Fleeting Moments

Ch. 10

Unshakable Will

As Marco pulled his armor from the shelves, checking to ensure everything was still there and in decent condition, he called out to Alwen, "so, why are we suiting up like this? You didn't make Star check out all this crap for her mission."

Alwen rolled his eyes and set down his records, pawing through the pages to verify the equipment listings. How the boy could find even the tiniest bit of ungrateful attitude after he flagged them down for recall, was beyond him. "Because we didn't know that your mission was going to involve such nasty characters, and such valuable cargo," he mumbled, "had I not called you back in time, you'd have walked into a slaughter. Be grateful for the extra intelligence we got from our scouts."

"And what about Star?" Marco called out from behind the shelves, "Did you bring her back too? Or can I just assume she's walking into a mess and needs my help more than you need some payroll?"

"If you'd stop whining and let me explain, I'd be more than happy to give you the details."

"I'm waiting."

Alwen glared at his scrolls and did his best not to march over to the welp and wring his neck, if only to save the enemy the trouble. "The girls convoy is less guarded, and as such, the two of them should be more than enough. For you and Duvante, however, there's six wagons, and a reported twenty-four guards. Your objective is a lockbox with records, payroll, orders- anything of value and then some."

"Aye, and what about that sounds like more than a scuffle?" Lucite called out from her stall, "sounds like easy bones to me- hell, maybe even this bampot here could handle it."

"Because those men aren't alone," Alwen finished, "our scouts noted a small detachment of men. Mercenaries working for the Crown, and they're very, very good, because they used to work for us."

Marco stepped forward and cinched his armor into place as Alwen began listing the items accordingly. "What, did they not get a raise last year? File too many complaints against the manager?"

Alwen gave him a bored look, rolling his eyes above a discontented sigh. "No. That unit slaughtered an entire town to find one Crown officer, only to accept a bribe and betray two other units," he noted without expression, "they will not hesitate to kill you, though they might even prefer to torture information out of you first. So do not get caught, and we won't have to hunt you two down."

Lucite stepped out from the shelves wearing something akin to a skirt, the blue fabric folded into itself under a layer of chain mail and plated armor. Her shoulder pads were furred to match the bracers and sash she wore with pride, and with an added touch of class, she'd painted a dark blue mask around her eyes. To Marco, she looked like a viking, her hair pulled into a messy red braid, but he didn't dare comment when she was so well armed. "Is that why you brass ain't coming? 'Fraid they'll be extra thorough with their old superiors?"

"To a small degree, yes, actually," Alwen nodded, checking off more items from the armory. "But mostly, this is a test from Duwen for the… 'bottom of the barrel children', as she put it."

Marco rolled his eyes and stepped around him, tossing a hooded glare back at Lucy. "And the reason you want the two of us on the same team would be… what? Entertainment?"

As rarely as it happened, Alwen actually smiled, folding his scrolls and standing to usher the two out. "Let's just say that you both caught a lot of eyes with your little scuffle last night," he noted with sarcasm, "consider this a punishment, a test, a reward, whatever you need to believe to get the job done."

Marco followed Alwen's cherried example and rolled his eyes, stepping out of the room with a curt, "Thanks for the vote of confidence. We'll try not to die."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Star glared at the wall, a single candle lit to fight back the darkness of the dim little room. She sat on her bed, her ears ringing from the hours of oppressive silence, thinking of nothing but how she'd gotten here. The Cathedral had been a buzz when she demanded to know what happened… to Marco, and like a fool she'd allowed herself to feel relief when he'd told her that he would be fine.

For now.

'It beats the heck out of hiding off in a corner and moping all night alone,' she'd once told him.

He was still recovering, hidden somewhere in the bowels of the caves from prying and curious eyes, to include her own. She wanted to know every minute detail about his condition, his recovery, how he'd ended up in that state, but that meant asking Alwen. A man she didn't have the stomach to speak more than two words to after that night.

It'd been over a day since she'd grabbed his collar with enough force to fracture bone, and she hadn't slept a wink since. She still remembered the way he looked at her: unafraid, yet still so broken just behind the facade he wore. He didn't react to her hand, her force, not even her words. He only told her what he'd told everyone over a dozen times since then: "I wasn't there, and Duvante is in just as bad a shape. She's still recovering, so for now we have to wait before we can learn anything."

