This previously 32-page monster of a chapter has been mercifully split in half because I love you. Yes, you. …No, not you—the pretty one.
The second half is coming soon.
Chapter Seventeen: Child of Calamity—Year Two, Phase 01
My friend, do you fly away now,
To a world that abhors you and I?
All that awaits you is a somber morrow,
No matter where the winds may blow.
My friend, your desire
Is the bringer of life, the gift of the goddess.
Even if the morrow is barren of promises,
Nothing shall forestall my return.
—From Act III of the epic poem, Loveless
By an author obscured by the passage of time
The city square of Radiant Garden; midday of February the third…
Mere instants after the bottle of liquid flame exploded against his mechanical forearm, he hastily shot his other arm to the bionic's latches and bolts and tore the burning limb from his flesh in one gruesome pull. A kerosene fire couldn't so easily be stamped or blotted out. The pain was undeniable, but he clenched his teeth so his agonized yell became an elongated, searing groan. In the next second, he hurled the flaming appendage toward the one who cast the burning bottle, potentially killing her with the impact alone.
A wayward body stumbled into Aeleus, throwing the bleeding and once-again one-armed soldier off balance. He fought to regain his footing, but the battle was becoming most concentrated here. A spiked chain whipped the back of his head, and balance became a lost luxury.
His face struck the ground in the next instant, the back of his skull deeply lacerated by the barbed weapon's impact, and his perception of reality fractured upon contact with the cobblestone street. He slowly, shakily peered up as much as he was able, and as his vision cleared to the best of its impaired capacity, he found that the one who struck him with the deathly weapon was Ienzo.
The boy appeared delirious, panic-stricken from the barbarity of his surroundings, and a notable web-like gash had opened on the right side of his temple, the bloody network of fissures spreading just under his eye and over his cheekbone. He was shaking, somewhere between furious and terrified, and Aeleus in his concussed cognizance could only surmise that the boy had taken the spiked chain from a felled rioter and lashed out at anyone near him in a desperate attempt to defend himself.
He reconsidered that motivation when the incensed child raised the macabre whip overhead and prepared to strike once more.
The war-hardened knight-captain didn't know terror until he realized he was now at the mercy of this child who had the intention and the means to kill him where he lay. An inglorious end to an illustrious career…
Or so it would have been.
A soldier's body was thrown against Ienzo in the fray, forcing the boy to stumble back and lose his hold on the weapon. Soon, other bodies were racked against him, and the vengeful prince found that not only was it impossible to reach Aeleus now, but his chances of escaping the mob alive were rapidly diminishing. In the panic of the moment, he drew his knife—the very same that he used to slay the Soldier Heartless and with which he nearly put Naomi out of her misery—and stabbed and slashed away at the sea of bodies tormenting him as he pressed further and further towards the barricaded palace doors.
Aeleus repressed an agonized howl and tried—and failed—to return to his feet amid the chaos. He kept his eyes on Ienzo for as long as he was able, still incredulous that the boy, one of the three royal members of the family he was once sworn to defend, had attempted to murder him. It was as though the last two years of servitude meant nothing to that guttersnipe.
No. Not nothing—the horror of epiphany dawned on Aeleus—I know exactly why he despises me.
He reached his left stump of an arm for vanishing Ienzo…
…only for his bionic limb to malfunction, and the boy clattered to the stone floor with the statue shattering beside him. They were back at the palace's arboretum during an attempt on their lives, six months ago.
Aeleus stood stupefied at his failure, knowing that it was only by sheer luck that Ienzo survived. His mechanical arm, the intended conductor for his geomancy to catch the statue before it fell, had failed him, and one of the lives he was sworn to defend nearly ended because of it.
He temporarily forced his attention away from this contemplation and redirected his gaze towards that strange, shadowy mass of a man that nearly killed the ducal prince. In time, he would learn that this was a Neoshadow, and it was only the first of an endless wave of Heartless monstrosities come to destroy the world.
The browning leaves of August fell ever so frailly around them. The dusky humanoid caught the knight-captain off-guard by suddenly flattening itself into the ground and rushing far around him, seemingly intent on murdering Ienzo for whatever reason. The geomancer's shock was quickly brushed off and he used his functional, organic arm to will the stone and soil that the Neoshadow dashed through to be thrust into the air, cutting off the assailant's earthen route and utterly confounding a creature so accustomed to traveling as one with the surface. The sable beast scrabbled to regain itself as part of the levitated earth until it fully dislodged from its sanctuary-turned-prison and fell back to the ground with the surrounding autumn leaves. Its pointed foot was milliseconds from touching the tiled floor when Aeleus commanded the raised earth to come rushing back down, obliterating the Neoshadow in the blast of debris until only a crater and a black stain remained. The creature was too dangerous, too unpredictable to take alive.
He finally allowed himself to catch his breath and returned his focus to the prince he failed. Evelyn was already at her brother's side and helping him back to his feet, worriedly checking him over for signs of injury and relieved to find none.
Even, meanwhile, stood further back, appearing amazed at everything transpired. "What on Earth was that thing?" the scientist rasped.
Aeleus had no answer. No one on this world could be expected to. Instead, he ordered the family, "We need to put the castle on lockdown. It's not safe out here, not until we're certain there weren't any more of…whatever that was."
