Chapter 25: War

The deck of the Peacemillion was a rush of movement that morning, Trowa observed.

Soldiers, healers, support, troop leaders, all milled about and rushed as they readied themselves. For battle, for the injured, for failure and success alike. The airship had started its descent about an hour ago, just as the sun finished rising out of dawn and the battalions needed to be ready from the moment the gangway extended. There was a kind of comfort in the chaos.

"We've just received word," Rashid said, his voice deep and sure from behind Quatre. Trowa looked back at him, found those dark eyes focused on him. "They have agreed to the parlay. It's been set for noon."

"Good," Trowa said. "That will make things easier."

He turned his eyes back to the sight before him. At the size of Treize's forces as compared to the much smaller remains of Ralph's and Venti's armies. He was impressed they held the border as long as they had—the number Treize managed to rally was impressive. He knew some of it was Epyon's influence, but Treize was a charismatic man. Without their full forces coming for a week, it would be a hard win if their plan didn't succeed.

But, they wouldn't let it come to that. The five of them would stop Epyon before it did. They had to.

"Did they tell you who all would be there?" Heero asked Rashid, his eyes dark from his focus of their mission. "At this parlay?"

"Yes," Rashid rumbled. "Quinze and Dekim Barton will both be present, as will Treize and one of his generals, a Colonel Une."

Quatre paled and whipped around so fast Trowa worried he got whiplash.

"Did you say Une?" Quatre's words were clipped and angry, angrier than Trowa could remember hearing from his gentle husband. Even when verbally sparring with Dorothy, he hadn't sounded like this.

"Ah, yes, Master Quatre," Rashid confirmed, a look of alarm and worry crossing his face. Trowa echoed it—he turned and was about to reach out to Quatre, but he stepped out of reach, hands clenched tight at his side and the angry waves emanating off of him so harsh it gave him a headache through the link. One look at the others told him he wasn't alone in his discomfort. For once in his life, Quatre didn't seem to care, solely focused on Rashid.

"Une? You're sure?" Quatre repeated. Trowa frowned—the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"Yes—what is wrong, Master Quatre?"

"I can't—can't believe I didn't see the connection sooner," Quatre mumbled, mostly to himself. "She—she helped. This whole time she was—kept pushing for Treize, even after Trowa—"

"Quat," Trowa interjected, drawing Quatre's blazing blue eyes up to his own. "What is it?"

"Colonel Une," Quatre said slowly, as if he was testing the words as he said them. "Sounds an awful lot like Lady Une, doesn't it?"

Then it clicked.

Quatre hardly ever called his stepmother by her name, but there were a few times, as the Bear, that he could remember him using it. It clicked for Sally too, judging by the way she clapped a hand over her mouth in shock.

"Not to kick the hornet's nest or anything, but who the nine hells is Lady Une?" Duo asked.

"My stepmother," Quatre answered, staring at Trowa with fire in his eyes. Trowa felt a similar rage start to simmer and build in him as well. "She married my father five years ago—around the same time Treize first appeared in Araaban."

Heero's face went flinty while Wufei looked like a storm cloud. The implication that Quatre's stepmother was not only involved with Epyon from the start, but also in his father's death was clear. Duo blanched but looked just as angry as the rest. And then he said, matter-of-factly, "Well, that's two bitches going down today."

There was a beat of silence before the anger that spiked so suddenly through the bond tempered and Quatre's body relaxed a little. He turned to look at Duo and then, amazingly, smiled, a wild and fierce thing that would have been distracting in different circumstances. Determination and promise singing through his own veins the same as Quatre's.

"Yes," Quatre said, the word a vow. Then he blinked and looked around, realizing he was projecting on each of them (plus Sally and Rashid, to a lesser extent without the link). His posture softened, as did his face. "Oh, I didn't mean to—I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize," Heero said briskly, the look on his face eager, nearly vibrating in anticipation for their confrontation.

"Yeah!" Duo said, clapping Quatre on the shoulder. "In fact, feel free to share some of that spiciness before we kick some ass—that felt awesome."