Star narrowed her eyes at the candle, watching as it flicked against the wax that barely clung to the stone. She hated the feeling of desperation that came with not knowing, and it all but drove her mad when it involved Marco. But as if the universe sought to punish her further, to drive her only further into madness, there came a firm rapping against her door, the wooden barrier to the outside world swinging open without an answer.

"I brought you some food, since apparently some among my ranks are refusing to eat," Alwen offered, stepping in carefully with a plate of food from the mess hall. Star glanced at the plate, the sight of it enough to make her sick before she turned back to the wall.

Eventually, after a long, quiet moment, Alwen stepped fully inside and closed the door, setting the food down on the table and taking a seat. He smelled like blood. A lot of it. And from the sling his arm was in, he too was, 'still recovering.' "I've seen this before. It's still sensitive intel, and I didn't want to be the one to tell you, but? I drew the short straw."

Star slowly turned her glare towards him, refusing to utter even a word if it meant justifying his gesture of consolation. She didn't want to see him, let alone smell him and all his… blood. She wanted to be left alone until someone, anyone else, came with good news about- "Marco has a virus," Alwen barked, his eyes serious as Star noted the use of Marco's name.

"We don't know a lot about it, but it almost always kills its host, along with anyone and anything that ventures too close to them."

He was talking about… no, Pezmal said it was rare, hard to produce, Marco wouldn't have been forced to drink it, not even as torture. But Star knew well enough what Alwen was referring to, and it only served to make her sicker. "For Marco to have willingly ingested Black wine, they must have been pushed against the wall. I knew the risks, and sent them anyway, so the mission's failures lie only with me."

She wanted to strangle him.

There was no fine in this situation, and he could take his pitiful excuse for recompense and stuff it. She didn't care who accepted the blame, she didn't care that the mission failed, she only wanted to wring Alwen's neck and steal Marco away to someplace safe. But there wasn't anywhere safe in this dimension. The thought was as fleeting as it was unnecessary, and with a spark, Star found a new topic of conversation far more enticing.

"How Is Marco still alive? Pezmal said it kills people within five minutes, right?"

"We don't know," Alwen answered unhelpfully, shaking his head, "by our records we've never even heard of someone lasting longer than an hour, let alone a day and a half. Our best guess is that the virus might have accepted the host, gone dormant, been killed off, or maybe it's eating him from the inside. We can't say for certain until we know more about it, which, given the means of its production, isn't something we can wait for. We need to know what happened.

It would have been stupid to get her hopes up, especially given how little she understood about this world or some mysterious virus. But she didn't want to lose Marco, regardless of the circumstances. Alwen was clearly trying to keep a level head, his eyes stoic and vacant against the candlelight, but she could tell he was struggling too.

"I don't like losing any of my men," he suddenly growled, turning to face Star, "and I don't want you to have to go through that either. But… you need to be prepared."

She knew he was being realistic, that he was being reasonable and honest, but he was talking like Marco's fate was already sealed. Like he was as good as dead already, and they were just counting down the clock. It filled her with a boiling rage deep in her chest, and something primal lashed out like it had the night prior. "You need to leave," She growled, her voice wavering to show anger, and hide her fear.

They were the reason Marco went off alone, why she wasn't there to protect him, to stay by his side like they promised on the bridge.

Alwen nodded silently, pointedly leaving the food for her to pick at later as he stood, just before another soft knock echoed against the door. Pezmal poked his head in, regarding Star with discomfort before facing Alwen. "She's awake, sir."

Alwen nodded, tossing Star a lazy glance to find her awkwardly keeping her gaze away from the door. "Come with us. You deserve to be there when we get the story."

Without a word, she nodded and stood, her eyes downcast as she followed Alwen past Pezmal, the three of them making their way through the tunnels. Unfortunately, or for good reason, Pezmal fell in beside her, offering a simple, "Are you alright? It's been a day since anyone's seen you, and people were getting worried."

Notably, thankfully, Pezmal hadn't seen her in such a deplorable state either until now, but what difference did it make if she was fine? She didn't have the luxury of feeling good about any of this, and she wasn't planning on pretending things weren't as dire as they were. "I'll live." Two curdled words not intended to lacerate the man they were spoken to, but Pezmal looked ahead, his grey eyes unfocused against the torchlight.

"Living, and living with what life throws at you, are two very different things, Star," he suggested, "I'm sorry you have to go through all this."

For the first time since the two of them had set out, Star took notice of the way he spoke. The way that everything he said, everything he offered as advice, was only ever tailored to her.

