Enter the Light
Part Eight: Where is the Future Now?
Standard Disclaimer Thingie: Plot, mine. Characters, not. Steal? No! Sue? Please, no. Thank you, Enjoy.
The sun parlor was lit with more candles than sunlight, despite its name. Only filtered sun was visible through the endless gray haze. Miyako was the last to arrive, and the others were anxious to begin by the time she had come.
It was Hikari that most concerned Miyako when she entered the room. While the rest of those present were talking, anxiously discussing the situation and their worries, Hikari was silent, sitting in a high-backed chair in one corner of the room. Her face was calm, serene, and without the lines of worry that the others expressed so sharply. Miyako sensed no dark magic around her, thanks to Koushiro's potion, and for that she was grateful, yet something, hidden deep within her eyes, told her that Hikari was most upset about something.
Hawkmon, standing at Miyako's feet, noticed the direction of her gaze. "She seems most worried," he said. "As though she were uncertain of the future, perhaps?"
"If she has not seen – has not dreamt anything – then the future is much more uncertain for him than we think," she answered
"She is in conflict," the digimon agreed. "She doesn't understand the power she's been given or how to use it. Do you think she will have to learn?"
Miyako frowned deeply. "I'm certain of it," she said, her voice grave. "His life might very well depend on it, if the prophecy is any indication. All our lives might."
The room fell silent at some unseen signal, and Yamato carried a small package wrapped within a cloth. "This was found at the site where he was last seen," he said, and opened it. A bright metal glinted in the candlelight, a bright, shiny reflection that momentarily blocked the view of the object – an elegant, well-polished sword. The room was silent entirely as it took in the view, and the only one who reacted was Hikari, who gasped.
"Hikari - do you know what this is? What it means?" Taichi questioned.
She didn't answer, but stood and crossed the room, taking the bejeweled handle in her grasp. All was silent. Hikari shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, she nodded.
It was Takeru who answered for her, for he had seen the weapon once before. "I know," he said, and immediately all heads swiveled to face him, even Hikari, who turned her gaze from the sword for a moment. "Shall I tell?" he asked, and when she nodded, once, he continued.
"The sword belongs to Hikari, and to her mother and grandmother before her. Several months ago – while we were still in the woods, she had a dream that Daisuke would be in a fight and that he would be injured – badly injured – with only a stick to defend himself. She gave him the sword so that he might save himself, and he did. I suppose that he has carried it since."
Hikari nodded once more, took a deep breath. "He did. He would not willingly give it up or leave it behind."
"It wasn't there when we arrived, I know that. I would have noticed it," Koushiro stated. He turned to Yamato and Takeru, both of whom nodded to confirm his statement.
"Then it must have been placed there afterwards," Sora concluded. "I don't like the meaning of that."
"I'm not sure what it does mean," Mimi interrupted. "It means that someone took the sword from him, and if what Hikari says is true, that he would not give it willingly, then it's possible that he is alive and taken prisoner, is it not?"
"It is possible," Sora agreed. "And it is also possible that he is not."
"Someone put it in the forest in just the right spot," Iori noted. "Whoever did that knew that we would come searching for him."
It had been a few days since the dark stranger had appeared on the eastern banks, and yet Shijo's friends had not ceased to be afraid each time they ventured near to fish in the waters. Proud of his bravery, Shijo led the way each trip down. At first he felt empowered and stronger, but by the third day following he was simply frustrated and annoyed.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," he insisted, scolding his companions. "It's only the river, same as always, and he was not evil."
"He had magic!" the other boy insisted. He was smaller than Shijo, though not by much, and his dark hair was long and hung over his eyes. "Strong magic! You said he disappeared into nothingness!"
"If he wore a dark cloak," the second friend said, "then it's not likely he was pleasant. How many good guys are dressed all in black!?"
The others thought about this as they slowly moved toward the river banks. Although Shijo was brave, his steps also were hesitant and slow. In the end it was his partner, a pink Koromon, who piped up.
"What about the Dark Bandit?" the tiny digimon reminded them. "Didn't he dress in black?"
Shijo nodded, memory restored. "That's right, he did."
"I wonder what happened to him," the boy with the long hair wondered. They all sat on the muddy banks, digging for worms or bugs to use as bait. "Do you think he was killed?"
"No!" the third boy disagreed. He was smaller than the other two, and his hair lighter. He stood when he made this statement. "No, he can't be dead! They couldn't kill him!"
"What if the stranger we saw was the Dark Bandit?" Shijo wondered, paying no attention to his friend's distress.
