The Malice in the Dark

The nothingness was winding into form and colour. Akiro stood in its thick atmosphere, giving his fingers an experimental flex. He could stand up fine – he was no longer so weighed with exhaustion. His shoulders seemed to prickle the air above him.

While he felt perfectly fine, there was the sickening sense of frailty, as though he were rough and brittle around the edges, ready to be seized and snapped in the blink of an eye. He couldn't carry out his task…

He looked around him; his surroundings were callously indistinct. They were constantly changing, it seemed, for fear of being recognised. They shifted into a haze of ground with no terrain.

He realized suddenly that there was something in his hand. Holding it up, he saw it was a sphere of glass. It was surprisingly warm, as if it had been out in the sun for hours. It had an icy shine, and felt as fragile as he was. It was heavy though, and he wanted to get rid of it, but his fingers wouldn't lift themselves from its water-smooth surface. He couldn't let go.

He wheeled around, sensing something behind him. He could see it, but that was it – he couldn't see what it was or what it was doing. He pawed his belt for his Emergency Knife, and found nothing. The thing was equally surprised to see him though.

And angry. Roaring and indignant. It growled at him – a low, hellish quake that made his stomach turn. He took the glass sphere in both hands, hoping it would bring some comfort.

That! it screamed. Akiro recoiled. Why! They need to suffer! Everything needs to! Let me end everything!

"This is important," the sage tried. "Where is this place?"

Give me that spell.

"No," he somehow said. Did I just say that?

I want that spell. Give me the spell or I'll tear you into shreds.

The thing was swelling with anger. It towered red and hateful over him. He remained silent.

GIVE IT NOW!

It sprinted at him… well, nothing so human. Akiro shouted out in alarm and sidestepped awkwardly.

GIVE ME THE SPELL!

Something sharp and definitely capable of causing a lot of pain swung over him, burning the air in front of his chest. It did burn – it left wintry blue flames that screamed with relish and then fell.

A light switched on in Akiro's head: Give me the spell. The sphere… was the sealing he had cast. A lot of people would die if he let it go. And this thing… it wanted everything to suffer.

He leapt back, trying to make out some kind of outline, and found none. How could anything be so… angry? He was thinking about asking when he noticed it was doing something very similar to shaking. In the same way that an agitated person will hunch their shoulders, grit their teeth and clench their fists.

WHY! it screamed in a voice ragged with fury as it sprung at him again, trying to slice and kill, and destroy the sealing.

Akiro spun around and fled, his feet pounding into unrecognisable ground. His mind a blur of nothing, protesting, "I don't understand!" He'd run forever. He had to. He'd led himself into a bleak, cursed life of fleeing for eternity. His legs were numb and constantly moving, and the pained, bloodthirsty shrieks of why rang behind him.

Trapped in the plain of nothingness, he was alone.

x-x-x

"This is a bit of a parlous situation."

Marius frowned at the understatement, and turned to the speaker, the Champion named Jasper. He was a strange individual with a broad frame that was too big for his head. His hair was thin and black. His neck was long and stalk-like, and with a heavy monks robe draped roughly over a stocky build, he almost gave the impression of a huge oak tree trunk with only one spindly branch. His eyes were deep-set and looked hollow, and were almost totally colourless. While his face was small and negligible, his nose certainly reflected the prominence of the rest of him.

"I would call "parlous" quite a mild adjective here," replied the cardinal of the Sage guild, somewhat faintly. Orius, regarding Akiro as a mixture of a friend and a son or favourite nephew, was naturally obligated to visit the boy in his dwindling health. "Was there anything left of Akiro's staff at all when it burnt away?"

"Only this," said Marius, handing the sage the small, black stone. He didn't know much about it, as even in his years as an acolyte, he had never used a staff or wand, or anything that channelled magic through a crystal. "What would your diagnosis of it be?"

Orius turned the crystal over in his hand a few times, and murmured back, "Completely dead."

"That's bad though, isn't it?" mused Jasper with a frown.

"True. But if the crystal had shattered, then we'd really be in trouble." Orius sighed heavily. Lines of age crinkled around his eyes. "I suppose you are familiar with how these work?" he asked. Marius shook his head. "Well, let me explain.

