flesh, had come to help them then; even against the protests of many of the Faithful, who had told her it was beneath her to get involved in something like that. Nevertheless, she had done so. And it had been breathtaking to behold, the Princess using the Light of Meridian to completely heal many people the blink of an eye. Of course, she hadn't healed everyone. She had only healed close to a third of them, in fact. There were too many. Yet Sephiria knew that if the Princess hadn't helped, then her hands would still be drenched in the blood of some poor soul she would be trying to keep alive.

Now there were almost no wounded that needed treatment left. Oh, there were many that had a very long and painful recovery ahead of them, as wounds closed (and luckily didn't get infected) and became scars. Others had lost a limb or two... or part of them, such as in Vathek's case. Others had lost their sanity. Many others had simply died.

But Sephiria knew she could do very little to help there. For better or for worse, her duty and role as a member and leader of the Faithful amongst the rebels was mainly that of a healer. And the healing had been done. Yet the young, green-haired nun knew of something else she wanted to do before she finally returned to her chambers. And that something was to check on Aldarn.

Ever since Aldarn had been freed from that accursed Mask and left in a state of long-sleep, it had been mostly Sephiria who had been taking care of him. Cleaning him, feeding him soups and water. Watching him as his body began to grow thinner. Things that she hadn't had the chance to do herself these past few days and that she had entrusted to a novice of the Faith. But now that she could, she wanted to see him for herself. Because, even if she hadn't been as close to him as Caleb had, Sephiria also thought of Aldarn as her friend.

That was why she was here right now. In Aldarn's room. The problem was that… Aldarn wasn't there.

The only thing over the bed was a folded piece of paper.

---

Sometime later…

Within his personal bedchambers in the Infinite City, Caleb, son of Julian; swung a blade in complete silence. He wasn't swinging at anything in particular. Not at a training dummy, nor at a rival or at an adversary. He simply swung at thin air. He wasn't trying to measure his skill, but his strength. Why was he doing this? Because he... he was free. Free from the Sword of Thanatos.

He remembered so little. Small glimpses of it. As if it all had been some bizarre nightmare. He remembered the relief and peace he had felt when he had given into the anger, when the Sword had twisted him into the Berserker once more. He remembered how that relief and that peace had turned into agony when he had found himself laughing as he killed everyone that crossed his path. He remembered Blunk saying... something. Then nothing. Cornelia had told him that he had appeared out of nowhere and tried to kill Phobos. But the Prince had broken the cursed blade. And the next thing Caleb remembered was waking up in the Infinite City and... and everything that had followed.

That was why, now that he had the chance, he was practicing with this completely normal sword. To see if being freed from the Sword of Thanatos after being tied to it for so long had affected his body in any negative way. So far, he had felt nothing wrong with the way his body moved. So he sheathed his blade and left it leaning against his bed. Then his attention shifted to the chair and table at the opposite end of the room. Or, more precisely, to the piece of folded paper over said table. He had to admit that... he had been practicing partially to avoid focusing on it.

He sat down at the table and stared at the paper. He knew it contained a message. Aldarn's message. A part of him was eager to open it. Another dreaded doing so. In the end, his hands almost moving on their own, he took it in his hands and unfolded it. Then he began to read.

I'm sorry, Caleb. I think that is the first thing I want to, and I should, say.

I woke up three days ago, but I didn't tell anyone. By the time you read this, I'll probably be as far away from the Infinite City as my body allows me to. Don't search for me. Don't put the blame on the priest taking care of me either, he knew nothing. I don't know where I'll go, or what I'll do. But I know I can't stay here. I don't want to. I don't think I deserve it.

I made a mistake, Caleb. Using that Mask, challenging you. I… don't think, now, after everything that's happened, that I did the right thing. I should have, at least, talked with you, discussed things. Hate blinded me, chained me, made me act without reason. Now I know that. But… that hatred is still within me. I still hate them all, Caleb. I think a part of me, no matter how small, will always hate them. And I don't know if I will ever have the same strength you had. The strength to let go of that hatred, to understand how dangerous it can be. What I know is that, as I am now, I can't be of much help. I need to think about a lot of things, and I believe I need to do that alone.

You are still my friend. And if I ever come back, I hope you can forgive me.

