Here's the next chapter, I hope all of you enjoy it :)
Tenma Kirin - Here's the next chapter.
human dragon - Thanks so much, I hope you'll like the next one.
Ryner510 - Haha, I can imagine it as well. Poor Mira. I'll make sure to do something nice when Night Terror returns. Thanks for reading.
Keyblademaster 21177 - I'm so glad you're enjoying it. This will be a very important chapter that I have been waiting for months to write. I know what you mean the Phobos arc. This arc will included this chapter, the next and about half of the next one, then Night Terror will return to Fairy Tail and it will mainly follow the story from there. I would probably do one or two chapters in between canonical arcs for NT to train, but that's about it. I hope that's alright.
I'm sure NT could make shadow servants, although he probably wouldn't like to use them because he finds the idea uncomfortable. I personally don't like the thought of somebody serving me or being my butler (bloody social anxiety), Thanks for reading.
Djinn - Thanks as always. I hope you enjoy it.
wellingtonlucas282 - No problem, I hope you like the next chapter.
NinjaFang1331 - Thanks so much.
Blaze1992 - Oh so sorry. I hope this chapter answers some questions.
Neo Infinity - You're welcome, thanks for all the support.
Re Lovely Lover - I know what you mean. In the original story, he seemed to get off lightly despite threatening to kill people, but I suppose it was Levy's choice whether to forgive him or not. Thanks for reading.
ikusatsunagi - No problem, glad you enjoyed it. What happened to Muireall will be revealed in this chapter.
MDM11 - I don't want to give too much away but I'll try my best to include your requests. Thank you so much for reading.
Skull Flame - Thanks so much.
K. God - You're too kind, thank you so much. I'll make sure to include more stories in the future.
Lelouch of Zero - I'm glad I surprised you with his grandfather returning. There will be a lot more revelations in this chapter. Yeah, I felt a little bad for Mira, although this will not slow her down. I've been hoping to do a chapter where the Strauss siblings first meet Night Terror, probably one based on the OVA episode where they go back in time. I'm really happy that you like the descriptions, it took a while to find the right words to set the scene. I have no idea what you mean about any slip up (coughs nervously) Its just a coincidence that it will take exactly seven years to fully grow. Ahem, I did enjoy writing the scene with Arthur. By the way, Arthur's real name is actually Artos (meaning bear in Celtic) but he changed it to something less Phobian. I'm glad that you enjoyed the chapter and I hope to hear from you again.
Guest - Everyone seemed to enjoy Mira's failed plan so I'm really happy about that. Things are certainly starting to heat up. You can tell I've wanted to write this chapter for a while. Thank you, hope you like the next chapter.
Thank you all for reviewing :)
Speech in italics is Timorin for convenience
Chapter 15: The Night the Island Burned
"Grand father," Night Terror muttered in disbelief.
The 79th Grand Master, Condhuine, of the Phobos Clan and the man who taught and raised him since he was young slowly descended the steps and stood before him.
Alive for all the years.
Night Terror could no longer hear the crackle of the funeral pyre that still burned. His legs had became numb and his breath had caught in his throat. He felt a million indescribable emotions rush to his heart, making it tighten painfully in his chest. Joy for knowing he was not alone, sorrow that there was nobody else still around, confusion at what was happening before him, and anger at himself for not returning sooner.
'Of course he would be alive,' he scolded himself, 'he is the Grand Master, one of the most powerful Phobos and possibly one of the greatest mages on the planet. The one who destroyed a thousand invading ships at the Leth-eilean, slew the thousand headed Nathair, and defeated Sùilean Dubha in a duel at the battle of Beinn Mhòr. He's the wisest Phobos in history. If anybody could tell me what happened it would be him.'
Night Terror looked at Condhuine's stoic expression, waiting to hear him speak and bless him with the knowledge that he needed so desperately.
Suddenly Condhuine cocked his head and gave him a grin.
"So, how you you been?" he asked cheerily.
...
...
...
...
"HOW HAVE I BEEN!" Night Terror bellowed in fury, "THAT'S THE FIRST THING YOU ASK ME!"
"Well, of course," he answered with a chuckle, "How else do you start a conversation."
He kept a smile on his face as he leaned his back to avoid a swipe from Night Terror. He then proceeded to casually slap every single punch and kick Night Terror sent at him. Night Terror's attacks were a blur to anyone spectating, but Condhuine was a Grand Master for a reason.
"Bastard!" Night Terror shouted as he continued to bombard the elderly man, "I'm so tired of your jokes!"
Condhuine laughed, "I hope you don't fight like this in the Outside Lands. I'm using my weakest hand as well."
Night Terror growled and aimed a powerful kick to his bald head, but the old man simply caught it and kicked his other leg from under him. Night Terror fell backwards, but Condhuine caught him by his collar before he could land on the ground.
Night Terror looked down at his hand before peering though his bandages up at his grand father.
"Thanks," he muttered bitterly.
"I just didn't want you to crush the flowers," the Grand Master informed before moving him from above the flower bed over to the stone path and letting him go.
Night Terror grunted in pain as he landed on the path. He was about to get up, but something jammed into his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. He looked down and grimaced as he recognised the two meter staff that Condhuine was pinning him down with.
The Elder Staff, made of Coille Iarainn by the 31st Grand Master, this dark wooded staff with two leather grips is passed down from grand master to grand master as a weapon and a symbol of power. Many enemies have been slain and defeated despite its rather plain appearance and is said to be indestructible...however, Night Terror knows it as an irritating and painful stick that his grandfather uses during training. Being thwacked by it was almost nostalgic.
"I hate that thing," Night Terror grumbled.
Condhuine nodded, "I know you do. Now can you calm yourself. We're at funeral," he said, lifting the Elder Staff off him and letting it sink into his shadow.
He turned back towards they pyre and bowed his head respectively. Night Terror sighed, stood up and did the same thing, the two watching the cremation in silence. After a few minutes, Night Terror turned his head slightly to his grand father.
"Who are we commemorating?"
"Aífe," he solemnly answered, "the fish monger."
Night Terror raised an eyebrow, "She died seven years ago. How has her body not decomposed?"
"Death may be inevitable, but rot is trivial," Condhuine said, "I had used Fear magic to prevent decay. Every single one of our people deserve a proper burial."
"But-"
"Please leanabh," the Grand Master firmly interrupted, "I'll answer your questions later."