Even Wufei smirked before he fixed Quatre with a serious gaze. "We will get justice for your father, and for everyone whose lives have been lost in this conflict."

Quatre nodded and watched them all head to their rooms to get ready, armor and weapons polished and fit for them the night before. Trowa touched his shoulder, gaining his attention before gesturing inside. Quatre nodded and they fell into pace beside each other as they made their way to their rooms.

"I'm sorry, Quat," Trowa offered. It wasn't even close to adequate, but Trowa knew there wouldn't be words that could sooth this new, unpleasant surprise. He knew a thing or two about family betrayal and there wasn't a way to make it better with words.

Quatre caught his eyes, the pain and grief still so close to the surface, but not bending the steel that ran through his spine. And still, even with all that, he gave Trowa a small, grateful smile. "Thank you. I'm not—I'm not surprised? I mean I am that she's here and a part of Treize's army but—not, at the same time. Not that she's involved. Does that make sense?"

Trowa nodded, clearing some of the distressed outrage from Quatre's face. "She was cruel to your father, and you. I remember that—it made me angry."

"Yes, I, yes," Quatre said. They reached their rooms and Quatre et his eyes as they closed the door, making no move to change yet. "My father he—he was a peaceful man, a forgiving one. I know he'd hate that I'm feeling this way. This consuming, vengeful anger, even for her."

Trowa wasn't sure if Quatre even knew what he was asking for, absolution, permission, if he even was asking for anything. He could feel the conflict, the righteousness of his anger, his guilt at disappointing the shade of his father's memory. Trowa took Quatre's face in between his hands, cradling it preciously. "Your father loved you, all parts of you. Even parts he didn't like."

That seemed to be what he needed to hear. "He did."

"Yes," Trowa agreed, pressing a kiss to Quatre's forehead. "I don't think he'd begrudge you a little avenging on his and your family's behalf."

Quatre let out a laugh, a little teary and little hysterical, but he nodded. "If Iria was here, she'd tell me to, well, probably something crass and along the lines of what Duo said."

Trowa smirked. "She always did strike me as the most sensible of your sisters."

"Always the most sensible," Quatre agreed. Then, his own hands came up to cup under Trowa's jaw. "We're going to stop them. Epyon, Treize, Une, all of them."

"Yes we are," Trowa agreed, the words almost a growl, the Bear coming through.

With that, they broke apart and got ready.

Their changing was efficient, focused, and left little room for lingering looks or touches. Still, after Trowa was dressed, and helping Quatre belt up the leather fastenings to his armor, he couldn't help but appreciate the traditional Quattuon battle garb on his husband. It fit good, emphasizing the length of his body and the lean, compact muscles he'd developed over his journey. It made him look dangerous, the dark red of the leather jerkin pairing well with the bronze breastplate and bracers that layered to his shoulders. It was different from his own, the steel of his armor a dark gray and more standard in style.

Quatre raised a brow at him, as his thoughts trickled over through the link. He was failing to fight the pleased smile threatening to break free. "Is now really the most appropriate time?"

Trowa shrugged, without shame. "I think the Maguanacs will swoon when they see you."

"Trowa!" The blush that covered his face made him look younger in that moment; it didn't look right with him suited up in armor. It was enough to cool his own humor and hand Quatre his shotels to strap to his belt and scabbards. Quatre did so with a casual ease that spoke to his skill. Trowa's own sword and cross bow were already stowed and strapped in.

"Ready?" Trowa asked.

Quatre nodded and they made their way back up to the deck, pausing only to brace themselves as the Peacemillion made its ground landing.

He and Quatre were rejoined by the others on the airship's deck. Heero was in armor similar to his own while Wufei's looked fearsome, the layering steel giving the illusion of scales—Dragon clan indeed. Duo had on traditional Elven leathers, sturdy but allowing for more movement. Of the five of them, his armor was probably the most vulnerable, but Trowa had seen Duo fight on the isle. He was not concerned; Heero kept eyeing the leathers with a frown, suggesting he wasn't quite as carefree about the vulnerabilities. Not enough to say anything—Heero was just as familiar, if not more so, with Duo's prowess with the bewitched scythe.

