(A/N: Okay, for those who haven't read it, Ravendor is quoting a fraction of a long poem written by John Milton entitled 'Paradise Lost', about the Fall, and the original sin. Similarly, he also mentions Dante from 'Dante's Inferno - La Divina Commedia', written by Dante Alighieri.)
Clive walked uncaringly through the fog of unnatural shadow, the manner of his stride suggested a particular intent or destination, despite knowledge that Clive had none, save for the intent of spilling Ravendor's blood. He knew that he could be attacked at any moment and there was a slight tension to his walk, a kind of springy energy that came from the last dregs of adrenaline left running through his bloodstream. The darkness felt cold on his skin and seemed to sink into his soul, only endured because his body was already existing at those temperatures in the first place.
He talked to the veil of shade in the hopes that Ravendor could also hear him, trying to sound untroubled and carefree. His breath was short because of his previous injuries, and his palms itched horribly, distractions that he did not show to the outside world. Clive smirked in a gratified manner and stopped walking, closing his eyes. "Hey Ravendor, I was just wondering if you remember the verse from Milton's 'Paradise Lost' that you always seemed to quote. Do you? You know, it does remind me of right now, this moment in time. How did it go again…?"
"For who would lose… Though full of pain… This intellectual being… The thoughts that wander throughout eternity... To perish rather, swallowed up and lost… In the deep dark womb of uncreative night." Taking the bait, Ravendor stepped out of the shadows, arms by his sides and his wings half-folded. He sighed and then shrugged. "I may have misquoted, it has been far too long since I last tried to recall that verse. I am surprised that you can remember such things at all, though it will not help you one bit where you are going. Follow Dante's example and take a guided tour of Hell. I will send you there myself."
The metal demon narrowed his eyes. "Not if I send you there first." He said, drawing his sword. Ravendor backtracked into the veil of shadow once more and became invisible to Clive's sight, existing just outside the line of vision. Now Clive could not sense the originating source of Ravendor's energy signature in the air, not even with the aid of his mediums. This would be a very difficult battle. Before everything would begin, though, he asked one last question. "Ravendor, where are we? Where have you sent us?"
The reply didn't seem to come from once direction, but from all around him. "We are in the shadow that exists upon the window of a soul. Nothing more. Nothing less." Clive's brow furrowed and he deflected a bolt of dark thunder that was directed at his body without much thought, confused. Little arcs of wayward lightning clung to the metal of his sword with tenacity, fading after contact with Kuronegaiken's spirit. Clive didn't feel anything from this except for a tiny increase in the sword's power. Homing in on the origin of the attack, Clive sprinted the short distance between it and him and slashed horizontally through the artificial night, nearly cutting a hole in the fabric of darkness itself. Refusing to halt the swing of the sword, he brought his arm up and to the left, then down, bisecting the slash in two with a vertical swipe. The effect was like a white cross in midair, which held there for half a second, and then turned blood red.
It didn't seem to have much effect when it faded away, the darkness healing over it like a small scar. Clive leapt a small distance back and waited for any kind of reaction, wondering if he had missed or not. Turning sharply to his right at a noise, picked up by his super-sensitive hearing, Clive heard the sound of a single drop of liquid fall to the ground, making tiny ripples in the velvety material coating the floor. Ravendor emerged from a shadow a short way away, his eyes dull and filled with subdued hatred. His left cheek was deeply gashed open, in the shape of the crosscut technique.
A thin stream of blood trickled down the side of his face from the cut, gashed across the branded runic tattoos and stinging a little. Ravendor wiped the blood away and watched the return journey of Clive's sword back into it's defensive position. There, Clive waited for Ravendor's retaliation. Smiling despite the small injury, the winged demon closed his eyes and caught a fistful of tangible shadow within his claws, fashioning it into a familiar-looking instrument. "Rule of Vengeance!" He shouted, taking the shadow-formed doppelganger of Kuronegaiken and mimicking Clive's last move. However, his handling of the weapon was a skill no greater than that of a novice and Clive parried him into a swordlock, the two weapons clashing upon each other with no mercy.
Clive was being forced down as Ravendor had taken to the offensive and was several shades stronger than he was. Sparks were born as the weapon and it's conjured shadow grated with each other, and the metal demon constantly searched for a good opening for him to overthrow his opponent. Clive yelped in pain as jagged-edged quills raked the side of his sword-arm, drawing blood and causing him to lose his grip. A heartbeat later Clive had deflected the strike of the shadow Kuronegaiken with a hastily put together eliminate scanner, striking Ravendor squarely in the chest.