And so they did. Even spoke with Ansem the Wise in his heavily-guarded safe-room, telling him all about the shadowy assassin that literally merged with the earth. Aeleus questioned to himself how a room of steel and concrete and state-of-the-art locking mechanisms could protect them from monsters that could so easily flatten themselves to slip under the door. But it was the best they had. The geomancer silently despaired at this as he stood off to the side with Ienzo and Evelyn, self-conscious of how his mechanical arm failed in the line of duty. He stuffed it in his trouser pocket in an effort to disguise his shame as casual idleness. Evelyn wasn't so easily fooled.
"It's been a while since that happened, huh?" she ventured.
He didn't answer, but only looked away. In the six months the geomancer knew her, he never grew fully accustomed to Evelyn's sympathy. He hadn't expected one so much younger and frailer than he to also have a bionic arm, let alone have an entire year's worth of experience with the technology ahead of him. He'd faced unavoidable humiliation in discovering he would often need technical advice and assistance from her if he was to learn to live with this new part of him. Now, several months after the last incident, that humiliation had lessened, but was still there.
She'd grown so much stronger since her forced marriage to Even. Others might have broken, but she'd adapted.
Evelyn sighed and approached him. "Let's get this taken care of. No sense in putting it off."
Aeleus grunted and, after a moment's consideration, removed his glove and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the black and copper-plated limb to one more experienced than he. Evelyn produced the proper tools to remove the arm's plating and gently yet deftly went to work. She always carried a small mechanic's pouch at her waist, hidden by the folds of her gowns, ever since acquiring her own bionic limb. She had become a master of maintaining it in the last year-and-a-half.
Ienzo stood back and watched with only mild interest.
It only took half a minute of her careful scrutiny before she proclaimed, "There's the rub." She directed Aeleus' attention to the metal limb in her healer's grip, "When was the last time you tightened the micro-cylinders?"
The geomancer glanced away. "It's…been a while. Recent events haven't afforded me much time for a thorough maintenance."
She smiled at him almost pityingly. Only she was allowed to do that. "Well, if the rumors are true and we are nearing the end of this war, then it shouldn't be long before you have some reasonable support in your duties. I hear Lieutenant Dilan is being considered as a castle guard."
Dilan…
There was a name Aeleus hadn't heard since he was assigned this position—the night he lost his arm. In the past eighteen months, he'd never once wondered what had become of the brave lieutenant who stayed by his side and defended him from the Red Dragon during the Battle of Altair. It was said that those who shed blood on the battlefield together were guaranteed to be the closest of friends for life, but Aeleus had little regard for life. He'd seen far too many allies and loved ones come and pass and had since decided that it was better to cut off all sentimental ties to people and objects. And yet, he only now realized that Dilan was different. Dilan had placed Aeleus' life above his own, and the gesture was proven mutual on that bloody day. Dilan was loyal—a true friend if only Aeleus would allow him—and better yet, he was durable. Everyone Aeleus ever knew had either perished or vanished, but Dilan remained. If nothing else, he would be a dependable ally.
The knight-captain exhaled through his nose before commenting reservedly, "Lieutenant Dilan is a stalwart warrior and an honorable man. Lord Ansem would only benefit having him on this castle's security detail."
She smiled softly and called back to her brother, "Do you hear, Ienzo? We're going to have more protection soon. If any more shadow-monsters appear, they won't know what hit them."
It was like a nightmare…
The monster latched onto and clawed at the otherworldly glider, and it was only by a concentrated surge of lightning from the driver's armored gauntlet that the shadow-corrupted super soldier released its grip and plummeted back to the forest floor. But others still pursued Aqua and Dilan on the Keyblade glider, many leaping incredible heights and nearly reaching them, and the nightmarishly powerful new breed of Heartless kicked up the super soldiers' signature dust-storms with their unnatural speed.
Two additional armored Keybearers—Terra and Vanitas—intercepted the clamoring Heartless when they leapt too near, just barely blasting them away from upon their gliders. Of all the shadowed monstrosities Xehanort's disciples battled across the worlds, these darkness-corrupted Calamity Soldiers were by far their greatest challenge. Retreat was their only option.
Dilan looked back at the pursuing carnage, his heart and stomach twisting in despair. To think that Even's experiments would turn against us…that they would be so easily controlled by those…"Heartless!"
He had seen the treasonous monstrosities mercilessly eviscerate their own, human allies with sickeningly little effort and nearly kill him in the process. It was nothing short of a nightmare come to life. …Is this the terror the Palamecians felt whenever they faced these unnatural soldiers?
Aqua felt the battle-ravaged lieutenant trembling against her on the glider. His tattered uniform fluttered in the wind, his open wounds smeared blood against her side. She tried calming him, "Hey, we're almost out. Just look ahead and leave the rest to us."
The dreadlocked knight obeyed, but the fear swallowing him wouldn't relent.
"What's your name?" she asked. Anything to take his mind away from this awful place.
He stuttered a moment, then answered, "Dilan."
"I'm Aqua," she replied. "Just hold on there, Dilan. We're almost home-free." Her Keyblade glider streaked over the treetops, and the sounds of bedlam were gradually diminishing. They really were out-running the Heartless super soldiers, but she could tell by the aeromancer's breath and rigidity that he was hardly at ease. She tried soothing him again, "Do you have a family, Dilan? Any loved ones?"