It was Heero who broke the tense silence after most of the Peacemillion had offloaded the fighters, healers, and various support laborers to a cacophony of barked orders and rallying cries.

"Time to end this."

"Fuck yes," Duo agreed. He had some sort of paint streaked across his face and it made his smile look feral. A glance at the disembarking Elves from Captain Solo's airship showed similar paint-streaked faces. "These assholes have a date with the Maker."

"Must you always be so vulgar?" Wufei asked, mostly rhetorical, as they made their way to the gangway.

"Don't know any other way, 'Fei!"

When then reached the bottom, setting feet on solid earth, Rashid, little Nix on his shoulder, and Ralph were both waiting for them with five horses and several of their generals. Cathy was there too, prepared to help Sally, her eyes full of worry as she took them in, settling on Trowa. He offered a smile and she tried to return it but looked too watery to be real.

"Captain Zechs and Noin have taken most of their troops around to support where our lines are weakest," Ralph said in greeting. "Captains Solo and al'Fada have set up reserves in our middle."

"Good." It was Quatre who answered—Ralph blinked, probably expecting someone else, but recovered well enough. "Sally needs to set up tents for the wounded here, with cover fire from the airships to provide protection. Rashid, where will the Maguanacs be?"

"In the front, ready to support should negotiations run sour," Rashid answered plainly. Behind him, each of his generals nodded along with him, Auda included.

Quatre nodded, not pleased by any of it, but knowing they'd need quick support if their plan had hiccups. Or took longer than anticipated. Knowing how to strike Epyon didn't mean they'd be able to do it quick—or that it would only take once. Especially if they were aiming towards a more permanent end this round. The parlay was taking place midway between their two forces, having the Maguanacs nearby and ready was a good idea, even if they were at higher risk as a result.

"When the fighting starts, no one should kill Treize," Heero ordered. "Make sure your forces know—if you kill him before we've had a chance to take out Epyon, this will have all been for nothing."

Ralph nodded. "I'll make sure they all know. Good luck. May the Ladies be with us today."

As he swung up on his own horse, Cathy hurried forward and hugged Trowa tight first, then did the same with Quatre and Wufei. She nodded at Heero and Duo and met Trowa's eyes. "Don't be stupid."

"We'll try our best, Cathy."

She nodded and then turned, off to help Sally with the injured. Rashid called out for the Maguanacs to mount up and Trowa followed suit with the others, swinging into his seat easy. As the sun rose to its zenith, and noon approached, they rode off to the parlay, the Maguanacs following like thunder behind them. As they passed, cheers went up behind them; Trowa hardly heard them, too focused on Quatre and the mission.

As they rode out past the front lines, Quatre turned to Wufei. "Is it ready?"

Wufei nodded, face grim. "It's ready and waiting for the final sigil."

"Ok…ok, we draw Epyon out."

"And I will enact the last sigil," Wufei finished, repeating what they had gone over last night. "The leylines will links us to the energy in the Colony Kingdoms."

"You link us all up as one," Heero said, addressing Quatre even though his gaze remained forward. "And Wufei guides the energy through the link."

"We take aim," Trowa said simply.

"And hit the crazy war-mongering spirit hard enough that she doesn't get back up," Duo finished. "Easy."

"Yeah, easy," Quatre echoed. He tensed and Trowa turned his eyes forward to see the sight of Treize and his allies now visible on their horizon. He turned and said, with steel in his voice, "Rashid, hold the Maguanacs here. We'll go on alone."

Rashid bowed in his saddle, "As you say, your Highness."

Quatre faced forward and his grip tightened on the reins. "Let's go."

And they did, each spurring their horse into a faster trot, pulling ahead from their forces to meet their enemy. It didn't take long for them to reach the other party.

