Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except Ayseth, the Nya'torians and my imagination.

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Chapter 8: Intervention

The young girl leaned casually against the railing, her chin propped up in her hands. She tilted her head slightly to one side, smiling softly as a gentle breeze pushed short blond curls into her face. Pale eyelids slowly closed over sparkling blue orbs, and she tilted her head toward the gentle sunlight, relishing in the feel of the warmth on her skin.

The clicking of boots on the stone tiles interrupted her reverie, and she glanced over her shoulder. Standing in the doorway to the balcony was a tall young man with long blond hair, and eyes that matched her own. A soft, gentle smile floated over the man's features as he approached his younger sister, his sword clinking at his side.

"Celena," Allen Schezar's voice rumbled softly in his chest as he spoke. "We're taking a trip on the Crusade to Fanelia, to visit King Van. Do you wish to come along?"

The smile that lit up Celena Schezar's face was even brighter than the noon sun. "Do you think Lady Hitomi would be there?" she asked brightly. "You said you saw the blue pillar of light a few days ago, and it has not appeared again. That means she's still on Gaia, does it not?"

Allen smiled. "Of course." And if there's one place Hitomi would be right now, it's Fanelia, he added to himself. "You would really like to see her, wouldn't you?"

Celena nodded enthusiastically and hurried past her brother through the door. A grin lit up Allen's face as he gazed after her; she was the same now as she had been ten years ago, even though she had been through such a drastic change. But it was as though nothing had happened to her in ten years; it was as though Dilandau Albatou had never existed in the first place.

Dilandau… Allen frowned to think of the name. The albino, along with the entire empire of Zaibach, had caused all of Gaea to weep. He shook his head and put memories of the Destiny War into the back of his mind. This was not the time to think about such things.

~*~

Zychlesk made his way through the crowd of black-clad figures wandering the corridors of the giant airship. Only a few bothered to move out of his way as he passed by; the rest he was forced to shove aside ruthlessly, growling menacingly when they glared at him. He halted when he reached a large brass door, with intricate patterns carved into it and inlaid with precious gemstones.

He inhaled deeply and slowly pushed up one heavy sleeve of his black robe, revealing a knobby hand covered in thick orange fur. The tip of each finger was stained the color of dry blood, and his claws were hideously long and painted gold. Grasping the heavy brass door knocker in his white palms, he let it fall three times on the thin brass plate beneath it; the sound echoed throughout the long corridor, and a few workers paused in their noisy work to stare at him.

The door creaked open slowly, with a loud screech that shot through him like a bolt of lightning. Zychlesk peered past the brightly polished brass and saw only darkness. A low rumbled emitted from within: "Come in." With a bow, Zychlesk obliged; the door slammed shut behind him, sending forth a rush of wind that lifted the hem of his heavy robe.

Bright red lights flicked on, momentarily blinding the young general. Swallowing hard around a sudden lump of nervousness in his throat, Zychlesk sank to his knees, his furry, knobby hands in front of him. He heard footsteps approach him, but dared not look up. Only when he felt claws scrape his backside, digging through the fabric of his robe and into his skin like knives, did he look up. Hovering above him was the familiar violet-clad figure of the Kalryn's Devil, the silver and blood-colored staff clutched tightly in hands hidden in his robes.

"You may remove your hood, Zychlesk," the Kalryn's Devil addressed him, tapping his hidden forehead with the sharp tip of the staff. Zychlesk obeyed, and peeled away the sweat-soaked hood, his claws ripping through the fabric. Large pointed ears, with short black tufts dotted with sparkling gold paint, sprang forward, free of the heavy hood that had kept them pinned to his head. Black-spotted golden-brown fur, streaked with blue and purple stripes and intricate designs painted in gold, stuck out at odd angles; and he ran his hand over his face to smooth the thick, wrinkled whiskers and face fur. Sharp, piercing purple eyes stared at the feet hidden by violet robes.

"Give your report, and then I have something to show you," the deep voice rumbled from within the folds of amethyst.

"My lord, we are approaching the borders of a country known as Asturia, homeland of many of the figures who aided our oewt id kicr," he announced, then waited for a signal to continue.

"And who are these figures?" the Devil prodded him, his voice firm.

"Princess Millerna Sara Aston, heir to the throne of Asturia; her sister, Princess Aria Eries; Knight Caeli Allen Crusade Schezar, and his sister, Celena, who was the victim of the work of the sorcerers of Zaibach; Lord Dryden Fassa, former husband to Princess Millerna; and the members of the ship known as the Crusade, which is the ship of the knight," Zychlesk recited.