None. They had all perished long ago…become one with the sky. This accursed war had taken them all away from him. What few friends he'd made had died either in previous campaigns or in the bloodbath he was now escaping from. No one remained.
No one but Aeleus, the valiant knight-captain who nearly sacrificed himself to save him from the Red Dragon eighteen months ago—a memory that Dilan couldn't escape. If there was a true friend somewhere in this world that Dilan could make, it would be Aeleus. His only hope of any sort of companionship now resided in a friendship that had yet to be kindled and possibly never would. The geomancer's hard heart was guarded by a stone wall that none could enter. Dilan knew his chances were nonexistent, and a new wave of misery washed over him as he answered Aqua.
"No. There's no one."
They reached the castle at sunset. Three unknown armored figures on otherworldly flying vehicles with a cadaverous knight-lieutenant—the only survivor of his platoon—landing just before the citadel's gates when the whole fortress was on lockdown from an attack by a growing horde of shadow-monsters was hardly a reassuring sight to the guardsmen fighting tooth-and-nail against their Heartless assailants. By their expressions, it seemed as though the sentinels mistook the Keybearers for additional enemies. Terra and Vanitas summoning their Keyblades and plummeting into the fray to eviscerate the Neoshadows in a handful of methodically chaotic seconds was enough to change the guards' minds.
The sentinels stood bewildered at this masterful display of power, unsure of how to handle the new development.
Terra's helmet retracted, granting the guardsmen a human visage to their previously faceless savior. He spoke to them in an even, authoritative voice, "Your kingdom is in danger, and things are about to get much, much worse. If you want to survive, take us to your leader." For a man who never considered himself a space alien until his encounter with the Darlings six months from then, his word-choice couldn't have been more ironic.
The guards remained as they were, uncertain of how much faith to put into a strange new player who might've harbored ulterior motives. It wasn't until Aqua's glider descended enough for Dilan to call within earshot, "Let us in, soldiers! Our kingdom will be ashes by nightfall unless we listen to them!"
The war-hero's word was enough for them. In minutes, the Keybearers and the wounded lieutenant had passed through the monolithic doors, sped through the castle's halls, and were granted entry into Lord Ansem's safe-room. There, they divulged all that they felt the sage-king needed to know. The existence of other worlds and those who traversed them was kept secret for now, but not a detail was spared in naming the Heartless and explaining how they'd turned the kingdom's own Calamity Soldiers against them. The Keybearers confessed, when they rescued Dilan, that the three of them only barely felled a handful of the monsters, and even then, they couldn't be certain if those they'd bested were truly slain. This was a new breed of Heartless beyond their power to combat in such large numbers.
Ansem turned to his scientist, "Even, can't we simply deactivate the brutes as we've done in the past?"
Even faced Dilan, "You spoke the trigger-word to them?"
The lancer nodded. "I have. Nothing works. They're so drenched in darkness it's impossible to reach them."
Aqua suggested what the others had no doubt considered but hadn't the gall to propose, "Then we have only one option left: evacuation."
Ansem was quick to rejoin, "No. Not our only option." He faced Even again, ready to divulge to the kingdom that most esoteric of secrets that only a grave few in his cabinet had any knowledge of. "Even, I believe it's time."
The scientist's eyes slowly widened in horror. "Sir, consider what—"
"I have considered it all, Even. We've been over the long-term environmental risks, the moral outrage that will divide our nation—but if there was ever a crisis that deserved our most extreme contingencies, this is it."
A heavy silence oppressed the air. At length, Even resigned and answered the question weighing on everyone's hearts. "The super-soldiers weren't the only creations I made from the remnants of Calamity…"
Nobody knew how much time had passed since the decision was made, but it couldn't have been long before resolve turned to action. All those once present in the safe-room—Ansem, Even, Aeleus, Dilan, Terra, Aqua, Vanitas, Ienzo, Evelyn, other bodyguards and high-ranking personnel, and even Braig and Xehanort (who could say where they'd previously been?)—now stood on the palace roof, many watching with dread in their hearts as the regime's formerly best-kept secret, the Calamity Missile, was fired over the sunset sky on a cataclysmic trajectory for the borderlands that the Heartless super-soldiers still traversed. They didn't have the means to send the missile all the way to the Palamecian capitol, else they would have at least considered it long ago.
Ansem did his best to hold back the anguish the choice had wrought, but the stoicism was only half-successful.
There was some remorse plaguing Even, but none could know exactly why.
The regret of Terra and Aqua was transparent. They wished they could have done more to save this land and prevent this from happening.
Vanitas' obsidian visor was as impenetrable as ever.
Aeleus kept his eyes on the missile with a clear, silent sickness rising in him.
Dilan watched with helpless incredulity.
The ducal orphans, Evelyn and Ienzo, suffered the resurgence of an inner devastation they'd attempted for so long to move past. This "C-bomb" was made of the same destructive material as the meteor that destroyed their lives a year and a half ago and even emanated that same emerald sheen. The siblings held each other's hands for support, each terrified of breaking down before the other at any moment.
Braig's malignant leer left no mystery as to his stance on the matter.