Night Terror frowned, but nodded in understanding. He was being disrespectful and there were much better times for his inquiries. He looked back at the funeral pyre, bowed his head and prayed for poor Aífe
The Bodhaig
The sun was beginning to set when they buried Aífe at the slightly denser part of the forest. They had mixed her ashes with that Craobh Dorcha tree and carried the ashes in a urn down the Mount, through the village and towards the edge of the Anam. It took a while for them to get to the burial place as the procession involved many people to participate. Night Terror laid chrysanthemum petals on the road while Condhuine carried the large metal urn over them. It also didn't help that his grandfather couldn't go very fast, however he didn't dare drop the urn, no matter how painful it was for him.
They dug a hole, poured in the ashes, and covered it with soil. Night Terror had never been to a funeral before and didn't know what to expect. However, before he could ask Condhuine gently pushed him back as a dark twisted stem sprouted from where they had buried the ashes and briskly rose into the air. Higher and higher and thicker and thicker, the stem became a tree trunk and produced dark branches that ended in sharp points, until it became a Craobh Dorcha tree. Suddenly other black stems sprouted from the area around it and grew into mighty trees just like the first one. Soon the previously bare area was populated with Craobh Dorcha trees, making the forest complete.
"How many trees grew just now?" Condhuine ask, unexpectedly.
Night Terror frowned, "I...don't know. I think about forty or so."
Condhuine snorted, "She told everyone she was thirty," he chuckled in amusement before walking back towards the entranceway, "Come on then. I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
Night Terror looked back at the trees once again before running after him, "Why have you delayed everyone's funerals until now."
"I haven't," he answered, "I told you everyone deserves a proper funeral. So, everyday I carry one our people up the Mount and cremate them at the funeral pyre. After they have turned to ash, I lay the petals and perform the procession all they way out here. After they're buried, I chop down the tree, ready for the next funeral. It's a lot of work doing it all by yourself and I ain't getting any younger, so it usually takes a whole day rather than a few hours."
"You've done this with everyone. One day for each Phobos," Night Terror uttered in astonishment, "but that would take-"
"2797 days," Condhuine answered for him, "or around seven years. Aífe was the last one I had to bury."
Night Terror bowed his head guiltily, "I should have returned sooner."
"You returned when you needed to return," Condhuine told him, "do not feel guilty for things you could have changed and focus on things you can change in the present. So, are you going to tell me why you look like you have been partially mummified?"
"I...turned into a Deimos," Night Terror sadly answered.
"Rather irresponsible of you."
"You're not mad at me?"
"I can never be mad at you, Leanbh," Condhuine told him, "But why are you still covering your face. You're home now."
Night Terror shook his head, "I can't. Not yet."
Condhuine glanced up at him, "You do not have to punish yourself for what happened. I do not blame you."
"It is not a matter if you blame me or not. I caused this. All of this. I am nothing more than a curse," Night Terror snapped.
They walked in silence after he said. Night Terror taking deep breaths to calm himself and Condhuine waiting patiently for him.
"My apologies," Night Terror eventually said, "I just...do not want to...not until I redeem myself."
"Of course," Condhuine told him, "I do not want to force you."
Night Terror hummed, "Grandfather, what happened here? Who attacked us? How did you survive?" he took a deep breath, "Where's Muireall?"
Condhuine raised his eyebrows at that last question. He stopped and looked at him, surprise clear in his expression.
"You don't know?"
Night Terror shook his head, "I was hit with a memory curse. Grandfather where's Muireall?"
Condhuine didn't answer. He just stared at him with unreadable expression.
"She's...she's dead...isn't she," he whispered, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.
He didn't not answer again. He closed his eyes and sighed wearily.
"I see. This will be much more difficult for you."
"Grandfather?"
He looked up and smiled pleasantly, "Do you remember the tree we used to sit under. I made sure to keep it safe for all these years. Perhaps we can talk there."
"But-"
However, Condhuine had turned away and was already walking to the entrance before he could protest. Sighing in despair, he wiped away the tears and followed him.
Underneath the Oak Tree
Condhuine shakily sat down beneath the tree. It took him a while and had to use the trunk of the tree for support, but, once he was comfortable, he patted the ground beside him, wanting him to sit with him. However, his smile wavered slightly when Night Terror shook his head.
"I prefer to stand."
"Of course," Condhuine said in disappointment.
"Grandfather, I...know about him."
"Him?"
"Him," Night Terror repeated, "the person who had destroyed our home. The Phobos Slayer."
"Phobos Slayer," The Grand Master chuckled, "That's what you decided to call him."
"It is nothing to laugh about. He...is still out there. I don't know what he wants or where he is but we need to stop him..."
"Leanabh."
"...I found another Phobos, Arthur, he does not want to be part of this, but you can convince him..."
"Leanabh."
"...I have no idea where he is, but I'm sure if we can-"
"Leanabh," Condhuine firmly interrupted.
Night Terror stopped and noticed the pained expression on the old man's face. It was as if the more he talked, the harder it was for him to bear.
"Can you tell me what happened to you that night?" the Grand Master requested after a moment of silence.
Night Terror frowned in slight annoyance. He was the person asking the questions, however he reluctantly complied and told him what he remembers. He told him how he was at the docks when he saw the dark plums of smoke rising from the Anam. He ran as quickly as possible and saw the fields have been scorched and the village was enrobed in flames and dark smoky figures on horseback cutting down innocents. He told him how he ran to get him, but once he climbed Elder's Mount, he saw the Phobos Slayer. That memory of him was so clear he could reach out and touch him. Once he was done, Condhuine could only gaze at the ground beneath him thoughtfully.
"I'm sorry, Leanabh. This will be very hard on you."
"H-how do you mean?"
The Grand Master took a deep breath and looked up at Night Terror sadly, "The memory curse doesn't just hide your memories, it sometimes reinvents fake memories and convinces you that they are real. It's a sign that you are getting closer to remembering the truth."
Night Terror stood back in shock, "No, I can see it clearly."
"You can see it clearly because it's what the curse wants you to see," he calmly told him, "are you not curious as to why your memory of the Phobos Slayer is so accurate but the other memories are so obscure."
Night Terror got on his knees before the Grand Master, "Then tell me what happened."
"I can't," he sighed.
"Why not!"
"Because no matter what I tell you, the curse will tell you it isn't real. You've had this curse for seven years and over time it has got stronger and stronger and now that you're close to breaking it, it's starting to panic."
