Author's Note: Plot necessity aside, I feel kind of bad that Laura's been completely absent from the story for the past fifteen chapters, so to make up for it please enjoy the following scene. Rest assured our favorite lesbian jeweler will resume being a central part of this story for the remaining duration.

Chapter Forty-One

Precursors

Silence fell as Aurelia concluded her tale, blanketing the room in a layer of quiet filled to the brim with untapped emotion.

Laura stared at her captor across the expanse of the table; her own expression belaying nothing to the albino, should the woman chance to look her in the eyes. The room they currently occupied was no less lavish than the rest of the fortress the jeweler had seen thus far. Aurelia hadn't deigned to give her an official tour, but they'd walked down enough endless halls during the past couple days for Laura to get a sense of the true expanse of what once was Ecclesia's refuge and Shanoa's childhood home. They were sitting in a common area, as the albino had so described, a place where acolytes could gather for relaxation and recreation in their off hours. Large windows on the far wall overlooked a central courtyard and allowed in plenty of sunlight. A colorful, ornate rug covered the floor, and the walls were decorated with gold-leaf patterned wallpaper. A massive stone fireplace stood in the rear of the room, and Aurelia had lit a fire in its hearth, the blaze tinting the interior in a bright orange glow and filling the sudden void in conversation with the arrhythmic crackle and pop of burning wood.

Couches, reclining chairs, and tables of different heights were strewn about the space, thrown asunder by a culprit Laura had come to assume was Aurelia herself. Only two plush chairs and a rectangular table remained upright, saved from the fray by the albino when they first arrived. They sat facing each other with a chess board set up between them. They hadn't spoken much during the first day of her imprisonment. After the incident in the dining hall – where Laura awoke and the albino severed a finger – Aurelia had locked her captive in an abandoned bedroom. The window faced the interior courtyard, and its rusted hinges wouldn't budge more than a few centimeters when Laura tried to pry it open. Shattering the panes would draw the albino's attention and ire, Laura was sure, so she submitted herself to the reality of her predicament and decided to wait it out.

Time passed without further incident. When she slept the jeweler's dreams were filled with longing images of Shanoa's face and the comfort of her arms. Aurelia shook her awake a little past dawn on the second day, banishing the welcome visions of her lover, and after a quick meal consisting of non-perishable food scoured from the kitchens, Aurelia brought her to the common room. Chess was the albino's game of choice, and while Laura hadn't played in years it was one of the few recreational pastimes her father enjoyed. The use of battle strategies was something he highly approved of and encouraged his daughter to study. Aurelia wasn't quite as good as Abel, Laura discovered as they progressed. Her arrogance bled into her playing style, and while Laura lost the first game she was soon able to hold her own.

Aurelia began her story as the second game concluded. A tale of the albino's life beginning from the night before she watched Shanoa ascend to the title of Ecclesia's Blade, spanning their arguable friendship, concluding with Aurelia's fall from grace and subsequent revival. Laura listened without comment, sensing her captor's emotional fragility as she recalled the events. While she wasn't sympathetic to Aurelia's struggle, the jeweler recognized the need to keep the woman on an even keel. Even though the albino had made it clear she didn't intend on killing Laura before Shanoa arrived, she made no promise of safety, either. If Laura incited her anger there was the distinct possibility Aurelia would lash out, and after listening to her sordid tale, her endless waxing on the Chaos inherent in humanity, and how guiltlessly she'd killed innocent targets, well, Laura would be remiss to put any level of trust in Ecclesia's Shadow.

By now, at the end of her story, the Sun was setting low on the horizon. Laura had lost count of how many games they'd played, not bothering to keep track of wins and losses. Aurelia's fingers gripped a black Knight between them, moving it in a slow procession across the board, as she took a shuddering breath. Laura waited, silent and pensive, for the albino to say her concluding thoughts. At last, the Knight reached its destination, a white square in the center of the board, poised to capture Laura's Rook. She'd been setting up a frontal assault for several turns now, on the cusp of obtaining several of Laura's fighters, Aurelia's strategy as aggressive as the emotions which seeped from her lips as she recounted the conclusion of her imprisonment.

The silence continued to stretch between them. At last, Aurelia looked up, her purple eyes meeting Laura's steady gaze. "As for the rest, well, you know what's happened since. My life has been as wrapped up in following Ecclesia's former Blade as yours is. Both of our fates tied to that woman's wiles. But my mission has been laid out before me, the most important undertaking of my life thus far. Shanoa must die for the sake of humanity's future salvation. She cannot be allowed to impart her Dracula-slaying power to another." Aurelia settled back in her chair, eyes still fixed on Laura's, as she ran the fingers of her right hand over her lips in a pensive manner. "But, despite everything I've said, I do not expect you to share my convictions. Your personal feelings for Shanoa aside, you are still a Belmont, and cursed with the bloodline's short-sightedness."

