(A/N: Okay, this is dark. I mean, really dark. I know logically, I can't tell you that if you're ten or younger you can't read this, but I will tell you to brace yourself. This is violent… But it's pretty violence! realizes nobody gets the joke but herself… sigh You'll get it when you read. R&R PWEEEASE! BTW, no reviews this time. Computer trouble. (readers roll their eyes) NO! It isn't an excuse! But I love you all! sigh Just read, dang it. I'd type more, but... My dad'sscreaming. (sigh) I'm SOOOOOOOOO buying a newlaptop. Two really quick acknowledgements on the reviews board. Because I can't go there, someone asked if I had Hemophelia. Pretty close. It was almost the same thing, but not quite. Idiothrombopsytopenia. My spleen basically tried to kill my body. BUTI WON! MWAHAHAH! And Gingy Mittens? Hope I got that right. Just checked my e-mail. I was going to do some Jenna/Alex pairing. I'm still looking for a spot, because so often, the dialogue and whatnot focused with Felix and Saturos and Menardi. There's an opportunity SOMEWHERE! I just need to find it.EVERYONE ELSE! I LOVE YOU! DON'T THINK I DON'T! YOu're ALL WONDERFUL! And for those who asked. We might be down to three chapters now. I intend on going all the way up to the tidal wave for aftereffect. The Epilogue willgo into Isaac's group, and a hint of a beginning for theNEXT fic in this series.

And on the latter note before this gets messy... no A/N at the end of this one. (Tcha...Like anyone reads it all anyway.)It was so intense, I don't want to break the mood. ENJOY! This is by FAR one of my favorite. It was even thunder storming when I wrote this. )

Part 26: Blooding

"Come on," Haren growled at Jaesn.

Jaesn paused, breathing heavily. The second soldier was slung over his shoulder, his red face hung beside the young man's. "We can't… leave him… behind," he murmured, voice broken with breathlessness.

Fatro paused. He turned, listening to the two bicker.

"Jaesn if you don't let him go, you'll—"

"I can't!"

"Enough."

The two stopped, watching as Fatro jogged back to the youngest of his group. He motioned for the boy to lower the soldier on his back. The boy attempted to, falling to one knee and dropping the body, sending up small clouds from the soft dirt road.

Fatro frowned, staring at the shattered face, caked in red and dirt. He pulled off his gauntlet, grabbed for the other and removed it as well. He gently prodded the broken cheeks, but the man didn't move. He sighed, pressed his fingers to the man's neck, waiting for a moment. He took in a deep breath.

"Well?" Haren asked softly.

Fatro waited a moment longer. He pulled his fingers away, wiping the blood off on his tunic. He looked at the boy beside him. "Jaesn…"

The young soldier let out a struggled sob, pressing a dirty hand to his forehead. "No… no, no, no…" He continued his soft refrain as he struggled to slide the arm back over his shoulders.

Fatro put a gentle hand on the boy's forearm. "Son, he's gone."

Jaesn shook his head, sniffing heavily as he tried to pull the body up.

"Give up, boy," Haren snapped. "He's nothing but dead-weight now—"

"Haren," Fatro hissed, sending an infuriated glance in the man's direction. He fell silent. His gaze returned to the boy. He reached out, put a hand on the boy's shoulder as the arm slid from his grasp. "There's nothing we can do for him, Jaes—"

"I said I'd watch him!" the boy exploded, slapping his hand away. "How can I go home and tell them he died! How can I face my mother… She…" The boy dissolved into sobs again.

Fatro licked his lips. "Jaesn… I know… what you must be feeling. But you must understand, it wasn't your fault—"

"It was that… thing!" Jaesn stammered. His breathing was frantic, his voice raising in pitch with each passing moment. "He… he just… just did… something!"

"Boy," Haren murmured, stepping forward. "You're still alive. You got a family to think about." He let out a quiet breath. "You did what you could… and so did your brother."

Jaesn shook his head violently, sobbing into the back of his hand.

"Haren is right, Jaesn," Fatro said softly. "You couldn't have stopped that monster." He stood, holding his hand out to the boy. "Come on now, boy. It's time to be moving."

Jaesn wiped his nose on his sleeve. "I can't just leave him, Captain… let the wolves take him…"

"Jaesn," Fatro said softly, disguising his urgency with concern. "Get up, or we're bound to encounter something far worse than wolves!"

