Note to the readers,

A lot of people on various Tales forums have asked why Kratos didn't go get the unicorn horn ect. Well this chapter explains why, and introduces that dark twist I was mentioning. This is the second to last chapter, I may write an epilogue, we shall see how this goes. Oh ummm the chant on the top is in Angelic (yes I made up an Angelic Language I have no life, I'm very well aware of that fact) and the English translation is on the bottom. In advance I apologize for those whose languages my false language may resemble… and I apologize if this has any swear words in some other real language that I am not aware of. Bleh I'm evil, two cliff hanger chapters side by side but I need to split this chapter with the last, it's bad form I know but I couldn't think of any other safe point to cut the story off.

Kasan

MoonCannon: Working on it, trying to write more… but just out of curiosity what are you going to do when I'm done?

ArchNavy: I've always liked Lloyd Aurion myself, has a pleasant sound. Unfortunately this chapter is pure angst… I can't think of any funny parts here.

Homocidal Snowbunnies: Yah… new chapter? Heh I gotta ask you too… what are you going to do when I run out of story?

GameCubeGirl1: Thank you for your praise and continuous reviews. This is another sad chapter by the way… though when the story's done I hope to have a slightly hopeful ending to it all.

PhoenixFire1389: Quite a screen name lol. Yes I am evil because I use a clifie (AKA cliffhanger ending)… and I'm guilty of doing it again… so does that make me doubly evil or just evil overkill? As for Anna's condition you don' have a clue to just what it is, though you will after you read this.

Chapter 44

Silver paths

Pressure against every inch of his face, he moaned, wondered what in hell could make him feel like that. It was just like being underwater...

His eyes snapped open, and his mind which had been chained down shrugged off those bonds forced on it. He shuddered as sensation came back to him, as memory returned. He had been resting in his tent, allowing Lloyd to tend to what needed tending without an audience, he had closed his eyes... and had been hit with enough mana to guarantee anyone else would have been out for a half year at least. As for why there was water all around him. The oppressive sticky pressure that stretched from chest to toes told him that someone had dragged him through the mud. That same someone was holding him by the hair, ready to pull his head out of the puddle they had put it in the second they saw bubbles come to the surface. He reached up with a hand, swatted the protozoan's snout and the teeth loosed their grip in his hair. He pulled himself to his feet, whipped off what he could of the filthy water and staggered to his feet.

"How long?" He croaked, catching himself as he slipped and turning around to look around in the clearing. Brown, there were little islands of brown, patches of root that poked out from mud and waters. Past that the rest of the world was a indeterminate shade of grey. Ice covered half of the puddles around him, frost slashed down the sides of trees, cold made his breath steam. What ever time it was, the clouds obscured the sun, what little bleached out light that was coming from the skies was only to see by and offered no warmth.
A quick look at those clouds told him that the rains would come again. Gods were the spirits trying to take them all in a great flood? That's what it felt like these days; he whipped the mud off of his face and turned to the shivering protozoan.

"Where is he?"

Noishe backed up a step, shaken by the desperation in the seraphim's eyes.

"Did you see anything at all?"

Noishe whimpered, shook his head frantically.

Muttering a few curses the seraphim worked off his tunic. The thing, once a shade of grey and disgustingly light was now brown and heavy. He fumbled with the buttons' cursed what ever guilt that had made him accept Dirk's offered clothes, and finally just ripped the damn thing in half and let it fall to the ground. Noishe closed his eyes, adverted his face, and put his massive ears over his face in an attempt to shield himself from the sight of Kratos' angelic transformation. For once Kratos didn't care for the protozoan's discomfort, he drew his wings, and after the pain had passed he dove into the weave. With his wings out he could better tap into the weave, could triple his reach, and using the weave as a kind of sense he followed the pulsing strains of life and power looking amongst the writhing bits of power and life until he found the one that pounded with a similar rhythm as he did. In this way he searched for his son more surely then he would if he were to wade in the track less mud or glide over the weeping trees.