Night Terror gritted his teeth as a searing pain erupted in his head. It was like when he turned into a Deimos, but it was different. When he was about to transform into a Deimos, the pain was caused by a number of emotions stemming from his guilt, anger and sadness. However, this pain was as if he he found a glass wall in his mind. He was on one side and the truth was on the other. The glass wall pushed and pushed against him and putting up a great fight, but he could see cracks forming at the edges. He just needed one more push, one final revelation.
He was so distracted by this pain that he didn't realise that his grandfather had to hold his shoulders as he was thrashing around wildly. He has a compulsion to just get away from him and just accept the memory that curse tells him.
"You're so close, Leanabh, but you need to fight it," Condhuine told him.
"SHUT UP!" Night Terror yelled, "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! STOP LYING TO ME!"
He had no idea why he was shouting. Either the curse was making him say that or he just wanted him to be quiet. Maybe both. It didn't matter. He was fighting the wall, but he was losing.
"I'm sorry," Condhuine said as tears started to stream from his eyes, "I know it must be difficult. But you only need one question you can ask yourself. Just one question that can break this curse wide open."
"I-I-I can't..." Night Terror stammered in agony.
"Just one question. One small anomaly that doubts the curse's lies. It could be anything. Just one small thing."
The glass wall was now pushing him back, crushing him, overpowering him. He can't breath, he can't think think, he can't do anything. But there had to be something. Something that just wasn't right. He ran through the events once again in his head, trying to see if they was anything out of the ordinary. But the more he searched, the more he suffocated. What was the curse trying to hide from him. All the while, his body was starting to convulse and spasm against the Grand Master's firm grip. It knew that it was close to breaking and was physically making Night Terror move and run away.
"Please, Leanabh, you need to try and think," Condhuine said as he held him down, "What was strange about that night."
Night Terror's eyes snapped open and, with fury in his tone, he bellowed,
"WHY WAS I AT THE DOCKS?"
The question echoed across the empty fields. He suddenly stopped thrashing around and considered the question.
"Why...was I...at the docks?" he repeated to himself, "Why wasn't I there at the celebration?"
Suddenly, the cracks at the glass wall grew larger, stopped crushing him. That's when other questions emerged and things that didn't make sense. Every question, doubt and anomaly encouraged him to form a fist in his mind and punch the glass, causing it to splinter more.
Was I meeting somebody there?
Crack!
How did the Slayer and the men on horses get on the island?
Crack!
How did they even find the island?
Crack! Splinter!
There was no way that the Slayer could learn Fear magic from Muireall's book. It was in Timorin. Why did I not realise that before?
Crack Splinter! Snap!
Even if he did understand the language there was no way he could be so powerful in such a short period of time.
Crack! Splinter! Snap! Crackle!
How did they know when to attack us at our weakest?
Crack! Splinter! Snap! Crackle! Split!
'None of what I thought makes any sense,' he thought, 'There can't be a Phobos Slayer or revenge or anything. There was another reason why the Phobos fell. What was it!? I need to know!? What happened on the night the island burned!?'
And with one final punch to its fractured surface...
...the glass wall smashed to millions and millions of pieces...
...and suddenly...Night Terror remembered.
The Island of Fear
Seven Years Ago
The young Night Terror shivered in the cold night. He pulled the cloak tighter around his body and tucked his legs underneath himself to keep himself warm.
It was not wise to be out in the Bodhaig at this hour, the creatures were much more vicious and it was almost impossible to get back to the Anam. If he was told to wait here on the wooden dock then he shall wait. He listened to the waves lap gently on the sandy shore, and watched the stars shine brightly above him. Even at this distance, he can hear the muted sound of the festival taking place, celebrating the summer solstice in the name Samhradh, the goddess of Summer.
It's not like he wanted to go to it anyway. Or rather, the other Phobos don't want him there. It's not as if they chased him away or told him to go, the boy reckoned that it would just be easy for them if he wasn't there.
He was nothing but a waste of space anyway.
The boy had been waiting for about an hour now and he was getting more annoyed by the second. He held his head and his hands, too exhausted to do anything else.
"Where are you?" he questioned to nobody.
A piercing cry broke the calm night and the boy's head snapped up in shock. The cry was followed by more and more screams of pain and anguish. One part of the boy's told him that there was nothing to worry about and the cries were from the creatures that lived out on the forest. But another part, the more sensible part, knew that he was lying to himself, that there was no trick at play.
No matter how impossible it was… the screams were coming from the Anam.
He leapt to his feet and took off into the forest, not caring about the darkness, or the monsters, or the trees branches scratching his face. He needed to go back. The boy saw smoke start to drift above him. At first it was small but it soon became thicker and darker, looming over the running boy.
"No," he pleaded to nobody, "not again."
The night sky of the Anam was gone, covered by the thick black smoke that rolled overhead. The stench of burning filled his nose and lungs with its horrible odour. Night Terror sped past scorched earth and lit trees to the village which had now become a depiction of hell itself. Fire had enrobed his home, crackled, spat, raged, feasted on the buildings. Panic stricken Phobos either ran or tried to fight the fire back, but it was too late for it. The sounds of hooves on cobblestones caught the boy's attention and, before his eyes, men in black armour rode out of the flames and attacked anybody in their way. Men, women, children. It didn't matter to them.
Night Terror's eyes widened when he caught sight of one particular rider. He would never forget such horrible features like his black dirty hair, his scraggly beard and his blood red eyes.
"Take everything! Burn everything! They're ain't scary anymore!" he ordered, bloodlust clear in his eyes.
'That's Buia. The leader of the raiders who attacked Elend. What are they doing here!?'
So distracted by his confusion that he didn't notice the raider ride up behind him, aiming to bludgeon his head. He would have succeeded if somebody didn't pull him out of the way in time. The boy looked at who had pulled him away and saw that it was Master Gealtachd, head of the Mania kin. She wore a black and brown leather beaked mask that covered her head, the most recognisable feature of her kin, but the rest of her outfit was a dress. It was clear that she had put the mask on in a hurry. She turned to the confused raider who had tried to hit the boy and spewed a purple gas out of the tip of her beak at him. As soon as the raider inhaled the gas, his eyes went wide in fear and screamed as if his worst nightmare had emerged before him. He fell of his horse, landing painfully on the ground and giving the opportunity for the Master to impale his heart with a long metal blade which were attached to a gauntlet. She took it out, flicked the blood off it and dragged the boy by his arm down a road away from the carnage.
