Author's note:
I'm back since May 2019 and I'm a whole year older! Wow, the sarcasm!
I'm certainly not dead, but my readers might be.
In the off-hand chance you've forgotten everything that's happened, I highly recommend you to skim through the events of the previous chapters to jog your memory. This is of course, entirely my fault and I take full responsibility for that.
Review response:
xeranii - My most valued and loyal reader, reviewer and fellow Fayt/Roger/Albel shipper. I'm moved by your praise and your satisfaction of seeing the direction I took with these characters, truly makes this lonely, maddening journey worth it. I worked really hard in the last chapter to convey the nature of Roger and Albel's relationship, as well as what it means (to Albel and the portrayal of medieval romance) to be a knight. The fact that you noticed it and even found it beautiful, made me feel accomplished and oh so happy :,) I hope you will enjoy this chapter and the rest of my stories!
Resonance of Faith
by Darkinterval
Chapter 8: The Dragon Heir
It was chilly out along the Bequerel Mountain path, the early morning air made colder by the frigid north winds and Airyglyph's relatively longer nights; the sun having yet risen despite the time of day. The group of seven pulled their cloaks tighter against themselves the higher they ascended the rocky terrain, teeth chattering, faces numb, whatever traces of sleep that lingered at the back of their eyelids shocked out of their systems. The only ones who seemed to be unaffected by the harsh temperatures were the two hardy Klausians, Mirage and Cliff, as well as Albel, who cleaved through the winds up ahead like a stubborn, unbreakable force hell-bent on proving these mountains who the real boss was. Nel, unfortunately, seemed to be having it worst of all; the thin and revealing Crimson Blade uniform not exactly choice garments under these wintry conditions. She stopped shaking, however, when she felt another layer of thick, weighty fabric carefully draped over her covered shoulders, unmistakably another cloak, but bigger.
"Don't want Aquaria's finest catching pneumonia at the start of her mission," said Cliff with a cheeky grin, securing the garment around her shoulders. "There you go! Snug as a bug in a rug."
The unexpected yet thoughtful gesture made the Aquarian blush shyly, but nonetheless, she accepted it graciously. "I'll never be able to understand your strange linguistic jargon and expressions," she said with a shake of her head, before flashing the blonde a disarming smile, lovely and grateful. "Thank you, Cliff."
Try as she might, she really couldn't stay mad at Cliff, or stay away for that matter, her conviction quickly crumbling away like sand along the shore – and this was even before he had asked her to dance. This was bad. She knew how she felt about him, unlike anything she had ever felt for anyone else, and resolved to put some distance between them before the point of no return.
Nel walked ahead to catch up with Roger, while Cliff stupidly hung back and watched her go with a dopey grin on his face. Yup, still got it. But man, was Nel beautiful when she smiled, especially if that smile was meant for him.
He was roughly interrupted from his daydream by a not-so-gentle punch to the arm (and by that he meant really painful punch), followed by the weight of another cloak thrown over his shoulders.
"Careful, your goosebumps are showing," teased Mirage with a smug grin. "And unlike you, I have a jacket."
"Bah, a little cold won't kill me," Cliff muttered, partly annoyed that his childhood friend and co-pilot had caught him red-handed and was having a mighty swell time rubbing it in. He didn't reject the cloak though. "... Thanks."
Mirage simply smiled and turned her gaze to the Aquarian up ahead, watching as she frantically caught her unstable, adoptive kid-brother from tumbling off the side of the mountain path. It was only when Nel started admonishing the humanoid on "irresponsible behavior" and being "too young to drink", followed by a "What in Apris were you thinking?" and a glowing green healing aura from her palms, that Mirage returned her attention to Cliff. The amusement fell from her gaze and was replaced with a serious expression; a slight frown and downturned lip.
"You'll never see her again. You know that, right?"
A regretful sigh. "Yeah, I know," he answered, gaze moving to Fayt, who seemed to be sporting a similar faraway expression as he gazed at the mismatched siblings. "Him and I both."
Mirage's hand found Cliff's own, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze that spoke volumes of their years of friendship and trust. Her eyes were sympathetic, worried; her voice calm, yet spoke of an underlying tension between the cracks. "You're my best friend, Cliff. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"Hey, y'know, I'm actually ok with it," said Cliff with a deep chuckle, almost bittersweet. "At least I know it meant something, for me to feel this way."
"You really love her," she remarked with wide, impressed eyes, studying her friend for signs that would imply otherwise, but found none.
He chuckled lowly. "Let's just say... I got a hunch I won't meet another woman quite like her, even if I combed the entire universe – and I don't want to. Nel's something special, irreplaceable, and so are the memories both good and sad."
Despite the situation, Mirage managed a small smirk as she continued to walk beside her partner. His sentiments weren't ideal, but they were… enough. It would seem that Cliff was right all along: he really was a romantic at heart. Too bad they weren't placing any bets, because he had a whole lot more to lose.
They continued their trek in silence, passing yet another abandoned mine entrance. Mirage's shoulders tensed when she spotted a set of glowing golden eyes following their every move from within the dark. Dragons. The whole mountain was crawling with them. The more curious and bold ones peeked out from behind tall boulders and small caves; the quiet chirps that surrounded them indicated that chicks were nearby and abound as well.
As they ventured off-road and deeper into uncharted Bequerel territory, some dragons, namely the overprotective mothers, hissed at them and clawed the ground in warning as they walked past, folding themselves and their wings protectively over their eggs, but otherwise kept their distance and aggression at bay. Mirage was itching for a fight or two, maybe anticipated an ambush with the amount of attention they were amassing, but each possible scenario seemed to fade with every passing second, with every winged beast that shrank back the moment their leader and guide neared and swept past without so much as a glance.
She hung back and gave Cliff a slight nudge, eyes sharp, jerking her head in Albel's direction. "Notice anything strange?"
"Yeah, like how that rock looks like the other rock we just passed back–"
She socked him in the jaw and sighed.
"No, Cliff. I was referring to the dragons."
"Well, why didn't you say so?!" he cried, nursing the ache.
Mirage ignored him to fix her gaze on the retreating back of the Glyphian upfront, the frown on her face contemplative, suspicious, curious. "It's almost as if…" She trailed off. The words danced on the tip of her tongue. "They're afraid of him."
"Not afraid. Reverent." Nel fell into step with the two Klausians, her gaze trained on an indiscernible target on the horizon, the start of a pensive smirk playing across her pink, frost bitten lips, as mysterious as the fog that surrounded them.
