Chrono Cross Second Journey
Fan Novelization
Book 2
8 The Sacrament
he companions of four tunneled through the distortion at Opassa Beach and out of its other end they emerged into this other world. But this other world, home to three of the four, greeted them with a hot morning, as if it ridiculed them with hostility. The stifling air clogged their nasals, while the burning sands nipped at their feet. The great sea to their south wavered in the heat while the waves rolled in and out of the shores slowly, as if meekly. The great dome of blue from which the fierce sun held sway was unblemished by the grey of clouds, as it was unadorned by the white. Yet, in amidst the daunting hindrances set against them by some will unknown, a symbol of hope remain: their flimsy sailboat docked safely in the sands, as if it waited faithfully for the company's return.
"You can still choose," said Serge suddenly. He turned to Leena, his expression grave. "If you don't wish to be involved, please go home. It's only a short walk from here. But the road we take is dangerous. It will be a lifetime for me to bear, if anything should happen to you when you, least of us all, need to fight."
Leena pressed her lips and was silent for a moment. Then, as if she made up her mind, she strode resolutely toward the wooden boat and pushed it with her might into the water. "Let's go, Serge, Kid, Glenn. I'm not turning back now. Give me a hand, will you?"
The company boarded the boat and began their sail towards Mount Pyre.
The weight Serge bore in his shoulders had grown heavier by the day and was now growing unbearable by the moment.
Within him once lay a sapling from which he had hoped truth would sprout. But that hope that had branched and swelled beyond him and the rules of the world had left him punctured, utterly wounded in heart and mind. The stars were no longer shimmering jewels in the dark of night, but glimmers of failing hope in bleak times. The moons were no longer batting eyes of silver and red, but cowards who seized the dim of shadow to empower the world. The sun was no longer the yellow father of warmth, the giver of life, but a cold measure of the passing days, months and those long years. They all now cast a different light on all that walked under them, a light that seemed gloomy and shady. Gone and never to return were the days when ignorance was bliss, when simple was nothing short of beautiful. This instant, one edge of the world was closing on him from behind while he chased the other. It felt as if it was giving him less to breathe and less on which he could stand. It felt as if it was after his life.
But into his life came Lavos, a being he could only imagine as a drawing over white paper, ever so distant, ever so fictional. Then from fantasy and the dream of ignorance he woke to face a divine being, a Dragon God of the six, beings that had been nothing more than legend for ages known. But none of these, like any part of his story that began a week ago, were anything to laugh or cry for. Till this day, events in his life had been unfolding swiftly and callously. Yet, each revelation on its own seemed no more than a small part of a long, endless thread, each part leading merely and necessarily to the next. On this thread, he precariously balanced and walked its narrow path. It would take only a lapse in his concentration, a biased tip and he would plunge to somewhere worth little of mention. And this thread, like a living being, had intentions of it own. So it had chosen to involve him in this circus show beyond the greatest proportions, but it too had chosen to command the show to its own strange whimsies. Serge had little choice in matters.
But in all that dread came something unmistakably dear to him. He found a worthy comrade in Kid, and much more than a friend in her deep blue eyes. In him he felt this throbbing he would describe, in his own words, a bond, however undeserving he knew this word was. It was none of that looking forward to a stroll down the beach hand-in-hand, but the experience of the sharing of minds, as if they were one. Indeed, he found somewhere in him her emotions--anxiousness, anger, anticipation--thumping with each beat of his heart. Perhaps her emotions had found him. And even though it had only been a short time, it pointed to him a great future, one that he wished he were already there. If all else in the world were reduced to the cold of the unfeeling, he knew where he could find warmth. If this marvelous woman was not worth a drop of his blood, then nothing else in this world was worth a tear.
"Until the end of the time, Kid," said Serge. "Whatever happens, I'm with you."
That brought a shy smile to Kid, even if all this while she had between her brows darkened furrows of vengeance.
"Let us not say such things now," Glenn advised. "Ill will it is."
"Right! But no," muttered Leena conspicuously. "Leave all these goodbyes till we finish Lynx. Bad, real bad!"
Leena received a nudge from Glenn at the knee, at which she fell silent and embarrassed.
Too soon, the ships of the military rose over the rim of the world. Thereafter the dark peaks of the fiery cavern followed as it climbed swiftly into the skies, while its shore edged towards them. Its dreary, weathered slopes faltered behind the fury of the heat, like rocks did beneath the surface of water. Quickly, the empowering grey of the mountains drowned their world under a mystic cover, and turned the world in their eyes a sight, washed and discolored. While the past days of his journey seemed to have taken more time than it did, this moment fleeted past in an instant that was to be caught by no eyes or hands. This while, they rode upon the waves of the sea like a bird borne on the winds in swift flight.
Mount Pyre greeted the travelers with a gaping mouth into its cavern, from which a hot red that glowed steadily upon its walls could be seen. But while wave upon wave of heat gushed forth from the mountain within, the magic of the Water Dragon God worked on the companions silently. As their boat struck gently the dull, colorless shores, within themselves they felt a sense of serenity softly rippling, and felt in their hearts inexplicable warmth. Tears came to Leena. She shut her eyes tight while the tears trickled, and to her chest she placed both her clasped hands, as if in a prayer of gratitude. To Serge, he felt suddenly detached from the gloom around him. He felt as if he now stood on a low mound and overlooked a meadow of a sea of green, where upon its surface the winds leisurely grazed and swept. So at ease was his mind he was tempted to sit in the boat forever and be content not pursuing the truth.
"Oi, snap out of it!" growled Kid as she snapped her finger at Leena.
"But why?" Leena opened her eyes to ask. "I was only saying a prayer!"
"Were you? You look to me like you've been charmed."
"But don't you feel it, Kid?" cried Leena. "I've never believed in Gods and Goddesses my entire life. When the villagers talk of praying and what-not, I scoffed at them. I told even my own mother, that all these talk of religion are all in one's mind. But t-this... I've never felt anything that lovely, that pure. It cannot be just 'all in one's mind'; it makes me want to believe! Don't you even feel it at all?"
Serge plucked himself from his dreams and was almost in agreement with Leena.
"I feel it," Kid acknowledged, but remained unimpressed. "But I'm afraid I'm not as agreeable as you are about the Dragon Gods. Help or not, I wonder. Stand firm and don't be swayed by magic or whatever nonsense they call it. Trust me when I say: you earn what you work for; nothing comes free, not even protections from that Great Fat Toad."
Leena frowned, wiped the tears and retorted to defend her stand, "Can you tell me what could the Dragon God be scheming, if that is what you are implying!?"
"Calm down. Now you are getting emotional," said Kid.
"I am not emotional!"
Then Glenn spoke. "Kid is right. Let us not overreact, but forge ahead with due diligence. This must not divide us now. For within the Ring of Death, the enemy waits."