Caleb read the message two more times before leaving it over the table once more. He threw his head backwards, and felt his lips curving into half a smile as a bittersweet feeling overtook him. Yes, Aldarn was gone. Yes, he had a long way ahead of him. But if the words he had left behind in that piece of paper were true, then he was still his friend. And Caleb had faith that his friend would come back. Perhaps, in the future, there would be a day when the two of them could laugh together as they had once done. And that filled the rebel leader with hope, not only for Aldarn but for the whole of Meridian.

Caleb rose from his seat and made his way towards the door, leaving the message and his new sword behind. There still were many people he needed to talk to, many things he needed to do, and many places he needed to be at.

---

One day later

The Royal Palace

Elyon stood in the balcony of her bedchambers, looking at the city, at the Capital of her kingdom. The fires had long been extinguished, and the houses and other buildings, as well as the castle-walls and the Royal Palace; had been rebuilt. Elyon had taken care of that herself, with the power of the Heart of Meridian.

Now the rebels had taken control of the castle and its walls, while the Guard patrolled the streets. And with each passing hour, more and more people crossed the city's outer walls; be either by foot, riding a horse, or in a cart. Commoners returned to their homes, merchants to their shops and stalls in the markets. It was almost as if nothing had happened. But it had. Christ, it had.

Her brother was dead. He had died in the cell they had put him in. Alone. That was what the rebels had told her. And Elyon wasn't sure how to feel about that. Because now she could see clearly that her brother had been a monster. Because all the people she had seen bleeding and screaming in pain in the Infinite City had been hurt because of him. Because all the people she had seen in the castle's halls crying, mourning the loss of a loved one had lost friends and family because of him. Because Jade had lost her old Uncle because of him. And if it hadn't been for the Mage, Elyon would have killed him herself. But at the same time, Elyon couldn't avoid thinking that the last person in this world, in all worlds, that shared her blood, was gone forever. And the thought wasn't enough to make her grow sorrowful, to make her lament his death and miss him, but… Was there a part of her that still wished that all the lies he had told her had been true?

She sighed, turned around and entered into her bedchambers, sitting on her bed. Regardless of how it made her feel, her brother was dead, and the world moved on. She was going to be Queen, or so everyone said. Queen. The word made her feel scared and insecure. Because she understood that from now on it would be she ruling this world and its people. And she was scared that she wouldn't be good at it. She knew almost nothing about ruling. But she would try her hardest. She would try to be the best Queen she could be. She thought she owed the people of Meridian, her people, that much.

Three hard knocks against her door took her out of her thoughts. Seconds later, her mother's voice came from the other side.

"Elyon?" Miriael asked softly. "There's someone here that wants to see you."

"Uhm?" Elyon mumbled. "Oh! Oh, yeah. I mean… Let them in." she answered as she sat up from her bed and straightened her dress. Who could it be now? The Mage again? Rebels? Nobles? Tristan? She hadn't seen the white-haired boy since their return to the Capital. She knew he was still hanging around the Royal Palace, but they hadn't talked with each other since. She would like to thank him for everything, and ask him what he was going to do from now on.

Yet that thought and all the others were forgotten the moment the doors of her bedchambers opened, and Cornelia Hale and Alchemy Ethel stepped inside. Elyon froze, staring at the blonde and auburn-haired girl with her eyes wide open.

"Hi… Elyon," Cornelia greeted tense and awkwardly.

"We're sorry that we've come without warning, but we wanted to see you and we don't really have a way to talk with you, so…" Alchemy said, scratching the back of her head, momentarily looking at her feet before looking at Elyon again. "Here we are."

Cornelia sighed then. "Look, I know we've been through a lot. I know there's also a lot we need to talk about, and believe me when I say that these last few days have been a crazy nightmare for everyone, but…" Cornelia closed her eyes, frustrated. "I guess that what I'm trying to say is…" the blonde breathed deeply, opening her eyes again. "I know I wasn't always… the best of friends, but I think I've changed, I think all of us have changed. And I know you made a lot of mistakes too, and I know your brother did something horrible to you. And… I'm still your friend, Elyon. We both are," she said, looking at Alchemy. "And we care about you. So I want to ask you, after everything that's happened… Do you still think of us as your friends?"

Elyon didn't say a word. She just stood there, looking at the pair of girls. Her oldest and closest friends. The ones she had betrayed and abandoned for the empty promises of a madman… and that even then had risked their lives in order to safe hers.

"Elyon?" Alchemy asked. "Please, say something."