"One of the jobs of the blacksmith guild is to make crystals for mage's staffs. Crystals channel energy in a similar way to the catalyst gemstones, but the gemstones are not really fit to be called catalysts – sacrificial would perhaps be a better term for them. Crystals can channel nearly every kind of magical energy without suffering the deteriorative qualities. Before their discovery, mages and acolytes generally didn't live past thirty years of age. There is still a certain amount channelled through the caster, so it is still true that magic users die younger.

"When you enhance constalites, you get spirit spheres. When you degenerate them, they revert into crystals. While Gonryun is kept floating by the blessing of the Twin Shrine Maidens, Yuno owes its enchantment to a giant crystal, known as the Heart of Ymir. Crystals, like spirit spheres, have individuality, and grow with their user. Fieri's staff is mounted with a crystal of great destructive magnitude; that disc around the top is actually there to stop her from blowing herself up. My own has four crystals, not only to suit the compatibility with all four basic elements, but it allows me to create a casting circle over a greater area. Akiro's is quite unusual – for one thing, he made the crystal himself, when he was fourteen, I might add, which is one of the reasons why I was more than glad to promote him to a Professor once he graduated. It's quite difficult to do. It's Whitesmith technology, and very few High Wizards or Professors can do it. This crystal was designed for quick casting. One attribute about it that makes it so suitable for this is that it channels energy all the time. So Akiro would be using some of his magic to keep it alight all the time."

"And now it's totally dead," said Marius.

"Exactly. That means the sealing was successful. Akiro, however, is completely exhausted."

"I guess there must be a slight reversal of roles here; he's now using his magic to channel the barrier. He won't be able to cast much for quite a while. And since the sealing was successful, he has complete control of it – he could lift it any time he chooses."

"Which we know he isn't going to do. But we have to watch out… Since Akiro is the channel for this, should he die, the spell will die with him."

"Do we tell the barons about this?"

It was a question that had been dwindling in everyone's minds, but Marius was the first to utter it aloud.

He was, of course, met with silence. A little miffed by his own lack of words to match the question, he tried to ask a different one. "Is it really necessary to hide this?"

"The barons can spin just about anything into a plot to betray the Treaty of the First King," replied Orius, somewhat sternly.

"Including hiding things that need attention," retorted Jasper, equally sternly. "If we conceal this, and they discover it, then we will suffer for it."

Orius sighed. "I know. I'm concerned about placing the remaining High Wizards in further displeasure."

"So, one of us goes to Prontera to inform Prince Tristan, whether the barons are there to hear it or not. If they are not there, then the Prince will disclose the information in whatever manner he sees fit; he is quite deceptively wise. If they are there, then they should know to trust the word of the Champions."

"Most of us know that, but you know how much they disapprove of the Orders that came about during or after the Guerre te Muladi." (The war of the different nations of Midgard, which ended with the Treaty of the First King. One condition of the treaty was that Prontera would control the other towns through peaceful means, and that common-tongue would be spoken by everyone.) "Aravis of the dancer's guild is having a particularly hard time of it."

"I don't understand why they hold the High Wizards in such contempt," mused Marius.

"You would say that, what with one of them being your own daughter."

"It isn't just that. The wizard's guild is one of the oldest and most revered orders."

"It's just the idea of guild masters taking charge of castes that they don't like."

x-x-x

There was black. A warm, black nothing. It was warm, but there really was absolutely nothing. No energy, no knowledge, no feeling. Nothing. Very nothing.

Why, why, why…

Sometime, warmth had crept in, but when was undecided. It could have taken years, or it could have taken only a few seconds. Trying madly to shake haziness away, a question formed, and eventually struggled into comprehendible words.

"Where am I?"

The words sounded faint, and not quite there. It sounded as if they were coming from a great distance. He couldn't still be sprinting across the plateau that didn't want to be seen…?

Gonryun.

Whoa. That had to be an answer. Oh, wait, I've got my eyes closed.

Remedying this setback was a surprising strain, but light flooded into the world, and it was no longer nothing. There was a myriad of blurry blotches, which eventually crept into a strange shape as eyes focused with a noticeable ache.

"Are you awake?" something asked.

The words translated themselves, and were considered carefully before replying. "I think."

"What do you remember?"