"I'm not the one dying, Pezmal. I'll live, and for that monster's sake, Marco better do the same," she grumbled, her eyes locked on Alwens back.

Pezmal seemed like he wanted to suggest some other piece of advice, some lousy bit of unhelpful consolation on why she shouldn't feel like her world was falling apart, but for better or worse he chose to say nothing.

After a few minutes of walking in muted agony, like a death march down to the deeper depths of the cave, the three merry men stepped into the infirmary, a side shoot cave tucked away from the hustle and bustle. It was a low hanging room, with iron braces lining the walls to support the weight of the cave. Beds lined either wall, with men and women in various stages of recovery lying in wait for good or bad news. But in the middle, sitting up on one bed in particular, was Lucite Duvante.

She was just through with getting dressed, and as she saw the entourage approaching she paled, but remained still.

"I'll be on my way now, I think it's about time I got some rest," Pezmal whispered behind them, receiving a short nod from Alwen, "Good- Goodluck, both of you." He trudged off back to the tunnels outside as Star and Alwen stepped closer to Lucy, the older of the two noting, "Forgive him for his demeanor. He doesn't get out much, and he's been here helping with Duvante since… well, you know."

Star didn't answer. Her eyes were set on the redhead sitting on the bed in front of them.

Lucy caught her breath at the glare she sat under. She remembered too well the kind of pressure that radiated through the cave when Star had found Marco in his… condition. She was delirious and exhausted, but that kind of force, that kind of anger, it wasn't something she could let go of so easily. And as such, Star was the first to speak, asking with venom in her words, "what did you do to him."

Alwen stiffened. "Duvante carried the boy for miles when her horse gave out, only letting exhaustion take her once they made it back. Mind your-"

"I don't care," Star spat, her eyes hollow, yet brimming with anger and impatience in waves, "you saw how she was the night before we left, even Duwen said to 'keep an eye on her in case he comes up missing'! She had it out for him, and I want to know: what. Did you do to him?"

"That was a joke."

For once, Lucy looked genuinely mortified as she collected herself, her shoulders relaxing if only for a moment. She was plenty tough, sure, but here and now, she needed to act calmly, and control the situation. "We ran into those friends'a yours, Alwen. And they were every bit as nasty as ya said," came her uneasy response, taking only a blink to glance at Star, "we fought a good fight, barely made it out. Yer boyfriend took most of em down, and we were lucky to-"

"Stop lying," Star cut in, not even willing to entertain the scandalous comment on her relationship to Marco. The room was getting colder in her presence alone, as as she took a step closer, looming over Lucy, she spat, "you're not telling me everything. So how about you take it from the top, and explain to me why my best friend is dying somewhere in the stupid CAVE!"

Lucy shriveled under the intense stare, tossing Alwen a nervous glance.

He nodded.

No one was supposed to know, not unless it was deemed critical to the resistance. It was classified at best, and a well kept secret at worst, but apparently that notion had flown the coop. With returning resolve, Lucy straightened up and met Stars glare with one of her own, her fierce green eyes burning against the cold. "It was a bloody trap," she muttered.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it was a damn setup, ya stupid girl!" Lucy shouted in return, "They knew we were comin', and they were ready for us. Someone squealed, and we never stood a chance. I'm under orders from Lady Duwen to keep me trap shut about it."

For a moment, no one said a word as a creeping guilt crept up Star's spine. Her mission had been so easy, over in a flash and bearing enough reward to fund an army for months. And all the while, Marco had walked right into a trap? But as quickly as the notion came and went, Star accepted that Marco wouldn't think like that, not at a time like this, and he wouldn't accept anything different from her.

"Yer little fool drank Black wine to save our arses, found it while we were fighting. I tried to call him off, told him it was death in a bottle, but he didn't care." Lucy only steeped lower into her anger, either out of guilt or embarrassment at having been saved, Star couldn't tell. "He slaughtered twenty of em within the first minute, and then he fought the virus until he passed out. He was still alive, so I carried him back, that black blood oozing over me shoulder, wishin' to hell I could drop his carcass and be done with it. But he held on, mumbling about you, and how you were in danger, how he needed to get back home."

Star was all but boiling with anger as she and Alwen listened intently. It wasn't surprising to hear the woman's sentiment on the matter, it wasn't even an afterthought that Marco held on purely out of spite. It was sickening to think that he was alone while he was dying, and Star was nearly at her limit as it was. He was worried about her, while he was dying.

