Lene: Thank you. It was rather tricky writing that particular scene without making it too cliché.

Peeka-chan: Quick-edit can be very evil. What it does to web addresses is annoying. As in, it makes them go 'poof'. I never did get to hear that live-action one of my reviewers did for 'Spirit Gun'. T.T

Kitsune-Kit: I own all three. I loved the ending to the last one. —Aislin is busy sqeeing over the robe in the background—

Hieinokoishii: Huzzah for sugar rushes. Merry Christmas, hope you don't go crazy at your relatives' place. I like the Obsidian/Suzume pairing, too. It's so much fun writing.

DevilDucky1304: Bingo, bingo! You win the prize! One bonus chappie for Christmas, and if you like, I'll email you the next chapter so you can gloat to your friends. (I'm evil and cruel, yes, but come on, the story can't progress without the climactic scene!)

Not quite the six reviews I was hoping for, but what the heck, close enough. Merry Christmas, happy Hanukah, cheery Kwanza, etc. Be safe!

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"Master, the plan is almost ready to advance to the final stage. The Rose and the Thief are taking the Avalons to perform the final ceremony."

"Most excellent, Shkatha. You will find your payment in the usual place."

"You are not waiting, m'lord?"

"I have waited for this moment for the past century, Shkatha. I do not see why I need wait an extra few hours. Besides, if I strike now, when the final bonding is just completed, that will pain that witch that much more."

"I see your excellent reasoning, most clever master. I pray that they mourn as you wish them to." The agent waits until the heavy footsteps fade into the distance before he straightens from his low bow. "And may you get your just desserts, you pile of slime," he adds disdainfully, for while he has despised serving Higurashi, the pay was too good for him to resist. If Shkatha is fortunate, he will never again have truck with people like that ice-hearted snake-in-the-grass. Shkatha is retiring and getting out of this hateful business.

——

The moonlight shines down into the clearing that has already been sealed by a mixture of energy and fuda, the Sunstone in all its natural glory casting a nimbus of dim radiance of watered sunlight onto the grass in the middle of it all. On one side of the clearing stands Aislin, now dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a comfortable sweater, her hair loosened from the up-do and tied back into a simple ponytail. On the other stands Kurama, dressed in similar clothing, his hair left unbound as is his wont.

Ivory and Obsidian are immediately to the left and right of the Sunstone, Ivory in jeans and a plush white turtleneck, her brother in black jeans and a loose grey sweatshirt. The silver vixen's hair gleams like molten platinum under the moonlight, while only the touch of silver even reveals where Obsidian's short, raven-wing hair is.

The twins look to their mentors, the blue-silver light from above sparkling off the small jewels set into their foreheads, drawing an echoing glimmer from the sigils traced around said jewels. Aislin gives her students a reassuring nod, then glances over at her mate, who also responds with a nod.

(!("Stone of Sol, awaken.")!) A flicker of orange light blooms at the ice-fox's words and forms into a sexless body that still somehow manages to exude a distinct feeling of 'male'.

(!("Rose of the Winter, I am awake and aware. You wish me to join in contract with Obsidian Avalon and his sister, Ivory Zephyr, correct?")!)

Amusement colors Aislin's stance. (!("You always did pay more attention to the world than your sibling stones. Yes, that is correct.")!)

The tiny head turns to look up at the curious, friendly twins gazing down at him. (!("I was in the possession of your master many centuries ago, only briefly, then was sold to a gem dealer. But what I learned in that short time was that the Whiteout, now called the Winter Rose, is a person whose word can be honored. That fact that she speaks for you says much about your own characters.")!)

A familiar feeling of being weighed, this time tempered by the sensation of laughter or at the very least, non-indifference, wraps around the Avalons for only a breath or two before dissipating. (!("Very well, young Avalons. I do hereby agree to bind my soul with yours until your lives end, and agree to do the same with my sibling stones until the time of the contract's disbanding.")!)

(!("So witnessed,")!) Kurama intones.

(!("So declared,")!) Aislin chimes.