"Too late."

A bright flash came from the trees. Fatro shielded his eyes, stepped in front of Jaesn. A cross of blue against the light. It faded and another was with them. The man in blue, his bare palm pressed against Haren's face. Fatro turned to face him as Jaesn scrambled to his feet.

"Let him go!" Fatro roared.

The man's eyes narrowed as his free hand dropped his pale-sky colored glove to the dirt. "Tell me, Captain," he said dryly. "Have you ever seen a man drown?"

Haren was wild now, clawing at the hand against his face, eyes searching the sky. His nails drew up red from the man's hand, but it didn't move. His long fingernails only buried themselves deeper into the soldier's face.

"They drown themselves, really," the man said softly. "They insist on beating their fists against the water, thinking that flailing themselves about in such a foolish manner will same them. Ultimately, it is what will kill them." Haren was beginning to cough beneath the hand. He was turning blue.

The man smiled, continued. "Their faces are all the same after it happens," he said dryly. "I tended to a girl that had drowned once. She was unable to be saved, but she was so… beautiful." His free hand reached up and touched the soldier's face. Haren grappled for it, struggled with it a moment. His movement was slowing. He was slowly going white. Moisture dripped from his eyes, but they were not tears.

"Her lips were pale, lined with foam." He smiled. "Tiny bubbles. A froth. Her eyes had gone grey and marine, like a watercolor. Her skin; white, pure as ivory. Only a touch and it would fall away from her body, like thin paper.

"We found her on her belly in the ocean, still staring down. Her mouth was lulled open…" He smiled. "Like she was singing."

The man pulled his hand away, and the man before him fell to the ground. His eyes were blue and gray where they should have been white and gray where they should have been brown. His mouth was round and lined with foam. Screaming. Perhaps singing.

The man turned to them, pulled off his other glove and dropped it to the earth. Haren was dripping, turning it to mud. The wind sent a current through the trees. The foliage began beating their leaves together frantically.

The man stepped forward. His hands were trembling at his side, his eyes gone a primordial shade of blue, something too deep to be tangibly described. "Be grateful," he said softly. "You will die beautifully."

Fatro grappled for his sword, pulled it from the sheeth. He swung, stopped midswing.

The man's hand ran maroon, the blade held between his thumb and forefinger. His lip twitched, eyes only betraying a moment of pain. He took in a sharp breath, pressing his other palm to the blade. Small circles of white began crawling up the blade, a soft whispers to the hilt. Fatro panicked, stretched his fingers and wrenched away. The man smiled, as he frantically tugged, hand frozen to the sword.

It crawled up his arm, curlicues of soft ice. He opened his mouth for sound, but found none. White lines shot up his neck, caressed his face until he was a watercolor. Crystals formed in his eyes as quiet icewhispers covered his mouth, his lips. His body went blue, frozen as though he were to be a marble statue.

The man let go of the blade, both palms slashed open, covered with blood. Fatro never moved, still stood, all covered in fine frost, eyes and mouth agape. The man looked at Jaesn who started to run.

He outstretched his hand and the ground turned to mud. The boy slipped, crashing to the ground with a harsh snap. It splattered over his face and clothes as he struggled to lift himself to his elbows. He was shoved to the ground by the back of his head, the heel of a boot pressed to the back of his skull.

Alex sneered. "I'm not finished with you yet."

The boy flailed about wildly, coughing at the mud, slowly squeezing into his lungs, through his mouth, his nose.

Alex's jaw set, his teeth ground together. "Stop struggling," he growled, pushing harder.

The boy forced himself up, throwing Alex off-balance. He stumbled backward as the boy scrambled from the mud. He reached to his feet, but fell back against the dirt road, coughing up mud, frantically struggling for breath.

Alex frowned, lips curled in rage, and began walking toward him. He grabbed the boy by the collar of his tunic, slamming him into a tree, splattering mud back on himself.

The boy stared at him in horror. "I… I'm not the only one!"

Alex let out a quiet laugh. "What?"

"There's more," he coughed. "Lalivero. You…" He coughed, bringing up moist dirt and blood. It rushed down his chin as his horrified eyes watched Alex. "You might have taken us… but—"

"Lalivero?" Alex said, slightly amused. "This is meant to frighten me?" He released the boy. "Fine. Show me to these reinforcements."