He came back to himself with a searing headache. The residue thoughts of others that filled his mind were composed of fear, cold, and fury. Something had blocked him, all he could sense was that Lloyd was alive and when he had tried to catch a glimpse of the world from his son's eyes something had come in and shoved him out. And whatever it had been had been furious, protective... and hungry. It's hunger was a whirling vortex, a vortex that mimicked the black whirlpools that marked the various un-dead monsters he had let his mind brush against.

And whatever that thing was had his son...

He felt as if his mind was on fire, yet it was a slow fire, allowing for reason to sift through like smoke between the cracks of a building's walls. For a time, he knew in that detached corner of him that had always been with him since his first day as a seraphim, he had only so long before that slow fire ate him alive and took down everything around him.

"Noishe, find his scent!" Kratos snarled a sharp gesture on his part and he knocked the tent down with a gust of wind mana. Not the best way to do things but he was in a hurry. He picked up the bits of tent, wound the canvas around all their possessions that had happened to be in the tent and flew up to one of the trees. He lodged all of it in one of forks of that tree, slashed the trunk three times with his flamberge, and whirled onto the protozoan who was sniffing around in the mud with a slight grimace on his face. Noishe then threw his head back, howled, then dashed off to the south east...

Towards the Desian camp.

He kicked off the ground, flew. He allowed the protozoan to lead, his mind empty but of the mental touch he had with that monster. Fear, panic, terror, and rage built in him, he could almost taste smoke in the air and if he had but looked he would have seen why. The flamberge in his hand, the fires trapped in the steel, they writhed in a mad dance and leaked past that steel and set the air around it to smoldering.

Xxx xxx xxx xxx

He was cold, so cold... No longer in Momma's arms he awoke on a flat rock set down with care in the exact center of that stone. He whimpered, rubbed his oww, it was sticky but not so wet. He frowned, looked around the muddy clearing, there weren't any trees here and the mud was a funny red-brown color. He frowned, remembered the last place that had been like that where all the scary men had been and the light... He shivered at that memory, gulped down on tears, but as if his near crying had called her Momma came back into the clearing. She looked so worried, and her feet not even squishing in the mud she came to him.

But then why would feet squish in the mud if she had wings? She didn't walk now, she flew. She flew to his side, a nice warm fuzzy blanket in her hands and he smiled as she bundled him up and drew him close. He opened his mouth to say something, to ask when Daddy was coming, but she only put a finger to his lips to shush him. When her finger pulled away from his lips a small glint of red was on it, a drop of liquid ruby. He looked up, confused, licked his lips and tasted something hot and yucky in his mouth.

Once not so long time ago he had picked up Daddy's shiny stick. He always carried it around lots and he had almost gone out the door without it! He had run after Daddy, the shiny thing in his hands, blissfully ignorant of Mommy's shriek or Daddy's horrified eyes. Daddy had come to him, caught him before he fell on the rug and tripped and had taken it from his hands, he had looked lotses scared. Mommy had looked like she was gunna yell.

"Kratos how many times have I told you to not leave your knives lying around!"

"I didn't!" Daddy growled, sounding just like Noshy when he got his tail tugged. "He must have gone into my packs to fetch it. Lloyd never ever play with Daddy's knife! See, you hurt yourself!"

It was then Lloyd noticed the red ow on his arm, he kissed it hoping the ow would go away and tasted icky stuff in his mouth.

The same taste that was in his mouth now.

"Momma..." He tried to talk, but when she looked at him all his worlds fell away. She opened her arms, and he with a smile crawled into her embrace. He was safe, and the funny smell and taste weren't all that bad. He smiled looked up at her with adoring eyes, and she smiled back and pulled a strand of hair from his eyes. He blinked at the red stuff that fell into his eyes, ignored it, and sighed as Mommy drew the blanket around them both to keep them warm from the nasty rains. He was safe, home, and that's all that mattered.

Xxx xxx xxx xxx

They were going back, slowly picking their way back to... To where he never wanted to go, back to where Anna had died.