All the breath was knocked out of his lungs and the effects of Ravendor's rule of vengeance disappeared, the fake sword degrading back into wisps of harmless shadow. As Ravendor hit the ground, his body instantly melded with the darkness and vanished, barely a nanosecond before Clive skewered the place with a deep sword-stab. Coming up empty-handed, he frowned as he pulled the sword out of the floor, warily keeping himself alert for the possibility of a back-attack. "Leehalt's move…" He whispered to himself, "I should have known…" Clive looked at the reflection of himself within Kuronegaiken's blade, his face was smeared with dirt, dust and blood, one of the lenses of his glasses had a visible crack in it, and his hair was wildly messed up from not taking care of himself properly. He looked a horrible fright.
The swordsman caught a bit of movement in the reflection of the blade that was not his and before he knew it a hand was slapped over his and another took a hold of the end of the blade and forced the sword back against Clive's throat, the flat part of the weapon pressing badly against the metal demon's windpipe. Ravendor was standing behind Clive and was holding back an insane kind of laughter, the blood dripping down his face adding to the image of a completely unhinged madman. Clive's free hand flew to his throat but could not alleviate any of the agonizing pressure, choking slightly in his futile endeavors for breath. Ravendor laughed quietly, mixed with a slightly labored breath, and then allowed the blade to bite even deeper into Clive's neck. "Try and squirm and I shall cut your throat. Struggle and you lose your life. Go ahead and try it, give me an excuse to bleed you dry."
"That… is not… going to happen!" Clive answered with a cry, jamming his elbow into Ravendor's stomach. The contact that the winged demon had made was enough to forge a suitable connection between the two auras and so the swordsman invoked the Lust Jaw one more time, calling upon the power of the medium. "Life Drain Esoteric Arcana Absolute!" He chanted while trying to focus his mind into that one focal point, to boost the effectiveness of the spell. Clive ripped his sword-arm out of Ravendor's grasp as the dark-haired man's hands went limp with the energy osmosis and managed to free himself from imminent danger. Ravendor's mind went blank for a precious moment from the arcana and Clive took that one opportunity in hand, running forward, turning around and then leaping for an aerial attack.
Clive sailed over Ravendor's head with a spring-heeled leap, intending on flipping himself over and slashing at his enemy while his back was turned, and then kicking him away and onto the floor. Ravendor foresaw this move and growled softly, cracking his long tail like a deadly bullwhip, whirling around and lashing out before Clive had a chance to strike. He boosted his speed with another accelerator technique and felt the flow of time seem to slow down around him, the adrenaline in his system giving him a burst of power like no other. There was a deep whistling crack, and blood began to flow.
It started out as a barely noticeable pain in his side, like a bee sting, but it took Clive less than a second to guess what it was and slap a hand over the injury, landing unsteadily and letting out a short expulsion of breath. The swordsman staggered back in the nick of time as Ravendor's tail removed itself from the wound and lashed out at Clive's face, drawing a thin scratch across his cheek that leaked a dark-bluish kind of poison. Ravendor followed this up with a sharp left hook and knocked Clive to the ground, kicking him fiercely once he was down.
The poison spread like wildfire through his veins and Clive doubled over, arms around his stomach and dropping his sword, holding back an agonized shriek. This was worse than any other poison he had ever experienced before, which would burn his blood and make it feel like his insides were rotting away, no, Ravendor's poison was like a liquid form of shadow, blotting out everything, making him feel empty and hollow on the inside. There was nothing, only pure darkness flowing alongside his blood, darkness and misery, despair and hopeless anguish. It was unbearable, eating away at his soul.
Clive raised a weak shaking hand to his throat and felt that the strength of his nerves fade rapidly into the multitude of shadow, while inwardly, his immune system and healing factor was working frantically to dispel the impure bodies inhabiting and destroying his system. He groaned as Ravendor kicked the affected area around his side and was forced to roll over onto his stomach, now incapable of moving and totally paralyzed. He felt a numbness within all his limbs and was lightheaded, sick and weak all over. Coughing violently, he spat out a thick fluid that smelt too much like panakeia and infinitely tiny nanomachines, revolted by a disgusting and nauseating taste in his mouth.
The winged demon knelt and took hold of Kuronegaiken's handle, awkwardly shifting the sword a little in his grip. Holding the weapon made him feel a tad uneasy, but he nevertheless raised the sword over Clive's back, calculating the best place for him to strike and pierce Clive's heart in two. The ancient sword shimmered as an inner light shined out of it's blade, rejecting Ravendor's spirit and crying out for the soul of it's original master. He had felt the tender electricity crawl up his arm and cautiously sample his aura, but then hid a small wince when the sword had discarded his value almost violently, like a critic knocking an appalling wine glass away with abhorrence.