"Yeah, I'm a true arbiter of Chaos," Laura said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. The jeweler picked up her targeted Rook and moved it across the board, out of harm's way, capturing a Pawn in the process. "Still, you preach about saving humanity from itself – how that's your main objective – but I think we both know you're being driven by a personal desire for vengeance. You want to kill Shanoa for supposedly destroying Ecclesia."

Aurelia was silent for a few moments as her gaze shifted, turning to the chessboard. "I won't lie. I will find… vindication in the sight of Shanoa's lifeless body lying at my feet. I will take selfish pleasure in revealing the true extent of her corruption to her. After what she did, how she betrayed everything we fought for, I would be remiss to say I'd feel nothing in witnessing Shanoa receive her deserved comeuppance." The albino moved another Pawn forward, threatening the Rook again. "However, I did not undertake this mission of my own volition. I was chosen; ordained by the family who saw it fit to accept me back into their arms. My Lord desires her death, and He shall have it."

Laura studied her captor, taking in the cut of her face, the assured righteousness emanating from her expression. Aurelia was a woman committed to the path she walked, and nothing could convince her otherwise. But the albino was limited in her sight; blinded by a lifetime spent under the heel of manipulative men and the grief of losing everything she'd held dear. Laura knew beneath Aurelia's tightly controlled exterior there lay a fragile, broken woman whose heart had been shattered by misguided love. Were she anyone else the jeweler might have felt some sympathy, but Aurelia had committed too many atrocities to be worthy of such kinder emotions. This truth, more than anything, was what drove Laura to speak her mind. A dangerous tactic, foolish in many ways, but the jeweler had never been one to hold her tongue in the face of adversity, even when silence would be the advised route.

"How curious you were cast out by Dracula's forces when it suited them and returned to the fold when there were no other options left," Laura said, not bothering to keep the bite out of her tone. "As Shanoa was slaying the Dark Lord's generals and they realized no one inside Castlevania had the power to stop her. Even though Barlowe stripped you of everything, you naively never gave up your faith in Ecclesia's mission. Dracula knew this, saw he had yet another weapon at his disposal. A woman who would follow without question the moment he sent out the call to arms. But the Dark Lord didn't see her as worthy of fighting by his side when he needed her the most."

The albino was staring directly at her now, their eyes boring into each other. Laura leaned forward a bit, pressing on undeterred.

"The Dark brand was formed as an act of desperation, not love. You're being used, Aurelia," the jeweler said in an even voice. "A tool of convenience and nothing more."

Tension snapped in the air between them. Laura knew she'd struck a nerve, evidenced by the stuttered rise and fall of Aurelia's chest as she took deep, near-gasping breaths. The albino's hands clenched into fists, and for a moment Laura thought she was going to physically retaliate, before Aurelia let out a long, forceful sigh, her eyes closing on the exhale.

"Your words are those of the ignorant; of one who knows nothing of the Dark Lord and his machinations," the albino said in a weary voice. "I failed Him once, and I must atone for that great sin. Killing Shanoa will redeem me in His eyes, however, and make me worthy of ascension into His arms. And while Ecclesia has crumbled, and Dracula banished from the mortal world, there remains one unshakable truth." She opened her eyes, meeting Laura's steely gaze with her own. "I live to serve, and it will be enough."

Laura moved her white Bishop across the board, leaving the threatened Rook in place. "Your sense of servitude is an unnecessary chain. So long as it persists you deprive yourself of higher thought. Of living your life outside the bonds of what Ecclesia would ask of you. I'm eternally proud of Shanoa for finding the strength to break free. I knew it was a herculean task, but after hearing how deep the corruption within the Order went." The jeweler paused, a challenging glint in her green eyes as she stared into Aurelia. "Unlike you, she deserves endless praise."

"Shanoa is not so deserving," Aurelia said in a biting tone. "The blood of all those supposed innocents lies on her hands as well as mine. We killed together, her and I. If you would condemn me for murder, then your precious Blade is just as much to blame."

"The difference is Shanoa was manipulated. You and the Elders made her believe they were guilty of horrible crimes and used her good heart to commit atrocities. But the moment Shanoa learned the truth she saved herself from the lies. She broke free." A pleased, satisfied smile formed on Laura's lips. "If you were trying to disparage her name with this sordid tale it had the opposite effect. It only made me love her even more."

"Then you are a lovesick fool. Blinded by your own misguided emotions." Aurelia leaned forward in her chair; eyes narrowed as a storm raged behind her expression. "Shanoa is doom driven. Every person she loves, everything she touches, she destroys. Our home, our family, her own brother, they're all gone now, killed by Shanoa's violent hands. One day you too will become victim to her hubris. No amount of love you give will stay her blades; I know that truth firsthand."

