I'm baaaack! Told you this would take a long time to be updated! ^^;; I've only recently come out of a two-month period of writer's block, and like I mentioned before, beta reading is a LONG process. However, I think this chapter's worth the long time it takes to get things just so.
The reviewers. . . .
Shadow-Dragon5 (and Satty and Sieg): Hey, you were the first to review! ^_^ I'm not surprised you aren't guilty of hiring Alex—who seems to be falling down a bit in the encouragement department. You are a hands-on kind of person . . . !
I usually leave the humour stuff to Yoshimi, since he does it so very well, but lately, I've found myself writing a bit more of it. ^_^ Don't know why, either!
I gave Dotdotdot-chan a run for her money with angst? O_O Wow, I didn't think the scene was THAT good! Thanks a lot!
Kevin C: Ooh, your Djinni knocked hair dye into Alex's precious locks? ^____^ Have a cookie, Flower! *gives chocolate chip cookie* I'm really glad you think the waiting paid off . . . hopefully, you'll think the same after the VERY long wait for this chapter! ^^;;;
Yoshimi Takahashi: That was one heck of a long review! 0_o;; And so you actually admit to hiring Alex, huh? Tsk, I shall have to think of a suitable punishment for you. . . . ^_~ I hope you've managed to knock a few people off the list of those who want to kill you! I've resigned myself to Alex (he makes a good torture target), so at least I don't currently wish to kill you!
Karst really does scare you, doesn't she? And she's even my favourite character, too. I wonder whether you'd survive if you actually DID get her as a muse . . . !
Zeratul: Thanks! I sure hope this lives up to your expectations!
EchoKazul: Wow, that was so long ago that I totally forgot why you were mad at him! Heh, I wonder if I should be bringing this up? ^^;; I know the rest of your review got cut off, but I kinda ALSO forget what else you said. Ah well.
Flaming Tigress Mage:
Menardi: *casts Pyroclasm* ^_^
Alex: *casts Douse on himself* *tiredly* She has been doing that almost constantly, thank you oh so much.
Vyctori: ^_^ This fic is basically "Blaze" rewound to about the middle, only it's through Felix and Sheba's eyes. The story will continue normally and a little past where "Blaze" finished, tying up some loose ends in the process. You know, I think you're the only person to read stories in all three sections I write for! How about that? ^_^
Dark Nemesis 7: Thank you!
The Faction's Lord: Oh, come off it, TFL! We all know you're actually a rabid Lighthouseshipper, only you're too stubborn to admit it! ^_~ Just kidding. I really appreciate you reading this. Sadly, since it took more than a month for me to update this, Alex now has his powers back. Not that he'd ever do anything, what with Menardi being around and all (she makes a brilliant bodyguard, provided you don't mind getting fried now and again).
Menardi: *reading over shoulder* Hah! I could take you in a fight any day! Name the time and place right now and I'll be ready for you! *starts polishing scythe*
Vyctori: Err. . . . Don't kill each other, please!
whitetiger777: I honestly don't understand why Windshipping's so popular, when there's SO much more evidence for Lighthouseshipping! -_-;; I think this romance probably IS going to drag out a bit . . . these two are rather bashful. ^_^
You're more than welcome to drop off little Felix-chan anytime! ^_^ Dotdotdot-chan and I, both being rabid Felly fanatics, will probably end up fighting over his custody!
Oh, Menardi says thank you very much for the kind offer. Then she sort of smirked and left the house and was heading . . . somewhere. Do you have any idea what she was talking about? Because it's always bad news for someone when she gets that look on her face. . . .
Semaj Fallen: Well . . . it is and it isn't post-Blaze. It will be . . . eventually. Right now, I'm doing a bit of a recap. *points at Flaming Tigress Mage's response*
moonjump05: According to my beta, a lot of people who watch a decent amount of anime (like me) tend to have trouble doing proper descriptions. Right now, she's having me work on that. ^^;; More description will come, once I get better at it!
Lighthouseshipper!: You know, you probably shouldn't have mentioned about Felix dying in that fic . . . 'tis something of a spoiler, I could imagine! I'm not much for R-rated fics, usually, especially if they're going to be angsty, but thanks for the suggestion! And Windshipping is unfortunately much too common. *sighs* Well, I'm doing my part to rectify that, anyway. . . .
