His Wonderful Message
Chrono Trigger is not mine. Sadly, neither is Magus. Curse you made up characters! Oh, and Squaresoft, too. Can't forget them. They are the ones who have thus tempted me.
Time passed, and Schala had slowly been fending off suitors, as she showed no interest in any of them, and it was also hard to deal with Janus. No one mentioned it, but they didn't like dealing with the Prophet either. He didn't show interest in their princess, but he also gave them warnings when Janus wasn't enough.
The only problem neither he nor Janus could get rid of was Dalton. The man couldn't take a hint, and was even more brazen when he had been drinking. Of spirits, or the power of the Mammon Machine. Both were heady experiences.
The outburst of the Queen had slowly been forgotten, and people pretended that it had never occurred. It was easier that way.
Workers from all of the habitable parts of the bound continents were gathered, and mined precious metals from the earth for the refinement into alloys to build the Ocean Palace. They were worked hard, but fed and rested adequately. The skeleton of the Ocean Palace was slowly being constructed, and as the months passed, it began to take shape. It looked like some sort of beast that had been washed up. It was being constructed on the main continent. Enlightened only helped when necessary, to smooth the process. Large metal structures were lifted by magickal means, and molded into place through such processes as well, as it would be stronger that way. But all the hard work was done by the Earthbound. To Magus, it seemed that they were built for such labors. Even the women were strong and sturdy. Algetty, the village Schala visited most was relatively untouched. Magus knew it wouldn't stay that way forever.
The Queen was slowly losing her focus on her people, becoming more concerned with Lavos. Her children weren't really in her mind either, except for Schala, who was the only one who could use the Mammon Machine.
The Queen spent hours every day basking in the glow of the Mammon Machine itself. Many people were starting to, as it became publicly accessible.
Queen Zeal also became more harsh in her judgments. People were beginning to be fearful of her temper, more so than in the past. She was less stable. Gaspar, almost done with his blueprints, was also starting to notice, as the Queen had begun to harass him to speed up the process, and make demands.
The Guardians, who protected Zeal, were disbursed, and only the troops directly under the control of Dalton were kept. Their masks kept their identities unknown, and no one knew who was still a Guardian or not.
Magus was being called upon more and more, as the Queen demanded to know more of the future. He found himself at a loss more often than not, as the Queen would ask pointless questions at times. He answered her when he could, with questions concerning the Ocean Palace, rather than things such as which nobles were plotting against her. As far as he knew, none of them, and he couldn't remember any of them but the Gurus being banished. Everyone else had gone along with the Queen.
One day, Queen Zeal asked for him to attend her in the middle of the night. He had put on his cloak and clothes tiredly.
He was escorted to the room containing the Mammon Machine, rather than her personal quarters.
When he entered, the attendant left, and the Queen ignored him, staring instead at the Mammon Machine.
"My Queen?" he asked, after she ignored him for several minutes. She turned at his voice. Her glazed over eyes looked at him, and she smiled, her face stiff and pale.
"Prophet? When did you get there?" she asked him absently.
"A while ago, my Queen," he answered honestly. "You summoned me?" he asked, politely, hiding his repulsion.
Her face lit up when he mentioned it. "I did summon you!" she exclaimed, excited suddenly. "I had the most marvelous dream, Prophet!" she laughed, "Can you guess what it was?"
He looked at her. "My Queen, you know I need direction to know the thoughts of people," he reminded her. He could read minds to a certain degree. She nodded impatiently, before smiling once more, manically.
"Okay, here is your hint," she said, "It involves the future of the Enlightened, particularly myself," she giggled, feverish and giddy.
Scouring his mind, Magus tried to remember certain things. He felt himself stiffen, and what little color he had in his skin pigment, left him. "You were told you would attain immortality," he softly said, containing his horror, knowing how quickly things would begin to proceed from now on.