But Elyon didn't. Instead, the soon-to-be Queen found himself rushing towards her friends, pulling her arms around Cornelia, burying her face on her chest and crying.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…" the straw-blonde said between sobs. "I'm so sorry, Cornelia… I…"

"Elyon…" Cornelia said sadly, tears forming in her eyes too.

"It's okay," Alchemy said then, putting a hand over Cornelia's shoulder and using the other to rub the crying Elyon's back. "Everything will be okay."

Elyon wasn't so sure about that. But she still had her friends. Even after everything she had done, she still had them. And that, at least, brought some comfort.

---

Hours later

The Palace's dungeons

Lothar, Captain of the Guard, found his current predicament quite ironic.

They had imprisoned him in a cell within the dungeons beneath the Royal Palace, like he had done in the past with many others. It was a big cell, clearly meant to contain far more than a single prisoner. No windows, of course. But there was a big, soft bed; over which Lothar was lying right now. And a small table just at the bed's side, where each day his jailers left a pitcher full of water and tray with food. Fried meat, mostly; but there was also the occasional apple or orange. Those were… quite the privileges and commodities for a mere prisoner. And then there was the fact that they had cleaned, treated and bandaged his wounds.

They want me to survive, Lothar thought. More, they want me to feel safe. They want me to understand that, even if I'm a prisoner, they don't see me as their enemy. Or is it that they don't see me as a threat? Or is it a way of saying that there is no need for me to try escaping? Lothar chuckled sadly as he slightly lifted his head in order to take a look at himself. As if I could escape, even if I wanted to…

He had lost his left leg. Not entirely, but his knee and everything below was gone. Now there was only his thigh, completely bandaged so it could heal and become a proper stump. It still hurt, albeit not as much as it had when he had been injured or in the hours that had followed. It was more of an itchiness, truly. But Light of Meridian, the last days had been a nightmare. His memories of the end of the battle were blurred by the pain. He remembered talking with a guard, then darkness. Then the unbelievable pain as they healed his wounds and sewn them. Then came the fever, and drifting in and out of sleep, the nightmares, the hallucinations.

Now, at least, the fever was gone and he was able to remain conscious. His mind played no more tricks on him, either. He supposed that was the reason why they had come to visit him now. He didn't know who they were, nor how many there were. But he knew someone was there, just in front of his cell. There was a Passling among them, that was for sure. The smell was unmistakable.

Slowly, fearing that any abrupt movement would result into some of his wounds opening, Lothar incorporated. Needing more effort than he would have liked to admit, he managed to sit at the edge of the bed, the single foot he had left against the ground. There, the man of the grayish-green hair finally looked outside the bars of his cell.

There was a Passling. Short and green, and exuding a strong and fusty odor like all Passling-folk did; he was staring at Lothar with his big, orange eyes... and a kind smile on his face. Lothar also saw that there was something lying at his feet. Something big, wrapped in a brown cloth.

But it was the person right next to the Passling that caught most of Lothar's attention. A teenager of brown hair and green eyes with a scar that traveled from left to right of his face, just above the nose and under the eyes; sitting on an old chair. Lothar recognized him instantly. Caleb, son of Julian. The leader of the Rebellion.

"What do you want?" were the first words that left Lothar's mouth in days. It was only now that he heard himself that he noticed how weak and tired he sounded.

"To talk," the rebel leader answered.

Lothar nodded a couple of times in acknowledgment. He took a better look at the green-eyed teen then, noticing that he carried no sword, or any other weapon. But why would he need one? Lothar was a cripple. And if his suspicions were correct (and judging by the presence of this boy here, they were), then this castle and the entirety of the Capital now belonged to the rebels. He had nothing to fear.

"I take that the nobles lost at the Meridian Plains," Lothar said sullenly.

"Yes, they did;" the rebel leader answered.

"Did you kill them?" Lothar asked in a somber tone, readying himself for the worst.

"No," the rebel leader answered, shifting his posture. "Well, the Count Cornelius of Lannion, who was on our side, and the Duke Jedah of Drakenburg did die during the clash. But the rest of the nobles surrendered after the battle was won. We forced them to."

"And why should I believe that?" Lothar inquired. The Rebellion winning by some fluke of fate or some clever tactic was possible… But them sparing the nobles? More, forcing them to submit? The Captain of the Guard found that hardly believable.