"Shanoa is not some mindless, savage beast," Laura said, not withering under the power of Aurelia's gaze. Instead, she met the albino head on, chin held high and spine straight. "She only destroys what deserves to be decimated. Even her brother, when he died, was not her brother any longer, but a monster transmogrified by Dominus. To the innocent, to the lost souls, Shanoa is a godsend. I've seen her save wayward hearts with the power of her convictions. Watched her breathe life into a village weighed down by ghosts of the past. She helped free me from my own demons, and while my time with her may yet be short, I trust that woman with my life." The jeweler allowed her expression to soften a bit. Because there was another truth they had yet to breach. Something which tied the three of them together outside of the roles assigned to them by blood and cults. The only part of Aurelia's history Laura could empathize with. "Shanoa did the same for you, too, before she knew the truth. Walked a lonely road with you; made you feel seen; made you feel like you mattered. And even though I know you'd deny it outright, you fiercely miss what you had with her."

Another silence settled over the room; no less violent than the other pauses which came before it. Aurelia fumed at her captive from across the table, a swarm of emotion clearly visible behind her purple eyes. Laura catalogued what she saw in those eyes. Anger and fury, yes, but also a bone-deep hurt which could never be healed. Stemming from not only a perceived betrayal, but intense jealous. And Laura knew, in her heart, Aurelia's despise for the jeweler was born out of something far more personal than the Belmont blood she carried.

"Why tell me about your history with Shanoa, anyway?" Laura asked after a time. "You weren't looking for a shoulder to cry on. I'm sure you have an ulterior motive."

Aurelia hummed as she moved her Pawn and captured the jeweler's Rook. "Because this battle will be the culmination of our time together. The fates of Ecclesia's Blade and her Shadow finally coming to its inevitable end. And while I have every intention of winning, if – somehow – Shanoa manages to overcome, then." The albino hesitated for a fraction of a second. Quick enough Laura would have missed it if she wasn't paying close attention. "I want her to know what she did to me."

A world of meaning was held within Aurelia's admittance. Years of a sordid history, of young women bound by a doomed fate, who sought to love each other despite this ugly eventuality. Laura saw the longing in Aurelia's purple eyes. Saw the hurt she carried with her; the blade of regret and pain forever buried deep within her chest. It was enough for the jeweler to want to pity her, but she knew better. Aurelia had every opportunity to walk away, to follow in Shanoa's stead and leave Ecclesia and its brutal ways behind, yet the albino endeavored to continue the cult's legacy. And, in doing so, Aurelia gave up any shred of sympathy she may have otherwise deserved.

Laura sighed as her eyes returned to the chessboard. She picked up her hitherto ignored Queen and moved it diagonally across the battlefield. It came to rest before Aurelia's King. On a coveted square opened up by the moving of the albino's Pawn and protected by Laura's white Bishop.

The jeweler met Aurelia's gaze with a pleased grin on her face. The promise made between them in the utterance of a single word.

"Checkmate."

IXI

Something hit her face – again – but Shanoa was slow to wake despite the disturbance. Sleep was somewhat easier to come in the wake of her commune with Daniela. The weight of her revived memories had all but alleviated, assurance instilled by the old woman's insistence that she didn't need to be shackled to them any longer. Yet the threat to Laura remained. A kidnapping driven by the lingering ghosts of Ecclesia's failed machinations. The urge to storm the fortress burned hot within Shanoa's heart now that she knew the truth. She yearned to face Aurelia, end her torment, and set Laura free, though she would not dare risk the jeweler's safety by arriving before the given deadline. On the final night Shanoa fell, exhausted from the trials of remembrance and recovery, into Laura's bed, yet though sleep claimed her quickly the ever-present reality of the jeweler's fate being held in Aurelia's hands drove Shanoa from slumber throughout the night. Eventually, she succumbed to the need for Abram's medicine, and took the mixture sometime in the hour past midnight. Even in this half-awake state she noted the unwelcome expanse of the bed left behind by a missing occupant. Her arms were empty, and Shanoa pined for the feeling of a warm, familiar body next to hers–

The thing pawed at her eyes this time. Shanoa groaned but managed to force them open. She noted the Sun had risen, as evidenced by the room's natural illumination, though her vision was filled with the sight of some big, fluffy, white thing hovering mere centimeters from her face. Its yellow eyes were filled with a mixture of insistence and general annoyance. Shanoa started a bit in surprise, reeling backwards and away from the beast, before her groggy mind was able to determine what this creature was.

"Tofu?" she asked in a dazed voice.

The cat mewed and bat at her cheek for good measure. She took the hint and sat upright as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Tofu continued to make noises of distress as she stirred; the cat's tail whipped from side to side in tight circles as he tried to communicate a message to her. Shanoa couldn't decipher it in her current form, but she had an advantage most humans were lacking. The warrior pushed aside the blankets as she climbed out of bed. She'd changed into one of Laura's spare nightgowns, and the unrestrictive clothing would be beneficial for the task at hand. Tofu continued to watch her with obvious eagerness as she stretched her arms in anticipation.

"Give me a moment," she said as Arma Felix flowed through the tattoo on her back.