"Where is he?" She asked in a quiet voice, not bothering to meet either set of eyes that turned her way. Alwen was the first to gather his wits, stumbling to give some half baked excuse. "The virus hasn't run its course. He could still be dangerous, and when it rejects him- right now he needs care and-"

"If I have to ask. One more time," Star didn't finish the thought, letting their imaginations do the talking. Alwen didn't look scared, but he knew she was serious, and pretending that she wasn't was only going to get someone hurt. He made to give her a straight answer when the cave suddenly rocked, the walls and floors shuddering from some unseen force, columns of falling dust powdering the floor.

After a traded glance, Star's attention was seized by Lucite's grunt of annoyance. "Better hop to it, lass. Sounds like yer lover's awake."

One last withering glare was the last thing Star gave her before she took off in a mad sprint towards the tunnels, pushing past a rush of freedom fighters as she looked for a path. Thankfully, Alwen was already there, standing fast amidst the surge as he shouted, "evacuate the caves! Leave no one behind and make for higher ground! Go!"

But Star wasn't interested in escaping. She followed the surge if only to head higher for the source of the blast, more shuddering booms echoing from above. It could have been an attack, maybe the Cathedral had been discovered, but that was wishful thinking. "Star, you need to evacuate," Alwen called after her, using her name and keeping pace even in his state, "I don't know what we might find, but it will do you no good in seeing it. Head for the rear escape tunnel, now!"

But Star tuned him out. She wasn't going anywhere without Marco, let alone when he was at the epicenter of whatever was going on. She didn't owe anything to these people apart from a few meals and a shabby bed. But to Marco, the two had traded a life debt a handful of times, and she was keen to see the young man from the bridge not lose his second chance. So despite the calls of protest that she had no intention of heeding, she grit her teeth and kept running, tearing through the tunnels until she stopped at the entrance to the massive antechamber.

She stopped cold, finding nothing less than an astounding level of destruction strewn about evenly from floor to ceiling. The forges were burning to the ground, ironically, and whoever was left standing were either running in droves or standing with their weapons drawn, all of those brave souls facing one at the very center.

"Men! Fall back at once, and clear out any stragglers!" Alwen ordered with fury, skidding to a stop beside Star. A few confused looks were tossed his way, either from the orders or the battered and bleeding figure standing in the middle. And whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Marco. At least, not any more.

The figure wore the same armor as Marco, stood as tall as he did, looked like him, but it stood with two fanned, jet black, leathery wings. Wisps of darkness curled around it, and from its fingertips were bony protrusions like claws, several stained with blood. The sight of it alone brought a chill to Star's spine, that curling darkness bearing nothing but a reminder of Zaleeth. But she pushed it down. It was still Marco. It had to be.

"Fall. Back," Alwen whispered, his sword drawn in his good arm as his eyes scanned the room with lethal precision. "That isn't the boy. He may look like him, but his mind is gone. The virus is all that remains, so get out of here while you can. Do you understand?"

Days of aggravation all brought to a head in the last twenty four hours flashed through Star's mind in one pulse of a heated heartbeat. She grit her teeth at the thought of being told to split up, to go on a stupid mission, to wait for orders, to stay away from Marco, and now to leave. It had been the same ever since they got here, ever since Mewni.

Pretty your hair, don't shout, behave in the face of nobles, train to fight, all for the generous result of being exiled without a second thought. Her mother, Alwen, the nobles, Duwen, even Marco, how many orders did she have to follow before she was allowed to be herself? At what point had she lost such control of her own choices, of the free nature she'd gotten a taste of not two nights ago? When had she stopped being Star Butterfly?

"I've had it… with you assholes… TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!" She bellowed, loud enough to freeze everything in the room, and draw the attention of a broken figure silhouetted in darkness. But she didn't care, she only drew her hammers and lunged forward into a sprint, deaf to Alwen, deaf to the crunch of glass beneath her feet, and deaf to any more orders and advice. "MARCO DIAZ! CUT THE CRAP AND SAY SOMETHING! I'M NOT PUTTING UP WITH ANY MORE BULLSHIT, AND THAT STARTS WITH YOU!"

Star brandished her hammers, charging forward as Marco cocked his head to the side. He flexed his claws beneath an expressionless pair of dark eyes.