Rain plastered his clothes to him, threw his hair into his eyes, and he made no efforts to push that hair aside. He dug, felt the earth give way under his nails. It was little more then sludge now, so saturated by the waters the very every mineral was draining out of the earth leaving this layer of filth that gave way under his hands. A normal man would have tired; a normal man would have worked his hands bloody at this task, soft earth or no. His hands, they did not bleed, were not coated with his own blood. Sobbing, his tears ripped from his face by the eternal rains, he dug and dug. He scarred the earth only to watch numbly as water filled the pit and brought with it more mud. He cursed a litany of curses and hatred poured from his lips as he worked the earth that tried to undo his labors.

So much blood so much that was not his own, it covered him in a scarlet robe. And the heavy hands that fell from heaven ripped it off of him so that it mingled with the worthless filth all around him...

Swallowing Kratos managed to keep the contents of his stomach down. He shoved that memory in the farthest corner of his mind and kept going forward. He snarled and swatted aside one of the lower branches of a tree, Noishe sniffed at the air, then stopped in the middle of a puddle. The protozoan was so affected by the chill he had lost the ability to feel anything it seemed, and now was only walking at Kratos' order. Any time the seraphim would turn his gaze away from Noishe the protozoan would sit and pant. It was too loud, the water and rains too fierce for even Kratos to hear the sound. It was the frantic clouds of white that told him what was going on.

Even though he was unaffected by the cold and fatigue Kratos was well aware of his companions mortal limitations. He was also aware of how fiercely those limitations would constrict on his son's vitality.

"Can you go on?"

Noishe whimpered, lay down in a puddle, and that was answer enough for the seraphim. He met the protozoan's eyes and Noishe understood, he understood to not go on was to be left behind. Valiantly the dog shaped creature tried to find it's paws, but after one attempt only made him sink deeper in the mud he gave up with a half hearted whine.

Gods, he was killing his last friend in an attempt to save his son, he was a monster for that. And even as he thought that he knew he could not stop, he had to keep going so long as he could sense life in Lloyd through their link he had to keep going. He would not abandon his son no matter the cost. And it seemed as if Noishe felt that way too, the protozoan whined, jerked his snout in the direction that they had been traveling. Kratos grimaced, knelt in the filth and cast a quick spell over Noishe. Fire mana, healing mana, the first hissed around Noishe, settled around him like a cloak and banished the cold, the second poured into him, tended what damage it could offering an energy that would carry the recipient through a cold night. Then he was gone, walking away and trying not to feel those grateful brown eyes bore into him. Noishe should not have been grateful, should not have had accepted such a token gesture, yet he had.

Noishe accepted, forgave him, and perhaps agreed with his motives. It still did not make things easier.

Xxx xxx xxx xxx

It was like walking into memory; he could hear the cry of seagulls, taste the salt laden air and hear the lap of waves. He closed his eyes, blocked out the sight of the wooden floors and walls with their ghostly white drapes that flapped in the winds. He could feel the caress of the wind on his skin, and it was the lack of intensity to that feeling that told him he was on the edge of a spell. He growled softly, fought down the power and its tempting images. When he opened his eyes he was back in the mud soaked clearing, his feet literally sinking in the soft earth. He grimaced, lifted a booted foot, worked it free then fought the other one loose. It was noisy way to go, and though his wings were out the rains had made them too heavy for him to fly. They dripped and hung limp, it was like wearing a second cloak, except this cloak hurt when it bumped into tree.

And there were plenty of trees all around.

He was close, so close, and fighting down pleasing images of the past he walked from a pleasant dream to nightmare. At first there was nothing wrong, he saw nothing in the clearing, it appeared as empty as any of the others. A bit of motion from a rock, a rock he had flattened or rather his mana had obliterated a few days ago caught his attention.