A bright light leapt from the weapon and Ravendor was forced to avert his eyes, not falling for the same technique twice. Kuronegaiken dissolved in the great expenditure of energy, melting away like white-hot molten lava. When the light dissipated he looked back, and was sharply slapped in the face. Luceid stood over Clive's body, her crimson-red eyes furious and filled with pent-up emotion. Ravendor cursed and stepped back, holding his stinging cheek and recoiling from the extreme aura that the Guardian Lord emanated in invisible waves.
Luceid is the Guardian of Desire… Clive's mind murmured as the effects of his healing factor began to function as the poison was gradually cleared away, yet still he was unable to move and defend himself. One side of his mind was deliriously happy to see Luceid once more, while the other was fraught with apprehension, aware of the Guardian's special power. Yes, the Guardian of Desire… Those who look upon her true form see the object of their unguarded desire… superimposed over Luceid's shape…Whatever their open heart wishes for… It can drive a weaker… or a damaged man insane…
Spacing her arms out from her body, Luceid stood in a protective stance in front of Clive, buying him time so that his body could recover. She did not speak, and merely let her eyes do all the talking. They spoke a thousand words at once in their appearance, and Clive heard the sound of metal falling to the floor, a small collection of edged feather darts that Ravendor had presumably been holding escaping from the dark-haired man's hands. He stepped back, hardly helping himself from staring. For him, for Ravendor Begucci, it was not Luceid that stood over Clive's body, but Catherine, a younger, nineteen-year-old Catherine, her soft grey eyes narrowed in anger. Finally, she allowed herself to speak, mimicking Catherine's gentle and warm voice perfectly. "Ravendor… Why didn't you come back to me? You promised me that you would return! You told me that you loved me! I waited for you! Tell me why!" She asked, her powerful aura illuminating the area within the darkness.
He was silent for a very long time, debating something within his mind, arguing, or trying to accept the reality that Catherine was really there, standing right in front of him. "Catherine…" He eventually managed to whisper, tentatively stepping towards her but still keeping his distance. "This must be trickery. You are not here, you cannot be here… Not like this..." Ravendor fell to his knees, shaking his head. He looked up at her and managed an ironic smile. "You wish to know why? I wanted to come back, every day I admit that I thought about it, but I could not bring myself to action. Would you welcome back a monster? A demon? I am not good enough anymore. I never was." Gazing back towards the ground, Ravendor dug his claws into the shadows below him and laughed. "…But that does not matter, because you have Clive now, and because this is all just a cheap trick. I will not be fooled by trickery. I will not allow myself to succumb to anything. I feel nothing."
Like one sinking into quicksand willingly, Ravendor was swallowed up by the darkness again and retreated, giving Clive a little more time. Luceid turned around and shifted back into her default form, falling to her knees and rolling Clive back onto his stomach. The swordsman sat up and rubbed at the scratch on his cheek, wiping away some traces of venom, and then glared over to where Ravendor had been only a few seconds ago. "That is a lie." He said to the rippling rings of darkness, remnants of Ravendor's departure. Clive rubbed his neck and then fixed his gaze on Luceid, who smiled briefly before shifting her shape back into the sword Kuronegaiken, falling into his lap, slightly warmer from it's instant re-forging. Clive nodded at the whisper of a thought that sped through his mind and stroked the flat of the blade gently. "Thank you, Luceid. We will speak later. I promise." Smiling, he struggled to his feet, a painful twanging in his nerves reminding him of the dregs of poison still flitting throughout his system.
He decided not to return because he was ashamed of being a demon… Because he thought that Catherine would hate him for who he was… for what he was… He picked a life of loneliness and isolation so she would not have to suffer…Guardians, he is just like me…
Clive turned around in a full circle, scouting out the area that he was now in, still stuck there without any method of departure. His sixth sense told him that he was no longer in a simple waking world, but borderline between reality and some sort of dream. No…Clive bit his lip. Not a dream, more like a memory… somebody else's memory…A dark memory…It was nonetheless similar to his own recent miserable dreams, a lack of anything that could be definable in reality. The swordsman coughed faintly from his recent throat injury and tightened his grip on Kuronegaiken, his mind wandering back to Luceid. He had seen here again, and she had recognized him. Could such a thing be possible?
Luceid's voice interrupted him, cutting through his mind like the song of a siren. Her tone was grave, however, and wary. No longer you walk in the waking world, once more you descend to the world of dreams, the single citadel of memory for the one who wanders there the most. I have walked into the desires and memories of the Dark Angel, and now, you must also walk too… Boomerang…
Three lights burned to life in the darkness, moderately spaced between each other and outlining something faintly tangible in the minimum amount of light streaming from the sources and Kuronegaiken's blade. Like they were ripped from different realities or dimensions, three different paths emerged and were overseen by the lights, standing side-by-side one another. Two were similar to stone-built corridors, one lighter than the other, occupying the left and the right space. In the center, the middle path was made of metal, a chiseled dingy bronzed alloy. It stank of something he had smelled before, in all the buildings previously used by the Council of Seven. Three different paths, which one was he meant take? He was alone in this, so why did the dimension around him show more than one path? Was he meant to choose by himself? Clive addressed the nothingness in front of him with a question, feeling a little foolish. "Where am I supposed… to go?" He asked, his voice echoing ominously.