"The last we want now is slip-ups," warned Kid sternly. "Come on. Let's get our behinds moving."
Leena cast a furious glance at Glenn in obvious protest. But almost instantly after their gaze met, she conceded and slouched in surrender. Even so, like a child who could not get what she wanted, she remained discontented.
If the heat failed to burn Serge, guilt and embarrassment burned his ears. And while the rest set their feet on the darkened shore, Serge spent a moment in self-reprimand, for he, too, felt overpowered by the magic of the Dragon God. At length, he stood from his seat and without a word, he alighted the boat while Kid observed her companion closest to her with a wary eye.
The companions walked steadily deeper into the cavern of fire, and eventually left the last ray of sunlight from the outside world behind them. Cast against the chunky walls, the fiery light seemed to bring to life outlines of gruesome faces. Where it seemed like eyes from which the face watched, the rocks glowed brilliantly. Where it seemed like the mouth with which the face cried in agony, the rocks hid from the fires a dark, unnerving, depthless shadow. From the ceiling hung long, dark stalactites and from the ground hung long, dark stalagmites, as if they were sets of teeth of a mouth larger than the painful faces. The cavern that stank foul of hatred and pain also echoed within its walls the relentless fury of nature. For now and then, loud explosions rocked the cave. But fury knew no rest, for its ceaseless strength rumbled the grounds, beneath which temperatures must further soar, and even rock, solid earth must boil and dissolve.
Though protected from the melting heat, the companions each had in his mouth his heart. For no one knew if or when the rumbling ground would collapse, and down with it drag everyone into red, hot boiling earth. As they treaded, Serge felt a sudden chill of cold sweat flushing down from his head, as if under a fall of ice he now stood. But in his mind a primate fear began to bud, from which now came shivers and chatters. He cast a glance at the faces of his companions and saw nothing he did not expect. The shadow of fear had already laid dark bands beneath their eyes, just as it had left their eyes hollow, as if devoid of expression. From then on, he tried not to look at anyone, for through their empty eyes bore the keen likeness to those of a walking zombie, as if in this hell evil had possessed their body and consumed their souls.
The amber of fire burned stronger, brighter as their feet brought them from a dim cavern into a clear, wide area. On cooled lava they now walked, like thick, viscous, shiny liquid it looked but hard as solid rock it felt. At times they treaded on little globules, at others they a smooth, flow of frozen black. Upon its shiny surface the crimson of the cave steadily mirrored, forming ripples and weaves and strands of gleaming yellow, red and black. From holes in the ground hot, grey mud bubbled meekly and through thin streams of trickles they flowed into grimy pools. Fine wisps of steam hung about low and motionless, like the thin mist before the coming of dawn. Far towards the north the ground of frozen lava sloped down to where no eyes could see. Here it felt as if the fury of nature had receded, and calm returned. But over the edge of the slope where the eyes could see, a fiery glow hovered, as if the sun was due to rise from behind.
As the travelers of four pressed tirelessly into the cavern, an eerie voice began to sing. They stopped, looked and drew their weapons. Only Leena turned pale and froze. In the stale of the air, came these cheerful words carried on an ancient tune:
Through hell comes he,
Over the tide, the son of man.
Into heaven comes he,
Against the flow, a judge of time.
As these words repeated themselves, a short figure emerged from the cavern behind them. It walked on two hinds, and seemed like the breed of some dragon. Red, shiny scales dressed its body, while two short horns crowned its tiny head. It looked at the companions with eyes, friendly and warm, like that of a young puppy when cuddled into one's arms.
"What do we have here?" said the little dragon cheerfully. "Humans? Not very friendly ones I see."
After a moment of hesitance, the companions eased, their weapons sheathed.
"A dragonian?" asked Leena with small relief. "But aren't they extinct this age and day?"
"Oh yes, they are my sweet lady," said the dragon with a smile. "Only I've been forgotten a long time ago, ever since I dwelled in this cozy, lonely cavern. Long time ago was a very long time ago, ages, eras, eons. No, maybe not that long. But things have gotten rather lively here this couple of days. Plenty of people have passed through. I assume you, too, will be heading where they were headed. Will there be a great, big gathering I haven't heard of, I wonder? Then again, since I've heard nothing, it's not my concern, I suppose."
The dragon chuckled.
"And you were singing?" she asked.
"Oh! An old riddle of this cavern left down by time. Did I sing well?"
"Look," interrupted Kid, "we have no interest in your businesses. You mind yours, we mind ours."
"I never had any interest in yours either," it said. "But you will return though."
Kid raised both eyebrows, as if in surrender. Then she walked away without a word.
"Yes, you will return. Time will tell. And then we will see what we have become."
The dragon winked at Leena and sprinted off into the distance.
"Don't you think it's strange that we should see a dragonian here?" asked Leena.
"Strange it seems," said Glenn, "though less surprising than it is."
"I can't help feel its appearance has something to do with me," said Serge. "I can't help feel it was trying to tell me something."
"When you meet again like it said," said Glenn as he marched towards the far edge north. Leena followed.
"I wonder," thought Serge as he watched the little dragon bolt. It ran clumsily with its hind swaying back and forth like that of an obese duckling. For a moment, it reminded him of the two clumsy henchmen that he encountered many evenings ago. The stir of fear subsided for as long as he watched the dragon. When it disappeared out of sight, he turned his gaze towards the north, where his companions had stopped at the edge.
With an anticipation he could sense from his silent, watching companions, he walked up slowly to their ranks. As the edge of the slope drew closer, it lifted from its rear a view that his eyes and mind awed in speechless wonder. Before them flowed a great river of molten lava, bright and yellow, melting under the heat of itself. Thick, slimy and heavy was its body; like that of a huge snake slowly wreathing its massive weight through a deep gully. Onto the fat river, pillar after pillar of hot yellow oozed from clefts and crevices in the cavern walls; and smaller ones poured from the pouts of rocks, as if they did from the mouth of a beast. Here and there on the river small fires raged and then died. But huge columns of flames blew up now and then, for this was where nature unleashed its fury on gravel that fell from the cavern ceiling. When dust fine enough fell, a blast of fire soared up and consumed it whilst the ensuing explosion rocked the cavern, sending more dust to fall to fuel the unrelenting wrath.
The four went down the slope and stopped at the edge of the bank. They watched the afternoon sunlight stream from an exit the other side of the river, helpless. For a hundred feet of fire now separated them from where they were headed, as it did between them and their quest.
"What now?" asked Kid who had her hands on her hips.
"Did we miss a fork?" mused Leena as she gazed around.
"I am certain we missed nothing," said Glenn. "The path here could not have been simpler. And there is no other."
"Sheeze," Kid swore with the fling of an arm. "All this way for what? How are we to cross this, now?"