Shanoa only used the Arma Glyphs on rare occasions, and the infrequency of their summoning made it easy for her to forget the grueling process of physical transformation. The procedure was an unpleasant one, and – once invoked – existed entirely outside of her control as this savage brand of magic turned her flesh into clay. As Arma Felix took hold, her body grew thin and her limbs stretched to accommodate a form less suited to bipedal movement. Her teeth elongated into sharpened fangs while her nails became claws in turn. A tail sprouted from the base of her spine; the new appendage coated with short crimson hair in addition to the patches which sprung up across her skin. Her senses underwent the most drastic change, however. The new feline shape of her ears allowed for a melody of sounds once unknown to her human form to come into sharp focus. Her new nose picked up even the most faint, ill-refined scents. Her face – she noted – had also morphed, though she couldn't picture its current shape. Shanoa never chanced to look in a mirror while transformed. A part of her that loathed to discover what she'd find in her own reflection.

The nightgown hung loose over her body, too big for her new limber frame. Tofu didn't appear surprised by the dramatic shift in her physical form. He must have sensed the presence of the Glyph long before she invoked it. Now, however, they could talk. Not in the human way – by use of spoken words – but through the subtle language of inflection inherent to animals. Each flick of the tail, tilt of the head, or carefully interspersed noise carried immense meaning to cats of all sizes. Shanoa could only interpret their language in this form, though. It was funny, in a way. Animals could understand human words with little grief, but mankind had lost the ability to comprehend its supposedly lesser brethren apart from the most blatant signals.

'Finally,' Tofu said in the language of cats. 'I've been trying to wake you for the past ten minutes.'

'My apologies.' Shanoa looked towards the windows, searching for his point of entry, and found they were both shut tight. 'How did you get in here?'

Tofu executed a downward stretch, his mouth opened wide in a massive yawn. 'I have my ways. This is my home, after all.'

The warrior waited, but he offered no further explanation. The longer she stared the more he seemed to bask in the mystery of his entrance. Typical cat.

'Father Nikolai let you outside?' she asked to tease him.

Tofu coughed at her insistence. 'The old cat is easy to persuade, but enough about that.' The eager sheen glistened in his yellow eyes. 'I know my kin is in danger.'

Shanoa's tail drooped. 'Yes…'

'You would save her?'

'I will move mountains to see her safe.'

'Then there is something you must take with you.'

Tofu hopped off the bed and ran downstairs. Shanoa followed close behind on all fours. Despite her general unease with the process of physical transformation, there was a certain grace intrinsic to this feline shape. A strengthened connection to the Earth which echoed with each stride taken by her padded hands and feet. The play of gravity became clear to her, now. She could feel the minute shifts influenced by whatever cosmic forces governed its laws.

The white cat came to a stop before the door separating the storefront from the rest of the house. He either had no tricks to get inside without aid or was waiting for her to catch up. Shanoa suspected the latter. She rose up on her hind legs as she approached and opened the door for him. Tofu darted around the corner and over to Laura's workbench, but Shanoa hesitated just inside the threshold. There was the chance someone might pass by one of the front windows and mistake her warped body for a monster. Yet everyone in this village knew she was capable of many magical abilities they may not have witnessed prior. Even if a stranger happened upon her, any initial panic would be quelled without delay.

She crouched on all fours and stalked into the storefront. Tofu watched her with an impatient glare as she made her dramatic advance. Laura's workbench had cabinets built into the legs and the cat pawed at one of the larger doors. Shanoa didn't need further instruction and opened it at his insistence. A safe was tucked inside, though it appeared to be locked. She looked at Tofu for further guidance.

'Eleven, thirty, two,' he said.

The warrior entered the combination and the hinges gave way with a soft creak. The inside of the safe was filled with stacks of cloth bags in various sizes. Shanoa inhaled and caught her own scent intermixed with a clean, natural aroma; that of earth and stone. There were hints of magic in the air, too, as evidenced by the way her nose tingled at the aura of untapped energy. A strong pull bade her to inspect the bottom of the safe. There, tucked away in a corner, she found a polished box of lacquered pine. The container was of decent size and the air around it hummed with the vibrations of a strong enchantment. Shanoa cradled the box in her hands, but her animalistic instincts made her hesitant to look inside. Even a cat knew when it was appropriate to be cautious. She turned to Tofu for an explanation.

'My kin wanted you to have it,' he said. 'She finished it some time ago but was hesitant to present it to you. She kept muttering something about attraction and implications, though I never saw the problem.'

'Thank you.'

'You are a formidable cat.' Tofu's eyes shone with approval. 'I expect nothing less than success.'

Shanoa nodded. 'And you shall have it.'

'Then it's time for you to put it on.'

