Assassins.
Spies.
Devils of the night.
They were creatures of dark and darkness its self. They had no emotion, no feeling, no life or earthly desires. They just were. They were shapeless of heart, and, yet, galvanized in spirit. They were whole and yet entirely dispersed and spread thin at the same time.
They were as water.
Life and air flowed in and out of them, slipping with each subtle, slight inhale and exhale. They allowed these transient elements to the universe to just ebb and wane within them, as if out of their control. However, every tiny breath, every twitch of even the smallest of muscles remained completely aware in each of their minds.
They were warriors.
However, Kristo had the upper hand- physically. No man or woman alive could top his skills, save perhaps one of the other Thirteen. No one could match his sword, cross steel and survive. And, yet, Kristo had his katana and his pistols. He was well armed and well ready for anything, any sort of problem, from the simplest of traps to the very worst of attacks. He hadn't, however, quite mentally prepared to battle his own friend.
And Kathain? That Oracle came with the very worst of weapons. For, what the girl lacked in sheer skills, the precognitive more than made up with by her gifts. Kathain could read Kristo's future and her own. She could tell exactly which moves the shadow walker would choose. She knew the precise outcome of the battle.
Which could only mean one thing, really.
Kristo just staggered back in the water, mildly shocked, but still ready with his pistols, still trained and aimed upon the girl. "Kathain…"
The girl didn't answer, nor did she even seem to respond. There lay not a single flicker of recognition in her eyes nor in her face. It was as if Kristo had never even existed to her, as if she knew nothing about him nor the life they had lead together. No. There wasn't even a single reaction to the name. Kathain didn't exist anymore.
"Kathain…" he breathed again, more desperate, as if attempting to draw forth his former friend from that dark shell.
But there was no return for Kathain. At least, not now. She was gone, lost to the world and lost to everyone. That sprite like form pounced upon Kristo, knocking him belong the water and into that dark world. Instinctively, the shadow walker melded with the night, and they plummeting into the abyss, out of the water and into the air of the void, into that strange realm of dark and black.
He grabbed her fiercely and threw the girl from off him. Kathain slammed to the ground in a sprawled slide but scrambled to her feet swiftly, knife still in hand. The girl crouched low, her weight balanced on precariously perched balls of her feet. Kathain teetered, like some demonic entity, glaring at Kristo with vacant eyes.
He dropped the pistols of his deep into the darkness. That void cradled them swiftly, drawing the weapons back and away from the girl. Kristo reached out, searching for something, hungering for a weapon he had not touched in years. It had rested there, in a special place among his arms and hidden from the world in the void. Kathain's eyes had never seen it before, at least, not this particular implement. And, yet, there it remained, untouched by time or any man's hand after all those years.
Sakabatto.
The name rang sweet in his mind as Kristo called forth the blade from the night and from the darkness its self. Long, slender, katana-like, with one, glaring difference. The actual edge side was reversed, gleaming razor sharp from the wrong side of the blade. The long sheath, in black flat lacquer fell away and into the shadows, vanishing into nothingness. The uncommonly and distinctively wide curving blade gleamed despite the dark of Kristo's own abyss.
Kathain didn't seem frightened by it even the slightest bit.
It didn't matter. Kristo couldn't kill her. He could never strike her down and slay that girl who had been his friend, no matter what magics had been inflicted upon her. They, the others, they would find a way to bring back the girl Kristo had once known, because this was most certainly not the same creature. The reverse blade of the sakabatto forced Kristo to pause before ever laying down a killing blow.
"Kathain, do not make me attack you," Kristo growled.
The girl cocked her head to one side rather mockingly as the warrior spoke those words. She held no emotion, however, no fear, no surprise or humor. She just seemed to casually regard Kristo with a complete and total lack of humanity, as if studying him with the keen and sharp mind of the warrior himself.
Emotionless.
Perfection. The perfect warrior held no emotions. No sympathy for his enemy. No guilt for the deaths doled out. The perfect warrior felt no fear, no hesitation, and no regret. They could lose all feeling and fall out of existence. To make it worse, the perfect warrior, much like Kathain, knew what would come back.