"Yes!" she crowed, triumphant. "We will live forever at lord Lavos' side!" And she was so happy, she was shaking somewhat. She cut off suddenly, and looked at him. "Prophet, do you want to live forever, as well?"
"I would if I would be able to continue in my service to you, my Queen," he answered smoothly, knowing he was treading on thin ice. She was volatile, and he hadn't been subject to her ire yet, and was attempting to avoid it. He had over a year to go before he would be at the cusp of his goal. He needed her support.
"Your continued service would be a great asset over the ages," the Queen told him seriously. "And it might give you time to lighten up my dear man," she cooed, and the way her voice softened made him shiver. He recognized that tone, and he knew what it meant.
"As you wish, my Queen," he said, bowing lightly to her, "Now if I may return to my chambers, I should return to slumber, so I may continue to be of service to you," he suggested, trying to escape. He knew the Queen had developed appetites recently, and he did not want to be one of her targets. So his tone remained bland.
As he hoped, the Queen lost interest in him quickly, as she waved him away, she returned to staring up at the Mammon Machine, and forgot all about him. Not that she ever forgot for long. Her appetites included any knowledge of the future. And power. She needed more power. It still enveloped Zeal, but more and more, it's scope was becoming more limited, and including her and those she favored.
Schala was one of those she favored more, due to her great abilities. Only the Queen never thought of the powers Schala had been blessed with, and focused only on her daughters' interactions with the Mammon Machine itself.
Magus lightly made his way back to his quarters, staying in the shadows as much as possible, which for him, was almost completely, as darkness clung to him even in daylight. He passed Dalton, who was heading to the Mammon Machine. Magus crinkled his nose at the odor the man emitted. He had been drinking already, and was heading to the Mammon Machine to further his self-induced drunkenness. As disgusted as Magus was by this display, he was further repulsed by what he knew might occur in the room itself. The Queen was in her own delirium basking in the Machine as she was already.
Magus growled to himself, and quickened his pace to his quarters. He knew he probably wouldn't sleep anymore this night. The black wind had picked up once more, although this time it felt different. The wind whispered a more personal message this time. Something that affected him rather than others. The dire warnings warded off sleep, and made him rather restless.
At the entrance to his room, he found himself hesitating. He turned around instead, and began to pace the hallways. This was better than wandering his room, as it gave him something new to look at, and would give his rug a rest. It was the middle of the night, so the halls were devoid of life, beyond the plants placed in alcoves every so often, or a nu sleeping in a corner, which was as good as dead, in his personal opinion.
After a while, he found himself in a section of the castle he rarely visited, due to his distaste for the gurus. His wandering feet had taken him there, though, and for lack of anything better to do, Magus followed them, as they seemed to have a mind all their own.
Lights flickered in a drawing room with the door cracked ahead, and around a corner. Magus was going to turn away, but he heard the voice of Melchior, who actually sounded excited, which didn't happen very often. Melchior's tone of voice was quite often dry, and sometimes cantankerous. Magus didn't know what Schala saw in the old man, besides a strange liking for the Earthbound, which she sadly shared. All this did for Magus was dislike the man more. His respect for the gurus only took him so far. Personally, he liked Gaspar the most, as the man was rather quiet, and kept to himself more often. His studies involved time. Balthazar had a liking of the nu's, and Magus couldn't even begin to fathom that particular quirk.
"You two have been very helpful, you know," he heard Melchior saying. "Without you, I couldn't have finished my masterpieces," the old man kept going.
Then he heard the odd creatures, Masa and Mune, reply to his gushing thanks. "It was an honor to help you, Guru of Life," they replied formally, as they greatly admired Melchior.
"I have used the last of my dreamstone to finish these pieces," continued Melchior. "I was planning on showing the Queen my elemental pieces, but I think I'll keep the knife for myself," Melchior continued, "after all, I might get lonely in my old age," the man joked, suddenly. Magus heard the two creatures laugh with Melchior.
"Too bad big sister Doreen wasn't interested," Mune said after a moment.