"Our faith," then suggested Serge as he walked to the burning river, against his companions' dissuasion. He squatted and reached his hands towards the thick, moving slime and to no surprise of his, he found it cool. Then came a sudden forlorn for his beloved swallow, for in his mind he considered dipping his weapon into the lava. It took a moment's worth of hesitation before he pierced the blade into the heat.
With an ache in his heart, he waited for the cold silver steel to burn yellow and melt, and then into smoke it would disintegrate. Instead to his awe, the crimson red of the molten lava around the swallow began to dull. A dark, silver sheen took form as the lava gradually froze rock solid. Like water that soiled clothing, inch after inch the cold of silver crept north and subdued the heat of fire. As land spread from this bank and constricted the lava vessel, the flow of lava began to veer towards the other. And when the river was sealed from bank to bank, lava flowing towards the new land spilled over into the hardened landscape and quickly, it, too were frozen. Magic continued to spread, and darkness soon fell upon the cavern like night did upon day. Explosions dwindled and were now an occasional distant rumble, as if finally the fury of nature had been tamed.
Serge stood to his feet, relieved that his path had laid itself before him. He stepped onto it and led his companions across.
"Faith, huh?" said Kid, as she walked up to Serge and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Not bad at all."
When they arrived at the other side of the bank, the magic that led them across began to wilt. The companions turned back to watch the frozen land began to soften and cracks of light began to pierce through its dreary gray. Into slabs the land soon broke and crumbled, and under the yellow of the heat they slowly sank and melted. The river sprung to live whilst darkness slowly shied away. And once again the light of day reigned.
"So much for his blessings," Kid muttered, shaking her head. "You can be sure he'd be asking for some offerings."
"Perhaps or perhaps not," said Serge. "But until then, we still have Lynx to bother ourselves with."
"Of course! I can't wait."
The structure they called Fort Dragonia stood amidst insurmountable cliffs of the mountain range, formed from the sunken crater of an extinct volcano. While its exterior had in all aspects mounted a grim wall of doom, on its surface within the crater an abundant species of lush greenery clothed, endearing to the ignorant eyes. Within the mountain range, deep in its cracks flowed the flesh eating lava, from which the crater had fittingly earned its name, the Ring of Death.
Decades have passed since the last of the dragonians walked the lands of El Nido. But this fort, trapped within a natural fence that barred all things living, had endured the conquest of land by any who dared to try, until this day. It had been undoubtedly a stronghold in the ages that it was in use, but what it protected against when it mattered, few today knew. Never had there been records of war in the history of El Nido, and it was plain fact that the races of dragonians and humans had always lived in harmony at least before Porre's colonization.
A tower of the fort stretched towards the sky several hundred feet above ground as no architecture of man could match. A massive plain of stone of fine cut on which they stood spanned around the tower and supported it like a dish supported a thin, burning candle; stone unto which artwork of intricate designs had found their way painstakingly carved since ancient, forgotten pasts. Yet, underneath that tower lay a chasm that reached vertically towards the deepest, darkest depths of the earth. Continuous gusts of cold wind that drafted upwards from the chasm depths gave a deep, resounding horn, as from a terrible beast hungry for food. Indeed, it was a chasm in which even the fiercest of lights would find consumed and devoured, helpless to an unknown prey. Supported by six bridges, each of a singular slab, the epitome of the now extinct dragonians hovered precariously, but miraculously over a doomed fall. Dragon statues of six Elemental colors accompanied the tower, wings folded to their backs. They stood aligned at the corners of a hexagon, each facing the tower that stood at their perfect center, as if each watched over the tower, as if each lifted it defiantly against the rules of nature with its cold, hard gaze and a touch of magic. The six bridges joined the towers to the six statues, and joined to it the bravest of hearts who dared challenge the height, who dared to have the faith.
When the view of the dragonian tower fell into Serge's eyes, it stole his breath away. He was not as much as bewildered as he was shocked, for this was the tower that had first appeared in his dream, before he stumbled into this world in which he did not belong. This tower that once was a fuzzy recollection now stood before him in its stark magnificence, in its most intricate detail. Once it had told him of an unnerving premonition, for two of the people he met in the dream he eventually met in reality. It now told him of the inevitable, death closing in on one dear to him, unless with all determination he could muster he defied the dream and the possibility that it forebode. He resolved to break the spell of destiny, to change the course of fate. With all hope, he impressed upon himself under a silent, repetitive chant that nothing would happen.
Nothing must happen.
"A majestic castle like a speck of dust lost in the mists of time," said Glenn. "Yet, under the burning star it stands, and from within an uncanny pulse beats, as if the fort has a soul of its own. See how the rounded edges of the tower meld with its environs. I would almost think it grew out of the soil the sturdy trunk of a tree. And one could not help wonder at how ever the tower could have been built over that chasm. What a feat it must have been!"
"You make sound so beautiful," said Leena. She spread her arms and wheeled on her toes. "And more beautiful it seems to become. It's so worth our time, I'd say, and all the effort we took to get here."
"But this is no leisure trip, Leena," reminded Glenn. "Each of us has his or her purpose for being here, and our own battle to fight. Let us be constantly reminded of that."
Leena nodded obediently.
Serge agreed with a nod, for in his mind he continued his chant.
"What's the matter?" said Kid, who regarded Serge intently. "You've been quiet."
"Nothing," replied Serge. "Just that we are finally here."
"Yes, this is it," said Kid as she scanned the vast crater. And off the mountain walls returned a soft echo. "The end of our road. But it is quiet on the outside, too quiet. Where are those who defend the fort?"
"You do not see them, but they are here," said Glenn as his glance flitted about the encompassing mountains. "The fourth and sixth companies of archers are in hiding. For it is now the best cover for them and the worst surprise for the enemy. Hundreds of arrows are trained on us this moment. But to us they mean no harm. If they did, we would not have lived to speak a word more. The remaining of the ground forces should be resting within the fort tower."
A chill wind rose from the dark chasm and swept from it towards the encircling mountains.
"So, what does that all mean?" said Leena, her eyes darting about, trying to find what only Glenn could see.
"It means that they are expecting us," said Kid as she turned to face her companions.
"Lynx is expecting us," corrected Serge.
An entrance near the edge of the depthless chasm led the travelers into a narrow corridor of steps. Into it and downwards they walked, between tight, brown walls, below a tall ceiling. On each step were slabs of embossed characters as they would if painted by imposing strokes. Yet, each was as elegant and refined as legends spoke of its people. On the walls and ceilings were carved the hieroglyphic symbols of some language that seemed more ancient than the old fort. In both walls at regular intervals, great round panels of light steadily shone as the face of the moon in a clear night sky. None shimmered, and none had eternally faded behind darkness to join history amidst the forgotten symbols. And for a few thousand years these magical lights might have endured and persevered, since the monumental inception of the magnificent dragonian structure.