Xehanort allowed a light, ambiguous smile for the death-bringing spectacle.
The people of Radiant Garden watched with unbridled horror at the unannounced flight of this warhead that so eerily revived their past collective traumas from that fateful night eighteen months ago.
The missile neared the apex of its arc in the sky.
Ienzo choked back what would've been a flood of tears, his knees trembled, and Evelyn grasped his hand so tightly. He felt her weakness too. They were each other's dwindling strength.
The Heartless super-soldiers halted their terrible stampede across the borderlands in wonder and awe of this new projectile that corrupted the sky.
The missile fell.
The city trembled.
The Heartless awed.
The siblings faced their nightmare.
Only seconds until impact, and then—
A flash, a sound, a tremor, and then the once-lush borderlands, so full of life, were henceforth a barren graveyard. In time, other invading Heartless would settle in this husk of land defined by desolate canyons and the petrified, statuesque corpses of the super-soldiers that time left standing and contorted as they were the moment the bomb's waves ended their lives. This was the area beyond Radiant Garden's forests and where the Heartless would one day build their Emblem Factory. The semi-preserved corpses of the Calamity Soldiers were instrumental in their industrialization.
A month passed.
There was an abundance of moral outcry and panic, just as the sage-king had predicted. He tried to convince them their recreation of the meteor's destruction was a necessary evil to save their kingdom from total annihilation. With the increase of Pureblood Heartless in the land, enough of the people came to accept this answer.
Xehanort and his disciples quickly learned that Heartless presence on this world was abnormally high and the Keyhole was nowhere to be found. They had already been on the world a week before rescuing Dilan from the Calamity Soldiers, and with the additional month spent battling Heartless and searching for the Keyhole, Radiant Garden became their unofficial new home. But there were still other worlds to be saved, and so the Keybearers often worked in shifts to manage who would guard this world and who would save the others. When the kingdom finally raised a strong enough military in the months to come, the Keybearers allowed all four of themselves to travel off-world at a time.
The conflict between Radiant Garden and Palamecia became something of a proxy war. Only the Heartless could traverse the then-radioactive borderlands, and it was clear that Emperor Mateus Palamecia now commanded an army of them. Further inspection revealed that many of his own monsters and subjects had fallen victim to experimentation dedicated to creating new breeds of Heartless. And just as only the Heartless could cross the borderlands, the Keybearers were the most effective at combatting them. The Radiant Garden-Palamecian War was then mostly reliant on powers totally alien to their own world.
The Keybearers were hailed as heroes for their contributions to defending Radiant Garden, and within the month, Xehanort felt it was time to reveal the existence of other worlds and the schemes of Maleficent to the kingdom that had endured so much. From that September all the way to February, there were still many who never fully adjusted to the presence of other worlds. For most, doubt was replaced by ire when the Keybearers brought the first refugees near the end of October.
Ienzo poured the ladle of soup into the bowl of a refugee just under his age, and another to the girl's mother about Evelyn's age. It was incredible seeing what he and his sister's lives might've been had Even not taken them in. He knew better than nearly everyone to mistake his living situation as hospitality, but volunteering to provide relief for the refugees made him reconsider his dream of running away with Evelyn to live on the street.
Volunteering was all Evelyn's idea, and she stayed nearby, handing out water and other supplies to the tragically displaced. The left side of her face scarred by Calamity's flames though it was, she was received by those she helped as a vision of holy beauty. Aeleus kept a watchful eye on both of them, always alert for signs of danger. With two royals surrounded on all sides by desperate peasants, danger seemed an always imminent possibility to him.
There were other volunteers, of course, and other guards on-duty as well. Ansem, constantly busy with managing the war and deciding where to house the refugees, graciously accepted Evelyn's proposal to offer food and water to them. Even, busy with scientific affairs, allowed his wife to volunteer, but only for publicity's sake. But it didn't matter to Evelyn what her husband's reasoning was; she was only glad to volunteer and spend time with Ienzo.
Midmorning arrived.
They'd been at this for a few hours and only had so much energy left. Evelyn noted the weariness in her brother beside her.
"How are you holding up?" she asked.
He could only grumble in return. She couldn't blame him. Her arms were becoming heavy from work, her knees strained from all the standing, her back weak from maintaining the posture a lady of her position was expected to display. Yet Ienzo was the frailer of the two. What was tiring for her must have been pain for him.
Ienzo dipped the ladle back into the soup pot, his balance showing signs of wavering, and a mug of warm, mulled cider was set on the table within half an arm's reach of him. He looked up in tired surprise and found Terra standing over him. That was the first time he'd ever been so close to the larger-than-life out-world hero, and Ienzo was genuinely shocked to see warmth on the face of a man so much taller and astronomically stronger than him.
"A royal doing servants' work?" Terra jibed. "What is this world coming to?"
Aqua wasn't far. She was already offering a steaming mug to Evelyn, who was just as surprised as her brother. "M—messeres Terra and Aqua—" she stammered. "What brings you here?"
"It's our week off," Aqua answered.
Terra clarified, "Lately, us Keybearers have been fighting the war in shifts. One week, it's Aqua and I at the frontlines. Others, it's Master Xehanort and Vanitas."