The boy coughed again, stumbled away from the tree as the man started down the path. "Wh-when the others arrive," he said, faltering and grasping the tree for support. He stared at Alex, his green eyes dark with carnal fury. "Y… you won't survive!"

Alex suddenly rounded on the boy, grabbing his by the front of his shirt. "Do you honestly believe that even one hundred of you could defeat me!"

The boy cowered. His coughing increased. Alex scoffed, releasing him. He crumbled to the ground, coughing red and black. He stared at him. "How amusing… This I must see."

He started down the path North, the sun gone red in the distance, casting a vibrant glare on the ocean. Jaesn was still coughing frantically, his fingers fumbling for the potion on his belt. The footsteps faded in the distance as Jaesn fell to the ground. He pulled the potion out, fingers weakly struggling with the cork. It came out with a soft pop. He lifted it weakly to his lips. They quivered forward, then fell back. His hand dropped with a soft sound, the green liquid silently dripping into the earth.

Saturos shouted angrily as his blade crashed against the boy, Isaac's blade. His wound screamed at him, reopening. Thick red trickled through the scales that graced his shoulders. He pulled away, stepping back and kicking his cloak to the edge of the aerie.

Isaac had already leapt at opportunity, and was instantly in motion. The boy was more agile than Saturos remembered, youth still thick enough in his blood to give him a bit of an edge.

Saturos let this thought fall as the second boy lunged at him, the massive, bumbling not-yet-man that Isaac had been foolish enough to bring with him. He moved with half the grace of his slender companion; his body that had grown too quickly for him, large and clumsy in his control. But between the two of them, Saturos found himself breaking a sweat.

It was only a thin film over his brow, magnified ten-fold by the rising humidity. The sun was pouring blood over the clouds, and Saturos itched to end this. The boys presented slight challenge to him, though he refused to admit it, even to himself in silence. Even Menardi was looking worried.

The Imilian girl was talented to say the least. She'd shrugged off the heavy cloak, still carried with her from Imil, making her movements more quick and precise. The tiny one, Ivan, flitted about like a firefly, spurting tiny wind-spells between the swings of his tiny rapier and the hurried avoidance of Menardi's scythe.

Saturos turned away from the second battle, back to his own. His body was hot beneath his skin. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but he couldn't help but feel the battle had been going for too long. His arm ached as the wound gaped wide. His sword seemed heavier, and his psynergy, weak from the battle that had occurred only hours ago.

The boy, Garet, lost his balance as Saturos turned out of the path of his swinging axe. He fell with the momentum, opening opportunity. Saturos flung a handful of flames at the fire adept, even as he tripped over his own feet. The boy cried out in shock more than pain, but Saturos was already occupied with the second boy.

He lunged forward at Isaac, no one there to protect him anymore. The boy leapt, dodged, swung, turned, slashed, each movement meeting Saturos's own, more like a dance than a battle. But the two partners never touched, never even grazed one another.

Isaac spun out, away from Saturos, out of the reach of his blade. Saturos took a step backward, expecting the boy to charge. He turned his sword over his wrist in a broad circle, taking another step back, breathing deep and low, chest rising and falling in a heightened tempo.

The boy's jaw worked in a slow circle, his blue eyes glazed over in the red sunlight burning behind Saturos's bright silhouette. The girl behind him cried out. She fell to the ground as Menardi slapped the Ivan-boy away with the blunt end of her staff. The girl was holding her stomach, red blossoming around her middle, the fabric fallen away. Menardi lifted her staff as the girl's heels dug in the marble, scrambling backward.

Isaac turned on Menardi, freeing a hand from his sword and slapping it open-palmed on the ground. The marble shattered in a line toward Menardi, suddenly opening wide. She turned just as a massive vine flung itself, full force, toward her. She flew through the air, slammed hard into one of the marble statues. It cracked at the hips, sediment sprinkling her head as she groaned, coughing for breath.

Saturos leapt toward her, but Isaac stepped in his path, hand outstretched. Saturos dropped his sword, holding out both open palms. The vine hurdled toward him, the entire mass prepared to fling itself down upon his skull.

Saturos pressed his hands closed. The vine stopped, suddenly lurched as it changed from green to brown. It writhed as it grew smaller, blackening until it was a fine, thin ash. It fell to the ground in front of Saturos, black catching in the wind. Isaac took a step back in shock.