The warrior dismissed Arma Felix. Her body was quick to reassume its natural form. A feeling of relief washed over Shanoa as the feline shape left her. Every transformation carried with it the subconscious fear she wouldn't be able to change back into a human. Yet another reason why she was always hesitant to invoke the Arma Glyphs. Human once more, any trepidation she'd felt towards the box in her hands vanished along with her animal instincts. Shanoa opened the lid and her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at what lay inside.

The box contained a diadem fashioned from a band of solid silver threaded with streaks of brilliant gold. The back of the circlet was rather plain, but as it wrapped around to the front strips of gleaming metal sprouted from the band, molded into the shape of tree branches. A collection of gemstones studded the tips of the branches; an array of bright colors cast in the form of onyx, sapphire, rubies, diamonds, and more. At the center of the collection – wreathed by a dense circle of branches – lay the largest and most peculiar stone of all. It bequeathed no singular color. Each viewing angle produced a different hue and the smallest shift in light altered the impression she received. Shanoa remembered this stone with a burning clarity. No one could forget a gem as unique as the precious Alexandrite.

Nor could she forget where she'd found it. In the aftermath of a battle which changed her life forever.

Even in the midst of the task, Shanoa couldn't come up with an acceptable reason as to why she was searching Barlowe's corpse. The effort was pointless, in the end. Even if she did come across something useful the discovery wouldn't assuage the truth.

She'd failed.

Lingering here, in Ecclesia, only made it worse. The pungent aroma of failure saturated the air and fed something deep inside her the warrior could only vaguely identify as despair. It was a horrible feeling, and she wished she could forget again. Fall back into the purely emotionless void. Then, maybe, reality wouldn't hurt.

Barlowe lay sprawled on the ground at the foot of the destroyed statue. The obsidian stone was splintered and the runes once etched onto its face were gone; erased along with the release of the effigy's accursed prisoner. Her former Master's body was frozen in his moment of triumph; his face contorted by the final throes of madness and spiteful rage. Whatever gentleness once existed in his aged features had vanished. He was ugly, in a way that evoked a bitter, raw disgust from his protégé. He was uglier than all the monsters she'd slain before him.

And Shanoa took some comfort in the knowledge she'd always hate him.

Her search came up empty. There was nothing here; no hidden key or note tucked amidst the vast waves of his robes. Not even a single potion. Shanoa removed Barlowe's thick gloves, but all she found were his trinkets, rings and the like. What good would un-enchanted jewelry do her now?

She hesitated, however, as one ring caught her eye. The metallic band bore a massive, uncut gem, and despite its gaudy size the warrior was drawn to it. She pulled the ring off Barlowe's finger and held it up to the light. It was an enchanting sight, even to her vacant soul, as each small shift in angle birthed a new hue within the stone.

Her memory stirred as she gazed upon it. Laura had spoken of such a gem during one of her latest excursions to Wygol. Shanoa could never offer much in the way of stimulating conversation, and most of the time she simply acted as an attentive listener as the jeweler told her stories of the Earth's hidden treasures. Laura had called it Alexandrite: a stone so rare it was rumored to be mere myth, yet here it was in her hands.

Shanoa had no use for it. That was the basis of their agreement. Yet a deeper realization tugged at her as she thought of the jeweler. It was more than the obligation to uphold an arrangement. It was desire. She… wanted to give this gemstone to Laura. A parting gift before the warrior sought the embrace of whatever Hell Barlowe had ushered into the world.

It was strange. Albus had meant something to her, evidenced by the snippets of his memories that still burned inside her mind, but he was a brother, serving a distinct role. And while she couldn't recall any details of her life before the doomed Dominus ritual nearly nine months ago, Shanoa knew – in her heart – Laura was the closest thing she'd ever had to a true, honest friend.

That deserved at least some recognition.

Shanoa had placed the Alexandrite ring inside a leather bag and returned to Wygol in the dead of night, while the villagers were asleep. The warrior tied the rope tassels of the bag to the handle of Laura's front door and left it for the jeweler to discover the following morning. She'd forgotten about the diversion in the following chaos of Castlevania's halls, but even so, Shanoa never imagined something like this would come out of the gesture.

Laura had to have slaved at the diadem for endless hours; a toil to distract her from the worry invited by Shanoa's sudden vacancy and the appearance of a foreboding castle on the horizon. What sort of questions had crossed the jeweler's mind during the crafting of this piece? Ponderings on where the warrior had gone and if she'd ever return. Laura had waited two long weeks for the answers.

'How it must have hurt…'

No doubt it hurt like waiting for Aurelia's deadline did. A stretch of arduous, idle time, knowing nothing of the outcome, leaving her begging for relief. But Shanoa would not have to wait much longer.

The warrior's expression settled into solemn determination as she stood upright and placed the diadem on her head. The moment it settled around her scalp Shanoa felt an immediate surge of power. Her eyes opened wide as the remnants of sleep were banished, replaced by an all-consuming alertness. Her hair prickled at the energy electrifying her skin. A vigor unlike anything she'd felt before; the individual magical properties of the diadem's stones coalesced into a unique enchantment which amplified every aspect of the warrior's might.