"You killed him," the boy gasped in shock. He had never seen someone kill anybody before, let alone another Phobos.
"There's no time for that," the Master told him, peering down a side road before deciding it was safe, "They came out of nowhere and torched our hall. They captured the Beasts and the Night Terrors and rounded them up at the market. They were our best fighters. The Nightmares and Mania are doing what they can, but the Faceless Ones can't use their magic without destroying everything in sight," they darted down another road, avoiding a raider before continuing on, "you need to find the Grand Master and bring him back here."
"Wait, he's not here?" the boy questioned in confusion.
"No, he decided to stay on Elder's Mount," the Master told him, "I don't know why."
They had made it to the other side of the village and to the foot of Elder's Mount. The Master stopped them just before the path and kneeled down in front of him.
"Bring him down. We need him," she ordered.
"But I can fight as well," the boy argued, looking into her masks round eyeholes.
They eyeholes were converted by tinted glass but he knew he was staring into the Master's eyes.
"I know you can, but I need you to this, okay. Our Clan's lives are at stake," she told as he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, "We're sorry for how we've been treating you these past months. We shouldn't have ostracised you. We'll make it up to you after this is all over, but you need to get the Grand Master and I need to find my husband and son. Can you do that for me?"
Her words were soft and caring, the boy knew that she was telling the truth. He looked up at the top of the Mount and then back at her before nodding in agreement.
"Good," she said, smiling from under her mask.
She quickly took off her gauntlets on her hands and put them onto his.
"Flick your hand to eject the blade and push the tip of the onto a hard flat surface to retract them," she told them, giving him a brief demonstration.
The blades, one she had used on the raider, shot out of the gauntlets and the boy pushed the tips of the blade to retract them. The gauntlets blades were two long for the boy, but luckily they were still light enough.
"Use them if you run into trouble," she told him before standing up and running back to the village, "we're counting on you, leanabh," she called out over her shoulder.
The boy watched her until she had entered the fiery village before turning away and sprinting up the Mound. He didn't stop for a single breath although his lungs felt like they were burning and kept running around and around up the mound until he reached the summit.
It was almost the same scene, but now it was clearer. His grandfather kneeled in defeat before the figure just outside the library, the entire area in disarray as if a fight had taken place.
However, there are things that were different. First of all, the lower part of the Grand Master's body green…no, now that he's got a better look, it looked like it is slowly turning into jade. His grandfather was becoming petrified and stone curse was eventually creeping up his neck.
Secondly, the door to the library had been swung open to reveal a bare room. All of the times had gone from the shelves, something that hasn't happened in millennia.
Thirdly and most devastatingly was the Phobos Slayer. The boy did recognise them, but not from Elend and he surely didn't need to see their face to confirm it.
He heard Condhuine speak to the Phobos Slayer, but it was clear that he only caught the end of their conversation.
"…I may have one last trick up my sleeve," he calmly told them.
The Phobos Slayer growled, "You're petrified. You can't do anything to me."
The Grand Master raised an eyebrow, "I never said I would do anything," he cryptically said before staring past them at the boy.
The Phobos Slayer turned as well and the boy gasped at what he saw.
The figure wore a simple black robe, but their head was uncovered by its hood. The figure had long curly red hair, fair skin and deep blue eyes, but the colours of their hair and eyes now seemed muted and their skin was deeply pale as if they were a ghost. Black veins had risen in their face like a dark spider's web. Dark rings surrounded their eyes, making them seem so hollow and empty and they would later become the subject of his nightmares for years to come. There was no life in their features as if they held no love for anything.
He wanted to see the man from Elend. He needed to see him…but it wasn't him. It was someone way worse.
The Phobos Slayer and the boy's eyes widened when looked at each other, but only the boy was brave enough to utter any sound.
"Muireall…"
The Top of Elder's Mount
A few minutes ago
The Grand Master waited patiently on the step of the library. His heart broke when he saw the hall erupt in flames and the screaming started and yet he didn't move from post.
He had a greater purpose.
In a blink of an eye, a figure stood before him, their head covered by a dark hood. Condhuine sighed sadly and stood to his feet while the stranger growled in annoyance.
"You should have been at the celebration, old man," the figure spat.
"So should you, leanabh," the Grand Master calmly responded, "There's no need to hide your face. You and I are the only ones here."
Muireall scoffed before pulling down her hood, revealing her lifeless face. She observed the old man and was slightly taken back his appearance. Despite his tranquil words and indifferent expression, his eyes were cold and fierce as a raging storm. She had never seen the usually cheerful Phobos act like this, but she had heard the stories.
The fury of the Grand Master of the Phobos Clan.
However, she denied to be scared by a stupid old man and glared back at him. She was so close to her goal.
Condhuine closed his eyes and shook his head, "What have you done to yourself?"
"What I needed to do since you didn't give me any choice."
"This path is one you have forged yourself," the Grand Master said in despair, "I sense anger, hatred, and spite in you. Do you believe those emotions create great decisions? What of family and your friends, do they think they agree with you?"
"Shut up," Muireall muttered, although Condhuine noticed the small guilty glance to the village down below, "they will understand. What I am doing is going to benefit our Clan, so step aside."
"I am afraid I cannot do that," Condhuine sadly told her, the Elder Staff emerging from the shadows and into his hand, "It breaks my heart to think I would have to combat one of my people, let alone a child. Muireall, I beg of you, please reconsider your actions. It's not too late to change."
Muireall winced slightly when she saw the staff, but still maintained her stoic expression, "You are really going to prioritise those insects over your own people," she spat in anger.
"The only thing I'm prioritising is saving you from the darkness, leanabh."
"I don't need saving," she growled as her hands started to emit a white glow.
She crouched into a fighting position while her opponent stood calmly in front of the library. his Elder's Staff at his side. As quick as lightening, Murieall attacked. She was hoping to get this over with and all she needed was a single touch and he will crumble into dust. Despite her speed and agility, she was no match for the seasoned fighter. He skilfully battered her hands away from his face with one end of the staff while striking her in the stomach with the other end. She stumbled back a few spaces, but she did not dare give up, aiming more strikes at his torso and face at breakneck speeds. However, they were all blocked by the staff. She tried grabbing the staff so she could destroy his weapon, but somehow the Grand Master would pull it out of her reach and hit the back of her hands.