"What could I possibly gain from lying to you here and now?" the rebel answered with his own question. And he made a good point, too. "Believe it or not, we aren't foolish enough to ignore that the nobility is necessary to keep the Great Cities, towns and villages of the Middle Rim under control, and Meridian peaceful." Caleb, son of Julian, explained. And as he talked, Lothar looked into the face of this man that was only a handful of years younger than he was, and he had to admit he saw no lie in his green eyes. "I wouldn't go as far as to call them our allies, but… for the moment, we have peace."

Peace, Lothar repeated within his mind. The word sounded so strange to his ears. Almost foreign. "What about Phobos?" he asked.

"Dead," the rebel leader said bluntly. "Buried in some unmarked grave by now. I ignore the details. The Faithful took care of it."

Good, Lothar thought. No other word came to mind when thinking about the Prince's demise. "And the Princess?"

"Above, in the castle. She'll be crowned Queen as soon as possible," the rebel leader told him. "She's also on our side now," he remarked. "And by her own choice."

With every word that left the rebel leader's mouth, it became clearer and clearer to Lothar that the war had been lost. That there weren't 'sides' anymore. The nobles had been defeated, Prince Phobos was dead, the Princess with her almighty power had switched sides, and Lothar himself would never see battle again. It had taken them almost fourteen years, but the rebels had triumphed. The dust had settled, and the Rebellion stood victorious.

"And… my men?" Lothar asked then, having left the question he wanted to know the answer to the most for last. "The Guard?"

"Taking care of the Capital, patrolling the streets, making sure everything goes back to normal," the rebel leader told him. "We hold the castle and its walls, but nothing else."

"You… have left the Guard be?" Lothar asked his next question.

The rebel leader shrugged. "They won't try anything. When Phobos fell and the battle for this city ended, they put down their weapons immediately. They're tired of fighting. Everyone's tired of fighting." he declared somberly. And now Lothar noticed something else. That the rebel leader's voice sounded as weak and tired as his own. "And even if they weren't, even if they wanted to try something, they wouldn't. Not as long as I hold you here in this cell. They're too loyal to you for that."

Lothar snorted. So that was it, wasn't it? Now he understood the true intentions behind the rebel leader's visit. It was all for the Guard. It was the Guard and its strength that he wanted. "And you need them to be loyal to you."

"No," the rebel leader said then, surprising Lothar and shattering all his suspicions. "What I need is for the Guard and its Captain to be loyal to Meridian, its laws, its people and its Queen. And to no one else. Do you understand?" the rebel leader asked of him in a serious tone. "Do you?"

Lothar stared at the rebel leader. Had he heard that right? Light of Meridian... He had. The rebel leader didn't intend for the Guard to become the Rebellion's puppet, but he also didn't want for him to remain an ally of the nobility. He intended for it not only to continue with its usual duties of serving the Queen and protecting the people, but also to act as a neutral, balancing power within the court and the Capital in the (very likely) case quarrels between rebels and nobles broke out.

"And what makes you think that I can be trusted?" Lothar inquired.

"Because I've talked with the men under your command," Caleb said, shifting his posture once again, this time into a more relaxed one. "And with some of the commoners that are now returning to the Capital." The rebel leader pointed a finger at him. "I know it was you who took them out from the Capital to protect them from Phobos. I know you care about the people of this kingdom."

Lothar held his head low, eyes nailed on the stump his left leg had been reduced to. "And how am I supposed to do everything you have said? Take a good look at me. I cannot lead anyone like… this."

"Blunk?" Caleb addressed the Passling.

In response, the Passling carefully took whatever was at his feet into his green, hairy hands. Next he entered into the cell by merely pushing the door open. They hadn't even locked it. Then the Passling approached the bed, left whatever he was carrying at Lothar's side and unwrapped it from the brown cloth so the Captain of the Guard could see what it was.

It was a prosthetic leg. Made of shinny, silvery metal. And as Lothar took it into his hands in order to inspect it, he discovered that it wasn't as heavy as one would expect. He also saw that it was more or less a perfect imitation of his old leg, at exception of its 'thigh', which was bigger and hollow so he could insert his real thigh into it. It also had a series of leather straps to tie it to his body. And the knee and the ankle were articulated to allow for the best mobility.

It's… perfect. Perfect; Lothar thought as he stared incredulously at it.

"The Mage told me it will never compare to the real thing," the rebel leader told him. "But it's better than any peg leg you may find."