(!("So it is done,")!) Sun-soul finishes. (!("And I welcome back my missing pieces.")!) Even Aislin and Kurama blink when the other stones appear in the clearing, circled around the Sunstone and glowing their respective colors. And before the four's wondering eyes, the jewels merge into a sinuous shape, until a stone dragon with brassy scales lies in the grass, curled around a miniature, featureless moon.

On the foreheads of the Avalons, in gold, traces the sigil for 'rebirth'. Ivory picks up the statue that is as big as her head, surprise flashing across her face at the weightlessness. The dragon is a mix between Eastern and Western beliefs, sinuous but muscular, with a raised crest running from between the single set of horns all the way down to the barbed tip of the tail, and all over a solid, brass hue. The eyes are closed, though if they were open, the silver vixen would be willing to be they'd either be as blue as lapis lazuli or as bronzed as the scales.

"Aislin-sama," Obsidian voices his thoughts aloud, "this looks very much like…"

"Like the dragon who watched the worlds be formed," Aislin finishes in a firm tone. "That's right. So, at least parts of the legends are true."

"Legends?" Ivory inquires sharply, turning to face her teacher with the statue cradled reverently in her hands. "As in more than one?"

But instead on answering, the storm-haired female tenses and then flings a deadly-accurate kunai towards the shadows just beyond her kits. "'Ware! Guard! And get your asses over here!" A pained shriek declares the wounding of those shadows while Ivory and Obsidian scamper to their mentor's side, the abruptly-silver Yoko diving into the darkness, coming out locked in combat with a form whose limbs glitter in the moonlight.

A sound of torment rushes from compacted lungs when Yoko is flung off into the ward wall, sliding down into a stunned heap as the cut-up skulker lifts his face into the light. Aislin hisses in the fashion more befitting a cat, more of her ice kunai flying straight for the demon.

This time, though, the other sees those weapons coming, and dodges them all with uncanny grace. "You've gotten slow, Whiteout," the male chuckles, the sound of silk over polished marble. He is revealed as a snake youkai, tall, lightly built, with the pattern of a mortal diamondback rattler turned into living, gleaming stone for his scales. But power breathes from his every pore, just as it does for Aislin now.

"Well, Higurashi," Aislin growls. "Finally decided to play your Game yourself? How very like you. But you are getting neither sculpture nor cubs on this night or any other." Her ice katana glitters in her hands under the moonbeams; she swings it in a vicious, lazy circle, moving into a flawless defense position.

It's not going to do her any good. With that same sibilant laugh, Higurashi raises a clawed hand to his lipless mouth and exhales hard. Dust rushes outwards into a cloud, trapped by the barrier erected by Aislin and Ivory. The four foxes start coughing even with hands and clothing clapped over their mouths for filters, the snake unaffected because his weapon is specifically designed for warm-bloods.

And faster than he could have hoped, one by one they drop to the ground in senseless heaps. Yoko, who had only begun to right himself, crumples alongside the barrier with a rose in his hands.

More importantly, the barrier keeping even Higurashi inside collapses without Aislin's conscious will to sustain the energy flow. It is then a simple matter of peeling away key fuda, and the serpent demon just picks up the two unconscious Avalons and the statue, and strolls off to his carefully-crafted hole in the reworked Kekkai barrier.

——

Back at the temple, Hiei stops in the middle of the song he and the rest of Pocky are playing (he has been a member of the band for over a year now), turning to gaze towards the Forest.

"Something's wrong," he mutters, the mike nevertheless picking up his words and tossing them out through the speakers. Kohaku gestures to their current techie to turn off the sound system and looks over at the bemused fire apparition.

"Wrong? Like how?"

"Don't know." The guitar is on its stand and Hiei gone before anyone can blink, a telepathic addition flavored with midnight concern getting flung back at his own future mate, /But I'm going to find out./

It's only moments before a telepathic wash of anger and disbelief washes back, staggering most of the gathering and causing Kohaku, Yusuke, and Kuwabara to sprint after their friend. When they reach the source of the wave, namely Hiei, they find him crouched over Aislin and commanding her in a worried voice to wake up.