"If all of us went at once, who'd take over when we get tired?" Aqua finished. "So, here we are: back in this place we're tempted more and more each day to call home." A brief pause, then: "You two seem spent. Terra and I can take this shift."
Evelyn stuttered a moment, then replied with a grateful curtsey with the mug of cider in one hand, "Thank you, heroes of Radiant Garden."
Ienzo knew his manners well enough to bow his head.
Charmed, the Keybearers bowed in reply. Terra rejoined, "It's our privilege, your highnesses."
Not long after, the brother and sister began their break drinking their mulled cider on a nearby bench. In-between sips, Ienzo caught his sister staring wistfully—or was it intently?—at the magnificent pair that came to their aid. Though only a child, Ienzo had learned enough by observation to know that Evelyn's position—her under-the-table war with her husband—prompted her to seek every source of power she could find. That often translated to winning the favor of important allies to protect and avenge their family when she desired it, just as she'd ordered Aeleus to so violently chastise Ienzo's former abusive tutor eight months ago. After being put on the spot from his wife's display, Even had no choice but to feign affection for his family and arrange some dental work for Ienzo to replace the teeth the tutor had stricken from him. It pained the boy to know how cynically his elder sister was forced to weigh a potential friendship with Terra and Aqua—two noble spirits that could surely become good friends with them regardless.
Ienzo did the merciful thing and gave her an innocent reason to pursue them.
"I like when they're around," he commented with a subdued hint of yearning in his voice.
He couldn't have known if Evelyn knew what he was trying to do for her, but she reacted more or less as he'd hoped. "I like them too, Ienzo. If they're not too busy, I'll see if we can meet them again before the week's over."
The boy smiled faintly. "I'd like that." He took another drink of his warm cider.
A brief silence, then the princess turned her gaze to him and noted, "You'll need a haircut soon."
The prince grimaced. He'd gotten used to having it long. "I like it this way."
"But if it grows any longer, you won't be able to see where you're going." she teased, lightly running a hand through his bangs. It wasn't a ruffle, but more so an elegant caress that only a princess could manage.
He groaned, but didn't fight it. Her hand lingered against his hair and forehead. How long had it been since they'd had time to themselves like this? How long since they had a chance to talk amid all the tumult they and the kingdom had known?
"I miss you," he confessed under his breath. I miss this, he wanted to add, referring to the unspoken intimacy they shared, but a boy his age could only bare so much of his heart before it became embarrassing.
Her breath momentarily stopped. It was so rare for him to communicate on an emotional level—so rare for him to be open with his feelings, no matter how small the gesture. She realized, then, that this was the closest they'd ever been. There was no fighting, no quarrels, no arguments turning into wrestling matches…there was only this longing to be in each other's company and prove that they still loved one another. In times as dark as these, sibling rivalry was a luxury they just couldn't afford.
The caress turned into a one-armed hug, catching him off-guard, and she answered, a ghost of a sob in her voice, "I've missed you too."
It took some moments for the confusion to settle, but at length, Ienzo let his heart rule him and he returned the hug, leaning into his loving guardian to complete the embrace. "I really wish I could've been there for you," he half-choked. "I wish I could've saved you from Even."
A sting in her heart, a tear brimming in her socket, and she did her best to remain strong and calm. "It's not your job to worry about me. It's mine to worry about you." She sounded so much like their parents then. The effect wasn't lost on Ienzo.
"You're not Mother and Father," he riposted, not unkindly, "so stop trying to be them."
She stayed strong. "I can't. Big sister rule: we have to be the parents when they're not around." She'd always followed that self-appointed rule, even when the duke and duchess were preoccupied for weeks on end with political matters and contributing to the war effort. "And besides, I've worked hard to give you the best life possible. If you want to do something for me, do this: live. Live as much as you are able. And then I'll be able to smile knowing I didn't give up my own life for nothing."
He could do more than that. He knew he could. He had to live for her. At some point, the hug ended and he spoke, "Hey, Eve?"
"Hm?" she asked, finishing a sip of her cider.
"I've been reading as much as I can. I'm even trying to find that book we fought over."
An adoring smile graced her scarred face. "Loveless?"
"Mm-hm."
"And what are you reading right now?"
"Ipsen and Colin."
Her face brightened. "I'm impressed. That's a pretty heavy read."
He flushed a little and averted his eyes. "I'm not that far. They're still at the tavern in Treno, after Ipsen got the letter. But—that's not…when does Even want you back?"
A little bit of the light in her faded. Thankfully, Even had to be more selective and clandestine about his nights with Evelyn ever since the Keybearers moved in. Ansem and the other dignitaries had always been overburdened managing the war and other state affairs, but when the Keybearers were off-duty, he had to be more cautious about what sounds he elicited from his wife. Even marriage had limits that, when passed, provoked suspicion of foul play. For this, Evelyn was grateful, but she was nowhere near entirely free. "He'll be working late, but the standard curfew is midnight. He claims it's for security purposes." They both knew the real reason. "Why do you ask?"
He was visibly reddening. "Well, our last night at home, we…you said…" He definitely had her interest. No amount of aristocratic refinement could hide the impish smirk on her face. He finally blurted out, "C—can you teach me how to dance? Tonight?"