Saturos felt his jaw set, and he opened his palms again. Flames rushed over the small wind adept, on his feet and charging Menardi. The girl, Mia turned as Saturos closed his palms together, pointing them at her.

She dropped her staff, both hands spread apart, suddenly surrounded with a fine mist. The water bubbled and hissed against the bright flames, thrashing wildly about her. She let out a quiet cry, dropping to one knee. Saturos's gaze set and he pushed his hands together until he could hear his bones moving beneath his skin.

It came as a blur, a small figure of blue and gold. The movement was wild, sparatic. Saturos felt himself scream. He fell back against the floor. He looked at his arm, his wrist, cut all the way to the elbow, red pouring about him. Isaac stood over him, his blade poised for attack, He shifted his grip, breathing hard.

Saturos ground his teeth together, pushing himself to his feet with his good arm. He grabbed for his sword, nausea suddenly taking him. He swayed backward, catching himself. The red emptied from his arm over his blade, drops catching against the fine silver fabric of his pants. His vision left for a moment, spots of red and color popping in and out of a black canvas.

A sharp pain rushed up his arm as he blocked. He jumped to one side, tripping on what suddenly appeared as uneven ground. Isaac was already there, his sword ringing through the air. Saturos blocked the blow, turning his wrist and locking Isaac's sword in his. The boy grunted, pulled at his blade, but it refused to budge.

Saturos's limbs burnt as he pulled at the boy's sword. His arm was black now. His vision almost gone. He was losing blood too quickly. He shook his head in a sudden movement, hoping to shake it off, but it returned, tenfold. He shouted in pain. Isaac was driving his fist into the wound on his shoulder. Over and over. Damn Alex and his foolhardy visions of glory.

He fell to one knee, as Isaac continued to pummel, his fist shining as it caught the dying sun. Saturos was nearly on the ground now, his sword dropped beside him. Isaac pulled away, his sword in hand. He flipped it once in a broad circle, took a step back. His upper lip twisted and he lifted it over his head.

Saturos felt his body relax, his eyes shut in waiting.

There was a scream. Isaac suddenly spun, free hand groping behind him. He turned from Saturos, his back laced with a broad red stripe. Menardi's fists wound around the staff of he scythe, eyes like blood and fire, her bright frame seemingly taller in the red light.

Isaac was gasping for breath as he turned, Menardi already in motion. She swung at his head, the boy narrowly avoiding as he rolled to the ground. He attempted to turn back up, but Menardi's boot caught the sash flung over his shoulder. The boy fell back to the ground, grabbing at his neck and coughing violently, pulling the scarf away. Menardi kicked her foot behind her, pinning the boy flat to the marble, pulling it taut. Isaac's face was reddening, then suddenly went violet. She flexed the fingers on her right hand, left hand gripping the scythe, the switched hands and repeated the gesture. The boy was coughing, wind knocked from his chest. Menardi, swung her scythe out behind her, and brought it back toward the boy.

A light flashed behind her and she was flung forward, toppling toward the edge of the aerie. She swung out her scythe, thrusting it deep into the marble. She came to a tight stop, letting out a small shout as her legs dangled from the top of the aerie, only held by her scythe and the marble floor. The tile popped slightly out of place. It was pulling away from the aerie. Saturos coughed violently, rolled over to see her, his arm reached out in a vain effort to reach the woman, entirely too far for him to reach.

Menardi groaned, pulling herself up with a slight hop. She landed with knees bent fully to the ground. Her hair flailed around her fair face, spotted with blood that leaked from her forehead. She reached up with a blush-tinted sliver hand, wiping it from her eyes, but really only smearing it across her already red clan markings.

Mia had rushed over to Isaac, hurriedly lifting the boy to his feet. "I'm fine," he coughed. "Get Garet."

She hurried away as Menardi started toward Isaac. The boy took several frightened steps backward, and Menardi struck, cobra-fast. Her blade and Isaac's locked, the curve of the scythe catching the sword tight. She twisted her wrist, pulling the sword from Isaac's grip. Isaac watched it clatter across the marble, skittering to a stop at the edge of the aerie. He moved to grab at it, but a sudden line of fire fell in his path.

Menardi's fingers clenched into a fist and the flames jumped up, leaning toward the boy. Suddenly, the flames grew small until all the remained was the burnt mark on the white ground.