Shanoa's worries melted away as the Earth lay prostrate at her feet. All that existed in this moment was her, battle ready, a goddess amongst men.

'No.' She was quick to retract the thought. Shanoa was far from a god, but she at last admitted the fact she was more than a mere human. She was a creature blessed, the extension of some force of righteousness in the universe.

And – for a fleeting second – Shanoa entertained a belief in angels.

IXI

The hours passed slowly, but Shanoa managed to endure by filling her time with mindless things. She stretched her muscles and practiced her battle form with various Glyphs, though she took care to avoid genuine exertion. She needed to save her energy for the fight ahead. No one came to see her. By now, word would have spread that the warrior had returned, but she'd already conversed with those villagers she truly needed the council of. Despite her fondness towards the other residents, they were bound to ask questions, and this was not the time for thorough explanations. Such discussions would only distract her from the task at hand.

The living room offered the most space to move about in, so she'd taken up residence there. Tofu watched her from his perch on one of the arms of Laura's couch as Shanoa invoked Glyphs in quick succession. The flames of Ignis burned in her open palm followed soon by a swirling orb of Darkness birthed from Globus. Aurelia knew them both, and Rapidus Fio besides. An odd assortment of Glyphs as they all harkened to different magical affinities, but Shanoa knew shadows would be her main adversary. She hoped she managed to retain her ability to sense Aurelia's presence within those patches of darkness, though she couldn't count on it. Still, the fact Aurelia knew more Glyphs than she'd revealed during their time together was disconcerting. It was one of the subjects they'd never broached during travels, and it gave Shanoa cause to wonder how many more incantations the albino was master over. Two Glyphs should have been the maximum her mind could endure, but Aurelia was a dark horse still, capable of atrocities Shanoa hadn't considered possible during their friendship. This was no doubt another secret the albino had hidden; kept close to her chest like her true ambitions. The warrior would have to deal with any additional Glyphs as they were revealed, though she took solace in the fact that – after traversing Castlevania – she was accustomed to unpredictable battle conditions. She could adapt when caught unaware in the midst of a fray.

Shanoa's head turned at the sound of a soft commotion outside, followed by a knocking on the back door. There was another hour yet before the deadline Eugen had set, and she'd never known the blacksmith to leave his shop on a call, but perhaps the urgency of Laura's imprisonment had inspired him to action. Another knock on the door broke her out of her musings and Shanoa rushed across the room to open the door. Sure enough, Eugen was on the other side, the usual stoic expression on his face and a large object wrapped in brown paper held in his hands.

"You're early," Shanoa said with slight surprise.

"I always overestimate the deadline. That way I never struggle to meet it." A few seconds of silence passed before Eugen regarded her with a curious look. "May I come in?"

"Oh, of course."

The warrior stepped aside and held the door open wider for him. Eugen crossed the threshold before he came to a sudden stop. A sullen expression settled over his face as he looked around the jeweler's home.

"Is something wrong?" Shanoa asked.

"No, this is exactly what I expected her house to look like," he said in a troubled tone.

"You told me you helped build this village."

A grunt left Eugen's throat. "I built it, yes, I didn't decorate it."

"I hate to be a bother, but I'm LOSING my grip," a new voice said from outside.

Shanoa's face lit up in recognition. "Abram?"

Eugen cast a glance over his shoulder. "Yes, I needed some extra hands."

The blacksmith entered the room proper, allowing the man behind him access inside. Four large packages wrapped in Eugen's signature brown paper were balanced precariously in Abram's arms. The healer gave Shanoa an awkward, crooked smile before he rushed over to the kitchen table and half placed, half dropped them onto the wooden surface, taking care to avoid smashing the box containing Laura's diadem. He brushed his hands off once the items were safely deposited. Shanoa, without thought, rushed over to her friend and pulled him into a hug, glad to see his face after the grueling ordeal her reclaimed memories had put her through. Abram hesitated a moment before he returned the gesture with reserved enthusiasm.

"It hasn't been THAT long since I've seen you," he said as she pulled away.

"It feels like an age," she said with a smile.

"Did my medicine HELP?"

"It worked wonders."

Both men studied her with knowing eyes. In another life, she would have felt judged or scrutinized under their gaze, but not now. They were true, genuine friends, they knew who she was and the essence of her heart. Who never sought to deceive her or sway her to some accursed end. Whatever thoughts formed inside Abram and Eugen's heads as they looked upon a complete Shanoa were fueled by fondness and actual love. A far cry from what her relationship with Aurelia had been.

"You're different," Abram said after a few moments, his simplistic phrasing somehow the best way either of them could have put it.

"My amnesia is… gone." She said slowly before realizing she needed to give the revelations more weight. "I remember everything. My childhood, my life in the Order of Ecclesia, all the people I'd since forgotten."

"How did you banish it?" Eugen asked.

