Evening Star
For Love of the Past
Chapter 16
The sun had yet to clear away the early morning mists, when a lone soldier stepped out into a secluded clearing. Yes, she decided, she could consider herself a soldier. She had earned that title, had suffered enough. Today she was a year older. Older. She questioned by what rights a person could truly be considered older. She felt centuries old, yet the world was telling her - No, you are but 16. The lone soldier laughed to herself. Let the worlds around her believe what they want, she knew better. She was not but 16. Which other, who was but 16, knew as many ways to kill a man as she did? Or how to fight and defend themselves in battle as she did? Which other, at 16, had met his or her own death as she had, oh, so very many times before? None. Save one.
And that one, now, walked into the very same, secluded clearing. No longer 16, but now 18, he was the only other to know all of what she knew of the arts of war. Hell, he knew more. Much more. For it was he who had taught her, no, beat into her, everything that she knew. But he had never taught her everything that he knew. Of that, she was certain. But it mattered little. Today it would end. The pain, the suffering. Her pain, her suffering. Today it would all end. How she knew such a fact, she could not say. But she knew the time had come for them to end this. For her to end this.
She felt sorry for him. To look into his eyes was almost painful for her. She loved him still, would always love him, but she knew what had been between them for so long was dead. Not even their friendship had been strong enough to survive. Once, his eyes had been so full of strength, honor, and life. Now, nothing remained, only pain, only loss. She knew her eyes reflected the same. They had done this to each other. Neither blamed the other for the fate they suffered. They had simply bowed down to their plight, accepted it, and now, neither questioned it as they had so many times before. Their loss of each other had consumed them, destroyed them, and all that had been left in the wake of their destruction were hollow shells of the people they had both once been.
It was when all that remained of them were husks, that they became hateful toward each other during training. Both were absolutely without mercy, striking at each other in any way they knew possible. They sought to draw blood, break bones, bring the other to their knees screaming in agony – anything to make the other physically feel what they suffered internally. Their lives beyond training became a blur, but the time had come, and their lives screamed to be seen, and lived, in crystal clarity. Now, Fate and Destiny decided, now it must end.
Aurora took up her sword. Malachite mimicked her actions, his eyes holding a look of defeat. He knew he was beaten before the battle begun – even if it were he to win in the end. The sun's warmth began to dissipate the surrounding mists, doing nothing to warm the hearts of the two warriors standing to face each other in the light of morning's early dawn. She had had enough. Aurora had had enough. She lunged, Malachite blocked. He had taught her well, he prided himself. He had taught her too well. She jumped over head of him, turning in mid air to fall silently to the ground behind him, facing him. Then she attacked. He could not react quickly enough. The blade sliced his arm, deep, but he fought on, paying the pain little heed.
Malachite then became the offender, Aurora the defender, and his still superior skill made itself known. He charged her, and she could not fight him off fast enough. She fell backward on to the ground, keeping his fatal blows at bay with her sword, all the while, still on her back. There, he made a mistake; he underestimated her strength, and lessened his attack's forcefulness. In his momentary weakness, she leapt to her feet, slashing the other arm with her blade as she threw him off balance, catching him slightly off guard. Their swords then meet continuously in a dance of strength and skill; each thrust from one, met with a block from the other. They knew each other's moves, could predict when one was about to jump, or the other about to charge. Neither tired, even as the minutes, the hours, slowly passed them by, as it was anger, fury, which fueled their battle now.
A fatal error was made - she exposed her back to him. It was for but a moment, as she recovered from one of his attempts to block her attack by throwing her backwards. She went to spin around to face him, and far too little, too late Aurora realized her error. She paid the price in full, her back coming in direct contact with the blade of Malachite's sword. Blood stained her clothes, dripped to the ground from the torrents running down her back; pain seared her body. But she fought on. Her strength increased as adrenaline coursed through her body, her mind becoming sharp, viewing everything with a certain clarity, which was border line eerie. Malachite remained cool, calm, and collected. If adrenaline coursed through his veins, he gave no indication. Never fight with anger in your heart, he'd taught her once. For, in the heat of your fury, your eyes become blinded. You will make miscalculations, and your enemy will win. He lived what he preached, that she had to give him. But, she vowed, she would get the better of him yet.