She looked over her shoulder. Garet's hand was outstretched, calling back the flame, Mia's hand on his shoulder, glowing with healing power. Ivan was rising from his place on the ground, holding one shoulder tenderly, the skin red and violet from where the fire had licked the fabric from his tiny frame.

Menardi looked about her worriedly, face to face, each staring at her determinedly. She turned from Isaac, turning her staff on the girl. In an instant, she released Garet, her staff snapping against her palms, summoned to it's user. She caught the blade against the silver middle of her staff. She almost repeated in exactness Menardi's motion, smiled as she did so, twisting her staff over her head. The blade of Menardi's scythe snapped back into place, staff clinking against the aerie marble softly until it rolled to a stop.

She stepped forward, but Garet reached out. His boot nudged the staff slightly. She heard it clatter once toward the edge, slid from the marble and into the clouds below them, then…

Then it was silent.

Her pulse sounded loud in her ears and eyes. Her body suddenly ached. She stepped back as the others advanced. Isaac strode forward, sword now retrieved and in hand. He pointed it at her. "Surrender."

Menardi's jaw tightened and she flashed her teeth at the boy. He glared at her and swung behind him, rushing toward her.

"Menardi!"

Menardi turned, catching sight of Felix. He threw. The tiny dagger was a spot in the dark, the sunlight blazing hard in her eyes. She was blinded in the sunlight, fumbling in the air for a weapon, like a drowning man fumbles for rope. Her hand wrapped around cool steel, and relief ensued. She winced. A sudden, sharp pain told her she had caught it by the wrong end. She gasped, but held fast. Her second hand reached up to take it, turn it right. Both hands covered the dagger, her back stretched wide.

A sharp shudder rushed through her body. Warmth flooded her mouth. She coughed it out, looking down at the red-covered metal, the shining end visible just under her ribs. She let out a soft sound, a breath of shock. She followed the line of metal over her shoulder. The boy Isaac held his blade at an angle, straight through her middle. He stared in horror, like a cornered animal, unable to move. He stood for many moments, Menardi only supported by his blade. He slowly slid it from her slender frame, she crashing to the ground, red pouring around her body.

She coughed, startled at the pain rushing through her. Her body paniced, adrenaline making her head spin. Her hand lurched behind her, head slowly turning.

Saturos lay on his belly, arm stretched toward her, mouth gaped open in silent screams. His fingers stretched, nails driving against the marble as though to pull himself closer. A tear drew a line through the red on her face. She mouthed his name, a hiss of air coming out. Her head fell hard against the marble, her chest heaving as though crying, but making no sound. Her breathing was shallow, as was his. His face touched the marble, cool to his fevered cheek.

Felix stared. He couldn't move his gaze, even as his stomach beat itself against his ribs. He felt sick. Weak. His legs would no longer support him. An odd rush went through his body. He crumbled to one knee, then the other. He didn't cry. Didn't sob. But his mouth hung open in fragile shock. Tears silently flooded the bottoms of his eyes.

Garet looked at his friends, his face twisted with confusion. "We…" He looked at Isaac. "We… did it. Isaac!" He began laughing, running to his friend and shaking him excitedly. "We won!" Ivan let out a breath of relief, rubbing his shoulder as Garet grabbed Mia, spinning her around in broad circles, both laughing and crying with joy.

Isaac looked ready to collapse. He smiled tiredly, limping over to the other side of the aerie where Sheba stood beside Felix. Her face was unreadable, dispassionate toward one or the other. No joy. No sorrow. Isaac stepped toward her. He let out a sigh, a smile lighting his lips. "Alright, Sheba…" He murmured, his hand outstretched. "Let's go."

Sheba stepped forward, hand outstretched to meet Isaac's. A small hint of relief turned a smile over her lips, and her step quickened. She came to a sudden stop, pulled backward by her wrist.

Felix rose, thrusting the girl behind him. His eyes met hers, but he said nothing.

Sheba's eyes grew large, glassy. "What?"

"Felix?" the boy Ivan murmured. "Wh… what are you doing?"

Felix turned to them. His hand rested on his sword. "I cannot give up Sheba."

Garet's jaw dropped. "What!" he demanded. "We just saved you!"