"What do you mean?" The question came rather unexpectedly from Maria, who together with Fayt, had just managed to catch up with the rest of them. "Are you saying that these dragons... respect him?"
"Nel," Fayt directed his full attention to the Aquarian, trying to understand what this could mean for the mission, for the coming conflict, and for them. "Does it have anything to do with the Mark of the Dragon on his arm?" Because if that was the case, then the issue regarding Crosell's cooperation either got much easier, or a whole lot more complicated.
"Not exactly," said Nel with a shake of her head, before divulging a small piece of Glyphian mythology she had learnt from her days as a spy. "They say that Albel is the last descendant of the infamous Nox bloodline: a noble and powerful clan that has existed since the birth of this world and the glory days of Aquor. Legend has it that his ancestor gained the Marquis's favor and trust, leading to a blood bond and a natural affinity with dragons – all Noxes are supposedly able to communicate with them. But Albel is… different."
Cliff snorted. "Because he's a pain in the ass?"
"No, ya moron!" Roger suddenly piped in, only to grip his head and groan pathetically from triggering his own hangover. Urgh, screw Albel, he was never drinking again. His protectiveness and tone of admiration did not go unnoticed by the rest. "He failed the 'Ascension of the Flame' ceremony. He's the only Nox in history ta've failed... But here he is, bearin' the mark and still a Nox by blood, willin'ta face up ta Crosell even though it's pure suicide; after all, he already escaped death once – and those dragons know it too!"
If that wasn't a real man, then Roger didn't know what was.
Suddenly, Albel stopped, looking over the edge of a cliff. The group paused to watch him curiously, expectantly. It was the highest point at the end of the mountain path and there was nothing, save grey skies, low clouds, and blotted out reds and oranges of a morning sun.
Roger slumped over his knees and whined. "How much farther? Mah legs are killin' me!"
The frown on Albel's face was one of deep concentration, as he continued to study the rocky peaks and misty, crisscrossing valleys below. The last time he had taken this route was with his father nine years ago.
"The trek through the valleys would take us about three hours on foot, until we reach the Mountains of Barr, the sacred place of dragons." He rested his claw on the hilt of his sword and checked off the points with his fingers. "From there, we will travel upwards through King's Pass, then take a shortcut behind Barr Falls, cut through Dragon Road and into Barr Caves, where we will arrive at the Temple of Air Dragons. From there, it's a straight path through the Urssa Lava Caves and into Crosell's lair. So long as no unforeseen circumstances befall us, the whole trip should set us for about…" He did a quick mental calculation based on the sun's current position in the sky. "19 hours."
That earned him a chorus of agonized groans from six very unhappy people. Roger very much wished to fall off the mountain right about now. He really shouldn't have eaten so much of their food stock earlier.
"How the hell did you think we were going to finish this in one day?!" Cliff yelled and just managed to stop himself from beating up their only guide and current source of frustration. "Come on, I really want to hear you talk your way out of this one."
Albel shot the Klausian a nasty glare. "Maggot! Do you take me for a fool? I told you we will get to the old bastard before sundown and I intend to uphold my word." He stepped away from the edge and approached them with measured steps. "It seems you people have forgotten one very important detail, one which required us to come here, to this very spot, in the first place."
And then, the Crimson Scourge pulsed and a loud roar echoed through the mountain pass, followed by the beat of strong wings, shaking the earth, reaching the skies. A flight of air dragons descended and encircled the party, their piercing golden eyes assessing the nervous humans – all except one, who stood out to them, his imposing figure a dark, intimidating silhouette against the wind. The biggest air dragon, quite possibly the oldest of the lot, approached the Glyphian swordsman, proud and regal. It studied him with a critical eye. Albel reached out and placed a hand upon its snout, confident. Their gazes met, a string of silent memories passed; the dragon's eyes shone with recognition; and just like that, the creature lowered itself and allowed Albel to climb onto its back. The Glyphian adjusted his grip and pulled the reins taut. A reminiscent look entered his eyes from the sensation, from the familiarity of a distant dream.
It's been too long.
"The quickest way to the Mountains of Barr is by flight," Albel told the group in a commanding voice, steadying the beast. "Each air dragon can carry one grown man, so choose your dragon." With that said, he offered his hand to the youngest of the group and helped Roger up. The boy smiled and settled snugly in front of the Glyphian without complaint. No words were exchanged, none were needed.
The low growl that slipped unnoticed through the winds was from Fayt. Fine, he got that Roger was still a kid and there were only six air dragons at their disposal, but why did Albel get to sit with him? That rude, arrogant, no-good Menodix kidnapper. Ok, maybe kidnapper was going a little overboard, and the more logical side of Fayt reasoned that if anyone could juggle between handling an unpredictable air dragonand a hyperactive humanoid child, it was Albel. But it still wasn't fair. Roger liked him, not Albel. He said so himself. They even almost-kissed and made up at Surferio!
'Then why is Roger avoiding you?' asked a little voice in his head, and Fayt frankly couldn't answer that.
The next few minutes consisted of Nel, Fayt, Cliff, Maria and Mirage clumsily mounting their air dragons and receiving a crash course on flying from Albel. Actually, since it was Albel giving the lesson, the pointers were brusque and impatient with more insults and scathing comments thrown in than any helpful tips.
"If you fall off, you die. If you let go, you die. If you get separated from the others… you'll die eventually. Any questions?" said Albel indifferently. In other words, they were on their own.
"Yeah, I got one," said Fayt after he got the hang of sitting on his dragon without being thrown off. "What happens when we're in the air? I assume you're leading, so our dragons will just follow, right?'
"That's two questions, maggot," replied Albel with a sigh, until he realised something a little too late. "None of you worms have ridden any type of dragon before, haven't you?"
"Uh…" Fayt's blank expression spoke for the rest of them. "I rode a horse?"
The cruel bark of laughter that followed was from Albel.
"Then I suggest you hold on tight and pray to your god."