"Very good iron!" the Passling said then, poking the prosthetic leg a couple of times with one of his green fingers. "Very well forged too!"

"I know…" the rebel leader continued, "that you have many reasons to distrust me. The Rebellion has done many horrible things. And we blamed Raythor for a crime he didn't commit just so we could get rid of him, and… that was wrong. And I…"

"No, no. No need to apologize. I don't think I have the right to judge you;" Lothar declared firmly, stopping him before he could finish the sentence. He felt strength coming back to his voice. "I have done… my share of horrible deeds." Carefully, he inserted his thigh into the prosthetic, then began tying the straps in order to adjust it properly. Soon the hairy hands of the Passling were over the prosthetic too, helping him and showing him how to properly do it. Minutes after, the deed was done. And Lothar had two legs again. "And… And if doing what you have asked of me is the way to atone for them, to atone for the wrongdoings of the side of this war I fought for, to work for a better tomorrow for this wounded world of ours, then… then so be it. Then so be it!"

Extending his hand towards the Passling so he could help him, and having some trouble keeping his balance once he did so, Lothar stood up. He then gave two clumsy steps towards the bars, leaning against them. At the other side, Caleb had risen from his chair too.

Lothar extended his right hand through the bars, and afterwards Caleb shook it.

---

Across the Veil

One day later. Heatherfield's graveyard

In Chinese culture, the color commonly worn at funerals is white. For even if white is the color of purity and innocence, it is also the color of death. The color of sadness and loss. It's a reminder of pure white snow. A reminder that, even though winter is still far away, it's cold. That was why today everyone in that graveyard was either completely or partially dressed in white. This was Uncle's funeral, after all. Or, at least, the funeral they were going to hold for him in Heatherfield before his body was, courtesy of Captain Black pulling some strings, sent to China as soon as possible, so it may be buried alongside his ancestors.

The Chan Clan and the Lins stood all in the front line of the crowd, each of them dressed completely in white. Behind them there were many people, some of them residents of Heatherfield, some others not. Some of them were there because they had known Uncle. Others were there simply out of respect. And at the end of said crowd, standing side by side; were Will, Matt, Irma, Cornelia, Caleb, Taranee, Alchemy and Elyon.

After the ceremony was over, the teenagers watched as a flood of people converged around the Chans and Lins.

They saw Tom and Ana Lair with their little boy Chris and Susan Vandom, talking with Chen Lin and Joan Lin. Next to them Harold and Elizabeth Hale, alongside Theresa, Peter and Lionel Cook were giving their condolences to Hay Lin and Yan Lin, the latter of whom was holding onto her granddaughter's arm. Meanwhile, a tall, burly, Chinese elderly man with very thick and white eyebrows talked with Tohru. A bald man that the girls knew to be Captain Augustus Black shook hands with Jackie and Viper, and then a bulky, Mexican man (who was also bald, but he sported a small chin-beard) in a well tailored suit, pulled Jackie into a tight hug. As for Jade, who stood alone, she also was receiving a hug, in her case from a Mexican boy with has brown hair and brown eyes. They recognized them as El Toro and Paco, from the times Jade had told them about the adventures her family had lived with them.

"Has anyone been able to talk with Jade or Hay Lin?" Alchemy inquired then, as people none of them knew about began paying their respect to the deceased Uncle and talking with the grieving families.

"Hay Lin answered one of my texts yesterday," Will answered. "But Jade… Anyone else's had better luck?" she asked of the rest of the group, who shook their heads.

"I can't believe her parents didn't come," Cornelia stated angrily.

"Well, they do live in Hong Kong;" Taranee pointed out.

"That isn't the point, Tara;" Irma said with an anger that matched Cornelia's.

"Look," Caleb said then, seeing how the crowd around the Chans and Lins had begun to disperse. "If you want to talk with them, now is your chance."

As they began walking forward, Cornelia looked over her shoulder and stared at Elyon. The straw-blond girl was dressed in Earth clothes again, and she hadn't given a single step. "Elyon?"

"I… I think I'm going to wait a little longer," she told her friend, who nodded. Cornelia knew Elyon would eventually talk with Jade, but with everything that had happened, she understood why the other girl wanted to wait a bit longer.

Once their little group had reached the front rows of the crowd, Yan Lin let go of Hay Lin's arm, and the Air Guardian ran towards her friends, practically throwing herself into Will's arms. The other girls joined in the collective hug afterwards.