He blinked, a silver light flashed over his eyes, he wiped at his face with a mud soaked hand…

Yet there was no mud on his hand, why should there be? Working on the boats left him from time to time with tar on his tunic and he was normally careful enough to avoid getting the stuff on the rest of him. He blinked at another bit of sunlight flashed into his eyes, frowned in pain, but it was soon forgotten. Anna turned to him, smiled, resting in a bundle of blankets was Lloyd, sound asleep. That was strange, very strange, when Lloyd slept he normally was in his own bed and when he decided to take a nap on the floor Noishe laid besides him.

Something was wrong, even as Anna embraced him, kissed him on the cheek the feeling of wrongness would not go away. She blinked at the sight of his wings, frowned a little bit, and that told him that it wasn't just something that was wrong.

The whole situation was wrong.

This was, in all appearances their house in Izoold, and yet Lloyd had not been this old while they had lived there. A wind stirred and his sparrow tail cloak flapped, and that too was wrong. He never had worn his mercenary cloak while they had lived in Izoold.

But most damning of all was Anna herself; he had dug her funeral pit with his own hands, had held her limp body to his own in the desperate hope that she would come back to him.

Knowing that his Anna was dead, even as he watched this imposter stand before him…. Gods it hurt. It made him bleed from his soul to see Anna apparently whole, even when he knew the truth that her body lay in the soft clay below his feet. From pain rouse anger, a fury that ran in him like fire and made him draw his sword.

Anna, this fake Anna went to Lloyd. She 'tried' to go to Lloyd. He growled, and though the mud almost made him lose his footing, intercepted her. And I was in the light of his wings that the illusion, the final illusion died. The things skin was a pale white, the color of bloodless skin, it was wrapped in a gown of moss, its wounds oozed green and yellow liquid like sluggish blood. Its' brown hair was a length of tangled, twisted, and mud splattered chaos. The whole thing, from head to toe was a standing dedication to death, decay. It cocked its' head to the side as if to ask why he was standing in its way. The monster's lips moved, yet a gash in its throat done by some scavenger- told him why he heard nothing. He could see the rotted voice box and slashed vocal cords, and from that gash he could see in the things lungs were filled with water. It was dead, had been dead and by the looks of it -the vague shape of it told Kratos it might have once been a her- since the storms.

"I will not let you take my son from me." He whispered leveling his sword at the abomination. Something nagged at him however, the wounds were familiar. "Go back to the pit that spawned you."

It flinched at his words, reached up with a hand to touch his face. He took a step back; and it again only responded by cocking its ghostly head to the side. Its white glassy eyes bored into his; he could almost hear its confused protest.

"Look at him!" Kratos heard himself scream, by the light of his wings the illusion of Lloyd was banished, or rather the illusion that had masked the true reality of his son's state. He was cut, looked as if he had been whipped with a thorn bush. His face was covered in small slashes and three very nasty looking gashes ran along his son's back. Blood dripped from a bite mark on his son's forehead, and that same blood dripped from the thing's clawed hands and mouth. "Whatever the hell you think you are know that you are not my wife, this is not your son, my wife is dead you hear me! Dead, she died, Kvar killed her!"

"Oh come now Kratos," Hissed a silken voice, he whirled on his heal, as did the monster. Mithos smiled at his ex-lieutenant, his wings and robes were untouched by the rains that fell from the sky. "I've taken all the trouble to bring your wife back and you denounce her? What kind of man are you?"

"Brought her back?" Kratos whispered, and looked at the undead creature, and felt his legs buckle as the truth came onto him with the force of a hammer. "No… this can't be happening…" He wanted to be ill, to scream, and all he could do was slump weakly into the mud.

"She won't die anymore, she's all but immortal old friend, and she's even become a seraphim of sorts." Mithos said with a smirk on his lips, he laughed, and somewhere between one rich adult's chortle his voice changed, grew higher in pitch, shrill. "Show him your wings Anna my dear."

Anna stepped back, stepped out of the light of the angel's wings and again looked as she had in life. Her human face was twisted in terror. She reached and felt herself and knowing the truth. Tears, all illusion, fell from her face and she looked to Mithos with an expression of pure hatred. It was a look that Kratos also sent to the leader of Cruxis way, hatred, it was a raw bleeding hatred that only saw the ancient hero of the Kharlan war as a target.