-0-0-0-
They landed at the entrance of Barr Mountains where the sun was at its highest. The flight wasn't too bad, if you considered the utter lack of safety precautions in the first place and the 99.9% of situational learning that just took place. At least they all arrived in one piece and mostly unscathed, except maybe for Nel, whose complexion and hair looked like it had seen better days, not to mention all that screaming. Who knew the Aquarian was afraid of heights? Then again, Crimson Blade spies and Runological Commanders didn't exactly have to leave the ground for combat. Or deal with air turbulence. Or the risk of falling to one's death from the height of clouds. Fayt didn't look too good himself: his legs were wobbly when he dismounted the creature's scaly back, though it mostly had to do with the change in altitude and all that crazy midair dips and corkscrews. Unlike Maria, Cliff and Mirage, he didn't have those years of deep space exploration and riveting life-and-death battles to train his body (not counting the time he escaped from Hyda IV and crash landed in the middle of Airyglyph). Although simulation games counted for some experience, they could never fully compare to riding a living, breathing animal that literally had a mind of its own.
He looked up and was immediately assaulted by the blinding rays of the late morning sun. His vision swam. Urgh, I'm going to throw up…
"Hey, ya ok?" Roger approached the Earthling, deeply concerned, his head tilted to one side to assess his condition. "Ya don't look so good… maybe ya should sit down."
Fayt chanced a glance at his air dragon and shuddered. Urgh, no thanks. If dragons could smile, he suspected this one would be rolling on the ground with laughter by now.
"Nah, I'm fine," he waved off the boy's concern with a brilliant smile, forcing his nausea down. He had to keep up appearances; after all, Albel was watching them like a hawk. "Just not used to riding an air dragon for 30 minutes straight, that's all." He arched his back to stretch out the sore muscles because boy, were dragons' hides hard. "Plus the air here's pretty thin."
Roger hid a chuckle behind his hand. "Surferio's on the highlands, so I guess I'm just used ta it." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a sweet date. "Here. It ain't much, but the sweetness should help with the pukey feelin' in yer gut. I gave one ta Nel earlier 'cuz she really looked like crap… d-don't tell her I said that though. I'd feel bad."
Fayt shouldn't be feeling this good when he was this close to puking, but the humanoid's thoughtful gesture was really sweet and Fayt soon forgot all about the unpleasant journey here and the awkward tension between them. He accepted the date and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly and savoring its tangy sweetness. True enough, the queasy feeling started to ebb and he felt a little better.
"Thanks, Roger. You're an angel."
"Heh, says the guy with actual wings."
Fayt chuckled. "Guess you got me there."
They laughed, pure and honest, exchanging grins. It felt good; the mood was playful and inconsequential in their ignorance – and for a brief second, Fayt actually felt like a boy again, unburdened by purpose. But their eyes met; something changed in Roger's expression and he awkwardly cleared his throat, turning away.
"W-We should get goin'... Long road ahead'n lots ta see!"
He's nervous, Fayt thought as his amusement fell into a hard frown. What the hell, was he missing something here?
"Roger, why are you avoiding me?" He crossed his arms and studied the Menodix carefully. Beneath that cover of awkwardness, Roger looked… sad.
"I thought you– we," Fayt corrected while gesturing at both of them, "were ok. You risked everything and came back for me when we fought those Vendeeni, remember? And I stayed by your bedside begging every and any god up there for you to wake up, to smile at me again, to call my name. I thought–" At this, he hesitated, glaring bitterly off to the side. "I thought we were ready to try again." He noticed Albel from the corner of his eye and shook his head. It can't be. That thought made him feel all sorts of negative emotions. He didn't want to believe it, but what else could it be?
"Unless you no longer feel the same."
This is it, Fayt, he thought. This is the part Roger tells you he's chosen Albel over you, just like you've always feared and -
Wait, was Roger crying?
"I'm n-not... avoidin' ya, Fayt," Roger answered in all honesty, even though he still refused to look the man he loved in the eye. "And I never denied mah feelings fer ya! Not when I love–" He caught himself before his emotional vulnerability could get the better of him. To think he dared call himself a real man. "It's just… ya deserve someone better, Fayt. A mean fighter, super smart, someone real pretty and from yer world. I'm just tryin' ta give ya and Maria some space."
Fayt's heart stuttered and he stared wide-eyed at the boy like he had just sprouted a second head.
"Maria and I…? What?!"
And then the pieces snapped into place, rushed into each other like a jarring jigsaw puzzle too crude in its design and conception, but incredibly intuitive. Kirlsa. Dammit, he knew he heard something in the bushes.
Roger looked so confused, so heartbroken, yet reluctantly accepting. The spark was absent from his big brown eyes, disappointed and crushed by a truth that was far from real. The Menodix had completely given up, even though there was never any competition in the first place. As far as Fayt was concerned, there could only be Roger; he would settle for no one else, but the child believed otherwise and even questioned his self-worth, validated his inferiority against a person who barely even knew Fayt. It made him sick.
"Roger, I know what you saw, and it really isn't what you think it is. That kiss… it was all one big misunderstanding! And Maria knows this, she understands now. She was lonely and confused, and we're just friends. Please don't think so little of yourself."
The Menodix's ears perked up, the start of a hopeful smile on his lips. "Ya mean, ya never–"
"No!" Fayt went down on one knee to lovingly cup Roger's cheek, his bright emerald eyes now narrowed to hold the child's gaze with an intensity that could rival the sun, willing Roger to feel his desperation through his touch. "No," he repeated in a hoarse whisper, crowned with tenderness and so full of love. "How can I, when I've already found what I've been looking for?"
His thumb stroked the soft yet slightly frostbitten skin and Roger nuzzled into his palm on instinct. Fayt's heart swelled with pride. He pressed his forehead against his love's own, wishing to look at no other but his little humanoid boy. Roger's eyes fell shut in bliss, from the familiar contact he yearned for with each and every passing moment they grew apart.
Fayt…
He breathed in his swordsman's natural musk. The scent made his body feel warm and tingly; but more than pleasure, he found comfort in Fayt's presence and devotion. His angel from the stars loved him. He was home.
"I thought ya didn't want me no more…"
"Idiot," Fayt breathed, pulling Roger's tiny form ever closer. He'd be damned if he lost him again – and over a stupid misunderstanding at that. "I never looked at anyone else since I pushed open those doors at Arias and saw that brilliant smile. I never wanted anyone else since I first heard that striking voice and listened to the beautiful thoughts from a beautiful mind. I still think fondly of those memories." With every word, he inched closer, the sound of their beating hearts a union of two stars across the galaxy. "Even if all this must come to an end, I want to cherish this. I want to love you for as long as possible."
A confession uttered weeks ago under the light of the moon. It echoed in the child's memory of their first kiss in Peterny, and made the current reality as romantic as it was bittersweet.