"Wherever you go, it will not be alone." Answered a voice behind him, causing Clive to tense slightly and look behind him, raising his sword a little. Catherine walked up to him and cocked her head slightly to one side, smiling benignly. The swordsman looked down towards her hands and noticed that they were cut up and bleeding, wounds made in her frantic attempt to free their buried friends. As soon as Catherine saw that Clive had noticed, she hid her hands behind her back. She looked at him resolutely. "In this path, we must walk together. The darkness swallowed me up the same as you, and we have been thrust towards the same goal. I loved Ravendor once, and despite what he has done, I still want to see him freed from this eternal night."
When Clive opened his mouth to answer her, he was cut off by another, smaller, though familiar voice. "I'm scared of the dark," Kaitlyn admitted as she took her father's free hand, having crept up to the both of them from her own path in the darkness, "But it's okay because Uncle Ravendor lives here, so it can't be too scary. He was mean to Daddy, we gotta find him so he can apologize and then we can go home." The little girl smiled an innocent smile that was like a light in the morbid world they all had lived through in the past few days, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I'm not scared, I can't be scared. I'm going to be a drifter someday and find old stuff just like this!" Reaching a hand into the small pocket of her dress, she pulled out the stone specimen of the trilobite that Ravendor had given her the day before, showing it off with pride. "Uncle Ravendor gave it to me, isn't it pretty?"
"Three paths… three walkers into the citadel of memory…" Clive said softly as he stared at the ground. "Catherine, Kaitlyn, I never wanted you to get involved. I have no choice now but to let you get involved. It seems the only option." The metal demon knelt and sheathed his sword, placing both his hands upon Kaitlyn's shoulders. Catherine knelt with him, the three forming a small circle. Clive spoke. "Listen, please. Each of us will take a different path into the darkness. I really do hate to do this to you, Catherine… Kaitlyn… but our paths will be separate. Kaitlyn, you will have to be a big girl and take the path by yourself. This world isn't real, nothing here can hurt you. You will be safe. The only one who can harm you is Ravendor himself, and I do not think-"
Still smiling, Kaitlyn nodded, interrupting her father again. "Don't worry, Daddy. I can do it. I'm not scared."
You may not be scared for yourself, Kaitlyn, but Guardians, I know I am…
Catherine glanced towards her husband and seemed to mentally plead with him to reconsider, but she already knew within her heart that Clive was correct. They all had a different direction that they needed to take. Standing back up, she surveyed the three paths, absentmindedly biting her lip. "Considering Ravendor's memory, I fear what lies in wait for us beyond the darkness. But, if they are only memories, then they cannot hurt us. I don't know what power brought us here, but the power of departure will most likely lie at the end of these paths. Everybody, please be careful." She closed her eyes and faced one of the outer paths, taking a step forward. She seemed reluctant to leave both Clive and Kaitlyn behind. Then, swallowing hard, she disappeared into the left-hand path, her body vanishing the moment she stepped into the illuminated area of the burning lights.
Watching her mother leave, Kaitlyn pulled her hand away from Clive's and stared at the right-hand pathway, tucking her trilobite fossil back into a pocket of her blue dress. Turning back to her father, her face grew serious for one unexpected moment. "Daddy… Uncle Ravendor reminds me of something that I don't really know. I think maybe that I met him once before. If I can find him, maybe he'll tell me where!" She went back to smiling, facing the corridor-like path and running towards it, laughing out her last words to Clive before her own disappearance. "This is my first drifter adventure without anyone helping me! Daddy, watch me fly!"
Clive was left to ponder and look upon the middle pathway, sensing the greatest amount of darkness and ill-intent radiating from there. Habitually, he adjusted his cracked glasses and then rubbed his chin. Coming to a conclusion, he shook his head sadly. "Kaitlyn, he reminds you of somebody you have never met before? Seven years, Kaitlyn's age, to be subtracted from the years since Seraph has died. Seventeen minus seven, leaving ten years, equal to the time from now to the time that Yggdrasil exploded, and Ravendor was turned into a demon. Reincarnation. Kaitlyn is Kaitlyn…" Clive looked up into an invisible sky. "For what purpose? For who's purpose? What was the reason that you decided to come back as my daughter… big sister Seraph?"
He walked down the middle path, both his hands clenched into fists.
Kaitlyn's life could now only be determined by herself.