A movement of silver off to the side brings Kohaku to Yoko, who has managed to throw off the majority of the drug thanks to his higher body mass and metabolism. "'Rashi," he wheezes, helped into a sitting position by Yusuke and Kohaku. "Drug. Can't…can't breathe!"

In response, Kohaku summons up her own healing ability, transmuting her usual manifestation of a rain-cloud into a humid, lung-cleansing mist. In seconds the Silver Thief is breathing easier; he gives the wolf-girl's supporting hand a warm squeeze. Golden eyes still somewhat glazed are aimed at Hiei. "Aisuhana?"

A groggy voice and a pale hand groping for the fallen ice-blade is the response. "'M gonna chuck tha' snake inna Void, s' help me, 'Nari."

"Hn. You can't even stand yet, snowflake."

"He. Took. My. Cubs."

"Crap!" Yusuke looks around angrily. "Someone kidnapped the twins? Why didn't someone say something?"

"We were drugged into unconsciousness at the time, Yusuke." Back in his human form, Kurama manages to speak in something close to his usual flawless baritone.

"I can tell you where he went," comes a voice whose level neutrality indicates court-training. Hiei's blade is out and gleaming against the stranger's neck almost before the last word is spoken, yet neither fear nor anger hitches the smooth tones.

"Step into the light," Kurama commands. "Hiei, let him walk."

And into the light steps an angel.

Golden hair is tied back into a ponytail that trails to the man's knees, with ice-blue eyes beneath pale eyebrows. A pair of massive feathered wings sprouts from his shoulders, and for clothing he wears only a pair of loose white trews that tie at the ankles. Aislin hisses from her unstable crouch in the grass.

"Hn," Hiei snorts. "If it isn't one of the Fallen race."

"One of the who?" both Yusuke and Kuwabara ask.

Kurama grimaces, eyes locked on the male standing so calmly before him. "The Fallen are a race that precedes humanity, Yusuke, Kuwabara. Up until the early Mesopotamia era, they lived among humans and were revered as messengers of gods or gods themselves. But when religions started fighting amongst themselves, the Fallen took themselves off to Demon World. So they are called the Fallen, because they no longer have the worship and offerings from humans. They have fallen from their own glory."

"You forget," the Fallen says in that neutral voice, "we also had cousins in the Aztec and Inca Empires. The feathered serpent, the Quetzalcoatl. And a few others, who demanded blood be part of their worship. Be thankful I only asked for harvest bounties and celebrations for my due, else I would not have been so kind as to come."

"Spit it out already, you lump of feathers," snarls Aislin, using her retrieved blade to help her up. "Where has that bastard taken my foundlings?"

Unaffected by the insult, the blue-eyed male looks over. "My name is Shkatha. Higurashi took them to the Barrens, where he intends to complete the ceremony with the Avalon siblings as a sacrifice." Then before anyone can stop him, the demi-god is gone in a thunder of wing-claps, a few shed feathers drifting to the ground in his escape.

Aislin finishes getting to her feet and walks in the direction of the front of Genkai's temple. Her own Jagan eye is open, throwing out aqua-colored sparks in her suppressed rage. Her telepathic sending cracks whip-sharp in the minds of the entire gathering. /Residents of Makai, the party is over. If you want to get back to your homes, I suggest you start gathering around the portal. NOW./

"Aislin, what are you planning?" Hiei demands, falling into step beside his soul-sister. A humorless smile flashes white in the darkness beneath the trees.

"Very simple, Hiei. I'm going to hunt that bastard down and pin his hide to my study door."

——

"Oh, my head," groans Obsidian, sitting up in soft grass, hands pressed to his skull in an effort to keep it from splitting apart. "Someone make the hammers go away."

"Ah, he's aware," a half-remembered male voice says in sympathy. "Welcome back, young Obsidian." Golden eyes crack open, then widen when lush greenery blanketed in silence and starlight meets his gaze. Somehow he's in the Void.