"Ya better not be pullin' mah tail, ya big dummy," Roger said with a barely concealed smirk. It made Fayt smile knowing that all was forgiven, that they would always have each other no matter what.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
With a smile and wag of his tail, Roger's eyes slid shut as he leaned in, lips parted in a silent moan; and Fayt followed suit, surrendering to his yearning–
"WORM!"
Oh. My. God.
Fayt's composure slipped. They quickly pulled apart and he had to mentally count to 5 to stop himself from screaming and hurling Albel off the mountain.
"What?!"
"Hurry up! I have something important to tell you maggots before we begin," Albel growled, gesturing for the party to gather round so he could get this over and done with. Meanwhile, the air dragons rose from their resting positions and took flight. Maria watched them leave the same way they came, their great wings a shimmering canvas against the horizon.
"They're not following us?"
Albel shook his head.
"We're in Crosell's territory now. Sacred grounds. The dragons here are more… wild." His eyes darted about warily. "Crosell's influence is stronger here – and that means we aren't going to get the same treatment we did back at Bequerel Mountain." Really, it was extremely inconvenient. If they could continue by flight, they wouldn't have to journey to the Urssa Lava Caves by foot – a far less effective and safe route too.
"Only dragon knights have air dragons, and each one is loyal only to the human who passed their test. As such, Airyglyph's dragons have been living amongst humans for centuries. This place is no longer their home."
"Then why did they help us?" Mirage looked to him curiously. It seemed she wasn't the only one who wondered this.
"... Because I asked them to," said Albel quietly, unconsciously tightening his grip around his sword's hilt. "I'm a Nox. Why else do you think the King wants me here?"
When all he received was silence for his answer, Albel reached under his armor faulds and tossed a small handful of amulets to the gang, who scrambled to catch them before any could hit the ground or smack them in the face. The little gold trinkets, small enough to conceal beneath the breast of their clothing, were intricately crafted in the likeness of a soaring bird with a sparkling ruby at its center.
"What are they?" Maria asked, examining the small accessory in fascination, picking at it. They looked expensive – and when she turned it over in the palm of her hand, Airyglyph's crest and insignia of the dragon brigade could be clearly seen.
"The Amulet of Freedom, a proud symbol carried by all young Glyphians once they come of age, especially those who seek the Marquis' blessing to serve their kingdom as a knight of the flame," answered Albel with a surprising level of amicability. However, once he realised his rival was looking at him deliberately, he growled and quickly turned his back to Fayt, while internally admonishing himself for his own pitiful sentimentality. Bah, what foolishness. Those self-righteous ideals of honor and glory had faded long ago with his past self and unforgivable mistakes.
"A single scratch from these mountain dragons can paralyze you from head to toe. Be on the receiving end of these attacks for a sustained period, and the damage is permanent." Albel felt the others' suspicious stares drilling holes into the back of his head and really did snap this time.
"What? Did you maggots think I was playing all day in Kirlsa? Distrust me if you wish, but let me tell you this: it was a bloody pain to track down Vox's old subordinates and an even greater inconvenience to convince them to hand over their charms. Amongst the ranks, I'm nobody." He folded his arms and the sarcasm that left his mouth was nothing short of obvious. "You're welcome."
It was somewhat pleasing to note that Nel, Cliff and Fayt actually looked guilty, but Albel wasn't one to relish in cheap thrills and poor virtue. Instead, he approached Roger and knelt down to the boy's level to remove his own amulet and place it around Roger's neck. "Unfortunately, I only managed to gather 6, including my own."
Albel was about to pull away, but Roger immediately grabbed his hand and placed it over the pendant that hung on his chest. "But what about ya?" The worry in his voice was evident. Albel simply touched his cheek gratefully and rose to his full height.
"Crosell's dragons can't touch me, not without some grueling effort on their part. Going against a Nox would be like going against their instincts. It damages the psyche and spirit… however, I can't say the same for you worms." He paused and seemed to consider something he just said, but shook his head, angry at his growing partiality towards his not-so-new acquaintances. "Bah! What foolishness..."
With that, Albel forged ahead, grumbling all the way. If he bothered to turn around however, he would have seen the genuine smiles on their faces.
-0-0-0-
True enough, the dragons attacked.
Wave after wave of brass dragons assaulted the group, the ravenous looks in their eyes quelled only by the presence of Albel, no matter how slight. It was better than nothing. From there, they decided to divide themselves into two teams: Fayt, Cliff and Maria; Roger, Mirage and Nel; and Albel would lead each team, alternating as they cleaved through King's Pass. It was a good plan and so far, no one sustained any serious injuries or paralysis thanks to the amulets; but by the time they defeated a zombie dragon guarding the entrance to Barr Falls, it became apparent that Albel was growing weary from the physical and mental strain. Projecting his inner dragon spirit to tame these beasts long enough to take them down, was no walk in the park; and as soon as they entered the caves, the ex-captain collapsed on the nearest rock he could find, cold sweat gathering on his brow, panting heavily. However, he rudely refused Fayt's canister of water, much to the latter's chagrin, and was off again in less than 2 minutes.
Fayt watched him go and clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Geez, that guy's stubborn attitude is going to get him killed!"
"Funny you should mention that, because it kinda reminds me of someone we both know," said Nel as she shot the swordsman a playful smirk. Fayt rolled his eyes.
"Oh ha-ha. Very funny."
"No, really – if it's anyone who comes close to thinking like Albel, it's you. I've seen how the two of you fight and there's nothing quite like it – it's incredible! There's a natural flow and synergy between you two, almost as if you know just where the other would be or what they're about to do. You complement each other." Nel smiled at Fayt's skepticism. "There's this saying that a sword binds two brothers in arms. You should try talking to him."
"Well, we all know how that's going to end," said Fayt with a wry smirk, repeatedly tossing the canister up into the air and catching it. "But I do know someone who he'll definitely listen to. Unfortunately."
And with a begrudging sigh, he approached Roger with a new task and request. A quick peck on the forehead was all the humanoid needed, before he raced off to force some water down the stubborn Glyphian's throat. Fayt knew he couldn't live it down if their only guide ended up dying from dehydration, rival or not, and if he needed to use their mutual love interest to get the job done, then so be it.