Mithos seemed ignorant of it all, smug and arrogant as if he had done some great act of good.

"She's immortal, you can dally with her as much as you like brother, and so long as you don't make a show of your wings in front of your son he will never know that she's different. But…" Mithos put a slender finger under his chin and wore a look of mock concern. "There is one little issue of the demon seed isn't there… She'll have to kill people to stay alive, to maintain the illusion that was wove around her and to appease the seed's hunger. That could be a problem couldn't it? But you both love each other, so I imagine you'll find some way to make it work out. After all when you are wed aren't you supposed to support each other and honor each other in life and in death? I guess you'd both be supporting each other in matters of life and death, only a slight difference really. A shame you came here when you did, I had meant to finish the procedure with your son. Think of it as a gift if you will, to coax you back to the fold my brother."

"You bastard!" Kratos hissed, struggling to his feet. "A gift, making a mockery of my wife, killing my son is a gift! If it is a gift allow me to freely return the favor!" He did not need the chant, only made a slight gesture and the very earth rose up to rip Mithos Yggdrasil apart. Shards of curved earth rose out of the mud, slammed into the leader of Cruxis, and the boy angel winced in pain as he was struck with enough force to kill any other man.

"This is the thanks I receive?" Mithos whispered from his prison of stone, with a bit of squirming the boy managed to free an arm and make a sharp gesture. Bolts of lightning blasted into the rock, pounded it into a pile of pebbles, he calmly brushed the dust from his glossy white skin tight tunic and pants. "Is this the thanks I receive for tending to something you did not have the nerve to attend yourself?"

"No," Kratos advanced on the man once called a hero. "This is." He swung his sword, feeling nothing more then the need to cut Mithos in half."

Snarling an oath the boy made a gesture, summoned a purple blade out of nothingness. Flamberge smashed into the Eternal. Fire met the undiluted essence of the cosmos and was turned aside. It was not by the strength of the wielder of Eternal but the power of another being that protected him. Kratos brought the blade around, swinging with both arms, trying in his madness to cut through the Eternal sword. No such luck, again and again that power held him back.

"Damn it Origin, allow me to redeem my self, to protect my own from this monster!" He screamed, not caring that Mithos could hear every word that fell from his lips.

The pact; came that soft voice that shook him to his very bones. I shall not forsake it yet.

"Yet!" Mithos howled, "I have kept my oath, you have no way nor cause to break your oath!"

This I think is cause enough. Origin's voice was cool as the ice shrouded peaks of Falnoir's mountains, and filled with anger. Your oath is broken Mithos Yggdrasil, not the word, but the very spirit has become perverted. Pity filled the Forger's next words. Now is not the time he who shall be the wielder of my power is not yet come to his power, the time though is close.

"You will not forsake me, I shall keep my oath!" Mithos screamed, only silence answered him. Mithos howled in pain as claws sank into his back, snarling the leader of Cruxis looked into the face of death. Death he had made, sculpted, and watched in horror as that dead woman who was technically in his control twisted her claws and made the wound larger. He managed a slight choked gasp when Kratos' blade slammed into his gut, then slashed across his face. The claws released him and he staggered back sporting a massive gash in his back, a cut over his eyes, and a gut wound that burned into him with a ferocity that was matched by the fires that wrapped around Kratos' sword.

But that fire and pain paled in comparison to the fires that burned in Kratos' eyes and Anna's lifeless orbs.

Mithos grunted, staggered back, he wasn't dead, he was kept safe from dieing… but not from pain. He felt the wounds in him already starting to mend by way of Origin's power, but the pain lingered.

One turn deserves another, you have perverted your oath by the means you keep it as have I.

"Damn you all!" Mithos howled a bolt of light rested in his hand. He cast it at the only person he was sure he could hurt; he leveled it at Lloyd's limp form and released it.