Again, careful consideration. "Nothing." The voice that gasped out the answers was still faint. There was no power behind it whatsoever. Frown.

"Right." The something took a deep breath. "You are in the sanctuary in Gonryun. You are here because you cast a near-fatal sealing. Your name is Akiro. You are eighteen years old. You are a Professor from the Sage guild. You live in Yuno. Anything else you'd like to know? How do you feel?"

Akiro considered this information, and his own memories started to throb, the shadowy thing lurking somewhere close by. His eyelids were sliding shut of their own accord, and the feeling of physical presence he had was beginning to dwindle again. His life started to slowly trickle back into his mind. Feel? One word leaped out like wildfire. "Tired."

"As we expected. Is there any other question you need answering?"

"How long have I been like this?"

"Four days."

Akiro felt a reaction to this. It felt like surprise, but his voice wouldn't make the exclamation he wanted it to.

He settled instead for a feeble, "That's quite a long time."

Before he knew what had happened, he was basking in the warm nothing once again. The shrieks were becoming audible again… No… keep away…

-X-X-

"How would you go about saying goodbye to someone?"

The question took Hawk by surprise. Kyo immediately blushed and diverted her eyes. He blinked a few times, then mentally picked himself up.

"How exactly do you mean?" he asked.

They had finished archery lessons, and he missed them. A few days ago, however, Taiken had kicked a gloomy Hawk in the shins, and told him to ask Kyo if she wanted to have lunch with him.

"She asked you to the festival; I think you should return the favour."

Taiken then made it an official order, and, punching him around the head as he passed, Hawk went off to find Kyo.

She accepted without a second thought (and even a slight blush, which he pinned as wishful thinking, which he pinned further as his imagination) and had consented to go with him again the next day, and the day after that, until it became a nice routine.

However, leaving her with a kiss on the cheek was something he only seemed to be able to do when he was "suitably intoxicated."

Oh, wait. Hawk, you idiot. "You don't know how to say goodbye to your friends?"

She nodded. "I know I have to," she murmured slowly. "But… it hurts. I'll miss them."

"Leaving is quite inevitable. I think you'd regret it more if you avoided it and said nothing. And… I can't answer this question for you. You already know the answer." A little miffed at the solemn tone of their conversation, he smiled teasingly and added, "Dopey."

That made her smile back.

"There's something else troubling you, isn't there," he half-asked, half-stated.

She shook her head. He always knew she'd been a bad liar.

x-x-x

Now blanketed in night, the world took its gruesome form. Huddled in a blanket and clammy with cold sweat, Kyo wished she had answered the hunter's question properly. One issue was that she didn't want to go crying to Hawk with every little problem she had, particularly the ones he couldn't solve. Another was that she didn't know exactly what was wrong.

Her hands were wrapped defiantly around the sucsamad knife, though when the time came, it would give little protection. Her skin burned and made a sickening contrast with the cold air. She couldn't stop shaking. Her breathing was slow and shallow. She wouldn't sleep. She would spend another restless night huddling her useless weapon in fear.

It was beginning to happen more and more often. This would be the second night in a row. Only when she was alone, in the darkness. With the night, there came something… evil, and she sensed it. That made her afraid. But what made her quake was that it could sense her.

She felt the same dread that wrung her mind frail and dry before Arie was destroyed.

She didn't know what it was. There was some… life, with indomitable anger, and she felt drawn to it. Not in any particular direction. She would never be complete until she found it, but when she found it, she would die a horrible, painful death by its rage.

The anger, though not her own, made her head spin. A knot formed in her throat and stung, and her bones ached. She was young, and frail as a twig. Anger did not cloud its mind; with its mad, lustful determination, it knew how best to cause agony. It knew torture, it knew hate… and with a black roar promised the destruction of Midgard.

She felt it, and she felt the dank nothingness that would come of it. It stung her as it swept over her skin in coarse waves of fury. She threw the duvet over her head, tears streamed from her eyes, and she wished for protection. She heard Tassy stir in her sleep, but it soon became apparent that Kyo was the only one who knew what was in store. She was alone.

x-x-x

"Will you two hurry up? They're loading the cargo onto the boat as we speak."