"You're…" she said, closing her eyes and trying to not break into crying again. "You're great, all of you!" she said, half crying and half smiling.

Afterwards, Irma distanced herself from the rest and walked towards Jade, who was still standing where she had stood for the whole event. Staring at Uncle's coffin. "Jade?" she asked softly.

"Ashes in a box," Jade whispered so others wouldn't hear. Her brilliant and honey-brown, almost golden, eyes were nailed in the coffin. Irma knew the body had been cremated, both to ease its transport and to avoid people asking about why Uncle's corpse had a stab wound in the chest. "That's everything that's left of him. And now… what? A little shrine, some silly gravestone and another ceremony in China? He should have a statue, and a parade."

"Jade…" Irma begged of the girl, pulling her closer.

And while Jade accepted the Water Guardian's offer to get closer to her and lean into the other girl's body for comfort, her eyes remained fixed to the coffin.

Through the entire funeral, no tear had fallen from them.

---

That night. Chan Flat

In the living room of their flat, Tohru sat in their couch while toying with the Horse Talisman. Viper leaned against the wall in front of him, arms crossed. Uncomfortable. Jade had gone straight to her bedroom once they had come back, and hadn't come out since. Jackie was in the kitchen, on the phone. Screaming in Chinese. It didn't look like he was going to stop anytime soon. So Tohru kept toying with the Horse Talisman.

The Horse Talisman. The power to heal all wounds, as long as the person using it or the person it was being used on was alive. Had he not left it in the hands of the members of the Faith, it could have been used to save his Sensei's life. And he knew the Faithful had put it to good use, he knew they had used it to save many lives. He knew it was selfish to think that his Sensei's life was worth more than theirs. But he couldn't avoid thinking about the possibility that, had things gone a little bit differently, the Chinese elder would still be among them.

Tohru was no stranger to loss. He had lost his father when he had been but a boy, when the cancer had eaten him from the inside out and reduced him from a strong, lively man that young Tohru had thought invincible, to a bedridden man that couldn't even move due to the pain. But back then both Tohru and his mother had had time. Time to understand what was happening, what would inevitably happen. Time to be with his father, to exchange words, to laugh one last time, to say goodbye. A time none of them, nor he, nor Jackie nor Jade; had had with Uncle.

What was Tohru supposed to do now? How was he supposed to proceed? His training was incomplete. Oh, his Sensei had taught him many things, but he felt unable to think of himself as a fully-fledged Chi Wizard yet. And even if Phobos was dead, the mountain of man knew that Tarakudo was still out there, as were the last two Oni Masks. And albeit weakened, the Dark Hand was still active. And Daolong Wong too, probably. And that was without having in mind whatever new monster or problem would rear its ugly head in the future. And Uncle could have been, would have been of so much help in those situations. Could he do it? Could Tohru step on his Sensei's shoes, take up his mantle? He would try, that was for sure. He jut hoped he was up to the task.

It was then when the screams in the kitchen ceased, and Jackie entered the living room, fists clenched and face red with anger.

"How did it go?" Viper asked of the man.

"Jade… stays," Jackie said, voice slightly trembling due to how angry he was. It was such a strange thing to behold, in Tohru's opinion. Jackie Chan's fury. The anger boiling underneath, ready to explode at any moment. "I won't take from her what she has here."

"Your cousin didn't try to…?" Viper began.

"Protest? Oh, Shen did. Of course he did;" Jackie told her. "But if they wanted to see their daughter so badly, they could have come. I gave them enough time. Not just now, anytime during the past year. But he couldn't cancel some stupid business meeting. Business always comes first with those two. And he had the nerve to tell me, tell me;" Jackie repeated, hitting his chest with his fist; "that we shouldn't have held any ceremony here and should have traveled to China as soon as possible." The archeologist threw his hands to the skies. "As if the Lins weren't family! As if they didn't deserve the chance to say goodbye to Uncle too! I swear…!"

"Jackie," Tohru called for his friend. "Calm. Down."

Jackie breathed deep and slowly thrice. "I'm… sorry," the man apologized. He then headed towards the flat's entry. "I'm going to the rooftop, I… just need some air."

The archeologist left, and seconds later, Viper followed on his steps to check on him. And so Tohru was left alone. He took another look at the octagonal rock in his huge palm.