****
WOW! Twelve reviews this chapter! That's the most I've ever received for a Golden Sun fic! Thanks so much, everyone!
Oh, fic recommendation! Let's see . . . today I'm going to recommend "Reincarnation," by Rallalon. It's a positively brilliant fic that is completely under-appreciated. PG rating, Proxshipping, Lighthouseshipping—what more could anyone want? ^_^
Well, I hope this chapter is worth the wait! Enjoy it!
~ * * * ~
Though the two tried hard, they could not conceal the state of their emotions from Jenna. She pestered them so frequently that Felix was forced to make an announcement one evening. After imparting the news, Jenna sat back, stunned.
"You're kidding me, right, Felix?" she demanded and pleaded at the same time. "They're going to jump out at any minute now and laugh at how you fooled us, aren't they? Felix . . . !"
But the despairing look on her brother's face was all she needed to see to confirm his words.
"No. . . ." she whispered. Then she rose unsteadily and walked into the nearby forest, completely silent.
Sheba got to her feet and tried to follow, but Felix shook his head.
"She needs time alone now," he explained, "to deal with her grief privately. She'd be embarrassed if someone witnessed her pain."
"I never would have believed that those two bright young people would be . . . gone." Kraden removed his spectacles and rubbed at his eyes. "If I had thought something like this would happen, I would have held our friendship closer, as something more dear. But. . . ."
"You couldn't know," Felix broke in, trying to clamp down on his own sorrow. "Just be glad that we knew them for the time we did. I think a good way to live in general would be to treat your friends like each day would be the last day you'd . . . see them. . . ." His control broke as his face twisted from memories he did not want to relive. He had been so happy. . . . Why . . . ? "Excuse me." And he, too, stood up and disappeared into the woods, trying to leave his sadness behind and failing completely.
* * *
Eventually, the group relegated their loss to their darkest corners and moved on, both emotionally and physically. After several weeks of travel, they arrived at the gates of a moderate-sized town.
"Where are we?" Sheba wanted to know as they approached.
Felix squinted at the now much-battered map, still striding forward. "It says this is Madra, although it's kind of hard to tell."
"Hey, uh, Felix, you'd better look up, you know," Jenna commented.
"Huh?" Felix raised his brown-haired head from studying the map . . . to find himself face to hard face with a town guard. The man was pointing a spear straight at him; it was a mere handspan from his stomach. Had he progressed much farther, the consequences would not have been pleasant.
"You lot! State your names and place of birth!" he barked.
A peeved look settled itself on Jenna's features, one that Felix recognized only too well.
"Just go along with him," he muttered to her rapidly, trying to avert a scene. "I am Felix of Vale, recently of Prox," he spoke aloud to the guard and his partner.
"Sheba of—Lalivero." Her brief hesitation had to do with the fact that Sheba still did not know the location at which she came into the world.
"I am Kraden of Tolbi."
"And I'm Jenna of Vale," the redhead finished curtly. "What's going on, that travellers can't enter a town freely?"
"We've just recently sustained an attack by the Champan pirates," the second sentry explained. "We managed to capture one of them—he's in jail, awaiting trial—but we're on the alert for any more suspicious characters." He eyed them carefully and walked around the group a time or two.
"'Suspicious characters.'" Jenna snorted. "Guess who's been listening to one too many low-quality mystery tales from the local bard?"
"Now, Jenna," Felix reprimanded her.
"Whatever." His sister remained unconcerned.
"They seem to be all right," the man announced with a firm nod. He stood aside—the other man did the same. "You may enter."
After the group of four had left the pair behind, Sheba exclaimed disgustedly, "We could've been a scouting party for the Champans disguised as innocent wanderers, for all they knew! No wonder the Madrans found themselves in trouble if they judge people by appearances like this!"
Felix thought of all the times that his foster parents had been shunned because of their unusual appearance, and the numerous problems it had caused on their journey. "I have to agree with you there, Sheba. Sometimes, people just don't make sense."
"So, where should we go first?" Jenna inquired, breaking through his thoughts. "The inn or the weapons shop? Or should we just explore?"
"I—have someplace I need to go . . . on my own." Felix didn't look at any of his friends. "You decide. I'll meet you in front of the inn, later."
Sheba shot him an odd expression, not quite sure what was on his mind. "Well . . . all right. So long as we find out what you were doing afterwards."