"When we can get back into our bodies," the pained, doubled voice of Ivory-Zephyr says from his left, "the first thing I'm going to do is strangle Higurashi if Aislin-sama hasn't already beaten us to him." The subtleties of their teacher's Name erase the smothering smell of decay and acid-washed stone of their enemy's.

The black fox finally notices that someone's hands are supporting his aching shoulders, and a pounding head is turned up to find the sunbeam-crafted body of the Sunstone-Soul bracing him up, gaze solemn. "Hello again, Obsidian Avalon. For a brief time we thought you'd not survive the powder."

"The what?"

"The bastard drugged us," Ivory-Zephyr snaps, the heels of her hands pressed against her eyes. Beside her, both Ruby-Soul and Agate-Soul nod, the two female shapes on their knees in the dew-soaked grass.

"Indeed," sexless Tear-Soul puts in. "Our captor used a powder specifically aimed at warm-bloods, thus leaving his own scaly hide unaffected. However, he failed to compensate for your lower body mass and lower energy levels as compared to your instructors. Any larger a dose would have killed you both and thoroughly ruined the snake's plans."

Their current setting is the viewing-pool used by the Avalon siblings to see the Truths of the worlds, lit by another full moon framed in pale silver-grey wisps of clouds. Mist creeps along the ground, an echo of the fogging effects of the drug still lingering in the foxes' physical bodies.

The surface of the water is blank but for Luna's serene reflection, and not for the first time Obsidian wishes that the plants of his Dreamscape talked like those in the solid world. This place is quieter that his old cell back in Reikai prison, but for the sounds of Ivory wrestling her pain into something manageable. The gentle warmth of the Jewels lends comfort, though not enough to ward off the echoing chill of numb limbs.

What he last remembers is the glitter of the moon off that dark pink dust that had wrapped him in suffocating darkness…He surges to his feet, heedless of the renewed agony spiking through the awareness of his Self and staggers to the pool, wordless command twisting the complacent ripples into a different image.

Golden mesh seals behind a shockingly large group of people, the polished tunnel walls ending on an empty field beneath the bruise-purple of the Makai's night sky. At the head of the group strides a silver-haired kitsune, his golden eyes hard in a tanned face; at the rear stands a storm-haired woman dressed in hunting leathers, her graceful hands moving tropical-sea energy to knit the neat hole in the Kekkai barrier closed again. Her cat-green eyes are as dark as her hair in leashed rage, her movements sharper than the Dragonice dagger sheathed at her hip. The observer sighs in relief to see the two alive and hale enough to be pissed.

"The tunnel's sealed, Yoko. Those of the Lair, move out! The rest of you have the choice of staying or going. Those who stay, stay to help bring down that bastard of a snake that's stolen my charges. Those who go, my only plea is to stay the hell out of my way."

An elegant, older version of Yoko Kurama steps forward, his oxidized-copper irises nearly burying the elliptical pupils. "You have the vows of the Gemsong Clan to follow your cause, Daughter of Winter," Ciarden Avalon tells the smaller female in his deep baritone. "Only one of the children is ours by blood now, but you claim them as yours, and you are ours. So we will fight for them, tooth and nail."

"My thanks, my sire," Yoko murmurs, having moved to join his mate. Now he places a broad tanned hand on the silk-clad shoulder of his father, a shared, brief smile of understanding passing between them. "But I suggest we get moving or my aisuhana will be bringing the sky down on our heads, I fear fair literally."

"Damn straight," growls the woman, striding forward with a nod of acceptance to the leader of her mate's birth-clan. "We don't have the luxury of time. If Higurashi actually completes the ceremony, I tell you now we can forget about the frying pan, because we'll be burned to a crisp by the fire."

"Beloved," Yoko begins to question, "what is this ceremony?"

All her years of living darken the cat-green eyes to something almost black in the night, as her scowl melts into a still mask, a twin to the one Hiei wears as he falls into step beside her once more. "To summon the Final Dragon from the depths of Makai."