"Don't make me ask twice," Star growled with malice, but in a flash of darkness, Marco shot towards her, his claws ready to rake into her skin without resistance. She moved to block, but Alwen surged forward to shoulder the nightmare aside, parrying a slash and dodging a counterattack without so much as a wasted breath.

"Happy now, girl?" He rasped, shooting her a look that was bordering on incredulous. He looked downright murderous, a far cry from the lack of emotion he usually fronted. "You've said your piece, now get the hell out of here!"

"UGGHH! Shut! Up! You're not gonna kill him just because he drank a stupid potion!"

In a blur, Star wove under Alwen and swung with dizzying speed, catching the flash of sharpened claws just before they met their mark. Marco, or whatever he was, faltered back before bringing his hands up to his face. He was a boxer, tried and true, and sent forward a barrage of machine gun punches to break her defense.

She blocked what she could and pushed back hard, keeping ground against him, but it was hard to deliver. Every time she swung her hammers, she felt a tug to hold back, seeing nothing but Marco's face lying in wait. He caught her hammers and punched her back, his strikes cold and calculated despite his lack of enthusiasm.

Alwen was suddenly there, a blast of wind as his sword moved in an arc of reflected silver. He was faster than anything Star had seen in this dimension, faster than Zaleeth, faster than her, it was a wonder that he wasn't on the front lines to decimate the opposition. As he moved in graceful fury to keep Marco at bay, it dawned on Star that he was probably trapped in the Cathedral, told to sit tight and issue orders purely because he was the commander's son. And then an idea popped into her head.

"Alwen! Keep him busy and hold him off for a little bit longer!"

"What does it look like I'm doing!?" He growled, ducking under a lazy slash and grabbing Marco's wrist. He pulled him in close and spun, driving his heel into Marco's side before swinging hard enough to maim, but not kill. Whatever the girl had in store had to be worth it, or he'd just put both of them in the ground.

"Let me show you why I'm in charge of you children, " he snarled, bringing his blade to a low stance. Marco drove forward with a flurry of punches, but every attack only met steel as Alwen pushed his advance. Metal sang as Marco's claws only met resistance each time he swung, the creature letting out a growl of annoyance, but Alwen merely stared as though he was looking through him.

He struck with blistering speed and ferocity, one moment blocking claws only to press ever closer and slash at any exposed flesh. He'd bleed him out if he had to, deftly parrying a flurry of attacks like falling snow. But one word halted his impervious advance in an instant.

"Alwen," Marco rasped, his voice ragged like sandpaper. His eyes were still dim, but hearing him speak... Alwen slowed just enough to create an opening. Marco dove forward with a flap of his wings and splayed his claws, but Alwen was faster. He went low, letting the bony protrusions skate over his sword before passing him, swinging hard into an uppercut that clipped just enough dark wing material to hurt.

Marco shrieked in anger, his face suddenly twisting into one of rage before he drove his claws into the stone floor. He pivoted on a dime and flew right back, and Alwen only had time to raise his blade in defense. With a booming shockwave, just like in Primrose, Marco punched Alwen with enough force to send him flying.

He hit the far wall with a crunch of bone, slumping to the floor in a heap as his sword clattered noisily to the ground. But whatever Marco was, he didn't celebrate, didn't breathe, didn't give the slightest hint at victory. He just stared at the fallen warrior with blank, expressionless eyes, clueless to his surroundings. Then, his attention was drawn to the far end of the room when the sound of roaring thunder boomed.

In the distance, he saw the girl standing there, her hammers drawn, and the massive iron door to the Cathedral shut. She smiled at him with a voracious rage pent up over the last two weeks, spite dripping from her lips and spat, "you're not going anywhere. I wanna hear you say it, and you can't do that when you're all fucked up on the sauce."

Without warning she charged across the Cathedral in a mad sprint, her footsteps echoing through the cave as Marco lowered himself into a ready stance.

Her first strike was a heavy-handed haymaker backed with two tons of fury, but Marco dodged, letting her reel before he moved in quick to deliver a powerful punch to her ribs. Star felt the blow but kept spinning, backhanded him with a closed fist before driving him back with a dropkick. He was fast, but clueless. So she needed to be faster, and more precise.

The knights had always taught her to find weaknesses and exploit them, so she ducked under a swipe of his wings and sent two rapid fire punches to his stomach. He was good at reading her as she was of him, and as long as she was unpredictable, he'd go down nice and easy. Or he would have, had any of that been the case.