This was getting nowhere. She jumped onto the side of the library and elegantly flipped over Condhuine, hoping to catch him off guard. However, without even looking back, the Grand Master blocked her strikes and jabbed the end of his staff into her stomach once again. She stumbled back, almost falling off the side of the Mount, but she caught herself at the last moment. She roared in fury and placed both of her glowing hands on the ground in front of her, sending her Fear magic into the ground. Instantly, the ground ripped itself apart, the soil turning into dust in the air. The wave of destruction carried its way through the ground towards the Grand Master.
She thought she had finally done it. Her magic is going to finally kill him.
However, to her shock, he leaped out of the way of the wave of destruction and out of sight. She stood up and looked around in panic. However, she grunted in pain as she felt something swipe her legs from under her, causing her to fall onto her back. The air was knocked out of her when the end of the Elder Staff was jabbed into her stomach for the third that night. She glared up at the concerned face of Condhuine who pinned her down to the ground.
"You fought very well," the Grand Master admitted, "however, I do not wish to continue this fight. Please, you must see that what you are doing is going to bring dire consequences," he pleaded.
They met eyes. Anger and fury clashing against calm and concerned. The young girl's face softened slightly and Condhuine, for the briefest of moments, thought that she admitted defeat. However, something sharp cut his left ankle causing searing pain to erupt in his body. He grunted in pain as he looked down to see that Muireall had stabbed his leg with a jagged green rock that she had hidden up her sleeve. He frowned when he saw that his skin around the cut had started to turn into jade-green crystal and it slowly spread across his ankle.
He stepped back, releasing Muireall and, despite the situation, chuckled, "Slaodach Uaine. I haven't seen it in years."
"Did you think I would be able to defeat you in combat. I had to have a trick up my sleeve," she muttered as she stood to her feet.
"Quite inventive. A plan worthy of your kin. Although, you won't be able to use your kin's decay magic once I am completely petrified," the Grand Master said, having to forced to kneel as the crystal spread to his knees.
Muireall growled at the remark, "Don't mention my kin. Besides that's only if I don't kill you before you fully turn into crystal."
The young Phobos headed to the library's doors, ignoring Condhuine's grunts of pain. She swung them open and eagerly stepped inside, only for her eyes widen at what she saw.
Or rather what she didn't see.
"WHERE ARE THEY!?" she roared, stomping out of the library in standing before the Grand Master his lower torso was now turning into crystal, "WHERE ARE THE TOMES!?"
Despite the pain he was in, Condhuine gave her a calm look, "I destroyed them. Every single page. You weren't the only one preparing for this moment."
"Those was a two millennia worth of our Clan's knowledge in there. You can't just destroy them."
"For what you are planning to do, I would destroy the Anam single-headedly."
"You would pick those barbarians over us," she spat, "Do you think so little of the Clan you have sworn to protect."
The Grand Master met her vicious glare, grief evident in his eyes, "The duty of a Phobos is protect the world from evil, even when one of their own has been corrupted by evil."
Muireall gritted her teeth, "I have not been corrupted by anything. You must have a copy of the tomes or something. Where is it?"
Condhuine hummed, "I have no idea what you are talking about."
She held a glowing hand over his head threateningly, "Tell me or you'll die."
"If I die, you won't have your answer," he calmly countered, making Muireall growl in annoyance. So wrapped up in anger, she didn't notice the presence behind her, "I hope you don't mind but I would have to take a leaf from your book."
"What are you talking about?"
"I may have one last trick up my sleeve," he told her.
Muireall growled, "You're petrified. You can't do anything to me."
The Grand Master raised an eyebrow, "I never said I would do anything," he cryptically said before staring past her.
Muireall turned around, her eyes widening in shock as she saw her best friend standing behind her. A look of horror spread across his face at what she was doing. Words caught in her mouth. He wasn't supposed to be here. Why is he here?
"Muireall..." the boy uttered in shock.
'This is wrong. All wrong. Everything's ruined,' Muireall thought before her disbelief turned in anger, 'This is all your faul-'
She was about to take her anger out on Condhuine and turned back to him. However, before she finish her thought, the Grand Master was completely petrified. She stared at the jade statue of the old man in disbelief. Her decay magic won't work on this sort of material.
"No…" she uttered, attacking the Grand Master's crystal head with her magic, "…no.." she tried again, "…no…" and again, "no, no, no, no! No! No! NO! NO!" she screamed in a fruitless attempt to somehow kill him.
He tricked her. The old bastard tricked her.
As Muireall attacked the statue, the young Night Terror was snapped out of his shock by something pressing against his leg. He looked down and saw a large leather-bound tome spat out of the shadows. Picking it up, he felt a wave of magic sweep over him and he recognised it as a protection spell. A protection spell from what? However, there was something else. In a quiet, gentle voice he heard a message whisper from the book.
"Don't let her have the tome, leanabh. Run. Run as far as you can. You need to prevent Muireall from destroying herself and the world."
And just like that… the voice was gone.
Taking heed to the message, the boy tucked the tone into his cloak and watched as Muireall eventually stopped attacking the statue that was his grand father. Her fists were clenched and she took deep breaths trying to calm down. The boy had never seen Muireall this angry before. Sure she got annoyed or upset, but this time it was different.
And he was terrified.
"Muireall," he called out, but she didn't turn around.
"I told you to wait at the docks for me," she snapped, glancing over her shoulder at him.
He felt a little braver and took a step towards her, "What did you do?"
"You shouldn't be here," Muireall whispered, "It's all wrong."
"What did you do?" the boy repeated, more firmly this time, "TELL ME!"
Muireall turned towards him fully and stared at him with her lifeless eyes, "I…I'm sorry. I had to do this," she noticed how he was staring at dark veins covering face and sighed, "I created a way to use more of my Fear magic without turning into a Deimos. It took months of research and sacrifices, but I found it."
"You look like you're about to collapse in exhaustion," the boy told her.
"You're wrong. I never felt stronger."
"Muireall, what are you doing?" he demanded, "Did you bring a Boia's raiders here?"
She scoffed, "Not like it took much convincing. I only have to mention gold and those morons fell for it. Still, I suppose they have their uses."
"And you ordered them to attack our people."