Trowa met Treize before, years ago. His memory was of a charming, handsome man who wore his royalty well. Easy smiles, regal bearing, and someone who had no challenge in bringing all manner of gentry and common people under his spell. Trowa, who had only been named prince for less than a decade, from a bastard line of the Barton family tree, had been jealous of him.

Looking at Treize now, he was almost unrecognizable.

Treize looked gaunt, shadowed, and like he was half of what he'd been. His auburn hair was long now and lank around a face half-covered in stubble. He had always been muscular before, but he looked shrunken on himself. His skin was pale as death, and his eyes—there was nothing of Treize in those glowing, green eyes rimmed by solid black. As they slowed their horses on their approach, Trowa could hear Quatre let out a breath.

"Did he look like that in Araaban?" Trowa asked, softly as they got closer, bringing his horse up alongside his husband's to ensure he could hear him.

"No," Quatre grit out. Trowa followed his eyes and recognized the woman standing behind Treize, he hair up tight in matching, braided buns on either side of her face. He recognized her, seeing through the eyes of the Bear. Lady Une, or Colonel Une, Quatre's stepmother. "No he didn't."

"That's what Epyon does to ya," Duo chimed in from Quatre's other side. He said it loud enough to be heard. "Poisons you from the inside out."

Trowa hummed in agreement and watched as Quatre's eyes took in his former-suitor, the pity there unmistakable. Trowa took a moment to marvel at his husband's kindness, still able to come forward even now, before focusing on the rest of their opposition.

Dekim Barton looked much the same as Trowa remembered, down to the sneer leveled at him. As did Dekim's son, the something-removed cousin who shared his name. Trowa didn't recognize the other two men flanking him, but they had clearly been brought along to intimidate based on their size. He knew Quinze only by the pointed ears peeking under his white hair. He had two White Fang acolytes with him, but he was the only one who looked wrinkled—that meant he was either incredibly old, millennia if Duo's haphazard explanation of Elven aging was even halfway correct, or he'd traded away years in exchange for power.

If the focus of Dekim's ire was Trowa, Duo was undoubtedly the focus of Quinze's.

Treize looked at no one besides Quatre, riding center in their formation.

They waited to dismount until the other party did, following suit and matching up across the field from them. They were outnumbered, but it didn't feel like it. Trowa stared blandly across the field at the other party, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword and waited for one of them to start speaking. It did not take long.

"So, not quite a poor merchant's son after all, Quatre," Treize said. There was an echo to his voice, not sounding wholly his own.

"No, that's just not all I am," Quatre responded, calmly. Then, just as calm, "Hello, Lady."

His stepmother said nothing, her stare cold and empty.

"Were here to discuss the terms of your surrender," Heero broke in before Treize could say anything further. "Not gossip about pedigree."

Quinze frowned harder and Dekim chuckled. "Our surrender? You must be joking! Even with your reinforcements and airships, our numbers are far superior!"

"You're awfully sure about that," Duo drawled, an easy smile on his face. "We took out Romefeller with a hell of a lot less."

Dekim sputtered and glared hotly. "If you think we are as careless as Dermail was to allow that, you're even more foolish than I thought."

Duo shrugged. "Your funeral. Maybe this will be more of a challenge."

Trowa had to hand it to him—Duo was a master at infuriation. His glib tone and demeanor put their enemy on edge and Treize was no exception. Good.

"Treize, traitor to the kingdom of Kushrenada," Wufei announced, voice dripping in disdain. "We are here to negotiate the full surrender of you and all your allies to restore your brother, Ralph, as the rightful king and heir. Do you surrender or not?"

"I do not," Treize said, the words like rocks being scraped against sandpaper. "I propose an alliance."

This was news to his allies—Une included.

"An alliance?" Trowa asked, making sure to keep his tone bored, bordering on insolent. The green in his eyes flared a little, Epyon bristling at the disrespect leveled towards her and her puppets. "That's rich."

"Especially coming from the guy who couldn't even keep all his other allies safe," Duo laughed, ugly and snide. "Are we gonna get the same deal as Dorothy?"