His companions disagreed. "Why would he go around dressed like that?" the long-haired boy asked. "Using magic? The Dark Bandit never used magic."
"He might have," the smaller boy put in. "Maybe we just didn't know about it." They thought about this for a moment, baiting their hooks with fresh, wiggling worms. "Still, I don't think it was him."
For a long time there was silence on the river. Each boy dropped his line in and waited for his worm to be bitten by a decent sized fish that they might eat that evening, or sell for a good price in the market. As they had done the last few days, they kept their eyes mainly on the eastern bank, watching the shadows of the hills for signs of another strange visitor.
The silence was abruptly broken by a loud clanking noise from upstream, near the bridge. All three boys froze and then turned in the direction of the foreboding prison building. The massive iron gates were opening, slowly, with the loud grating noise of metal on metal.
"Let's go see!" said the long haired boy, and was off, dashing upstream before the others had even pulled their lines from the water. They followed him, hurrying quickly, making little noise, hiding behind the trees.
The gates were completely open, and now they could see the carriages moving up the road, three large vehicles, each pulled by a pair of Monochromon, struggling to haul the heavy objects.
One was a simple carriage, the sort of which usually carried people from one place to another. The boys had seen many on the roads through their village carrying people to and from the villages, to and from the Lord's manor atop the plateau. This one was made of dark wood and painted an even darker black. There was no marking on the side of the carriage to indicate from where it had come, and no decoration of any sort. The wheels, also made of old wood, were painted a dark maroon.
Behind the first carriage was a wagon, a simple wagon, also painted black and with no markings of any sort upon it. It was filled to the brim with a heavy load, but the load was covered with a black sheet. Whatever was under the load was most likely metal, for the wagon made loud clanking metal noises as it rolled past the boys.
Shijo gaped. "What do you think is in there?" he whispered to the others.
"Chains," said the smallest boy. "Chains and all sorts of metal to make the bars on the cells or the doors." His eyes were big and frightened.
"Quiet," hissed the third boy, the one with the long hair. "Who do you suppose is in there?"
The third and final carriage was a great boxy object, painted black as the others. The driver sat atop the box to drive, and he was dressed entirely in black, a dark hood covering his face from view. There seemed to be no entrance to or exit from the wooden box.
Its contents were no mystery. The final vehicle held whatever prisoner was being condemned to spend time in the formidable prison.
"That's a very good question," said a voice that the boys didn't recognize. They paid no attention to the sound at first, and then turned to find that the cloaked stranger from before was standing behind them. Immediately, Shijo's friends became quivering masses of jelly, legs wobbling violently at the sight of the visitor.
"You don't know?" asked the long-haired boy, his voice wavering as he spoke.
"How would I know?" the stranger asked. "I would be suspicious, though."
"Suspicious?" the smallest boy questioned. "Of what?"
Shijo nodded. "There are no markings on the carriages," he said. "When the King sends someone to this prison, he sends them within carriages with the seal of the kingdom, doesn't he?"
"So my memory tells me," the stranger agreed. "And yet these are not. Why do you suppose that is?"
"Maybe he's a very dangerous criminal! A murderer!" the smallest boy piped up.
"Or maybe it's not the King who sent him here," the long-haired boy suggested. "But then, who did?"
"A very good question," the stranger said again. All four watched as the carriages slowly made their way up the path and toward the prison, moving slowly and creaking noisily.
"Why have you come here?" Shijo ventured to ask, having mustered his courage for some time so that he might state the question.
"I am looking for someone," the stranger answered vaguely.
"In the prison?" the smallest boy questioned.
"I am not sure of where. I have felt a presence near here, very close near here."
"So you are a wizard!" the long-haired boy stated triumphantly, but the stranger disagreed.
"Perhaps," he answered, vague once more. "I don't think so."
"Who is it you're looking for?" Shijo wanted to know. "Maybe we could help you find them."
"I don't know the answer to that," the stranger answered. "My past is a muddled mess right now. It is possible that the one I seek is in there, but it is also possible they are elsewhere. For now, I think caution is best. I will observe more."
And he was gone.
Rather than go to help Koushiro, Miyako went to find Hikari once the meeting had dissolved with no conclusions made. As she walked through the halls, she felt familiar conflicts rise inside her.
"She must be told," Miyako said aloud, speaking only to Hawkmon. "And yet she must not. How can I keep it from her? It doesn't seem fair."
"It's not," Hawkmon agreed.
Further conversation was halted by the presence of Takeru, who was outside Hikari's room. "She isn't here," he said before Miyako could even ask the question. "I think she's gone outside."