Hawk didn't bother looking into the girls' room. There were a lot of mad scrabblings coming from it, and he was pretty sure he shouldn't see what was on the other side.

"I'd be ready in no time if I could just find my blue dress," Tassy whined. "Kyo, you've been tidying again, haven't you."

"It was under my pillow, Tassy, a place where your clothes shouldn't be if they can possibly help it."

"I would've known where it was!"

Kyo didn't reply to this. Taiken joined Hawk in slumping exasperatedly against the wall, slapping his palm across his forehead.

"Is nothing safe from your tidying?" Tassy raged on.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're a compulsive neat freak!"

"You drive me to insanity!"

"Before this little shouting continues," Taiken interjected loudly from his slumped position, "May I recommend you check your wardrobe, Tassy."

There was a slightly stunned pause, and the sound of Tassy pulling a dress from her wardrobe. A second later, the dancer peered around the doorway at the men, with a blank, bewildered expression sewn onto her face.

"… Thanks, Taiken," she mumbled, then going back into the room and closing the door behind her.

Taiken sighed and settled back into the slump, while Hawk silently marvelled at the bard's ability with… diplomacy. The girls edged back into conversation, and from what Hawk gathered from Alder, they seemed to be making up.

"Kyo's been looking quite upset recently," Taiken whispered. "Has she said anything to you?"

"There is something bugging her," Hawk admitted. "She won't say anything about it. Should I insist on finding out, or leave her be?"

"You know what she's like better than I do, so I say press the matter. Gently thou-… what's wrong?"

Taiken had been silenced by some sort of strange fit from Hawk. The hunter shuddered and clapped a hand over one side of his throat. There'd been a soothing effect in the pit of his stomach, and a tingling sensation over his neck.

"I…" He was about to add "don't know", before Alder informed him that it was only Kyo. The falcon was perched on the girl's arm in her room while she ran a hand over the bird's neck. It was a nice feeling, and Alder wanted to share. "… It's nothing," he said stiffly, as it was, of course, a bit of a lie.

It was a nice feeling, if incredibly creepy. A soft hand coursing silkily over his skin, despite said hand being at least ten feet away. But it felt so much nearer… as if she were right next to him. It was a very nice feeling, soothing and gentle… he closed his eyes with a relaxing sigh. He even allowed himself to smile.

"Hawk, what-…?"

"Hush a minute."

Taiken made a question noise, but kept quiet as requested. It was peaceful, pleasant, silent… The hunter quite forgot where he was. He didn't need to worry, as long as there was this kind, sweet presence near him. It felt as though he were vanishing in tingling waves of happiness where he stood…

Alder took off through the open window, leaving Hawk with a vague, sloshy feeling that made him sway serenely on the spot.

"Are you feeling alright?" Taiken asked with traces of either astonishment or impatience.

Hawk looked mildly at his companion, suddenly in very pleasant humour. "I'm absolutely fine."

"You worry me sometimes – it's like you're still at that awkward age."

The hunter blinked once or twice, then laughed. "What is this dreaded awkward age?"

"You know… before you're properly an adult. But then I wouldn't know, would I."

"I turned eighteen on Midsummer." There was a pause. "Is something wrong?"

"I just wasn't expecting you to tell me that," Taiken replied uneasily.

Kyo and Tassy emerged quietly from their room, Kyo with her sparse belongings slung in a bag over her shoulder, Tassy in a long light blue dress. They avoided looking at each other, but Tassy quickly clasped Kyo's hand affectionately as they made their way out of the school. Hawk regarded the Arien girl curiously, wondering whether she could possibly know about the tender exchange that Alder had passed onto him. He realized with slight embarrassment that he'd enjoyed it, and it occurred to him that the remedy to his sorrow was something as unlikely as a dancer from Arie of all places.

But she isn't exactly ordinary, is she…

It felt too much like a weakness.

He had to mask whatever he felt about the situation, however, as the seniors and instructors had gathered in a solemn, chatty crowd to see Kyo and Taiken off. There were a lot of hugs and whined good byes from bards and dancers Hawk barely knew. There were also a few jokes about broken hearts thrown in the general direction of Taiken, along with some "happy birthdays" for the following week. Hawk wasn't paying attention though. He was still rather miffed about this new feeling of frailty, and it made him angry. The frustration confused Alder immensely, and it in turn made the hunter even more confused.