"No!" Kratos dove in the way of the light, but was beat to it by Anna. Her lifeless body took the angelic mana, and was sent flying. The seraphim winced as his lover's form smashed into a tree, he whirled on the monster who had done this to him… to them. Mithos lifted the Eternal sword, and gapped in shock as the blade returned to the ethers it had been formed from.

My oath, I hold to the word and no longer the spirit and that spirit is bound to the soul of the seal. The blade will no longer come to your beck and call. Only when I agree with the end you wish to make with power of my sword will it appear before you.

Kratos chuckled at his leader's expression having heard the words too.

"I have told you a thousand times boy, do not play God, there are grave consequences for it." His voice was cool, so much like the tone he had used when mentoring a child with the pure heart that he had come to respect. There was ice in his voice this time, an ice that had never been in his voice before when he had addressed Mithos. Ice was in his soul and the fire of hate in his eyes. Kratos swung his blade, left a gash in the boy's shoulder that mended before the blade had even been free from its sheath of flesh for a second. "Grant me immortality, a god's power, with these I will bring the end of racism and hate, remember asking for that?" The blade smashed into Mithos' leg with enough force to leave bruises. "Tell me boy are you enjoying your immortality, I am." The blade descended, dug into another painful spot then was wrenched out with a crimson spray.

Enough

Kratos sheathed his sword, far from satisfied. Mithos lay twitching in the mud, little more then a beaten dog. He whimpered and groveled from pain, gasped out pleas that he be forgiven. There was no forgiveness in Kratos' soul, only undying hared.

"How long?" Kratos snapped at the air, knowing that Origin would answer to him now. The spirit of creation would be willing to answer his questions instead of Yggdrasil's. "How long will be feel the bite of my blade?"

Until he dies

"Not long enough." Kratos hissed, he looked to his undead wife and wounded son. "It's not long enough."

It will have to serve.

Kratos walked to the boy's side, then turned him over with a sharp kick, with tear filled eyes the boy looked up to his mentor, thinking himself still wounded no doubt.

"Help me Kratos… please…"

"Go to Hell Yggdrasil," Kratos turned from the boy, ignored his pathetic whimpers and half strangled cries for Martel. A child's cries, a false child's cries, for he knew how a true child sounded, he knew the purity of a true child. As a father he knew that one truth.

He went to his son, picked his limp boy from the puddle he had collapsed in, and working his cloak as part blanket part rain coat, Kratos carried his son in his arms. Anna followed behind him, or rather the shell that held the last of her awareness.

And together they walked away from the howling and tortured leader of Cruxis.

Xxx xxx xxx xxx

Noishe growled at Anna, his mane flared and he made move to attack her. Kratos barked a few words in Angelic and the protozoan sat down on his haunches with a whine. He explained the situation as best as he could, and watched Noishe's dog shaped face register confusion, then hate, then sadness. Noishe whimpered at Anna as if to apologize, but wisely did not go to her and kept a distance from her. It was wise, but the pain Anna's lifeless face registered wrung at Kratos' heart. He set Lloyd on Noishe's back and walked besides her trying to keep his own pain from his face. He was surprised when she tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. Having his attention she then -with a gentle hand- she took his wrist, and turned his hand over. Her white eyes met his and she looked at him in a way that should have told him what she wanted.

He hesitantly opened his hand, unclenched his fingers, and tried his best not to stiffen up as a yellow claw bushed against his palm. It took him a second to realize she was writing it was only after the first two words were done, that he came to realize what she wanted. He shook his head, clenched his fingers.

"No, there is a way to restore you to yourself; all I have to do is find it." She forced his fingers to unclench with a strength that surpassed his own, and then wrote another word, and it set his blood to ice. "It won't take long, I promise and…"

Another word, one word that coupled with the previous made him shiver.

Hunger…. Time?

"We have time and…"

No time, must before Lloyd…

"No! I wont do it, I wont kill you twice!"