This continued for the next 2 hours: Albel would be on the verge of passing out after every battle, Fayt would offer his help, only to be harshly rejected by the proud ex-captain. While it could have something to do with the fact that Fayt was holding his ground in a fight a lot better than Albel was, he was only doing better because he wasn't repeatedly throwing his goddamn life force at vicious dragons, along with a few punches. But his suggestion to the older swordsman to take a rest fell on deaf ears. It appeared as though Albel Nox had something to prove. Fayt just wished the guy chose a different place, under different circumstances, to catwalk his stupid ego.
Things only got worse in the Temple of the Air Dragons when they confronted a vexing sprite by the name of Robin Wind, guarding the entrance of the Urssa Lava Caves. Thankfully, the little pixie didn't need the aid of dragons to have the upper hand in a fight – and boy, did he have it! If it weren't for Mirage, Cliff would have caused the entire temple foundation to collapse from his frustration when dealing with the infuriating brat. Suffice to say, Cliff Fittir wasn't that great with children. But the battle had dragged out longer than anticipated, and the continuous back-and-forth tussle wore out the entire party. That was when Albel decided to unleash his inner demons, figuratively speaking; and Fayt found himself bearing witness yet again to a powerful crimson aura in the form of six bloodthirsty dragon spirits. Memories of their showdown at the Bequerel Mountain Path flashed through Fayt's mind; how Albel had almost completely decimated him from this attack; and he watched as the dragonic souls consumed the screaming wind spirit and dragged him down with them into the depths of hell.
The rest of the party stood there, speechless. Not even the late Vox, Military General and Captain of the Dragon Brigade, could do that – and that guy was as tough as they come. Suddenly, it made sense why Albel was here with them on this mission; there really was a lot going on in the Glyphian's mind and past than they had been originally led to believe.
Stumbling from exhaustion, Albel turned to shoot his gawking audience a nasty sneer. Idiots, all of them.
"What… are you maggots... staring at? You look even more foolish… with your… stupid–"
And then he collapsed face-first onto the ground. The others rushed over, Roger desperately calling out to his knight, his small fist clenched tight against his chest as he felt Albel's strain through their bond.
He overdid it again, that moron.
"He's fine, guys, but he's very weak," said the Menodix, quelling the angry tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. "He needs rest! Albel stands no chance against Crosell lookin' like this…"
Maria crouched down next to Roger and assessed their fallen companion's condition with her quad scanner. Her eyes narrowed at the reading. "Roger's right. His vitals are erratic and he's experiencing high levels of fatigue and vertigo." She moved to wipe the sweat from Albel's brow with a look of deep concern. "We need to stop."
"Now? Hate to break it to you guys, but we're in one of the most dangerous places on the map where dragons can ambush us any second… And dragon whisperer here can barely complete a full sentence," Cliff replied, unable to fully conceal the urgency and growing exasperation in his voice. "No can do. Stopping now would be suicide."
"And leaving Albel behind would be a better option?" said Nel, indignant and disapproving.
"Well, what else can we do?!"
"You could carry him, Cliff," Mirage teased with a smile. The Klausian in question pretended to consider her suggestion and prodded Albel's prone body with a foot.
"Nope, not carrying it." Then, inspiration struck and he turned to waggle his eyebrows at a suddenly very nervous and suspicious Fayt. "Yo, kid, your rival's down! How about I give you a little something called 'leverage'?"
And that was how Fayt got stuck supporting one very unamused Albel, his good arm slung over Fayt's shoulder, as they brought up the rear with clumsy, heavy-footed steps. Initially, Fayt expected things to go down a little more dramatically between them; after all, it was Albel. The man had a lot of pride and a million issues, but he was surprisingly silent and didn't so much as protest their newfound, albeit undesirable partnership of sorts. God forbid, Albel the Wicked was actually being cooperative – and that scared Fayt a whole lot more.
Maybe he really isn't doing too good, he thought as he spared the silent swordsman a sideways glance. He didn't understand Albel one bit: one moment, the guy treated them worse than insects and acted like he didn't care about anything at all; the next, he goes out on a limb to equip them with anti-paralysis amulets and protect them from dragons by overextending himself. The man's mind was a convoluted maze of logic and emotions; it was hard to place one's trust in someone as inconceivable as that. But the more Fayt learned about Albel's past and watched him fight, the more he felt like he was beginning to understand the Glyphian's complicated character. The man was at war with himself and that confusion manifested in his hatred for the world he lived in. He blamed everything for his losses and distrusted everyone, because he couldn't find the strength to blame and trust himself for his own shortcomings and capacity for redemption. But even a blind man could see that Albel was slowly changing and in his own twisted, indirect way, he was trying to let others in – and Fayt finally realised, could finally accept and see clearly why a certain Menodix child with a propensity for mischief, yet possessing a heart so pure, was so important to Albel and his journey toward being someone better.
"You know," Fayt broke the silence. "Roger really cares about you. That's the fifth time he's turned to look our way."
Sure enough, the little scamp tried being discreet as he turned wide, concerned brown eyes at them, while he walked alongside Nel and the others up ahead. However, as soon as Fayt's knowing emerald stare found his own, he quickly looked away, embarrassed at being caught. It was hard for Fayt to resist a smile at his actions. True, 80% of that concern was directed at Albel's condition and the remaining 20% was the fear of both of them unintentionally (or intentionally) murdering each other, but it was still kind of sweet how much the boy truly cared about them – two people who showed him nothing but honest devotion and proved themselves worthy of his trust. Roger was too nice and sincere for his own good; then again, that's what made him so hopelessly endearing, despite his insistence on maintaining his manly bravado.
Albel scoffed beside him. "What are you trying to say, worm?" As if he didn't feel humiliated enough that he had to accept help from his eternal rival. Now, Leingod was patronizing him too. And if that alone didn't make his hackles rise, Fayt's subsequent chuckle did.
"Do you always have to be so serious?" The smirk on his face, however, indicated that the comment wasn't delivered out of spite, rather a genuine friendliness. "Also, you can rest your full weight on me, you know? That's kinda the whole point of being a physical support."
"Not going to happen. Now shut up and keep walking."
Fayt sighed. "Do you have a problem accepting help or something? Or just from me?"
The tense silence that followed his question was a long and stifling one. Albel's pace had slowed to a crawl and there was a hollow, faraway look in his eyes as he stared blankly at his feet. Fayt observed him intently, like he was studying a particularly challenging math problem and re-evaluating his approach.
"I realise… I was wrong about you."
There was a sudden stagger to Albel's steps. The vaguely suspicious raise of his eyebrows and judging vermillion eyes were enough to prompt Fayt to continue in his defense.