"Doreen likes her dreams too much," Masa said almost immediately after.
And Magus left. He knew the elemental weapons would be sealed away. He knew Melchior would subsequently be banished. It was all a matter of time. He knew Melchior would be banished after the weapons were sealed. Magus decided to return to his chambers, to meditate. It would tell him more of the future, as he ruminated and dreamed it all once more.
He sat on his abused rug once he reached his chambers, and it wasn't the same as sleep, and wouldn't leave him as refreshed, but it was more useful, and as he couldn't sleep, it was much better than nothing. And he fell into his childhood once more, the time passing until the sun from the window touched his face, letting him know it was early morning. And he knew.
Melchior would be gone within the week. He smiled grimly, and didn't feel any pang of guilt as he knew he would be a part of his banishment. It was a necessary action for the good of the world, and his own anger.
A few days later, Magus was in the Throne Room of Zeal Palace. He was beside the Queen, awaiting Melchior, who had requested an audience formally.
"Prophet," drawled the Queen languorously, in her giant throne. "What did you say the old man wanted, again?"
"My Queen," Magus inclined his head to the woman, "He has created great works, a helm, and a sword, and they are his greatest works," he explained once more.
"Why would he need to make those? We are a peaceful nation," laughed the Queen, slightly hysterical, finding it strangely amusing, and unable to contain herself.
"Melchior is a man who creates whatever he feels is necessary," Magus told the Queen, already setting in motion what he knew must come.
"Necessary?" Queen Zeal asked sharply, eyes hard. But she didn't' get past that. A waiting lady, curtsying deeply, announced Melchior was to come in. Queen Zeal smiled, teeth glinting, and it was an unpleasant sight.
Melchior came in, smiling to himself. He had a bundle wrapped in cloth tucked under his arm. Magus' sharp eyes saw a new dagger at his side, with a leather bound hilt. He dismissed it, ignoring a wisp of wind in the back of his mind, as it didn't portend threat.
"Melchior, Guru of Life," began the Queen, her upset completely erased, her face pleasant once more, "What announcement have you come with?"
"Great Queen," Melchior bowed, leaning on his cane, as his back was stiff from age. "I have brought you my masterpieces," and he stood up straight. "If you would, may I unveil them?" he asked politely.
Queen Zeal nodded assent, a benevolent look upon a tranquil face, as if she were as she were less than a year ago. Melchior smiled to himself, and some attendants he had brought with him, set out a table, and bowed their way out. With a small flourish, the cloth was removed from his creations, and was smoothly set upon the table, and the helmet was placed gently on it first, then the sword, whose shape looked familiar to Magus.
"I have created a helmet, which protects the user from both physical and magickal damage," Melchior said, proudly, showing the beautiful helmet, which had some small dreamstone inlay, and other precious stones cut to a thinness that belied the fact that they were stone. The helmet was a silvery color, with both the red and blue that dreamstone tended to be.
"It is very beautiful," the Queen told Melchior, "May I inspect it?" she asked politely.
"Of course," laughed Melchior, gladly letting his Queen look. And Queen Zeal inspected it closely, and even she admitted it was the best work she had ever seen in her life. She handed it carefully back to Melchior, and he went on to the sword. "I have also created a sword, which is sharper than any other, is made of an alloy that cuts better, and holds an edge that will never tire. It is of such strength that I doubt it could be broken ever. I have dubbed it the Swallow for it's speed and grace of form," Melchior said, obviously very proud of the sword, as well.
Queen Zeal waved it closer, and showed it to Dalton first, then him. "What do you think of it, my Prophet?" she asked him coquettishly.
"I have never seen it's equal, my Queen," he answered, and it was true. It hit him where he had seen it before. The children who had worked together, and had been able to defeat him. He had finally dismissed it from his mind, as he had never lost before in his life, and it irked him irrationally that this sword was of the same form as the red-headed boy. The Queen saw his sudden grimace.