The Devil stared down at him, and although Zychlesk could not see his face, he had the feeling the the Devil was grinning broadly. "So we have come to so many allies of our aewt id kicr," he murmured, more to himself than to his lackey. "That is good. You have pleased me with this news, Zychlesk; that is good for you. Now come, my son. There is something I have meant to show you for quite some time now, but have delayed it for reasons of my own." He tapped Zychlesk's backside again, and the younger figure rose obediently. Although he was surprised as being addressed as his master's son, he did not show his shock; it would not have been acceptable.

The Devil padded softly across the marble floor, looking as though he were floating across the floor rather than walking. Zychlesk followed him loyally, his head bent in respect, his eyes pasted to the black swirling patterns on the marble. He paused only when he felt the Devil's footsteps cease, and looked up just enough to see the hem of the Devil's robes.

"You may raise your eyes, my son," the Devil stated, his voice clear. "Otherwise you will not see what I mean to show you." The younger figure obliged.

Slowly, the Devil turned around and lifted the sleeves of his violet robes. Underneath were thick, muscled arms covered in thick, wiry sandy fur. The underside of his paws were white streaked with blood-red designs, and his claws were so long that they curled under; they shimmered with gold and silver paint. The strong arms lifted, and with his hands he pushed back his hood. His enormous ears, topped with thick, wiry black tufts that were streaked with silver and gold paint, slowly rotated in their sockets, before perking forward. His face was sand-colored, with silver and gold markings painted around his eyes. His whiskers, painted gold, were not tangled but stuck straight out on either side of his face like thin arrows. He eyed his inferior with enormous amber orbs that glistened silver; the blood-red light cast a red glow over his orbs.

Zychlesk beheld him with wonder and a soaring feeling of superiority. Then suddenly he was overcome with dread. No one who gazed upon the Kalryn's Devil's face ever lived to tell of it. But Zychlesk refused to show his fear, lest it quicken his death.

His eyes never leaving his inferior's face, the Devil slowly pulled away the folds of his robes, his claws shredding the delicate fabric. Zychlesk watched as his master slowly divested himself of his robes, until he standing in the red-lit corridor clad in only a thin, knee-length silver skirt. His firm, muscled chest and enormous arms were decorated with dozens of hideous gashes and colorful bruises that matted and stained his sandy fur. His legs were covered in thin metal plates carved with intricate swirls and patterns and dotted with diamonds that captured an eerily bloody sparkle in the light. Zychlesk could not help but wonder how the Devil kept this metal plates from making even the tiniest of noises when he moved, until he realized that the plates were molted to his master's legs; if anything, these were his legs. His feet were also covered in metal plates, and the metal claws that poked out of the end of his toes were painted black.

Zychlesk immediately felt as though his life were being ripped into shreds right before his eyes. No matter that no one who had set eyes on the face of the Devil lived to tell of it; he doubted that anyone had ever seen what was hidden beneath those folds of violet, dead or alive. He swallowed around the lump of fear in his throat and tried to suppress his shivering; thus the only sign of his fear was the beads of sweat that soaked his fur.

The Kalryn's Devil grinned, baring sharp white teeth framed by gold-plated canines. The grin faded as soon as it had appeared, leaving Zychlesk to wonder if his master had ever grinned at all.

"I have lived decades with this body." The Devil's voice sounded deeper when one was not hearing it resonating from within the folds of his hood. "Since the time of King Ruakan, I have lived with this mutilated body. But I have not been defeated…no one thus far has been capable of defeating me. They have damaged my body beyond repair, but do you see me limp? Do you see me waver? Do you see me fail?" The Devil's voice darkened.

"There was a time when I was handsome, even without the designs of our warriors. There was a time when my body was unblemished, when females swooned before me. But that time of happiness vanished decades ago…too long ago for you to imagine." He looked away briefly, before his gaze snapped back to Zychlesk. "This is what I wanted to show you. You may not understand it now, but you will in due time. You are dismissed." With that, he picked up his staff in one hand, gathered the shredded remains of his robe in the other, and walked away. There was a tiny click, and the lights flickered off, leaving Zychlesk in total darkness.

~*~

Adibah stared at her crystal ball intently, her wrinkled eyes narrowed. Within the cloudy depths of the shimmering sphere, she could see the giant bluish-white sphere that was Earth, surrounded by billions of twinkling stars in a sea of midnight blue. The image in the ball suddenly swerved downward, like a surveillance camera following a group of trespassers, to the mountainside below. The moonbeams bounced off the treetops like shards of glass.