Then, through the narrow flight of stairs a draft gushed.
Soon they emerged to a wide, stone bridge, one of the six that challenged the bravest of hearts over an eternal tumble. At a hundred feet below the level of ground, they could see the brown of the cliffs wane into the black of the chasm. And from where they stood the fort tower loomed and rose ominously toward the azure heavens. Dark were its shadow on the eastern sides, darker were the peril it portended. At one end of the bridge the companions of four stood, and the far gates of the entrance to the tower across the bridge seemed as distant as the unfathomable pit bottom.
"How... how deep is this hole?" Leena stammered, pale in the face.
"Deep as you wish. Follow me," said Kid to her companions.
And with the grace of a swan over gentle waters, Kid floated across the bridge. Serge followed.
"How does she make it look effortless?" lamented Leena, who began to tread slowly across. Followed behind her was Glenn.
As Serge walked he chanted. He began to realize that the safety of the narrow flight of stairs had retreated. The vast open he soon walked into, and helpless and insignificant he soon became. Above him was the vacant sky, and below the naught of emptiness. Thoughts began to stray as he wondered how void could be, if it could not be felt, seen, or heard. One could put into words and song the beauty of the coming of spring, the dawn of a new morning, and the birth of a child. But none can be said for nothing; yet, the emptiness of nothing exists. Soon it dawned on him that it was through fear that the nameless void took shape, and in the hearts of the weak it lived strong. For that fear now was swelling in his little being, as if the void below was claiming him.
He opened his steps and under the cloak of dimness he hid his fears. Whilst the occasional wind surged and howled, his heart raced and thumped until at length his feet traveled three-fourths of the bridge. There, he sighed and almost slouched, though he did not quicken and slacken his pace. Like a sack dropped to the floor a good deal of fear in him receded. But like scratches the sack made on his shoulder flakes of that fear scarred and lingered in his mind. At last he came to the end of the bridge, and following behind were Glenn and Leena, pale in her cheeks.
By then Kid had inspected the gates, which she found to be unlocked. She opened them, and then waved them in before she last entered.
At the lowest level of the great fort, a great hall of an octagonal design embraced them. In its center a pillar stood, wide as twenty men and women hand-in-hand around a fire. At the south of the pillar, a door under a frowning arch kept shut behind its frames a chamber within. All over a soft hue of blue glowed, and like the calmness of the great seas it soothed and numbed one's senses. But it, too, washed away a good measure of reds and greens as the coming of winter stole from the world leaves and flowers. In the glow of blue, light and shadow carved the ancient words of the dragonian tongue on the walls and floors. The magical strokes of bright and dark brought also to life vivid sequences of murals of dragon rulers, lords and above them all, almighty gods of the living world. In one sequence, dragonians worshipped before a great dragon lord. In the next of it, many hands forged a device of a crystal ringed with six orbs and thereafter offered it to the great lord. The final sequence spoke of the rising of a dark power that cast the gloom of shadow unto the world, after which both dragon and crystal came to a terrible end, shattered and divided.
Serge walked to and studied the last mural. He ran a hand over the mural and from the edges of the carvings dust fell. Then, with shock he retreated, as if he feared for the fragility of old wall and that it might fall. One more look he took at the hall within which he stood. It began to dawn on him that this ancient stronghold, built like a place of worship, was built to defend and protect not a people, but some thing, unknown and forgotten. Thereupon the words of Chief Direa of Guldove village came to mind: If they plan to activate the ancient ruin, the Sacrament of the Souls...
"Serge!" Kid hissed and stole his attention.
She had opened the great doors to the chamber in the pillar and was waiting and waving him over. Serge regarded the last mural even as he walked to Kid, as if he felt emotionally attached to it and sympathized with the downfall of the dragon lord. Perhaps, he was loath to discover what waited for him in that chamber, but his feet seemed convinced that in and beyond there his fate must lie.
In the chamber, Serge saw something he did not want to see. At the end of it a platform floated, like the one it did in his dream. On it marked the recurring symbol of the dragonian faith: six white rings at the corners of an unseen hexagon, attached to a centre white ring by lines like the spokes of a wheel. Leena and Glenn were already waiting for him on the platform. With one hand on Serge's back, Kid walked him to the edge of the platform. She regarded him with concern, though he took little notice of it. A great part of his mind he devoted to keep his hands from trembling. He tried to fight off the conscious part of him that made him do what he did. But scene by scene his dream was realizing, and like one chapter after another of a book he read again, he knew exactly what was about to happen.
Glenn reached a hand out, and after a moment's worth of hesitation Serge took it. Like a comrade and soldier, he pulled Serge onto the platform and on Serge's arm Glenn patted a firm gesture of support. When the ride was full, Leena threw a switch and the platform began a slow struggle upwards. Through a narrow shaft the platform rose. Sparks flew at the edge of the platform as it painfully rubbed against the walls of stone.
And so they reached the next level of the fort, and no higher would the floating platform rise. Two large gates of heavy bronze open, cranking as they slid along its old, rusted tracks. Before them they could see a dim hallway, through the other end of which yellow light poured.
Serge watched his companions step off the platform, but he stood rooted to the ground, struggling against an inner strength that tried to push him forward. He felt bitter cold bite into his fingers and his arms, and perspiration gather on his forehead. Kid turned and regarded him with wrinkles between her brows.
"What is it, Serge? You look troubled," Leena observed. Then with an anxious, as if regretful sigh, she said, "This is it. There is no turning back now."
With a tip of her head, she gestured Serge forward. Then, brimming with confidence, she turned to face the welcoming light at the end of the hallway. "Come on Serge, Leena!" she roared. "Just you wait, Lynx! Today's gonna be the day of reckoning Say your prayers! Not that it'll do you any good!"
Laughter exploded from Kid and like a thunderous quake it rumbled down the hallway. Moments later, the same laughter could be heard echoing from the spaces beyond. She seemed eager to make her presence known.
"Serge!" Leena hissed as she waved him over anxiously.
Kid bolted, quickly followed by Leena and Glenn. Powerless against his own independent thoughts, Serge charged forward, as if even he was inspired by Kid's courage and thirst for vengeance.
From of the hallway the companions emerged to a grand, round hall, at the center of which stood a raised dais three feet from the ground. But as they approached the dais, three Acacia guards who had been backing against the wall sprang from behind and ambushed them with spears to their backs. A flood of soldiers then suddenly emerged from passages into the hall and now an entire company of at least forty strong surrounded the companions of four.
Kid whipped out her dagger, and the other three, their arsenal.
"Halt! Intruders!" roared a burly dragoon. "Put down your weapons and you shall come to no harm."