Miyako sighed heavily, following Takeru to the nearest exit. There was silence for a long time, and then Takeru said: "Isn't there magic you could use - ?"
She shook her head gravely. "I have tried. I have used the wind spell many times, but with no luck. Koushiro has also cast many spells and found nothing."
"Do you think he could be dead? Or is he so well hidden that magic cannot find him?"
Again, the young mage sighed heavily. "Either could be true," she answered. "I am more likely to believe in the second, though, and not only because that's what I want."
"Why, then?"
They had reached the outside door, and now ventured outside. It was warm, warmer than it had been in days, and yet the snow showed no sign of melting. A few drops of water slid from the roof above them, but still the snow crunched below them.
Miyako bent and touched the snow with her hand, scooping some of it up. She held it out to Takeru, who touched it with his hand.
"It isn't cold!" he said, and shivered. "Something is wrong."
She nodded. "Very wrong," she agreed. "Some great power has caused this weather, and it is doing much more than that. It interferes with all magic." She squeezed her hand and the snow slipped between her fingers, dropping to the ground with plops.
"It has interfered with your spells, so you don't believe your findings are accurate," Takeru concluded.
"That is part of it."
"What is the other part?"
They could now see Hikari, sitting on a bench in the midst of a garden. The snow still covered the plants and the trees and the flowers were not yet blooming. She sat, eyes and mind focused far elsewhere, far beyond the palace grounds. The sword that had been returned to her was stuck into the ground not far from the bench.
"Hikari doesn't believe he's dead."
Takeru drew the sword from the dirt with ease and examined it. He swung it about in one hand and then shifted it to the other. For a moment, he seemed to be pleased with the weapon, and then he shivered as though suddenly cold and replaced it in the dirt.
"I can feel it, somehow," he said, a pitiful explanation at best, and shivered further.
Miyako turned her focus to the sword. Although she had very limited knowledge of how best to wield a sword, she placed one hand on the hilt and could feel the magic that coursed through the metal. She pulled her hand back and nodded to herself.
"It cannot be held by just anyone," she stated, and then sat on the bench beside Hikari. Takeru sat on the other side. Hikari seemed not to acknowledge them in any way.
Miyako squinted closely and could just barely make out the faint glints of magic that wove their way through Hikari's aura. The more she focused, the more she could see, and the brighter the magic appeared to be. "What do you see?" she asked, only half-expecting a response.
Hikari shut her eyes, shook her head. The magic seemed to fade from her aura. "Nothing. I don't know how to focus. I can't…."
"Focus?" Takeru echoed. "Focus on what?"
"I haven't dreamed," Hikari answered. She opened her eyes and turned them to the sky, covered with dark clouds even though the day was bright and visible. "I have seen nothing. Wizarmon said that something may be blocking me."
Miyako sat up straight. "Wizarmon said that?"
Hikari nodded. "He said that I have the strength to overcome the blocking, but I need to focus. I don't know what he meant, and I don't know how to do that." She got to her feet. "I don't understand any of it."
There was a long silence. Hikari rubbed her eyes with both hands and then her temples, as though she felt a headache coming. "I only feel tired," she said, and sat down again.
"Do you understand?" Takeru asked Miyako.
Miyako looked toward Hawkmon, who had perched on the back of the bench. "Not really," she answered finally, sighing a defeated sigh. A glint of magic caught the corner of her eye – the sword, still stuck in the dirt nearby. "Take the sword," she said then.
"What?" Takeru echoed.
"No," Miyako corrected. "Not you. Hikari. Take the sword. It will help you."
"I don't know how -," she began.
"I know. The sword will help you. Trust me." She felt Hawkmon's gaze on the back of her neck, sighed deeply, and stood. "I must go." She turned back toward the palace and took two steps.
"Miyako?" Takeru said then. "You know something more, don't you?"
She halted her steps and gazed down at the snow at her feet for a long time. "I know a lot more," she answered. "I am sorry I can not help you."
Hikari had paid little attention to the exchange. She pulled the sword from the ground and held it in her hands. Takeru watched, puzzled and confused, as Miyako left.
Holding the sword in both hands, Hikari took an experimental swing, trying her best to mimic the style she had seen others use. It was a clumsy movement, and she knew it, though she knew not why.
"I could - ," Takeru began, and then stopped himself. He had been about to offer to show her the right way to swing it, but realized that would not be best. Hikari had given the sword to Daisuke, and in exchange he had promised to show her how to use it. For someone else to show her would be breaking that promise, and like admitting he was dead, and that was not possible. Not now. Perhaps not ever. 'It's only been a few days,' Takeru berated himself.