"What I'm trying to say is, I owe you an apology, Albel. I'm sorry for how hostile I've been and the things I said to you when we first began this journey. I let my fear and jealousy get the better of me, and I didn't make you feel welcome at all when all you've done was nothing but help us – well, in your own Albel-esque way. I guess." He quickly added as an after-thought in case Albel got the wrong idea and started yelling at him again, "And, uh, thanks for the amulets. It wasn't part of the deal, but you did it anyway. Although the others won't exactly come out and say it, I believe I speak for everyone when I say that we really couldn't have made it this far without you."
"Admitting to your faults now?" Albel let loose a grave, humorless chuckle, a nasty smirk on his lips. But, Fayt's words gave him pause and his smugness died down to be replaced with a thoughtful frown and polite discretion that surprised even himself. "... That's pretty noble of you."
Fayt blinked, uncertain and perturbed by the lack of antagonism on the man's part. He had been pretty sure he had inevitably opened himself up to Albel's biting criticism. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking. Either that, or Albel had officially lost it.
"Uh, thanks? Coming from a knight, that means a lot."
What he got was a loud, derisive snort for his troubles.
"Spare me your flattery, fool. I'm no knight. The Crimson Scourge chose me because I'm different from all my predecessors who had attempted to wield it…" The Glyphian's jaw clenched as he avoided Fayt's curious state. "I'm weak."
There was a pregnant pause. Albel mentally recoiled at his admission to weakness, horrified by the prospect of his rival gaining some form of leverage against him, cursed his loose tongue. But Fayt never judged him; and the look across his face was not pity, rather a respectful moment of deliberation and kind understanding.
"Actually, I don't think so," the blue haired swordsman concluded. "Admitting your faults and weaknesses takes a lot of guts, and it takes even more guts to embrace them." There was a thoughtful frown on his face and he seemed to be staring at something in the distant shadows that only he could see. "From what I understand about your planet's lore, there are three sacred treasures that bless and protect the kingdoms – two of which appear to have some sort of sentient life. I don't think anyone told the Crimson Scourge to choose you. If anything, you proved your worth by simply being – well, you. Besides, wielding a sword isn't about power; it's to protect those behind the blade. I think," and at this, Fayt nodded his head in affirmation, "to command such great power, one must have the humility to show for it."
Albel actually stopped to stare at the younger man, really looked at him; wide-eyed, slack-jawed and all. It wasn't the audacity or confidence of Fayt's speech that had shocked him; instead, he found himself seeing reason with his uncharacteristic insight and terrifying perceptivity. Humility, huh? Perhaps Leingod had a point. He'd never thought about it like that before, and suddenly it made so much more sense than that crap Woltar threw at him back at Kirlsa.
"Humph, you mean like my father–"
"No, not like your father," Fayt interrupted with an assertiveness which surprised the both of them. He flushed and coughed awkwardly. "Sorry… No offense Albel, but if your father really was so great, it would have stopped at him. No, to put it logically, I think the sword found someone better... Knew there was someone better."
The smirk that curled on the Glyphian's lips was a mocking one. "Is that praise I hear? Careful, or I might just hate you less."
Fayt's grimace complemented the biting sarcasm that followed. "Wow…What did I ever do to deserve such affection?"
"Don't push it, worm. You and I both know that I can still best you in a fight."
"I think I won that last fight."
"You had a handicap. I, on the other hand, don't need one."
"... I will drop you, you know."
The sneer on Albel's face was as devious as it was cocky. "You wouldn't. It's not in your nature."
The exasperated glare on Fayt's face withered from the absurdity of this conversation and the strain of his muscles supporting the other's weight. "Yeah, you're right," he sighed, as he continued to drag Albel's protesting, battleworn body across the sweltering cavern floor. As tempting and easy as it was to toss the grumbling swordsman into the nearest lava pit, Fayt knew he would never actually go through with it. It would upset Roger and the Menodix would probably never forgive him. Also, that would be murder. Oh yeah, and it wasn't in his 'nature'. Dammit, he hated it when Albel was right.
They continued their trek through the burning caves, past fire spirits and lava golems that took one look at the Nox descendant and knew better than to get in the party's way. Hot molten lava pooled and ran between the crusts under their boots, and the group of seven stomped down their anxiety of the encroaching confrontation like they did with the bubbling, fiery inferno beneath the weight of their strides. At every turn, a monster would await them; and everytime, it would scramble away before anyone could fully draw their weapons. And so it continued, with Fayt and Albel walking (or limping) along to the sounds of crumbling rock, sudden and controlled explosions, and Cliff's angry yells. It was safe to assume that the Klausian was growing increasingly frustrated by his surroundings.
"For the sake of my growing impatience for all things imbecilic, that maggot better not cause a cave-in," Albel grumbled, but the threat felt empty from his position and only succeeded in making him sound like a disgruntled old man. Despite that, Fayt found it in this precarious situation to laugh, and Albel's eyes bulged for the second time that hour, as he regarded the swordsman from the stars with a look that screamed immeasurable doubt.
"Clearly, you are unwell."
"Nah," Fay paused to adjust Albel's weight on his side. "I'm just thinking about this whole situation we're in. I mean, I'm far from my home planet, got separated from my family and best friend, my dad's been captured by the same guys who attacked us, I find out I'm some sort of genetically enhanced superweapon and for most people, their lives are as good as over… but I have you guys." His expression softened, as he took in the sight of Cliff, Roger and Mirage working together to clear a path of volcanic rock up front, while Nel and Maria picked off some stray monsters lurking by the sidelines. "The situation isn't exactly ideal, but it's not horrible either. Trust me, it really could be a thousand times worse."
"And this isn't it?"
He rolled his eyes at the Glyphian's cynicism. "What I'm trying to say is, if I were to crash land with a bunch of strangers on an unknown planet clear across the galaxy with all sorts of things trying to kill me, I would rather it be with this bunch right here."
"You're part of this traveling circus too, worm," Albel reminded him with a particularly loud scoff.
Fayt shrugged, "Hey, at least it's entertaining."
"This doesn't change anything between us, maggot."
The honest smile he received in return both surprised and grated on his already frayed nerves.
"And this is the longest conversation we ever had."