The noisy rabble traversed across the town in bitter recline and over-exuberant talk. Kyo had clumps of people latched affectionately to each arm. Draco, Ruriko and Chisel were a little astonished.

When they got there, boarding the boat was an incredibly lengthy process; Oshi radiated waves of disapproval from the gangplank. Hawk quickly paid his respects to Aravis, and was met with a hug. He boarded the boat with as little fuss as possible, the sound of good-byes and farewell pecks ringing chaotically behind him.

He rested his arms on the side of the boat, and sighed weightily; he wasn't sure why. He was further surprised when Oshi came and stood next to him. The assassin didn't even cloak his movements. Alder swooped down and landed on Hawk's shoulder, a bronze eye fixed boldly on Oshi's face.

"Did you like it here then?" he asked at some length.

The hunter frowned lightly. "I think I probably did."

"Kyo seems to have liked it a lot. The people here are excessively nice," Oshi allowed carefully. He paused, checking Hawk's reaction. "Why are you so hesitant?"

That was confusing. "What do you mean?"

"You and Kyo," the assassin replied instantly. "It's so obvious you want each other; why don't you just tell her and let it be over with?"

Hawk's mind became a huge blank. Obvious? What…? He quailed under the accusing stare of his companion.

"It isn't difficult, is it?"

No answer.

"You don't understand any of it, do you?"

No answer. Hawk was beginning to feel immensely embarrassed. "No. Who put you up to this?"

"Taiken, but he did it by accident."

"… What? Nothing Taiken does is by accident." And I'm going to murder him.

Oshi gave a loud cough and a dry snigger. "Well, I think you'll find that that isn't the case. I say "by accident", because he's actually quite anxious for the pair of you at the moment. I suppose his anxiety was transferred onto me. Taiken cares about all of us a lot more than you think."

"Does he now."

"You must have a very thick head, Hawk," he carried on with acidic sternness, "to be able to regard Kyo with such indifference to her feelings. It's rude and insensitive to try and deny what you realize."

"How is it rude and insensitive? And besides, I don't even know what to think of her, or us as a couple if that is what you're implying; has it not occurred to you that maybe this is quite a big thing for me? I would've thought you of all people would understand."

""If that is what you're implying"… by the void, Hawk."

Hawk kept his eyes on the ocean. It looked white under the weeping clouds. Anger was welling up in his chest, and even more so because Alder was actually taking Oshi's side. The falcon actually went so far as to transfer himself onto Oshi's shoulder. That made Hawk feel nice and betrayed.

"You just don't understand it, do you." The assassin received the bird bemusedly. He turned and faced his companion, who kept his gaze determinedly on the ocean. Cold, grey eyes bored icily into the side of his head. "Kyo needs you. You know what that word means, don't you? You don't need for me to explain why, do you?"

Hawk snorted. "Needs," he repeated incredulously.

"Yes, Hawky-poo, needs." Hawk whirled around. It seemed everything about the assassin's manner was designed to get on his nerves. "OK, so Taiken put me up to that, but that's beside the point, OK? …Now, Kyo witnesses the destruction of Arie, is the only one who survives, and loses everything, deducing that she might have prevented it. Her mother and everyone she has known are dead. With her isolated little village gone, she has to face the rest of the world alone. But what is this? Lo and behold, a mysterious rescuer appearing from nowhere. He is kind, and looks after her, even lets her into his guild, where she is properly taken care of and even schooled."

"I've… never looked at it that way," the hunter replied stiffly. He felt his irritation subside slightly, looking back on the events that led to his meeting with Kyo. He'd threatened to kill her… after what she'd been through.

"Yes, I noticed."

It appeared Oshi had nothing more to say on the matter. He sat down cross-legged against the wall at the edge of the ship. Hawk felt a twinge of hurt when Alder nipped the man affectionately on the ear before returning to his partner. Oshi looked curiously at the bird.

"Does it always do that?" he asked, every inch his normal self again.

"He only does it to people he likes; his way of being affectionate," Hawk replied, a little bitterly.

Oshi gave one of his dry sniggers. "I remember you said once that the bird was exactly like you."