Felix stepped forward toward his fallen companions. He shoved Isaac away from where Saturos lay, Isaac bumping into Mia with a startled gasp. "I never asked you to help us," he murmured, carefully rolling Saturos onto his back. The Proxinian's front was caked in blood. He took in a deep breath, trying to speak. Felix shook his head. He set his hands on Saturos's face, trying to call up some small healing spell.

Saturos shook his head with what strength remained. "Don't," he coughed, weakly trying to push him away. "Don't waste your energy…"

"Saturos," he said softly, his voice caught by the lump in his throat. "You need help—"

"Menardi," he coughed. "Help Menardi…"

Felix scrambled the distance between the two Proxinians, falling to his knees at Menardi's side. Her eyes were clouded, a bloody hand reaching through the air at him. He caught it before it fell short, reaching for the potion on his belt. He gently touched Menardi's side. She let out a quiet breath, mouth formed to scream. A tear crawled over his cheek as he began emptying the salve over her wound.

"Felix…"

He didn't start at his name. He wasn't listening.

Mia stepped forward. "Felix, you're not one of them. You're free to go now…" A hand rested on his shoulder.

He leapt to his feet, slapping the hand away furious. Mia stumbled back toward the group as he drew his blade, swinging it back at her, watching each of the group.

Isaac was staring at Felix in what could only be described as horror. Felix's eyes locked on his friends. He looked down at the sword in his hand, looked back at the others. Isaac was trembling. "Felix," he murmured. "Why are you doing this?"

Felix licked his lips, took a step backward. He swallowed, turning his back on the group, looking at the two before him, breathing softly, gathering the last of their strength. "The four beacons must still be lit."

Ivan frowned. "You… you're going to light the beacons!" he gasped. Rage bubbled in Felix's chest. Ivan continued "Felix! … that's ridiculou—"

"I felt you'd say that," he growled, rounding on them. "But I'm going to do it anyway."

Garet looked the same way he had the day of the flood. Confusion written on every line of his face; torn, ready to dissolve at any moment. "But…" He looked frantically between Isaac and Felix. "If you still mean to light the beacons… that…" He swallowed hard, looking at Isaac. "That makes him… our—"

"Enemy," Isaac finished curtly.

Felix kept his eyes on the boy, saying nothing. His eyes were narrowed, and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Isaac shook his head. "Felix… please," he whispered. "Don't do this… don't be a fool—"

"A fool?" Felix demanded. "Is that what you think I am? What do you think you're going to do to stop me?"

Isaac shook his head, breathing fast. "The Wise One said… We can't let you… I…" He looked at his friend helplessly. "Felix," he said, his jaw setting tight. "I don't want to fight you."

"But will you?"

Isaac said nothing.

Felix let out a quiet scoff. "Do what you will, Isaac. But if you try to stop me…" His eyes grew dark. "I will fight you." He turned, thrusting his hand down to Saturos. The Proxinian reached up for it, rubbing blood over the boy's pale gauntlets. He looked at Felix thankfully, then turned his dark gaze on Isaac. "I hope you don't think we're finished," he murmured. He nodded at Menardi, whom Felix returned to. Saturos straighten his step, tried to stand tall. His knee suddenly gave way and his fell against the ground.

Felix helped Menardi up, her arm around his shoulder. Her eyes were still clouded with dizziness, but the bleeding on her side had slowed.

Mia tapped her staff against the metal, stepped forward between Isaac and Garet. "You may not be finished, but you can barely stand."

"Right now, yes," Menardi said, looking over at Saturos who was struggling to one knee. "But we'll be back on our feet…" She smiled, flashing her teeth at them. "As soon as we do this."

Saturos dumped the gem from its bag onto his palm. With the last of his strength, he shoved it toward the gaping aerie hole. It rolled slowly across the marble, quietly tinkling as though filled with tiny bells.

Then they realized what it was.

Garet swore as Isaac pushed past Mia, diving for the tiny gem. He crashed against the marble, fingers sprawling for the star. But they were just out of reach. The star tumbled into the hole with a tiny ping, and disappeared.

"No!" Ivan gasped.

"That's not all," Saturos murmured. He lifted himself up. His face showed the struggle he'd made, but he didn't return to the ground. He threw his shoulders back as Menardi pulled her arm away from Felix. She swayed slightly, but Felix returned her balance and released her.