"Fine." Felix walked off, the pleasantness of the day fading away with every step he took.
It took a little asking around, but finally, he found what he was looking for—the local tailor. Entering the small and dusty but sunlit shop, Felix waited around until a tall young man came to the forefront of the store.
"Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asked. The tailor seemed the sort of person who would honestly like to know the answer to the question—with him, it wasn't just an empty phrase.
It was an agreeable change, Felix thought. "I would like to purchase a strip of red cloth, long enough to bind around my arm."
"Well, sure." The man vanished into the back before returning with a bolt of the material. He scrutinized Felix's arms before cutting a strip away. "Would you mind me asking what it's for? It's a rather unusual request, you know."
Felix gazed down at the counter, examining the splintering wood in an attempt to hold back the surge of sorrow. "Where I come from, red is the colour of mourning. I'm a traveller, so I can't afford to wear anything more than an armband."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." The tailor gave him a helpless look. "Were you very close to them? I hope their death wasn't difficult or painful."
"Yes, I was very close to them." Felix swallowed with difficulty. "They were my foster parents. They were murdered."
Shocked, the man held out the armband in silence. Felix carefully bound it around his left upper arm.
"How much?" Felix asked softly.
"Nothing."
"No, please, I can't take your charity. . . ."
"I can't make you pay for that." The tailor held up his hands. "To be twice orphaned and to have your foster parents murdered. . . . I don't know who you are, but you need all the kindness you can get."
"Thank you." Felix left the shop, eyes burning once again. "The sun is so bright here," he muttered for the benefit of the citizens of Madra. He didn't want them to think he, an eighteen-year-old man, was crying.
. . . When you are an adult, crying is seen as a sign of weakness. And yet, even the strongest cry on occasion. When the one person who must prevent the destruction of the world is set against many, personal grief is supposed to have little to do with matters. The hero is supposed to be strong publicly, and save sorrow for quiet times. Such a very difficult thing to do. . . .
* * *
When he arrived at the inn, none of his travelling group was waiting, so he entered and booked two rooms with the small amount of money they had made on their journey. Afterwards, he went and found everyone. Jenna and Sheba were examining the weapon display, while Kraden was discovered to be asking a native the way to the library.
"Is there any place you haven't been, yet?" Felix wanted to know.
"Um, I don't think so—wait, we forgot the jail!" Jenna remembered.
"Why would we go there?" Sheba made a face. "Prisons are dank, filthy, and generally disgusting."
Felix shrugged. "Well, we might learn something worth knowing."
"Yeah, like more four-letter words from the prisoners," Sheba muttered.
"Sheba! You know what I'm talking about." Felix sighed.
"Aw, don't mind Sheba. She's just exhibiting her gutter mind." Jenna made a flapping motion with her hand as the group started to drift towards the solid stone building.
"I am not!"
It took only a short amount of time to arrive at the prison. Once Felix's eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed that, out of the two cells, only one was occupied. A tall, strong, blue-haired man stood very rigidly with his back to the iron-barred door, trying his hardest to ignore the short man who was shouting at him and the guard posted at his cell.
"Admit it! You're one of the Champa, aren't you, Piers? Speak, or let your silence condemn you!" the man yelled at him.
Piers answered in a voice that was of medium depth of tone. It was an expressive voice, right now sounding full of pain. "I told you already . . . I'm not a Champa."
"Then where did you come from?" his inquisitor sneered.
"The heart of the Eastern Sea . . . . If I told you where, you'd never believe me."
"What's going on?" Felix whispered to his sister as the interrogation continued.
"Madra recently sustained a raid from the Champa, a group of pirates," she explained. "I heard they found Piers unconscious in a boat right after the tidal wave struck, and in a wonderful demonstration of the concept of 'innocent until proven guilty,' stuck him in here." Jenna's words were positively dripping with sarcasm. "Sure, there's a chance that he's guilty, but that's still no excuse for what they did to him!"
"I don't want your sympathy, freak! I want you to get angry for me!" the man bellowed suddenly, interrupting their conversation. He gritted his teeth together and in his wrath, kicked dirt towards Piers.
"Stop, please . . . ." Piers implored as the dirt swirled around his legs. "Even my patience has limits."