"Not attack," she told him, "just to round the Clan up and to distract them long enough so I can get up here. Once the Clan listens to what I have to say, I have no need for the raiders and then-"
"You'll kill them," he uttered in shock.
Muireall rolled her eyes, "They're already going die sometime in the future. What's the difference between now and then."
"You can't mean that," the boy sputtered, "You're not a murderer. I know they're are bad daonna, but they don't deserve death."
Muireall took a step forwards, "That's the thing. It's not just them."
"What are you talking about?" the boy asked through gritted teeth.
"You were there," Muireall spat, "when we were separate at Elend, I was surrounded by nothing but cruelty, destruction, desolation. Every time I close my eyes, I still see it. It haunts my dreams. It keeps my up at nights. That's when I realised that these daonna cannot be trusted with anything. They are a disease, making the earth sicker and sicker until there will nothing left by a lifeless husk. They have no concept of decency or kindness. Look at them!" she pointed down at the burning village, "I gave them one simple job and they can't do that properly. I never told them to set fire to anything or attack our people. Destruction is in their nature. It's embedded in their simple minds that have to kill anything peaceful or beautiful and for years our Clan have tolerated them. But no more. With your support I can lead us to greatness-"
"We?" the boy gasped in horror, "I'm not taking part in any of this."
Muireall frowned in confusion, "But you were with me at Elend. That stupid daonna blamed you for something that the raiders did."
"Elend was my fault. I shouldn't have gone and I definitely shouldn't have dragged you there. Especially now I see what you have done."
Her eyes lit up in anger, "What I am doing is for the greater good."
"If this is the greater good then look at our village!" the boy shouted, "not once have you looked at it. Not even a single glance. Look at the village for five...no one second- look at our village for one second and tell me that you're doing something right!"
Muireall was taken back by his shouting. He saw here eyes slowly drift towards the village, but instantly turned them away. He could see that she knew it was wrong, but she can't admit it.
"Please, Muireall," the boy begged, taking a step closer to her, "It's not too late to change."
Their eyes met up and he could see that life was returning to them. Slowly, but surely. She was about to say something when her caught sight of something. The boy followed her eyes and gasped when he realised that the tome was sticking out his robe and quickly put it back in.
However, it was too late.
What was left of his best friend instantly vanished as she glared at him, the dark veins on her porcelain skin becoming darker.
"Give me the tome," she asked in a deadly tone, causing the boy to step back, "give it to me NOW!"
As soon as the words left her mouth, she charged at him, her hands aimed at the book hidden in his robe. However, she fell short as something grabbed her ankle, causing her to fall on her front on the ground. She looked back and saw a dark tendril wrapped around her leg, keeping her from getting any further.
"You idiot! Let me go!" she shouted at him, but he shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he softly said before he turned around and jumped off the side of the Mount, using the grassy slope to slide down the side.
He stumbled when he got to the path before running off the side again and sliding down the slope once again. He continued to travel like this until he got to the foot. He decided to bypass the village and run straight towards the gate, jumping over stone walls and across fields. He didn't dare look back, his control over the shadows was limited so there's no doubt that Muireall was after him now.
He ran. Away from his home. Away from his no longer best friend. Away from his Clan. Where he was running to is unknown.
For all he knew, he was running into nothingness.
He had only just stepped through the gate when he felt his instincts telling him to duck. He did so and had managed to avoid a kick from Muireall. She sailed over him, landed on one foot and propelled herself back at him. He caught her arm, but she kneed him in the stomach, making him double over and fall onto the ground on his hands and knees. He rolled out of the way as she aimed a kick to his face before he sent a shadow tendril crashing into her, sending her flying into a tree.
Seeing a chance, the boy took off towards the coast while Muireall landed on her feet.
"Dorchades," she muttered bitterly, "always hiding behind their shadows."
He wasn't able to get far before she caught up with him. Muireall barraged him with punches and kicks while the boy went on the defensive, blocking her attacks with either his fists of with his shadows. He would always run when he fended of her attacks, but she recovered quickly. And so the game cat and mouse continued on and on and on again until the sound of water signified that they were close to the coast.
By then they were exhausted. They stood across from each other, taking deep breathes. However no matter how tired they were, determination shined on the faces. They glared each other competitively, neither backing down.
"Just...give... me... the book," Muireall ordered as her hands started to glow dangerously.
"I... can't...do that," the boy replied in a stern, preparing his shadows behind him.
With a ferocious yell, Muireall charged at him while the boy sent his shadows to fight against her.
Two young Phobos, who have grown up together and lived a peaceful life, clashed against each other like life long enemies.
Faceless One vs Night Terror.
Decay vs shadow.
Muireall vs the boy.
Muireall began to push back against, making the boy step back. However, the forest is so dark and the night sky is clouded by smoke, meaning he had the advantage over her. He pushed back against her and Muireall took step back. She dug her shoes in the ground, but it was too soft to cling to. She gritted her teeth as she tried to fight back against the power of the boy's magic, but she was losing.
The boy saw this and pushed further, trying to overpower her. He would have won the power struggle...but he made a mistake.
He looked at her face.
He saw the pain that she was in.
The look of desperation in her eyes.
The tears starting to flow down her pale face.
Suddenly, he wasn't looking at an enemy anymore, but his best friend. The person who had been with him for years. Her hollow eyes, black veins and sickly skin was replaced with how she usually looked. Her stern but soft blue eyes, her bright red hair, her gentle, teasing smile. For the briefest of second, the boy saw Muireall, the real Muireall, and suddenly he forgot what he was doing.
And dropped the shadow holding her back.
Feeling him falter, Muireall pushed back against the boy's magic and the magic explosion sent him flying back. He collided with a tree that overlooked a tall cliff. He was momentarily knocked out for a few seconds when his head hit the tree. Once he had opened his eyes, he saw Muireall standing over him, gripping the collar of his robe.
"See what you made me do!" she shouted at him, "we were going to lead the Clan to greatness!" she slapped him across the face, "you say that the daonna are innocent, but have you forgotten what they did to us!" she slapped him again, "we save them from evil and how do they reward us!? By forcing us to live on this fucking island!" she slapped him again, "Being forced to live by stupid laws and customs!" she slapped him again, "having to go through hell just so I can learn a magic that almost killed me! NOBODY ASKED ME IF I WANTED TO BE A PHOBOS! THEY ARE NOTHING BUT A PLAGUE ON THIS WORLD AND I SHALL CLENSE THE WORLD FROM THEM!"