She looked at him; her whole front was covered in soot and ash. Even her face was scorched away and all that remained whole was her eyes. She met his gaze, reached again for his sleeve. Her hand left bits of scorched flesh, she smelled like rotting flesh, or a slaughter house left a flame. He gulped down on his nausea, ordered himself to remain calm, and again offered his hand.

I not me, not self, kill me

"No." His voice caught in his throat, choked him.

Must.. Mithos put in to kill You Lloyd can't fight it long. Please… must.

"No!" It was a tortured cry of a man hanging over the abyss as he sees his last line coming undone thread by thread. "I wont hurt you, I wont kill you, don't ask that of me!"

"Howl!"

Kratos whipped around and Noishe hopped back as an arrow snapped out of the darkness and two Desian's strolled out of the shadows. A few more seemed to materialize out of nothing, they made a forest of their own, a forest of crossbows and swords. A forest of targets. The seraphim drew his sword; his eyes scanned the Desian's his soul screaming at him to kill them all.

These were Kvar's men; they wore the grand cardinal's colors. One of them, a wizard by his steel staff, stepped away from his fellows.

"On order of Lord Kvar, Kratos Aurion and Lloyd Aurion are to come with us."

Kratos' answer came from the heavens; a bolt of pure light incinerated the Desian so fast the man didn't even have the time to scream.

"That," Kratos hissed. "Is my answer." His wings flared out behind him, they shivered with suppressed power. "As well as this," he flapped them sharply, and three razor sharp feathers fell from his wings and shot across the clearing and imbedded in the throats of three of the archers. "How many men do you have?" He rasped, eyes burning with an insanity that made Noishe gulp and slide a little closer to Anna. "As many as I can kill?"

Leaderless they rushed out of their hiding places, leaderless they attacked with wild abandon, and so they died an undisciplined mob. He cut through them with the ease of a farmer mowing down grain with a scythe. A few screams told him that Anna was had taken one Desian out of the fight. He toned that out as best he could, let his rage pour into him and he released it on these beasts. They fell; their blood a second rain for earth this day. Noishe's howl made him turn, the protozoan's ears were slicked back and he cringed back from Anna. Kratos charged forward, brought his sword around, ad using the flat blocked Anna's claws from killing Lloyd. She let out a great blast of air, an attempted roar or moan of some kind… No the monster threw its challenge at him, and it charged. He blocked the first pass of the claws was grazed by the second, and was able to catch her two handed downward swipe with his blade. Her claws were caught in one of the ridged in his sword, and the mindless beast in control was trying to force the seraphim's arm down.

"Anna!" Kratos barked, his wings shivered as he was ready to cast an angelic spell but could not get himself to release the pent up power. "Anna come back to me!"

She shivered, and slowly unhooked her claws from the edge of his sword. She stood there, silent in a way only the dead could be and she watched as he had checked on Noishe and bound up a wounded paw then checked to on Lloyd. He sighed in relief, their son was still in a deep magic induced sleep. When that was all done Kratos went to look for Anna, he had heard her shuffle of while he was tending Noishe's paw. He found her crouched by a puddle, staring at herself with those empty white eyes. She looked to him, in the struggle his sword had sheared away part of her face, revealed blackened bone, but despite that he could read the desperation that radiated off of her. Despite her mask of blood that was not her own and rot that was slowly destroying her he could see her despair.

And it was then, sensing the beast under her skin, feeling I trying to take control and make her turn on him he lost all his will to deny her any longer.

He sank to his knees besides her, and she looked up at him with a hope, a need, and he could not deny her.

"Tonight, I promise my love, tonight we will end it."

He tried his best not to shiver as she caressed his cheek with a wasted claw, and by the thinnest of margins managed to keep his revulsion to himself.

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Lloyd lay still by the fire, his arms pillowed his head and he was wrapped in a multitude of blankets and his father's cloak. Noishe lay besides him, eyes and awareness closed to the world. The rains would not be coming this night; it had seemed as if the gods were granting them that in the least. There would be no rains tonight. The stars hung above them, a multitude of flashing lights. It was not too different from that night so long ago and yet only four years in the past. She did not hold his hand, but walked close to him. The stars in their eternal indifference to a mortal's pain glowed with a light better suited to two lovers taking a stroll out in the woods.

