This fic will attempt to fill the gap between seasons one and two of Rayearth and explain what happened in Cephiro at this time. Contains spoilers for the end of season one and the beginning of season two (volumes three and four of the manga). I follow the manga continuity.

Thank you to Christine and Alena, my beta-readers.

Enjoy. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Clef had no need to watch the legendary battle through the miniature likeness of Cephiro he could create at will. He could Feel every spell with his mage-senses. But he felt compelled to do so, as if to be there for his students, in some odd way, during the battle which would surely take their lives.

His heart wrenched at the myriad of emotions Zagato harbored, then used to fuel his attacks against the Magic Knights. They faltered, and for a moment, cold fear clenched a fist around his heart. The Magic Knights must not fail! If they...if they did, it would mean the end of Cephiro, for Zagato's anger was great.

But wait! He leaned closer to the image. The Knights were getting back up!

He could feel them drawing strength. Such great power- such strong hearts. They released it all at once, in a combined attack, a blinding flash of light. Though he was miles away, Clef felt the heat through his robes and the roaring of power in his ears.

And then, nothing. Deafening silence.

Sol Zagato was no more.

Clef bowed his head in silent grief. *I'm sorry, Zagato. I've failed you.* he apologized. Yet the battle was far from over. The Magic Knights still had to face their true enemy. He had no need to imagine Emeraude's emotions; he felt them as keenly as if they were his own. Sadness, emptiness, a great void. And then, rage. Pure, all-consuming, mindless rage. Her power skyrocketed, and he saw the birth of another Spirit.

The already dark skies exploded into storming thunder and lightening. Winds rose and howled and snapped branches from trees. Clef stood, oblivious to the weather. He was only concerned with the battle. It seemed to last forever, with the Magic Knights giving ground every minute of it.

Something flickered. A tiny spark of love ignited in the well of darkness and hate that was now Emeraude of Cephiro. The Magic Knights grew stronger, and in a brilliant display of power, the three became one.

He looked up. They were directly above him, just beyond the great, dark mirror-bowl of the sky. A great, piercing power, and the wind suddenly stopped. Then, there was a great explosion of light that engulfed the world with its blaze, and with it a silence so great it hurt to listen to. It lasted for the longest moment in history, then shrunk to a pinprick.

*Guru Clef,* Emeraude called in his head, and Clef gasped. *Please...tell them...tell the Magic Knights...I'm sorry...and...thank you.* The voice faded, and the light vanished.

"PRINCESS EMERAUDE!" Someone screamed, and only when it died down did Clef realize it had been his own voice. His gaze was fixed on the sky, and a giant crack appeared in it with a rolling sound like thunder. Then more, and finally, the sky splintered like a broken mirror with a resounding crack that reverberated through his mind so that his very bones seemed to vibrate. Billions of sparkling shards rained down on Cephiro.

Princess Emeraude, Pillar of Cephiro, was dead.

Beneath his feet, Cephiro reeled and shuddered violently with the shock of its Pillar's death. All the color seemed to wash out of the land. The grass withered and died before his eyes, and once-green leaves crumpled and turned to dust. The quaking grew, and Clef crouched down to avoid being knocked off his feet. Dirty-gray trees toppled over, some disintegrating into ash, and still others bursting into flame. One fell and was inches away from crushing him when the mage stretched out a small hand and stopped it. It hung there suspended in mid-air for a few seconds before he let it fall somewhat to his left. After it crashed to the ground, it grew eerily quiet except for the crackling of flames and the distant sound of thunder from the void beyond Cephiro.

There was no time. Bereft of a Pillar, Cephiro lacked the thread that held it together and would fall apart like a poorly sewn garment. And it had already begun. Without a Pillar, all was lost. And the people, the inhabitants of this world were largely ignorant of the situation, only knowing that something terrible had happened. Soon, the land itself would start to crumble away, and quickly at that. The people needed someplace where they could be safe. Or at least as safe as one could be in a dying land.