A pity the Horse Talisman couldn't heal spirits in the same vein it healed bodies.

---

The Shadow Realm

The Prince of Meridian had perished. So had the old Chi Wizard of Earth.

On Meridian, a Rebellion ascended to power. A rebel boy found hope, another sought answers. A soldier choose to compromise. A Princess was in her way to become Queen. And a warlock and a sorceress schemed behind their backs, each unaware of the other's plots.

On Earth, the old Chi Wizard's friends and kin mourned his death. The King of Kings and his allies tinkered and toiled with weapons and magics no world had ever seen. An old knight and a girl with pink hair prepared themselves to make their move. A Captain was beginning to unveil the secrets around him. Daolong Wong, formerly a Dark Chi Wizard and a mere long-lived human, now gave his final steps in his transformation into a Chi Vampire, a Jiangshi. And in the motherland, in Japan, Nimue of Britannia bid her time until the Veil was lifted.

And in the Shadow Realm, Tarakudo, King of the Oni, watched all of them from the shadows and waited for the moment in which all the lies and deceptions would crumble, and he and his Generals would be truly free to wage war once more. Below him, the Cavalcade of Horrors laughed and sang in joy. And the heartbeat of their Master beat louder than ever before.

Tarakudo had taken his full-bodied form, but he never had any trouble doing so and maintaining it for extended periods of time in this realm. Here he was calm and floated without direction, lost in his thoughts. The death of the Chi Wizard had surprised him. Not so much the one of the Prince, that was bound to happen sooner or later. And it wasn't as if he felt sadness for the death of the old man, but… Ah, a man that had been able to fight and win against his loyal and powerful Ikazuki, no matter how many handicaps the Oni General had placed onto himself, would have been a man worth fighting against. Now his friend would never have the chance for a rematch, and the King would never be able to face the old man in battle, fist against fist. Oh well, it wasn't as if there weren't any other…

REJOICE TARAKUDO, TWO-TIMES-MET, TWO-TIMES-AIDED

The sudden sound of the voice of the Cavalcade's Master took the King of the Oni out of his thoughts and shook him to his core. What? Why? Why had It spoken to him directly, without any need from him to ask for an audience? And why did It sound like… No, it was impossible, but… It sounded happy.

I WILL ADMIT, I DO FEEL JOY

What? What? Had It read his thoughts? His emotions?

YES. AND IT SHOULD NOT SURPRISE YOU. NOT BY THIS POINT. THIS IS MY REALM. MORE THAN MY REALM. IT IS PART OF ME AND ME PART OF IT. NOTHING CAN BE KEPT A SECRET FROM ME IN HERE. BUT WORRY NOT. SHARE IN MY AND MY CHILDREN'S JOY, TARAKUDO, TWO-TIMES-MET, TWO-TIMES-AIDED

"Why?" Tarakudo asked, dubious of actually needing to voice his question. Joy? This… thing could and was feeling joy? How? And it was asking Tarakudo to join on it? Why? Why?! WHY?!

BECAUSE MY HOUR IS NIGH. THESE ARE BUT THE FIRST STEPS TOWARDS THE MOMENT IN WHICH I SHALL ACHIEVE MY DESIRE. BUT ONCE MORE, WORRY NOT. FOR THE FULFILLMENT OF MY WISHES MEANS THE FULFILLMENT OF YOURS. MY VICTORY SHALL BE YOUR VICTORY

The Cavalcade laughed loudly once more. "King! King! You will have your War! But we will also have our Fun!"

WE ONLY NEED ANOTHER LITTLE PUSH

---

Heatherfield's Streets

Three days had passed since the funeral. Uncle's ashes had been sent to China in a plane. And now, in the middle of the day, Jackie and Jade Chan were returning to their flat after buying some groceries. Nothing of importance. Some ice-cream, some carrots, cheese, a bottle of syrup. It was clear this wasn't something that needed to be done. They didn't need these things, and if they did, they could have bought them at any other moment. This was something Jackie had planned in order to have a moment alone with Jade. They hadn't spoke a lot as of late. In fact, jade hadn't spoken a lot with anyone as of late.

"I know… things are looking hard right now," Jackie told his niece. "I know how much this hurts. And I know nothing will be the same ever again. But I want you to know you can talk with me, you can… Jade? Jade, are you listening to me?"

