I must admit ... I wrote the last three chapters very late at night (on separate nights, thank god), and they all suffer from "writer's block syndrome" and (well, the last one) "lack of inspiration for a decent fight scene". Okay, so you will get a fight scene later on, but it's not the best (points to Digimon fic again). Also, this scene has not happened in previous drafts, so it's quite ... awkward. Oh well, here goes....

ザリエンデイジャーの相続人
Log 6: Xariandagia's Heir

I overdid myself. I killed a dragon-general and healed a girl while I was still newly awakened.
　 "You did the right thing, ôji-sama. You defended your charges."
　 Charges...?
　 "Those that you were meant to defend. The uminchu Jason and the Sultana Kathryn."
　 Jason ... the one who awoke me.... What of Kathryn?
　 "She will free you - free us - from life. From immortality.
　 How?
　 "You will love her. An angel who loves is too human for this existance."
　 So is love ... emotion ... forbidden....? To me?
　 "Yes ... love is forbidden to us, Keythedrian ôji-sama. More so to you."
　 Wait ... you know my name. What is yours?
　 "You named me the Angelic Regent--"

"Sultana ... he has come to."
　 A wizened soldier, clad in the white uniform of the Sálíphirá guard, brought the news to Kathryn. They were in the parlor in the foreward section of Kathryn's suite; the sultana was seated on a lounge, tending to a sword on her lap.
　 "Thank you, General Derrik." She stood up, placing the blade in its nightstone scabbard strapped to her waist. "I will see to him."
　 She entered the rear chambers of her suite, finding the guest antechamber where the angel had laid in state for two days. Arraying her scarlet robes and flaming hair, Kathryn pushed open the curtain that blocked off the room.
　 The angel had left the lounge in relative neatness, with pillows arranged in a mound, and bed coverings folded at the lounge's foot. He stood by the lounge, facing the doorway. An open window blew his brazen hair across his well-built body, hiding his nakedness. Three pairs of ivory pinions framed his body, feathers ruffling in the sultry air. The silver quarterstaff was held in his hands - he was using it for support.
　 "I was expecting you, Kathryn," he said simply, a faint smile on his lips. "Your hand is doing better, I believe."
　 "Yes ... it is, Excellency." She did not know how to address the angel. "Thank you."
　 The angel only nodded. His eyes wandered to the sword strapped to the girl's waist. "May I see that? The sword?"
　 Kathryn removed the sword from the scabbard. It was an intricate blade, the handle made of embossed leather with a winding salamander denoting the grip. The crosspiece boasted a diamond-shaped ruby; the hilt was gilded as though of flame. The blade, over two feet long, was engraved with patterns of dancing bonfires.
　 The angel took the blade in his hand, and at once fire spiraled about its twin cutting edges. The staff in his other hand glowed in the sword's lurid color.
　 "Xariandagia," the angel breathed; "the Star of the Desert - the blade of fire. I remember it. One of my regents brought it to Sálíphirá...."
　 "Yes," Kathryn gasped. "I am the sultana."
　 "So you are its heir." He handed the sword to Kathryn; the flames receded.
　 "Then who are you?" Kathryn queried, shoving Xariandagia into its scabbard.
　 "I am Keythedrian, whom the angels call Prince of the Eagles. I am to be your guardian."