Marco's eyes flicked up, his pupils swirling into points of white as he analyzed her movements. She was reeling back to swing low, but her body weight showed a feint. He brought up his bracers and swept her attack higher, lunging in and driving two punches to the gut. She twisted to kick for his neck, but he forced her leg wider and drove three more punches in.

He still had his experience.

But Star was a mountain yet to be carved apart by a lowly river. She took his punches with stride and grabbed his wrists, his claws extending as she pulled him down. Right into her knee. His head bent back before she turned with force, throwing him into the air with a rush of displaced air. But Marco snapped his wings out, adjusting his flight and landing on one of the ziplines. He stared down at her with cold apathy, his eyes narrowing to watch as she tore across the room.

She was staring right back when she kicked her lever, sending her cart skyward at breakneck speeds with a twisted grin.

Marco jumped with a wing beat as the foreign cart slammed into the end of the line. Star flew into him with all the grace and precision of a rogue missile, tackling him back into a stalactite. Stone cracked behind him as she grasped at his wings, swinging around the rock and pinning them back. She drove her heels down and sent him hurtling into the stalls before lunging from the stalactite towards the Cathedral floor.

Marco struck first into a storm of broken wood, followed shortly after by Star, the Mewman princess slamming into the stone with a shattering boom. The two rose from the rubble to face one another, Marco flaring his wings and rushing forward. But odd enough, he met her blows with not just a flurry of boxers punches and kicks, but a grin.

He was having fun.

Star kicked him back through the wall of the stall, chasing him with her hammers ready. He used his wings to twist in the air, catching the stone with his claws and sparking to a stop before booming back towards her. All with a growing grin.

He was enjoying this.

Marco swept under her swings, coming in close to meet her eyes with ferocious joy before swiping for her neck, barely carving a rend in her blocking forearm. He grinned at the sight of her blood, a twitch of his veins oozing more of the black sludge from his wounds.

"You hit… like a girl…" he soothed, his voice hoarse. But Star grinned right back, catching his wrist between the hooks of her hammers and forcing it lower. His face was inches from hers, and through a voracious grin she growled, "Better snap out of it, so I can rub it in your stupid face that I TOLD YOU SO!"

Marco growled through grit teeth, driving a powerful knee into her ribs and punching her back through the wall of a forge. He tensed to follow, but she flew right back towards him to deliver a right hook, catching his stumble with a furious uppercut. He swung low, slicing into her thigh and twisting up high to crack his elbow against her chin. She reeled, and Marco lunged to clasp at her throat. But Star dove back, driving her heels into his chest to drive him through two workshop stalls in a shower of splinters.

"I made a promise to you that night that I wouldn't leave you!" She screamed, charging through the hole and pummeling him back with her hammers, and a spray of black sludge, "That I'd BE! By your SIDE! To HELP! YOU! OUT! You owe me a goddamn apology, and I'm not leaving without my best friend!"

Marco grabbed her hammers, ripping them from her grip with a thundering kick. She let out a gasp and blasted across the Cathedral, Marco quick to follow with heavy wingbeats and a reeling fist. He was smiling through grit teeth, but so was his prey, the girl with golden hair skidding to a stop and catching his momentum with two open hands. She clasped his hands in hers, struggling to keep him at bay as the two were locked in a stalemate.

Her hands clenched around his claws, enough to crack bone as the dark creature let out a wavering groan. But his claws extended, his hands tightening into her knuckles and piercing her skin with a scream. Neither of them heard the subdoors open, or the troops arriving en masse, but neither would have cared. The two screamed, then met each other with a wild grin of rage.

"Hold back. Do not engage until we know what we're up against."

As blood dripped down her leg and arm and knuckles, Star glared at him, her smile cracking as tears fell just as hard. Marco stiffened, his growls growing quiet.

"I need you…," she seethed, watching him as they struggled for control, "I can't do this alone, Marco…"

He watched her, struggling to force her hands down, but her muscles were like iron, trembling to resist. "I did what you asked… I played nice, I tried to be- …I can't do it! I can't make it without you! SO I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE ME!"

His answer?

He drove a knee into her stomach and splayed his freed claws, ready to carve her throat with a new scarlet necklace. But in a flash of silver, Alwen was there just as before to slash with his own fury. His eyes were stained with restrained anger as he cut a gash into Marco's chest, driving the winged beast back as Star moved to meet them. But Marco righted himself, and in seconds his wounds were closing with viscous black oil.