Whatever mischief she'd planned to tease him with vanished right there. Her eyes subtly widened. Her breath stopped. Tears welled in her eyes, but never broke. "Ienzo…"
He rushed to justify his request, "I—I know what the rumors about us are and the nobles have always treated us like freaks because of our parents, but that doesn't matter right now! I've missed you, and—and I'm sorry I was so much trouble when all you wanted to do was prepare me for the future! S—so…can we?"
Silence.
His humiliation only worsened the longer it took his sister to respond. Clearly, she'd wrestled with those same rumors and the stigma of their blood. How much affection had their present society forbidden her from showing? Was she even still willing?
He turned away. "Forget I—"
Her delicate fingers cupped his chin then, and before he could react, her soft lips placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, and his heart skipped a beat. She then redirected his flustered gaze to meet her own. She really was beautiful despite the burn scars. She finally allowed those tears to fall, but from joy. "Foolish boy. It's been on the curriculum for years. You couldn't escape this if you wanted to."
Not far away, Aeleus kept a steadfast watch on the ducal children and the surrounding area. Their break had just begun, but his was far from over. It would never be over. As their personal knight, it was his duty to always guard them with no hope of leisure.
Imagine his surprise when a cup of mulled cider was offered to him from beyond his peripheral vision.
He turned, ashamed he hadn't heard the person's footsteps, and found Dilan as the one offering the drink.
"Hello, Captain," the aeromancer greeted him with a faint smile. Just as Aeleus' own, Dilan's hair had grown over the years, though considerably longer and partially tied in dreadlocks rather than his old ponytail.
"Dilan," Aeleus raised an eyebrow as he stoically accepted the cup. "Silent as ever. Good." But there was something else. The geomancer caught the newest glimmers on his former subordinate's lapels. "You've been promoted."
That light smile lingered, now almost reminiscent of bashfulness. "Yes sir. Yesterday afternoon, in fact. Though, I get the impression Lord Ansem only allowed it to fill some vacancies in the knight-captains' ranks. A publicity stunt, really."
Aeleus stared sidelong at him, his feelings on the matter ambiguous as usual. "Regardless, you now stand at my side as a fellow knight-captain. If you feel you're still unworthy, you'd better catch up soon." He took a drink of the cider, surprised at its sweetness.
"I know better than to let you down, sir," the dreadlocked knight answered, a hint of subtle regret in his voice, and he took a swill of his own drink.
Aeleus slowed as he finished his swig, eyes returning to Dilan with some newfound understanding of the impression he left on him. Not all of it was desired. He tried, as he was able, to ease his ally's tension. "I never thanked you for saving my life."
That caught Dilan's attention. "Sir?"
"The Battle of Altair," Aeleus clarified. "You talked me out of a suicide run and saved me from the Red Dragon's fire. For that, I thank you."
The aeromancer stood stupefied at the idol of his fear and respect's admission. At length, he sighed and returned this long overdue exchange of gratitude. "And I am eternally grateful to you for the sacrifice you made to protect me from that same dragon. Even now, the image of your body torn asunder by the stone and flame…"
"You're a good man, Dilan," the elder captain interjected. "Even back then, I knew you were a soldier worth saving." He gestured with his mug to the pins of his younger's recent promotion, "And it seems I was right."
A moment's disbelief, the requisite interval to dispel the shock, and sharp-voiced Dilan spoke softly with awe and humility, "Thank you…Aeleus."
There was no "You're welcome"—only an acknowledging grunt, and Aeleus returned his focus to the siblings.
Minutes passed in this peaceful silence between the two knights. None of it was awkward. There was an unstated rightness in these two warriors, both proven as elites on the battlefield, finally accepting their roles at each other's sides.
A pair of small children had begun crying some meters away in the center of the shuffling body of refugees. Their mother did what she could to soothe them, yet nothing stilled their wails.
Aeleus commented grimly, "There's going to be a lot more of that in the months to come."
Dilan grimaced. "I wish we could do something about it."
The geomancer sighed. "We can't save everyone, Dilan."
A flutter of remorse for the friends and allies lost to the Heartless Calamity Soldiers at the borderlands struck him as he absorbed his former superior's words. He looked ahead to the crying children and answered a soft "I know," and Aeleus knew just how thoroughly this survivor understood his counsel. He didn't question the younger man when he left to try anyways. He only sighed through his nose and waited, sullenly, for him to fail.
He made no effort to be stealthy when approaching the mother and her children as he did with Aeleus. His footsteps were heard and he called—not at all harshly—some feet before reaching them, "Is everything alright, ma'am?"
The mother had laid her arms over her weeping daughters' shoulders and seemed at a total loss for consoling them. She hesitated, "I…I'm sorry about this sir, but…there's not much anyone can do."
One of the toddlers bawled, "I—I want my daddy and baby brother back!"
The other added, "We—we miss them so much!"
Dilan tried to prepare himself for an answer like this, but no matter how many times the tragedy repeated itself, he could never become as jaded as he wished to be. Not when he had also lost so many…
His heart scored by empathy, he knelt on one knee to meet these ill-fated souls eye to eye. He prodded gently, "Was it the Heartless?"
The small girls nodded as they could, their eyes no dryer than before.