"Aurelia infiltrated Wygol before she came for Laura and me. She left something for me to find, an old gift, and when I saw the book it triggered my memories." Shanoa's lips dipped into a slight frown. "I couldn't deny myself the knowledge any longer." Shanoa wondered, for a moment, if she should divulge the full details of her past, her mission, and what had brought her to Wygol in the first place. But it would be a lengthy and personal discussion. The kind to reserve for a quiet day and long cups of tea, as she'd shared it with Daniela. Eugen and Abram didn't need to know every sordid detail about her past to offer their support; they already knew enough. "I now know that Aurelia and I worked together for years. And during this time, I… I thought we were friends."

Silence lingered for a moment before Eugen spoke. "And then she betrayed you."

"Tale as old as Ecclesia, I'm afraid," Shanoa said, unable to keep the lingering sorrow out of her voice. "The Order was rotten at its core. Horrible men doing ungodly things in the name of virtue and goodness. When I found out the truth I fought back; dismantled their influence and righted their wrongs as best I could."

"And she sees your actions as their own betrayal," Eugen said with a knowing nod.

"Aurelia didn't share my naivety. She was committed fully to Ecclesia's true cause, and even though the Order lies in ruin she will stop at nothing to see their aims fulfilled."

"She is a dangerous foe." The blacksmith crossed his arms over his chest, a slight frown on his lips as he contemplated the brand of creature Aurelia was. "This woman will draw you in to her games, try to tempt you into losing yourself. You must have the strength to endure."

"I'm not the same young girl I was when she first spun me into her web," Shanoa said with confidence. "I won't fall prey to her wiles again."

"Good!" Abram said with a start. "Make that monster PAY for what she's done to you!"

"No, Abram," Eugen said in a curt tone, his eyes cutting to the healer. "That would be vengeance, not justice."

Shanoa nodded. "He's right. I can't lose myself in feelings of revenge, otherwise I'm no better than her."

Eugen considered something for a moment before he turned, meeting the young warrior's gaze. "Does she know we're Belmonts?"

A thousand questions birthed inside Shanoa's mind upon hearing those words. How did he know, how long had he known, and how had the knowledge of his lineage shaped Eugen's life thus far? Did he lament it like Laura, or had he come to a blessed accepted and assuredness in his latent power a la Daniela? Did he know that was Castlevania on the horizon? Did he know the true shape of Shanoa's mission; the deed she'd accomplished in the shadows one fateful morning?

Shanoa looked to the blacksmith in a silent request for an explanation, but when his gaze met hers the warrior's curiosity was assuaged. Here was another friend burdened by a lineage of vengeance and ancient vows. Of course Eugen knew he was a Belmont. He knew everyone who lived in Wygol was his long-lost kin. This, Shanoa realized, was why he'd devoted himself to building this village; toiling away by his lonesome to construct empty buildings he hoped would one day be filled. It was a feverish effort to find the family he'd once lost.

"She does," Shanoa said at length. "And Aurelia is determined to see the bloodline end."

Eugen grunted. "Then I see why she has to die, especially if there's no persuading her. Unfortunate, but she leaves us with little choice."

Abram gaped wide-eyed at the blacksmith as they spoke. A sudden wealth of understanding birthed within the younger man's expression. "WAIT, Eugen, you're…?"

The blacksmith held Abram's gaze. Then, he turned over his wrist and ran the tips of his fingers along the thick blue veins running beneath the skin. Abram gasped and stumbled backwards, falling into a chair as his chest heaved.

"I… I'm not the last?" the healer said in an uncharacteristic whisper.

"The blood in Wygol runs strong," Eugen said. "It ties all of us together, and it's why God brought us here."

Abram's mouth moved wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, he looked up at Shanoa, eyes full of wonder. "Even Laura?"

"She's Richter's granddaughter," Shanoa said with a small smile.

The healer's head bobbed up and down in quick succession as he ran a shaking hand through his hair. "Jesus, this… this is a LOT."

"And we'll have plenty of time to discuss it later," Eugen said as he turned to Shanoa. "But for now, war beckons. And, at long last, you're ready."

Without further ceremony, Eugen ripped the brown paper from the package in his hands. Once freed from its confines, he held up the contents for both parties to see. Shanoa's lips curved in an eager grin while Abram appeared dumbstruck.

The revealed piece was a beautiful platinum breastplate with a near-white finish and edges reamed in gold. The armor curved to accommodate her figure and in its center – positioned over Shanoa's heart – lay the image of a golden Sun. Its rays spread across the surface of the armor, charted by indents chiseled into the metal face; hard lines that touched every mote of its gleaming expanse.

And then she recognized the armor.

"This is…" Shanoa trailed off, her words barely more than a whisper.

"Ignorance is no excuse for what you did. You entered the castle with the blatant intention of throwing your life away. You broke your promise to me. You fought without heart or purpose, and that's something I refuse to let my work be used for. I craft armor for warriors, not suicidal children." He lifted the breastplate in his hands and held it between them. "I'm not going to repair this armor or sell you another set. But… I won't discard it.