Treize frowned and there were grumbles from his other allies behind him. "We are here to parlay, to discuss bloodless options to—"

"No, you're here to surrender," Heero drawled. "And put an end to this farce of a campaign."

"If you can call a regicidal coup a campaign," Wufei sneered and Duo let out a bark of laughter. His hands were held behind his back, fingers poised and at the ready.

"Enough!" Treize shouted, green energy flaring up and around him, forcing his allies to step back. There was a feminine timbre to his voice now. "I will not be surrendering today or any other! If you seek to end this war without further loss of life, then the only way is an alliance with me, with us. Bind the Colony Kingdoms to my cause, and we'll spare your pitiful band of allies."

"No," Quatre said, his rejection sure and true. "We can't do that, Treize. Please, for your own sake, and for those who follow you, lay down your sword."

It was the plea that did it.

The green faded, just for a moment, and Treize, just Treize, stared back at Quatre, at all of them, as if lost and unsure how to find his way back. Weakness; not the them, but to Epyon. Weakness after thousands of years and failed attempts to plunge this world into darkness, and now, when it was within her grasp, weakness. It was what they were hedging their bets on, why Duo and the rest of them had needled and needled at them. Insulted them, insulted her. Trowa tensed and took a breath as the green flared bright and hot, practically exploding out of Treize.

"Your Excellency!" Une cried out as Treize crumpled to his knees and above him, rose a figure, all reds and greens and fire.

-I WILL NOT SURRENDER, FOOLS. I WILL DESTROY YOU ALL-

Wufei's hands moved, Quatre linked them all, eyes going wide, Trowa and Heero braced themselves as pure, clean energy rushed through their nervous systems and veins and Duo growled, "You can fucking try, you crazy bitch."

Trowa grit his teeth and they, as one, unleashed the energy from the Fey, like lightning, straight at Epyon.

Sally watched as the sky flared and the sun was hidden from view, clouds gathering from seemingly nowhere. Her hands clenched tight in the bandages she was carrying.

It was happening. She could feel it.

There was power in the air around them, vibrating under their feet, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth with each breath in. And then there was shouting, unmistakable battle cries and the ground shook for a different reason. Pushing aside her worry, her dread, she turned and barked out order to the healers who were just as frozen as she'd been moments before.

"To your stations! Prepare for the wounded, get your supplies and salves! Make sure you stay clear of the energy cannons on the Peacemillion, you won't have much warning if they need to be fired!"

At her words, there was a mad scramble and rush of movement, herself included. She passed by Cathy but didn't spare any words for her on the way back to the station she'd assigned to herself. It was closest to the battle lines and way from the safety of the airships' cannons. She could hear the clash of weapons and tried to tell herself it wasn't any more than planned, than anticipated.

That the plan hadn't failed.

That Wufei—

"Sally!" She turned as another healer called her name and brought in someone dressed in Ralph's colors. She pushed everything else down and to the side and let her training flood her.

"What's injured?" She asked, coming to stand beside the bleeding man.

"Took an arrow to the left shoulder." Yes, she could see the broken arrow shaft now. She was grateful whoever brought the man in hadn't yanked the damn thing out to try and 'help'. All that would help is the man to bleed out faster.

"Get that green jar, those pliers, and some compression pads."

The healer scampered off to grab each of those things and Sally sliced open the soldier's leathers to get at the wound easier, watching as another person was being hauled in.

Right—to work.

"Hold this position!" Zechs called out, his old helm covering half his face and head already streaked with dirt and blood. Noin knew she didn't fare much better. "Do not break ranks!"

"You heard your Captain!" Noin shouted out to their men, a mixture of the Peacemillion crew and some of Ralph's remaining forces. "Force them back!"

There was a rallying cry and they did just that, pushing back Treize's forces enough that she and a contingent of Elven warriors could slip under their shields, fast as quicksilver, and take advantage of their enemy's disorientation. She lost herself in the movements, in the battle, her long knives like extensions of her arms as she cut down the men and women trying to find their footing.