The image continued passing over the mountainside until it came to a small clearing, surrounded by the tall black shadows of trees and the bulky gray shadows of rocks. Adibah leaned forward, and the "camera" dived downward, coming to an adrupt halt a few yards from the ground. Adibah twitched her fingers, and the image in the ball moved toward the top of the hill, where two figures lay side-by-side. One sported a pair of brilliant wings; the moonlight bounced off the crystal-white surface of the feathers. A tiny smile played on the old cat-woman's lips.

The image moved away from the sleeping couple toward one of the larger boulders near the bottom of the hill. Two figures were propped up against the rough, bumpy surface of the stone, their heads bent forward in sleep. Both had weapons placed conveniently in their laps, and one rested with a sword propped up against a shoulder.

Adibah frowned slightly as she came upon a fifth, unrecognizable figure. It was stretched out on the grass; the white light of the moon bounced off bouncy curls and striped fur. Adibah blinked before recognition dawned, and she moved on. A black shadow in the grass, in the crevice between two boulders, caught her attention, and the "camera" swerved toward it. Moving closer, Adibah caught sight of dull glistens from knife blades, and nodded her approval.

The seventh figure was sprawled over the round surface of a rock, every part of its body as limp as a rag. Its stomach was presented to the sky, and cords dangled limply from its hands. Adibah nodded again and continued her search for the final figure. She found it halfway up the hill, curled underneath the shadow of another giant stone. Its wings were folded around it, hiding it from view.

Adibah leaned back, and the "camera" shot upward toward the sky, focusing once again on the Earth. Adibah looked up at the dark ceiling and closed her eyes. So they are safe, and, even better, have already come to terms with the Royal Dragon and the Mystic Daughter. That is good…very good.

Soft footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and she looked toward the door. A few seconds later, it opened slightly and Queen Alakana poked her head into the room. Adibah smiled and nodded, and the queen stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. The white light of the crystal ball, the only source of light in the room, reflected off the hundreds of tiny beads sewn into the queen's gown, giving her a majestic, mystical appearance.

"How is it coming?" Alakana asked, her eyes clouded with worry.

"Do you wish to see, Your Majesety?" Adibah replied, her hands folded behind her back. The queen approached the crystal ball and peered into its cloudy depths with narrow amber eyes. After a few moments, she looked up at the soothsayer and frowned.

"You said there were only seven, but I count eight," she said accusingly. "Who is the remaining one?"

Adibah gazed at the ball, a wavering smile on her face. "Apparently a childhood friend of the Royal Dragon's," was her soft reply. "She is a cat-girl, from Gaea—Earth does not have 'beast-people,' as Gaeans call them. Do not worry; she will not bring any harm to the quest. If anything, she will help."

"But she is not one of the Seven," the queen persisted stubbornly. "How does that do any good?"

"I informed Your Majesty that the Seven would be the ones to bring upon the downfall of the Devil and send him to hell; I did not say they would do it alone."

~*~

Allen's gloved hand slammed down on the map of Gaea lying on his desk, and he shot out of his chair instantly, his blue eyes flashing, his brows knitted together firmly. His sharp gaze was on Gaddes, who was standing in the doorway, his bushy eyebrows pulled together, a deep frown on his face. He leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his dust-covered pants.

"I had the same reaction, sir," Gaddes said, his deep voice traced with annoyance. "But it ain't no joke: His Majesty, Lady Hitomi, and even that cat-girl, all left Fanelia yesterday afternoon. And they weren't alone: five mysterious folk accompanied 'em. They headed in the direction of the mountaintops." He pointed out the window toward the jagged peaks that stretched for miles before them. "The only thing the king told Ayseth was that planets were in danger and he was following his destiny." Gaddes frowned. "Ain't like the king to use that kind of speech, eh, sir? Ayseth said he didn't look himself either; he looked possessed."

Allen's pale brows pulled together until they looked as though they had been sewn together with invisible thread. He tapped his chin with one long, slender finger, lost in thought. "And what of these strangers?" he said finally, his eyes unfocused. "When did they appear, and where are they from?"

Gaddes shook his head. "They were found roaming the outskirts of the kingdom a few days ago, and they were captured—without a fight, surprisingly—and brought before the king when they refused to speak to anyone but His Majesty and Lady Hitomi. As to their origin…" He frowned. "Not one member of the palace household could place their accent—clearly they are not from Gaea, and nor are they from the Mystic Moon—they have no beast-folk there, says the lady."