Hikari gave up on trying to swing the sword and sat down again on the bench. She jammed the blade again into the warm snow and into the hard dirt below. Gripping the hilt in both hands once more, she sat cross-legged as she had before, and shut her eyes, trying to focus again.
'How is a sword supposed to help me?' she wondered, but pushed the thought from her mind. 'I must see something,' she thought instead. 'Anything.'
For some reason, Miyako couldn't muster the will to return to Koushiro and the study of the prophecy. Instead, she went to see her sister. Momoe was in her room, watching the flow of traffic as the carriages came and went from the palace. There was a small pile of knitted baby clothes on the bed, and beside it a small pile of fabric waiting to be sewn into even more baby clothes.
"Is the news good?" Momoe asked when Miyako entered.
"It is confusing," the younger sister replied. "I don't think it's good, but I'm not sure how bad, yet."
Momoe nodded with the wisdom of one who has experienced lost in their life. She had known friends who had lost loved ones and lost some herself. She had also spent a good deal of time in the last few months fearing that her sister had been lost and worrying about the future. "Is the princess upset?"
Miyako sighed deeply and sat down on the bed. "Very," she answered. She took a small baby cap in her hand and gently ran her fingers over the stitches, feeling the texture. "She doesn't know what to do, and she hasn't dreamt a thing. I wish I could help her."
The elder sister sat beside the younger and put one arm around her shoulder. "I'm certain that Hikari will be all right," she said. "We all must deal with the unknown, with the grief in our own way." She turned her head in the direction of the door, looking beyond to where Jun's room was.
Takeru watched Hikari as she sat, unmoving and silent for nearly an hour straight. He wished he had Miyako's power of sight or at least some sort of magical sense so that he might understand what was happening – if Hikari was at all successful in her endeavors.
Since he possessed no such abilities, Takeru found himself wondering about the meaning of Miyako's parting words. When Hikari had first told him of her prophetic dreams, he had thought immediately of magic, although she had told him otherwise. Now it seemed as though Miyako expected that the visions could come to Hikari at will rather than through the power of dreams, and to Takeru's limited knowledge, this was magic.
He thought for a long time, part of him desiring to go and seek out Miyako, to demand some sort of an explanation, even as he thought that it was unlikely she'd give him one. Another part of him thought it might be best to stay with Hikari, though. She needed some sort of looking after, and the gardens were empty now.
The sun was beginning to slowly sink in the western skies. The days were growing longer, but it was a slow process and it would soon be dark. Takeru shivered, thinking about the cold that would come with night, but realized then that he wasn't cold. He looked at the un-melted snow at his feet and shivered again.
Hikari had opened her eyes but still she did not move. Takeru turned to face her, having noticed her alertness, and watched her for some sign of expression of success or failure, but her face didn't move any more than her body. Her eyes, though open, still appeared to see something other than what was before her.
"Hikari?" Takeru finally ventured to say after some time had passed and then she did turn her head and face him, moving slowly. She blinked, an action that seemed as though it took a decade in itself, and time seemed to slow down. "Are you all right?" he finally asked. "Have you seen – anything?"
She nodded, a slow and endless gesture. She turned her gaze away from Takeru and gripped the hilt of the sword even tighter in her grasp. "I have," she answered, slowly, and stood, a quick movement that surprised him, took him off guard.
"Is it - ?" Takeru began, but Hikari interrupted.
"It is not what I expected," she answered. "I have seen, but not what I expected to see." She frowned deeply and appeared to be lost in thought for a moment. "It seems clearer now, but I have no answers to give you."
"I don't understand."
"No, I don't either. Takeru, I have seen the future, but I have not seen Daisuke. I don't know what this means, exactly."
The sun was performing a magnificent sunset in the west, beyond the village, over the valley below. The clouds overhead were as dark and foreboding as always, and the orange light of the sun painted the edge of each of them with a bright color. Purple and orange, pink and blue, the sky dazzled, bringing beauty where it could not during the day.
Throughout the village below and within the palace, many people stopped their work or leisure and admired the sunset. Even those who did not normally admire visual beauty were struck by the drama of the colors after so many days in darkness.
"It's beautiful," Takeru breathed. There was a long silence as they both stood and watched the sun sink lower until there was only a dim after-light remaining and it was dusk.
"It may be the last one we see," Hikari said, her voice soft but still audible in the evening silence. She took the sheath from where it lay on the bench and placed the sword back within it, then carried it as she walked back in the direction of the palace. "There isn't much time."
"Hikari, what did you see?"
She was gone, though, disappeared from his vision in the dim light, and if she answered, he did not hear her words.