Albel snapped his mouth shut and avoided the other's knowing gaze, mulled over his words. Bah, nothing but sentimental garbage. But there was honesty in those emerald eyes and Leingod's speech held a deep conviction and gratitude, rather than blind faith and optimism. It was the words of a man who had his ego and preconceived notions stripped, beaten down and built up again into something brave, worldly and wise. It was the voice of someone who had experienced failure, loss, the devastation of war, backed into a corner and forced to make a choice; and then, had to live with the consequences. It was the spirit of a man who fought hard for others, because he believed they were worth the life they were given, and never gave up in the face of hopelessness and defeat. Stubborn or steadfast, he couldn't say; but it was then when Albel realised he had been wrong about Fayt too.
"Humph, I believe I understand now why that little fool loves you so much."
The swordsmaster's comment had an unintended effect on his target: Fayt crimsoned and stopped so abruptly, Albel almost lost his balance and fell face first in the hardened ash. He made sure he gave the Earthling a good earful of choice expletives and scathing insults for that, but the latter was too busy freaking out.
"H-Huh? Love?! But I– He– We…Nobody said–"
Fayt's face grew hotter. Albel rolled his eyes so hard he saw the back of his skull. Apris was testing him.
"Do not insult me, worm. I will not accept losing to someone with your idiocy."
At Fayt's blatant confusion, he sighed and made to explain himself, albeit reluctantly. The fact that he had to literally spell it out for the clueless boy, hurt his brain and pride far more than he had anticipated. It was significantly less humiliating if he didn't admit to himself that he was giving up the Menodix for this.
"Listen well, for I will not repeat myself. The little fool loves you and only you; he values you more than his own happiness." Albel clenched his jaw so hard, it trembled, as if what he was about to admit pained him to no end and violated his principles on so many levels. "You have my – and at this, he grimaced – validation… and I concede. So don't screw this up, worm, because if you do, you can be sure that I'll be there to pick up the pieces conceived by your own imprudence."
Wait, does that mean…? Although that last part was conveyed as an obvious threat, Fayt couldn't stop the wide, stupid grin that stretched from ear to ear. It wasn't so much the relief of his rival willingly taking a step back from the object of his affections, but the knowledge that Roger loved him in return. True, they had claimed they liked each other, kissed and indulged in other passionate activities; but this was different. Hearing it from another's mouth made the truth a little more real. This was Roger loving him despite the betrayal, despite the chain of chaos and destruction that followed him like a shadow, despite the heartbreak and the uncertainty of an obscure future. This was Roger loving him when he thought Maria and him had fallen in love, and allowed it. This was Roger loving him so faithfully, so painfully, simply because he did.
"But how do I make it up to him?" Fayt muttered sadly, finally understanding the weight of the Menodix's sacrifice up till now. "How do I right my mistakes?"
Albel released a weary sigh. "Fool, it is only human to make mistakes, more so when your heart is involved."
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
A deliberate hum; and then, response.
"Are you familiar with that strange prickle that seizes you when you gaze upon the one who holds your affections?"
Fayt nodded and looked at the Glyphian expectantly.
"That's common sense leaving your body."
He really did drop Albel this time.
-0-0-0-
An earth-shattering explosion, and another wall crumbled into pieces before the wrath of one Cliff Fittir. The Klausian was seething; perspiration matted his brow and made his blonde bangs stick to his forehead and sides of his face in haphazard patterns. His normally dark eyes appeared almost red from the heat of the fire surrounding him. Fucking heat… dumb dragon… stupid shortcut – WHY WERE THERE SO MANY ROCKS?
"If I see one more stupid obstacle in my way, I swear I'll–!"
He turned a narrow corner and came face to face with a towering wall of lava.
"OH, COME ON!"
The girls shot the mortified blonde three identical teasing smirks. "You were saying, Cliff?"
As said man simmered in silence, Roger stepped up to the stream of lava and gave the air a tentative sniff. A look of shock and then apprehension crossed his face, before he slowly turned to address the others.
"Hey, guys? There's something big… and powerful on the other side. I-I think – his ears flattened nervously against his skull – I think we're here."
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the group. It seemed that none of them were actually prepared to face up to their mission objective this soon. Well, not that soon, exactly… but they had been too preoccupied with destroying obstacles, scaring away hoards of dragons and demonic spirits, avoiding unexpected lava eruptions, and listening to a certain Klausian's complaints and violent demonstrations against Mother Nature to actually formulate and decide on any sort of plan. Not to mention, their one and only dragon heir had almost killed himself from exhaustion on their way over. Either way, not a strong start to an increasingly untoward negotiation.
"So it would seem," Maria considered the new obstacle with a critical eye, hand on hip and lips pursed in a frown. She then took out her quad scanner and inhaled sharply at the frantic readings on screen. "I'm getting something similar to the Sacred Orb, though not to that alarming degree. Its source is no doubt sentient and beyond anything our technology can explain. This lava, or whatever's causing it… it isn't natural. In fact - she swept her gaze around the broiling cavern - this whole place isn't."
"It's magic," Nel interrupted, calmly observing the trailing rivulets of fire that sank beneath the ground, ran between cracks and under their feet; the heat too sweltering and real to not burn their skin off from such close proximity. "An ancient one, which inspired the origins of runology. It's no illusion, but the right counterspell should do the trick."
"Nel," came Fayt's calm and determined voice; and that was all the Aquarian needed to hear to realise that they were on the same page. She knew that tone: Fayt figured out something… and he needed her support. Weeks of journeying together and bouncing off each other's differences, strengths and weaknesses, did that.
A curt nod. "Understood."
They stood side by side, focused their gaze on the never-ending flow of lava; and then, Fayt thrust his hand out, while Nel assumed the right stance. A blue light gathered in the center of Fayt's open palm, swirled around his hand, pulsed with power, while intricate ruins danced around Nel's person. A sudden chill engulfed the air from the combination of their power, before they released it in one icy blast.
"Deep freeze! / Ice daggers!"
The attack struck the fiery surface, merciless. With a resounding crack, ice spread and consumed the entire waterfall of lava, encasing it in one solid crystal block. Nel and Fayt stepped back to scrutinize the entire structure for faults; that seemed to do the trick; but almost immediately, cracks began to form on the hardened surface, spanning rapidly like spider tendrils. Steam leaked from the spaces between, before the ice blocks fell away like an avalanche and hot, boiling lava gushed forth once more. Twin frowns of exasperation marred Nel and Fayt's faces. Well, that didn't work.
"I'm not putting my fist through that," said Cliff, before turning to the others. "What now?"