Isaac, shoved himself from the marble floor, rounding on them, blue eyes blazing. "What do you mean!" he shouted.

Saturos smiled, curving the line of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Isaac bristled. "What have you done!"

Saturos looked at Menardi, smiling. "The energy of the beacon will restore our power."

Garet's lip twisted. He scoffed. "How is that possible? Venus is an Earth element." He looked at Isaac. "Isn't it?"

"Yes," Isaac growled, sword in hand. "They're bluffing."

"Earth can't be a source of power for Fire Adepts," Ivan added, as though this statement would end the discussion.

Light suddenly erupted from the aerie, filling the entire expanse. Murmurs ran over the groups, shielding their eyes from the brilliant light. It slowly faded, leaving only a hair-thin beam rushing up from the center of the lighthouse. Tiny sparks flittered around the beams, catching fire and fizzling away, only to be replaced by twice as many. Thunder rolled across the blackened clouds as wind picked up. The red sun was only a sliver for a moment longer before it disappeared into the ocean.

Saturos bent down, picking up his sword. He looked at Menardi; she straightened herself, lifted her chin and wiped away the blood. The line ceased flowing. She glanced at Isaac. "Fire and Earth share a symbiotic relationship."

Saturos grinned. "You see, Isaac. You and I aren't so far apart after all." The boy bristled as Saturos pointed to the beacon behind him. The wind was rushing now, his hair flailing wildly about his face. "This light will restore our power."

Mia swallowed hard. "We'll fight you as many times as it takes!" she screamed over the wind. "We will not lose!"

Saturos's jaw set. He turned to Felix. He put his sword into the scabbard, and untied it from his belt. He pulled the third and final mythril bag off as well. He pressed the items toward Felix, leaning forward and speaking softly. "Take them." His eyes had gone nearly black. The azure marking on his face were fading.

Felix's breath caught short in his throat. "You're dying—"

"Not yet," Saturos murmured. "Not now."

"But…" Felix looked at the blade. "Sol? You can't give it to m—"

"Take it, damn you," Saturos growled. "Is it so difficult to ask you to accept a gift?" He swallowed hard. "Guard it. Guard the star, guard Kraden and Jenna, guard the rod…" He glanced over where a very confused Sheba was standing, staring at the aerie in horror. "Guard the girl. Get her as far away from here as possible. Do it now."

He stepped away, leaving Felix very confused. He walked to Menardi, her face almost entirely white, shades of red almost entirely gone from where they once crossed over her eyes. "It's time," he murmured.

She nodded. "Yes… Yes it is." She held out her hand, slit down the center by the dagger, she pressed it against the wound, now barely gaping from Saturos's wrist.

He turned and looked at the group before him. "You may have beaten the two of us," he murmured, looking at Menardi.

She nodded at him, wind thrashing her hair wildly around her. "But now, you face the true might of the Fire Clan of the North…"

Isaac's jaw set. "We've beaten you once, and we'll do it again!" he screamed over the wind. The four scrambled into a line, augmenting their last defense

Menardi looked over at Felix who was staring at them worriedly. She swallowed hard. "Felix! Take Sheba and leave here!"

Felix stared at her, confused.

Saturos glared at him, urgency in his throat. "Felix! When we finish here, we may not have the strength to protect her! You must take her to the ship without fail!" Saturos felt his body grow warm, his blood mixing in with Menardi's. His strength was growing.

Menardi felt it, too; a sudden rush of heat, like intimacy without sensuality, or perhaps visa versa. Her body began to ache with the need to change. Her spine curved; it was beginning. She shoved it down angrily, staring at the boy still on the aerie. A mother-like rage built up in her throat. "What are you waiting for!" she sobbed. "Go! Now—!"

"I can't leave you!" Felix shouted. His voice was tight. He tied the stone to his belt, pulling out the Sol Blade. "I can't let you fight them alone!"

"Felix!" Menardi screamed. "Go!"

"No!" he shouted, tears running down his face. "I can't!" He looked at Saturos helplessly. "We're a team, Saturos! Remember!"

Saturos stared at him in horror. "He can't stay here…" he murmured. "We'll be too dangerous, he could be killed."

Menardi spoke up, just enough for Felix to hear her answer his statement. "I wonder if that's true."

Felix frowned. "What was that?"

"Wouldn't you be just a little sad to see your childhood friend perish?" Menardi shouted to him.