He looked to them, the girls and their mother, and genuinely replied, "I'm so sorry." He could have tried to comfort them with the knowledge that the Heartless couldn't hurt them here, but with two of the Keybearers already present, that much went without saying. He didn't want to insult their misfortune with banalities and he never planned on it. Instead, he added, "I've lost a lot of loved ones too."
One of the girls looked to him. "Heartless?" she queried.
A faint nod. "Some of them. We never saw it coming." He sighed. "Tell you the truth, I don't have many loved ones left. My family's gone, and all I have are the few friends that somehow lived this far."
The mother answered, "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. We've all lost too much because of them."
Dilan shifted, his mouth opened for a tentative second, then, to all three of them, "Do you want to know how I keep my friends' and family's memories alive?"
He had their attention. A daughter asked after clearing a sob, "How?" and she sniffled again.
He reached into a pouch on his belt, speaking as he did, "When I was your age and my father and two brothers passed away, I heard my uncle play a song on his ocarina." He produced the small wind instrument from his pouch. The girls saw the timeworn marks of wear and knew this must be the same ocarina the soldier's uncle played. "He played a song. It was sad, but beautiful at the same time. I asked him what this lovely music was. He told me it was an ancient melody that had been passed down our family for hundreds of generations. It had changed much over the years, but the spirit of it remained the same. It was a song played to honor those we love who've passed on."
The two toddlers cast glances of some silent amazement at the instrument, marveling behind tears how a song could have survived so many hundreds of thousands of years, let alone still hold the same power it always did. The mother's stare was not so much one of wonder, but of appreciation for what this kind stranger was doing for her daughters.
Dilan continued, "My uncle played this for so many funerals. In time, I played it at his. His and those of everyone else I loved…" He swallowed the remorse threatening to build in his throat. "But that's not the only time the song is performed. I play it whenever…whenever I miss them…when those sad feelings start to come back." He slowly raised the ocarina to his mouth. "It always helped."
His lips wetted, he pressed the age-old heirloom to his mouth, positioned his fingers as appropriate, and gently blew.
The song was somber but pleasant. It carried with it a bittersweet air of catharsis—a submission to and release of every heart-borne malady that threatened to take him. It was the purest essence of accepting one's sorrows and setting them free to the wind. For the girls rapt in his tender performance, the effect was exactly what they needed. They cried, the tears still fell, but there was no despair in them. They missed their father and baby brother dearly and always would, but now that pain had a beautiful outlet. Even the mother, weary from her burdens, appreciated the song of sorrow and solace.
Aeleus looked on in wonder, amazed what his former lesser had managed with a situation he had thought hopeless.
He wasn't the only one. The wind carried its melody to Evelyn's ears and she perked up a moment to search for the music's origin. Ienzo caught on soon enough and found Dilan first. "Eve, over there," he directed her, and the ducal siblings could scarcely believe the aeromancer had the talent. They found themselves charmed by the bittersweet melody soon enough, remembering their parents and their former life as they did.
The harmony fluttered gracefully throughout the area, gradually garnering new listeners among the refugees, the volunteers, and the soldiers acting as security, all remembering those loved and lost. At their positions at the volunteer's tables, Terra and Aqua caught wind of the music as well. Enrapt, they looked to each other soon enough and knew the other thought of Master Eraqus, lost to that enigmatic virus, and of runaway Ventus.
Not many eyes stayed dry during Dilan's impromptu performance. There was no despair—only cleansing remembrance.
Not even Aeleus was spared a pull at his heart. He'd fought so hard to repress and steel himself against every loss he ever endured, but now…
He tried to leave, wanted to more than anything…or so he failed to convince himself.
Braig sat atop a nearby tower, his duty to survey the area for any threats or signs of conflict and deal with them as needed. It had been an uneventful morning thus far, yet now his sniper's weapon afforded him the perfect view of the kneeling ocarina player performing for the once-irksome children and their mother. The irreverent sniper's was a hard heart to crack…yet even he afforded a wistful half-smile at the intended sentiment.
Even and Ansem the Wise had begun passing by a vast window in a hallway of the palace with other advisors and strategists when the wind granted the music enough momentum to reach their ears. It didn't take long for them to spot the source in the crowded courtyard below. For the first time in far too long, some in that entourage of cynical or otherwise jaded old men found reason to smile again.
Ansem looked upon the scene and affirmed to himself: This is why we fight. This is why ours is a world worth saving.
Even looked down on the spectacle and mused: Damned fools. Memories of the dead will not grant you the strength to survive. The Heartless are without mercy or regret. Your weakness is not theirs. This is why you'll all be destroyed.
He caught Ansem reaching for his heart at the corner of his eyes. Evelyn's husband nearly rolled his eyes until he caught, also, his lord's shortness of breath, his increased perspiration, his loss of balance…
The sage-king fell forward, alarming all in his presence. "My lord—!" they cried, but Even caught him just before his head could connect with the glass. After Ansem was steadied enough, he reached into his pocket, produced a slim case, clicked it open, and all saw the syringe and preloaded medication Even had prescribed to him. The doctor took the needle from his king's trembling hands and injected the serum into a carotid artery in the side of his neck. The elixir would work its magic soon enough, but all knew this was far from a permanent solution.
But even in the silent agony of his failing heart that the medicine mended to the best of its ability, Ansem found some morally restorative power in the aeromancer's song.