"I was wrong," Hawk grumbled, giving Alder a stern look; he was still feeling vast amounts of reproach towards the falcon, and was trying to block out his attempts at condoling.

"I don't think you were actually."

Hawk tried to ignore the last comment. He evidently failed, as he stared at Alder in a mixture of censure and curiosity. Draco's voice tore through their silence.

"You two are so grumpy," she said affectionately. Ruriko was latched onto her right arm, bobbing lightly. Chisel trailed his cart.

"Well, it'll be nice and quiet this time around," the blacksmith sighed happily, letting himself sink into a sitting position. For the journey home, they were travelling on a merchant's ship that was carrying barrels of mastela wine and, strangely enough, a lot of shells – no one had any idea why. They were, however, expected to help around on the ship as payment. Ruriko was to conjure a wind and quieten any storms, which she was extremely miffed by; she heartily disapproved of large-scale weather magic.

"You are aware, Ruriko, that we probably owe our lives to large-scale weather spells?" Draco had sighed exasperatedly.

"No."

"I think you'll find that those rainstorms in Morroc that came once a month were actually the work of weather wizards – the Morroc monsoon season stopped coming quite some decades ago. Everyone would die of thirst, had it not been for the weather wizards."

The girl was satisfied with the answer, though ever resentful at being proven wrong.

The others were to be part of the crew, apart from Taiken and Kyo. Although it wasn't said aloud, it was accepted that they were just too puny for the work. The way the captain worded it was "not quite strong enough." He did, however, ask that he should see Kyo dance, and hear Taiken play.

Taiken and Kyo were striding into view, Taiken with a sullen smile and Kyo looking quite put out. Her wrists were quite covered in various new bracelets, all hand-made, no doubt by the seniors. She was also carrying a sheet of paper, which, from what Hawk could make out, was covered in doodles and little messages. He also noted that her bag of belongings was considerably fuller than it was when she had left her room. With the pair was the captain, a man by the name of Irvine, who brought a whole new meaning to word stocky.

"Are we casting off then?" he asked, rubbing his dish-like hands together. Taiken answered yes. "Right, if I could have the two gentlemen here below deck getting the anchor," he said, indicating to Chisel and Hawk, "and could the madam and the young sir be spreading the sails. Any time you're ready with your spell, lovey."

They were dispatched to their various positions, and soon meeting with the rest of the crew. It was dark, despite the bright white day outside. There was a heavy, masculine smell of meat and sweat. Chisel seemed to win the other men's approval instantly. They regarded Hawk dubiously, as he kept silent and had a slightly menacing looking bird perched on his forearm.

The order to cast off rang stoutly through the ship, and Hawk followed everyone else in wheeling the anchor in, which took a lot of heaving at a weighty wheel-like device that wrapped a heavy cord around it as it went. He quickly realized why Taiken and Kyo had been labelled not fit for the work.

There was a heavy, buffeting sound from above, and the sails were spread. A magical wind edged into existence outside, and the ship was speeding along the waves. Meanwhile, the musicians in the harbour called their final farewells, wishing good luck and making clear how fond they were of their friend.

Having been berated by Oshi, Hawk was in a sulky mood, and was not inclined to look forward to the next few days.

-X-X-

"Lies!"

Arne slapped his forehead, which made the barons wheel around.

"I don't see what this has to do with you, wizard. You certainly have some nerve," snapped Braxin haughtily.

"I think I should be the one saying that, since you are somehow able to turn a blind eye to a turn of events which could well lead to the destruction of Gonryun island," Arne replied.

"If such events have taken place."

Arne narrowed his eyes, and the baron quailed beneath the icy glare.

"Akiro is hovering somewhere between life and death, the old court is sealed, twelve monks are dead and one of the champions is out of action, and you still manage to spin this into some sort conspiracy?" said Orius. His tone was even, but there was something of anger creeping into his manner.

"Before we continue in our validating of the word of a Champion of Gonryun, one who has sworn himself to never lie, might we try and find some sort of connection between this and the other issues laid at our door? This is an argument of great intellectual capacity, I'm sure," Tristan interjected sardonically.

"I hear you had a visit from Ruriko and her sister," offered Orius, "did she mention the creature called "Phreeoni"?"