"Yours first," Kid demanded stubbornly.
"You must be terribly dense," said the guard. "Can you not tell that the odds are against you? You have been lucky once, but today, you have picked a wrong place for petty thievery, young lady." That said, he poked his spear at Kid's jugular.
"Ceasefire, Captain!" commanded a booming voice.
The company of guards eased away, and through the wall of men came walking a stout individual who donned a white combat armor and long hair of faint blue.
"But Sir Karsh--"
"Have you not received your orders?" said the Deva, one of the four elites of the Acacia Dragoons.
"So I have and will follow them exactly as they are," said the guard. "But here stands four thieves instead of three as far as the eyes of my guards and mine can see, Sir. And one of whom dons the armor of the dragoons! It is my duty to see--"
Karsh hushed the guard and regarded the travelers one by one until his eyes fell upon Glenn.
"Should I be surprised, Glenn?" said Karsh, his brows furrowed. "And where is Lady Riddel, if I may ask? Tell me how the son of Garai has got himself into such a fix as this"--Karsh eyed Kid disparagingly--"and left the Lady to the hands of Porre, should they invade at this hour?"
"The Lady is in good hands," said Glenn. "She now stays at the Hermit's Hideaway with Sir Radius. But it is the General whom we must worry about. If anyone is in the hands of Porre, it is the General. Surely even you are aware of that, Sir Karsh."
The eyes of Karsh and Glenn locked on each other, engaged in a silent conversation spoken in a language of their own. And for that moment, neither of their gazes shifted away. So intense were the glowers that it seemed as if in this conversation they debated over year after year of bitter rivalry. Tension swelled in the hall that, though spacious, seemed too small to contain the ire. As Glenn's grip on the sword tightened, an Acacia guard fidgeted uncomfortably.
"At ease your men," finally said Karsh to guard. "And let them pass!"
"Yes, Sir Karsh," he replied.
"The General awaits the three--the four of you in the Chamber of the Souls," said Karsh. "Step up to that round dais and it will take you there. I know little of the General's plans, or Lynx's even. Dark and hideous his schemes are I can only expect. And now he has the General completely under his spell. What more can you and I do, where even the Lady herself has failed?"
The guards began to look uneasy.
"Then join us!" urged Glenn. "Your men will follow your orders. Order them up to the Chamber of the Souls and there we will confront Lynx. He may have a grip on power but he alone stands powerless over numbers!"
"Indeed, my men will follow my orders! And like them, I shall follow the General's. Under an oath I once swore to duly carry out orders from my superior. And not now, not ever will I betray that oath."
"If my brother was here today, he would not have hesitated as you do now," said Glenn bitterly.
Karsh fell sullen and on his face the red of anger blushed. He looked as if he were about to speak, but he walked away silently and disappeared into a passage. Soon thereafter, under the order of the leader the guards dispersed.
Much to Serge's dismay, the hall had emptied, save for the four companions. A moment earlier, when he saw the Acacia guards he had not seen in his dream, he thought the light from a star of miracles had finally shone on them. But now hope had forsaken him and was lost in the brooding of yellow in the hall. And alone stood the dais; a protrusion that looked out of place in the regularity of the hall. Sounds of bats fluttering came from the far ceiling above, a ceiling so tall it reached high above all light and sight. But in this scene, another chapter of his story revealed before him, as if its words had been penned long before he was born into this world. He felt helpless and dejected as he gazed about to understand that even the stones that made the walls and floors seemed sad and forlorn.
Kid walked up a short flight of steps and on the top of the dais she stood. On it again marked the symbols of the faith of the dragonians--six rings in the corners of a hexagon-- from which pale blue light glowed. The rest followed. But no longer did Serge try to break the sequence of revelations, for no longer he had any strength left to do so. He wearily walked the path that the pages of destiny had already laid for him, and let his life take its rightful course. As he stepped up onto the dais, he resigned himself to fate.
A pillar of light wrapped them in its brightness, and the companions found themselves drifting up at great speed, like arrows they whizzed towards the rock hard ceiling far above. They did not crash into it, but through it and above of the tower of the fort they burst. Flesh rubbed stone, the strange feeling of which tickled their skins, hearts and their minds. And even higher into the sky and quicker they shot, towards a lone floating structure in the backdrop of blue. Thin wisps of mists thrust and rolled aside, as if shy of their quick coming. The floating structure fell hurriedly on them, but to no harm they came. Rather, they emerged safely on its level ground and there they ended their mystical flight.
The cold of air suddenly bit them, as ice fell on them and crushed them under its weight. For they now stood in heaven, and around and above they saw only the blue where here and there a jewel of the night sky twinkled. They stood where the clouds would drift if they would form, but only thin mists passed through them, thin as the air they now breathed. Before them they saw two great doors and on it the weaving of gold ridges. On its frame marked characters of the dragonians' tongue, and scripts with different strokes. But to all, the Chamber of the Souls, those words must mean. To the sides of the great doors stood two grey statues of dragons, like keepers of the doors and guardians to a chamber within. Piercing through their eyes was a cold, hard glare that terrified the hearts of one, as of a grave warning to the trespasser of his or her unwarranted presence.
"Oi!" said Kid. "What the bloody hell just happened?"
She peered over the edge and caught herself a panoramic view.
"Wow! Bugger!" she exclaimed. "We're so high up! Is this thing floating?"
"Did it feel like your body passed through the floor just now?" Leena asked, rubbing her arms in the cold.
"This sure is some fort," Kid remarked. "Eh, Serge?"
Serge remained speechless not for the magic he just experienced but for the darkness that was growing in his heart.
"You alright, Serge?" said Kid. "You've been acting all weird. Who knows what's up ahead, so just stay on your toes, eh?"
Serge nodded.
"Come on, let's go!" said Kid with a rare smile.
Serge approached the great doors as they opened his eyes into a dark, blue-lit chamber within.
Serge walked into the last scene of his ominous dream, whilst he wondered if he did walk into the last in his life.
He now found himself in the Chamber of the Souls, where mystical rituals must have once been performed, and from where a power unknown must have been unleashed in some hidden past. Along the walls murals painted and told more stories, but hardly visible in the eerie dimness. Six dragon statues stood erect on the ground, aligned at the corners of a hexagon, each facing a pedestal set at the perfect center of the hexagon. On the ground, a groove of white, pulsating light ringed each statue's feet, and one more ringed the base of the pedestal. And so it was here they saw once more, for the last time perhaps, the symbol of the faith: six rings around a seventh, each of the six joined to the seventh by another groove of light. The stolen Dragon Tear glowing in a light of vivid amethyst blue rested on the pedestal, and pulsed in synchrony with the grooves of light on the ground.