Above her head, Solo's ship fired off cannon blasts, hitting reinforcements coming in from the east. Noin blinked as she felt the heat from the blasts on her face.

It all happened so suddenly, as was often the way with war.

They formed their lines and ranks, filing in along with relieved looking men and women from Kushrenada and Venti. Some asked if the rumors were true, if Epyon was leading their enemy and if, like history repeating itself, five new great ones had come. Zechs rolled his eyes at the 'great ones' comment but hadn't disagreed, knowing it would bolster their spirits.

The Maguanacs were solid and formidable at their front, half on horseback and the other half split into even phalanxes, all huge and imposing. The other airship captains were spread out amongst the lines as well, and some of the brave souls they'd rescued from Romefeller. And, in the distance, she could see the five Colony Kingdom princes facing down Treize and his allies. Everything had been still and quiet, a looming cloud before the thunder clapped.

Until a bright flare of green and exploded out and up from the middle of their field. A specter, a childhood nightmare made real. She had fire in her hair and a vicious whip twice the size of her coiled and arched in the air above her head.

Epyon.

The Maguanacs did not waste time. The moment Epyon appeared, they charged forward, Nix transforming into his larger, fearsome form, calling all of them to the princes, to fight back Treize and his forces, to protect the Fey and their families. The other army charged as well and Noin watches Elves with the White Fang rise above and shoot magic at them, only to be repelled when the Elves from Taurus who joined their advance party repelled their attacks back. Zechs urged their forces forward, establishing a new front line to hold and meet Treize's army, digging their heels into the mud as they crashed together.

She saw their forces go down. She saw the enemy's go down too. Healers were darting in to drag those not dead or too far gone away, desperately avoiding getting killed themselves. Not all were successful.

Noin's blades hit into something soft and wet as she struck down a charging soldier and called for their troops to push forward again. Press the advantage while they had it—Treize's numbers were greater than theirs, they needed to make every strike count twice as much. If they lost someone, they needed to return the favor and take three of theirs. It was the only way they'd survive long enough to win.

For whatever plan Quatre and the others cooked up to work.

An unearthly shriek reverberated through the air and Noin felt the chill from it down to her bones. She was proud she didn't cower at the sound, like so many others had. She shook it off and called for them to press again, push forward while Treize's forces were off balance and covering their ears, weapons forgotten and shields down. As they did, she caught eyes with Zechs and could feel a mirror of what she was feeling in her partner.

She sure hoped that shriek was a good sign.

The smell of war was choking her.

All soot and pain and—Cathy coughed and pushed her hair away from her face and the thought from her mind. The heat from the Peacemillion's cannons made the air around the aid tents she was stationed at humid and sticky when mixed with the cool air sweeping down from the storm clouds roiling in the sky. It also made the smell worse, made it cling to her skin and clothes.

"Your Highness!" She turned at the honorific, meeting the frantic cry of one of runners. "The scouts report that Epyon has not been destroyed, but she has been wounded."

She tried her best to not let the fear she felt at that statement show. "And the princes?"

"Alive and fighting, your Highness."

"That's, that's good," she said, amazed her voice stayed steady. "Inform King Ralph and make sure he sends messengers to the captains with this news. We can expect fighting to continue while Epyon is still galvanizing their side."

"Yes, your Highness!" And with a nod, the runner was gone, rushing off to where Ralph set up his command center. When it was just her, and everyone was too busy to pay her any mind, she let out a choked-off sob, closing her eyes as the sting of tears threatened to fall.

Epyon was not defeated—Trowa and the others were still alive, but if Epyon was too, that meant they didn't hit her strong enough. Or miscalculated. Or something else happened. She inhaled, a wet, shaky process, but she did it, swallowing down the absolute terror she felt in the process.

Cathy had always known that there was a possibility that Trowa would have to fight. After he was named the Prince of Tria Colonies, a shock to not only their estranged Barton relatives, but to everyone in the Bloom family circus troupe, she knew this was a possibility. As Prince, he'd been chosen, by Heavyarms no less, to defend and protect the Tria Colonies. She'd always known that meant the possibility of fighting to defend his people.