"Are you sure they are not from a remote, tiny country?" Allen pressed. How could they not be from Gaea?

Gaddes cocked an eyebrow. "Tell me, sir, when's the last time you've seen a beast-folk that looks like a cross between a giant lizard and a furless cat? Or when's the last time you've seen a beast-folk that looks like a cross between a ghost and three different species of bird?" Allen's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the brown-haired man pursed his lips. "Two members of the party of strangers looked like that, according to Ayseth, and unless there's been a development of new beast-folk in some remote, middle-of-nowhere part of the world, these folk ain't from Gaea."

Allen pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes still unfocused. "So they are not from Gaea, and they are not from the Mystic Moon. Then where are they from?" he wondered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"I don't like the sound of this, sir," Gaddes said, folding his arms across his chest. "Five strangers turn up out of nowhere, and the king starts speaking as if he's possessed? Something is amiss…could be another war…"

Allen rose to his feet suddenly. "I would like to speak to Ayseth myself. Tell the others that we may not be staying here long. I'm not apt to linger here if there's danger amiss. I'll need to report it back home immediately."

Gaddes moved out of the way to allow the knight passage. Allen strode down the corridor, nodding his head absently to passing crewmembers. He noticed one of the doors in one of the halls was open slightly: Celena's door. He stood by it for a few moments before pushing it open. His sister stood at the window, her eyes on the blue-roofed royal palace of Fanelia. She looked over her shoulder and smiled brightly at her brother as he entered. Half of Allen's somber mood vanished at the sight of Celena's bright face, and he smiled warmly.

"I'm sorry, but we may not be staying here very long," he said apologetically, moving to stand beside her. "It seems Van and Hitomi, and even Merle, left Fanelia yesterday, with some strangers whose homeland remains a mystery."

For a brief moment, Celena's eyes were the color of blood. A chill shot up Allen's spine. That shade of blood-red was the color of Dilandau Albatou's eyes. She can't be turning back into him, can she? he wondered, clenching his fists. But seconds later her eyes were their normal clear, sparkling blue, and Allen wondered if he had dreamt it all.

"Could there be a war, brother?" Celena said, her tone shockingly impassive. Allen felt a surge of fear through his veins, but tried his best not to show it.

"That's what I'm going to find out," Allen said. "But don't be disappointed if you don't get the chance to see the inside of the palace now," he added. He ruffled her hair and then left the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was out of earshot, he broke into a run, his thoughts jumbled like the missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Half an hour later found Allen sitting in a windowless conference room in the back of the palace, with Ayseth sitting right in front of him. The captain of the royal guard had shed his armor and was now wearing a simple shirt and pants. Add to that his round, boyish features, and he hardly looked a captain of anything, let alone the most important division of the king's army.

Allen leaned back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other, his arms folded across his chest. "So you know nothing of the origins of these strangers," he said, his voice hinting no emotion. "You know only that their accent is unrecognizable, and that two of them did not resemble anything you have ever seen or heard of in your life."

Ayseth leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. Storm-gray eyes locked with sapphire. "In truth, the only one that spoke was the black cat-girl, Kirra, whom I assumed was their leader. But I assumed they were from the same country, for they all wore similar dress. We did not learn any of the others' names; none of them would speak, even when we demanded they do so."

"Do you think it is perhaps safe to follow them?" Allen asked curiously.

Ayseth's face clouded over. "Sir, if it were not for the fact that I have strict orders to remain here at the palace in the absence of the king, I would be following him myself," was the determined reply.

"Good," Allen said, "because I intend to follow him, whether he likes it or not."

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To Be Continued…

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Geez, I had no idea that all the bits with Van and Hitomi would be so popular. Almost everyone has mentioned them in their reviews! And thank you to everyone who was concerned about my writer's block. Yes, it is lifting, although sometimes it returns for a period of time. (But when it is not present, I write quite a bit!)

I have decided that, to avoid clogging up space in each chapter, I will not reply to every single review unless there is something in your review that has triggered a reply (such as, an error of mine that you point out, a question you have for me, etc.). I have seen what happens when authors reply to all of their reviews—it is a mess and sometimes takes up half the chapter, and I do not want that to happen here. So do not take offense if I do not reply to your review. It does not mean that I do not appreciate your time and effort. Of course I do! I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read and review my story; and if you read but do not review, I still appreciate it.

Wink57CS: Thank you very much for pointing out my repitition; I had not even noticed it before you mentioned it, and now I am being extremely cautious with my choice of words. Thank you so much! (Maybe I should crack open that old theasaurus of mine….)