"I'm going to hold onto it, because I know a thousand ways to repair metal, but I know nothing of repairing souls. It's a subject is beyond my expertise. So, I will leave that task to those better equipped to handle such delicate material, and in the meantime I'll wait. No matter how long it takes, I will wait until you've regained your purpose. Found a cause worthy of fighting for. Only then will I repair this armor, and when I do it will be but a shadow of its former self. I will craft the strongest metal in all of Europe, but not until you are able to wear my creation with the honor it deserves."

"I made you a promise, and I'm a man who keeps his promises." Eugen held the breastplate towards her. "Try it on."

A near giddy expression formed on her face as she took the armor from him. She donned the breastplate with practiced ease. It was a perfect fit, no surprise, seeing as it'd been molded specifically for her. Eugen unwrapped the remaining packages and presented her with a pair of matching gauntlets and greaves. Enough to protect her limbs while leaving her tattoos exposed. Eugen had picked up on that important detail soon after he began making armor for her. These new pieces shared the same artistic style as the breastplate. The rays of sunlight – her sunlight – continued in indentations embedded into their surfaces. Shanoa donned the armor in turn and stood before the men; gleaming and brilliant.

"WOW," Abram said, punctuating the sentiment with a soft whistle.

Eugen had no immediate verbal response. Instead, his face morphed into an expression she'd never seen before. His lips curved upwards in a wide, approving grin. "Not even a monster can touch you now," the blacksmith said.

"There's just one more thing," the warrior said.

The box containing the diadem had been lost amidst a sea of brown paper. Shanoa pushed the discarded wrapping out of the way and Abram snatched up a few stray pieces before they could fall to the floor. She gave him a grateful smile as she opened the lid. Her breath caught once more at the sight of the diadem's brilliance, and she lifted it out of the box with care. As the circlet settled against her scalp she felt the surge of enhanced might course through her entire body.

At last, she was ready.

"Did LAURA make that?" Abram asked.

"Indeed she did," Shanoa said with a smile.

"DAMN, she truly loves you."

"And I promise I will bring her back," the warrior said with utmost confidence; fueled by the boons afforded to her by a found family. "I will make sure no harm comes to Laura or anyone else in Wygol."

"Then we'll see you off," Eugen said.

At his bidding, the trio made their way to the back door and exited onto the cobblestone streets. The air was unusually warm for the time of year, the rise in temperature aided by the unobscured Sun hanging high in the sky. A strong breeze flowed past, heading towards the West, towards Ecclesia. Shanoa pondered her options for a moment before settling on a decision.

"Do you want us to WALK with you for a bit?" Abram asked.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm not going to walk," she said with a sly grin. Both men regarded her with puzzled expressions before she realized neither of them knew she had wings. Her grin grew into a beaming smile as she stepped into the middle of the road. "I'm going to fly."

Shanoa summoned Volaticus, the black wings sprouting from her back in a purple glow, but she didn't linger to watch their reactions. The warrior turned, crouched, and vaulted into the air. The wings themselves didn't enable flight, merely permitted her to steer and control direction. The secret – as with most Glyphs – lay in the complex spell inscribed within the sigil she'd absorbed. She warped the air around her wings in order to create pressurized currents which allowed the warrior to escape the bonds of solid earth. Flight was still physically taxing, however, and she'd need to rest every few kilometers.

The wind at Shanoa's back helped carry her upwards, and within moments she crested the surrounding treetops. The full expanse of the Carpathian wilderness was laid out before her; a near endless stretch of untouched woodlands dyed with all the colors of a freshly setting Sun. Around the forest's expanse rose craggy mountaintops and the warrior realized – if she so desired – she could soar above the stone behemoths. Her eyes turned from the peaks and sought her quarry. There, in the distance, she spied the landmark hidden from her the previous evening. A bastion of white stone concealed from a ground's eye view by the natural rise of the earth around it.

Ecclesia's fortress.

Shanoa flew through the air, striking out towards the place she'd once called home. The trees passed in a blur beneath her as she soared over the landscape. Bright rays of sunlight reflected off her platinum armor, casting the warrior in a radiant glow. The was her light. The rays that would finally dispel Ecclesia's darkness from the world.

She'd spent her entire life trapped inside a literal and figurative cage, but now? Nothing could keep her enshrined.

Not even the misguided hubris of an errant Shadow.

Additional notes: I changed where Shanoa found the Alexandrite because the existence of the "secret areas" does not make much sense outside the context of a video game. Why would the hero waste countless hours grinding through an abandoned facility for randomized rewards when there's a Dark Lord to slay? Shanoa would never allow for such a diversion, and I figured it was within Barlowe's nature to lay sole claim on so valuable a gem.

I also altered the Royal Crown's design into something much more suited for actual combat. I hope you like it.