But now, facing the reality of that fact, she recognized she could never have been prepared for the sheer panic she felt at the thought of her brother being out there. In that roiling mass of violence and screams. Facing off against a foe that was ancient and ruthless. And not just Trowa either—Quatre too, and Wufei. Heero and Duo she knew less intimately by virtue of the fact they didn't live in Tria Colonies, but they all important to her and now they—

"White Fang sorcerer!"

Cathy's head jerked up as one of their watchwomen's call went out from the deck of the Peacemillion. Sure enough, she saw the Elven fanatic, face and hair streaked with white, streaking high above the tree line, preparing to strike at the supply and healer tents. She knew what would come next and shouted out at the healers and laborers around her.

"Get to cover!"

The cannons from the Peacemillion powered up and Cathy felt the heat singe the air. They shot out at the sorcerer, killing them instantly before they could launch whatever spell they'd cast. Cathy got up and brushed off her clothes before she hurried back to the tent, urging the sheltering men and women back to their feet. The imminent danger passed, and the cannons cooling again, they went back to their harried tasks.

Passing a healer a roll of bandages and holding down an injured archer where directed, Cathy found her gaze drawn towards the battlefield and a prayer slipping past her lips.

"Please be safe, Trowa."

War was everywhere. To be expected.

Even if she hadn't been waiting for it, poised at the cliff's ledge, she would have been able to sense it. She was sure many in the Fey did—if they gave thought to how the outcome would impact them was unlikely, but they could sense it. Perhaps even some outside the Fey, in the Other, did as well.

This would shake and splinter through both worlds, all possibilities, in the end.

And beyond—she had Seen it. The future's path nearly fixed, should the new Five prevail today.

She watched through the Veil as the five previously chosen watched, forbidden from anything else. Their time was the past, they could not interfere.

She watched as armies clashed. Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Beast People, Mundanes and Mages, Goblins, and many others.

She watched as the Areenjan battled and tore apart his enemy, ignoring the wounds he gained in the process.

She watched as magic clashed in the air, sending sparks and smoke careening over the heads of those fighting like arcs of lightning.

She watched and she waited.

Call me.

Epyon had come forth into the world again, taking corporeal form. It was nearly time. Time to see who of the two of them was correct.

Call me, she thought, eyes staring, watching, as her adversary, her other self now, advanced. Chaos to her Order. Epyon—her greatest success or failure. She was still evaluating that answer.

Call me, Prince. Call me.

It didn't work.

Well, it did, but not as much as they all hoped and believed it would.

Epyon was injured, but not bound and defeated.

It didn't work, damn it!

Quatre didn't have time to lament the fact too much after the dust settled and Epyon, still there, retaliated. It was a miracle they'd all been able to scatter out of the way of that whip as it came raining down, all green fire and rage. And then, when Treize's allies ordered their forces to attack, it wasn't just Epyon they had to worry about. He was grateful for the Maguanacs insistence at being at the front, even if he'd hated the thought of them being so close to danger at the time. Without their calvary rushing forward, meeting the enemy forces head-on, Quatre was sure the five of them would have been overwhelmed.

It should have worked, he thought as he brought up his shotels against one of the men Dekim Barton had brought with him, blocking him with ease and reversing his attack in one fluid motion that ended with the man down on the ground and Quatre standing. Their attack on Epyon should have worked.

The energy from the Colony Kingdoms, the magic, rushed up from the leylines at Wufei's call. Quatre linked them all with his empathy. They sent the magic barreling towards Epyon with all their will united as one at defeating her. And it hit her—but she did not fall.

Quatre had been forced to break the link and they had been forced to retreat and defend against Epyon's attack. Quatre could still feel echoes of the others, he knew none of them had given up or would, all of them were still determined to defeat Epyon, even if they didn't know how. There had to be something that was missing. Something they hadn't thought of—something they hadn't done or taken into consideration.

Call me.