Lynx stood behind the Dragon Tear, gazing emptily across the chamber at the four who entered. At nowhere his eyes rested, yet at all four companions they carefully scrutinized. No smile he wore on his solemn face and no hint of his thoughts showed from behind that closed mind. And thus by doing nothing, this feline beast injected the fear of unknown into one who stood in his presence. This fear, like the slow trickle of a stream, rolled down from Serge's mind and very gradually soaked his trembling flesh in terror.
But General Viper smiled as the great doors closed behind the four companions.
"Finally," Lynx exclaimed. "We've been expecting you. Welcome back, Kid."
"Hah!" Kid yelled triumphantly. "That poison of yours ain't going to knock me down!"
"I see you have not let me down," he said with a wry smile.
"You bloody bastard! I will have your life today!"
Kid flashed her dagger, but the general spoke, his sword already poised for strike.
"I have nothing personal against you," spoke the general earnestly. "But anyone who hinders our plan must be eliminated. I am rather sorry about that."
"General!" Glenn demanded. "What is going on?"
"Glenn," said the general. "This need not concern you now. One day, you will understand."
"I will not understand if you do not tell me, General, Sir," Glenn said, his voice trembling.
"You need only to know that Porre's downfall will come to them swift. Once we have the key to the Frozen Flame--"
"The legendary Frozen Flame? I beg your utmost pardon, Sir!"
"You are mistaken. It is no legend. Its powers lie locked away in the Sea of Eden. And with it I shall command Porre's downfall."
Glenn went speechless, as if even he were swayed by the general's sincerity.
"You must trust me, Glenn. Surely it is not too much of a sacrifice, is it?"
"But trust Lynx I do not, General. Ask anyone, and he will tell you Lynx plots evil that he does not speak."
Then Lynx finally spoke.
"General, you need not stand up for me. Sir Glenn, if you have brought down an entire kingdom with your own hands, then you will understand the general's motivation. However plenty the sacrifices he has made for the people of El Nido, the general has never slept with a restful mind. Fifteen years ago, Porre formed an alliance with the dragoons El Nido with a vision to tear down monarchies and reshape the world. But without the general's authority, Porre put the dragoons at the front-line, and using the dragoons they took out the majority of Guardia's defences. It was then that Porre wheeled in their arsenal of cannons. They unleashed firepower so terrible that the castle of Guardia crumbled in its destruction. And at least two companies from the dragoons perished. But, Porre won the war without a scratch."
Glenn remained silent, as if he did not how to respond. The general had lowered his sword as he did his head, as if in guilt he now dwelled.
Kid interrupted. "Oi! Glenn, wake up! These buggers are just sweet talking you!"
"I want to know, General, Sir, if what Lynx said is true?" asked Glenn.
A while later, the general lifted his head and regarded Glenn.
"It is, Glenn. It was I who agreed to the alliance and indirectly left the dragoons at Porre's disposal, although it was also I who pulled out of the alliance after the war. Needless to say, Porre harbored bitter hatred towards El Nido. It has been our territorial advantage that has protected us against their invasion for the past decade. But as their firepower grows, I fear our natural barriers will not keep their hunger out. Long have I wished to face Porre before their rotten values set foot upon our shores, but I will not send my men to die in a pointless fight. For Porre is far too strong in numbers and weapons. My only hope now lies in the Sea of Eden.
"I am grateful to Lynx for speaking for me, the very person who told not me to speak for him. Can you not see why I trust the fate of the dragoons to him?"
Lynx smiled. "There is little need for accolades. I am but a demi-human in many's eyes who deserves no credibility and deserves little of such gratitude. But I have no wish for a fine man like you be misunderstood. It has been my honor to have gained your trust, but regretfully speaking, it has been to your own detriment."
Lynx disappeared from where he stood and appeared behind the general. Casually, he plunged a dagger into the general's back. The general startled, his eyes wide open in shock.
"Fare you well, General, Sir."
"L-Lynx!" the general struggled. "You traitor!"
"General!" cried Glenn.
Lynx yanked brutally his weapon from Viper's back. Blood spilled and General Viper fell immediately to his knees, moaning in pain. Glenn rushed to his side and held the general from falling.
"You were extremely useful in helping me make my way around these islands," Lynx said calmly without remorse. "I appreciate your help, General. I no longer, however, have any need for you. This fort shall serve as a fine grave marker for you and the rest of your dragoons. May you rest in peace."
"M-My dragoons?" choked the general. "Why involve them if you had decided only to dispose of me?"
"Your dragoons would be hindrance to my plans, general. I will not have them set loose like wild creatures on the soils of El Nido, while I achieve my purposes in the Sea of Eden. Do you not think it would be more appropriate for my own people to take control of the situation?"
"Porre...!" said the general, his strength fading. "Forgive me, Riddel. Daddy has failed you." He drifted away into unconsciousness, unresponsive to the desperate calls of Glenn. Leena scurried over and with her Element beads she cast healing magic, but none could revive him.
"Do not waste your time," said Lynx. "Do you think I would let him wake?"
"You beast!" cried Glenn.
He laid the general tenderly on the ground. Thereupon, metal rang in the silence as Glenn drew his sword, the clear shrill of it resonating with his ferocity in the chamber walls. Tears welled up in his eyes as upon the fading of the last echoes of ringing metal he roared his fiercest battle cry. Now, poised for revenge, Glenn stormed down towards Lynx and dealt the opening slash as he threw his sword downwards for a diagonal cut. Lynx stepped aside, swift as the fall of the blade. The miss fueled Glenn's rage, and with limitless energy surging in his veins and powering the engines of his limbs, he swung fast and hard his blade at Lynx' neck. Lynx hopped backwards, and with the squint of his depthless eyes and a curl of his lips he challenged his adversary. Two strokes Glenn had dealt, yet not once Lynx had used his tall, mighty scythe he bore on steadily on his shoulder. With fury gathered at the hilt of his sword, Glenn answered the challenge and thrust with his might his steel towards Lynx's heart. But only through thin air his blade shyly whooshed, for Lynx had read his move and disappeared from where he stood. Only a moment later, he appeared standing behind the Dragon Tear. The light from the Dragon Tear glowed in his face, and light of grim satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.
"I would not fight here if I were you, lest I incur the wrath of the Six Dragon Gods." In an arrogant gesture, Lynx spread his arms as if he were about to embrace in them the statues of the six dragons, as if they all belonged only to him.
"What rubbish!" screamed Kid. "You're going down!"
She bolted towards Lynx and directed the dagger to his chest. He retreated and caught her swiftly by her wrist. Then using her momentum, he twisted about his feet and flung her against one of the six statues. Kid crashed hard into the statue and there she transformed her pain into the dirtiest of vulgarities. Wretchedness dogged her expression while she recovered. Her left arm throbbed with a dull ache, but in her mind a worse pain seared--the failure to deal fair revenge onto her worst enemy. In the dim blue chamber, she saw in her eyes the red of fire and through them the dark silhouette of a figure that must be taken to its grave. And while its might and power overwhelmed her, she remained determined to fell her arch-enemy.