Felix felt as though Piers was telling the truth. He seems to be at the end of his self-control, he thought. The blue-haired man's fists were clenched at his sides so hard that his knuckles were blanched.
"Hey, don't you want to see what he'll do?" Piers' tormentor asked the guard.
"Shin, I think we should just stop. . . ." The sentry sounded rather nervous.
"Huh!" Shin snorted and spat through the bars of the cell. The saliva plastered itself against Piers' bare thigh and oozed its way to the ground as Felix and the others stared, stunned.
It was the last thing Piers could take. He spun, his movements sharp and controlled. His eyes, an unusual dandelion yellow, were crackling with anger. "If my words will not cool your temper, then . . . ." He raised a muscular arm and pointed at a pool of water in which Shin was standing.
Without warning, the puddle reached up and formed itself into a tall pillar of ice. Shin screamed in terror and slipped off, landing on his bottom. He scrambled to his feet and burst out of the prison, still crying out in fear.
"Felix! Felix, look!" Kraden was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement. "That was Psynergy!"
"What, really?" Sheba asked sardonically.
"Yes, I do believe that my hypothesis is correct, and. . . ." the scholar seemed unaware of the tone of her voice.
"Master Kraden, she was only joking," Felix told him kindly.
He looked back to where the sentry was backing away from Piers' cell. The spear he was pointing at the imprisoned man was trembling.
"You monster!" the guard cried.
Suddenly, it was as if all the rage contained within Piers simply died. "I—I am no monster," he protested, voice forlorn. His eyelids dropped, eyes no longer containing the spark of anger. His hands dropped to his sides, fists uncurling. The tension that once had been holding his body rigid left him, leaving him drained of all emotion but sorrow. Head bowed, he was almost despair solidified.
Without another word, the sentry fled, almost tripping over the butt of his spear in his fright. Piers watched him go, and then, shoulders slumped, turned around and retreated to the back of the cell.
"Wow," Jenna whispered. "Poor Piers. Felix, maybe we should try to talk to him."
"You're right." Felix nodded. He walked up to the iron-barred door and hesitantly cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me?"
He received no answer.
He tried again. "Piers? That is what you're called, right?"
Again, the blue-haired man refused to respond.
"Hey, Felix is talking to you!" Sheba informed him, annoyed. "Where I come from, it's polite to answer when people speak to you!"
"Why should I speak to you, when all you Madrans do is torment me for crimes I did not commit?" Piers' soft words floated to them, seemingly carried by a current of dull, miserable resentfulness.
"We're not from Madra." Felix's heart ached for the man. "My name is Felix of Prox, and—"
"Prox?" Now Piers faced them, curious. "I have never heard of your town before. I'm sorry I was so rude, but for the last few weeks. . . ." He shrugged, letting his sentence trail off.
"Don't worry, we understand." Jenna smiled at him. "I'm Jenna, Felix's sister."
Sheba and Kraden also introduced themselves. Then, not being able to contain his natural inquisitiveness any longer, Kraden eagerly queried, "What you used . . . that was Psynergy, was it not?"
Piers stared at them. "How do you know of Psynergy? You are not of my people!"
"There are Adepts scattered throughout the world, and we are among them," Felix began, trying to forestall a gigantic lecture from Kraden. The researcher of Alchemy meant well, but he had a penchant for teaching at inconvenient moments. "Well, excluding Kraden, that is."
"Yes, documentation has shown that Adepts have settled in various regions around the world, including—ouch!" Kraden broke off his speech to give Jenna a resentful look. "Jenna, why did you elbow me?"
The Mars Adept was the very image of innocence. "Whoops. My arm must've slipped."
Piers shook his head, apparently having difficulty absorbing the news—and understanding the strangeness of his visitors. "But . . . oh, it doesn't matter. Until I am freed from this prison, nothing does." The last sentence was uttered in a half-whisper, as if it was intended for his own hearing alone.
But he did not speak softly enough. Jenna moved forward and wrapped her hands around the bars of the cell. "Piers, we want to help. Is there anything we can do, anything at all . . . ?"
Piers stiffened somewhat and gave the group a fierce glare. "I can solve my own problems, thank you very much. I do not need perfect strangers to meddle in my affairs."
"And you obviously have the situation perfectly under control," Jenna snapped, staring pointedly around the jail, waving a hand in the air.