"You're in… my way."

"Then move me, boy."

With another kick, Marco drove Alwen through what remained of the forge, his face scrunched with the effort of healing. He could expect him to stay down this time, but what he hadn't expected was the blur of gold, and the ivory, bloodstained arm that curled around his throat. He hissed, but Star kicked out his legs, forcing him down low and pinning his wings with her feet. He struggled to grasp at her hands but she only tightened her grip, pushing his shoulder to its breaking point.

He groaned as she tried to force him lower, but he wasn't giving in. He wasn't losing his will. He wasn't. Fucking. Dying.

"You just dont..don't… give up… do you?" She seethed, envious of the times when his willpower had kept them alive. He was a force to be reckoned with, but so was she, as she had proven time and time again. He wouldn't give up after she'd given him a taste of his humanity back that night, and neither would she. As her skin started to shift to purple, the girl unaware of the horrified whispers and gasps just out of sight, she tightened her grip further, cracking his collarbone with a sickening crunch. "Fine then… I'll just RIP YOU OUT OF THAT BASTARDS HANDS, EVEN IF IT KILLS ME!"

She'd been through too much with him to lose everything now. She needed him, and this world wouldn't take him away without a fight to the death. And as her mind began to fade into something more hungering, more primal? She had every desire to make him need her just as much.

Looking past her, Marco freed his wings and flared them out, pushing her back as he spun to cut her in half with his claws. But what he was met with, was a flash of purple and lavender that send three fists up into his jaw with a boom that shook the cave. He hovered in place for a moment, pushing the Stars in his vision aside before six hands jutted forward, sending a hexagon of concentrated magic into his midsection. He was blasted back into the far wall as the approaching buzz filled his ears, dipping down the wall just seconds before three fists drilled a deeper hole right above him.

Gravel rained down on his dark wings, but Marco drove two heels into the creature's. gut to blast her back towards the ceiling. He could take to the air and finish her, his claws flexed and ready to cut her flight from her back. But Star flared wings of her own, raking her nails into the closest stalactite and swinging around, breaking it off at the new weak point and rolling.

Marco was just about at her, ready to cut the nuisance down for good, and leave. He had to return to his master, he had to slaughter everything in sight, he had to… he had to go home?

The thought came like a flash, but it was gone just as fast. And like clockwork, Star came out of her roll with the massive peice of stalactite, dropping it down in a ferocious hammer blow. With a deafening boom Marco was sent hurtling to the ground in a spray of dust, slamming into the stone below with a loud, desperate gasp. He opened his black eyes in a mad panic, just in time to see the nightmare butterfly come down had, and swing the stone club towards his face.

And then there was only darkness.

Cold, lifeless darkness that sucked the warmth from his very bones.

Marco was trapped, sinking in an ocean of tar that spanned far into the horizon. It was cold, colder than anything he'd ever felt before, like needles stabbing into his skin where it pinned him into place. He didn't know how long he'd been here, or if he'd ever been anywhere else. There was just the ocean, and… a light?

Through the darkness that receaded, Marco could see a face, and a warmth began to pour over his body to replace the cold. His eyes saw light, far away beyond the horizon, and as he fought to stay awake, the light came closer. It illuminated the face, it chased away the cold, and it forced a warmth into his chest that struggled to stay.

"Marcoooo…"

He couldn't speak, he wasn't even breathing. But that one word drew out the darkness in full, the wisps of black fighting to keep him tied in place, to push away the light.

He could see Star, or… her butterfly transformation at least, and he could see himself.

Star was straddling him. Six arms pinning down his two, her wings pinning down what looked like his. Her glowing eyes were boring holes into his, and she was panting from whatever effort it had taken to put him down. She bled purple blood down her forearm and cheek, her eyes draped in a curtain of deep lavender.

Marco let out a withering hiss at her, his breath a cold wisp of air, but she hissed right back, her fangs just as gleaming and sharp as his own. He faltered, and the Butterfly hissed again, bringing her face close to his in a near roar. This time, when he faltered, he stayed down, his curious black eyes staring at her with blanket interest.

"You… are miiiine," she purred, her lips curling into a smile, "you will not fall… without my permission. I will accept no other… and I will make you need me."

She released him from two of her hands, leaning back to leer at him like a lioness hunts it's prey, before she plunged two hands into his chest with a sickening crunch, and a flash of purple.