But that problem would have to wait. There was something Clef wanted to do first, before anything else happened, and he had very limited time. He lifted the point of his staff from the ground and whispered a spell. There was the familiar sensation of air whooshing past him, and when it passed he opened his eyes and beheld the great spires of the castle in the sky, a wounded shadow of its former glory.

It no longer shone with the same radiance; the crystal seemed clouded. Entire sections had been blown away to nothingness by the battle, and signs of the struggle were everywhere. Black scorch marks framed areas where the crystal had melted like wax from the intense heat of the Fire Knight's magic. Wind and water spells had carved deep grooves in the towering walls, and Zagato's dark magic had ripped off several wings, leaving nothing but jagged splinters behind, and still more of the great structure was cracked and looked ready to topple.

He walked slowly along the outside of the broken castle, brushing a hand against the walls; his fingers left pale streaks on the dust-coated structure. Lightning cracked in the dark sky above his head. Something near his feet caught his eye.

Kneeling, the Master Mage set aside his staff to pick up the black, heavy object in both hands. It was Zagato's headdress, or what was left of it. The great stone in the center was cracked, and much of it had melted away.

He knew that if he closed his eyes, he could picture the first time his pupil wore it, the day he became High Priest of Cephiro. The first time he locked eyes with Emeraude.

The day Fate was sealed.

Lightning lit up the sky and thunder rolled again.

Clef banished the memories, placing what was left of the headdress within his robes, and stood up, walking determinedly toward the giant, Mashin- sized hole in the castle, the path to which was littered with rubble and had deep gouges left by the giant Spirits. It led to the water dungeon, made almost completely unrecognizable by battle. Chunks of castle wall and roof larger than he was lay strewn about. Water, no longer contained by solid rock, flowed freely, pooling in the deeper craters. The whole placed reeked of burning and the air still crackled with Magic.

A once-splendid tiara set with emeralds lay on the ruined floor, looking forlorn. It was largely intact, with only a few of the smaller stones broken and was beginning to dull under the fine layer of dust that hovered in the air, the only thing in the whole dungeon that wasn't debris. Clef supposed it was still beautiful, in a way, but he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that it was the same tiara that crowned the Pillar. He scrubbed furiously at the gems, rubbing away the grime and making the marred surface shine again.

But it wasn't the same.

It was broken, like Emeraude had been, like Cephiro was now.

Pent-up emotions welled to the surface for release. Clef clamped his eyes shut and set his jaw, silencing them. There was no time for such trivial things. There was a dying country below him filled with people who were powerless against the death-throes of the land.

No! Cephiro was not dead yet! He had no right to give up! People depended on him; he had his duty to them, to Cephiro.

To Emeraude.

The other mages would be waiting. Even now, he could sense them gathering.

His place was in Cephiro among its people, not standing among the shattered ruins of a crystal castle in the sky.

Said castle seemed to agree, for at that moment it started to pitch and roll. Clef reached out and steadied himself against the wall, tucking the broken tiara inside his robes with his free hand. Without the Pillar's support, the magnificent floating structure would soon cease to be.

The tiny mage waited for a lull in the shaking and retraced his steps to the exterior. Something black caught his eye, jutting sharply out of the crystal.

Zagato's sword.

Clef walked to it and grasped the hilt with both hands, straining against the suction grip that held it. It slipped free suddenly, throwing him backwards, scraping against the ground. The sword was a glorious piece of artisanship, as tall as he was and forged of a hard, obsidian-black metal honed to razor-sharpness.

The stains of the Magic Knights' blood stood testimony to that.

He closed his eyes, and the sword vanished into the jewel on his staff. As he did so, the castle shook even more violently than before and the topmost spire broke off and toppled toward the ground far below in a shower of glittering splinters.

"Lightning!" Clef cried, obliterating it mid-fall, lest it cause anymore unnecessary damage to Cephiro or its inhabitants. He had dawdled in foolish whims long enough. It was time to go back.

The mages were congregating together in a meeting place selected innumerable generations ago for use in dire circumstances. They numbered so few now.

Clef would need to be there, to lead them. He took a deep breath and the giant, intricately carved staff glowed with power as he focused on the location of the gathered mages, then vanished with a whispered spell.

To be continued.

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