"Prophet, why do you make such a face?" she asked him, tone light, but suddenly wary.
"This sword reminds me of something distasteful," he answered, quickly smoothing his face over.
"How distasteful?" she suddenly asked, "Is it past or future that you are reminded of?" she questioned.
Magus had a hard time answering. It was technically in his past, but it was also in a time yet to come. "It reminds me of something that has yet to happen," was his answer, and it was an answer that served more than one purpose.
"Melchior," the Queen suddenly asked the old man. "Why would you create weapons in such peaceful times?"
"It is what I do," the old man answered, wary of the tone the Queen took with him.
"We have no need of such things anymore," Queen Zeal continued, "We have the great lord Lavos protecting us, and even if something could threaten us, we are far more advanced than anything else out there."
"True, but how can I ignore my calling?" Melchior insisted, stepping forward slightly.
"And you even approach me adorned in martial fashion," the Queen snarled suddenly, her eyes had not missed his dagger either. "Since when do you wear weapons, Guru of Life," the Queen asked sneeringly, jumping to conclusions, accusation in her voice.
"My Queen, it is only a trifle," Melchior answered her, face pale. He took another step forward, "Let me show you."
"Do not approach further," growled Dalton, eyes glimmering, enjoying being able to order the old man about. Dalton did not like the gurus. The Queen smiled at Dalton, as he was a favored pet of hers.
"So it is true," Melchior said sadly, deflating slightly.
"What is true, my adviser," the Queen asked coldly, face stiff once more.
"You are becoming more paranoid," Melchior told her, voice still sorrowful.
"Paranoid of what? People I trust who disagree with me every chance they get? Being brought weapons in a time where they are of no use?" the Queen listed off her grievances. "How is this paranoia?" she screeched, voice gaining volume in her anger.
"I have advised you for nearly five years, my lady, and before you, the King," Melchior sighed, "When have I ever done anything but tell you my true feelings?"
"You have disliked the Ocean Palace, and forsaken Lavos," the Queen snarled at him, "And those are acts beyond forgiveness."
"My lady, you are not fit to be a Queen in your present state," Melchior said sadly, tears gathering in his lined and crinkled face. "Zeal does not need who you are, but who you were," he finished quietly, his spectacles becoming dirtied by his slow tears.
"You are committing treason with every word you utter," the Queen growled, voice low, more animalistic than believed possible.
"If speaking my mind is treason, I will continue to commit this act, as long as we continue down this path," Melchior told her, his voice heartbroken.
"Dalton, take him to a waiting room, and seal him in there," she growled, vicious. And Dalton bowed deeply to his Queen, gave Melchior an unpleasant smile, and escorted Melchior from the room.
After a few minutes, the Queen focused her attention back on Magus.
"Prophet," she asked, "What do you think I should do with that senile old man?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully, her anger just below the surface.
"He is old and feeble, but influential," he mused. "Death would be argued against. The learned way would be to banish him," he continued. Voice low and uncaring, the Queen listened to it raptly anyways.
"Banishment?" she giggled. "That is a good idea."
"Guru Melchior enjoys living with the Earthbound," Magus remembered, "You could seal him away instead," he decided, unable to help himself with a little of his own cruelty.
"Wonderful!" the Queen applauded. "I shall decide where!" and she waved him off, and as he exited the room obediently, he heard the Queen humming to herself.
He didn't shudder, as he knew the feeling she was experiencing, in his own way.
Later that day, he found himself at the garden again. He often went there when he was at a loss for something to do. He stayed in the shadows, though. Magus knew the only reason that he visited the garden was because Schala loved it there, but at the same time, didn't want her to see him there. The relationship they shared had become somewhat awkward since she had turned seventeen. He had a hard time containing himself around her, especially after he had become so familiar with her, but he knew he didn't deserve her. She was too pure, too sweet and kind, too good for the likes of him. He would only taint her in the end. So he tried to avoid her when he could, and when at last he couldn't take it anymore, he sounded strained whenever he spoke with her. For her part, Schala was confused, and hurt by his actions. Another reason to avoid her, in his mind.