Her window of opportunity opened for mere seconds only, but that was more than enough time for Aurora. Malachite foolishly let down his guard. He'd had her down, her sword knocked from her hand, thrown into the bushes several meters away. He'd believed victory was his, but Aurora refused to be beaten so easily. She swung her legs, hooking them behind his, taking his feet out from underneath him. As he fell, she leapt to her feet, her hand finding his sword in mid air. He laid prone then, on the ground at her feet, his sword pressed into the soft flesh of his neck, held by her. His eyes begged for her to kill him - but she could not. The conviction in her eyes wavered as she realized victory was upon her, but she was not yet prepared to extract her revenge. She could not bare to have his blood on her hands. Oh yes, she loved him still.
Her eyes burned into his as she spoke the fist words spoken between them since the coming of that day's sun, and beyond. "It is done." With that, she dropped the sword and walked out of the clearing as quietly as she had entered, never looking back.
Yet, she did not get far. As Aurora, bloodied and bruised, tired and
wary, neared the edge of the clearing, preparing to end this chapter of
her life for all eternity, to never think of it again, a blinding white
light halted her in her progress. She turned suddenly to find Malachite
standing tall in the clearing; the Sword of Pluto suspended mid air, glowing
in bright intensity. Not knowing as to why, she felt inexplicably drawn
to the Sword, as if it called to her. Moving to stand directly opposite
Malachite in the clearing, looking as he was, to the Sword, she stood witnessed
as the Mark of Pluto, positioned at the blade's base, within the hilt,
began to glow. Its glowing light grew until a beam of
Before her eyes, was held, in mid air, the most beautiful, most ornately and delicately crafted bow and quiver of arrows she'd ever laid eyes on. They were made of silver, both bow and arrows. The bow was large and arching, yet all the same, delicate. A hand grip, positioned at the center of bow, seemed almost to be apart from the bow itself. Consisting of a separate piece of silver wrapped around the bow's center, and with the top and bottom edges of this delicate piece of silver arching out ever so slightly, the illusion was created that the ends of the hand grip were 'curling' away from bow. The bow was strung with a thread of silver so fine, yet so very strong it was barely visible. The arrows were made of metallic silver, their heads adorned with swirling designs. The quiver in which the arrows were contained was covered in silver silk.
Aurora, after fully taking in the beauty of the weapons before her, turned her eyes, now their usual stagnate, dull gray, to Malachite questioningly. He merely looked at her, his eyes reflecting infinite sadness and defeat. At first, Aurora thought he might not respond to her unspoken question, and was about to voice it verbally when Malachite took the initiative to answer her. "These weapons are a gift, granted to you by the powers of Pluto for having defeated me, a True Warrior. They stand as evidence that the Gods and Goddesses of Pluto see you as a formidable Warrior, and that from now until eternity, you will be under the protection of the Powers of Pluto. The secrets to releasing the powers this bow, and these arrows, will be revealed to you over time," he spoke - his voice emotionless. Aurora merely looked back at him in return, then looked to the bow hovering before her. She remained silent as she wrapped her hand about the bow's center. Held firmly in her hands the bow was released from the powers, which held it a lot in the air, allowing the bow's full weight to pull down slightly on Aurora's hand. And with a shimmering of light, the quiver of arrows took its proper place a bout Aurora, the quiver's supportive strap wrapping around her, from her right shoulder diagonally to the left side of her waist, and around again to the back of her right shoulder.
Feeling the full weight of her new weapons supported by her own strength, Aurora resumed her departure from the clearing without a word spoken to Malachite. He was left standing within the clearing helpless to do anything, save than to watch her leave. With the moment of her departure, for Malachite, came a moment of sickening finality – the training of Aurora, Sailor Star, Guardian to the Queen of the Sun, had come to an end; and so had everything that had once been between them.
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