Drawing on her years of experience in combat, Kid lunged and attempted a swipe at his neck. Deception must be defeated with deception, for this battle was no battle of brute strength but one of wits. As the leap took her floating in the air and as the world around her seemed to slow to a crawl, she reached her left hand to the back of her skirt and remove effortlessly from a hidden fold a wooden dart. And while she kept concealed the simple sleight from the enemy's eyes, the crafty cat-human had her every movement followed and her intentions predicted. The elegant curves of Kid's dagger missed her target by a good measure, but Kid knew the blow was yet to come until the next stroke. As she landed softly on her feet, she jerked her left shoulder as if she were about to unleash clever surprise unto her enemy. Indeed Lynx began to make his turn to avoid her underhanded assault, and he turned towards a direction that was to her delight. Kid chose not to reveal the dart but entrusted the next blow to her dagger. Back into the zones of critical damage she pulled her dagger, and rightly went for a strike at her enemy's eyes. Lynx responded quickly nonetheless, but too late to avoid the trim of furs of his furry face.
And there the momentum of battle halted as quickly as it began.
Lynx inhaled discontentedly as he stroked his cheek, as if in nursing a painful injury. "You're more trouble than I thought," he grumbled with that little hint of sarcasm. "But do you really think your skills are superior to mine?"
"We'll find out!" Kid taunted furiously, eager to make the next slash a fatal one.
But Lynx paid no heed to Kid, and instead turned his attention to Serge. A keen interest began to glow in those expressionless eyes, and like a blue flame it appeared, burning with a dark, hideous passion beyond the reckoning of a young mind as Serge's. Yet, Serge found himself mesmerized by the beauty of the burning flames, and soon he found himself thrilled, even emotional. With his consciousness he tried to resist what must be the binding of a terrible spell made to compel one against his wishes. But only that much he could attempt before his will crumbled to weariness and the power of the enemy. Soon his feet began a deliberate walk towards the dragon tear.
"Serge!" yelled Kid. "What are you doing?"
So befuddled by Serge were Glenn and Leena, that they exchanged glances and wondered what should be done.
"You should not resist, Serge," said Lynx. "For this is just fate."
Then, Serge felt his muscles loosened and a formless weight lift.
"Serge," Lynx's continued slowly. "Have you ever questioned who you really are?"
At last Serge stopped before the Dragon Tear, and on the opposite of it stood Lynx. Powerless against the darkest of foul will bent upon him, Serge could only do as much as gaze and stare hard into the crystal Tear, even if by its vivid glow it burned his eyes.
"Oi! Serge!" Kid yelled repeatedly, but like before her voice began to fade.
"What has been the significance of your existence up until now?" said Lynx said. "On that ominous day ten years ago, the boundary of space and time was torn, and like you, part of me, in fact, died...
"You cannot defeat me, Serge," Lynx said. "This is because denying me is the same as erasing your very existence."
"Don't be taken in by his rubbish, Serge!" Kid's yell had become as soft as a murmur. "This guy's full of it!"
"We'll see about that," Lynx said. "There are two sides to every coin. Life and death... Love and hate... They are all the same."
"What'd you say!?" Kid yelled. "Talk some sense, will you!"
Serge had just heard the last of voices and his ears now failed to function, as if within a vacuum they had been tightly wrapped and sealed. Even his own heartbeat and breathing were no longer audible, as if he had lost them like he would lose his life. Indeed, he began to feel breathless, though he could make no effort to ease the torture. His limbs had frozen, and like the cast stone of a statue they refused to even twitch. His vision, still locked intently on the glowing Dragon Tear, narrowed and dimmed until he saw only the brilliance of amethyst blue burning like a fiery moon in the darkened sky. And the longer he stared, the clearer he saw the reflection on the crystal Tear his terrified face.
Suddenly, he felt as if his whole body blew up into a thousand torn chunks. Fire seared and ice crunched and the very agony of that inexplicable pain crushed his mind. He screamed in his heart but he could not shout. He struggled with his mind but he could not move. He wanted out, and he wanted all of these to end this instant, even if he had to lose his miserable life. In the short instant that he desperately wished for death, the reflection of his own face swapped to that of Lynx. Then, pain expelled itself from his soul with an aftershock so excruciating he fell onto his knees. Sounds began to creep back into his world, and his world began to fill his vision once more. His breath returned to normal, as did fortunately his fragile life. Yet from the back of his mind, the memory of the devilish work rippled throughout his muscles and fingers.
But shock seized him when he saw Kid on the opposite side of the Dragon Tear. She helped up another figure obscured by the brilliance of the Dragon Tear. She held his shoulders and comforted him like a lost child. Further behind her, Glenn and Leena stood, puzzled by the events that had taken place before them, but they all had their attention on this mysterious figure. In the closed room, a cold wind stirred and chilled his bones.
Guided by an unnerving feeling, Serge thought to examine himself. To his dismay, he saw that he now owned a pair of paws, its claws sharp and glazing against the dull gleam from the dragonian crystal. His arms grew a layer of thick, brown fur. Over his now muscular built he donned this dark uniform, a mark of a top military official from the nation of Porre. When he took a peek at the mysterious figure opposite the Dragon Tear, he saw a young seventeen-year-old boy who once loved his red bandana and his swallow, but now seemed dazed and spellbound. A plethora of emotions slammed Serge and stirred in his mind a torrent of utter confusion. Suddenly he knew anger, hatred, disgust, sadness, loneliness, vengeance, concern, worry, nervousness, anxiety though he did not understand the mess of it all. Yet in all these he knew certainly this:
Serge was now Lynx, and vice versa.
Serge, or rather, Lynx retreated as shook his head in utter disbelief.
"Serge! What's wrong!?" Kid shook that imposter Serge by his shoulders. Then, with a fiery gaze fanned by ire, Kid turned to the real Serge, hidden in Lynx's body. "Lynx!" she cried. "What have you done to Serge?"
Her words shattered his heart. Tears welled in his new pair of eyes.
"Serge? You alright?" Kid turned back to that imposter Serge, and continued to shower the imposter with her love and concern.
That Serge struggled to his feet with a smile of relief. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm just fine, Kid."
So it was this moment that it struck Serge, like a thunderous bolt, jolting his back stiff. He did not--or would not--stab Kid, as his dream had foretold. Rather, Lynx would, while dressed and that new, cleansed look that his companions still call Serge. The real Serge knew he must warn Kid to stay away from the imposter Serge, but when the real Serge tried to speak, he managed only a feeble growl. He had not yet grown accustomed to his new feline frame that he had been forced into, and most of all, he could not quite use his new mouth.