She didn't give up on him. She stayed friendly, and enjoyed his company as much as she was able to with his newly awkward behaviors. Magus was truly grateful for her tenacity. Even if he wouldn't say so to her.
She arrived in the garden, as he knew she would eventually, and tucked himself further into the shadows, trying to stay somewhat hidden, although it was a futile effort for the most part, as the garden was lit by the sun.
Sure enough, Schala spotted him almost immediately, being a rather quick-minded and observant girl. Magus smiled to himself, then stopped himself from doing so, reminding himself he had to distance himself from her before he saved her from Lavos.
As Schala approached him, she smiled tiredly, then sighed as she plopped down on the bench beside him, limp-boned.
"May I help you, Princess?" he asked her politely, voice bland, so bland that it hurt him to speak thusly.
"No thank you, Prophet," she answered him, just as blandly, before giving him a quick smile. "I'm just tired, is all, and Janus is busy with his studies."
Magus shrugged a little. "Am I to entertain you then, Princess?" he asked, voice sardonic as he smiled at her, unable to control his humor.
"No, I was just hoping you would sit there and talk at me in your droning Prophet voice," Schala giggled at him.
"I can do that," Magus droned at her. "Anything else I may do to accommodate you, Lady Schala?" he asked, voice deep and dry.
"Nope, that's about perfect," she told him, voice happy, beyond the tiredness she acquired after working with the Mammon Machine. He was actually talking to her like he used to.
"I am glad to have assisted you," he replied, voice taking a lighter tone once more. Some days he had a harder time giving in to her temptation. And she was always tempting him to humor.
"I get to go to Algetty again next week," Schala told him. "Janus is coming with me again, but he's just going to sulk the entire way."
"Of course he will," Magus said, matter of factly. He understood why the boy sulked, although now he didn't really approve of that approach.
"Melchior said he was going to accompany us too," Schala giggled, excited at the prospect. "He doesn't usually find time to do so."
Magus felt his happiness drain away, like water in a sink. And it was gone. Melchior would not accompany her, not this trip, nor any other. And it was partially his fault that the old man was gone. Magus didn't feel guilt for the old man, but for his sister. He had participated in taking away one of her only actual friends. He remembered how sad she had been before, but this time, instead of as a child, it was his fault.
"Are you well?" Schala asked him, digging him out of his pit of despair. Only to let him tumble back in.
"Nothing. You will find out later," he said, and he got up to leave. "I am sorry, but I must return to my duties for now," he apologized, and he wasn't apologizing just for leaving. He was running away.
"Prophet," she called after him. And he paused, and looked over his shoulder. "Thank you for sitting with me," she said, thanking him, her wan smile chasing him all the way back to his quarters.
The week had passed, and Melchior had been sealed away. Schala had cried and pleaded, but the Queen would not be swayed. Her eerie smile was that of a mannikin. And the mountain chained to the Terra continent had been entitled Mt. Woe. The elemental guardian, Giga Gaia, had been set to watch over the sealed Guru of Life. No one understood it. The guardian of the mountain had always been a benevolent spirit. But now, no one could even approach the chained mountain. Creatures had been placed there to keep people out. The mountain had become foggy of late. From a distance, the earthbound swore they saw murky shapes wandering.
In the great plain of Terra, the shell of the Ocean Palace was being plated, and the insides were being developed. The workers were beginning to get scrawny, with a sickly look about them. Guards were posted more heavily about the gargantuan shell. And no one objected to the knew trend of behavior the Queen had suddenly begun to exhibit more publicly.
The remaining Gurus held an ominous silence. The Queen showed no dismay at this. She had taken control of the construction of the Ocean Palace, and had the finished blueprints. She held no trust for either Balthazar or Gaspar.