Damn them, damn Mithos for doing this to him! He shivered in rage, yet it was an impotent rage, he could not strike out against the bastard who was cause of all his pain until this champion came to be. No not a champion, a chosen one. He smirked at the irony of the situation. Here Cruxis picked one innocent to be their Chosen and behind the back of the most powerful organization the Summon Spirits had their own Chosen.

She tugged on his sleeve and he explained his thoughts as best he could, she only shook her head and set a small rain of ash to the ground. He then understood what she wanted. It was time, she wanted this over with. She wanted to die to protect those she loved. He allowed her to take his hand, allowed her wasted fingers to brush against his palm.

Love you… I am sorry

"It was not your fault." He whispered, looking into her destroyed face and again mentally cursing Mithos more pain to his wounds. "I will find and protect this Chosen one of the Summon Spirits, I will have a hand in stopping the Regeneration that is to come… At least for Sylvarant, Tethe'alla's Chosen can go through the process if he is bent on it." Kratos closed his eyes. "I will take care of Lloyd; I will do my best for his sake, and for yours my love."

Noshy

Kratos chuckled. "Yes I will take care of Noishe as well, though he seems to be taking care of me more often then not."

She merely drew a smiley face on his palm, no longer having lips to make the gesture herself. He swallowed, ordered himself not to break down into tears.

You have to stop this… Stop Mithos… Cruxis… Desians… Fix worlds… I want to stay and help but can't…

"I know my love; I understand and don't grudge you this in the least." He gulped. "I was being a greedy bastard and made you wait a few hours, I shouldn't have, and for that I apologize."

Love you

He trembled, and looked to her with tears in his eyes. Shaking he fought his way to his feet. She only looked to the sky, did not rise. He did not draw his sword, did no strike her down with steel. They had agreed that since he did not know how to kill an undead monster without bringing pain that a spell would be cast. His most powerful spell, judgment… the angelic mana would be enough to turn her into little more then ash in a heartbeat. One second of pain and nothing thereafter.

And for him and Lloyd a life of pain a life of loss and an aching emptiness would await them in the dawn.

He'd be damned though if he let her know of that. Closing his eyes he drew his wings, drawing power and allowing the words to fall from his lips.

"Askan fa Derris syi, luas fale gnost si ust magifis! Rerostera undie falier reros shadine, luas fale shads soule. Fair ase sith tus ust Derris Askan. Askanast!"

"Light of holy sky, grace this earth with your splendor! Bring back the purity that has been lost, grace this benighted soul. On swift wings their passing will be way of your holy light! Judgment!"

And the light of the heavens came down, a soft sigh on the wind, and he could not longer see the monster that had taken Anna from him, could only see the blinding light and the flecks of blue feathers that danced on unfelt winds. He shielded his eyes from the glare, and when it was gone… Nothing, the scant grass that had grown on the cliff was simply not there, it was as if every living thing that was in that light was gone. Not even ashes remained… only those feathers; they spun in an eerie soundless dance across the brown earth and grudgingly were pulled down.

He sank to his knees with a gasp of pain, of loss, sank to his knees and felt in the soft earth press against him. His tears traced silver paths down his cheeks; fell into the earth, which in its bloated state rejected them. He gasped, this time in physical pain; he ripped at his pants, fished out the two items that now wafted smoke. On a trembling hand he held Anna's Cruxis Crystal and her Ex-sphere. For one horrid moment he thought they were going to melt in his hand, but there was merely a flash of light, and the flecks of silver blue glowed with a light similar to his wings. Then nothing, the light faded away to little more then a memory. Hesitantly he slipped the stones back into his pocket, and for a long moment he wondered, a howl that belonged to no wolf broke him from his thoughts and set him to running back to the camp, a chill of apprehension in his heat.