Jade had stopped walking. She was staring onward, eyes wide-open, and Jackie wasn't sure if she had heard him, if she was thinking about what to say, or if she was lost within her own mind. "Did you… hear that?" she asked then.

"Heard what?" a confused Jackie asked. "Jade, I'm trying…"

"Over there," she said, ignoring him. Then she turned to her right and ran into a nearby alley.

"Jade!" Jackie shouted, running after her. Damn it, where had that come from?! "What are you doing?! Stop! Why are you…?! Oh."

Jackie had entered the alley. A dead end, this one. It was there where he found Jade, once again standing still and staring onward. This time around, however, she was staring at something. Something big, round and made of whitish-blue energy.

"A Portal," Jackie said as he stood at Jade's side. He wasn't even that surprised to find one here. Yan Lin had told them Portals could form naturally when there was some energy fluctuation in the Veil. "I will call Will so she comes and closes it." he said taking out his phone from his pocket. "The last thing we need now is some meridianite crossing into… Auchk!"

The punch to his stomach caught him off-guard. But of course it did. How was he supposed to be expecting it? It had been a strong punch. Strong enough to eave him breathless for a few seconds and force him to drop to his knees. He looked up.

And saw Jade standing mere centimeters away from the Portal.

"Jade?" he asked weakly.

She looked at him with a confused and doubtful expression. She looked at the Portal again. Then back at him. Her lips turned into the saddest smile Jackie Chan had ever seen.

"Sorry, Jackie;" she said.

"Jade, NO!" Jackie screamed, jumping to his feet. But it was too late.

She had already jumped into the Portal.

Jackie ran. But when he was inches away from the Portal, it closed and disappeared. He fell to the ground, stood up again, and frantically looked around himself. "Jade!" he screamed in anguish. "Jade!" he repeated. But it was useless. She couldn't hear him. She wasn't in this world anymore.

Jade was gone.

---

The world is a complicated place. You go about your life, make choices, and you think… you believe so hard that you are doing the right thing. And maybe it is. But then, it has consequences you never imagined. Uncle Chan

---

Guardians, Wizards, and Kung-Fu Fighters

Season One

The End… for now

---

A/N: Appropriately, this is the longest chapter of this story. Yes, this is how it ends. A bittersweet tone that perhaps leans more to the bitter part. Alas, I think it appropriate for this kind of tale. It has taken a great deal of effort to put it together, and I confess I have written, deleted and rewritten good chunks of it. Things like the big talk in the Infinite City and Lothar and Caleb's conversation took me weeks to write down. Changed plans for it at several points. There were supposed to be other scenes, and even Elyon's coronation. Phobos was meant to survive this, but I decided it was better suited for him to die here, in the manner he did, than how I had planned for him to die later on.

And speaking of Phobos, I found writing him very enjoyable. Not in a "what a great chump this guy is" way, but in a fascinating way. All facets of evil can be very fascinating, and writing Phobos' fall into insanity was very interesting. And in order to answer a question that a lot of people asked me in light of last chapter's opening scene… Could, had things gone differently, Phobos have been good? And my answer is no. Could he, however, have been better? Yes, absolutely.

Uncle's death here is the greater game-changer, however. Writing grief is tiresome, to say the least, but I think I delivered. Especially concerning Jade, her perceived guilt at being responsible for Uncle's demise, her anger at Phobos, her frustration at being unable to be his killer. All of it leading out to that final moment. Her jumping through that Portal into Meridian was something I planned since the story began. It all started with Jade facing a desperate situation and pulling through. Now it ends with something similar, with far less stakes, but much more personal. This time around, despair gets the better of her. And you will have to wait to see how things turn out.

Ah… I don't plan going straight into Season 2 after this. I want to write something more for A Bizarre World of Ice and Fire, which has been left pretty abandoned there; I want to focus in my actual personal writing project when I have free time from my job, and maybe I will publish a MOTU story? Maybe? And even after that, I want to publish this story's special chapters as its own separate thing. Something along the lines of "Tales of… something-something". Warning, Jade is supposed to have one of those chapters for herself, dealing with the fallout of this one, so I'd be keeping my eyes open for it if I were you. Maybe Season 2 will get published as its own thing, but I haven't decided.

All in all, this was FUN. This was insightful, and I'm really glad so many people showed so much interest in it.

I hope you enjoyed this last chapter for this Season. Leave a review if you feel like it, and goodbye.