And a week after that, she shared with her council the promise of immortality. And planned to share the news with her people as soon as the new palace was done with it's outer plating. Her council was down to four.
Magus was roaming the hallways, troubled once more. He was troubled all the time, in truth. And his room wasn't large enough to contain his dismay. So instead he abused the hallway's carpets with his restless pacing.
The enlightened that he encountered on his travels got out of his way quickly. It was as if there was a palpable aura of darkness surrounding him nowadays, and it only became darker as time passed.
He was watching the meeting in his head once more.
The Queen, upon her large throne, and her councilors gathered around. The full council of nine, only Melchior missing.
Queen Zeal was fidgeting in excitement to share her wonderful message with her beloved people. And first she would share it with her closest friends and companions. Her fingers were digging into the arms of her throne, and Magus was sure he could see little divots being ground out.
As the advisors went, only Magus was actually at the Queen's side. Everyone else, including Dalton, were spread out in front of her. All were equally excited, the Queen's joy being contagious. Everyone except the two Gurus who remained. The Queen, who had been overly suspicious of them as of late, ever since her perceived betrayal of Melchior, wasn't even frowning at them at their consternation.
She had demanded that Schala attend as well, and she was behind with the Gurus. She wasn't as fond of them as she had been of Melchior, but they were still her close friends. Janus was there, and he huddled close to his sister, hand clutching hers. Magus knew that the boy was listening to the black wind, and as he watched, could see the tension that gripped the boy's small frame. Magus didn't hear the wind at the moment himself. He heard the lonely despairing wail of it coming on, for different reasons. He didn't know what was coming, but he could feel it's approach. But for now, he had a small silence.
Finally, the Queen spoke, her voice surprisingly calm and even, considering everyone could see her trembling visage.
"My sweet councilors and family, friends," she began, almost cooing. "I have heard a message, it came to me in reverie," and everyone became more focused on the Queen, wondering, as she paused dramatically. "We all know that the lord Lavos bestows upon us an infinitesmal fraction of it's great power." Everyone did know this. They had heard of it, and learned it's joy over the last year. The people of Zeal had become addicted to the heady power source in the time that had passed since it's welling up. "His wonderful message was given to me a fortnight ago," Queen Zeal continued, eyes becoming more feverish as she told them of it, "And that message was immortality!" was her finishing statement, crowing victoriously. "Our people have been chosen to live at lord Lavos' side for all of eternity!" And her laughter echoed queerly through the circular chamber, becoming more distorted as it bounced from the walls.
The councilors looked at each other worried. The Gurus knew better than to look doubtful. Schala and Janus were closer now, Janus with his eyes screwed shut, the full force of the black wind buffeting him, and Schala supporting him, eyes wide with shock, and almost horror. Dalton's eyes were gleaming. He believed every word that the Queen spoke. He knew it's truth.
Magus stayed silent, head bent in apparent thought. He knew the fate that Zeal befell. The lies Lavos told the Queen to tell the people. The lies the Queen wouldn't care about as time marched uncaringly forward. His wonderful message was meaningless death. And Magus would let it happen. He suppressed a shiver.
Then the clamor begun, the doubtful advisers speaking up their feelings. The Queen's demeanor chilled immediately. Her eyes became cold and inhuman. Her skin was like stone.
"You dare question Lavos?" she hissed, and the room quieted once more. There was a look of fear slowly sinking into the faces of her doubters. Of the nay-sayers to the message she had proclaimed in joy. "You may not do such a thing! Never in my presence! And if you do so out of it, I will hear of it!" she screeched in anger. The advisers flinched away from her anger. They knew what had happened to Melchior.
The subservience they offered next came too late. The Queen knew of their treachery to her cause, and would not tolerate it.
