Chapter Six: Redemption or Destruction? Part II
Sean glared up at Mike with an intense fury, and Mike merely looked down at him with disappointment. "Well?"
"You…little!" Sean blurted, seething with anger. He shot up, but Mike's fist shot out from the left, striking Sean in the face. Spit flew from his mouth, flying to the right, and Sean followed it, thrown down by the punch. Mike grabbed his robe's lapel and picked Sean back up.
"You have fallen apart, you're not what you used to be, cant you see that?" Mike asked calmly. Sean glared again, and strongly contemplated head butting Mike, but something inside him realized, Mike was serious in asking the question.
"Yes, yes I see that," Sean said.
"Then why do you refuse to do something about it?" Mike yelled.
"I DON'T KNOW!" Sean boomed. Mike stepped back, and set Sean down.
"And there we go," Mike said.
"What?"
"There is no reason to not go and make yourself better, you know it and I know it. Everyone knows it. You are in horrible shape and it's visible, trust me. The others think they're respecting your privacy or something but I know better, I've seen this before. Remember that. You need to go and be alone, somewhere completely away from everything. Just to think," Mike said. He turned his back on Sean, and began walking. "I'll hold down the fort until you're back, and you should get far away from this place. You'll come to your senses eventually, but don't come back until you do, or the evil out there will conquer us all." Then he was gone, into his temporary Wingly home.
Sean stood there for a long time, looking at the doorway where he'd last seen Mike, thinking only two words to himself. He's right.
Sean turned and looked to the South. He'd spend however long he had to in the clearing, away from everything and everyone. The world could wait, nothing dire was happening now. He called upon the powers of the Divine Dragon, but was startled when they didn't come to him.
"What's going on?"
I'm staying here, the Divine Dragon said. You need to be truly alone, not even I can accompany you this time, Sean.
Sean frowned, but after a moment, nodded and agreed. He took off the necklace, having a good idea of where to take it for safekeeping.
He knocked on Charle's door, and with a quick shuffling and creak of wood, Charle opened it, dressed as she always was. "Oh, Sean, what keeps you out so late?"
"…Things," Sean said. "Look, Charle, I need to go on a trip. I have to leave everything here but my sword."
"What?" Charle asked, startled.
"I need to work a few things out, all alone, without even my spirit," Sean said. He held out the chain necklace that held the Dragoon Spirit, and placed it in Charle's hand. She held it for a moment, then looked at Sean.
"May I ask what is so dire to require your total solitude?" She asked.
"No, no I don't think I could tell you," Sean said apologetically. Charle nodded, and then smiled.
"Very well, where would you like to go?" She asked.
"Well I need to get to my home, first of all, but I'll make it myself from there," Sean said. Charle nodded.
"Well then let us go to the long range teleportation pad," Charle said, stepping past a suddenly confused pad.
"What?" He said, quickly following her, it was a short walk to the pad; it was visible from where they were.
"Transporting seven people is a moderate task, but transporting seven people and the power of seven dragons. Now that, Sean, requires the entire city. You alone without your spirit, will take only myself. I shall be weary afterwards, but it will help me sleep tonight," Charle said, smiling.
Sean stepped up between the four curved spires, and Charle put her hands forward. "Please hurry with my friends, and give them some training in that gym, okay?" Sean asked.
"Oh, yes, and how long will you be gone, Sean?" Charle asked.
"…I don't know."
"Ah."
"Should I expect a mirror image of myself at my house?"
"Yes, yes you should."
"Alright," Sean said. Suddenly a glow burst from Charle's fingertips, and surrounded Sean's vision, and when it cleared with a bright flash, he was in his backyard. He looked up through the window to see the images of the television reflecting off them, and walked inside.
Sean had never met face to face with the Wingly that had posed as him. When he found himself face to face, something didn't register right in his brain when the mirror image of himself didn't follow what he did.
"Um, hi," Sean said.
"Greetings," said the disguised Wingly. "I apologize, I didn't realize that we had been relieved of our duties, I shall depart."
"No, no you haven't been relieved, I'm only stopping by, please keep up being me," Sean said. The Wingly nodded, and returned to the living room. Sean walked into the spare bedroom, and unclothed the mattress, and carried it outside. He then walked into the garage and grabbed a long stretch of thin rope.
His plan was to spend as long as he had to in the clearing, forcing himself to focus through training. If all went to plan, he would be able to confront all his problems with a focused manner and quickly find how he truly felt about everything, so all the lies would finally stop. He tied the rope around the rolled up mattress, and strapped it around his back.
He began running, thinking of how his next days, maybe weeks, would be. He made a solemn vow to himself to never regress, to push on, no matter how serious his fatigue became. He had to push himself to the limit if he was to pull anything useful out of this excursion.
He was running at full speed, twigs snapped around him as he pushed through the thick brush. Some swung down and struck Sean's face and arms, stinging or cutting him, but he needed it. Physical pain gives one something to focus on, a sharp, vivid point of concentration; a good start for Sean.
He finally pushed through the thickest of the brush, and came out to see the first of the orange-pink glow that preceded the dawn over the clearing. He took a breath, and realized how tired he felt, his muscles all felt tired. Some part of him still didn't accept this decision to confront his problems, but that part had to be silenced. Sean threw off the mattress, and dragged it to a large tree, and wrapped the mattress around it. He then tied a part of the rope around the mattress to fasten it onto the tree, and there was Sean's punching bag.