From inside, Marco could see the darkness crack under her weight, her force, her drive. White light pulsed like veins of silver throughout the darkness, and with a huff of satisfaction, Star pulled a mass of dark sludge from his chest as Marco let out a scream from hell.

The mass of flesh and sludge beat like a heart, pulsing and pumping more of that vile ooze through his system as he howled in pain. But Star stared at it, looking at him with confusion before hissing in anger. She squeezed the mass in fury, letting him scream to his hearts content, for she held it in her own two hands. And with a mass of purple light, she filled it.

She poured her hatred, her anger, her jealousy, her fear, her love. And as she did so, the black sludge burned in her hands, but it didn't yield. It grew stronger, pulsing with purple and hardening into stone. So without grace or care, Star shoved the mass back into Marco's chest, letting it heal and close shut as she watched.

The moment his chest closed, he stopped, falling still as his mouth moved to gasp, but not a sound came out. Star could only stare at him before her vision was rocked, a kick sending her backwards as Marco writhed in place, gasping for air.

She skid to a stop to flare her wings, collecting magic in her hands, but she cocked her head to the side to watch him. She didnt see Marco… but… it was him, right? She could try again to rip his heart out and purge the darkness, but he wasnt fighting it. He'd accepted her, and after a moment he fell dormant. She didn't need to go any further, and she didn't need to stick around when her Marco wasn't here.

As Marco's blood pooled into red, instead of black, Star let her arms fold into one another, her wings curling into her back. This wasn't over, but she'd done her part, and she could relinquish control to the other for now. With her last breath, she let a smile play across her lips and whispered, "until next time… bad boy…"

Her vision blurred, the Cathedral was upheaved on its side, and with a thud, she fell beside Marco, her hand outstretched to reach for his in her final gasp. The cave was in ruins, a mess of fire and wood and stone, and as a stalactite fell through what remained if the forge, Duwen stepped up to the mess to eye the two 'kids' with interest.

A circle of warriors surrounded them with their weapons drawn, but Duwen waved them off.

"Get a hold of yourselves, they're out cold," she ordered, kneeling to inspect their wounds. They didn't look too beat up, a far cry from the state of the Cathedral, and with a grin she turned to Velona and Juntol. "I told you they were something special. And would you look at this, we might have just found a good specimen to study the Black Wine."

"You cannot be serious! This is exactly why I didnt want these two anywhere near my forces!" Velona hissed, glaring at the two specimens in question, "we can't trust either of them! Look at this place, I wouldn't trust either of these two monsters with my-"

"If you intend, to challenge me…" Duwen began, her smile wilting as she slowly stood. Everyone took a subconscious step back, watching her in silence. "Then you'd better do so, with your sword through my heart. Because that'd be your only hope of coming out alive."

Her optimism quenched for now, Duwen turned to face her commanders and troops casting a wide and deep shadow over the lot of them. When no one said a word, the troops all avoiding her piercing gaze she offered, "anyone else?"

Not a soul breathed.

Velona knew well what was said, about the two welps, about the girls transformation, but now so did everyone else. The secret was out, and if it was true that someone on the inside was leaking intel? She shook her head and let a brief sigh escape her lips, and without protest, she saw herself out. There was too much to do, and too much to repair to waste time arguing.

Juntol folded his arms and inclined his head towards Duwen. "Shall we dispose of them? Or can I assume you have some master plan to handle this?"

"It doesn't look like we have much of a choice," Duwen scoffed, her grin returning in full, "Gather up my son and the rest of the injured, and begin assessment and repairs. With care, draw some of the boys blood to study- hers too. We need to know what we have, and what they can do."

As the troops issued their compliance, moving to carry out her orders with haste, Pezmal approached the two. He looked at Marco, finding not a trace of the Black Wine, but more than enough evidence of a fight. Star too, her perfect skin damaged and scarred from their bout. She was lying there beside him, her hand outstretched for his, breathing slow, ragged breaths.

And she was smiling.

"How much can you carry on your shoulders before your legs give out, before your heart gives up, before you lose the will to fight? Your will isn't a muscle you can condition, it isn't something that gets stronger with age. Even wisdom cannot make your will something that can withstand what life puts on your shoulders. But you don't have to carry it alone, and sometimes, when you're overburdened with life's struggles? You can find any reason for your will to endure, whether it's a passion, a person, or a profession. You just have to find something worth fighting for, and never give up."

~Mr. Ronald Reagan

~H