Reclaim Destiny
-A tribute to the fallen Dragon Slayers and their lord Dilandau-
By: SoulStealer
Disclaimer: I don't own Esca.
WARNING: this story was written during a major writers so some of the things in this might be a little off. Also, the OC in this thing maybe a Mary Sue-ish to some, I don't find her really that bad but it's not my best work.
A/N: Just to let you know, this is not a romance. I wrote this a while back when I was pissed off about the Dragon Slayers all-getting killed.
Well, here's the story… hope you enjoy it.
(BTW, it's pre-typed so it will be finished.)
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Chapter One
"The Prisoner"
Miguel Labariel glared at the cold stones below him. He'd been captured. He was a failure to the Dragon Slayers, stuck here in the murky dungeons of Freid. What was this place known for again? (He should have paid more attention in class last year.) But… Plactu, wasn't it? A monk that could hypnotize anyone, causing them to spill any guarded secrets. Yes, that was it.
He was better off dead.
He deserved to die.
Raising his head he surveyed his gloomy surroundings. There were scratches on the walls and some uncomfortable bedding in a corner. Groaning he closed his eyes.
"Damn that bitch," he sighed. "Damn all of them!"
There was a short chuckle from another corner of the dungeon. "Lady troubles?" someone asked.
Miguel turned toward the source but the shadows blocked the speaker's figure. "Show yourself," He called in annoyance. "I'd like to see who I'm speaking with."
"That's what most of them say…" The voice continued. Slowly Miguel could make out a human shape in the darkness. "But then they usually don't want to talk to me afterward… If they survive Plactu, that is." The last phrase was said icily sending a streak of panic down Miguel's spine.
Miguel could see a figure. A feminine figure at that. She had long hair that trailed down her shoulders and fell a little below her waist; its color was dark and undistinguishable. He couldn't see her eyes either but they were dark also. Her face was olive shaped with a sickly pale, pasty look to it making her look ill. She wasn't scrawny, but she wasn't large. She wore some kind of baggy clothing, which he'd never seen before, hung of her. She looked like a foreigner.
He couldn't help but look surprised. He had, after all, been expecting a boy since the voice was ruff, as if she had a soar throat. At his look she smirked, her lips pressing in a thin white line.
"No what you expected, huh?" It wasn't said dejectedly, just mildly amused. "That's what I've gotten for the past thee years."
"Three years?"
She rolled her eyes. "You think they'd let someone responsible for Marlene's death out."
"Wait?" Miguel asked out of curiosity. "You… the Lady Marlene's death?"
She had begun to sink back to her shadows, but a she faded she gave only last reply. "A 'cursed one' wished ill of her…" A short moment of silence followed, then... "The echoes! Someone comes…"
She was correct.
Guards came. They moved him to another room, for the interrogation most likely.
Time passed, Miguel could hear someone—no two—walking toward the room. Slowly the pair came into view. He could make out the one some guards had called "Boris" in the dwindling lights. The second one he had never seen.
"Sir Boris, I want you to leave us alone." The second one said sending Miguel deeper into dread.
Boris had begun to contradict but stopped in mid sentence. Slowly, the second man, a monk after closer inspection, stepped toward the prisoner. Was this Plactu?
"You're Miguel, aren't you?"
Relief began to spread thought the youth's body. "How did you know my name?" Miguel asked. "You're on an errand for Folken, aren't you?"
"Yes, now tell. How have you come to this situation?" The monk asked. "You are among the elite, are you not?"
Miguel felt anger bubble up. "It's hall her fault!" He clenched his fists. "That girl! The one with the damned Dragon! She's some kind of… something! I don't know how she did it!"
"The mysterious girl?"
Miguel sighed. "Yes. She clearly pointed at my Guymelef, which was supposedly invisible."
"I see," the monk said. A strange, eerie smile crept across his face. "I'll deal with that matter."
He turned and Miguel felt his hoped fade. Had Folken only sent this errand to gather information?
"Free me first!"
"No," returned the other. "You have another job to do."
A slow sensation came over Miguel. He couldn't describe it, only a controlling. He saw the monk, Plactu, leave the room but it didn't register to him.
Soon more people had come. Even the Prince Chid.
Then Plactu was there. "He's already under hypnosis. Please, ask your questions," the monk said.
Boris was next, "Then, soldier of Zaibach," he said gruffly, "what is your name?"
Miguel had planed on telling him anyway but the words spilled out without his consent. "Miguel... Miguel Labariel."
Boris continued, "What were you doing on the border?"
"I was hunting a traitor, at Asturia's request." This wasn't entirely true but I wasn't a lie either…
"Traitor... who is it?"
Miguel let the words fall from his mouth. He no longer had control, Plactu did. "He conspired with the King of Fanelia to betray the country... ...Allen Schezar."
The Prince looked up in surprise. "A... Allen did...?"
"It… it can't be... Don't lie to us!" Boris said in anger, standing up.
"I'm not lying." That was true… Plactu was.
This continued for a while until the Prince was angered. Apparently the little tyke had a liking toward the blonde knight. Sad thought, Miguel thought, if the rumors were true…
Suddenly he was snapped from his trance-like state. Plactu was hovering above him. "Now," the monk lent forward to untie him. "Escape while you can. You're Guymelef is in the hangar. Go!"
Miguel nodded but stopped when he saw the keys to the cells in Plactu's hands. "May I have those?" he asked quickly, there was one more thing he had to do before he came to the hanger.
The monk nodded before tossing the keys to the Dragon Slayer, sealing his own doom.