"They did mention something about "their own little crisis", but they didn't mention that thing specifically."

"They're not worth listening to," grumbled Meron. "Technically, I think you'll find they are a criminal guild."

"Well, damn, it would appear that I have enlisted their help," the prince replied blandly.

"That woman is supposed to have been a member of the assassin's guild; she and the girl were banished from their family. One of them is the son of a necromancer. They've recently recruited a survivor of the destruction of Arie, and her mother was a dark priestess."

"They are respectable people."

"That is what people say. They say the sage is an intelligent girl."

The barons sniggered. Arne felt his anger beginning to stir. "She looked pretty idiotic to me. Rude and stupid."

"I heard she was a reputed beauty. Horrible, skinny freckled little thing."

"Are you done?" interrupted Arne darkly.

"Strangely enough, I think you'll find there are very few people who won't question the accuracy of that description," Orius commented dryly. "Having been her teacher, I can tell she is intelligent, and neither I nor her sister ever raised her to be rude."

"We're stirring a little off-subject here, aren't we. I'm dismissing you, barons," grumbled Tristan, who was now slumped in his throne. They filed out of the room, carrying dark mutterings about the "insolent prince."

"Arrogant buggers," Arne hissed.

"Now, now, Arne," Tristan soothed from above. "One day, they will see the light."

"I realize that, your majesty, my only problem is that that day isn't now."

"Well, anymore comments about Ruriko and I think I'll have to kill them," murmured Orius.

"Yes, and I'll help you."

"A pretty thought, but right now, we need a messenger. Marius, would you be so kind as to go to the northern forest around Umbala, and find Sinensis, the ranger, and ask him to send a note to the God's Cry informing them of these recent developments? No doubt they will make more sense of it than we have. If they have stayed true to their schedule, then they should be sailing for Aldebaran now."

-X-X-

The majority of the crusader guild were now stationed around the ruined Geffen. Shigeru had split them into four regiments, each defending one of the city's four gates. Shigeru himself guarded the east gate. He kept with him his good friend and second-in-command, Khan Peregrinus, a boisterous young man with boundless cheer. He came from a family of hunters, dwelling in the Payonese Mountains. Shigeru and his childhood friend Kenji were beginning their training as swordsmen, and were immensely surprised to find Khan begging to join them. Shigeru had been the lad's mentor ever since.

Khan was in the process of searching for survivors in Geffen. Gruesome work, true, but he'd rather get it over with quickly and be tending to any living swiftly. So far, the signs were not promising. He reported his findings back to Shigeru, camped at the eastern gate, who then ordered him to put together a list of the deceased. Again, not a particularly cheering task, as some of the bodies were so mutilated that there weren't any distinguishing characteristics.

"Well, let's at least be thankful for the survivors in the chapel," Khan said brightly.

Shigeru laughed. "If you weren't so optimistic, I don't know what I'd do."

"It isn't really optimism," Khan mused. He didn't fully understand his nature, but he wouldn't call it optimistic. "If something's going to be as mind-boggling as say… this," he said, gesturing to the ruined streets beyond the crumbling wall, "then don't bother trying to figure it out; just get on with your business."

"Ah… so just shut off your sensitivity when things get tough." The paladin shrugged. "Well, it at least helps my mood."

Khan saluted and dismissed himself. He set off back into the city with his squad – a group he had known since he first became a swordsman.

The sun was setting, but within Geffen, it already looked to be nightfall. The sight was disgusting. Paves were dislodged and cracked beneath their feet. Houses had been smashed and their rubble lay across the streets. The walls were streaked black with burns, then with red smears of dried blood, like some gruesome graffiti. Geffen Tower loomed untouched overhead.

They patrolled the city not only for bodies, dead or alive, but also for any remaining monsters.

"You are aware that at some point we have to clear out Geffen Tower?" Runa asked quietly.

Khan turned to face her, as did the others. "Yes," he allowed mildly, "but we're just waiting for the go-ahead from Shigeru."

"We could really do with someone who actually knew the people who lived here," sighed Malathos with disgust. He was knelt over the body of a woman. Her stomach had been clawed open. Her neck had been bashed horizontal from her shoulders, and one side of her face was splattered completely in blood. Her mouth and eyes were widened in horror. Her arm was bent into a very inhuman-looking angle.