"You will be dismissed from my council summarily, and if I hear anything else from you, you will be punished," she growled, voice pitched low again, the difference from the high screeching hard to believe. And she sent them away, eyes dark, staring after them, brooding. Magus knew she wasn't done with them, he felt it whispered to him through the black wind. He didn't care about them, though. Queen Zeal turned her gaze back to the remaining people in her throne room, face benevolent and serene. "This is a joyous occasion, is it not?" she asked them. Only Dalton answered her.
"Yes, my Queen!" he shouted, excited, face alit with ambition, and something darker. But the Queen didn't notice that. She only noticed his submission to the will of her dark deity. She ignored everyone else's silence to her question.
And Magus was shaken from his reverie by an abnormally loud shriek of the black wind. It was a tumult through his mind, and it almost confused him. But it panicked him as well. He did not know what to expect, only that he needed to run.
As he ran, he registered that he was running towards an empty segment of corridors, unused since the observatory had been closed down years ago, as Zeal's interest in the stars had waned.
While he ran silently onwards, feet not really touching the ground anymore, body tilted for less drag, he heard a muffled cry, and his heart skipped a beat as he recognized the sweet voice that made it. And for once, horror and fear penetrated his heart. He went faster than he had ever gone before.
At the end of the hallway was a staircase that spiraled up and up to a domed observatory. He raced up the stairs, afraid of what he might find, his heart palpating roughly against his ribcage.
The last door was slightly ajar, and he paused, only to hear another cry, loud now, since it wasn't traveling down a corridor and stairs. His mind told him that the black wind had accentuated it, and he knew that he might not have really heard it with his ears. That didn't matter though. He pushed open the door firmly, but not roughly, mind calming down as he assessed the situation.
He didn't remain calm long. The room wasn't dusty, since charms prevented that happening. But against a side wall, was Dalton, and cowering with a ripped blouse, was his sister. Further enraging him, he saw a bruise on her upper cheek, and her lip was split.
Dalton himself hadn't noticed him yet, as the door opened silently, but Schala saw him almost immediately.
Magus watched a relieved look cross her face. Dalton saw it too, and followed her eyes, to see him as well.
"What?" sneered Dalton, nonchalantly grabbing Schala's shoulder and groping her chest.
"Let her go," Magus told him, an authority in his voice that was normally missing, although he said it so tonelessly, it was almost as if an automaton was saying it instead. The only thing that shone were his eyes, and they put off a red reflection that promised pain.
"Or you'll do what, exactly?" Dalton replied, appearing unafraid. He had a strange gleeful look on his face, that hadn't faded since Queen Zeal's proclamation earlier that day. And the ugliness that Magus had been suppressing reared up.
He raced forward with a burst of speed, and twirled Schala out of Dalton's grip in a spinning motion, and tossed her out of the way, taking care not to hurt her anymore.
Snarling, Dalton drew out a dagger from some fold or another. He was still smiling as he did so. After all, he had been wanting to destroy the Prophet for so long. For his part, Magus was snarling as well, but quietly and unseen. Subtleties were good for one on one combat.
Dalton struck out with a harsh stabbing motion, grunting as he did so, and Magus dodged to the side and hit Dalton on the base of his skull, causing him to stumble forward, and catch himself. Only to swing out to Magus' direction again, which Magus promptly dodged, yet again, having superior speed, and having been fighting for the entirety of his life. Dalton was clumsy compared to him. Magus struck him in the kidneys this time, and Dalton grunted in pain instead of effort.
This continued until Magus had maneuvered Dalton against the wall, where he finally struck out with a real attack, grabbing Dalton's wrist as he tried another stab, and broke the man's wrist, taking the dagger as he did so, spinning, cutting his upper arms, then stabbing quickly his shoulders, and as the man writhed to attack him with his other arm, Magus did a shoulder slam, forcing Dalton against the wall, and throwing the dagger at him, landing it in his right eye. He was right behind it, hand catching Dalton in the neck as he tried to buckle in pain.