Felix's eyes grew wide. She'd struck deep this time. "What are you saying—?"

"I'm saying you're here to protect this brat from your past!" Menardi roared.

Saturos looked at her in horror. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Do you really think I would help them!" Felix demanded, tears running down his face. "After all we've been through!" She said nothing. He swallowed hard. "Menardi!"

Her eyes welled up with tears. She clenched her teeth, and struggled out, "Let us say I wouldn't put it past you!"

"Menardi," Saturos gasped.

Her nails dug into his arm. "Hurt him to save him, Saturos," she said, tears running down her face. "It's the only way."

Felix looked shattered. His glossed eyes turned to his mentor. "And you, Saturos? Do you agree?"

Saturos swallowed hard. "I can't do this, Menardi—"

"If you don't he could die!" she hissed. "There's no other way, Saturos! Hurt him! Hurt him now!"

Saturos swallowed hard. "I wouldn't… say… that," he managed softly. Felix's features softened. Saturos's gut wrenched, and he shouted out the last of his thoughts with a bitter taste. "But it would be best not to raise our suspicion!"

Felix stiffened. His face flushed and he let out an angry sob. "Now who's telling whom what's best?" he demanded. Saturos stared at him helplessly, but said nothing. He shoved the Sol Blade back into the sheath. "Fine," he growled. He stormed over to Sheba, grabbing her wrist. "I'll take Sheba for you!"

"Felix, no!" Isaac screamed.

Garet jumped forward. "We won't let you go—!"

Mia screamed as Garet fell backward. He stumbled away from the path Felix was dragging a kicking and screaming Sheba down. Lightning struck the marble floor in front of him, stopping his pursuit. The air grew thick and dark. The beam in the aerie sparked violently. Two dark figures still stood at the edge, eyes glowing red against the darkened sky.

Saturos's arm wrenched under Menardi's grip. He let out a cry. His bones were snapping out of place, growing. His voice had changed. "Felix is the least of your worries now."

Menardi gasped as a sharp pain shot through her arm. She tried to hold in a scream but she couldn't. A burning sensation all over her body, each curve and gap, as though she would erupt. She was glowing, but it was no longer she, nor he. It was they.

Mia took a step backward. "They're…" Her thoughts trailed off.

Sparks hurdled from the two, they were both screaming. Her hand no longer rested on his wrist, nor did his arm touch her. It was the same limb. The same body. A white-heat was melting them together, an involuntary catharsis. She could taste the fear, like salt on the back of her throat. Their throats.

He was crying. They were crying. It was a burn far deeper than death, and hotter than life, wrenching around in a womb too young to sustain it. A fiery surge rushed into their body. Bones snapped into a wide arch. His chest was hers, his spine crunching against hers. He was far deeper in her than he could have ever been. Her face brushed his face. Necks were beside each other. The scales that graced his back and shoulders rushed like river water over his frame, covering his, every crevasse, every curve of his body, her body. He knew it as though it was his own. And it was.

She screamed beside him, her hand groping at their chest as their knee broke backward, twisted the wrong way. The spine snapped, forcing them down on all fours, like animals, pushing them deep into one another+. All that was sentient in them was fading. It was the wilderness. Ferality was all that was in them. He heard her speak his name, but it was no longer in their tongue. He moved to speak, but the pain was growing.

Garet stared as Isaac pulled him back.

Ivan scrambled backward, jaw gaping open in horror. "Th-their psynergy!" he stammered. "It's overflowing!"

"Isaac!" Mia screamed over the wind.

"It's too late!" he shouted over the cries of the two Proxinians.

The bright figure grew, screaming intensified. Garet lifted a hand to shield his eyes. One form. One figure. "They're fusing!"

"They've merged into one another!" Ivan shouted.

Mia stared in horror. The words escaped her lips at a whisper. "I've heard of this…"

Isaac looked at her, confused. He grabbed Ivan by the cloak, pulling him back. They were losing ground. The figure was growing. "Everyone get back!" The light flashed once, brilliant enough to shatter glass. The group cried out, fallen hard to the marble.

Back hung on Isaac's vision. Slowly it cleared. He was staring up at black clouds, slashed with red as lightning spiked across it. He pushed himself up on one elbow, cradling his head. He opened his eyes.

"Oh my—"