He tossed away the rest of the rope, leaving it for a time to come. He looked about him, thinking to himself, how to start?
"Unsheathe your sword," came someone's voice, someone forever glued to Sean's memory. He heard Anna's voice in his mind as clearly as if she were right next to him, but he recognized the memory. His first day.
"Wow, have I fallen that far behind?" Sean asked, and then laughed quietly to himself.
"Precision, technique, speed, these are the things you need the most, they will affect the outcome of your battles the greatest. Magic is a powerful ally, but not one to be relied on; you must be able to rely completely on yourself. Now be quick, and accurate, worry about strength when you've become strong, now go!" Anna had lectured.
Sean drew his sword, and took up a basic defense stance. The best thing to do was simply imagine an adversary before you. Sean imagined Darteth before him, smiling wickedly. Darteth drew his own sword, and rushed forward, swinging down, Sean brought his sword up and parried it away to the left, then swung around behind him, and cut through Darteth's back with a slice to the side. The imagination was weak, and stirred nothing inside him.
"What's wrong now?" Sean asked to no one in particular. He sat down and hung on his sword as he thought. Nothing about that awakened some hidden motivation, so what was he supposed to do? How could he become his old self if nothing spurred him? He thought, for a long time, as the sun continued its slow ascent.
"Ah, you've finally arrived," Zachwell said. He held up a black soul, in his clawed hand, and heard a voice answer in his thoughts.
"Yes, master, forgive my flaw, I'd not realized how badly my blade was damaged. The Dragoon, Sean, slew me before I recovered from shock," said Darteth. Zachwell had awakened the soul slightly to speak of the Dragoon battle.
"How many did you take with you?"
"The other seven, all of them, as you ordered," Darteth answered.
"Ah, very nice, but did you dispose of them?"
"…No, I wished to feast on them after I delivered Sean to you," Darteth answered.
"So Sean has them?"
"Yes."
"Idiot."
"…"
"With the Winglies, that boy can still save his friends. As long as they exist, there is a serious threat to our new purpose," Zachwell said. "You jeopardize my mission with your hunger?"
"Master, forgive me, I did not know I could be killed by them," Darteth said.
"No, no, I'll mind it, everything will fall into the right place, don't worry yourself about that, for I'll see to it myself," Zachwell said with a thoughtful tone.
"Very well. Master? May I have my soul returned to a body?" Darteth asked.
"…No, no I think not, something as sentient as you still has too much room for flaw. You have served your purpose, into the inferno with your foul soul," Zachwell said carelessly. He gripped the soul tightly, and the magic of Mayfil began its work. Red, malevolent flames were pulled seemingly from the air of the old city and wrapped around the soul, and began pushing it in.
Darteth's screams were heard for several seconds before the flames carried it into the ground, to the Inferno, the ancient Wingly constructed "Hell", and silenced him.
Zachwell laughed and turned around. He beat his wings, and they carried him to his throne constructed of bone and ebony. He looked out on a vast field, as the spells he'd cast earlier continued to work. The direct route to the Inferno had been rerouted, and sent to this field. The dead dirt of Mayfil wrapped around the souls of the wicked and constructed new, dark beings. They reeked of death and decay, and several looked it as well, with bones from past warriors in the soil hanging from their new bodies. Strong magic ensured that the bonds between these souls and their new bodies were breakable only by Zachwell; also he made them stupid, unquestioned loyalty to him and no one else was a strong trait of his dead warriors.
An army was building, soon it would be ready. Let the humans be their own end. Zachwell thought. Then he laughed, and it rang out all around Mayfil, and the stupid soldiers turned to glimpse at the one they served.
/One Week Later\\\
Everyone sat outside on the strange Wingly chairs, staring at the sky. The week of recovery had gone by, and everyone had been brought back, though not quite perfect. Ben was telling his story to Christie, who thought it incredibly funny.
"I'm telling you, they switched up my voluntary and involuntary processes! I had to think to breathe, to beat my heart! All the while my mouth just kept running on and on and on, jibberish! They had to remove me and put me back the right way!" He said. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because," Rob said, chiming in, "Thinking about thinking, having to remember to breath, while your mouth goes on and on? They put you in right the first time!"
Ben slugged Rob and they all laughed. Charle had asked them all to meet there, and they were just passing time until her and Mike showed. Soon enough they did, and Charle began carrying out the request Sean had made.
"Dragoons, now that you are all in better health, and apparently rested, I would like to tell you about Sean's last night here," Charle said. The laughter halted and seven pairs of concerned eyes looked to the ancient Wingly.
"Sean had a hidden that called him away, solitarily. He left everything except his sword, even his Dragoon Spirit," she said.
"What happened?" Ben asked.
"What happened was that Sean was weak and finally realized it," Mike said. "He's gone to do something about it, alone."
"Yes, and the final request he made before departing was that you would all train vigorously during his absence, he says you have been Dragoons for nearly ten years, the connection with your Dragons is truly powerful, you should be able to draw out more of your element. You can become even more powerful, it is only a matter of drawing it out. Please go to the gymnasium, you will be attended to there," Charle said.
Everyone looked at each other, stood and began walking to the gymnasium, not knowing just how difficult of a task awaited them.
Authors' Note: Hey Everybody! Archangel here! Spike's here too, but he's….not well, he saw how many hits we had compared to the number of reviews and kinda….well he's sitting in the corner muttering angrily. You guys we're begging, if you read our story, even if you don't like it, please give us a review, tell us what we need to do, but please review! Until next chapter, adios.