Khan let out a loud exclamation. "Look at the uniform; that's one of the High Wizards!"

The other three leaned over, and, as if on cue, gasped collectively.

There was a dead pause. Khan thought hard about the descriptions he'd heard of the High Wizards. "Well, it isn't Ivas," he offered.

"Does anyone else ever feel a bit cruel sending these… disgusting bodies back to the distraught refugees to be identified?" Runa wondered aloud.

"Yes."

"… Well, let's get her back to camp."

"What happened to the Whitesmith guild? I don't remember hearing them mentioned in all of this."

"Most of them were in Prontera at the time anyway; the ones who remained here were killed. We'll have to be getting their bodies as well. We're looking for Konstantine, Miré and Sophia. They were all fairly young."

The dead were being piled onto some carts ready to be taken back to Prontera, where they would be identified and buried honourably. The death toll mounted dramatically.

Khan sighed, and beckoned for his friends to follow him back into the city. They did so, Runa hurrying forward to check his mood.

"You don't have to put on a strong front all the time," she assured him gently.

"I don't," he replied. "This is just a lot harder than I thought it would be."

"You're doing well."

He nodded grimly, half-understanding the words. The sun sank lower in the sky, and Geffen darkened. Runa surprised everyone by lighting the rosary around her neck with a mage's spell of sight.

"A sage called Ruriko taught me," she explained with a shrug. She strode to the head of the group, casting an amber light around the place. She brought them to a halt at a crossroads, and held the pendant in front of her and scanned the area with narrowed eyes. The light stayed over one place for a while as she inspected it. She drew her sword at one point and readied herself for an attack.

"What is it-?" Yashiro began, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. Khan readied his lance and cast an anxious eye over to where the red light threw shadows haphazardly over the rubble. He saw nothing. But he could hear something…

"Runa-…" he tried to say; he hated the feeling creeping up the back of his neck, when you could hear something dangerous but you couldn't see it.

"This way," she said, indicating. "It doesn't seem to be dangerous."

It wasn't; they found what they'd been looking for very quickly. A little bundle of clothes. The figure inside the clothes was a little indistinct; whoever they were, they were hunched over and crying. A survivor? Khan decided it must have been a miracle.

"Are you OK?" he called, running forward. The others caught up, healing chants at the ready. "Who are you? How did you survive?"

It was a boy, and Khan noted from the attire that he was a swordsman. The child didn't show his face, but kept his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't respond to crusaders; he didn't even acknowledge their presence.

"Come with us," Runa urged in her gentle voice. "You'll be safe soon. We shouldn't stay here too long."

Khan watched the swordsman for some sort of reaction.

Nothing. No answer.

"Can you hear us?" the paladin asked uncertainly.

No answer.

Khan listened, and soon found words in the boy's sobs.

Why…

He drew back slightly; something was very wrong. Of course, they'd left no survivors; this boy couldn't be…

A gloved hand seized him around the head, so quickly that it didn't look like anything had moved at all. The other four drew their weapons ready; Khan could feel their frowns. His attention was wrenched away from them, as a voice rasped in his head: I hear you. Where are they?

"They…?"

Khan panicked as his vision blackened. What's going on…? An image sprang to life in his mind; the first was a young man. He must have been a sage. His face was stricken, and blood was creeping down his forehead. His expression hardened, and he yelled, "Vaya pro stillo iero né!" Khan didn't understand the words. He didn't need to though, as the image changed. He didn't notice the change; one moment, he saw the sage, then he was looking at a girl dressed in dancer-like outfit, though that of a kind he hadn't seen before. She was very pretty, whoever she was. She turned and fled.

WHERE! the voice demanded again.

"I… don't know," Khan replied, shocked again to realize that there was the boy invading his thoughts. His vision returned groggily, as if he had just woken from a very long sleep. He stared at the swordsman.

Something was wrong.

This boy wasn't human.

"What… are you?"

The swordsman brought his head up and stared at him. His eyes were full of hate. If ever malice took form, it was then, in the boy's chaotic, red eyes.

Khan re-gathered his thoughts, mustering all his ferocity. He grabbed the lance forgotten on the ruined street. This boy was not human.