That Serge regarded the real Serge with a scornful smile. "What are you doing, Lynx?" he gladly emphasized. Then he said to Kid. "Now's your chance, Kid! Kill him!"
"Yeah!" Kid said eagerly. "I know."
Kid walked towards Lynx, her elegant dagger gripped in her hand. Glenn drew his sword and Leena drew her dagger. His friends knew only the enemy of his body, the enemy which they must destroy regardless of the friendly soul within. The thought of his own situation irked and hurt him that he wanted to cry.
"This is the end of you, Lynx!" Kid said, her eyes squinting with pleasure. "Say your prayers!"
But the real Serge found nothing he could say, whether or not he now had the ability to articulate them into legible words. He was alone, outcast and ostracized by his own friends who now harbored rage against him. He was dazed, shocked and utterly helpless. Trapped, surrounded by three powerful opponents bent on fighting and defeating him, he was inching towards a certain doom. Even then, to fight his own friends would be beyond his own will, while his control of it lasted! Yet at least he must defend himself for now, and live this day so that he may seek another to clear his name. The real Serge gave a glance at his scythe, bore its weight in his hands and braced himself for a difficult escape.
But Kid was fast. With a swift bolt, fleeting like a weightless shadow, Kid reached the side of the real Serge, and thrust her dagger into his abdomen before he had a moment more to think. And by the time he did, Kid had left beyond the range of his powerful scythe, and was back safe where the imposter Serge stood.
The real Serge, Lynx, fell to his knees. His heart hurt more than the wound did.
"You did it, Kid," said the imposter Serge.
"Yeah," said Kid.
Lynx regarded up at Kid thoughtfully.
"Now finish him!" demanded the imposter. "What's wrong? Settle it once and for all. Here, hand me your dagger"--and the imposter snatched from Kid her weapon--"I'll finish him off."
Lynx growled. "No, don't give him that!" he tried to articulate but failed miserably.
"Watch this, Kid!" said the imposter. "I'll avenge Lucca for you! Die, Lynx!"
"Wait!" halted Kid, and the look in her eyes quickly became wary.
"What, Kid? He's your foe, isn't he?"
"How do you know Lucca's name?"
"What are you talking about, Kid?" asked the imposter.
"Not once did I ever mention Lucca's name to you, Serge."
The imposter raised his brows and then smiled.
"No!" Kid shifted her glances to and from Serge and Lynx. "Don't tell me you're..."
The real Serge sprang to his clawed feet, but the wound in his abdomen took him down to his knees two steps later. He was never to reach them in time. With as little remorse as dealing General Viper his stab, the imposter Serge thrust cleanly the dagger into its owner. Kid grimaced, but she made no sound, as if she had discovered too late her errs and had resigned to its grave consequences.
Only Leena shrieked in terror.
The imposter with his eyes shut gave a soft, satisfying moan, as if of all worldly and beastly desires this thrilled and pleased him most. His lips curled into a twisted grin whilst he grinded the dagger and took delight in dealing torture unto an already helpless victim. And further into Kid he forced and wound the dagger, as if he sought to implant it in her. Kid who had with all her strength kept the agony sealed behind her lips finally let out a restrained cry. She could hold back no longer those tears of pain, and out of her eyes they burst rolling down her cheeks. Almost Serge felt a violent pain in his chest, as if into his heart the dagger probed and bored. At last, when Kid, with what strength she had left, cast the imposter a bloodshot glance of terrible hate, Lynx yanked brutally the soaked dagger so that in that instant blood poured and gushed forth.
"Serge! Why?" Glenn shouted in dismay, his sword drawn to meet the traitor.
"You're Lynx..." said Kid her last words.
Kid fell to her knees, her hands gripping her wound; only a moment later she knelt in a pool of her own blood. Then, she fell forward and crashed onto the floor, sprawling and motionless.
"Y-You are Lynx?" Glenn regarded Lynx and Serge.
"Oh, my god!" cried Leena remorsefully.
"Quiet!" Serge ordered. He raised a hand and no longer than a fleeting moment of a wink from his hand sprang bolts of empty darkness to both Leena and Glenn. In an instant they both were knocked out cold.
The imposter Serge bent and stroked a hand through Kid's hair. He picked up the lock of her ponytail to his nose and relished in its raw smell of sweat and toil. Then, as if suddenly enraged, with a strong jerk he pulled her head up by her ponytail. Like a deranged madman he grinned and then strained his voice into her ears, "I could send you to see Lucca!" But at that threat, the imposter released his grip on her hair and let her head fall heavily onto the ground.
The real Serge in Lynx's body watched helplessly as each of his friends fall, and tears stream. He had played out his entire dream, but with no will to alter what he knew. He was weak and he was useless, so he told himself. He could not save his loved one, and had failed to save his friends. He fell into a state of dejection and had lost all will to live, for he deserved no life for failing his companions. With that thought, he released his grip on his abdominal wound and let life drain from the body that did not belong to him.
The imposter walked to Lynx with all intent to gloat. "Look at yourself, Serge! I mean, Lynx!"
Serge cast the imposter Serge a glance.
"Excellent!" cried the imposter. "The enmity is growing! The only thing pure in this world is enmity! Well then, the time has come for the curtain to fall. Your services are no longer needed. Even your very existence is worthless."
The imposter Serge retrieved the scythe that belonged to him. There he fondled with the magnificent weapon, as if deeply and hopelessly in love with it he was. More and more insane this imposter Serge seemed to have become, for he placed even his lips against the cold, golden hilt of the tall scythe. Then, his gaze shot to the Dragon Tear, where upon the pedestal it still rested. The light in the room had dimmed following the completion of the ceremonial exchange, but within the Tear a glow continued to pulse. The imposter hurried to the Dragon Tear and with his hand he lifted the crystal high into the air.
"Finally, I have the key!" he proclaimed loudly. "The key into the Sea of Eden! The key to the gate of fate! The time has finally come for the Frozen Flame to awaken!"
The Dragon Tear began to shimmer. Quicker it began to pulse, and brighter was its light. A huge blast suddenly rocked the chamber, upon which the standing dragon statues of six shattered into worthless stones. Dust and gravel rained down. The crystal Dragon Tear, too, had shattered into blue shards, its brilliant glow forever lost in all its broken pieces. Thereafter, the imposter raised his hand and with his mastery of arcane magic he lifted the real Serge. The real Serge felt his body--Lynx's body--tear once more, but he had not the strength or will to defy death.
"Now, let love bleed! Darker and deeper than the seas of hell!"
Darkness soon claimed the real Serge. And little he could remember of the path he took tumbling down a long, dark abyss, save for that smile of euphoria he could wear during the eternal journey.