Obsidian squawks from the Void in total harmony with his taller teacher, leaning so far forward towards the surface of the pool that his nose almost touches the surface. "THAT dragon?" demands Ciarden in something akin to relief. "But the Final went into Sleep so as to avoid bringing destruction to our world."

"True. But that was when the dragon had a mind."

"This is so confusing," Obsidian mutters, his breath disturbing the image in a featherlight ripple. "I didn't think it had lost its mind." Hiei says much the same thing, crimson eyes narrowed into an expression rarely seen nowadays in the company of his own sweetheart Kohaku.

"The Final still wanted to watch," Aislin replies, toneless. "So it chose one of the best families in Makai and bequeathed its mind to the youngest of each generation. Every time another child was born, whoever possessed a fragment of that mental packet unconsciously passed it on, since the fragment was only to be carried in the bottom of its inheritors' minds."

Several of those listening in hiss in understanding, seeing where the history goes. "So it was passed down not long ago to five siblings, melded into two when three of that litter perished then melded once again into a single mind when one of the remaining pair also died. Even though the second child has returned to life, that mind in its entirety now rests in the single subconscious of Obsidian Avalon, remaining holder of the Avalon heritage."

"What, I'm part dragon?" the black fox wonders aloud while those in the pool's reflection display various expressions of shock. They'd expected something a little different, but they weren't off by much. Even Yoko looks floored; in all his histories of his family, he'd never come across mention of this.

"So why didn't I know?"

"The secret was 'lost' several generations back," Aislin explains. "I know about this particular story because I talked to the Sunstone extensively when it was in my possession. Same with the Blood-Star Ruby and the Eternity Lily. Koenma knew because he marked every file of every member of the Avalon tribe who carried a mind-fragment. It leaves a specific mark on the souls of its bearers. Obsidian is technically the last living member of that ancient tribe of kitsune, so he holds it all."

"You aren't part dragon, Obsidian Avalon," comes the Sunstone-Soul's even voice from behind the black fox. "You merely hold the consciousness of the Final Dragon somewhere in your mind. The only reason that the serpent has taken both of you is because he believes that since Ivory is once more in a corporeal body, she must have regained her own half of the fragments. Such is not the case."

"I'd wondered why Koenma kept me so long in Isolation," murmurs the young renard, sitting back on his heels, eyes closed. "He wanted me safe from the reach of people like the snake."

"Correct," sighs the summer-scented being. "Though we, too, played a part, because the five stones are the keys to the mind. The snake played us all for fools, and off me and mine's desire to be rejoined into one Self."

"But you're still split into five," Ivory-Zephyr points out, making her own unsteady way to the pool's edge with the aid of Ruby-soul.

"Because the ceremony has not yet been performed. Our physical form will be summoned, the blood of our guardians spilled, and spells cast. When that happens, if it happens, the worlds will be doomed. For our mind," a translucent hand touches Obsidian uncertainly on his head, "will be gone and our body pliant to the commands of whosoever holds our icon."

"How do we stop it?" This from the youngster whose head is being touched.

"One of us dies." The response is neutral, indifferent. "To restore the mind of our Self to its entirety, your blood would be spilled. To prevent it entirely, one of us five dies, and leaves the icon shattered back into its components." A firmer pat this time, now that Sun-Soul is certain that its contact will not be rebuffed. "However, given the nature and abilities of those who love you, I would suggest we wait on courting sweet Death until it is proved whether or not they can handle the situation."

Deciding that what the Sun-soul says has merit, Obsidian nods and rises, the view in the pool dissipating in a flurry of ripples. Giving his sister a light peck on the cheek for reassurance, the black fox makes his way to the massive cherry tree that still flings clouds of pink petals to the slight breeze. This is his representation of his Soul, the very core of himself, and he draws comfort from its touch as he climbs onto one of the lower branches to seek out restorative sleep.