Quatre brought his shotels back up against another attacker, cutting him down in time to see Trowa facing off against his great-uncle and second cousin with Heero, forcing them both back as the Maguanacs encircled them and kept the rest of Treize's armies from reaching them. Duo was fighting off against Quinze while Wufei shot fire at the acolytes. Nix arrived just before the Maguanacs and was all fury and fang as he covered all of their blind sides, preventing them from being snuck up on. And cutting off Epyon and her whip, absorbing the blow for all of them so they could dodge her.

They were winning against Treize's army, but that wouldn't matter if Epyon wasn't stopped.

Call me.

Quatre felt worn and battered. The rage and pain and fear from the battle pressed and gouged at his defenses, already weakened due to linking with the others earlier. He blocked and overpowered another attacker, watched as Heero killed Dekim and Duo take off Quinze's head with his scythe while Trowa defeated his second cousin and Wufei turned his fire on Epyon. Treize was helped up off the ground by Lady Une and she defended him with a passion he had never seen for his own family, facing off against one of the Maguanacs.

It—it wasn't enough.

Call me, Prince. Call me.

Quatre paused, the whisper in his head louder now, breaking through his shields and echoing in his mind. Someone was calling to him, calling for him. And then, it was clear.

Zero.

What had she said…Until a time he calls on me…

And Heavyarms had said…Remember, Quatre…remember to call. She'll come.

That was it—that's what was missing.

Quatre looked to Nix, meeting the fierce, all-blue eyes. "I need them, I need all of them."

Nix growled deep in his chest and nodded before leaping over the fallen and the fighting and coming between Epyon and Wufei, joined by Duo. Nix roared and attacked her, heedless of her return attacks and shrieks.

"Wufei!" Quatre shouted, getting his attention, getting all of their attention. "You need to open the leylines back up—I know what we need to do!"

Wufei didn't argue; he came to stand back beside him, the others all joining as well, hands moving in the familiar ritual. Quatre linked them all again, gritting his teeth as everything rushed through him at once, but did not falter. Trowa, covered in dirt and blood, took his hand and sent what strength he had to him.

"I'm almost done!" Wufei shouted as Nix and Epyon battled, the Areenjan yelping out as the whip raked across his back.

Quatre flung his head back and called out, "Zero!"

And then, she was there, as if she had always been. Epyon stopped and stared, whip going limp in her grip for a moment as she took in the sight of Zero on the battlefield. Zero did not look at her—her yellow eyes fixed on Quatre, the question she had for him silent but so clear between them. Epyon screamed and everyone around them sank to their knees at the strength of it.

"Quatre?" Duo asked.

"Now Wufei!" Quatre yelled instead. And opened his empathy wide to Zero, pulling her in along with all of them, linking her with their will, their desire, their lives.

It felt too much, and not, all at once. He could feel her, Zero, her essence, her being, her power and could feel her entwine with each of them as the magic from the leylines rushed forward again, answering their call. He could feel the weight of her on his soul, on the others, on the world and on Epyon. And this time, when they took aim, her will was bound and tied with theirs into a single order that the magic obeyed.

No more.

Quatre opened his eyes and watched as tendrils of power wound their way around Epyon, clung to her and compelled her despite her frantic thrashes and screams. Quatre felt like he might have been screaming too. They held and did not waver, not until Epyon was fully constrained and bound, until sigils appeared all over her skin and consumed her until all that was left was smoke.

Until she was gone.

Zero turned and pulled back, the rush of her absence feeling like getting caught in a landslide. He thought he saw things as she left, things that made no sense but he knew were true. The Fey and the Mortal realm (Other), a breaking (or maybe a union, it was hard to tell), a new path, five young women holding hands against a reign of destruction and then…they were bigger and not women at all. Standing tall with others and…past and future and the now all at once.

As the visions sped past faster than sight, through it all, Quatre thought he saw Zero smile. And then, she was gone. Blinking out of existence as easily as she'd appeared, leaving nothing but yellow sparks in her wake.

And then, after, there was nothing.