"Hey, lemme try summin'!"
Roger pushed past Nel before she could grab him and with a deep breath, shut his eyes and composed himself. Slowly, he raised his arms towards the fiery barrier and closed his fingers into fists. A soft, warm aura wrapped around the humanoid's small form, gradually spreading from his chest, outward to gather at his hands. The appendages glowed a vibrant red. Roger felt the thrum of the familiar energy of his people and exhaled - long, slow and even.
Alright, Roger, just like with your weapons.
He allowed his power to flow from the self to its target. Immediately, the entire lava wall glowed with his energy the moment he opened his eyes. With careful, deliberate movements, Roger pulled his fists apart laboriously, like he was prying apart solid steel instead of air, and the burning red sea parted like a curtain. The group watched, mesmerized; even Cliff had nothing snarky to say, while Nel's eyes shone in recognition. Of course... How could she have forgotten? Roger was an elemental just like his father and the other ministers of the Sanmite's Republic. While Aznor commanded the trees, Roger embodied fire, his forte the unpredictable, scorching whirl of the blaze.
Unfortunately, his power was still in its infancy; untrained, inexperienced - and predictably, the curtain collapsed, the hot lava nearly splashing the Menodix in the face. It glowed a brighter, more terrifying red, as if angered by the child's vain attempts to bend it to his will. And then, a vengeful, thunderous roar shook the caverns; lose stones and sediment fell from the ceiling and crashed into dirt; the earth raged, and Roger jerked back with a startled yelp, hissing through clenched teeth at the pain that shot through his nerves like a dozen blistering needles. His hands shook as if he had been burnt.
"Roger!"
Fayt was by his side in an instant. Quickly, the swordsman took his lover's hands in his and channeled his ice symbology through his palms to relieve the pain. The Menodix sighed in relief as the soothing cold washed over him. That… that was unprecedented.
"Tuh-Thanks…"
Fayt kissed his hands tenderly. "Even magic doesn't work, huh?"
"I don't geddit though," Roger pouted, brows knitted in confusion. "I got burned by my own element – that doesn't even make sense!"
"You maggots are pissing him off."
The sharp slide of metal against metal cut through the stifling air, as Albel Nox swiftly unsheathed his katana. Light from the surrounding flames gleamed off the polished, deadly surface that had severed the lives of a thousand souls; and as the ex-captain of the Black Brigade strode upfront in calm, measured steps, face bathed in shadows, save for a pair of glowing vermilion eyes, Albel the Wicked actually looked the picture of death and the very devil deserving of his name. The group stepped aside to let him pass, each one unnerved by the Glyphian's unexpected intervention, wondered about the implication of his cryptic words and his choice to break silence, worried about the obvious limp in his step that betrayed the fierce determination on his face.
"Albel, wait!"
With a final kiss to his knuckles, Fayt allowed Roger to pull away from him and the humanoid scrambled towards the man, who had proclaimed himself his knight. Yes, the conviction was there. Yes, he could sense Albel's wrath, scorn and irritation through their bond. But he could also feel an emotion nestled deep within the man's soul that didn't and would never show itself upon his face: fear.
"It's ok. Ya don't hafta–"
A hand tipped his helmet in a gesture that could only be interpreted as tender. Albel's eyes were unreadable, but the smirk on his lips was small and regretful. And what made it sadder, was the knowledge of the man's past, of having lived through that shared pain and knowing what that bitter smile meant.
"It is my birthright."
And then, quicker than the eye could blink, Albel raised his katana and slashed deep across his stomach. Blood spurted from the wound and splashed against the lava barrier, mingled with the flames, flowed from his blade and dyed the earth a deep crimson. The others gasped from the disturbing display and Nel moved forward on instinct, ready to heal her colleague, but a dangerous growl and an outstretched claw stopped her in her tracks.
"Zelpher, don't." Albel shakily lowered his arm to press his claw against the deep gash in a pathetic attempt to stem the blood flow. Crimson life oozed between the talons and dribbled down his skin. "The first trial: Sacrifice," he explained between gasps and wheezes. "The blood of a Nox, willingly drawn by his own hand."
As if by magic, the unbearable, sweltering heat around them disappeared: molten lava faded into volcanic ash; steam turned into vapor that left the cavern in quiet hisses; fire spirits and monsters slunk away; a draft blew in from an unknown location; shadows replaced the light of flames and left the once chaotic and raging underground unsettlingly empty, dark and cold. Fayt, Roger, Maria, Mirage, Nel and Cliff looked around in utter bewilderment. It was like their past hour here hadn't even happened - and now, in the very spot where the lava barrier had once been, stood a towering, ancient stone door with the head of a massive dragon carved out from it. The sculpted creature was proud, regal and withstood the test of time, beheld a reverence that went unquestioned for centuries. Underneath the snout chiseled with straight lines into the cold, grey surface, a parted jaw showed sharp teeth arranged in a vicious, terrifying snarl. The stone dragon loomed over them, its ruby gemstone eyes sharp and dangerous, critical, frowning down, disapproving. It haunted this space and all who beheld it with a purpose unfulfilled.
To succeed is to bond with my spirit; my power will be yours. To fail is to die.
Albel grimaced from the pain, the wound cut deep and unforgiving like Crosell's words; but his pride wouldn't let him appear weak before the Marquis' scrutiny, so he forced himself upright. He didn't need to look to know that Leingod's worry-filled eyes were upon him.
"Like I said, worm: you need a handicap… I don't."
The stone door swung open to reveal a dark corridor beyond, its walls lined with massive torches that stood taller than an average human and burned with the fires of an ancient magic. A low rumble resounded from within the darkness, calling to the brave, the foolish, the damned. The scorned knight's bloodied claw fell from his wound and Albel forced himself to walk towards his fate for a second time with his head held high.
"The second trial: Blood. The life of a noble, willingly forsaken for the promise of death and rebirth."
The others followed silently after him, anxious on what awaited them beyond.
To be continued...
Author's note:
I promise Crosell will make an appearance in the next chapter and I won't procrastinate anymore (though he sort of appeared in statue form at the end of this chapter as a head, so that counts for something). I wanted to include his and Albel's confrontation in this chapter, but it became too long, so I decided to just save it for the next one. Anyway, yay for more Elicoor lore! I'm really having fun with expanding this universe and its characters... and now that I've started playing SO3 Remastered on the PS4, I've been particularly inspired.
Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and I'll see you in the next update!