——

Yusuke Urameshi stands in the entrance to the Lair, his chocolate eyes trained on the spire that reaches into the crimson sky. When footsteps reach his ears, he says without moving, "I don't like this, fox-boy. What is she thinking up there?"

Yoko sighs heavily, only just now having organized the Lair into some sort of cohesive rage with Ikazuchi's help, instead of the chaotic mess it had been just an hour or so past. "I don't know what Aislin is thinking, Yusuke. That kind of intuitive thought is beyond anyone who doesn't have Oracle blood in their veins. That's the nicest reason of why most of her demonic relations chose not to attend the wedding. They have already seen it in visions."

Ever tactful, Yusuke asks, "What are the other reasons?"

Yoko appears to search for the least harmful words to explain. "The others…do not see Aislin for herself. They either did not know, didn't see the reason for coming, or simply did not care. Even among youkai, Yusuke, those who are like Aislin are seen to be…overly unique in terms of bloodlines. To have such diversity of skills is often frowned upon."

Yusuke isn't so nice. "You mean they see her as a freak."

"I suppose that's the closest human approximation. More like she is seen to be dangerous, too powerful, nevermind the fact that diversity brings strength and most of the lower-class demons would literally kill for that kind of power. Most youkai are of the purist mind-set: the purer your blood, the better you are. Those whose lineage are of purest stock are given deference, or force others to be subservient to their whims because their arrogance in their stupidity makes them believe they are worthy of that kow-towing."

"Your folk seem to like her just fine."

"The Gemsongs, I am pleased to say," Yoko replies delicately, "are not nearly so close-minded as most. They welcome those of broad heritage precisely because of that added strength."

"What does breeding matter when someone different and nastier than you is about t' chop you into tiny pieces?" Yusuke finishes rhetorically. "So what do you suppose she's doing up there?"

"Preparing, I'd wager."

Then in a soft boom of displaced air the subject of their conversation appears in front of them, only to stride into the Lair without bothering to acknowledge them. The pair hear her voice from inside, raised over the shouting her presence commences. "All right! Out of those of you who are staying to guard our loot I need four, one of each Element. And if anyone else can think of a particular element that might help, speak up."

"Lightning," offers Ikazuchi, to a shout of dismay from the thieves.

"Good idea, Thief King. Any others?"

"Wood," calls several. Aislin chooses one named Deicham and moves on. In the end, not only has she chosen the four basics, but also Lightning, Wood, Metal and Spirit, the last a relatively new member that is, surprisingly, half Oracle youkai. Yoko and Yusuke had since walked in to watch, only to find her leading her eight chosen down into the depths of the Lair.

"She's taking them to the Crystal Chamber," Yoko murmurs under his breath. "What spell could she be casting that would have her cast it there?"

"Spell?" probes Yusuke.

"Well, what else could it be, when she's borrowing a balance of eight Elements?"

Indeed, Yoko is correct. Once the eight are arranged on the alternating compass points, Aislin raises a magical barrier from her place in the center, powered by the strength contained in the spires filling the room. "I am only going to borrow a grain of your strengths," she tells them solemnly, "nothing more. The support of your elements is what I'm truly needing."

"Aislin-sama," the lightning-wolf Ikazuchi replies, butter-yellow orbs gentle, "I think I speak for most, if not all in this Lair, when I say that our very lives are in your command."

"So long as you leave my actual soul intact, cousin," her cousin from the Oracle youkai—named of all things, 'Prometheus'—adds in a lighthearted tone, "I shan't begrudge you the rest of me."

Their hero only closes cat-green eyes, a single, clear gem pinging to the stone floor. "Thank you." And then no other breath is wasted on conversation, as Aislin releases the energy she's stored in the crystals down to the dregs. Energy, glowing a clean shade that would match the Mediterranean Sea, floods the small space and draws echoes from the others standing in their places, creating an effect not unlike the Aurora Borealis.

Aislin stands in the center of a vortex, every iota of her concentration locked into keeping this drowning strength tame, her palm coming to rest on her lower abdomen. This is the strongest spell she has ever come across, and she will not be chaunting it for herself.