Magus, being the taller of the two, picked him up to eye level, and hissed in Dalton's ear, "I want you to feel pain, and I don't want it to end here, I want you to continue to hurt," he explained carefully. His hood had gone back, and for the first time, Dalton saw the face of the man he hated. It scared him. And he gurgled, trying to struggle. It stopped when Magus ripped the dagger out of Dalton's eye, and put his fingers there instead, slowly ripping out the remains of his ruined eye. "I don't want you to ever get this eye back," and to make sure of that, he pulped the eye in his hand and wiped it on Dalton's face.
Dalton didn't even get the comfort of screaming. His windpipe was too constricted to scream, but not enough to pass out from lack of air.
Now it was Magus's turn to don the smile which promised pain, and had a devilish glint in his eyes. "Do you want to join your beloved Queen in madness? To join her tortured descent?" he asked Dalton, voice low and teasing. Dalton shook his head vigorously, or as much as he could, back and forth, knowing it was futile to say no. But he couldn't stop himself, fear had overtaken him.
And Magus laughed, as his hand closed in on Dalton's face, magic activating, and moving into the man's mind. He found memories, and tore at them, he took the man's reason, and twisted it into something the same, yet different. "You are a joke," he told Dalton, smiling, "So you will believe it. You are yourself, yet don't belong anymore," he told the man, teeth showing, and the fear in Dalton's face, the wide eye, the sweating skin, the mouth opened and taking shallow breaths, only fueled the joy Magus took from this. When he finished altering the man, similar to what he had done to Flea all those years ago, he dropped him, and the man fell down like a broken doll.
Magus stood still, and looked at him for a moment, before turning back to Schala. She was staring at him, eyes wide and unsure. His face softened immediately, and worry overtook him as he scanned over her for injuries. "Did he hurt you beyond your face?" he asked her, voice almost shaking in fear for her.
And suddenly he was the man she knew again. She ran to him, crying, and he enveloped her in his cape, putting his hood back up again. Dalton wouldn't remember his crime, and Schala was well. She was sobbing into his chest, fingers gripping tightly. He rubbed her back soothingly, and massaged her scalp. "I won't let anyone hurt you ever," he whispered to her. And she nodded, making a hiccuping noise as she did so. "Can you walk?" he asked her. She nodded again, but when she tried, her legs gave out. "I can carry you," he told her, softly. "Where do you want me to take you?" he asked.
Finally she answered. "Take me with you," she whispered, voice rough with tears.
"I cannot leave Zeal, but you can stay with me for the night," he whispered sadly in her ear, and he gathered her up in the folds of his cape, and employed his teleportation, floating a few inches from the floor, he disappeared into gloom, and reappeared in his room, the only color being his pale, soft sister. He held her carefully, but tightly, and carried her to his bed, to lay her down. And he laid down with her, covering them both in his cloak. After he had done all this, and made sure she was comfortable, he told her, "Now you know what I am."
She didn't respond for a while. "I don't care about that," was her careful response. "I just want to be with you."
"That cannot be, not for a long while," Magus told her at last.
"Why? So more things like this can happen?" she asked him, voice tearing up again thinking about what Dalton had just tried to do to her.
"No, so things can get better," he told her, "But first, there will be more pain, and it will get worse," he warned her. "Everything will be getting worse, and I cannot stop it, but I can see it through to the end."
And Schala nodded, he felt it more than saw it, as they hid beneath the layers and folds of his cape.
"I will take you away some day, sweeting," he whispered, promising, "And it will be safe, it will be better, but for now, we must make it through the coming times."
"Okay," she mumbled back, getting tired after she calmed down. "I can't wait."
And they fell asleep together, clutching each other for comfort.
a/n: Well, this was a particularly painful chapter. But it will get better! Believe in the Prophet, he proclaims the truth! ...it'll take a little bit, and now I'm gonna have to change the rating on this I think. Sorry it took so long to come out! I just got distracted for a while. It's been -40 degrees and beyond where I live. Cold, brrr. (celsius or fahrenheit, -40 is the same, shhhh!)