She fell back, still casually and carefully studying Kristo.
"Kathain…"
xxxx
"Kristo…"
Robin just stood there and stared along the banks of the Reflecting Pool in sheer horror. The girl had just watched Kristo and Kathain plunge deep into the depths of the abyss. And the Craft user? She was powerless to do anything, say anything. All she could do was wait.
"No."
Robin had grown tired of waiting. There was no sense to this, to any of this. The teenager had been fed up enough with the others, with their lack of concern, with their ability to so easily just sit and let things play out for the better or the worse. No. Not Robin. This witch was master of her own fate and no one else could stop her. This fire starter held within her the Arcanum of the Craft, the secrets of all witchcraft. Perhaps even some slight hints to the gifts of Kristo, to the Thirteen.
Robin reached deep into herself and, then, opened her secret eye, he sight of the Arcanum. There, in the water, remained a lingering bit of Kristo's energy, his signature. The swordsman hadn't really left that spot. Well, he had, but he hadn't. The man had simply slipped from this reality and into his own fabrication of darkness and shadow. And, yet, somehow, Kristo's essence lingered on, despite his absence.
Robin bit her lip for a moment. She could always go to him, go to Kathain…. But…
The hell with it.
Robin jumped into the soaking, chilling water.
"I'm coming, Kristo…"
xxxx
"Kathain, I don't want to hurt you."
Kristo kept the full end of the katana forward, ready to strike but not kill the girl before him with the sakabatto. The man had never wanted this to ever come to pass. Even then, guilt and regret flooded into the man and instantly drained out as Kristo banished those emotions.
Kathain shifted on her feet. "I am not the person you speak of."
The girl lunged, keeping her boot knife up, aiming directly at Kristo's heart. And, yet, the swordsman had seen this coming. He stepped out the way and immediately found the girl before him again, knife ready, flashing through the air towards Kristo's gut, aiming to slice apart his gullet and eager to feel the warm viscera of her enemy upon her fingers. Kathain danced with him, moving slickly to the left, darting around him again. That was the danger of this creature, knowing each and every move of Kristo's before it had even been thought. She slashed at him with such seeming rage and, yet, such unfeeling capriciousness.
"Kathain, this is wrong, this is a dream," Kristo shouted, bringing the sakabatto around at the girl, aiming for her head.
Yet, again, the red head just skipped out of the way. "O God! Can I not save one from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?"
The swordsman stumbled, almost falling over as he jerked back, away from this creature, this warrior that had once been his peacefully, little friend. Those words. They had been written once, long ago. Kristo could just hardly recognize them. Poe. Edgar Allen Poe. It was a poem. One of Kathain's favorite writers. The girl he had once known still lingered within that dead shell. At least, some scrap of her remained.
"Kathain!" He swung sharp and hard, bringing the sakabatto down atop the girl. She rolled to the right with uncanny accuracy and seeming previous knowledge as Kristo spoke again, arguing with her. "We were friends once. You and I. You have to remember…"
Kathain just shook her head, tossing her copper locks from the tight bun her hair had been tied in. That look didn't suit the girl. It didn't seem right at all. The tight, black clothes, the sharply pulled back hair. It wasn't the Kathain Kristo knew and still loved somewhere deep inside of him. The stray bits of hair seemed more like the artist Kristo had once known.
"Please, just remember…."
xxxx
Kristo.
Robin held onto his name, clutching it close to her heart. She followed the trail of energy, slipping into the night and focusing intently on her target, her goal. The swordsman. He was close. So very close. And he hurt, so very much. But not physically.
Robin flushed.
Emotion, from the rock that was the shadow walker.
She fell, plummeting through the night and into the void, having lost her good, sharp grip on the man the girl had been hunting for. Robin let out a shrill scream, piercing the dark with the wind that whistled past her ears, roaring and shrieking at her. And, then, the world stopped. Everything stop.
Life froze.
Robin cracked open a wary eye as she just floated there, her skirt and hair billowing up around her. The Craft user just hung there, among the black, like some long dead and drowned Ophelia.
And, there, beneath her, was Kristo and Kathain.
xxxx
I love being devilish.