"One for the glory,

Two against scorn,

Three is the precious child unborn.

Four against mourning,

Five against wrong,

Six for the Circle's unending song.

Seven for sunlight,

Eight for the Moon,

Nine is the shield, the eternity rune."

Beneath her hand traces a pair of circles, each marked into quarters by the symbols of their element. In the center, visible through her palm, is a ninth, that of her own natural element, Ice. The seal she calls the Life Shield sinks through her clothes and into her skin, to wrap her unborn child in the strongest protections known anywhere in the three worlds. No matter what happens now, even if someone were to actually cut her head off, her body would continue functioning long enough to birth this child at the end of a year's gestation.

"Keep my young safe.

Protect them from harm.

No matter the cost,

So sayeth this charm."

And for a brief instant, as is often the case with spells of such caliber, the room is plunged into breathless darkness for the length of a heartbeat. No matter what now, her baby is safe, and it with a feeling of long-tensed muscles being released that she shifts into her most natural form, eyes of a tropical sea taking in her slightly-stunned comrades. Ikazuchi waves off her concern, his own eyes slightly unfocused.

She will be facing a dragon. She would never doubt that the scum she'll be stalking has already begun preparations to summon the Last Dragon from the depths of Makai. And while she may be old and powerful enough to make the worlds quake, this foe will literally be older than dirt, with strength enough to crush her with little effort.

But this foe also holds the lives and very souls of her chosen cubs in peril; she is fox enough, and stubborn enough, to not step down. Tanned hands snap her from her dark thoughts, and she looks up into the eyes of her grown captain, now peer, as he settles his jacket over her shoulders.

"Go get the bastard for us, Aislin," the lightning-wolf tells her in a husky voice. "Teach him why no one messes with the Lair, or you." He leans down, lips brushing her ear. "And don't let that fear I smell win out. No one beats the Winter Rose, the Whiteout. Not King Yama, not Death, not a moldy old dragon. You've got our vote of confidence, boss-lady."

A tiny thrill of pleasure overrides the stress that had been winding her nerves tight. For the first time in her memory, the man who is leader of these thieves has dropped that damned honorific. "You called me Aislin, Ikazuchi. It's about damned time."

"I might just make a habit of it," Ikazuchi deadpans, making Aislin's lips turn up in the start of an involuntary smile. "Now get going. The twins can't wait forever."

Prometheus catches up to her in the corridor, the lamp-light gleaming off his straight curtain of teal hair and distant, unfocused black eyes. "I see a different kind of battle ahead, cousin," he tells her in the voice he is only heard using in visions. "Only one being, but many shapes, fighting a creature of gold. It cannot be any other than you and the dragon."

"The end?"

"I cannot see that far, my cousin, and for that my apologies." She dismisses the guilt with a quick shoulder-squeeze. "But what I feel tells me that this battle is yours. It means almost certain suicide, but there is the sense that if it goes otherwise, what allows you to succeed will not manifest."

"So I will win?"

"I hope so, my cousin, I truly do. But fog clouds the certainty of that. Trust in Luck and Fate, dear heart, and all the tricks you've got up your pretty sleeve."

"Thank you, cousin." And she continues to the main cavern alone, the Oracle youkai going back to the Crystal Chamber, his slender fingers finding that single clear gem half-hidden behind a cluster gone dull, now that the youki no longer sustains it. A gentle touch and a small effort lights the cluster of lavender crystals, shading them more of a royal purple in pastel. The other seven have already lit what they can; this is the sanctuary of their beloved friend and they will not see it ruined. Should she survive, she will likely need it in the days to come.

———————————————————————————

Fallen: a race of demi-gods who were once worshipped by humans. When the religions began to fight amongst themselves, the Fallen abandoned the senseless, purposeless slaughter and fled to Makai as exiles. They are held in contempt by some, fear by others, and suspicion by the rest.

Prometheus: Foresight

Oh, just wait. I have a super-duper cliffie waiting for you in the next chapter. Bwahahaha!