She tried to slap him again, but the boy caught her arm with what little strength he had. Despite everything in his body screamed in pain, he had managed to look into her eyes.
"No...there's something else," he quietly said, "I know you. You will never do something so irrational. There's another reason why you want to commit genocide...and it's not for revenge," he saw her eyes soften slightly at his words, "Please...tell me. What do you know."
The anger in Muireall ebbed away from her face and was replaced with fear. She leaned in closer to him and whispered to him.
"Something's is coming," she said in a frightened voice, "Something that has appeared once and left death in its wake. I don't know when or what it was...but I know it's coming and it will be a daonna who will release it. We need to stop the daonna before it's too late."
The boy frowned in concern and surprise. Muireall wasn't the type of person to joke, even before this happened. However, he can't let her win or get her hands on the Tome. He had no idea why it's so important, but there was no way he was giving it to her now.
"I believe you. But I still can't give you the Tome," he told her, making her furious once again, "and I'm so sorry about this."
Before she could speak, he flicked his wrists and made the blades shoot out of his gauntlets. She screamed in shock and pain as a long, thin, blade pierced through the hand he was still holding. The other blade cut her cheek and blood began to pour down her face. Because it was such a surprise, she accidentally actives her magic, turning his cloak into dust before he managed to kick her off him. As he rushed to his feet, she reached out to grab him with her uninsured hand, touching both gauntlets in the process and also turning them into dust. One of the blades fell to the ground while the other was stuck in her hand,
The boy grabbed the Tome and ran to the cliff, peering down to see the dark waves crashing on the jagged rocks below. He looked left and right, but he could not see any way down safely.
Muireall gritted her teeth, pulled the blade out of hand and threw in a random direction before clasping her injured hand to stop the blood stream. She shakily got to her feet and stumbled towards the boy. He looked back, his eyes widening when he saw her crazed visage, emphasised with the blood pouring from her wounds.
"There's nowhere to go," she told him with a smile which she thought was convincing "just give me the Tome."
The boy shook his head and took a step back to the cliff, "I can't, Muireall."
Her smile fell into a deadly snarl, "You'll choose the barbarians over me."
"This is not about sides," the boy told her, "you're talking about genocide."
"Why don't you understand!? I'm doing this for everyone, for our Clan, for you!" she yelled at him, "just step away from the cliff and we'll go back to the way we were."
The boy eyes widened at what she said before he clenched his teeth in anger, "Do you really think it's that easy. That I will just forget what you did..."
Muireall face softened, "But-"
"...how stupid do you think I am!?..."
"Please-"
"...You've destroyed every last bit of trust I've had for you!..."
"I lov-" Muireall managed to choke out.
"You've taken everything away everything I had! I will never forgive you for this! Never!"
The young girl took a step back, startled by his declaration. The word 'never!' echoed in her head, driving her away from any sane thought.
'He hates me,' she thought in disbelief, 'He hates me. This...this is not supposed to happen. I had plans. We were supposed to marry. Have children. Grow old together. Why doesn't he want to be with me? Why won't he do what I say? I won't accept this. I'm not going to accept this!'
Suddenly, she had an idea.
She remembered something she had read during her research. It will be hard to do. But it will be worth it.
The boy flinched as she released her blood covered hand and held it before her. Her hand started to glow emerald green, preparing to hit him with a spell.
"W-what are you doing?" he stammered, backing more to the cliff.
"Don't worry," she softly but menacingly said, "It's just a memory curse. I'm just going to remove all your memory about what happened here. Then we can go back the way we were. Now stay still."
Her hand began to glow brighter and brighter, making the boy inch backwards one more time. The heels of his shoes hanging off the edge. He looked down at the dark sea and then back at her.
He had no choice.
Taking a deep breath, he stared into his former's best friend's blue eyes for what would be the last time and whispered,
"Goodbye Muireall."
And he stepped backwards of the cliff.
"NOOOOOOOO!" Muireall wailed as she saw the boy began to fall with the Tome in his arms.
In her panic, she fired the memory curse prematurely, hitting him in between the eyes as he fell out of sight. She rushed to the edge and watched helplessly as the boy splashed into dark, cold water below. She searched for him, ignoring her injuries and exhaustion, trying to sense his presence.
But he was gone.
He never breached the surface.
Muireall, seeing that he was lost, fell to her knees and screamed.
It wasn't until later that Buia and his raiders found her. She had not moved from the spot on the cliff, kneeling away from them with her head bowed. She was emitting so much Fear magic that they were unable to get the horses any closer than half a mile without them being freaking out, making the raiders travel the rest of the way by foot. Even then the men were unable to venture past the tree line, too scared to get any closer to the unnervingly still girl.
Buia was the only one who can resist it (or rather the best at hiding his fear) and after calling his men cowards he marched towards Muireall, his sword unsheathed in his hand.
"Hey," he called out when he was a foot behind her.
Muireall didn't respond.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl!" Buia barked.
The young Phobos didn't move at first, but she slowly got up to her feet and turned around. Buia and the raiders took a step back when they saw her.
What was left of Muireall was gone. She looked like a porcelain doll with her lifeless eyes, pale skin which looked cracked with the veins and the cut on her cheek and her rigid stature. The only sort of colour on her was her hair, but instead of it being a bright, cheerful red, it was darker like blood. She looked like a monster pretending to be human, but had forgotten to look alive.
It was as if she lost every trace of humanity.
Her eyes darted from Buia, to the smoke billowing above the trees, to the blood stained sword in his hand.
"Why is there smoke?" she asked in a cold, hollow voice that made even Buia sweat, "and why is sword covered in blood."
Buia fought down a gulp, "You promised us there would be gold there."
"I know. I lied. So?" Muireall responded. It was as if Buia was talking into a dark, damp cave and her voice was the echo.
"So, we thought we took things into our own hands," Buia continued, "We asked them to give us their possessions and when they said no...well," he chuckled, trying to not look at her piercing glare which seemed to intense by the second, "we then torched this forest here. Just for fun."
Muireall didn't respond for a few seconds, her expression stoic and terrifying.
"I see," she whispered, "I can't say I'm surprise...you are scum after all."
Buia growled, "What did you call us."
"Scum," she repeated, unafraid by his threat, "Dirt, maggots, curs, scumbags, filth, lowlifes, disease, vermin, trash, bastards, dogs, parasites, shit, all of you are nothing but fleas on the back of the world, ready to be exterminated."