Dilan played his ocarina again that night when Evelyn taught Ienzo how to dance in the royal garden under the autumn moon.
He was learning the waltz—specifically, the beginner's box step.
She'd taught him the starting position, the six movements in the counterclockwise direction, and the etiquette that all dance leaders must know: to never pull or push the follower and to lead with his body rather than his arms, to navigate the dance floor responsibly so as to avoid colliding with other couples (when other couples were present), and to generally care for the follower's physical wellbeing.
Evelyn couldn't help but smile at her handiwork. She'd dreamed for years to make a desirable gentleman of her little brother, to ensure the young ladies of the courts and nobility would seek his hand in courtship and marriage. To finally break this curse of our bloodline…
Now it was time to apply what he'd learned to music. Even after all that practicing, Ienzo couldn't help but feel more than a little bit nervous when it was time for his final exam.
Evelyn nodded to Dilan. He smiled in return and brought the ocarina to his lips. He played a song that, even on such a modest wind instrument, compelled an air of tranquil eloquence and dignity.
The young dancers met before the vast fountain and pond of the palace's immaculate garden, architecture and statues hundreds of years old and the golden-crisp leaves of the mid-autumn night framing the scene. They bent forward respectfully, the princess curtsying and the prince bowing, and then they joined bodies. His left hand reached up to meet her bionic right, carefully clasping palm to palm and joining his right hip to her left in the promenade position. Then her left settled just below his right shoulder, and his right reached around for her left shoulder-blade. They adjusted their feet to be slightly offset, each just barely to the other's left, so their feet wouldn't collide. This was the starting position, a tad awkward though it was given that she had more than an entire head's worth of height over him.
They smiled at each other, she beaming with graceful pride from her scarred visage and he still flushing with the timidity of youth.
But now the music was picking up just enough to prompt the first movement.
Ienzo swallowed—Just as we practiced—and he stepped forward with his left foot as Evelyn stepped back with her right. A counterclockwise turn and the young leader moved his right foot right, the elder follower's left foot left. They'd completed the first transition without a hitch, but there were still the other four steps to go. For all its relative simplicity, theirs was a dance that was slow and stately and grand and altogether spellbinding for newly-initiated Ienzo. Nervous but scarcely faltering, Ienzo closed his left foot to his right, and Evelyn brought her right foot left. There was the helical turn—always the turn—with each transitionary step, and the young prince, with unexpected finesse, modulated from there to taking a step back with his right foot, and the princess adjoined forward with her left. From there, they turned under the music's sway and he moved left with his left foot and she reciprocated right with her right foot.
The last step, Ienzo anticipated with equal parts anxiety and excitement. We're almost there.
With one final circular rotation of their bodies, Ienzo closed his right foot to his left and Evelyn brought her left foot to her right, the song ended, and then they were done.
They stood in each other's arms, eye to eye and breathless, not from exhaustion, but from the excitement of this first step into a far greater world.
At length, Evelyn broke the wordless wheezing and asked with a large smile, "Would you like to learn the rest?"
It took a second to reply, but Ienzo's face lit up and he answered breathlessly, "Yes please."
And so the lessons continued. Within that single night under the late October moon, Ienzo learned the more advanced levels of the waltz. They covered natural turns and reverse turns, the backward passing change and rises and falls—the tempo of the ocarina would rise and fall and the speed of the dancers' steps would swing with it. There were times when the siblings would miss a step or lose their balance—they cracked-up in laughter when they nearly fell into the pond—but the thrill of the dance kept their blood rushing and their bodies weaving to the point where time and technique were irrelevant—
—until exhaustion finally overwhelmed them and they fell into each other's arms in a desperate hug to maintain balance, panting, disheveled, and covered in sweat as well as the gooseflesh from the chill of deepest night. The breathless embrace rendered them to fall into the other at their natural heights, Ienzo's head just at Evelyn's neck-level and Evelyn's jaw resting atop Ienzo's hair. It took them some mirthful gasps to realize even the music had stopped. But how long ago had it stopped? It was only then that they wondered what sorts of mastery the aeromancer held over the airflow of his own lungs that he was able to keep up with them for so long.
How long were we dancing?
Their answer came when they noticed the night was no longer the dark blue of late evening dusk or even the pitch-blackness of deepest night, but the empyrean darkness was now tinted with the faintest violet of earliest dawn. They saw this and laughed, laughed as their spent and jovial forms rumbled against one another until they lost their holds and fell over on the cobblestone at each other's sides, always laughing, always merry.
Ienzo noticed something. The last time they lay at each other's sides like this—sprawled and aching and exhausted and gasping for air—they had been wrestling on his bed on the night of the meteor almost two years ago.
Evelyn noticed something else. Ienzo was opening up. He retained the spirit of a recluse in love with the pursuit of scientific mastery, but now he was having fun. When was the last time he had ever laughed, even before the meteor? If there was ever a moment of purest bliss in Evelyn's life since Calamity devastated their world, it was here and now: listening to her little brother's joyful laughter and seeing him smile brighter than he ever had before. He'll make a fine husband for a very lucky lady one day.
The sound of slow applause captured their attention. There was Dilan, sitting casually on the ground and leaning against a statue's base for support. The smile on his face said everything. They smiled right back and knew this was a night they would remember for the rest of their lives.