"Jenna, have patience," Felix murmured too softly for Piers to catch. "He's in a terrible situation, and it's hurting him." Louder, he inquired, "Piers, we don't want to see you this miserable. Is there anything we can do, anything at all?"
"Well . . . the elder of this village was sympathetic to my problems." Piers gave the information almost reluctantly. "When he came to visit me, he told me of how he spoke against my imprisonment, though not a single person would listen."
"So where is this elder?" Sheba demanded.
"He left for Alhafra, in search of the true pirates. Only by capturing them did he feel he could clear my name."
"Well, I don't see why we can't just break this place to bits with our Psynergy and let Piers go," Jenna remarked impatiently. "I mean, it's obvious to anyone with all their mental capacities" ––here she coughed significantly–– "that Piers is innocent. So why not save ourselves a journey?"
"No! I would be hunted, a wanted man," Piers protested. "My escape would only be further proof of my guilt, in the minds of the Madrans. I must stay here until the elder returns . . . even though I have no time to wait."
"What do you mean by that?" Sheba inquired, curious.
Piers shook his head, eyes turned to the floor. "It is nothing. . . ."
Felix bit his lower lip, disturbed by the hopelessness in the captive man's voice. "Piers, even though you don't want our help, it looks like you need it. I promise you that we'll do our best to help you."
"Thank you." From his posture and tone, it was simple to tell that Piers didn't place much faith in them. "You had better go, now. You've been speaking with me for too long . . . the guards will become suspicious. The Madrans may believe that, by being sympathetic to my cause, you may try something—rash."
"That makes no sense." Sheba shook her blond head in disgust.
"I know . . . but it's the truth, isn't it?" His voice was sad.
Silently, thoughtfully, the group filed out of the prison, in a subdued mood. Without saying anything, they walked the short distance to the inn.
They say that justice should be available for all. But it's only an ideal. If justice were served, Menardi and Saturos would be alive today, Felix thought, suddenly bitter. Foolish assumptions, based on appearances. Maybe Piers' problems aren't so different from my foster parents', after all. . . .
~ * * * ~
Vyctori: *pacing* I just CAN'T have Alex as a muse! I can't! I bet the IHAC are revoking my membership even as I speak!
Menardi: Settle down, Vyctori.
Vyctori: Settle down? SETTLE DOWN?! The most loathsome thing ever to try to steal the power of Alchemy is living in MY HOUSE!
Menardi: That's bound to make the neighbours talk.
Vyctori: Oh no! You don't think . . . they'll think. . . . 0_o;;; *spazzes out*
Menardi: Vycki, calm down. If anyone says anything, I'll just decapitate them, okay?
Vyctori: *tries to calm down* But how can we get rid of him? I don't think I could bear to have Alex as a muse!
Menardi + Vyctori: *think very hard*
Menardi: Hey, I know!
Vyctori: *gets out of trench she has worn in the floor from pacing and grabs Menardi by both shoulders* QUICK! TELL ME!
Menardi: It's simple. Remember how much trouble Shadow had with fangirls when Siegfried arrived?
Vyctori: Yeah, she had to take her bazookas to them. I remember that. But I don't see how it's going to help. . . .
Menardi: Well, you know that Alex has a load of fangirls, right?
Vyctori: And?
Menardi: So we take out an advertisement in the paper telling them he's here and they'll come and take him off our hands!
Vyctori: Menardi, that's a wonderful idea! *hugs Menardi* I'll go phone The Times right now and ask them to place an ad!
The next day. . . .
Alex: *purchases copy of The Times and takes it home* *begins to read and sees a certain advertisement* Huh? "Fangirls, do you wish to know the exact location of Alex of Imil? Look no further! He is here and is up for grabs for the lucky girl who gets here first! Just come to the following address . . . ." 0_o;; Vyctori, Menardi, would either of you know anything, perchance, about this certain advertisement?
Vyctori: *innocent look* What? *reads ad* I don't know what you're talking about, Alex.
Menardi: *also reads* Me either. Anyway, don't forget to review this, everyone, or we'll send the hoards of fangirls we're expecting to your house. A fate worse than death!
Vyctori: No kidding!
*doorbell rings*
Vyctori: *listening to screeches of fangirls outside* ^_^ Alex, go get that, will you?
Alex: 0_o;;;