...
...
...
Silence.
Not a single person made a sound. Too horrified to even respond to her insults.
Except for Buia.
The bearded man leaned down and snarled at Muireall, "I'm going to give you a chance to apologise-"
He didn't even see her hand move until it was too late. She firmly wrapped her hand around his throat and felt it dissolve and burst within her grip. Soon his entire body turned into dust and silt. First his head, then his body, then his arms and legs until there was nothing.
The raiders barely made a noise when they saw their leader easily crumble before their eyes. They looked up at the porcelain doll that used to be Muireall, the light of the fire behind them reflecting off her in a horrifying display.
She looked up them and smiled.
"He gave me a chance to show mercy," she said, her hands glowing with her magic, "I will not make the same mistake."
Buia, leader of the raiders, was dead. He had been the first person the Muireall had ever killed...
...and he wouldn't be the last one that night...
...or any day after that.
The Present
Night Terror woke up, gasping for air. He remembered the nightmare.
And that's it. Hope you enjoyed it.
Yes, Muireall is the Phobos Slayer after all this time. I know people were hoping that she was still alive and I didn't disappoint (sort of). I feel kind of cruel building her character up like that and then instantly saying she's evil. Ah well. It might explain some things and her involvement will revealed in the future.
The next chapter will involve him going through his trial and becoming a true Night Terror. It's certainly going to be a significant chapter.
I can't believe I haven't given the Grand Master a name until now, so I decided on Condhuine a combination of the Celtic name Conn (meaning wise leader) and Gaelic word dhuine (meaning man). This may seem strange but I based him off two characters: Master Oogway from the Kung Fu Panda franchise and Uncle Iroh from ATLA. I hope that came through.
There are still some questions that need to be answered so tune in next time.
See you next time :)
Omake
Victor Soul sighed and looked up from his writing when he heard a knock on his door. The head of his elderly black and white furred cat perked up at the sound as well before she rested her chin on the desk once again.
"Come in," he called out.
However, nobody did. He frowned, stood up from chair, walked to the door and swung it open to reveal nobody there. He looked outside for any sign of life before giving an irritated groan and closing the door behind him. He turned back again and shouted in fright as a figure stood in front of him.
"Damn it, Night!" Victor shouted at his OC, "don't scare me like that."
Night Terror sheepish rubbed the back of his head.
"My apologies, Mister Victor," he said, "I didn't mean to startle you."
Victor sighed before giving him a reassuring smile, "It's alright. I guess I did create you that way. How can I help?" he asked gesturing to the spare chair for him to sit on.
They both took a seat and Night Terror cleared his throat.
"Well, Mister Edgar, your other OC, mentioned he visited you and I was wondering if I can inquire something," the Phobos requested.
"You're not going to complain about the script as well, are you?" Victor hummed in concern.
"Oh no. The latest chapter was...well I cannot say it was great because I did find out my childhood friend was the one who destroyed my Clan."
"Fair enough."
"It is certainly becoming intense, especially since we are only on chapter fifteen. However, I was reading the reviews when I came across one from a Guest which read 'Cringe AF' and I was wondering what that could mean?" he asked curiously, making Victor wince, "I am unfortunately not up to date with common short language so could you please translate it."
"It's called slang," Victor explained, "and their message meant that they found the first chapter...embarrassing to read or rather I should be embarrassed for thinking of writing it and it made them 'cringe'. While the AF part is short for 'as f-word'."
"F-word?"
He mouthed the word and Night Terror nodded in understanding.
"It's used for emphasis," Victor explained.
"I...see," Night Terror said unsurely.
Victor's eyes widened in concern. He really didn't want to upset him.
"But you shouldn't worry about those type of comments," Victor told him, "they are rare and they're directed at me and not you."
"And that makes it okay?" Night Terror questioned firmly.
"Well...no. I suppose not."
"So, this Guest, instead of providing constructive criticism or not leaving a review at all, had thought it would within their rights to insult you and they can get away with it because they hide behind a screen. Like a coward."
"It's not even that bad," Victor argued.
"It is not about severity of the insult, Mister Victor, it is the audacity to think they could do this to another human being," Night Terror countered, "This is not the first time someone has personally insulted you, I presume."
Victor rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "No, but I just ignore them. I can't even remember any of them."
Night Terror reached into the shadows, pulled out a notebook and flipped to a particular page.
"Let's see here," he mumbled to himself as he peered down at the notebook.
"You've made a list," Victor sputtered in shock.
"Atrocious story and a washed up OC based on the author, someone has accused you of nerfing your OC- whatever that means- a crack fic, a leftist cuck..."
"Right that last one was a bit of misunderstanding, but I owed up to my mistake and sorted it out with person who wrote it," Victor explained.
"But they still wrote it."
Victor sighed wearily, "Okay, there's a risk of posting things on the internet these days and you can't expect everyone to be nice and those insulting reviews are a fraction of all the reviews I receive. I'm so lucky and so grateful that the majority of people who review are supportive, kind and amazing and if I focus on them, I won't see the ones that are horrible."
"I am grateful for them as well," Night Terror admitted with a bow of his head, "however, there are writers who are not as lucky and are more vulnerable to personal attacks. Some people may think that these writers are over-reacting to these comments, but it is not about how well you tolerate insults, it is a matter of human decency and how we should be civil to each other."
Victor sighed, "Fine, I'll try and call people out on insulting reviews in the future."
"Excellent," Night Terror said as he stood up, "I shall take my leave, thank you Mister Victor."
"No problem," Victor happily replied, "Get some rest. You"re going to need it for the next chapter."
The Phobos gave him a worried look, "The trial is not going to be too arduous, is it?"
Victor smirked, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be fine," he said, causing Night Terror sweat drop.
"That is not exactly comforting," he muttered before making his way to door, "farewell."
"Goodbye," Victor said with a small wave before he remembered something, "Oh Night Terror, just one more question."
The Phobos had opened the door before he hidden face to Victor.
"Yes?"
"What do you think of the Omake? I was thinking of doing more of them," he asked excitedly.
Night Terror cocked his head, "Frankly, Mister Victor, I find it a little Cringe AF."
At that, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him.
...
...
...
...
Victor sighed in despair, "I suppose it was worth a try. Maybe if I put it under the final note, hopefully nobody will read it."